My High Is

In several group setting in which I’ve been a part, and in many I’ve never experienced, a good ice-breaker for everyone is to name their personal “high and low.” It’s a pretty good indicator of what’s going on with individual group members. With teens, it’s usually along the lines of “My high is that it’s almost Friday, and my low is that I have three tests today.”

I am the sponsor (adult advisor) of two Bible studies at school. While I think that making that sort of statement might make me seem a bit more evangelical than I actually am, and I could clarify to say that I don’t do all that much planning for it as it’s led by student leaders, it’s still a pretty coll thing we do at our school, and I am thrilled to know all these girls at school because of it. Both of my groups rely on naming Highs and Lows as a way to check in with each other. It’s funny to me because I can’t always be really honest with them because a lot of my issues are, you know, kind of adult-like compared to theirs. I don’t want to worry them with my job woes or when I am feeling down about myself, or tell them I had to fork out a bunch of dough to get my dog’s teeth cleaned – I still have to be relate-able, after all. So I usually dumb down my responses or apply them to school stuff they can relate to.

So if you’re reading my blog at all, you know I’ve been in a funk the last while. It’s so funny to me (I know, I just paired the phrase in a funk with funny to me, but I digress) that the smallest things can lighten my mood and get my mind off of my continual preoccupation – which, thank goodness, because being depressed is no joy ride! I love these kids I spend two of my weekday mornings with at school as well as the kids I spend Sunday nights with at church because I can fall back on memories of being their age.

What my high is at the moment is tied to things that take my mind back further than their age. I am contemplating Christmastime and its music. And its lights. And its gets togethers.

I feel so grateful. It’s been a really rough autumn, and to look back and know that so many wonderful things have happened amidst some really crappy things tells me that I really don’t have it so badly after all. That I do have a right head on my shoulders, that I am a Child of God, that people love me and I love them, that community members really do look out for one another. I may not have  full time job, but I do have folks complimenting me on a job well done, when I least expect it. I may be driving Josef’s old car because an older woman couldn’t look where she was going, leading to my car being totaled. I may not be a mom yet, even though I’m knocking on 30 in 2 months time, but I do have a very full life with many things to look forward to. I may not realize the full plan of this life, and may not always see the point (thus: depression), but all this love in my heart tells me to go on anyway and trust in God.

So that’s my high: no matter how abnormal I feel, there are others who have felt what I feel. No matter how awful things seem, I can turn to a large number of people for support, and they can rely on me to help them. I am filled with love because of the gratitude I am experiencing at the moment. My life as a prayer is saying Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

Actually

ACTUALLY

I have probably posted this story before, but I’m too lazy to find out. In my first job out of college, at our new staff orientation, the HR trainer had us go around the room and tell everyone else from whence we hailed. Loads of the newbies were from Massachusetts (where I was working), and others, like yours truly, were from other places. One young woman seemingly felt the need to set everyone straight should they have considered that she may have come from Massachusetts (or some other assumed location), as she said, “Actually, I’m from Delaware.”

Whoo, well, you set me straight! I thought you were from Rhode Island at least.

To this day, I still don’t know why she started that phrase with “actually.” Now, instead of trying to figure it out, I just laugh about it and share the memory of it with you. Don’t you feel actually enlightened?

What makes the story better is my learning that she had no choice in using that phrase, because she is from Delaware. Not to begrudge Delaware, of course (or actually), but that phrase really didn’t make sense. Fortunately for Delaware Girl, I also made such crazy out-of-my-homeland comments all year long.

One day, a new hire asked me if I was going to lunch soon. I said, “Yeah, I’m fixin’ to.” She shot me a look that told me I had said something crazy-like, and repeated the phrase back to me.

“What on earth does that mean?” she asked me, visibly shaking with laughter.

I explained myself in plainer English that I was GETTING READY to go to lunch, apologized that I had confused her, and she said she thought it was so cute and Southern of me.

Later, I was at the grocery store with my roommate and her brother. We entered the store, and I announced I would go get the buggy for us.

“The what?” they asked.

“Buggy,” I replied, indicating the SHOPPING CART.

They nearly fell over laughing at me.

I don’t blame them, really. To this day, even as I live in Atlanta, that’s still a cart to me.

But I still say “fixin’ to.” It’s just too hard to NOT say.

INTO JESUS

So, Saturday night, we were ACTUALLY (hee hee) preparing for an Octave performance. This nice man hired us to come sing at his church, and wanted us to sing some of our “off-color” (i.e., maybe not-so-church-appropriate) songs, which we changed our words for in an effort to both sing the songs he requested and to keep our consciences clear from offending anyone (we say “why the hell” in one song and “still pissed off” in another, which aren’t the worst things you can say, but we scrubbed them up anyway).

We were warming up prior to our performance, and one member, N, who sings the solo on our song, “Baby, I’m Yours,” jokingly said “I should sing, ‘Jesus, I’m Yours.’” We all started laughing about it, and while we were laughing, A, another Octave member, asked if she should step up to the mic on her solo on another song.

I said, “Yes, you should.”

Our director, B, thought I was replying N’s suggestion of singing, “Jesus, I’m Yours,” and she didn’t think that was the best idea. She said, “I know you’re all into Jesus and all,” and even though I explained that my “yes, you should” was directed elsewhere, it still was said again by another member, C, that “actually, she (meaning me) is [into Jesus].”

Wow. It’s not like something I tried to hide, and certainly not something I’d deny, but it was still an interesting experience to hear that they identify me in this way, when that wasn’t my intention to say anything about my personal beliefs in the context of this performance. I’m happy that others tend to identify me as Christian, “into Jesus,” etc. I’m also into tolerance, peace, welcoming others, being accepting of differences, celebrating intersections between everyone’s beliefs and values. I hope folks know these things about me, too.

IDLE TIME (HA!)

Cheerleading is over for the season. Just as it seemed like we were finally getting started, it’s all over! This year was full of challenges, mostly in the natural disasters arena. Our campus partially flooded back in September when Atlanta received a heavy concentration of rain across several days. The result was the loss of the use of our field for this season.

Fortunately, there are ways around these situations, and through the graciousness of other schools who could host our football games while they played away games, we were able to have our season. Which in turn meant I got to drive the bus to all these games! Wow, is it a scary thought of driving a bunch of children around (even if they are old enough or almost old enough to drive). It all went well, and the girls did a great job this season, but man, was it a tiring experience this year. It didn’t help that I’ve had the blues and had bronchitis for a few weeks. I didn’t think about it in these terms until today, but because we traveled, our games turned into a larger time commitment. That’s a long time to be “on” as a coach.

What’s funny is no matter what obstacles JV cheer has to overcome, we always hit our stride right at the end of the season. Our stunts are almost 100% solid, it’s easy to learn new dances and incorporate the next progression in stunting, and it’s just time to stop. I can’t help but wonder what we could accomplish if the season lasted longer. I’m proud of them all the same, of course!

As I wrote above, I’m now going to have my afternoons free. I’m motivated more than ever to study German (it’s been a while!), research grad school and study for the GRE, as well as turn my focus back to Octave as I have wanted to do but haven’t had time to do because of coaching.

I also want to get some yard work done that I haven’t had time to do (poor pansies have been frowning at me from their flats – they need room for their roots, please!).

I’m anticipating the births of several friends’ babies, too. Seems like there have been a lot of baby showers lately and the actual birth days have been arriving one by one. So exciting!

It’s been a busy, bustling fall!

We’ve got to get away

“We’ve got to run away,” says Dorothy to her dog Toto upon seeing him after he escaped Miss Gulch’s bicycle basket in The Wizard of Oz.

As you may recall from reading other posts on my blog, I have a quite active dream life. My dreams frequently invade my mind, blurring the process of waking up in the morning. I am often convinced that what is happening in my dreams is real.

Yesterday (or a few days ago, I can’t remember), I dreamed that I had gone to Seattle to go see my friend from high school who lives there. I don’t remember actually seeing her, but I did realize that I needed to get to work in a few hours (in my non-dream life), but I knew there was no way I could get from Seattle to Atlanta in two hours. Panic commenced, and I couldn’t find a way back to Atlanta. I couldn’t even remember how I had gotten to Seattle in the first place.  Eventually I woke up enough to realize I was actually in Atlanta.

This morning, I was between dead asleep and wakefullness yet again. This time, I dreamed that I needed to go someplace south of downtown later in the day. I don’t know why I needed to go there or what it was I’d be doing there, but it was something I couldn’t get out of doing, and I dreaded having to go.

Through my drowsy state, I also registered the pouring rain this morning, and interpretted that into my dream. It made me dread even more having to drive south. As with the Seattle dream, I eventually woke up, again relieved that it was just a dream.

I have always had a difficult time waking up in the morning, particularly since freshman year of college. Likewise, I have a difficult time falling asleep. I used to read books to fall asleep before I got married, but my husband is very sensitive to light, so I’ve taken to listening to audio books at night. I always am able to drift right to sleep with someone else’s story rather than staying awake with my own life story.

So, as poor Dorothy experiences a need to escape, I think I try to escape my own life sometimes, even unintentionally, through my sleep.  Then, I experience something worse in my dreams that I need to escape by waking up. Both my real-life problems and my dreamed problems keep me in limbo from true rest. From true resolution.

I started going back to therapy. First time in 4 years. I feel that I am not my usual sunny self and all the small things are becoming major threats to my ability to function. Since I realize that the small things are bothering me, I am upset with myself that little things are bugging me this much. Of course, I realize and count my many, many blessings, and I still am happy to be involved in so many things that typically bring me joy, but something’s just not right.

I keep daydreaming about running away. Not a crazy running away scenario, but just something more akin to going on vacation. As much as I enjoy the things I’m doing, I feel there are times when I’m overscheduled and I’d rather just sit in a vegetative state in front of the tv.

I have started to look forward to the random weeknight when my husband and I can actually eat dinner together, because due to his work travel and my many “extracurriculars,” it’s becoming more and more difficult to see each other outside of the weekend. When he’s actually home, I am often darting off to rehearsal or a game or a Bible study, and then I see him when it’s time to say goodnight and fire up up the audio book so I can fall asleep. I feel badly that our poor dog doesn’t get enough loving because I’m often just popping in to make sure his basic needs are met, too, on my way to something else I’ve signed up for.

I guess I’m ready to be a homebody for a while. Escape to my house, with my husband and our sidekick dog. That sounds nice about now.

Morning has broken

For a while, I have been my usual occupied self. Busy, but not too busy.

But then, every activity in which I am involved seemed to go into warp speed and happen all at once. As much as I may have mentally and physically prepared for said activities to ramp in intensity — I can read a calendar as well as the next person –  I somehow wasn’t ready when it happened.

As I result, I am left wondering what is wrong with me. Usually I adore being busy and having a lot to do. As you know if you’ve read my blog, I try to not have a lot of idle time to myself, lest I settle into some state of laziness.

Somehow, though, I now crave that state of laziness. All the things I am doing are things I love to do. It’s just that lately, while I’ve doing all these things, I feel like I am just doing them all wrong. Like I’m walking in a dream and my aims are not my outcomes. It’s all my responsibility to take care of these many things, and I feel like I am being spread thin. Like I am slowly breaking down.

I had one of those moments last night where I woke up in the middle of the night:  wide awake, heart pounding, as if a bucket of cold water had just met my face. As you may have heard it said, anytime you wake up in the quiet of the night like that, it means God is trying to tell you something.

My thought, upon waking, was about how one day I — as I know myself — will not exist.

This thought plagues me when I am not at my best. It’s always in the middle of the night, seemingly out of nowhere, and haunting as all-get-out. So I turned to the one source of comfort in the dark of night: prayer.

Tears streamed down my face as I lay face down and poured out all the self-doubts, horrifying thoughts of my inabilities, and guilt over things I’ve left undone in the wake of trying to maintain calm and show others I’ve got it together.

I am so scared about letting others down that it impacts my ability to truly help them. It’s the same wisdom as found in the quentisential notion about how therapists cannot provide therapy unless they themselves have had their heads examined.

I currently vacillate between wanting to do all the things expected of me — again, all the things I signed up to do — and also wanting to strike out in a new direction. The push-and-pull of trying to comprehend God’s plan for me often leaves me exhausted.  Should I be as content with the way things are, as I have often expressed to others in an effort to convince myself that I am content? How do I exist in this constant state of gratitude for what I have, paired with the desire to see what else is out there for me?

A friend recently expressed the desire to go away to a monastery for some self-healing. There is a nearby monastery where people can go to spend time by themselves for a week or weekend, during which a person can spend time in silent reflection. Not to equate myself with Jesus, but even he took some time away to spend by Himself (like the 40 days after His baptism).

I think what I have realized from being busy is that while all these things I do, that I enjoy doing, are all wonderful and involve people I love dearly, I also need to take time to do nothing. Rather than continually live in a state of  stress from many sources, I need to take even 5 minutes out of my day to come back to my center and remember that my whole life has prepared me to handle things that come my way, and that God’s always there to help me.

Finally crying last night and praying about it all really helps me to have a fresh perspective this morning. Having everything finally calm down will really help, too!

Writing it out helps. Welcome back to my blog. I have missed writing. Here, then, is a toast to having good thoughts to share with you.

Loving Summertime!

Even though I am jonesing to go back to Europe, thinking about grad school, and still working over the summer (work for which I am grateful!), I gotta say how much I love summer.

I love the long amounts of daylight, not being cold, a lighter menu, and fun activities.

We went to see the Braves play last Saturday. Even though it was a crappy game, it is always fun to go see them play and watch the people at the stadium. I love people watching, and there are thousands to watch at a MLB game.

Yesterday, we went tubing on the Hooch! It was a LOT of fun! We’d totally go again, I think. Thankfully, it was warm outside and the river was high thanks to all the rain we’ve had lately. And, the only part of me that burned was the tops of my feet – where the sunscreen must have washed off. It’s funny to me today that my abs are sore from supporting myself in the float. Even though the water was high, there were still plenty of large rocks to lift our bums away from; thus the sore abs. It was very peaceful out there, and the wildlife, which was mostly birds, was gorgeous!

I’ve gotten pretty tan – for me – this summer thanks to my summer gig: taking pictures of all the camps taking place at school. I get to walk around a ton and take pictures, which I then post on the web site for their parents to sign in and see. It’s been a lot of fun seeing a different aspect of this place – and an important one! Lots of faculty and staff are running these camps, too, so it’s cool to see them in a different capacity.

I love that I am walking so much in my job. I think I’ve been walking several miles each day, and some days more than that as the different camps take place all over the many acres of the campus. I think it’s helped me sleep better at night, and it gives me a lot of time to ponder life and organize my next steps with regard to my schedule.

Time to turn in. I bought a Bernhard Schlink novel, since I was so amazed by The Reader. This one is called Homecoming, and I am finding I like his writing style more and more. I am studying for the GRE as of today, so I need to learn from his brief style so I can ace the writing portion. Good night!

Look, you guys, I’m BLOGging!

Oh, sweet, beautiful blog. How I have missed you. And, readers, I am sorry I’ve been away.

I’ve been living the good life, I think. Josef and I went on a trip to Germany and Belgium at the end of April through the beginning of May. What a great experience! I think about our trip a lot and would drop everything to go back immediately. Munich was by far the favorite part of our trip. It’s just such a gorgeous city, and it has so many wonderful suburbs. We were appreciative of the train system and pedestrian/bike-friendly aspects of Europe that we saw.

While we were there, we got to see family and friends. We also made some new friends. It was such a dizzyingly wonderful experience.

As you know from reading my blog, I am a person who is constantly re-evaluting my life plan. When we were in Munich, we were treated to a visit with G., a friend from Hungary who lived and went to school with the Henschens during Josef’s junior year of high school. G’s been working on his doctoral thesis, and he’s almost done!

Which got me thinking. If I worked on a doctoral (or even masters) degree, what would I want to study? How could I use my studies to further explore Europe’s rich history? What could I do that is meaningful enough to warrant a topic worthy of a thesis?

I came up with one, but it’s still kind of in the works. Essentially, it has to do with artistic expression, Christianity, and Euro/American culture. I’ll keep you posted, but I have found a school here in Atlanta that might let me pursue this topic. Now I have to start studying for the GRE. I tried to study for it once before, but I didn’t really have a goal in mind other than just getting it over with in case I needed to send GRE scores in somewhere. Now I might possibly have a purpose for taking it!

I have some other goals, too. I want to learn how to read and speak German so that when we go back, we aren’t totally dependent on the gracious Germans who have all studied our language. Also, I want to get in better shape. I want to work on our garden. I want to work on training Hunter with positive reinforcement (clicker method). I want to work on some a cappella arrangements.

I read some good books that my mother-in-law loaned to me for the trip.

The Reader, by Bernhard Schlink. This book did a number on my brain. Why did I like this so much, when there were two very wrong things that this woman did? Why did I feel so compelled to feel compassionately toward her? I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t read it, but know that it is well-written. I liked how matter-of-fact Schlink’s writing is, and how he doesn’t write a single line without a purpose. Anything he omits is not essential to the story, whereas other novels might include more information for the sake of character development or background for the story. I think the brevity of his writing really put the actions under the microscope. It was a good read. I watched the movie when we got home and thought it, too, was well-made. I was a little disappointed as I always am with anything differing from the book, but it was pretty true to the feel of the novel.

The second book I read totally floored me. Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin, is an amazing tale of how Greg Mortenson’s life totally changed course after he got disoriented when descending from a failed attempt at climbing K-2, the second highest mountain the world. A local village chief took him in and nursed him back to health. When he recovered, he asked the village chief to show him the local school. There wasn’t one. Mortenson has now built schools all over Pakistan and Afghanistan because of the need he witnessed for schools in these remote villages. He is fighting the good fight – using education to counter-act the footholds that the Taliban have on this region. It was an amazing read and a call to serve in ways the world needs me to serve. What an amazing person Greg Mortenson is!

Well, it’s a gorgeous day today, so I’m going to head out and enjoy it. It’s good to be back blogging!

Haven’t really been under a rock

Really.

Well, maybe.

Sorry if you’ve checked my page the last while and have been disappointed yet again by the lack of blog entries. I apologize.

Work’s been busy and tiring, but good. Life and love are also good. Singing’s been good, too. Trip planning has been brilliant – it’s the beacon on the hill, the light at the end of the tunnel for me lately. Job hunting.

Job hunting has not been so good. I haven’t heard a peep from anyone who might be interested in hiring me as a teacher. Maybe it’s just not going to happen for me this year. Which is a bummer.

I’m also mostly unemployed from June – September, a situation that has put me into quite a funk, to be sure. I have some options for work from June through the beginning of July, which is wonderfully generous of the folks who have offered those opportunities. But then what? There’s this vast gulf of time and no pay check that is having its way with my level of happiness and productivity. I am continually berating myself for not pursuing a more decisive major. I’ve been told that if I want to get anywhere with this dream of becoming a teacher, I need to do coursework toward that goal rather than the way I’d hoped: that I’d get a teaching job and then have time (and assistance) with schooling as I go.

To say I’m sad is not enough. I’m totally uncertain about my future. I’m thinking that I may need to strike out in a completely new direction. As usual, my mind provides me too many possible directions, resulting in a decision of Not Making a Decision.

I’ve prayed and cried and felt tired about it. A lot.

Will you please pray for me about it all? That God will show me the next rope to try as I swing through the jungle of life? That I can see where I am headed or at least trust that I will be okay? I don’t feel okay right now.

Sorry for the sad post. Maybe I really have been under a rock. It doesn’t help that the weather has returned to winter this week – we even had snow this morning. Oh, to be warm, free, and full of hope again. I’m not there yet, but I hope I will be soon.

High School Chorus Reunion

It’s been a week.

I get to make my great escape tomorrow, though. I’m headed to my hometown to sing in my high school chorus again. Should be fun, eh? I’m psyched.

Our chorus director, Mrs. P., was an amazing chorus director. I first got to know her when I was in 4th grade and she was the music teacher at my elementary school. I, along with some other lucky ducks, got to be in her “special afterschool choir” which meant we got to sing a song at her high school Christmas choir’s concert (I still remember the song, as I had a short solo in it). We also got to walk across the street to the gas station that also served ice cream because it was the end of the year, it was hot outside, and she wanted to celebrate. Mrs. P. has always been big on celebrating.

I went three years without singing with her until freshman year. Oh, boy, it was finally time for the big time. Freshman year choir was just about a million high school girls who all would have auditioned for American Idol if it had existed then. Sophomore through senior year, however, I was part of the prestigious concert choir. We were the snobs of the high school choirs. Not really. We just really liked choir. A whole lot.

Under Mrs. P.’s direction, we auditioned for All State, picked out new choir dresses, learned a ton of music, etc. She was always fun and let us do fun stuff. She always took pictures of our outfits during spirit week, the week leading up to Homecoming. She also had the mindset of a true public school, industrious teacher: she got a bus license so she could drive us places herself and not have to take that money out of her budget. The woman could drive that thing through the narrow lanes of Winthrop University with grace like nothing I’ve seen since.

I think even in my high school mind, I knew she gave her heart for her work and I appreciated all she did. I remember feeling badly for her when students would disrespect her in class. She was always so graceful and it is an honor to have been her student.

This weekend, she is taking a break from retirement and will be leading lots of her old students in a reunion concert. It should be pretty interesting! I wonder how many of these former students have been singing since they graduated from high school.

I already had my ten year high school reunion, back in October, but it feels like another high school reunion. Even though I wasn’t the most outgoing person back then, some of the happiest moments in my teen years happened in Mrs. P.’s chorus room during songs we sang. Whether it was making silly faces across the room at my friends who were altos (I was a soprano) or learning music theory or hearing about Mrs. P.’s experiences at the show choir conference she’d attended over the summer or getting a coveted solo (I didn’t get many solos back then, either), it was just a special experience. We went to sing in Carnegie Hall when I was a sophomore (and, duh, we practiced, practiced, practiced). We also sang at Carowinds and Six Flags. I know the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah because of Mrs. P. We sang it at the end of the Christmas concert every year, and back then, the alumni would come up and sing it with us.

That room is where I first learned how to breathe properly and fill my lungs quickly by sipping air like through a straw. I learned how to sit properly while I sang, a habit I still carry as I sit at my desk at work – people have commented on my posture at work. I experienced the thrill of singing part of a beautiful chord.

I also learned that life wasn’t fair and that if I wanted something, I’d have to work at it. Wanting something wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I applied the things she taught us. I also figured out around this time that I could learn any words if they were set to a tune. I remember a great deal of the songs we sang — some of which we’re singing this weekend — because I would sing them over and over again at home. I loved singing scales and trying to make my voice sound like the voices of the girls who did get solos. I also got to know my own voice for what it is, and I do love my own unique sound now. I’m not vain about my voice though. I know it’s not the best voice but it’s mine. I could use lots of voice lessons, but I am confident where I used to cower and I really love pulling my vocal weight in a group.

I am really excited to get to sing these songs again this weekend. I think it will feel more like a real Homecoming than any high school reunion could be. I’m looking forward to Mrs. P. leading us through warm ups and rehearsal, and then following her lead during the concert on Saturday. I feel like it’s going to be like the end of Mr. Holland’s Opus for her, looking back into these faces that she knew when they were in their teenage states, but I am sure we’ll somehow look the same to her.

And we’ll make beautiful music, all together. I can’t wait.

Shake what your mama gave ya

Well, I’m not really writing about dancing. Or to tell you to shake anything.

But I do want to talk about what your mama gave ya.

I watched a tv show this morning as I ate my cereal. It’s a show called Secret Lives of Women on WE. The show explores different things that women do that others might not know about. The topic at hand was, however, something that would hard to, erm, hide: Plastic Surgery. Two of the three women were clearly addicted to having surgery, which was a little sad, honestly. One lady was on her 6th, I think, the other had had so many surgeries that the family sold their house to pay for the cost. Although they seemed pleased with the results, inevitably, there was something wrong with their bodies so back they ran to pour more money into their bodies.

I know, some women chose to have plastic surgery for a lot of very, very good reasons, including feeling better about themselves. But the examples this show gave were cases – especially the second one I mentioned – that clearly the person was going to be unhappy until her body reached perfection. What is perfection, though? She continually has uneven scarring from the incisions to put skin more tout, and if you saw her, you’d think she was perfect the way she is.

Sorry, let me interrupt myself with a quotation from Jimmy Buffett’s song, Fruitcakes:

“I treat my body like a temple. You treat YOURS like a TENT!”

To return to the story now, I wonder if the perpetual pursuit of perfection through plastic surgery, extreme dieting, what-have-you, is actually good for you. Perhaps these types are actually treating their bodies more like a tent, not the temporary vessel that it really is.

On one hand, I get it. People – women, in particular – want to be seen as attractive, approachable, etc.

On the other hand, the heavier hand, how much can you pour on yourself in this pursuit and still wind up happy? From my perspective, I am always upset with how folks spend their money – a practice I am working on myself, so this not a judgement thing (yet it is). If you’re going to spend more money than you have on your appearance, why can’t you be as equally willing to give that money away to others in need? I know, bleeding heart here, but seriously. If the best things in life are free: time with loved ones, a gorgeous sunset, a day when everything goes your way, having people around that love you, then why spend all that money on yourself?

I remember a story about a rich couple who were unhappy. They stared down into an alley one night and saw the local baker, let’s say, and his wife, the rich couple’s maid. They seemed really, really happy. The rich couple separately wondered, why are they so happy? They have nothing.

I think when we pursue really selfish things – blindly of others – we forget to see the big picture. That we’re all in this world together. That we can help each other out. I realize that as I age, my body and mind aren’t going to be what they were when I was in college or my early twenties. I have white hairs at my temples. Surprisingly, to myself, I am embracing these white hairs, because I feel like they are a sign of wisdom that I have earned. It feels unnatural for me to consider plastic surgery (and I couldn’t afford it anyway!) because I am sure that if I got one thing done, suddenly the rest of my body might not look so great.

A teacher stopped by our office today to help with some Admissions work. What started out as light chitchat grew into a really indepth discussion about evil. The teacher, J, was mentioning his childhood fascination with vampires, etc., and some stuff he was going through. He mentioned that pure evil never presents itself as something unattractive, and it exists in the tiny voice in our head that says, “You’re not good enough to be loved.” I was profoundly affected by this conversation, as I typically am with conversations with J.

A while back, when I was going through some therapy, my therapist had me recite some positive phrases to myself. Number one and two were:

1. I am a child of God.

2. I am loved and lovable.

I think accepting and reinforcing these truths to ourselves is very powerful. At least, it was for me. The common theme that has been presenting itself lately is really getting the golden rule or the greatest commandment: Treat others as you want to be treated or Love your neighbor as yourself.

It’s pretty much impossible to love your neighbor if you don’t love yourself.

Rambling like Char tonight!

I don’t have any cute little kid pictures, though.

Octave rehearsal has been canceled tonight, so now I have time to devote to the ol’ blog. A post every day this week so far – wow!

I have quite a bit on my mind, of course.

First, is my health. I’m not too happy with the way I have been treating myself lately. I’ve been a lump on a log, as mentioned in past blogs, and due to the sweet evil we know as Girl Scout cookies, well, let’s just say, I’ve let myself go a bit. I’m pretty disappointed in myself, of course. So, now I’m going back to the ways of healthy eatting and thinking. Starting now! This afternoon, as I am prone to do in the spring, which in and of itself gives me energy like spinach for Pop Eye, I went shopping for fruits. This time last year, I was eatting a lot of raw fruits and veggies in the form of smoothies. I wish I had more than one blender so that I could rotate between a clean one and the one in the dishwasher. But, it’s good to just have one so I can wash it every time I use it. So, yeah, here’s a toast to good health! And a return to feeling great about myself. I’m going to hula hoop tonight, too, because we all know it’s good for me.

Have you see the show on the Style network called Ruby? It’s about Ruby, a quite overweight woman who lives in Savannah, and she’s working with about 6 different people to help her conquer her bad habits that led to her mortal obesity. It’s a great show to watch because although I instantly felt critical of Ruby for being so overweight, now I feel hopeful for her and really, really want for her to succeed. I think she’d already lost a lot of weight before I ever saw an episode. Ruby is adorable, too, and she has a million friends because she’s sweet. I think it’s her southern accent, her acceptance of others, her willingness to speak her mind, and determination to take off all that weight that makes her so endearing.

Okay, on to another topic. Babies! I had a nice visit with my friend B today and her son. He is looking so much like his daddy, it’s amazing! Some of us from church are hosting a baby shower for our associate pastor, K, on Sunday. We’re really excited about it!

Next topic. Dust! It’s everywhere! I’ve been tackling the spring cleaning to-do list without the list so far as I keep having scary encounters with dust piles at every turn through our house. Yuck! I think maybe the extra sunlight due to springing forward in time one hour makes me see things differently. Dust that might not have been obvious at 5:00 last week, well, it’s sure there at 6:00 this week. I dunno, maybe that’s not a legitimate theory. All I know is there is dust and let’s not forget Hunter’s hair in plenty supply in our house. Too bad it’s useless, because we’d be rich!

Deep thought: In our young adult women’s Bible study, we’re working through some Faith and Film topics. Last night, we watched a portion of Les Misérables. We talked about forgiveness and whether or not bad people (as we see convicts as being) can truly reform. I think that everyone is good, as Anne Frank did, so it’s hard for me to lose hope for anyone. Others in the group were adament that some people are bad, no matter what. We talked about how we’ve all told white lies, to protect others, to avoid inconvenience, etc. I know that as a Christian I’m supposed to believe that everyone sins and can be forgiven, even myself. I just really like separating out the good and the evil, the essentially good person from their evil sins. I don’t like to let the two bleed into each other, but be starkly held apart, like ying and yang are reprensented. It’s a big topic to mentally wrestle with. I tend to think of goodness and love as light, and evil and hate as dark. I don’t like for them to blend, but of course they do. Even within myself. I just think we have to pour out our hope, love, and support for each other, and for ourselves. We also have to ask for help, like Ruby’s example. I think we have to love first and judge second – if at all. It’s too easy to fall into a pit of dispair because of our emotions or the way we view the world.

I’m reminded through this though pattern of Chuck Brodsky’s song, We Are Each Other’s Angels. I’ve only heard David Lamotte perform it, but it’s such an amazing song. Here are some of the words:

“We Are Each Other’s Angels by Chuck Brodsky

Sometimes you’ll stumble – sometimes you’ll just lie down
Sometimes you’ll get lonely – with all these people around
You might shiver when the wind blows – and you might get blown away
You might lose a little color – you might lose a little faith

We are each other’s angels – we meet when it is time
We keep each other going – and we show each other signs”

I’m grateful for all the angels who have touched my life in ways they know and could never know. I love thinking as myself as someone who could actually bless others, in big and small ways, as a way of giving thanks to God for all the wonderful people in my life who have blessed my path along the way. If I made a list, I wouldn’t be able to complete it as it would go on and on. And the people that have touched my life in these ways were also touched by others. It’s like a web of hope and love, or a really strong root system in which we are all entertwined. We can survive anything if we bear each other up.