Looking for Beer in God's Refrigerator

My favorite kind of people are authentic. They shoot straight. They don't pretend to be someone they are not. They don't hide what they really think. They are comfortable in their own skin. But it's more than just "being yourself."

My favorite kind of people live so fully from their true hearts, that they invite other people around them to do the same thing. Do you know someone like that? The kind of person who invites you over for dinner and says "Make yourself at home"-- except they really mean it. And so you start opening cabinets in the kitchen to find the glasses and on your third try, there they are. And this person is cooking or setting the table and you start fishing around in the fridge for a beer, and then once you find it, you're opening drawers to get the bottle opener. And all the while your friend is just chatting away, asking about your day or keeping the conversation up with others and you're just feeling completely natural there, rooting around in drawers of a kitchen you've never been in before. You're comfortable and you don't even realize it. It's that person. They've made you feel at home so well that you hadn't even noticed until you started reading this silly little story.

I've been thinking about a lot of spiritual things lately-- about who I am and who God has made me to be. I think about what it would be like if I really could understand how much God loves me and if I could live there, in that understanding.

My church is unique. We meet in a bar right now. Usually it smells like hops and about 3/4 of the way through the service, a bar employee with dreadlocks and no bra on walks through the room and goes into the private dining room we use as a nursery to grab some towels from the cupboard. It's also unique because the part I get the most out of has only a little bit to do with Sundays. Monday nights my Community Group comes together in a house where I once opened three cabinets to find the glasses without even thinking about it. We call them Community Groups because they're based on geographic location, not age or marital status or race or anything so silly. So in my CG, we have people from ages 23 to maybe "47" (you're welcome, Marc) and some of us are teachers and some of us work in restaurants and some of us are moms or bankers or pharmacists. But I'll tell you what, we all ask questions and we all struggle through spiritual things together. And it's really rather wonderful.

This Monday we were wondering how it is you go about abiding in God. I think it's safe to say we're still wondering, but we did conclude that it looks different for everyone. We were reading John 15 and when I went back to it last night in The Message I was struck by something new.

I've loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. (v.9)

What would it be like, I wonder, to open the cabinets and rummage through the drawers and look for a beer in the refrigerator of God's love? And by that I mean, who would you be, if in the core of your being you understood that you are radically, wholly, undeniably loved by an all-powerful, dangerous, infinite and good God? What would it be like to have a conversation knowing that the Creator of the Cosmos is fascinated by every word you say? To know that he values your questions, that he loves you for asking them?

What would it be like to not feel the need to prove yourself?

What would it be like to make yourself at home in the love of Christ?

Working Distractions

I'm at work right now and I'm so busy and have so many things on my Neverending To-Do List that I can't believe I'm letting myself write a blog post.

But I got distracted by Twitter and one tweet linked to a blog post, which led me to another, which had me reading a chapter out of Donald Miller's new book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, and I am suddenly remembering how much I love words and the way they play off one another, like smiles between friends around a bountiful dinner table with wine and candles and empty plates.

I love being reminded that I love to write. Because I have this other blog post saved that I've been working on for several days now and it feels too contrived because it is. I've tried too hard to write something meaningful rather than just writing because I love the dance of the letters.

If I had an antique typewriter, I would type these words on it, and there would be mistakes and misspellings and big blotches of crap, just like in real life. But the words would also be more real because of the typewriter, because of the lack of a "delete" button, because I wouldn't have a chance to fix them, but I would have space to apologize for messing up.

Sometimes that's just what I need-- space to mess up.

My best friend is one of those who is okay with mess ups. And I realized while I was driving yesterday that I've never felt the need to edit myself for him. Sometimes I hesitate in my words because I want to get them just right, but I don't leave parts out. Isn't that the best kind of honesty? The unedited, ink blotted, messy, real honesty? Not even when we first met and we kayaked around the lake, not even then did I think I had to change my answers to say what he wanted to hear me say. I can't think of any words to explain the gratitude that wells up inside me when I think about that.

VACATION? Yes, please.

I spent the past week at the beach and I accomplished several important things:

1. I made some serious decisions about my future. But I'm a jerk and will not write about them on this blog until they're for sure. Heh.

2. I read Twilight.

3. I watched the movie. ::Swwwooooooon :: Robert Pattinson, you make me feel better about my pale skin, you are such a YUMMY vampire.

4. Then I read New Moon.

5. Then I read Eclipse.

6. Tonight I'll start the 4th installment and I don't even know the name of it because I love these books so much I don't care at all what they're called I just keep readingandreadingandreadingand dear God, WRITE ANOTHER ONE, STEPHENIE MEYER! (Seriously, I spent 30 minutes today Googling pictures of the vampire cast. I didn't even do crap like that when I was 13. Which is, by the way, the age of my sister, who is the one to blame for wanting to read these books in the first place. And also my mom, who wanted to know if the vampires were evil or not and therefore if my sister should read the books at all, but didn't want to read the books herself, so she FORCED me to sit on the beach and read them in a 72 hour period. After I fell in looooove, she decided to read them too, and is obviously now addicted. But THEN she tried to steal said 4th book from me last night while I was busy SPRINTING to the bathroom, just after returning from the beach. But I stopped her with my lightning fast reflexes and 6th sense for catching Vampire Book Thieves. I'll bet you big bucks the book is NOT where I left it when I return home from work today. As though going to a bookstore would be more difficult than breaking in to snoop through my gargantuan book collection.)

7. This post is becoming less about the beach and more about absurdly long parenthetical statements.

8. I did The Shred once. Hey, better once than never right? (What's that you say? That's not the phrase? Yeah, right. Of course it is.)

9. I ran on the beach once. THAT is a feat. For me, running anywhere other than on an elliptical machine in a supremely air-conditioned gym with an iPod in my hand and ESPN on the flatscreen TV in front of me, is just not worthwhile. Running outside is like a waste of a workout. Half the reason I work out without my hot-ass boyfriend to look at without his shirt on is because of the endorphins. I feel so much happier after a good sweat. But when I run outside, my thoughts go like this: I HATE running. My back hurts. I need a better sports bra. I hate this. It's so hot...I hate this. I hate this. Can't...breathe...hate...hate...HAAAAATE!!!!! .::fall down dead::. So you see why running on the beach for about one-half of a mile is cause for much celebration in my world.

10. I ate like hell: full blown sweet tea (how I have missed you, Heaven's Nectar), biscuits & gravy, Calabash-style fried scallops, fried crab cakes, hush puppies, homemade key lime pie, fudgesicles (a seaside staple), homemade fudge, homemade margaritas, homemade BUTTER (no lie, this stuff is the shiiiiizzzzzz)... I could go on and on but just writing about this stuff is not only making my mouth water, but also making my belly pooch out of my Spanx and that just defeats of the whole purpose, don't you think?

11. I had a lot of time to reflect and figure things out and when I'm in the mood to be a little more serious, I'll write about those things. But for now, enjoy some more Edward Cullen. Yes, please indeed!

M.I.A.

Dear Internet,

This is the view from where I'm spending the week:

I took that picture with my cell phone; you can imagine how wonderful it is in reality.

So you see, I have very little use for you right now, dear internet. But don't worry, I'll be back on Monday, and I'll be addicted to you again.

The weather is here, wish you were beautiful,

P.S. Apparently I write blog posts in letter format now. Hmmm... It won't last.

Wedding March

Dear Recently Married Friends,

Just one question:

Why didn't we do this in all of your weddings?




It would make being a perpetually single girl at the never-ending stream of weddings ever so much more enjoyable.

Love,

Hope

p.s. muchas gracious, sdq.

8:30 to 5 o'clock

I have some lofty ambitions.

Tonight at 5 o'clock, I took my sexy red briefcase out from beneath my desk, un-docked my laptop from its port, and carefully placed the wonder of technology next to my neatly labeled "volunteer" binder inside the briefcase. "I will work from home!" I told myself.

But do you know what I found when I sat down at my dining room table, spreading my work out around me at 9:47 pm?

I found some new blogs to read, this beautiful new blouse that will look completely fabulous with or without a suit jacket (JACKPOT!), and my new favorite youtube video was there to watch yet again (I blame you, Joe Jones.)



No, I did not do any work post-5 o'clock.

Yes I said sexy briefcase.

I Can Be Funny!!!

Okay so here it is:

This blog can be kind of depressing. All these serious life questions and pseudo-deep, intellectual thoughts. I've been thinking about starting another blog for the sake of being snappy and sarcastic and cuss-y, because in real life, that's what I'm like most of the time, and damn it if it's not hilarious! (Or at least I think so.) But why start a new one that has a totally different personality? My real life personality is irreverent and sometimes without a filter, but it's also one that questions things like the meaning of life with a what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here-I-think-I-need-to-cry sort of attitude.

So I've decided that henceforth I'm going to be more intentional about allowing my blog posts to be a more realistic reflection of real life me.

Because some days I just want to be shallow and read trashy romance novels.