Dating App Profiles... YIKES! @-@

So, sorry again for the delay... But I think it was only a couple of weeks or so, so at least I'm getting better? 😅

So, I've tried a couple of times to write a blog post covering 2023: The Year From Hell, in order to more rapidly update you, my loyal readers, on how much absolute chaos came in, tore my life apart, and then rebuilt it as something almost unrecognizable.  Each time, I get to about March before the sorrow bogs me down and... well, it's basically this scene from The Neverending Story:

So, for the present moment and until I might possibly be able to summarize things, I'm just going to keep writing posts about relevant events or emotions in my current life and give the 2023 connection as the tragic backstory.  

Here goes Attempt #1 at Life after 2023...

One of the biggest changes in 2023 was the end of my 26-year marriage. Things didn't start out on the best foundation to begin with, and just like in the biblical Parable of the House Foundations in Matthew 7, our marriage collapsed when the storms of life came roaring through (I'm not going to get into the details here in this post, or possibly ever in this blog.  Then again, if I DO, I will try to be as careful as I can to be fair and to protect what needs to be protected, both for myself and for my ex.  Because it's the right thing to do, that's why...)

My marriage officially ended on December 29th of 2023, after 13 months of separation and failed mediation.  A couple of weeks later, just out of curiosity, I started looking at dating services to see what might be out there for the second half of my life.  And Whooooo, BOY... The post-40 online dating scene is WHACK, y'all! 😳🤯😱  Not just because in order to actually filter matches by anything relevant, I had to sign up for a paid account (which is stupid and a pain in the Mikta from my perspective as someone who is "Just LOOKING, for crying out loud! Jeez!") And not just because most of the tentative matches looked and sounded like my ex... Though that WAS a definite roadblock to me actually creating any paid accounts on any of the dating apps I explored (Beautiful Letdown's Life Hack #1: "Occupation" should describe your generalized career pathway when you are working at what you trained for and expected to do until you retire... Please stop listing "Unemployed" as your Occupation, for the love of all things that are holy, unholy, and everything in between AND for your future hopes of ever actually meeting someone through a dating app 😬)

No, for ME, the absolute most whack thing about dating apps is this: Most of them want me to create a "Dating Profile" of some sort or another, so that I can introduce myself proactively to potentially EVERY SINGLE MALE USER OF THE SITE and let them decide whether or not to initiate contact.  In theory, my profile would only appear magically to those who somehow have convinced the app's algorithm that we might make a good match... In reality, though, I think the "Currently-Dating" subsection of the general public most definitely needs a bit more of a heads-up before deciding whether or not to initiate contact with me 😅

Soooooo... Those of you who know me can already guess where this is going, and can choose to bow out gracefully now.  For the rest of you, here is what I came up with for my potential "Dating Profile" 😄

******************

Dating Profile Sketch: 

Personality: Sparkling. As in you could put me out for unsuspecting porch pirates and make a YouTube career out of the results, a la Mark Rober. I am a walking, talking Glitter Bomb.  Or, to quote Glen Phillips yet again, I am a riot of color and light... See the end for the usual tangentially-connected-to-something-somewhere-in-the-post music video 😊

Looks: After seeing myself in the mirror every morning for several decades, I’ve grown somewhat immune to the effect. But you probably won’t need a Rottweiler to scare away solicitors if I happen to answer the door without my full makeup on. Or even WITH my full makeup on… I’m just that stunning, I guess. 

Religion: Christian, but I was raised Jewish by a mom who honestly believed she was the reincarnation of Jesus’ sister Leah who was a druid-like cave prophetess. I kid you not, she honestly believed this. She also believed that America in the 1980s and ‘90s was heading for it’s own Holocaust, so she raised my sister and I as “undercover” Jews who celebrated Christmas and Easter so we might not be swept up in the raids she was sure were about to happen. I embraced Jesus Christ as my Savior when I was 20 after 2 decades of struggling to not keep hitting rock bottom, and have found a way to honor my Jewish heritage and my Christian faith by blending them into the way I live and the choices I make each day. I currently attend a Baptist church because they accept both parts of my faith and have never asked me to renounce my Jewishness in order to become a “new creation Christian”. (Not a single word of this is hyperbole, unlike many/most of my other responses in this profile.) 

Occupation: Yes. I am very occupied most of the time. I currently work as a substitute teacher at the high school level, but I also work as a front-end manager at a small grocery store on the weekends and over the summer. Basically what I do is supervise grown adults and adults-in-training, make sure that they are doing what they are supposed to be doing at that moment, and guide and train them if they don’t know how to do what they’re supposed to do. I’ve found over years of trial and error that I don’t have the patience for large groups of small children, but that I’m really good at working with teenagers, young adults, and customers who want to know if they can return the 16 packages of hemp seed that they bought last week for $2.97 apiece and then re-buy them for the current clearance price of 4 for 97 cents. (Again, not hyperbole… I told Hemp Seed Lady that the ONLY reason I was going to do the “exchange” for her was because she was totally upfront and honest about it, and that it was a refreshing change from the usual do-the-return-at-one-register-and-then-rebuy-the-same-item-at-a-different-register sketchiness.) 

Hobbies: Portrait photography, reading, jewelry-making, digital art and clothing re-design (basically buying clothes at Goodwill or on Temu and then altering them to make them look like I actually want them to look). And also ping-ponging between trying to get my generally unflappable closing manager to finally lose his schnozz over my shenanigans and apologizing profusely to him for making his job harder than it needs to be. 

Family: Divorced with 3 grown kids and a whole bunch of “adopted” kiddos from over the years. Mom passed away this past summer, and Dad is in a memory care facility, so the upshot is that you won’t have to worry about impressing (or even meeting, unless you want to bring your own Ouija board) my parents. 

Music: All of this is my own personal opinion, of course, but… Jazz is the best instrumental music there is, period. Nirvana is extremely overrated… Dave Pirner and Doug Hopkins could both write Kurt Cobain under the table. “New Miserable Experience” is pretty darn close to a perfect album, with not a single skippable track on it, as is “And the Horse They Rode In On". So are Switchfoot’s “Nothing Is Sound” and “The Beautiful Letdown”. And if Nirvana is overrated, then Toad the Wet Sprocket is equally underrated, and have only improved since “Fear” and “Dulcinea”. So, basically, my playlist is a collection of 1970s comfort music, 1980s pop, 1990s alternative, and 2000s Christian rock, plus some of my kid’s jazz band recordings and other random stuff that I just like. 

TV: Not a huge TV watcher, but my favorite shows are Agents of SHIELD, Stargate SG-1, Arrow, and Firefly. Plus I actually made myself watch all 9 seasons of The Flash AND the entire Inhumans series, so that counts towards endurance in the face of agony and utter "WTH is THIS, now?!?"-ness, in my book. 

Movies: Unless a movie is really, really good, I find myself losing interest and checking the remaining runtime by about the halfway point. Some movies that DIDN’T have me checking the runtime at halftime include “Life Is Beautiful”, “A Beautiful Mind”, “The Greatest Showman”, “O Brother Where Art Thou”, “The Princess Bride”, “Knives Out”, “The Book Thief”, and 3 of the 4 Avengers movies (feel free to guess or fight me on which one I was peeking at my phone clock during) There are a lot of other movies that were good enough to keep watching after checking the runtime, but these are probably my favorites and always worth a re-watch. 

Looking for: Someone who is willing to put up with my shenanigans and accept me for who I am, not who you think I might become in time. There is no doubt that I am difficult; the question is whether or not I am worth it. 

**************

So... There you have it.  I never actually signed up for any of the dating apps after the "free" trial or whatever they offered... And that ended up totally being OK, because I actually DID end up meeting someone online in a completely different format.  And if you think dating apps are whack, just try dating ITSELF after 40 sometime (potentially more on THAT topic in future blog posts, depending on how things go from here 😄) 

Also, here is the promised music video... This is currently one of my favorite songs, and has been for almost a year now.  It's just kind of me and my current hopes in a 4-and-a-half minute nutshell 😍

Deceptively Bouncy Songs About Really Dark Stuff...

(The rough draft of this post was written in 2014 or thereabouts... I've updated it for 2024 because it's one of the posts I've always wanted to finish and post, so be prepared for some back-and-forth time travel between 2014 and the current day :-D)

Ah, music... That gentle breeze that softens the heart, soothes the soul, and inspires all sorts of belabored caterwauling ^_^   This is kind of a related post to the one about music at high school dances...  While that post focused on a conversation I had with one of my daughter's friends about the current state of pop music, this post is inspired by a conversation my daughter had with a different friend of hers.  This friend has an unruly habit of bursting into random songs at nearly random times for no apparent reason (and for those of you who knew my daughter in high school, you probably also know exactly who I'm talking about here... but I'm not naming names, so y'all be quiet there :-P )

As the story goes, my daughter and her friend are sitting in Biology class when, for no reason explicable to anyone but himself, he randomly starts singing "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" by those studly icons of early eighties fashion Wham!  (In case you're one of those poor misfortunate souls who missed the 1980s, here's a little audio-visual reminder of the glory of Wham!... and hot pants, evidently o.O )
 

Now, my ex-husband and I both grew up in the 80s (him as a teen and myself as an elementary-schooler), and as punishment over the years, we've both forced our children to watch selected MTV footage from our own youth.  ("Oh, yeah?  So THAT'S what YOUR friends are listening to???  Well, let me show YOU something, Buttercup...")  So my daughter is well familiar with not only the song itself, but also with the actual lyrics of the song and the story it tells; for those who don't remember (or who can only tolerate about 34 seconds of the above video o.O ), here are the words:

You put the boom-boom into my heart
You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts
Jitterbug into my brain
Goes a bang-bang-bang 'til my feet do the same
But something's bugging me
Something ain't right
My best friend told me what you did last night
Left me sleepin' in my bed
I was dreaming, but I should have been with you instead.

Wake me up before you go-go
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing tonight
I wanna hit that high (yeah, yeah)

You take the grey skies out of my way
You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day
Turned a bright spark into a flame
My beats per minute never been the same

'Cause you're my lady, I'm your fool
It makes me crazy when you act so cruel
Come on, baby, let's not fight
We'll go dancing, everything will be all right

Wake me up before you go-go
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin'' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing tonight
I wanna hit that high (yeah, yeah, baby)

(Jitterbug)
(Jitterbug)

Cuddle up, baby, move in tight
We'll go dancing tomorrow night
It's cold out there, but it's warm in bed
They can dance, we'll stay home instead

(Jitterbug)

Wake me up before you go-go
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing tonight
Wake me up before you go-go, don't you dare to leave me hanging on like a
yo-yo
Take me dancing

(Boom-boom-boom-boom)

(source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/)

So, after boiling down all those masterful literary allusions and all of the boom-boom-booms, what you basically have is a bouncy little song about a guy whose girl is leaving him at home to go out dancing with other guys behind his back.  Which is what my daughter immediately began to tell her friend... only with a lot more huffing and puffing and stomping and righteous indignation than I feel up to putting into this blog post right now ^_^  To his credit, I don't think her friend has ever had the nerve to sing that song in front of her ever again; his response to her diatribe, however, was something along the lines of "But, it's just a song... A fast, bouncy, happy song!  Just listen to it... How can you not love this song?!?"

Which is what got me thinking... How many other songs are there out there that sound happy and cute and bouncy but are really dark and depraved and depressing?

Well, here are a couple that come to mind...

1. Gin Blossoms, "Hold Me Down"
Basically, a song about getting wasted, hating it, but doing it anyway...  Actually, I do love this song, not because I think it's bouncy (though it is) and happy (it's most definitely not), but because it reminds me why I chose not to drink for 30 years and why, after 30 years of fear of becoming my mother, I started drinking again to see if I could actually handle it or not, or if I was letting my fear control me too much.  To my inherent relief, I've discovered that I am stubborn enough after forty-mrrphhfff years of sometimes-hard living to limit myself to 2 glasses of wine at the end of the day, when I'm not planning on going out again for the night, and to not ever go beyond that.  So I have hope that I'm able to conquer and subdue this particular childhood demon, with God's help :-)  But anyway, here's the song...

Lyrics:

So I guess I must have just been dreaming
When I thought I heard myself say no
Anyway it looks like no one heard me so here I go
'Cause when you're in the company of strangers
Or just the strangers you call friends
You know before you start just how it's going to end

When the doors swing open and all the drinks are passed around
Anytime the pickin's look too easy
Hold me down

I can't remember why I like this feeling
When it only seems to let me down
Soon I find I'm searching for the exit from the ground
If I think the room is turning faster
Then I think the music is too loud
By then I've lived another broken story to let me down

When those doors swing open and all the drinks are passed around
When half the party moves into the bathroom
Hold me down
Or if you're at the tail end of the evening
And Dr. Feelgood comes around
Anytime the pickin's look too easy
Hold me down

Down if I want that part
Down if I've gone too far

Well I guess I must have just been reeling
When I felt myself begin to fall
I realize I'm bounding down the hallways and off the walls
If my bed was standing in the corner
I could just fall into it right now
And know that I'd just be staring at the ceiling going round

So remember, when those doors swing open and all the drinks are passed around
Anytime the pickin's look too easy
Hold me down

2. Toad the Wet Sprocket, "Fall Down"
Another song from my early teens, this one's about watching a friend self-destruct and feeling helpless to do anything about it.  Once again, I actually like this song because I've been both the self-destructor and the friend watching from the sidelines, and this song reminds me not to stand by and do nothing anymore.  Still, not a happy song...

Lyrics:

She said "I'm fine, I'm okay"
Cover up your trembling hands
It's indecision when you know you ain't got nothing left
When the good times never stay
And the cheap thrills always seem to fade away
When will we fall down?

Jump back, got to get out of here
Been too, too long this time
Jump back, got to get out of here
When will we fall down?

She hates her life she hates her skin she even hates her friends
Tries to hold on to all the reputations she can't mend
And there's some chance we could fail
But the last time someone was always there for bail
When will we fall down?

Jump back, got to get out of here
Been too, too long this time
Jump back, got to get out of here
When will we fall down?

She said "I'm fine, I'm okay"
Cover up your trembling hands
It's indecision when you know you ain't got nothing left
For the last time conscience calls
For a good friend I was never there at all
When will we fall down? 

3. Sleeperstar, "Bullseye Trigger"
Unlike a lot of what I listen to, here is a song that's actually from this century (funny how that sounds really cool until you actually think about it... o.O )  I like this song because it's got a story to it... It makes me actually want to write the rest of the novel around it ^_^

Lyrics:

"Don't bring a gun," couldn't say it enough
"Just the money and a smile
Don't try to be tough"
Shoes and jeans and a cardigan sweater
You would say I'd never looked better
I meet her in the corner of a high-class bar
She says, "Boy, you don't know where you are"
She moves quicker, bullseye trigger
Somehow the cops still manage to miss her

"Don't try to talk to the EMT"
The officer is trying to question me
"The lady left the scene on a Japanese bike
With a bottle of Port, and some Menthol lights"
I feel the respirator going off and on
They assure me that it really won't take that long
But the burning
The burning is burning
The burning is burning
The burning is burning

She don't feel the pain she's causin'
You thought that you were automatic
The only one that's gonna survive
I've got evidence on her
A bullet in the shoulder
You can have it if you want it
If she can't finish what she started
Not a threat no it's a promise
I'll make you wish you never left me alive
Can you feel the heat that's comin'?
It's sure to be traumatic
When I finally get my hands on you

I meet her in the corner of a high-class bar
She says, "Boy, you don't know where you are"
She moves quicker, bullseye trigger
Somehow the cops still manage to miss her

She don't feel the pain she's causin'
You thought that you were automatic
The only one that's gonna survive
I've got evidence on her
A bullet in the shoulder
You can have it if you want it
If she can't finish what she started
Not a threat no it's a promise
I'll make you wish you never left me alive
Can you feel the heat that's comin'?
It's sure to be traumatic
When I finally get my hands on you

She don't feel the pain she's causin'
You thought that you were automatic
The only one that's gonna survive
I've got evidence on her
A bullet in the shoulder
You can have it if you want it
If she can't finish what she started
Not a threat no it's a promise
I'll make you wish you never left me alive
Can you feel the heat that's comin'?
It's sure to be traumatic
When I finally get my hands on you

4. The Eagles, "Heartache Tonight"

This will forever be known to me as "The Middle-School-Dance Song", because it literally sounds like the after-the-fact summary of every single middle school dance that my daughter went to and/or every single high school dance that I chaperoned 😆  I have loved the bass line of this song and its inescapable singalongability (yes, Google, I KNOW that's not a real word, but by God it should be...) since I was a small child listening to my mom's record collection, but the lyrics didn't really take on a 3-dimensional aspect until I was a parent chaperone at school dances 😂

Lyrics:

 

Somebody's gonna hurt someone
Before the night is through
Somebody's gonna come undone
There's nothin' we can do
Everybody wants to touch somebody
If it takes all night
Everybody wants to take a little chance
Make it come out right
 

There's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
Lord, I know
 

Some people like to stay out late
Some folks can't hold out that long
But nobody wants to go home now
There's too much goin' on
This night is gonna last forever
Last all, last all summer long
Sometime before the sun comes up
The radio is gonna play that song
 

There's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
Lord, I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
The moon shinin' bright
So turn out the light and we'll get it right
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
Heartache, baby

Somebody's gonna hurt someone (somebody)
Before the night is through
Somebody's gonna come undone
There's nothing we can do
everybody wants to touch somebody
If it takes all night (mmm)
Everybody wants to take a little chance
And make it come out right
 

There's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
There's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
Let's go
 

We can beat around the bushes
We can get down to the bone
We can leave it in the parking lot
But either way there's gonna be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight, I know
Oh, I know there'll be a heartache tonight
A heartache tonight I know
Woo-woo
Break my heart

5. "Trigger Happy", by Weird Al Yankovic

This is seriously one of the most bizarrely peppy songs I have EVER heard... And I LOVE it way more than I probably should 😂  Only Weird Al Yankovic can take the subject matter of the NRA, Second Amendment rights, and accidental shootings and turn it into a peppy surf-pop ditty that DOESN'T get him culturally-cancelled... And he does a masterful job here of poking holes in the argument that the 2nd Amendment guarantees the unlimited right to bear whatever arms we can imagine under any possible circumstances we can imagine, no matter what.  So it's a rare combination of relevant social commentary, clever lyricism, and high-energy pop candy music, and as I've said before, I LOVE it 😍. I think this is actually my second-favorite Weird Al song of all time... I will address my all-time favorite song of his in a future blog post about breakup songs, but for now, here's "Trigger Happy", in all its glory:

 Lyrics:

Got an AK-47, well you know it makes me feel alright
Got an Uzi by my pillow, helps me sleep a little better at night
There's no feeling any greater
Than to shoot first and ask questions later
Now I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day

Well, you can't take my guns away, I got a constitutional right
Yeah, I gotta be ready if the Commies attack us tonight
I'll blow their brains out with my Smith and Wesson
That ought to teach them all a darn good lesson
Now I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day
trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
(Oh baby, I'm) trigger, trigger happy
Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
(Oh I'm so) trigger, trigger happy
Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away

Oh, I accidently shot daddy last night in the den
I mistook him in the dark for a drug-crazed Nazi again
Now why'd you have to get so mad?
It was just a lousy flesh wound, Dad
You know, I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day

Oh, I still haven't figured out the safety on my rifle yet
Little Fluffy took a round, better take him to the vet
I filled that kitty cat so full of lead
We'll have to use him for a pencil instead
Well, I'm so trigger happy, trigger happy every day
trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
(Oh baby, I'm) trigger, trigger happy
Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
(Oh I'm so) trigger, trigger happy
Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away

Come on and grab your ammo
What have you got to lose?
We'll get all liquored up
And shoot at anything that moves

Got a brand new semi-automatic weapon with a laser sight
Oh, I'm prayin' somebody tries to break in here tonight
I always keep a Magnum in my trunk
You better ask yourself, do you feel lucky, punk?
Because I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day
trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
(Oh baby, I'm) trigger, trigger happy
Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
(Oh I'm so) trigger, trigger happy
Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy
Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away
Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away
Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away
Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away 

(For the record, before anyone accuses me of being a whore to either side of the gun rights debate, I'd just like to point out that I think BOTH sides can agree that Yankovic's description is something we'd ALL like to avoid, and that somewhere in the middle, we can all find an agreeable compromise between safety and security.)

OK, now it's your turn... What are YOUR favorite bouncy songs about really dark stuff? 😀

Inappropriate Worship Songs, Part 1...

OK, so at the very least, this should be a short post... 

I use iBroadcast for my music streaming because it allows me to upload my entire music collection and then stream it from my phone, my computer, pretty much any browser window everywhere as long as I can remember my login email and password. Plus, I can use the "One Queue" option to use the same playlist on all of my devices and almost seamlessly move between my computer and my phone without restarting the song (which is nice for when I'm listening to music on my Mac and then have to head out to work and want to continue the song I'm listening to in the car on my drive) :-D 

So, anyway, I'm sitting here at home listening to my music and scrolling through FB, and a song by one of my most recent favorite artists comes on... I've always known of Glen Phillips as the lead singer of Toad the Wet Sprocket, and I knew on a theoretical level that he had put out some solo albums. But it wasn't until I separated from my husband of 25 years and started trying to figure out who I actually was aside from wife, mother, and verbal punching bag that I started listening to Phillips' solo work. Some of his songs are just beautiful, and others are snarky as heck... And some are both at the same time, which I find hilarious :-D Some of his songs make me feel called out under a spotlight (looking at YOU, here, "Professional Victim"...)

And then there's the song I heard tonight. Which sits in a class all by itself as my most favorite Inappropriate Worship Song Ever :-D 

The song I'm talking about is "Drive By", from Phillips' first solo album, Abulum. On the surface, it's the reminiscence of a childhood incident, inspired by a story told to Phillips by his friend Ben Folds. But what I most love about this song is that at the core of the chorus, it's a worship song to a God who is there in both the holy and the profane moments of our lives. A God who doesn't just live in the church we visit (sometimes) on Sundays, but who sits in the backseat of the car with us as we set out on dubious missions, with all of our doubts screaming in our ears the whole time. A God who longs for us to call out to him in our random moments of desperation, not just our moments of proper behavior when we've got it all together and have already completed 3 of the 5 items on our daily to-do list. Because you see, this is the God I know and love. He's a God who has been there consistently through all of my darkest times, even when I didn't know He was there. He was there when I was being abused and is the one who kept it from killing me. When I was trying to kill myself, He was the one who kept me from succeeding. He was there when I struggled with the overwhelming role of being a parent, and He whispered advice in my ear that helped me raise 3 phenomenal humans that I am so, so, SO very proud of every day. He was there when my parents told me I was ugly, stupid, too much trouble, and a failure at what I was "supposed" to be. When my now-ex screamed in my face so closely that I felt his spit hit my cheeks and forehead that if I was going to act stupid (by remaining silent as he screamed), he was going to treat me like I was stupid, "A stupid, F**KING B*TCH."

At all of these times, my God has been there quietly in the background to tell me "Shhh... It's OK, that's not true. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, you are My child and I will avenge you, you have a future that you would not even believe even if I told you it in advance." My God is a god of the current moment, not just of the eventual future glory. 

Which brings me back to "Drive By" by Glen Phillips. I will warn you in advance, this is definitely a PG-13 song, subject matter-wise. No bad language, but you might be hard pressed to explain some of what he's talking about to a pre-pubescent child, just saying X-D 

 

I love this song, but something tells me it's not going to be popping up in my church's worship service any time soon...

Why I Hate Taking Selfies

The other day, a friend I was texting sent me a selfie and asked me to send one as well... Nothing inappropriate, just kind of putting a non-emoji face to words. And I was reminded yet again why even the thought of taking selfies puts me into an irrational state of frozen terror, because I am the LEAST photogenic person I know >_<

Some people just seem to naturally be able to take a perfect selfie from any place at any time.  My daughter has a friend who just somehow seems to look amazing in every single photograph I've ever seen of him... This was a long-running joke at one point, since every time she would post pictures on social media with this particular friend in them, virtually ALL of her female friends would go ballistic and try to get his phone number, street address, class schedule, or any other potentially identifying piece of intel from her by any means necessary.  I think we decided eventually that this friend could probably post pictures of himself on the toilet taking a dump and STILL look hot... (No, as far as I am aware, no such pictures exist, because that's gross and just... Ewww.)

On the other hand, pretty much every candid photograph of me has me looking like a combination of Lurch from the Addams Family, the accomplice whose testimony puts the killer in jail in pretty much every Forensics Files episode ever, and one of the sexier Orcs from Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.  And in the vast majority of posed photographs, I look like I want to be literally anywhere else doing anyTHING else at the moment the shutter goes off.  I'm not all that ugly in real life (I promise), but for some reason I simply do not photograph well :-/ 

This is not a post about the pros and cons of "selfie culture" or about how TikTok may be the single greatest threat to world peace in the high school classroom... I'm operating on too little sleep to go that deep.  But ever since the selfie incident the other day, I've been puzzling over why I have such an aversion to having my picture taken, and I think I may have finally figured it out :-) 

I think some people seem to have an innate knowledge of themselves and an ability to be still in who they are... When a camera comes out, they can pause and rest confidently in themselves long enough for an image to be captured of their face and their soul.  Which continues to build their confidence, because they can look at the photos and recognize themselves and go, "Yep, that's me! :-D"

And then there's me.  Those of you who know me know I am a force of nature, a hurricane in constant motion who cannot sit still or shut up to save her life :-D  And I am still, at forty-mrphff years old trying to figure out who I am, especially with all of the chaos that 2023 dumped into my life.  So while I am getting much better at being still and knowing that God is God (and I am not, for the record, just in case anyone was wondering ;-D), I have not yet learned to be still and know who and/or what I am :-/  So, in terms of still photography, this might explain why virtually every picture taken of me ever looks like your TV screen when you pause the video on a particularly awkward moment... 

 

So, yeah, who knows... Maybe I've just solved one of the great mysteries of our time here.  Or maybe I just felt the need to get this concept out of my head and onto the screen so I can go and enjoy my day off after a long and exhausting work week :-D  

(And no, I shall not be posting any selfies here... That would kind of defeat the purpose of a semi-anonymous blog now, wouldn't it? ;-D)

Long Time, No Hear... But I Guess I've Got to Re-Start Somewhere...

Hello again, after nearly a decade away 😳  I honestly didn't expect to be out of writing for so long, but a ton of stuff has happened-- some good, some bad, all of it life-changing in one way or another-- and I've finally gotten to a point where I feel ready to start writing again.  The following is a journal entry from a few days ago, but today I got a reminder of something I had forgotten to include, and it felt like a gentle holy nudge to publish and share my grief and praise with the world (yes, for my fellow Glen Phillips fans out there, that is a song reference and there will be a music video at the end, just like the old days...)

I will probably end up explaining more of the Stuff That Happened while I was away in future blog posts, but this is where I'm choosing to start, so here goes... 

*****

February 12, 2024

Tonight, I am grieving the loss of yet another of my former students.  I remember Derek and his twin (not identical, because I could always tell the two apart) brother Ryan from junior and senior English classes, and when I saw the “Sad News” email heading from my school district and read the latest death notice, Derek’s smile and his scrawny little mustache loomed in front of my eyes like a ghost… Yes, I know it’s banal, but yeah, like a frickin’ ghost.  I’ve been holding it in these past couple of days, but I guess a couple glasses of wine breaks down the barrier between the “Oh, how sad” and the “OMFG, he’s another child gone with no tomorrow…”

Tonight, I add him to the list… Which has stayed in my head for the most part because I fear I will break apart if I actually see all of their names in one place in writing, I guess.  I included the (partial, though at the time I hoped it would be final, as we do…) list at the dedication to my Master’s Thesis back in 2017, hoping that that would be the end of it, but goddamnit, the list won’t stop growing…

Proof that we live in a broken world, and I am here trying to fix it with frickin’ scotch tape and a prayer.

2011 Tucker (Class of 2018)
2013 Cesar (2016)
2015 Page (2015)
2016 Brandt (2016)
2016 Pedro (2019)
2016 Noah (2016)
2016 Alexandria (2015)
2016 Dani (2017)
2019 Maddie (2022)
2019 Arvin (2022)
2020 Hayden (2022)
2020 Wesley (2020)

2021 Simon (2022)

2022 Johnathon (2021)

2024 Derek (2023)

Again, I am reminded that I only have a brief moment to make an eternal impact on each kid that I meet in the classroom, and that each moment can effect eternity… Each time I speak to a kid,  it may be the last thing I ever say to them, and who knows if it will be something that will play in their head on repeat for ever and ever until the end.  I don’t remember what the last thing I ever said to Derek was, and I probably never will, but I hope that it was something that encouraged him instead of discouraging him, or maybe it was something he forgot along the way, which is also fine.  We do not know the eternal impact our careless words have, so be careful what you say each time you open your mouth.

*****
And here is the promised music video, Glen Phillips' "Grief and Praise"...

And here is an article in which Glen explains where songs like "Grief and Praise" from his album Swallowed By The New came from: 

https://www.independent.com/2016/10/13/exclusive-interview-glen-phillips-on-swallowed-by-new/ 

Many of the things he went through that led to his first album in a decade are exactly the same ones I've gone through in the past decade, so yeah, I can definitely relate... But more to come on that in future blog posts...

The One About the Girl With the Sharp Tongue Who Sometimes Cuts Her Own Throat...

OK, so… Boy, I seem to start a lot of my writings that way :-) 

But anyway…

Yes, it’s been a long several months since I last published anything; no, I’m not going to go into a lengthy explanation of the whys and wherefores of where I’ve been.  I will say this, though: Several months back, I read a blog post that a friend of mine shared about being careful not to spend so much time blogging about our lives that we forget to live them, and it really hit home for me.  So, I’ve been taking some time off from blogging and just kind of focusing on simply living life each day with my family and friends.  And life has been exceptionally busy this year, so… Yep.  That’s where I’ve been :-)

So, tonight, I was sitting here on the couch in our new apartment (we moved over the summer… yeah, that was actually one of the more fun parts of the busyness :-D ), listening to iTunes and working on my mental list of people I now owe apologies to for running my mouth (What?  Don’t tell me I’m the ONLY person out there who does that every once in a while… ^_^ ), and this song came on:

I’m like a promise, I’m like a promise
I’m like a promise broken every time I open my mouth
Open my mouth, I open my mouth

OK, yeah… That’s me, right there, encapsulated in a single sentence.  It’s like I know I’ve got so much potential in me to do good, to do the right things, to love people and treat them like I want to be treated….

And then I open my mouth and all that promise just gets hurled to the ground and shattered into shards of glass that fly everywhere and cut the people who most need me to be gentle with them.  The Bible says in James 3 that the tongue steers our life like the rudder of a ship, that unlike any other wild animal, we cannot seem to tame it, no matter how hard we try.  The human tongue is like a flame that sets the forest ablaze; in my case, it seems more like a scalpel that strips the skin away and leaves the nerves frayed and loose and open to all the grit of daily life…

Under the surface, under the surface
Under the surface sometimes I wanna slip right out of my skin
Out of my, slip right out of my skin

Sometimes, when I hear the words that come out of my mouth, all I want to do is find a way to pretend that I’m really someone else, a good twin who can deny all knowledge of anything “that other person” has said.  I wish there was someone else that I could shrug my shoulders for and say, “No, that wasn’t me… Must have been that other chick who just happens to look like me and live around here.  I think I saw her go off in that direction…”  Maybe, just maybe, 38 years ago, my mom actually gave birth to identical twins in secret, and then the government wiped her memory and took one of the twins away to train her as a black-leather-and-spandex-clad secret assassin, and now there’s some kind of super-secret spy agent out there who looks exactly like me (only in leather and spandex... which I, for the record, would never wear together...) and is now running around all over the Chehalem Valley doing whatever she can with her words to mess up my life and my relationships and my reputation so she can murder me and bury me under the new patio in the backyard and then seamlessly take over my life…

No, wait… that’s a show on Netflix.  Never mind.

Well, until my clones start showing up on my doorstep, I guess I’m stuck with the knowledge that, nope, it’s just me using my own tongue as a weapon of mass destruction to take out half the population of Newberg.  Sigh…

And tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Break into pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start

Now there’s the hope in the situation…  God doesn’t expect me to be perfect all the time.  God doesn’t expect me to be perfect any of the time.  Which is really good, because I’ve always sucked at perfection (just ask my sister… the real one, not the long-hoped for evil twin one ^_^ )  But when I get to the point where I’ve completely FUBARed things, that’s where God can come in and make the biggest difference.  Not that I should go around trying to screw everything up… but since I seem to be so darned good at it sometimes, it helps to know that God can salvage anything and turn it into something beautiful in His way and time :-)

Do you remember, do you remember?
Do you remember when I was young and I knew everything?
I knew everything about everything

(Yes, before she even comments, my sister will definitely confirm that this was totally me when we were growing up... and that at least 2 of my 3 kids take after their mother in that regard... and that she was NEVER like that at ANY point in HER youth... ;-D )

Such a long time, such a long time
Such an uphill climb just to finally get over myself
Over my, I’m so over myself

So tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Break me to pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start

I don’t know where, I don’t know how
Maybe a prayer, maybe a cloud
I don’t know where, I don’t know how

So tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Gather the pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start
                     --Bebo Norman, "At the End of Me"

You see, that’s what I absolutely LOVE about God: He takes us right where we are, and then moves us forward from there.  His grace isn’t about making me feel really crappy about the stupid thing I’ve just said— I already feel crappy enough about that already, thank you very much :-P  God’s grace says to me, “OK, yes, you messed up here, I concur.  Now here’s what we’re going to do about it… You go and do what you can to apologize and make things right, and meanwhile, I’ll go and take care of the rest of it.  Then we can leave this in the past and move on to our next crazy adventure…  Hurry up, gotta dash. Things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard...”

(OK, so I'm still waiting for one of God's plans for me to include a lizard... Darn you, Netflix...)

I find that, when I’m stressed, I tend to lose what little control I have over my mouth, and then out come all sorts of sharply sarcastic, mean-spirited, “I was just joking…” sort of comments, armed and loaded and just ready to take flight and stab people straight in the heart.  And yes, I’ve been stressed recently… There’s a lot of stuff going on and way more running around and trying to fit everything everyone wants to do into the schedule somehow than I ever expected going into this school year.

But…

If I know that being stressed makes me more of a sharp-tongued shrew, then I have an obligation to try harder to keep it under control when I am stressed.  Because honestly?  None of the seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time comments that come flying out of my mouth ever seem to make life easier or less stressful for anybody, myself included.

So this is why I’m writing this now…

First off, if you’re at all like me and you find yourself at times mistaking your tongue for a Ginsu...

... Don’t beat yourself up.  God loves you, He’ll forgive you if you ask Him to, and then He can help you get up and move on.  Apologize to the person you’ve hurt and ask for their forgiveness; they might forgive you, they might not, either way, you’ve done what you can to make peace (Romans 12:18, one of my favorite verses :-D ) and now all you can do is move forward anyway.  Maybe if I’m honest about the fact that I screw up waaaaaaaaay more often in this area than I’m proud of, it can help someone else too.

Second off (Second on?  Secondly?  Maybe it’s just Second…), I’m writing this to ask for people to help hold me accountable.  Sometimes (as God has been pointing out to me recently), I say things in the moment and then just kind of walk away thinking everyone’s laughing and every thing’s fine and everyone understands what I really meant… and I have absolutely no clue until days later that someone’s been lying on the ground behind me bleeding out from their soul because of something stupid that I said.  And let me tell you, that is one sickening realization to come to, especially when the person bleeding to death is someone I love almost more than life itself.

So, the next time I say something (or write something, or you’ve heard that I’ve said something) and it hurts, tell me.  I can’t do anything to make things right and try to bandage up the wounds I’ve caused unless I know about it.  And as a Christian, I want to make things right,  I want to heal wounds and make things better…  Just as I’m supposed to be an ambassador for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:20) and help to bring peace and healing between God and people, I need to do everything I can to bring peace and healing between myself and those that I have hurt.  Even if it’s embarrassing, even if it’s awkward, even if people never forgive me and I end up alone in some cave somewhere waiting for my evil clone twin to show up and finish the job I’ve started… 

No, wait… Too much Netflix is apparently bad for my blogging life :-P

My most recent parenting fail... Sorry, but it's not a funny one this time :-/

I'm beginning to think that the hardest part of raising kids is letting them go.  Now, none of mine are quite old enough to leave the nest yet, so I'm not talking about the big, scary, drive them halfway across the country and then leave them there so they can attend the college of their dreams sort of letting go (though a dear friend of mine just got back home from doing that very thing with her oldest... you are one brave woman, Melinda :-D ).  No, I'm talking about the kind of letting go that comes from realizing that the time has come to step back as a parent and trust your kids to make their own decisions, even if and especially when you're not there to make sure that they do, in fact, make the RIGHT decision.

Today, one of my kids made the wrong decision, and I was at work in another town and completely unable to do anything about it.

Now, before any of you who know me start emailing me with questions of "OMG!!!!!  WHICH KID WAS IT AND WHAT DID THEY DO???  HOW MUCH BAIL MONEY DO YOU NEED AND HOW MANY MONTHS UNTIL YOU WANT TO HAVE THE BABY SHOWER AND WILL YOUR HEALTH INSURANCE COVER DETOX OR WON'T THEY???", let me just assure everyone that no, none of them are pregnant, all of them are home and not in jail, and they've all already finished their homework and are currently already in bed-- each one by themselves, too, just in case some of you (really, seriously?) were going to go there :-P  What happened this morning was in all actuality a very minor thing, with no foreseeable long-term damage done.  And I'm pretty certain that it's not an ominous harbinger of an oncoming storm of teenage rebellion either.  But it DID bring me to a place of questioning whether or not we've been making the right decisions all along the way and discovering that, honestly, I'm not as great a parent as I thought I was :-/

As parenting goes, I've always been a big fan of natural consequences-- sometimes parentally engineered "natural" consequences, but more-or-less natural, logical, reason-led ones all the same.  Toddler daughter refuses to pick up the pieces of her puzzle in a fit of "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO I'M ALMOST FOUR AND SO I'M ALMOST ALL GROWN UP AND YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF MEEEEEE!"; toddler daughter watches as said puzzle pieces are thrown into the trash can along with the rest of the garbage on the floor.  Son #1 decides to throw wet paper towels all over the school bathroom to see how far up the wall he can get them to stick and whether or not he can actually get them to defy gravity and cling to the ceiling; son #1 gets to spend an afternoon helping the custodian clean up said bathroom.  Son #2 decides to ignore the warning about coming home before curfew from his friend's house (which, incidentally, is only 100 yards down the street, so he theoretically could have just hollered to say he'd be late); son #2 finds himself grounded and disallowed to go by himself to a friend's house on his own for the rest of the week.  Basically, you make your choice, you evaluate the consequences, and then you decide if it's really worth making that same choice the next time... pretty simple, no?

We Christian parents especially like to put a hedge of protection around our kids by making sure they only watch the right shows, listen to the right music, read the right books, hang out with the right friends, etc.  We figure that if we only give them good role models to follow and we shield them from negative examples, then they won't know to choose the wrong and will generally make the right decisions all throughout their lives.  We bet that if we raise smart, moral, good church-going kids, we can help them to avoid so many of the pitfalls of secular life... and it's actually not all that bad of a parenting plan, to be honest.

The downside is that we often end up sheltering our kids' decisions so that they only have good options to choose from and gentle consequences to remind them of the unconditional love of God.  And that, as I look back on things tonight, has been the parenting road we ended up on; I'm hearby pleading "GUILTY" to trying their whole lives to protect them from the consequences of their own native stupidity :-(  As kids get older, though, we as parents need to give them more responsibility for their own actions and more freedom in taking those actions.  And sometimes, this means letting them step out of our sight and hoping, with fingers crossed and eyes closed, that they'll have learned enough to not choose the door labeled (in big red, dripping, invisible letters) "This Is the STUPID Option... STAY AWAY!"

It was hard this morning to drive away, knowing that, though I had given my child specific directions and a definite answer to their question of "So, Mom, can we...?", I was leaving them in a position of temptation with no way to enforce my will and preferences in the matter.  And I knew that, theoretically, my child might choose to disobey and do what they wanted to do, hoping that I wouldn't find out.  But because love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things, I trusted that my child, whom I love with all my heart, would resist temptation and do the right thing simply because I had asked them to.  I honestly thought that, because I said "No, you can't... Sorry...", it would be enough to ensure that they actually did what I wanted them to do.

Not only did my child do what I had specifically forbidden them to do, but I had to find out about it from a sibling who couldn't keep their mouth shut.  (Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's going to be some holy Christian smackdown going on as soon as they all head out the door in the morning...)

But you know what?  This is a part of letting go.  At least it was a little mistake, and not one that's going to shape future generations of our family.  At some level, I needed to realize that my kids are not just extensions of my own self-worth, reflections of my ability to parent like a boss.  Each one of my kids is their own independent human being, with their very own imperfect nature and their very own will, with just as much of a right to be wrong as I have.  They're going to go off and make their own choices, and sometimes those choices are going to be "Screw that, Mom, I can make a better decision on my own, thank you very much."  And when those decisions have been ripped out of my grasping, clawing hands, then sometimes the consequences are out of my hands as well, and I won't always be there to catch them when they fall broken to the ground.

This time, though, my husband and I have to-- get to-- assign the consequences.  And we have to walk the fine line between realizing that no lasting harm has been done and not wanting that harm to come knocking at our kids' doors in the future.  How do we assign a consequence for disobedience that's fair and proportionate to a (really pretty minor) offense but still teaches them that, hey, Mom and Dad aren't idiots and you really should listen to them sometimes?  How do we make sure that we don't overreact and punish them too harshly simply because our feelings are hurt and our trust broken?  Or how do we make sure that this consequence gives them something positive that they can hold on to for the rest of their lives and pass on to their own kids someday (who probably won't listen to or obey them any better than they do us right now...)

To make the situation even stickier, tonight I had to admit to myself and to my husband that I've been making parenting decisions all along that have helped to create the situation that tripped my child up this morning... How do I go now to my child and apologize for my own parenting fail and still expect them to respect my wisdom and authority as their mom?  I'm really, really hoping for and counting on the fact that the Bible says that God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble (1 Peter 5:5), because I'm really going to need His grace tomorrow as I share a big ol' slice of humble pie with my child :-/

Actually, strike what I said in my first sentence... maybe the hardest part of raising kids is the not knowing how badly you're screwing them up until it's too late to do anything about it :-/

(I seriously need to start cruising Facebook or hanging out with my daughter's genius friends again... This blog and my sanity are both looooong overdue for a funny post for a change... o.O  But for now, I think I'll just head to bed with this song running through my head; I'll probably end up playing it tomorrow for my kid and pretty much every time I screw up again from now until forever...)

I Do Not Want to Be Upgraded...

(OK, so here's the post I was intending to write on the 13th... If I'm very very clever I MIGHT actually get it published by the 14th... ^_^)

Kitty corner across the street from our apartment building, there is a church that offers a free breakfast on late-start Wednesdays for the students at the high school.  I've seen the sign, and I think it's a great idea, because even if they've already eaten at home, teenagers will inevitably be hungry again by the time they drive across town to get to school... and by offering breakfast on a late-start Wednesday, they're still leaving kids with enough time to grab a snack out of the vending machines on the way to first period as well :-)

Tuesday night, my daughter's boyfriend was apparently telling her that he wanted to stop by the church and get some food on their way to school the next morning.  Which makes sense except for the fact that... well, it's at a CHURCH.  My daughter's boyfriend is a brilliant guy and very sweet (especially to her), but he's not a Christian.  In fact, he dislikes church (for a lot of the same good reasons I hated churches and so-called Christians growing up), and pretty much refuses to go.  So, when my daughter told me (with a perplexed expression) about her boyfriend's plan for the next morning, I was both confused and intrigued.

Well, my daughter overslept, and so they didn't make it to the church breakfast thingy after all, but as he and I were waiting for her to finish getting ready, I asked him what he was thinking.  Which led to an interesting conversation about all manner of things religious, but what caught my imagination and hasn't let go of it all day was something that he told me his mom had told him about the church breakfast thing:

"'You do know that they're going to try and convert you, right?'"

Now, I don't know for sure if this church is one of those that feels the urge to convert everyone who walks through their doors, or if this is one of those seeker-friendly places that encourages every visitor to "find their own path to enlightenment."  But what his mom told him to watch out for (boy, it gets complicated trying to write without using names ^_^) just kind of resonated with me, because isn't that exactly what we as Christians do sometimes?  We get in the mindset that it's our job to "convert" people to Christianity, and that if we try to "share the gospel" with them and they DON'T get saved, then we've either not tried hard enough, or else we've done something wrong, or else they're just unrepentant sinners who are destined for hellfire and there's nothing we can do but simply wash our hands of them.

As I've mentioned before, I didn't grow up in a Christian home.  My mom told me as I was growing up that, because we have some Jewish blood in our grandmother's lineage, we were part of "God's Chosen People" and, therefore, we were automatically going to Heaven to be with God no matter what we did.  God simply gave us His commandments to tell us what to do and what not to do, and then He sent Jesus as a living example of how we were all supposed to live our lives.

This confused me.  On the one hand, God gave us a bunch of rules and filled in the gaps with some pretty scary consequences if we didn't obey (try reading through Exodus and Leviticus as a precocious 7 year old sometime... o.O).  On the other hand, it really doesn't matter whether we obey the rules or not, because if we're lucky enough to be Jewish, we're all going to go to Heaven anyway...?  By the time I was 10 or so, I figured that there really was no God, because either He was powerless ("Hah!  I broke all Your puny little commandments but You STILL have to let me in because I'm JEWWWWW-ISHHHHHHH!  Nyah, nyah, nyaaaaaahhhh!"), or else He must hate everybody and delight in torturing them ("You thought about stealing a pencil once because it was purple and sparkly, and since to think of breaking a commandment is the same as committing it in your heart, you are hereby sentenced to BUUUUUUUURRRRRNNNN... Thus saith the LORD!").  On top of that, I just didn't see how it would be fair to have an afterlife (i.e. Heaven) where EVERYBODY would get in no matter what they did or who they had a feud with on earth (I mean, my mom's parents were divorced... logically, then, how on earth could it be Heaven for either one of them if they were BOTH there?)  By the time I started junior high, I was one confused and, frankly, ticked off young lady-- all these years, and everyone who kept inviting me to church and Awanas and Neighborhood Bible Club had been LYING to me?

Because I used to get invited to a LOT of Christian events by well-meaning people at school and in my neighborhood.  And this is where the comment about being "converted" really hit home for me:  Every time I would get invited to a church or a Bible club, it was always the same bait-and-switch technique:

"Hey there, little girl... Do you like cookies?  Would you like to come over and have some cookies and milk after school.  We'll have a story, and some songs, and if you want, you can even play some musical instruments.  There will be other kids there... We'd LOVE it if you came!"

"Um... OK.  I like cookies, I guess..."

**arrives at house at right time, knocks on door timidly**

"Oooooooh, you CAME!  Hey everyone, look who's here with us today!  It's that one little girl from down the street!  You know, the one with the greasy hair and dirty clothes and holey shoes who OBVIOUSLY COMES FROM A PAGAN AND UNBELIEVING HOME..."  (OK, so no one ever actually said that last part out loud in front of me, but 1) it was always there in the pitying gazes of the adults in the room and in the snickers and haughty looks of the other kids, and 2) as an adult, I've heard those words come from the mouths of other church workers in reference to some of the kids we've had at VBS and Bible Clubs.)

"Um... Hi?"

"Oh, sweetie, we're so glad you're here!  Come on in and have a cookie..."

**comes in and stuffs face with cookie, completely oblivious to the quiet locking of the door behind her and the ominous music that really should be playing under a scene such as this...**

"Now, let's see... Where were we...?  Oh, yesssss... DO YOU KNOW FOR SURE IF YOU DIED TODAY THAT YOU WOULD GO TO HEAVEN???  WOULD YOU RATHER GO TO HELL???  OH NO, YOU WOULDN'T, WOULD YOU???  IF YOU ASK JESUS TO COME IN AND LIVE IN YOUR HEART RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW, TODAY, THEN YOU WILL GO TO HEAVEN TO BE WITH GOD FOREVER AND NOT ONLY THAT, BUT YOU WILL NEVER BE SAD OR LONELY AGAIN BECAUSE YOU WILL BE FILLED WITH THE HOLY GHOST AND JESUS PROMISES HE WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU OR FORSAKE YOU AND SO YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE A FRIEND IN JESUS WHO WILL LIVE IN YOUR HEART FOREVER IF YOU JUST SAY THIS SIMPLE PRAYER WITH ME... Wouldn't you like that, little girl (whose name I can't remember right now)?  Wouldn't you like to go to Heaven and be with Jesus and God and be in-right out-right upright downright happy all the time?"

Um... WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY TO THAT WHEN I'M SITTING THERE WITH MY MOUTH FULL OF COOKIE AND A LOCKED DOOR BETWEEN ME AND THE OUTSIDE WORLD???

So, of course, I do what we all would do... I nod my head and, after swallowing the wad of cookie-mush that's now lodged in my throat, I dutifully echo whatever words of whatever prayer the nice Bible teacher wants me to say (most of which makes little to no sense whatsoever... but hey, now I've got a bearded dude in a white robe living in my left ventricle and some creepy ghosty-thing living in my right, and all of my synapses have been washed away with a whole lotta sheep's blood so as soon as I step outside, nothing bad will be able to touch me because I've got a nice leafy hedge to protect me, so it's all good, right?)  And then everybody sings a happy song, and everyone congratulates me on becoming a Christian-- while making sure not to touch me or get too close because, hey, I'm still wearing the same dirty clothes and holey shoes and greasy hair that I came in with.  And then they show me to the door and off I go, waltzing happily right back into the same messy world that I woke up in that morning.  And the next day, life is just as miserable as it was before I "asked Jesus into my heart" and "became a believer", and I'm left going, "Um... What's going on?  Where's my fabulous new life and all the riches of being a child of God?"

So the next week, I go back and start asking questions.  And what I'm told is that, in order to KEEP the blessings of God, I have to start making changes in my life.  I need to stop watching bad TV shows.  I need to stop listening to the devil's music.  I need to start dressing like a good Christian and not like the world, and most of all, I need to stop cussing, start going to church every Sunday, and get to work sharing the good news of Jesus with all of my friends and/or invite them to Bible Club too.  Never mind that 1) I don't have any control over the TV set or what we watch on it, 2) All of the "Christian" kids' music out there is boring and repetitive and seems to be written by aliens from the planet HappyHappy, 3) I have no money to go out and buy the clothes that all the "Christian" kids at school are wearing, 4) my mom works Sundays and so I have no way to get to church... besides, that, we're JEWISH, if you remember, and 5) at this time, I had no friends at school to share the "good news" with, much less any who would willingly go anywhere after school with me.

"So," I would finally ask, "What you're telling me is that God loves me, but now He wants to change everything about me?"

"Oh, yes... He loves you right where you're at, but He loves you too much to leave you that way."  (Worst mis-use of the truth of God EVER, right there, IMHO... :-/ )

"So... Why would God want me to be His kid if He doesn't even LIKE me?"

"Oh, sweetie... Um... Uh... Well, of COURSE God LOVES you...!"

"But does He LIKE me?"

"Well..."

"Do YOU even LIKE me?"  (I was a pretty messed up kid with a pretty big reputation for getting into arguments and cussing people out, even the teachers.  I was a hard person to like... I didn't even like me, so I totally understood why nobody else did either...)

"Well... Of COURSE we like you..."

"Really?  What's my name, then?"

"Your what?"

"My name.  Do you even remember my name?"

They usually didn't.  I usually didn't go back.

I got older and became your stereotypical Goth teenager; I hated everything, made everyone miserable, did everything I could to tick everyone off just to see what would happen.  Sophomore year, I tried to flunk out of Spanish class after scoring 2nd in state on the National Spanish Exam and then threatened to kill myself... just to see which one would get the bigger rise out of my mom.  Junior year, I wrote an essay about terrorizing the school counselor with tales of dismemberment and nearly got suspended.  Senior year, I tried to set up a "satanic ritual" at the lunch table using black plastic garbage bags, some table sugar, and a glow-in-the-dark skull candle; I also nearly got arrested for threatening a police officer with a knife because I was mouthing off to him while chopping up potatoes for dinner (now, WHY there was a police officer in my house while I was making dinner, that's a WHOLE other story altogether...)

And of course, for every crazy thing I did to try and prove that I really was a bad seed (one of the terms a VBS leader had used to describe me when I was 7 and throwing a mega-tantrum in her church), there was at least one well-meaning soul at my high school each year trying to convert me.  Why they wanted to convert me, I had no idea...  These people certainly didn't LIKE me, and they NEVER bothered to actually get to KNOW me before trying to "fix" me.  Maybe it was the idea that because I was so bad, I would make a more beautiful trophy on their spiritual wall, perhaps?  I don't know.  All I know was that it was always the same rigamarole, over and over again...

"Do you know for sure if you died today that you would go to Heaven?"
"I don't believe in your 'Heaven'."
"Oh, well then... I guess that means you're going to Hell, then."
"I don't believe in your 'Hell', either."
"Oh... Well, don't you believe in God?"
"Nope."
"But... Certainly you MUST believe in SOMETHING???"
"Nope... Not really.  Life sucks and then we die."
"But... but... Jesus, and... God, and the Holy Spirit, and... FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON THAT WHOSOEVER BELIEVETH IN HIM SHALL NOT PERISH BUT SHALL HAVE EVERLASTING LIFE!  If you pray and ask Jesus into your heart then..."
"Been there, done that.  Didn't work."
"Oh.  Well, then, I guess you're going to hell, then.  Have a nice life anyway!"  And then they would scurry away, off to find one of their fellow "believers" to commiserate with about how the world was going to hell in a handbasket and how "that one girl" with the skull candle and all the chains was boldly leading the way.

And if I could have told them one thing, it would have been this: If your God is so small that He can't handle one scared, confused little girl wrapping herself in chains to defend herself, then your God is not one that I would want to serve anyway.

For those of you who still don't get why a non-Christian would ever turn down the chance to be "led to the Lord" in such a way, let me share with you what I've found to be the best pop-culture analogy to hit-and-run evangelism EVER...

(If the video above won't play, the entire Doctor Who episode I'm referencing is Series 2, Episode 5, "Rise of the Cybermen", and is available on Netflix and elsewhere; the specific scene takes place at about 37 minutes or so into the episode.)

Now, I am not trying to condemn Christian evangelism.  I'm not criticizing Christian missions in general, and I'm not saying that Christians should just give up and leave everyone else alone.  I'm sure that there are some of you reading this who think I'm attacking you, because you recognize some of the things I've quoted as coming from your own flyers and handouts.  My aim is not to attack anybody personally.

My aim is to make a point.

Non-Christians do not want to be converted. We do not wish to be "upgraded" against our wills.

We want to be loved.  We want to be respected.  We want to be treated as human beings, with names and stories, minds and souls.

Because here's the thing: If God actually is who you say He is, then He is big enough to handle all of the scared little kids out there who lash out at a cold and punishing world.  If your God is real, then He chose to create each and every person on this earth... every person who ever lived, who lives now, and who ever will live.  Each unique combination of sperm and egg, with its specific genetic code and one-of-a-kind life story... Your God knows each one, He chose each one, He placed each on in his or her specific time, place, and family... and He knows each and every one of the struggles that they will go through in their life before even one of their days comes to pass (Psalm 139).  If you're reading this and you're not a Christian, I'm not saying this to convince you to become one.  That's not my job.  I'm saying this because what I have seen and what I have lived through has convinced me that it is true.

All those years, all those people who only wanted to convert me so that they could add another tally mark to their weekly list of souls, all those people who gave up on me and told me I was going to go to hell...

They were wrong.

Because when I was 20, I encountered a God who actually knows me and loves me... and not only that, He actually likes me too.  I didn't become a Christian because somebody bullied me into it or forced me to convert against my will; I am a Christian today because somebody took the time to get to know me, to see me as a human being with value and a purpose, and to love me like God loved me all along.  I was able to contemplate God as a real possibility only after someone actually did for me what they said God already had been doing all along-- looking out for me, caring what happened to me, liking me for who I was, and loving me more than I loved myself.  I've already told bits and pieces of my story elsewhere on this blog (here and here and here and here), so I'm not going to make this post any longer by retelling you all exactly how I became a Christian and why.  But I do want to finish with some advice from someone with a foot in both camps:

To the Christians out there reading this:  Stop trying to upgrade every "unbeliever" you meet in your own image.  Start actually seeing us as people first instead of candidates for conversion or potential tally marks on your spiritual scorecard.  Because honestly, this is what your hit and run, win-'em-at-the-door evangelism style looks like to us.  If you're wondering why people don't want to hear your gospel, take a good look at your approach...  Do you actually like the people you're trying to save?  Would you be happy to sit next to them in church just as they are?  If they never decide to become Christians, would you still consider them your friends?  Do you know their names, their kids' names, their brothers' and sisters' names?  Do you know what makes them laugh, what makes them cry?  What their hopes for the future are and what keeps them awake at night?  If not, then you don't love them... and they will know it.  And why should we believe that your God (who supposedly knows all about us) loves us if you yourself (who don't know us from Adam) can't love us?  Finally, don't give up on us... You can't possibly know what's going to happen in 2 years, in 5 years, in 20 years, or on our deathbeds; for all you know, we may someday change our minds and decide that maybe there IS a God out there after all.  Or we may not.  God calls you to love your neighbor as yourself, not predict his or her future and bestow your affections accordingly.

To the non-Christians out there reading this:  Please don't judge all Christians by the actions of some.  Not every Christian you meet is out to grind you up and turn you into a Cyber-Believer.  You don't like it when we judge and condemn you without actually knowing anything about you; please don't do that to us either.  Be honest with us about what you do believe (because everybody believes in something); be willing to share your thoughts and listen to ours in return.  Don't be as big a snot as I was, because looking back, I can now see that some of the people I thought only wanted to convert me actually did care and actually were trying to help... and all I did was brush them off and make myself even more miserable.

OK, so now that I've probably managed to tick people off on BOTH sides of the fence... Any thoughts to share?

My Top 9 Obstacles to Writing and/or Finishing a Blog Post

OK, so I originally sat down to write a post inspired by a conversation I had this morning with my daughter's boyfriend, but instead... Here are the Top 9 Things That Always Seem to Get in the Way of Me Writing the Blog Posts I INTEND to Write... 

9. Being sick... again...   Yep, I'm wrapping up Day #4 of my annual holiday season head/chest cold nastiness.  It hurts to breathe, because my lungs itch and I feel like I need to cough.  But it hurts to cough, so I try not to, especially since when I'm coughing, I'm not breathing, and that's kind of a negative in my book.  And then there's the added bonus of the headache, fever, chills, and nasal nastiness to keep me company...  And if I'm really, really, REALLY lucky, one or more of my kids will catch it and then we can spend the long rainy days together watching the Princess Bride and whining about the taste of NyQuil.  And thus good times shall be had by all... o.O   The bug has struck early this year, though... so maybe I'll actually be healthy when it comes time for the holidays, for a change :-)  I can always hope, right?

8. Because the sight of Mom typing automatically means "Hey, she's not busy... Ask her anything!!!"  Why is it that, whenever I sit down to type, that's always the moment when everybody needs my undivided attention, and all of it RIGHT NOW?  "Honey, where would we have squirt guns?" "Mom, guess what?  I finally got Steve to play Pokemon Indigo on his phone at lunch today!" "Hey, Mom, the APUSH teacher says I can watch the movie "Glory" for extra credit... And has Madame posted the grades for the last French quiz online yet?" "Hey, Mom, wanna hear a joke I heard at school today?"  "Honey, are you SURE we don't still have all those empty coffee cans around here someplace?  I was keeping them to use for weeble-walkers, but now I need them for the Cub Scout meeting tonight..." "Hey, Mom... What are we having for dinner?"  "Honey... I need to boil an egg.  Do you have anything you might need hardboiled eggs for?  Because it seems silly to just boil one egg..."  "So, Mom... When are you going to fill out my permission slip for the Boy Scout camping trip this weekend?"  "Hey, Honey... How do I know if this egg from the fridge is hard-boiled or not?  Because isn't it supposed to be kind of sloshy if it's not hard boiled?  And I can't get this one to slosh..."  Seriously... and all of these are just from tonight.  And did I mention I've been sick for 4 days, and typing is about the only thing I can do without getting completely wiped out?  I think I might just lose my mind...

7. And then there's that stupid stinking timer...  We have a timer to help me keep track of dinner, and it never fails...  I'll set the timer, thinking I've got however many minutes to write (or do whatever it is I think I need to be doing right then), sit down, and juuuuuusst as I get really into the task...

BEEE DE DE DEEEEP, BEEE DE DE DEEEEP, BEEE DE DE DEEEP, BEEE DE DE DEEEP...

My kids, bless their souls, tried to help me like our timer better by pointing out that it's got the same rhythm as the sound that loops in the Master's head in "The Sound of Drums"...

... but somehow, it just isn't all that reassuring o.O  (Though it DOES lend weight to my theory that ANYTHING can be turned into a Doctor Who reference... :-D )

There are also timers on the microwave, washer, and dryer, and I swear, nothing disrupts your train of thought like a sudden BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP when you're least expecting it.  Forget Britney Spears... I'm thinking that, if they really want to mentally cripple pirates in Somalia, they really just need to borrow my washer and dryer for a week ^_^

6. The care and feeding of miniature humans... What do you mean, "You're hungry???  I just fed you yesterday..."  When my youngest was a toddler, he would come out of his room every morning, looking adorable in his footie pajamas and with his hobbit-mop of red curls springing out all over the place, and he would track down me or my husband each day with the same exact pronouncement: "Mo-om (or Da-ad)... I'm hungry AGAIN...!"  To which, of course, there can only be one reasonable response: "What do you mean?  We just fed you yesterday...!"  Lest anyone think that we were mean parents, though, we did always walk with him into the kitchen and help him get his breakfast, after which he was generally content to go and play until time for snack... or, in hobbit-speak, second breakfast.  And elevensies... and lunch... and second lunch... and so on.  We don't just call him the Hobbit for no reason, you know... ^_^

Even now, though, at 10 years old, that kid STILL keeps insisting that I feed him... every single day, without fail.  And not only that, but he's got his brother and sister trained to expect the SAME THING too, now!  I mean, come on, people... What are you going to do when you go off to college and have to fend for yourselves?  Oh, wait... that's what cafeteria food is for... never mind, then ^_^

Seriously though (just in case you didn't pick up on the invisible sarcasm font of that previous paragraph ;-) )...  I have this weird aversion to cooking meals.  Every day, I dread having to make dinner... but every day, I feel like it's my obligation as a mom to provide sustenance for my family.  And for some reason, the urge to write always seems to strike me at right about 4:30 or 5-ish in the afternoon...

"Oh, hey, I've got this FABULOUS brainstorm of an idea for my next blog post!  I'd better type it out before I forget..." **typety type, clickity-click, typety type type**  "Wait, what...?  You have somewhere to be at 7 and you need dinner first?  Aw, maaaaaannnnn... OK, guess I'll come back to this later...  It's Hamburger Helper time again!"  (I have a serious love-hate relationship with Hamburger Helper...  it's actually kind of scary o.O )

In their defense, though (before anyone starts commenting that I should pass along the mealtime chore to my kids for their sake and mine...), my kids ARE actually learning how to cook for themselves... even though it sometimes results in Facebook posts like the following:

3/5 of my family members proved today that they apparently don't know how to cook macaroni properly... Which led to this conversation:

Me: "Great... Y'all better hope nothing ever happens to me, 'cause if I die, you're all gonna starve..."
Middle Child: "I know how to make noodles..."
Eldest Child: "OK, so when Mom dies, you're in charge of making the noodles for everyone, then."
Me: "Um... Because noodles are amazing...?"

5. My inability to concentrate whenever there's anything else going on in the room...  I'm just going to chalk this one up to the fact that, with autism, there's no such thing as tuning the world out and focusing on my... oh, hey, was that a squirrel or just the neighbor's cat?  And why is that door open AGAIN?  And can't you people see that there's a RIGHT way to stack the dirty dishes on the counter and a WRONG way to do it?  And that sound the fan is making... Something's wrong with it...  And how can I be expected to concentrate when the neighbors are watching WWE, anyway?

AUTISM: Any Useless Tangent Is Something to Me...

And there goes that timer... again... Here come the drums, here come the drums...?  o.O
 
4. Because there's nothing so fascinating in the world as what's on Mom's computer screen...  One of my pet peeves has always been people reading over my shoulder.  First off, it's an invasion of my personal bubble, which I'm very attached to and without which I'd go off the deep end.  Second, it feels like someone's snuck up behind me, pried open my head, and is going through my brain matter like a five year old with an Operation game... "Hey there... What 'cha reading?  Is it good?  How did you find THAT article?  What do you think about the subject?  What's that link there go to?"  This is even MORE nerve-wracking when it's not just a Facebook post or a news article that I'm looking over, but my own unfinished blog-post-to-be... the very core of what I'm thinking and feeling at that moment, naked and exposed to the open air.

Look, people... It takes me a while to synthesize what I'm reading and formulate an opinion.  It also takes me a while to find the right words to express what I'm thinking about any given topic, because I want to make sure that what goes out on the blogosphere is an accurate reflection of my actual thoughts and opinions, and not some emotionally-charged hormono-rant that I'm going to regret in the morning.  When that process of choosing words, looking them over, reconsidering, and revising is interrupted, I shut down... my brain puts everything on hold, and all I can think to do is to slam the computer shut to protect myself.  And then I never seem to be able to pick up my thoughts again... and yet another post goes into the "Draft" pile...

3. The DAemon Twins: Discouragement and Apathy...  I covered this topic in my last blog post...  Basically, it's that notion I get that I have nothing worth saying and no energy to bother saying it with.  I let these two get in my way far more often than I should... But at least by being honest and transparent about it, I can climb back on that keyboard and ride back into the battle... OK, now THAT analogy didn't work and just kept on going anyway... o.O

2. How do I tell an honest story without offending anyone or hurting their feelings?  First and foremost, I want to be honest and transparent in all I say, do, and write... For me, it's a matter of integrity.  But sometimes, life is messy, and sometimes, people are ugly.  And sometimes, being honest means exposing that ugliness and letting people see the consequences of their bad decisions.  That's a really difficult thing for me, though, because honestly, I want everyone to like me and to be happy about everything I write.  I don't like ruffling feathers or putting people on the spot publicly...  To quote one of my favorite Bible verses (I use it as my email signature as a constant reminder), as far as it depends on me, I want to live at peace with everyone (Romans 12:18)  There's also the verses about how love covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8, Proverbs 10:12 and 17:9); if I love someone, the last thing I want to do is publicly humiliate them or put them in a spotlight for others to mock or condemn.  So, for now, there are a LOT of things I would love to write about... but for the sake of love and for the purpose of keeping the peace, I won't.  Some of you who may know me well enough to know my story may wonder why I never mention some things on my blog, even though they're HUGE right now in my life; this is my reason why.

And the Number One Obstacle to Me Writing What I MEAN to Write...

1. My own high expectations...  When I was in college, I remember reading an article in which the author asked the question: Why isn't it enough anymore for us to be just good at something?  Why must we always be the best or else feel that we've failed?  It's like our culture has told us that, if we're not the best, we're worthless.  If our schools aren't #1 in the world, then we're failing.  If I didn't get the highest grade in the class, then I'm not trying hard enough.  When we think like this, we're setting ourselves up for disaster, because no matter how hard we work or how much effort we put into something, chances are there is always going to be someone somewhere in the world who can top us.  Any record we set will someday be toppled; any achievement we make will someday be matched.  So... Why aim for a target that can never be met?

When I'm faced with this realization, I tend to get discouraged and give up (hey, look, it's those DAemon twins again...).  And then I end up fulfilling the prophecy of not being good enough, because by not writing ANYTHING, I'm definitely not writing the BEST of anything, or even anything remotely near GOOD... it's just a big pile of silence and frustration.  And if God has called me to write and to give encouragement to others, then by writing nothing, I'm basically sitting in the corner sulking and refusing to obey.  And that is most definitely NOT something I want to have to fess up to...

So...

If I can't sulk and get away with it by hiding (because that wouldn't be transparent), and I can't rationalize and talk my way out of being disobedient (because that wouldn't be honest), then the only option left to me is to obey, to go forward and write, whether I think the result is worth the effort or not.  And maybe I'll learn to be OK with just doing my best and letting God do what He wants with it.  I'm such a perfectionist; I expect soooo much more out of myself than anyone else around me does.  I want every post to be brilliant, every word perfectly chosen, every conclusion the final word on the subject, and every "Aha!" moment an illumination of truth in this dark world.  And when it isn't, I wonder why I should even bother.  But then I remember that I'm not the light of the world-- Jesus is.  I'm not perfect-- but Jesus is.  I don't get to have the final word on anything-- God does.  And I don't have to be brilliant-- it's enough for me to be me and to be content with that :-)



So... To all my writer friends out there (you know who you are, and even if you didn't, you do now, because, yes, I'm talking to YOU :-P )... What are the things that keep YOU from writing?  Am I the only one who deals with this crazy stuff?  What do you do to stay motivated to write?