Caffeine…

IN HONOR OF the fact that I’ve had about four diet cokes in the past two hours (working on my Old Testament Survey course for my minister’s license — what a BEAST of a class)… and because I needed a mental break, visit my friend Strongbad to learn about the effects of caffeine. Also, for good measure, you should visit Li’l Brudder (I can make it on my own!).

Look what I found… my carpet!

This is my little world… a lot cleaner than usual. Photo serves as proof that it was at one point actually fairly tidy… it won’t stay this way for long! (Oh, and no one’s allowed to see my walk-in closet…) Carly & Amy, it’s as if you’ve had the royal tour…

the crack of ice cream

It seems I have a new enemy.

Seeing as how I can’t conceivably blame myself, I shall blame Ben & Jerry’s. How DO they sleep at night?

Last night, I discovered “Brownie Batter Ice Cream.” Absolute heaven, now available at your local Albertsons (on sale, in fact).

In fact, I discovered it all the way down to the bottom of it’s cute pint-size tub. Seemed innocent enough, right? Just a cute little guy… Not a huge container like the regular ice cream. It’s the size of a blizzard.

Turns out there’s not too many things better in ice cream than brownie batter. You’ve got to try it – but beware the addiction. It’s like the crack of ice cream.

Crack with (18 grams x 4 servings =) 72 grams of fat per carton. Atkins would turn over in his grave.

It’s kind of pointless when you look at the label after you’ve partaken… I’d rather live in blissful fatty ignorance. (72 grams… Goodness. I’d have to run for a year to burn that off. So I’ll probably just not run at all and call it good.)

Off to coffee with Abby… coffee with chocolate in it… sigh.

[consider yourself warned]

CURRENTLY PLAYING: Harry Connick, Jr. – Red light, Blue light. In honor of the concert that I’m missing. I love you Harry! Only you… and Hanson. Mmmmm bop…

So after my depresso post yesterday (my apologies), I was hoping something laughter inspiring (at least to me) and slightly on the ridiculous side would happen. And lo and behold (that is SO fun to say), Kevin provided the inspiration. Or, rather, his deodorant inspired me. (Kevo’s such a good sport, by the way… and a featured star on several blogs…)

So it turns out that when the fine folks at Old Spice say “New Scent”, what they mean is “this stuff burns your pits like fire” or “this stuff makes grown men cry.” Poor Kev. Endured the torture and agony of burny pits ALL DAY, til he could buy a new pit-friendly product (PFP). Running this morning… (not at noon… props to you)… burny pits. At the job interview (painful and sickening in and of itself)… burny and slightly itchy pits. During his shift at work… screaming ninja ouchy ouchy burny pits. Poor O’Rich.

I know I should be sympathetic, but the more random the ailment, the funnier the suffering becomes. “OH, my pancreas.” “He got kicked in the spleen.” etc. You know you should be like, “Aw, I’m sorry,” but even if you’re not laughing on the outside, you’re definitely laughing on the inside.

Kevin says that it’s virtually impossible to subtly scratch your itchy pits at work, especially as you’re checking people’s groceries. He found that it tends to freak people out, actually. I can’t imagine why. Maybe they quit complaining about self-check out so much. One can hope.

No worries, though, friends. Kevin is now at the movies with J&J enjoying the freedom of his PFP, his ordeal with IBPS (“Itchy Burny Pit Syndrome” for the lay person) a distant, albeit painful, memory. He is, however, considering starting a support group. Take a lesson from O’Rich. Avoid Old Spice Red Zone Aqua Reef like the plague that it is. And quit taking your non-itchy-pits for granted.

Pits, wow… And my writing has reached a new low…

OK I’m off to watch a movie… Laters.

JULIE & STEPH, I WANT TO GO CAMPING WITH YOU CRAZY CATS!

One of those days…

***DISCLAIMER*** I had a fairly rotten day and am attempting to make sense of it, so if you’re looking for a laugh, try tomorrow’s post. I should be fine by then.

“Do you ever feel you’ve become the worst version of yourself?” Quite the question, voiced by Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail… one of my favorite movies.

I feel that way pretty rarely, but there are certainly times where I look at the current version of myself and think, “That’s the best we can do?” I get frustrated, but find it hard to change, at least for any consistent length of time. Mediocrity, it seems, is a specialty of mine.

My day began with waking up in a panic at 8.45 a.m., when work started at nine. Let’s just say it all went downhill from there (and my schedule went increasingly haywire from there). I haven’t cried much recently, but I cried four times today. Lack of sleep=emotional mess. Lack of preparation=literal mess. It was a rough day, the hardest part about it being that it was a rough day completely of my own making. If I would just get organized… plan a bit better… build some healthy habits… I’d save a lot of energy that’s spent running around (wait for it…) like a chicken with its head cut off. More effort on the front end = less wasted time and less work needed on the tail end. It looks lovely on paper, but the truth is, I haven’t found a way to make it translate into every day life. And I stay the same, which is so frustrating.

Maybe the real question isn’t “Do you ever feel you’ve become the worst version of yourself…” It’s this question: “Are you ever afraid that this is the best self you’re ever going to be?”

I do what I don’t want to do, but I don’t do what I do want to do… Paul wrote this or something very like it… He understood. His “thorn in his flesh” drove him nuts, and he pleaded with God to remove it, but He didn’t. Who knows what his thorn was? I have no idea, but evidently it bothered him quite a bit.

My thorns are: procrastination; lack of confidence; disorganized-ness; at times, settling for what-I-can-get-by-with rather than excellence … and man, did I feel like they were on display in big huge bold red letters today. I was uncomfortable enough to actually want to change some things. I’m going to look at these in more detail in private (you don’t want to read it, I don’t want to type it, and besides, I’m working on brevity in my little posts), but one thing I will say that gives me a bit of peace…

God’s not finished with me yet… this thing’s a journey. And I haven’t given up yet. Frustrated, yes. Disappointed with some of my dumber tendencies, yes. Resigned to my fate as a total flake? Not quite. (Plus, I’m still stubbornly convinced that God threw some good stuff in there too when he was adding ingredients, so it’s not ALL uphill).

I’ve got to get some rest before I set myself up for Day From you-know-where, Part II, but I’ll leave with this thought:

Thank God we’re not what we used to be -
Thank God this ain’t all we’re ever gonna be.

For God is at work in you, giving you the desire to obey Him and the power to do what pleases Him. Philippians something:or other.

[watch for buses]

CURRENTLY PLAYING: The Postal Service (Death Cab’s little side project)

So I’ve decided I’m ready to switch seasons. Enough of this unholy heat. This kid is happiest in 70 degree weather. Perfection. Remind me on my twelfth move not to pick a third story apartment. Then again, this winter, my heat bill will be nada, because I’ll steal heat from folks that live below. Then we’ll see who’s clever Dan. Evil laugh.

NOW CURRENTLY PLAYING, ‘CAUSE KEV STOLE MY CD: Coldplay – Rush of Blood to the Head

But seriously. I’m ready to buy school supplies (there’s a sick desire for eternal studenthood lodged in my little brain). And sweaters. Enough of this summer clothing… summer clothing is for tan-stick-people, not Irish whities… um, who are not stick people.

When I got back from Maui (proud of my summer glow), people said to me, “Stace, did you even go outside while you were there?” shocked at the fact I was, still, a whitie. As if I’d trade in my whitie DNA for golden-tan DNA while on the Island (they hand GT-DNA out as you leave the plane, apparently). The only thing on me that can tan is the top of my feet (and I’m quite proud of my flipflop tan).

I’ve tried, people! The only thing this girl gets is more freckles. And then more freckles. I suppose if I tried hard enough, I could get all my freckles to connect, and then I’d be sort of a frightening orange-ish mess (and a skin-cancer patient), but that’s the best I can do.

But yeah, I love fall. Always feel like I’m starting something new in the fall, even when it’s just really the same old thing. And, sick person that I am, I like the cool overcast days and yes, even the rain. (It would really be tough to live anywhere but here – I love Washington).

What’s really happening is that I’ve done all the things I’ve looked forward to this summer, and am now just sort of bored. Marking time until I have something to look forward to. The only thing I’ve got coming up is a funeral… sigh. They put Grandpa on morphine yesterday, and so it probably won’t be long. Modern medicine has its marvels, but sometimes it just keeps you alive long enough to wish you were dead long time ago. (God, please PLEASE take me before 92… unless I’m for some reason, remarkably healthy, which is doubtful given my Wendy’s addiction and distaste for running).

According to deathtimer.com, I’ll probably only live to be 81. My Projected Date of Death: June 14, 2061. (Morbid, huh?) Some buddies and I checked it out on a computer in the church office, I dunno, several months ago. We were laughing, having a good time. Then one of our late-sixties pastors came and tried it. (Then, suddenly, for some reason, it just wasn’t a fun game anymore).

I could get hit by a bus tomorrow and that would be the end of it. (Or the beginning, depending on your perspective). Or, another construction truck could cut me off on the freeway again & finish the job (I’m not bitter… I’m not). My point being, I’m not guaranteed anything. My belief that if I’m doing something for God, I’ll stick around was shattered three years ago when two guys — awesome guys I knew from my year at a small Bible college — died suddenly. One, nearing graduation, died of appendicitis. Another, a youth pastor, lost his life in a freak accident a month after he married his college sweetheart.

God doesn’t owe me anything. He certainly doesn’t owe me more time.

What do I do with the moments already given me? I spend them looking forward to something else, most of the time. I find it hard to be present to the moment, especially when I’m at work, in my office-without-a-window. (Out of random curiousity, I just figured out how much of my life I’ve spent so far at my desk in my office-without-a-window. Two thousand sixteen hours.) Most of those hours wishing I was someplace else. That’s a lot of time to lose.

Which is why, although I need to work at being more present & content at work, I’m not going to stay a lawyer’s assistant forever. I work hard to do my job well because I love my boss and because I care about the quality of what I do, but paper-shuffling really isn’t that important to me. In fact, to be truthful, it bores the crap out of me. Doesn’t tap into my creativity or my core competencies at all — although I read a quote the other day that challenged me…

“Any activity becomes creative when the doer cares about doing it right or doing it better – John Updike.”

You’ll be surprised at the juicy little nuggets you get from that decod-a-quote puzzle in the paper (further proof of just how bored I get at work — and of what a nerd I am. Hey, I heard that developing other parts of your brain can help prevent Alzheimers, so sue me. Plus, they decode stuff on Alias, and everything they do is cool).

I can’t even count how many tangents that involved. Paperpushing – creativity – deepquote – nerdy puzzle – defensiveness – Alzheimer’s disease – Alias. Whoa.

Anyway, I can’t spend thousands of hours a year in a job that I’m not passionate about. At least, not without going stark raving mad. I need to be a good steward of the desires and talents that God has given me. By not stepping out towards those things, I’m cheating God and cheating myself. I realized that during my time up at Western WA University, when I was still trying to avoid pursuing ministry as a full-time occupation. I knew my heart and my plans were headed in two opposite directions, but the desire to finish something kept me stubbornly moving in the same ill-fated direction. Then a car accident stopped me in my tracks. Well, actually, the first car accident didn’t. I kept trying, even if it meant attending class on percoset (not altogether a bad thing). However, three months later, the second accident sent me home. Another pursuit left unfinished. Dang. Waste of time and money.

God is so good at redemption, however, and — despite the lack of faith that had me running scared — He redeemed this chapter of my story. Long story a tad shorter — coming home put me in the path of Wes, my youth pastor since I was 17, who said, “Intern with me!” Scared to death, but knowing it was the right move, I said yes to the three-year-internship, with the intent of becoming a worship pastor (love worship ministry, knew I was called to full-time ministry… made sense).

Began the internship in September, then, unexpectedly, January saw a goodbye to my old church as I moved with our new church plant, NewLife. Change of plan. Then, in Maui, I realize, hey, I don’t want to be a worship pastor. Not my bag. I’d rather be writing. Bummer…wonder what on earth I’ll do now? Change of plan. I get back from my vacation and Wes says, “Hey, keep leading worship, but what we’ll probably hire you to do is communication & writing.” Cool change of plan, with a dash of confirmation. And a dash of humor… communication is what I was studying in college.

So let me get this straight… Unless the plan changes significantly, I’ll be getting paid for something I went to school for and am naturally gifted in (comm/writing), for a church and pastor I love working for, while still pursuing my passion for music & worship (yet not risking killing the passion by having it be my paycheck)…

Only thing that’s hard is that I have to wait. It may be six months, it may be a year, before I turn that corner and I’m on staff, writing for my living. Obviously, though, God has had it in His hands thus far, and as I seek His will, He will work it out for my good. His timing is always best. The only thing standing in between me and the dreams I have is TIME. So I’d better learn to be patient.

Then again, that bus could be waiting for me out in the parking lot of my apartment complex. So I’d better make today count. Which reminds me, I promised myself I’d take a walk outside tonight & catch the sunset. Which is promising to be a doozie. Peace.

“For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain…”

[on humility - Thomas Merton]

Humility sets us free to do what is really good, by showing us our illusions and withdrawing our will from what was only an apparent good.
* * *
Lord, you have taught us to love humility, but we have not learned. We have learned to love the outward surface of it — the humility that makes a person charming and attractive. We sometimes pause to think about these qualities, and we often pretend that we possess them, and that we have gained them by “practicing humility.”If we were really humble, we would know to which extent we are liars!

Teach me to bear a humility which shows me, without ceasing, that I am a liar and a fraud and that, even though this is so, I have an obligation to strive after truth, to be as true as I can, even though I will inevitably find all my truth half poisoned with deceit. This is the terrible thing about humility: that it is never fully successful. If it were only possible to be completely humble on this earth. But no, that is the trouble: You, Lord, were humble. But our humility consists in being proud and knowing all about it, and being crushed by the unbearable weight of it, and to be able to do so little about it.

How stern You are in Your mercy, and yet You must be. Your mercy has to be just because Your Truth has to be True. How stern You are, nevertheless, in Your mercy: for the more we struggle to be true, the more we discover our falsity. Is it merciful of Your light to bring us, inexorably, to despair?

No– it is not to despair that You bring me but to humility. For true humility is, in a way, a very real despair: despair of myself, in order that I may hope entirely in You.

THOMAS MERTON, Thoughts in Solitude

[On Reading... from TM]

Reading ought to be an act of hommage to the God of all truth. We open our hearts to words that reflect the reality He has created or the greater Reality which He is. It is also an act of humility and reverence towards other men who are the instruments by which God communicated His truth to us.

Christ, the Incarnate Word, is the Book of Life in Whom we read God.

Things I’m grateful for today…

Picked myself up some flowers today!  Gerberas are so cheerful…

(We’ll see how long it takes for me to kill ‘em)

lunch with Mom at Olive Garden

flip flops

diet coke with lime

the sunshine we have

my fan (discussed earlier)

caramel frappuccinos at Starbucks

relaxing day at work

catching up with old friends

my deck/sanctuary…

c’mon… it just doesn’t get more peaceful than that

Tangible Grace – Good Chicken

We had some good church tonight. As a friend of mine would say, “Man, that was some good chicken.”

We strive to be a church full of grace and truth, and though we’re not perfect, I think we got a big taste of what that looks like tonight. Talked about temptation, and how none of us are exempt. None are perfect. None have reached a place where they’ve “arrived” and don’t have struggles with their old mind and old habits anymore. So let’s be real with each other and quit acting… quit pretending. Those things only keep us in bondage.

I was so proud of my pastor for his honesty and his vulnerability. It’s not easy, and it’s for sure not real common. Some ministers would prefer to keep up the guise of herculean invincibility… I’m so super-spiritual… I can handle this all on my own… I never struggle, I never falter. That approach is by far probably more impressive from a distance, but it doesn’t give much hope to those of us still living the lives of mere mortals. I don’t know about everyone else in that room, but it helped me to know that someone who God uses phenomenally, still has bad days. Still has to keep himself in check and under accountability. If God uses him even through his humanity, then God can probably find a way to use me, too.

There was a freedom tonight. People were honest about their hangups. Some even had the courage to stand, as if to say, hey, I’ve got some stuff I need God to deal with me on. And there were people there to stand with them. It was so the way church is supposed to be. No one elevated above another, just all of us there saying, hey, we all need God. We all need grace.

My expectations of God have been far too low, I’ve realized. When God actually steps in and moves hearts and changes lives, I’m very nearly astonished. Why? God’s pretty big and pretty capable. Do I pray like I actually expect God to do something? Or do I just say meaningless words because that’s what a good Christian does? Where is my heart? Do I pray like I expect God to do something in me?

There are just some moments where God’s grace just seems so big. So tangible. So capable of covering it ALL. The reminder of how much I’m loved by God was so refreshing. It hit me hard. I didn’t realize how much I needed it til it came, and the tears flowed a bit. It was just like God whispered to my heart – Stace – I see you. My eyes are on you. And I love you. Quit trying so hard. Just know I already enjoy you. No need to try and impress Me.

It’s been a long week with many responsibilities. Adding to some of the heaviness I felt this week – my grandpa is most likely in the final days of his life as I write. I’ve known this is coming – he’s 92 and has had about a million quad-bypasses – but it’s bringing up emotions I didn’t know I had, for a man who is pretty rough around the edges, always hard to please, and sometimes a bit hard to love. I’ve often joked that Grandpa is going to die of shock a second time when he gets to heaven and sees all the people God decided to let in. Family is family, though, even when they’re stinkers sometimes, and I can’t help but feel pain at the fact that he is in so much pain. Plus, it’s really the pot calling the kettle black for me to pass judgement on someone else for their judgementalism. God’s grace covers all…

Please pray for my grandpa’s peaceful passing (he’s ready to go and has said so), for my Grandma (sweetest lady in the world) and for my family as we go through this time & figure out how to travel down to Stockton for services.

I’ve learned that when a God moment happens in your heart, you just let it resound in there for a while. Thanks for letting me share it. May God’s grace resound in your heart and life this week.

Blessings, S