A Little Help

I've been sick the past few days...and so, here's another list.

1. Decorating Cakes. My friend Janet taught me how to decorate a cake using fondant. I'm not cut out for the bakery, but hanging out with her and doing something creative was definitely worth the time. She's a great teacher and a wonderful mother, and one of the best people I know. I'm honored to be her friend.

2. The West Wing. Welcome back, Josh Lyman and Toby Ziegler. I've been watching episodes of The West Wing in preparation for my trip to DC. Sure, the government and ideals are romanticized, but I don't care. It makes me believe in a best of people in a better world, even if we can't create that here. We've all lost our scripts, apparently.

3. Evelyn Joy and Asher. These kids make my day. Sure my name is one of the easiest ones to pronounce for babies, but I love that that they love me for me. They don't know that I play piano, live in the Coffee Shop, answer e-mails for a living, watch LOST, battle insomnia, have family issues, have relationship issues, have an obsession with decorating cakes, want to be a writer, want to teach music, want to have a family, or that I am fascinated with doing puzzles, super-sensitive, frustrated with life and supremely afraid to fail.

All they know is that my name belongs to my face...and it's enough. It's amazing how children can show you the love of God.

4. Late night conversations. Lately, I've had some wonderful conversations with some of the most beautiful people I know. Some of those conversations happened around a campfire. But I do know that I can't make it through this season without them. Most of the time, in my darkest of brooding hours, I believe I have no support. They remind me that I do. I have awesome friends.

I've wanted to give up so many times. But there are enough people that remind me that I can't give up trying to become who I am supposed to be.

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
--Paul, Galatians 6:9

Growing Pains

I've been sitting in The Coffee Shop for the past hour, looking at a blinking cursor.

I can't seem to create anything at the moment, but I feel like I should.

But all I can offer is a conversation that has been resonating in my head for the past two weeks. This is a conversation I had with one of the amazing children at my church. I have a hard time that I have known these children when they were toddlers. Now, they're growing like weeds, and will probably surpass my height by the time they reach the age 10.

As a running joke, I ask the children if they could stop growing so that I might have a chance to grow up.

And so, the following conversation ensues:

Kid: No! I want to be taller.
Me: So do I! Just wait until I get taller, then you can grow some more.
Kid: It's not my fault that I'm getting taller.
Me: Whose fault is it?
Kid: Nobody's! God wants me to be taller just like he wants you to be short.
Me: Is that how it works?
Kid: Yup. Why do you want to be something different than what God wants you to be?

I didn't have an answer for that. It's amazing what a child can bring to light. Jokes about my height aside, I do struggle with who I am right now and how I keep wishing it was different. It never occurs to me that it might actually be who God wants me to be right now. And my refusal to be content with this reality is where I experience the most painful kinds of strain.

I want to be so much more, but I wonder if this is all that I will ever be. And if it is, would it be enough?

Proof

Every once in awhile, I read plays for fun.

I enjoy reading plays. They're comparable to a short story; minimal words in a specific time frame to express deep ideas, big themes, and intense character development. I love the plays that have small cast and usually one set. Usually you can read a play once over in one sitting and then read it many times through to get the little details you didn't pick up the first time. And you probably couldn't tell from the way that I write, but I enjoy minimalist plays over Shakespeare. I love Pinter, Stoppard and Mamet.

If you ever get a chance, read a play.

The one that I picked up during my "vacation" was by a playwright that I had not heard before: David Auburn. He had won a Pulitzer for his play, "Proof" (which by the way, is a movie...based on this play). The first time I read through it, I was intrigued by the use of flashback (oh, LOST) and how I identified with the main character Catherine.

The second time I read through the play in its entirety, I was nearly in tears. I guess there is something about watching a person struggle to prove their potential and worth in the face of adversity. I root for those characters, and hope that they can find a way to prove that they are more than what others believe they will become.

Permission

Sometimes, you just question things.

Lately, I've been wondering why I do the things that I do; pondering on what is truly important to me; figuring out what I allow to get in the way of those things.

I had dinner with my mom last night. Having been burned many times by my mother's inability to connect with me on an emotional level, I usually don't like to confide in her. But last night, I told her a little of what I've been hoping for. Basically, I told her what I wanted to be when I grow up.

She looked at me, with this odd look on her face...

...I think it was approval.

I forget sometimes how much my mother actually knows about me.

She said that it made sense, this little dream of mine. And she asked me questions that she had never asked of me before. It sounded like support. And although I am not looking for either approval or support from my mother (or anyone else) it is nice to finally have it.

I told her that it was weird, to admit these things to her. It is a rare moment when my mother is just my mom and I am just her daughter. Usually, it's an odd mix or reversal of those roles. We just had this odd understanding that I would end up doing whatever I wanted, and she'd just allow me to do what I needed to do because I would always return to fulfill my family obligations. But this time, it was different. This time, I asked permission to live my own life.

And after 20 years, she finally looked at me and told me that I could.

Reading is Good For You

During my time off work (and everything else) I like to read.

Yesterday, I finished Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. And now I'm ruined. My mind is completely ruined with all these new thoughts that I'm testing and finding out if it is true. And I love it. I love reading books that make me think and wonder and ponder and consider and test and enjoy and feel. I even like the books that frustrate me. I also love the books that I end up throwing across the room.

Sidenote: Attempt to read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It's not about Zen (although it's in there) and motorcycle maintenance (although it's in there, too). Technically, it's a book about philosophy. It will frustrate you. But if you can read it; read it for the narrator's journey. It is one of the rare books that once I finished it, I immediately wanted to re-read it to find out what I had missed.

Ok. Back to my story.

And so, this is what is currently messing with my mind:

I found out how much of my efforts were about earning something I already have...Notice how many places in the accounts of Jesus' life he gets furstrated with his disciples. Because they are incapable? No, because of how capable they are. He sees what they could be and could do and when they fall short it provokes him to no end. It isn't their failure that's the problem, it's their greatness. They don't realize what they are capable of...God has an incredibly high view of people. God believes that people are capable of amazing things...the rabbi thinks we can be like him...The issue then isn't my beating myself up over all the things I am not doing or the things I am doing poorly; the issue is my learning who this person is who God keeps insisting I already am.
--Rob Bell, "Velvet Elvis."

This messes with me; this concept that I am already the more than what I have become. God already knows who he created me to be, even if I don't see it or believe it. He sees it. I only see flaws, but God sees so much more than that. To him, through the blood of Christ, he only sees beauty.

All beautiful you are, my Darling, there is no flaw in you.
--The Lover, Song of Songs 4:7

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!
--Paul, 2 Corinthians 5:17

How does this new life happen? How do I stop looking at the flaws and live that abundant life that he knows I can live? How do I live with such grace?

Sometimes my heart is overwhelmed by this grace that I can't comprehend nor contain it. And all that I have to express my gratitude could only be squeezed out in tears of joy and silent awe.

Books are you friends. Reading is good for you.
--Mr. Trampe

Thoughts on Thinking

Who knows where thoughts come from--they just appear.
--Lucas, "Empire Records"

This week, I'm supposed to take some time and think.

Yes, I think a lot about a lot of things. And it's not always at different times. At any given moment, I'm thinking about many things at the same time.

But quite honestly, most of my thinking is sporadic at best and unfocused. I think about something, mull over how difficult it seems, and then move on to the next thing that pops into my head. My mind is constantly on, but I don't do a whole lot with the thoughts that appear. I've got too much to do to spend the time to think something through.

I react more than I respond.

Like I said, this week, I'm supposed to take some time to think...and not worry. To meditate and not troubleshoot. To listen and not react. To focus and not be distracted.

This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.