Overload.

I'm having one of those days.

The ones where I think way too much.

Where there are so many things going on

in so many facets of life that it gets all

discombobulated.

I've been writing every morning.

Every morning.

Result?

So much clarity

about so many things,

about so much of my own history.

So what do I do with it all?

That's where I am today.

Know Thyself

So advised Aristotle. It's good advice, I think.

There was a time when I didn't know how to be in a romantic relationship, because it was practically my only true relationship. Sometimes I think it's really too bad I'm only realizing that almost three years later.

One of my very best friends in the world is going to have a baby. I am so, so excited for her. And surprisingly, I'm not the least bit jealous. You see, for most of college, I thought I would be married and at least thinking about having kids by now. But I'm not even close to that, and I'm almost surprised to realize that I'm happy right here.

I am learning more and more every day about who I am. I am not lonely. I am not outcast. I am not lost or deeply hurting. For a very long time I believed I was all of those things. Granted, I still feel that way at times, but I don't believe that's who I am anymore and I think recently, it's a result of two things:

1. My friends-- real, true, call me at 3AM, make me laugh and cry in the same minute, talk shit with me when I need to talk shit, forgive me when I need forgiving, love me when I need to sit there and feel loved, laugh at my irreverence, ask me "how are you" with meaning in their tones-- they're those kind of friends, and they're spread all over this country. They are the kind of people who help introduce you to yourself, and that is a beautiful gift.

&

2. The weekend I just spent on a little ranch in Texas. I went to a retreat that was basically a training weekend. Training for reading the Bible in context and applying it to real life, instead of hypothetical life. They didn't promise me my best life NOW. They didn't tell me I would know my purpose after all was said and done. But they did give me practical advice & application and biblical guidance. They gave me a bed in a lodge and they gave me their glorious Texas-Southern accents and they gave me sunrises over the river and diamondback snakes in the grass. (Okay, upon further study, it wasn't actually a diamondback, but a bull snake is not a good story.) I'm embracing my passions a little more and I'm wanting to work more towards the things I love that don't necessarily pay my bills. Yet. I'm learning more about the Bible as a narrative, as a whole story that points to one thing, one person really. It's like it's a new book, and I'm excited.

For God So Loved Silk Ties

I'm still really struggling with this whole writing-what-I-really-want-to-write-on-my-blog thing. That is to say, sometimes, I just want to post really shallow stuff or things that I find hilarious that have little to do with anything at all. But when I write somewhat serious, but definitely weirdly-phrased posts, like that last one, LOTS more people show up on this little corner of the internet. And by "LOTS" I mean about 10 more than usual.

Anyway, here's my point: my Grandma Jean died last Saturday at age 81 and today was her funeral. I'm exhausted from these few days so right now, I have to tell you that one of the pastors who did the funeral service today, wore this very tie:

For you heathens out there, that's John 3:16. You could say that man wore the Gospel on his sleeve, so everyone could see it and be saved! Yippee! Or you could sit in the second row of your Grandma's funeral and stiffle a giggle.

Now before you go saying I'm going to hell (Though seriously? If I were gonna go to hell based on what comes out of my mouth, I'm loooong screwed), over the past few days my eyes have been opened to some pretty cool stuff-- or maybe it's more accurate to say that my heart has been opened to good ol' Southern Baptists. It's hard to hate on people who can love like that.

But I'll tell y'all about that later.

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.

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.

Honest.

Do you know that feeling of being surrounded by people and noise, of knowing there are several people you could call to spend time with right at this moment, but still you feel lonely? Is it just me who is stirred with this feeling more often than, I think, should feel normal?

There was a guy I dated for a very long time and he used to really get worried about me when I would get like this, but I didn't get why, because I thought my feelings were normal. But now I worry about myself too-- not in the "what will happen to me?" way, but in the "I hate that I feel like this but I don't know how to stop it" way. So I ride it out and eventually it goes away for long enough that I forget it, again.

My boyfriend tells me that I spend too much time in the hypothetical. He's right. But when I feel this way, this stress, this house that is so very large but closes in around me, this twitch in my eye that won't go away, these tears that won't roll down my face-- the hypothetical is just easier.

I care too much about my weight right now. I care too much about what my stomach looks like in a bathing suit. I care too much about what particular people think of me-- so much that I doubt I will hit publish on this post because it looks like I'm crying out for help when really it's just cathartic for me to write words. I wrote this post and I feel relief now. I used to write this blog in secret and I always wrote really honest things and somehow I kind of stopped when I knew who was reading it, but here is this post and its truth, and damn it if it isn't the core of me right now.

Mawwiage

My best friend Lindsey is getting married. I will be the Maid of Honor.

We have been dreaming about this day out loud for about 19 years. Or maybe just 12 because we used to hate each other. But I digress.

I would just like to say out loud, to the blog world, that planning a wedding is not really as much fun and games as you think it will be when you're 15. Because when you're 15, making plans for this weekend on Thursday is totally planning ahead. But a decade later, making plans in June for September is late. Also, in fantasy wedding land, the bride isn't a full-time grad student and the MOH (I have succumbed to silly wedding jargon) doesn't have a full-time job.

So this morning I sent out an email to all the bridesmaids with a glorious little spreadsheet with all the pertinent contact info along with some engagement dinner/couple shower & bachelorette party plans I had already discussed with the bride-to-be. (Sidenote: I really like to make lists.) I will be hosting the dinner in the town where we grew up at my parents' house and I proposed a date that felt far off enough for me to not freak out with the planning.

The date I'd like to do this is September 12th, which is a Saturday. How does that look for everyone? I'm sure it's going to be impossible to find a date that works for every single one of us, but we'll do our best! I'm so excited that we all get to do this together! Please feel free to give me your input on the plans!

Do! you! sense! my! excitement!?

The chain of emails that has ensued is out. of. control. I'll leave out the in between parts, but I'll give you some pieces of my latest response and you might get an idea of how this whole thing has been going:

Take some deep breaths for me and then stop going overboard with the ????????!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!!??! :) ... And I can actually handle those RSVPs if you want, that way you can study, so there will be less of this (?!?!?!freakin' the hell out?!?!?) and more of this (....calm....). ... Collective deep breaths now. ... Nobody freak out about the Bachelorette dates. Freaking out makes things no fun & we want FUNNNNN!!! Don't worry your pretty little head, dearest, just pass grad school.

I say all of these snappy little quips with all the love in my heart,

Hope

Seriously. Deep breaths.

I really am excited about this. I really can't wait to go to the restaurant on Saturday morning and check out the catering menu for the dinner I'm throwing. I've made a notebook with tabs and calendars and labels and to-do lists and guest lists and pretty sample pictures. I've joined theknot.com so I can access all of their great wedding-planning resources. I've saved all the invitations for anything and everything wedding related for the past several months so I can have real-life samples. I've pulled out all the wedding books and magazines that I bought during high school and college (that's no small collection, friends). I really, really love looking at my best friend in a gorgeous white gown and I even love arguing with her fiance about how the groomsmen can NOT wear sweaters with ties (yes, you read that right, sweaters with ties) instead of suit jackets for the ceremony.

So don't mistake this post for a complaint. This is me doing what I do best in our circle of friends-- saying out loud the stuff everyone else is thinking, and trying to make it funny while my best friend loses her mind because she's planning a wedding in the middle of grad school.

See how cute she is?! How could you not want to plan the most glorious wedding of all time for that face?


And lest you think I'm a bad friend, here's part of her response to the above email: LOVE! Thank you for making my life easier...I have finals next week, so stress is setting in! Ok...breathe...got it. Love you!

See? We wuv each other. It's wuv, true wuv!

Life in Color

During the past few weeks my life has been full.

I went to Colorado to see my favorite person to see, and I felt settled in my spirit in a way that had felt foreign until his arms embraced me.

We saw the Rockies at Coors Field and O.A.R. at Red Rocks.

Which is, if you ask me, the very best place to see a concert.

See how pretty?!

We dressed up and went out.

And when we went out, we ate meat.

Rattlesnake, yak, ostrich, buffalo, elk and quail to be exact.

When I came home, there was the marriage of two of the finest people I know:

Aren't they beautiful?

Many of us came together to celebrate with them.

When I am with these people, my days are filled with color.

Fantasy

I was talking with a friend today about work. We, um... how shall I say this...? We think there's a bit more to life than just making money. She was telling me about her fantasy of living and working at the beach-- a place that never fails to soothe her soul. She had only elaborated a little bit before I said, "Are you kidding me? I fantasize about various life situations more often than not." She laughed but...

My Fantasy Lives:

1. Live someplace new and write my first book

2. Marry someone who becomes the President and become a Jackie O-esqe style icon

3. Live at the beach and own a restaurant

4. Own/run a vineyard

5. Learn to play golf and suddenly find myself on the LPGA tour (I do actually own golf clubs, but have yet to put them to use)

6. Become a host on The Today Show

7. Become an editor at a well-respected publishing house (which would pay more than editing this, which I do sometimes)

8. Flip & decorate old houses

9. Travel the world and write about it all along the way

10. Marry my best friend, do all of the above, have babies and grow contentedly old

11. Have this blog redesigned monthly. (This could happen this month if I win this contest!)










12. And really anything other than sitting at a desk all day (various scenarios tend to play out based on daily situations)

The question becomes: what's stopping me?

Everybody Lies

I've become a fan of the Fox show House. At first I didn't really get the appeal of a doctor with no bedside manner to speak of, making snarky remarks to patients and coworkers. Then again, I am fan of snarkiness, which would explain how I was easily hooked. In case you're not a fan, the show revolves around Dr. Gregory House, a cynical, sarcastic, brilliant man. Each episode is centered around House and his team figuring out off-the-wall illnesses in patients with often bizarre symptoms. House's inability to be honest with himself, but insistent brutal honesty with his friends, is a continual theme.

I can't stop considering the implications of a recent episode. A husband/father suddenly becomes incapable of keeping his thoughts to himself. Everything running through his mind is spoken aloud-- from sexual fantasies to what he really thinks about his wife's job. When asked questions, he can't stop himself from speaking the whole truth. The problem is, his thought life reveals him to be a completely different person from the loving and upright character he has projected most of his life. The man practically tells his young daughter she is stupid. He tells his wife, a non-profit fundraiser, that he thinks people who are incapable of doing great things try to make up for it by supporting the great ideas of other people. He makes wide, sweeping judgements of everything his wife does, breaking her heart.

QUESTIONS I don't want to ask myself:

1. Do my actions and words reflect my thoughts or do they cover up my thoughts? Well, that depends on the situation. Unfortunately.

I am often outspoken about authenticity. I really hate it when people are inauthentic. And yet...

2. How often do I let people see who I really am?

3. How often do my thoughts go unspoken because they're filled with bitterness and hurtful words?

Sure, I'll spout off my true opinions about the design of marketing materials at work and if we're friends, I'll tell you when I believe you're making a bad decision in your relationship and I'll let you know if I think your actions are based on something deeper that you're unwilling to confront. And I expect you to do the same for me, if we're friends. (Don't get any bright ideas, Random Acquaintance!)

What I Won't Say Out Loud:
I won't say that your new haircut looks like a drug-addict cut it with dull scissors. I won't tell you that when you try to be cute and wear baby doll dresses, you actually do look like a five year old, save your gargantuan boobs spilling over in everyone's faces. (Seriously, if you have big boobs, you NEED this bra, and only this bra. You're welcome.) I won't say that I know you're judging my relationship, but I'm not so keen on yours either. I won't say all the petty cut downs that run through my head when I hear what you said when I wasn't around, and I won't say there's a reason I'm more successful than you. But damn it if I don't think every last one of those.

To be honest, I'm not really sure what that says about me. Because, get real, we all think mean things. Does the fact that I don't say those thoughts mean I have tact? Yes, on some levels. On other levels-- you know, the deeper ones that are kind of painful to confront-- it means my thought life isn't what I want it to be. I don't want to be the person who smiles at you and says "Oh you look fabulous!" and is actually thinking Oh dear God, that panty line. Can we say thong anyone? That's just getting far too Southern for me.

In the end of the House episode, the man is "cured" of his inability to keep things to himself. His wife, whose whole person was slashed by her husband the previous day, shows up to take him home. "I was promoted today," she tells him. "That's great!" He smiles and she escorts him to the car, going on as though nothing ever happened, while everyone knows it's not what he really thinks. Because you see, it's easier to lie to ourselves too, to tell ourselves that the hurtful truths our loved ones say to us aren't really them. It's easier, isn't it, to believe their lies? It's easier to believe our own lies within our own hearts.

I AM SO TACTFUL!

No, I'm not.

What I think and what I do are, too often, very different.

Hebrews tell us that "Jesus doesn't change...He's always totally himself." (Hebrews 13.8, msg)

I want to always be totally myself, you see. Because everybody does lie. But I don't want to.