For Now and Next December

Here's some of those lyrics that really just say what you can't about the reality of human stuff we all go through. After I heard this song I though, "Whoa, that's true." I like how the song hits home how sometimes there are just no answers but that change always comes, even though we know we're all messed up. Lastly, we have to be loved by Somebody because of that fact before we can love other people and not suck the life out of them...


"Savior"

Love's not a savior when your messed up,
when you're messed up forever.
You feel like you're drowning in red hearts
wrapped in red ribbons and blue skies.

Then somebody pulls the plug
and it all goes down the drain
but don't we all change?

There's no good answers to your questions
I had a feeling and now it's gone
It seems like your waiting on some verdict,
but it's a mis-trial
please go home.

Rain won't dull your hurt,
but change is today,
like a barrell of a field
filling up with rain-
not a photograph,
you're only afraid
and don't we all change?
don't we all change?

love's not a savior when your messed up,
when you're messed up.

~The Everybodyfields


Though I'm not nearly as brave and upfront as this band, or Steve Brown, I've been hooked on reading his letters over these past long and wonderful Christmas vacation days. One left to go, I settled down with his letter for Christmas and all the ways we look at Jesus, especially when we forget He's there. This song reminded me to look for Him, too.

Enjoy.

Getting Young in a New Year

I got an ipod for Christmas- one of my first grown up toys in a while. The funny thing is, as I was importing all my music and trying to figure out the stupid complicated thing, I turned it into a job instead of fun. I even felt a little guilt in spending a half a day organizing the darn thing, at one point even considering if having an ipod was a waste of money that could be used to feed poor people. I was crazed with forgetting how to have fun-on Christmas vacation. Such a tragedy...until I came across this quote from Steve Brown after realizing I needed I needed to get out of the house or get distracted by something worthy of attention.

"I want to be really important. I don't like that in me; but, there, I've said it and feel a great deal of relief. Paul said that he was crucified with Christ and that he (Paul) lived because Christ lived in him. God is doing stuff in our lives and the more we pretend that we are something different than what we are, we truncate the image of Christ—the very image that is naturally and supernaturally being formed in us."

He nailed it. So maybe wanting to be important by being good at technology, or maybe good at using money from sold technology to help others is just a cover up. Maybe it's just thinking of what's expected of important people. If you can't relate to either of those, just check out the site and see for yourself and just quit reading this. But, I think we've all felt some way or another that feeling of wanting to rip up your grown up clothes and put on your play clothes...but not knowing how to do it without breaking rules. For instance, we are approaching once again those days like we're in now with a "new year" and all its goals (which I tend to shy away from) maturing adults should all have. But somewhere in between all the important things we think we "should" do and be like is us sitting crosslegged like a kid saying we just want to do what we want to do. The fact is, we hardly admit that last part to ourselves and carry around neatly packaged load of guilt for feeling that way instead of preparing our business face for the next work year.

So what will we not admit? What we really want? What do we hate? What do we think God would strike us down for saying, thinking, doing?

I'm still trying to figure that out, because I usually like being a kid, and I miss child-like faith. I think that faith occurs somewhere in the middle of admitting all those things to God and being ok with it.

Gifts: When and When Not to Give Them

I’m not really a “gift” kind of person. Maybe I’ve got some creativity sometimes, but I fall into the category of people who don’t necessarily put it into action. But today was a different sort of day…

While trying to paint a picture for my sister-in-law’s coming baby girl, I realized I just needed to see people. Sometimes when we try to “get something accomplished” being social is much more beneficial and healthy, I think. So, after a quaint market dinner with some girls, I go with one of them to do some Christmas shopping. Little did I know, I would be participating in some secretive, last minute shopping myself.

It all happened with the words some of us dread hearing: “So I have a little something I need to get for you that’s in my car.”
Crap, I think to myself, wondering if the pang of surprise is obvious all over my face. And I hate the fact that this girl is one of my closest friends that just so happens to be leaving before I have a chance to actually go purchase my intended gift for her…of course. So I do the next best thing to waiting to give it to her when she gets back—I run to Belk to “go to the bathroom." I really did have to,but then those creative juices that weren’t there for me during my painting lesson start flowing.

My plan unfolds gracefully as I happen to run into the jewelry department on my hustle to the ladies room. I make about two cirlce around the department until I'm dizzy and, still, unrelieved. The next thing I know, I’ve snagged a pair of funky gold earrings and find myself saying to the clerk, “Can I go next? I’m kind of hiding from someone.” I feel slightly like a criminal, and I'm not proud of it. She takes me to a register in the corner as I peer through the glass door for my friend’s dark hair. None in sight, so I ask for a box and head back to the parking lot wondering how I’m going to make my presentation.

After receiving my gift, the ever-so-lovely wrapped copy of a Cooking Light hard bound, I mutter, “So I’m not much of a wrapper.” Surely she won’t see the Belk writing on top of the box that I hand to her in the darkness of the car. I wonder briefly if I will every be a good mother or wife.

But her respone interupts my thoughts...there it goes, “I see what happened!” she says, shocked but somewhat laughing. “I wondered why going to the bathroom took so long.” I’m playing things off at this point as I eventually am honest with this dear friend and remind her I was going to give her present to her…just didn’t know she was leaving so early.

After making a few piercingly honest comments about my behavior,I am relieved as she opens it, releasing me from my shame by saying, “You are the funniest person I know…no on else would do anything like this, and that’s why I just love you.” She said it like I couldn’t have for myself. At that moment I realized, after assuring her I was, in fact, aware that we are “those friends that give Christmas gifts to,” that I will do many stupid things, but friends that can laugh and not curse at those things are the greatest. I guess I risked looking like a fool, but actually even though I proved to be one, it made a pretty hilarious memory.

I now see Christmas gifts in a whole new light: as I have received mercy, I now feel indebted to give it to others during this special season of giving… even though I can’t even tell if I am being sarcastic in saying this.

Blessings to all as you strive to be thoughtful, generous, and honest all at the same time this season.

Football is Over, Christmas is Here

So it seems households around the South will have fewer mood swings now that SEC football is over. I think it had to end before the Christmas season entered so that no fatherly Scrooges could be present on Saturday game days if "their" team lost. After all, "they" played so hard and have been through so much, so "they" deserve to win, right? Maybe I'm wrong, but I haven't seen any of "them" in pads...
The irony is I have watched more football this year than I have ever before, but I chose to be emotionally uninvolved and actually still enjoyed it.

Christmas is soon approaching and so are the songs on the radio, so I also choose to put one favorite Christmas song and one Christmas picture on my blog for the sheer enjoyment of having a little bit of a good thing before 96.5 drowns out everything else. I just see it that sometimes good things, like football and Christmas, are blown into images they weren't meant to fit, so this is one small effort to savor the simple.

On the left are two Christmas keepsakes I consider pure and simple: Celine Dion singing her heart out, and three 7th graders performing a mini-play (old Scrooge,his Christmas ghost, and young Scrooge). I chose Celine for the pure beauty of the song, and the picture for the ability of kids to bring to life an oftentimes boring play that made my day. It's amazing how a Beatles wig, a hockey mask, and a plastic baseball helmet, not to mention the midget pose, can produce a masterpiece performance.

Not posted here but dear to my heart is Amy Grant's "O Come All Ye Faithful," another pure joy in the midst over done things.

Awkward at It's Finest

One of many reasons life is wonderful is for the moments that keep it interesting: meeting new people in new places and having a conversation over pizza and a beverage is such an instance. These are times that happen unexpectedly with a little effort and a lot of fun. But there are also those moments that are interesting but not quite as comfortable: those moments you would like to see the expression on your face to remember how baffled you were. Tonight was one of those.

I believe that people who buy things at Barnes and Noble are normal; the most outrageous are those who sit and read there. I have proof.

So it's the night before Thanksgiving. I'm minding my own business reading Newsweek at 10 pm to get educated on Iraq and memory loss when I see a dark, disheveled figure approach me. He gives it the old,
"It's too loud over there. Do you mind?" Before I have a chance to say "heck yes," the 20 something character plops his books down and throws out the always trusty line,"You look like...a scientist." Yeah... "You know, like the girl on Jurassic Park?"

I haven't really blinked at this point, nor have I removed my hand from my clenched cheek. I have never been so good at being rude, or so I thought. I soon learn within seven gruelling minutes that this fellow is a security guard, working on a graphic novel, feels very "screwed up," although wants to be a psychology teacher, and has once healed a man via hypnosis. To the last comment (since I've remembered after committing to listen for the pure sake of entertainment)I reply,

"Well, that's nice. Maybe you should start charging people for that." I'm pretty sure that's the longest sentence I manage.

To say the least, I'm a bit uncomfortable, throwing equally uncomfortable glares back at him, which he never takes as the intended, "I hate this. Leave me alone." I basically act like I have no life in response to the "personal life" question and tell him of my plan to leave early in the morning for Thanksgiving. I soon learn there is such a thing as a Jewish Thanksgiving. And, since I enjoy learning,I mangage to say, "Well, I didn't know that." I ask under my breath, "I wonder who they give thanks to?" to open up the converstation to Christianity, but soon decide after a few invasive glances from him against it. Instead, I wish him luck on his novel as he stands guard by the hospital.

Instead of leaving, he asks the "so what are your passions" question, to which I reply, "I teach kids because we get to talk about life in the classroom." He doesn't seem to connect school to that and just has a puzzled look on his face. The one-way conversation lasts a few more minutes and I let him ramble, recording the said comments over and over in my mind for later reference.

I soon melt with relief when he gets the call for his toasted bagel. Lastly, since I'm apparently nice despite what I think, I leave the table while I can, catching his eye as I wave him off with my copy of The New Yorker. Afterwards are the moments when you tell the cashier you don't need a bag because it takes too long and you want out of that store. But, you also know you've just experienced a pretty hilarious situation and can't wait to tell someone about it.

The irony of it all is that I just read an article on memory loss and how we purposely memorize things we'll need later. I found myself doing that same things while I conversed with this very strange stranger. I do find it/him/the situation humorous, but also disheartening in ways I won't go into that involve how messed up some people get. But those people do end up becoming brilliant writers-the crazy ones always do. I would be lying if I didn't say I'm the slightest bit jealous. I would be lying if I did not say I'm glad to be at home on my couch, too.

The Where You Are's

Are the past six meals you've eaten out,
Are the cheap Mexican dinners that left you feeling good,
Are watching the far from classy realtiy shows with your roomate,
Are the cups of coffee waiting for conversation,
Are the trips where you spend more money than you should
but waste more time than you'll have in the future.
Are the best times when you realize they exist within
the in betweens.
Are the moments when you stop writing misunderstood poetry
and letting yourself be made fun of as you do.

The In-Betweens

It's 24 when everyone else is 25.
It's seeing an unused raquet meant for spring but it's winter.
It's reading about a girl with leukemia wondering if you'll experience it.
It's listening to that song and wanting to dance,but sitting on a day bed in pajamas.
It's seeing Christmas lights before Thanksgiving.
It's the photos with unshared stories and no place in an album.
It's a wool sweater when it's 65.
It's the dreamed up conversation when you get a look instead.
It's paying rent and always thinking it's temporary.
It's a sponge when the floor needs a Swiffer.
It's reorganizing when the computer waits for words.
It's writing this poem when you fight confessional journaling.
It's what we do when we're too busy, too careful, too unsure.
It's in-between: the young ones cry over it, the wise ones laugh
or just live.
It's not going to breakfast with a couple of 13-yr-olds and planning to just listen.
That's just being where you are and sometimes
That's enough.