Is it November Yet?

I don't know what it is, but this election year isn't quite getting under my political skin. I've been ignoring the polls, I've refrained from reading the daily editorials, I've completely tuned out.

I'm going to chalk it to the fact that this election "year" will be hitting the two year mark come November. Sixteen months of muddling through the primaries and we still have the conventions ahead of us.

Is it November yet?

Sigh.

The recent news blog I read showed me two things. One, the government, as a social construction is losing role in authority. Two, the number of people who no longer believe in the effectiveness of the US government is drastically outnumbering those who still believe it still works.

And don't get me started on those people from either groups who will actually vote.

Like so many others, I am not looking forward to the next three months of mudslinging and petty campaigning. I'll tune out like most of America. So I propose this to all the campaign managers who actually read this blog: take a note from marketing. People only retain information two weeks old. After that, they stop paying attention. My biggest concern is that I hope that people actually tune in come November.

Decisions are made by those who show up.

This ain't no time to be puddle jumpin'

Here's a funny story that I never thought would ever happen to me.

Last week, I had the stomach flu. I was home from work for three days straight, and endured two very long days at work because I became too sick of sleeping and watching CSI all day. Because I'm single and I live alone, no one was there to entertain me or take care of me, except for my best friend, Natalie, who did a grocery run for me because I couldn't stand up for five minutes without wanting to throw up.

Thanks, Natalie, for making me a little less pathetic. :-)

But that's not the story.

Today we had an all-staff meeting for my department. We are normally housed in Building 2, but the chapel room where we had our meeting was in Building 1. Basically, to get from point A to point B, we cross a parking lot.

On the way back after the meeting, my very tall friend tells me we should run because it was going to pour rain soon. It had been dreary all morning, and I didn't expect it to rain more than the typical smattering of renegade rain drops. However, the rain was starting to come fast from the dark, full clouds above us. So, in my heels, with my small feet and short legs, I try to keep up with my friend as she skips through the parking lot.

And then...my pants literally fall off.

Not completely, mind you, but enough where my waistline had dropped to the bottom of, well, my bottom.

I'm certain I mooned a squirrel out there.

Utterly horrified, I pull up the waist of my pants and skipped through the parking lot while trying not to drop the papers I was carrying.

Did I mention I was in heels?

I get back to our floor, winded from my brisk return to Building 2. Thankfully, other than my friend, no one saw my little Marky-Mark routine. My friend and I joked around about my personal issues and how I need to invest in a $5 belt. I tell her I don't wear belts because I never felt a need for them. She raises an eyebrow, probably because she saw a self-deprecating comment starting to develop in me, and I drop (no pun intended) the subject.

It was then that I tried to calculate when was the last time I ate, and I realized that due to my stomach flu, I hadn't had anything more than crackers and water for nearly a week. And because it had to do with me, I tend not to notice these kind of things. :-)

Ok. Lesson learned. Before puddle jumping...

1. Wear better shoes.
2. Wear a belt.
3. Rule 2 is a definite must when you hadn't eaten in a week due to the stomach flu.

Chasing Rainclouds

Apparently, it didn't rain.
But it didn't ruin my mood.
I had fun and I am finally at peace with myself.

Come Rain or Come Shine

So, here's the deal.

They say that it never rains on July 27th. I don't know if that's true, but it hasn't rained on that day in my memory...or more accurately, since I started keeping track. And for 10 years, it hasn't rained. For some reason that only makes sense to me, I keep wishing it would rain on this day. God, and certainly not the weather, has anything to prove to me by raining on the It-Never-Rains day, but I made myself a little bet:

If it rained, I would move on because I would know for sure that everything is going to be all right.

Tomorrow will be the 11th year of me keeping track of this insane experiment. And I've come to this conclusion. I have been, for too long now, making my life about one single moment that just happens to be on this It-Never-Rains day. As always, since it takes me forever to get some place, I finally am sick of it. My life isn't the sum a single moment. Sure, a lot of things have changed as a result of it, but my life is about something much bigger and much better than that. That is what I choose to live for come tomorrow.

And the day after that.

And hopefully, more days after that. :-)

I'm gonna love you like nobody's loved you. Come rain or come shine.

Odds, Ends, and Why I Think July Hates Me

First of all, I don't think July hates me. But a lot of changes happen in July. Most of them have been hard, but all of them are for the better--even though I don't know it at the time.

So, in the tradition of my July Mantra, I won't talk about it. But here's news I am willing to share.

1. I didn't kill my tomato plant. I don't have a green thumb. No, I take that back. I kill my plants because I forget they're there. So, one random day, I looked out on my deck and saw that my tomato plant was dying. For some reason, I freaked out and brought it inside to do everything I could to bring it back to life. I was going to be in and out for two weeks, but when I came home last Sunday night, my dead plant gave way into this thriving one. One of the branches had broken away before I left, and when I came back, two young ones had taken its place. It was beautiful.

Hope I don't kill it later. :-)

2. It took me four years to get here, but starting in August, I have Saturdays off. Wahoo! That means no more using vacation time to attend some event on a Saturday. No more wondering if my request to take a Saturday off is going to be granted or not. No more excuses in my pocket to get out of an event on Saturday. As it so happens, this is probably the last Tuesday where I stalk this coffee shop and catch up on my e-mails and such for three hours. I'm sad, but glad to finally have permission to have somewhat of a life.

3. X-Files movie is coming out this Friday. It will probably suck, but I don't care. I'm watching it anyway. :-)

Wednesday Musings

Due to circumstances I don't know how to control, I am spending the next three nights at my grandparents house.

Wednesday night was fine. I like being pampered. However, I can't seem to shake the fear that something insulting is going to happen. It hasn't happened in a while, and maybe that's why I'm all nervous. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandparents, but I fear their opinion of me.

Sigh.

On other news, I played piano for chapel service at work on Wednesday. It was a huge blessing to do so. Most popular comment?

"Wow, Abby. I didn't know you play piano."

Sigh. I really should learn how to tell people things.

Be a blessing, everyone!

Confession

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been 10 years and 9 months since my last confession.

When I was in second grade, I went through the sacrement of reconciliation. The concepts of atonement, redemption, penance and contrition were taught to us who are raised Catholic at a tender young age. But all I got out of it was a confused understanding of sin, shame and sorrow.

Those lessons have carried onto my life today, although I am no longer a practicing Catholic.

Based on past experience, I guess I have developed this odd concept of confession. I had always believed that confession was a good thing. It is supposed to help free you. It is supposed to help you move on. But if confession is only going to bring judgment, finger pointing and more shame, then I will plead the fifth every single time.

With like all things that I'm learning these past few weeks, I realized I am wrong.

When I refuse to confess and choose to keep things hidden or secret, I am missing out on something very important in my relationship with God. I pretend that I can do it on my own or express my belief that God can't do anything about my sin, shame or sorrow. And in doing so, what God did for us is nothing and I am striving to redeem myself.

Confession isn't magic. Confession isn't supposed to make me feel better nor is it an invitation to make me feel worse. Confession is more than a ritual; more than seeking validation or atonement. Confession is more than unloading what we feel most guilty for in search of release.

At the heart of it, confession is an act of worship; it forces us to reveal our hearts; not to expose our depravity but rather, our complete need and reliance on God.

I think I missed that lesson when I was in second grade. But then again, my biggest sin was lying about cleaning my room. :-)

Cinderella Moment

As promised...here's the happy-er blog.

I'm at the stairwell at work dragging my still sleepy body to the third floor. And because I have been entirely clutzy and more accident-prone as of late, my shoe falls off on my way up. One of my co-workers who was walking up the stairs with me continues on up. And with a smile on his face, he says as he passes me by:

"You dropped your shoe there."

Sigh. You know what they say about chivalry.

I feel like I need to do a public service announcement for every young girl who watched Cinderella and let them know that sometimes you have to put your shoe on yourself. :-)

Currently listening : Polaroids: A Greatest Hits Collection By Shawn Colvin

Rejecting Acceptance

First, I absolutely love my job. Second, I'm sorry for yet another venture into my vulnerability. My next blog will be happy...er. I almost can promise that. :-)

I am constantly amazed at how blessed I am to be working at World Vision. The relationships I have formed there have challenged and encouraged me in more ways than I had ever imagined. I am truly blessed to work there.

Today offered more proof of God's faithfulness in plucking me from a job I hated (and hated me...or loved me, depending on what stories you know...but I don't want to talk about it right now) and brought me to a place of healing. I was talking to one of my friends there who had just led a devotion at work. (We have devotions from noon to 12:25...so if you call us during that time, you won't get us. Hee!) And I told him I was very encouraged by what he had shared. I confessed that I was struggling with issues with faith. And this is what he said to me:

"Its good to have more questions than answers. If you have more questions, it means you're learning. Believing you have all the answers only stops the growth. You can keep wondering, keep questioning, but rest in the fact that you don't have to figure everything out. The mysteries of God are what theyr'e supposed to be: mysteries. So stand in awe. He's a mysterious God."

I love my job.

But here's a little insider tip about my friend. He actually attends the church that turned its back on me. He knows my family. And he knows...well, you know. (And if you don't, you can ask me. Just not during the month of July). It's not that really important to bring up except for the fact that he reminds me a lot of...well, you know. Its weird at times, to be in a place of healing and be reminded of when you were had been rejected.

Honestly? I don't think the church betrayed me as much as I believe they rejected me.

The biggest mystery of God is that he doesn't think we're unworthy or beyond loving. His sacrifice redeemed us--an ungrateful, ungracious, unloveable people. His love overcomes all of what makes us ugly. Having been rejected for being ugly before, I am just waiting for God to reject me. And yet...he hasn't.

Maybe I'll take the advice my friend-who-is-not-Tony gave me and stop trying to figure out when God will reject me, and rest in the fact that he won't. And perhaps in my rejection of his unfailing acceptance is probably why I'm not fully experiencing His joy.

Just another thought in my overcrowded brain.

Faith Struggle

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the evidence of things unseen...without faith it is impossible to please God for anyone who comes to him must believe he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.
--Writer of Hebrews, Chapter 11, Verses 1...6

Faith is one of those things I can't wrap my mind around. So, allow me to ruminate a bit. Please forgive me for the vanity and indulgence that brings about this entry.

How do you know if you have faith? It's kind of like humilty. Once you think you're humble, suddenly you're not. The moment I absolutely believe...doubt suddenly creeps in. In thinking about this concept of faith, I have, of course, complied a list:

One: Faith changes everything. Today, I read through Jesus's miracles. Faith, it seems, is what "impressed" Jesus most. How many times does the variation of the phrase "your faith has saved you, now go" appear at the end of a miracle?

Two: Faith, like most things, has more to do with God than with me. There are many things that I believe God will do. Time after time after time, God has shown his faithfulness. Regardless of the outcome of my life--good/bad, vibrant/stale, happy/sad-- His faithfulness endures. His hope never disappoints, his love never fails and his faith is always true.

Three: Faith and fear are related. Another thing about faith that totally boggles me is this idea that those who are afraid have no faith. In the story where Jesus calms the storm, he rebukes the disciples, correlating their large fears with their little faith. Does that mean that fear reflects faith? If we are unafraid, does that mean we have no doubt? And what about that infamous list in Hebrews 11, the "Hall of Faith"? Did they doubt? If they did, were they afraid? Or did they always have faith that could move mountains?

Four: Faith is more than reason. Around this time, I get completely frustrated and give up. Reason tells me that there are things I have to work out for myself; that not everything works out in the end. Reason tells me that I don't deserve anything, and any glimmer of happiness is just a gift I should not take for granted. Reason tells me that being active is better than wishing for things to be better. Reason demands proof. All of that is good, and but the balance comes in when faith reminds me that no matter what reason dictates, it does not change the fact that I can have faith that God never ceases. At times, I wish for the days when reason didn't rule my life and I could just believe...know without a doubt...have faith.

Where did this sudden obsession with faith come from? I guess my short answer is this: I have come to this realization that I don't believe God in certain places in my life. And it bothers me. I hate that fears and reason separate me from seeing how God is glorified in my life in places where I only see darkness. And my prayer and hope is that God will reveal his purpose through this present struggle.

Even if its small, I have faith that he will. He always does.

What happens you don't sleep...

Sometimes there is nothing to obey; the only thing to do is maintain a vital connection with Jesus Christ, to see that nothing interferes with that. --Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Sure, its taken me a long time to get to this point. I know that some people had expected that I should be over it now, but I realize that they're not me. It takes me awhile to understand things in real life experience.

It's easier for me to be a scholar.

At any rate, this past week was sort of a trial. I don't know if it had anything to do with the apprehension that comes whenever July rolls around, but I was bad-moody. I was frustrated with the stale quality of life I was living, and I had no idea how to change it. No, strike that, I didn't want to do the things that would change it.

I hate to walk away, despite the fact that I do it so frequently.

In the end, when I finally "moved on" and took in the fresh air, it never occured to me that obedience was far simpler than quiet rebellion. Suddenly, the things I thought mattered to me didn't matter any longer. I look back on those ideas and people I wanted so desperately wanted to keep and finally see that the very act of keeping them close was what was holding me back.

I get that its only going to get harder from this point on. As soon as I declare victory, I get that Satan is crouching nearby ready to devour any ground that I thought I had covered. But that's ok. I get that trouble and annoyances will come. Nothing I do will stop that. I get that now.

Trials never end, of course. Unhappiness and misfortune are bound to occur as long as people live, but there is feeling now, that was not here before, and is not just on the surface of things, but penetrates all the way through: We've won it. Its going to get better now. You can sort of tell these things. --Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

So here's hoping that moving on is all what its cracked up to be. But wherever it leads, its got to be better than where I've been.

On a side note, the nightmares of stopped (for the moment, at least), and I'm finally sleeping again. Yeah!!

A brief interruption brought to you by...the Presidential Election

I know that I have been quiet lately regarding the Presidential election. I have no excuse other than I have found nothing of note to comment on that hasn't already been commented on. As it is the Fourth of July, I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.

Straight Talk and Hope/Change We Can Believe In aside, what this election cycle is showing me is that everyone, regardless of which camp they come from, is essentially saying the same thing. Both sides love America. Both sides want to support us in the issues that concern us most. Both want change, and both believe that it is through the government that it can be achieved. How they achieve those goals is where they mostly differ.

What I have left to say about this Presidential election is this: Diversity is what makes this country unique. Tolerance of that diversity is a freedom we enjoy and should protect. It is admirable if someone can rally a diverse country full of apathetic, yet somewhat opinionated people. It will be historic if someone can unite them.

E pluribus unum. Out of many, one.

Happy Independence Day.

Conversation with Caleb

My church has the greatest kids.

One of the families in my church has two sets of twins. The youngest one, is a five-year old named Caleb. Like his twin brother, Andrew, he likes to run around in the movie theater that our church meets every week, rebelliously running up and down the ramp in the middle of the lobby. I don't know if it was the "heat wave" or the fact that he had been running around for a long time, but Caleb ended up sitting next to me, waiting for his family to be finish socializing.

Now, I don't know many twenty-five year old boys who know how to carry a conversation, let alone a five year old. As with most conversations, it started out with silly questions from me:

Me: Now which one are you? George?
Caleb: I'm not George! I'm Caleb!!
Me: Then [pointing at his brother] he must be George.
Caleb: No. That's Andrew.
Me: Oh. Well, where's George?

He laughed at me and then proceded to tell me the make up of his family. Starting from oldest to youngest. And then he told me about swimming.

At one point, someone came up to talk to me. I turned to answer that person's question, while Caleb waited patiently. Usually, at this time, the kid will run around again, chasing after the elusive donut near the coffee table. However, he waited. When the adult left, I turned to Caleb who picked up right where he left off. He talked more about swimming and then how his dad used to do really cool jumps on his bike and how he wants to be like his father.

Cutest thing ever.

But of course, I turned it back to the silliness.

Caleb: Ms. Kristin had a baby.
Me: I know. Maybe that baby's name is George!
Caleb: No! She had a girl.
Me: Do you know her name?

Caleb shrugs.

Me: What's a good girl's name?

Caleb thinks for a long while. A smile then creeps on his face as he announces proudly:

Caleb: Nicole.
Me: That's a great girl's name.
Caleb: It's the best. Did you know my mom's name is Nicole?
Me: That's right! Now I remember.
Caleb: And mommy is the best Nicole.

It was probably the most precious encounter I have had in a long while. It makes my heart sing to hear children talk about the parents they love. I had the longest week before that Sunday. I was tired and my heart was aching. But it amazes me how that can all change with a child who has so much love for everyone around them.

Thank you Caleb, for being a blessing. I will never call you George again.

Thank you God...you're the best God.