I pity the fool

I've really been on a reminiscing kick lately. I'm not sure if it started because I was watching a little too much "I love the 80's/90's" (I think I have a crush on Michael Ian Black), because Grace and I played Super Mario Bros. on her Nintendo the other night for about an hour, or because I bumped into one of my closest high school friends at Costco just now...

But there's something fun about looking back. I spent the last hour looking through just about every photo I have. A few things I've realized: 1) dang, I was a whole lot skinnier than I ever felt like I was. (still trying to figure out why it was cool to wear huge flannels and my dad's sweatshirt... everything was so oversized...) and 2) dang, my hair was bad. Awesomely bad. Bad enough that it borders on the miraculous that I ever had a boyfriend. How did I not know? (Will I look back on pics now and say the same thing? Scary). I had great company though... check out your old pics!! 3) Nothing was as bad as it seemed at the time. 4) My friends were crazy (not everything changes). 5) I didn't know ANYTHING.

Kevin and I got to talking the other day, trying to remember our favorite things growing up. Thankfully our memories have been somewhat blocked... but of what we can remember, here's the list: (VH1 would be proud)...

TV
1. Saved by the Bell (that Zach Morris was SO hot!)
2. the A-team
3. the Disney afternoon (Ducktales (woo-ooo), Chip & Dale's, Tale-Spin, etc.)
4. MacGyver (best mullet ever)
5. Full House (I'm sorry.)
6. Mr. Rogers
7. Flintstones
8. The Muppets (gonzo was my favorite)

movies
1. Star Wars, esp. (episodes 4 & 6)
2. Flight of the Navigator
3. The Chipmunk Adventure (remember Alvin Simon Theodore & the hot air balloons?)
4. Old Yeller (my first traumatic movie watching experience)
5. a Three Stooges Marathon on VHS
6. Little Mermaid (look at this stuff... isn't it neat...)
7. The Karate Kid (thanks Mom & dad for buying the boy KK pajamas... responsible for my getting beat up regularly as a kid)
8. Indiana Jones & the last Crusade (the 'rents took me thinking I'd be too little to take any of it in... til the scene where the bad guy drinks from the wrong grail and his face melts off... the whole theatre is in silent shock except there's this little girl in pigtails pointing and laughing hysterically in the seventh row back).

Feel free to add to my list if you can think of anything...

being and doing

It's pretty attractive these days to keep a busy schedule. In the church, it's pretty much a badge of honor. We don't really mean for it to be, but it is. It's real subtle, but it looks something like this: Look at how hard she's serving. What a heart for God that guy has! You start out with a sincere desire to serve God and to touch people's lives, so you work hard. The harder you work, the more ministries you find yourself a part of, the more badges you earn. The more badges you earn, the more you're respected and admired. The more you're respected and admired, the more you're motivated to keep busy. And on the cycle goes. You can never do too much of a good thing, right?

Til one day, you look in the mirror, and you're wondering who on earth you're looking at. You're burned out, you're tired, you're ready to quit. But if you were to quit being ________ (fill in your own blank)... who would you be?

Right now I am a legal secretary-pastoral intern-worship leader-youth mentor-communications director. Look at my badges... look at who I am...

But are my badges, are my job descriptions and titles really who I am? (For that matter, is what I type here really who I am?) If I were to quit all of those things, would I still be able to recognize myself in the mirror?

Sometimes, I'm a little unsure of what that answer would be. It's so easy to find myself solely in my doing... to see myself in the image people reflect back to me as a result of what I do. That scares me. For two reasons: 1) I can get pretty impressed with myself sometimes. Look at how hard I work, look at what a servant I am, look at how much I love God... I start enjoying the thank-you-for-using-your-gifts and boy-that-really-blessed-me, etc., a little too much. I try hard to have a right heart, but sometimes, I start seeing my only value as what I can produce. Either that, or I get really disgusted with myself. I fell short, I messed up, I couldn't do enough. Basing my self-evaluation on my activity and on others' responses always leaves me with a skewed view, one way or the other. 2) I run the risk of being so busy "doing ministry" that I cease ministering. I'm running from here to there, doing this or that, too busy to really be available for unscheduled kinds of ministry. (They're called, in common language, "interruptions"). I miss making time to stop and listen and look into the eyes of a friend, rather than a quick hug and away-I-go. I miss the "I really need to talk" tone in one of my girls' voices because I have to go help with tearing down sound. As if speakers and monitors couldn't wait!

I run the risk of being the priest or the Levite who are so consumed with the activities they're admired for, they ignore and pass by their bloodied and battered neighbor, lying desperate in the street.

When I got hurt nearly two years ago, I fought so hard to continue all the activities I had done before. I had myself convinced that it was because I loved people and serving God, and while that was surely a part of it, I think it was also that I was scared to give up my honor badges. If I wasn't Stacey, Super-Hero-Christian... who was I? Could people love me if I didn't produce anything? Could I love myself? Could God? I learned that the answer was yes... yes, grace does exist, and it not only exists in God, but it also exists in the hearts of his people. I am still me, even when I do nothing very impressive.

Let me be clear - being means precious little if doing does not express it (James is a bit blunt on this)... but for us busy types, it's important to remember what comes first, and what truly makes us who we are. We are who we are because of the work of Christ in our lives. That's it. We can't add to what God has already done. We can only express it.

Thomas Merton offers some great thoughts on this:

"... we must learn to be detached from the results of our own activity. We must withdraw ourselves, to some extent, from circumstances that are beyond our control and be content with the good will and the work that are to be the quiet expression of our inner life. We must be content to live without watching ourselves live, to work without expecting an immediate reward, to love without an instantaneous satisfaction, and to exist without any special recognition."

"We are warmed by fire, not by the smoke of the fire. We are carried over the sea by a ship, not by the wake of a ship. So too, what we are is to be sought in the invisible depths of our own being, not in our outward reflection of our own acts."

Take off your badges for a second and look into the mirror. Can you still see yourself? God still does. In case you've forgotten, He's as crazy about you as ever. Just as much in your dumb regretted moments and motives as He is when you shine. I needed that reminder this week. And if you did too, be at peace.

blame idaho

plane got delayed an hour in boise (for a grand total of 3 hours in Boise Airport)...
happy to be home safe...
think this week's drama aged me an extra year...
headed to bed.

the joys (and pains) of family

Well, I finally have a quiet moment and there's no worry someone will try to be calling on the phone line, so here I am.

Long day, but I think now that the service is over we can all relax a little. The service was a good. Grandpa, his love for his family and his strong faith in God were honored today. I learned new things and have a new respect for a man that these last few years had me struggling to understand. He was a good man. And a feisty stubborn one, but that's a trait that's been passed on to most of us, so we can't complain.

Most importantly, I got to say goodbye. (By the way, my nervousness about the open-casket style of funeral was unfounded. He looked good and spiffed up in his suit and so peaceful... it was a great memory for me to take with me, rather than memories of how sick he's been the last few years. My nervousness about singing was a bit founded... I struggled through the first verse, but sang it strong the second time through, thank God for repeats).

It's been awesome being with my cousins this past few days, especially the ones I grew up with when I lived down here. Whenever I'm visiting, it's like I have an older brother (David, 30 last week) who torments me (sneaking up on me, tickling my feet, smacking me for no reason, and teasing me mercilessly) and two little sisters who want to be just like me. I don't have any cousins close to home, so when we're together, we really have a good time. We're still laughing at Beavis and Butthead impressions that Kevin and David had me busting up over three years ago. It's just nice to fit. To have a broader circle of people who, when they walk out the door, call out a "love you," as they're leaving. When I look at all these different pieces of my family, I see pieces of myself in them... not just resemblance-wise, but in personality, expressions, laughter, all of it. It really is home.

What's been really bad is that I've picked the Southern back up into my accent. It only takes a day for me, and I'm saying things like "Let me grab that for ya right quick," and "Howdy, whatcha know?" I felt even more at home when Dave and I busted out some lemon juice, mixed it with salt, and sipped it down. (Normally, i like eating a real lemon, but you make due with what you've got). When you're with family, the weird becomes normal.

It's been so meaningful just to have everyone be there for each other. (There are a few, like in any family, that have been pains in the #58, but for the most part everyone has really pulled together.) These are the situations where you realize just how good you have it, to be part of a family like this. It's going to be hard to come home so quickly. Somehow, I'm looking forward to my own bed rather than this couch...
********************************
In other news, due to recent events, I think I'm going to enter into a new phase of my life soon. Relationship? Nah. Well, sort of.

When I return home, househunting begins. Yes, I am sick of throwing away money on rent and am, barring some major craziness, going to start the process of buying my very first house. I've been thinking about it for a while, hating burning money on rent, but never thought it was a possibility for a young unmarried type. However, my aunt, a real estate lender, pre-qualified me tonight (apparently I'm not as hopeless as I thought) and we talked about my options. It sounds crazy, but I'll actually be paying less than I do in rent, for more space. And a backyard. And, eventually, once I'm settled, a big ol' dog. (YES!) So we'll see what happens. This is pretty exciting. The thought of moving for the 13th time in six years is a bit daunting (and this will finally involve the long-awaited move of my piano from the folks house to mine), but the thought of being settled for a while and painting and decorating is awful nice too. Kevin is excited too... he'll rent from me. All the benefits of a house without him being tied down. No worries for him.

Anyhow, that's my day. Peace out boy scout. (I'm a bit tired, can you tell??)

Countdown to BoiseBash: T minus two days...

God is in the little things... and the little ones

After trying to be a tough cookie all week, the moment I'd been dreading came. I feel like a mess. It hit me at work (how stupid is that?). Nothing prompted it other than a lack of distraction from the fact that the funeral is in two days... but at about 230 today I was sure I was going to be sick. I didn't cry, but I for sure couldn't focus on all the legalese on my screen. My boss, God love him, took one look at me & knew, and kindly let me off early.

I babysat tonight, as I always do Wednesday nights, and was so not wanting to be there. But God used these precious little kids to soothe my hurting heart. Aside from the cute little kid giggling that always puts me in a better mood (you know, where they laugh on the air's way out AND on the way in... huge high pitched gasps)... they were abnormally sweet tonight. Wolfie told me he had "weally, weally" missed me last week, and threw his little 4 year old self at me in a full run. Later asked if we could snuggle during the movie (are kids like dogs? can they sense these things?) As I was putting Mena (2) to bed, I held her for a while, more cause I needed it than she did -- she cuddled her little tow head on my shoulder and just hugged me with her sticky little hands. I have no idea who was holding who... I had to fight the tears. God knew tonight was exactly what I needed. Simple love.

Kevo and I are nervous about the open casket funeral... we've only been to memorials, and not many of those. He's a pallbearer, and I'm singing. I've done weddings, and those are pressure, but this... I'm desperately praying I'll be able to keep it together. When we worked on a worship project up north, my worship pastor Matt said the song I wrote would really minister at funerals. Didn't ever think I'd be singing it for something of my own. It's going to be hard, but what am I going to do, say no?

Anyway, if God reminds you, please say a quick prayer for my family. It's kind of a war zone down there right now... emotions running high, parts of the family not helping out and not being very kind... it's just hard, and I know we need God's peace to come in and be there. I'll be glad when it's all over.

I know this is a downer post, and I'm sorry if it's whiny, I'm just not in the mood to fake it at the moment. Soon I'll be back to my goofy self, and I'll write a post about my latest frustration: the mystery cat pee that has somehow made its appearance in our apartment. (We don't have a cat... I hate them).

I'm hoping to have online access in Cali, but if I don't, have a good weekend and I'll catch up when I get home. From BOISE. With excellent airport stories, for sure. Blessings.

you restore my soul/ and you light my way/ a path of righteousness, for your name's sake
even though I walk/ through the valley of the shadow/ I am not afraid...
lead me, beside the still waters/ lead me, in the ways that please your heart/
I surrender my will/ I will wait and be still/ I will rest in you and be at peace...

THE GOSPEL OF SUCCESS... try Jesus Christ for 90 days... satisfaction guaranteed or your money back...

YESTERDAY FOUND ME, of all places, in Seattle at a motivational conference. My boss, slightly cynical, but curious, offered to take our law office. Realizing that a long day in Seattle still meant a ferry ride and a day in the city away from my desk, I agreed to go. I’m still trying to figure out if what I heard was good for me, or a load of word #57. I’m thinking that most of it fell in the latter category.

I did hear some speakers that I enjoyed (Goldie Hawn, Zig Ziglar)... my favorite was Rudy Giuliani speaking on leadership. He’ll be in the history books, and I sat a few hundred feet from him. Was a cool experience, and he was a great speaker. I’d vote for him.

The rest were a conglomeration of slick salespeople and their wives, annoying 40-year-old valley girls in big hair and highlighter-hued sequined power suits. I heard a session on the secrets to overnight investment success (the last-revealed secret being that you take a class for the low low cost of $1,000)... a session on spiritual success, complete with a full gospel presentation and the sinners’ prayer... and then a session on real estate investing (another class & book & materials, worth $5,000, but available ALL today, for our special conference attendees, for an investment of $99). The main message: YOU ARE WORTH IT! YOU CAN BE SUCCESSFUL AND MAKE MILLIONS OF DOLLARS, EASY! (if only you’ll try real hard to have a winning attitude... oh, and buy my book). Success = strong family relationships + gobs and gobs of $$$. And being real nice while you’re at it.

In the course of three hours, we were sold investment advice, Jesus, and a real estate class.

I didn’t leave motivated. I left worried about retirement and how I’m going to put my still-fictional children through college. And my choice of vocation seemed quite foolish. Writing? Ridiculous. For a church? Worse. Where’s the security in that?

I knew walking into the Key Arena to take everything with a grain of salt. I was expecting to get a worldly view of success, and was quite surprised when the first speaker talked about the importance of character and integrity and not being relatively honest & faithful, but being completely honest and faithful. I was also impressed with him crediting his faith in God for his successful life, despite his trials. OK so far.

But by the time we reached the "spirituality" session after lunch, I was sick to my stomach. I think I would have rather heard a completely worldly version. I was so saddened to realize what I was hearing was prosperity teaching. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me... including scratching and pecking my way to the top of the corporate ladder. With God, all things are possible... like two summer homes, a boat, and a Lexus SUV... God wants you to be successful, doesn’t He? It bothered me to hear a contortion of the gospel of grace into the gospel of success. If you just try hard enough... you’ll get what’s coming to you. And if you don’t, well, you know who to blame.

[I feel it necessary to say here that I have nothing against Christians who have been blessed with wealth, who use their resources to serve others, rather than serving their money. They’re awesome people whose God-given talents and dedication have taken them far.]

I believe with all my heart that the only way to have a successful life is to live for Christ. But my definition of success is quite a bit different. (Look at Jesus’ life. He wasn’t exactly an example of how to climb to the top. In fact, the three temptations he faced in the desert were temptations toward exactly the kind of success these people were talking about). Where were the verses that paint an honest picture of Christ’s promises: In this world, you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome... The world will hate you because it hated Me first... I will never leave you, nor forsake you...?

Jesus said–whoever wants to follow me has to deny himself, pick up his cross and follow me... My kingdom is not of this world...

Bonhoeffer said– when Jesus calls a man, he bids him come and die.

Beuchner speaks of the two battles we fight – the battle for recognition, for our place in the sun; and the battle to be at peace in our own skins and with God. Of the first battle, he says: "What is the armor to wear in such a war? Not, certainly, the whole armor of God here, but, rather, the whole armor of man, because this is a man’s war against other men. In such a war, perhaps, you wear something like this. Gird your loins with wisdom, the sad wisdom of the world which knows that dog eats dog, that the gods help those who help themselves and charity begins at home. Put on the breastplate of self-confidence because if you have no faith in yourself, if you cannot trust to your own wits, then you will never get anywhere. Let your feet be shod with the gospel of success– the good news that you can get just about anything if you want it badly enough and are willing to fight for it. Above all, take the shield of security because in a perilous world where anything can happen, security is perhaps what you need more than anything else–the security of money in the bank, or a college degree(!!!), or some basic skill that you can always fall back on. And take the helmet of attractiveness or personality and the sword of wit... In the war of conquest, that is to say, in the war that we all wage for a place in the sun, it is the armor of man rather than the armor of God that will serve you best; and although I cannot value that armor as highly as some would value it, I also cannot mock it because the armor of God serves its purpose all too well, and because I wear some of it, and so do you."

For the most part, these people were attempting to clothe the masses in the wrong armor.

I couldn’t help but wonder as I left the arena, if people would find themselves as disillusioned with Christ as they most likely will be with the investment class or the real estate DVD’s, when, six months later, the big bucks don’t come pouring in. I wonder if they’ll feel like someone pulled a bait-and-switch operation on them... promising easy street and huge material wealth (everything they’ve ever wanted)... when what they really will get is a different kind of wealth (God gives everything they need). The different between want and need is only four little letters, but most people can’t distinguish between the two (myself included, sometimes).

In an arena that size, I know several hearts were opened to God’s love yesterday. I’m glad. My hope and prayer is that God’s spirit will reveal the Truth about his purposes and plans for good, and that somehow they’ll find themselves in a place where that truth is preached. Not "Jesus, AND" of any kind. Not Jesus AND wealth, or Jesus AND success. Just Jesus. Satisfaction guaranteed.

Sog 2004: the photos

Alrighty... here are way too many pics from my trip. But I'll be gone for a bit, so you'll have plenty of time to enjoy them. In other news, the law office and I went to a motivational seminar in Seattle today... hilarious. Although I did see Rudy Giuliani, Goldie Hawn & Zig Ziglar speak... that was cool. The rest of them? Hmmm... Interesting how people try to sell get-rich-quick investment advice, Jesus, and real estate investment classes all in one seminar (in that order)... more later.

But for now, I give you: The Sog 2004.

Safety first... how much stuff do three girls need just to go rough it??? Evidently, 3.5 tons.

Um... we kick tail... not bad for pitchblack setup.

J. Love at Mt. Rose trailhead

Jules: 0 Tent pole to the face: 2

Some tunes to love Jesus by

Hiking Mt. Rose

Mrs. Anderson... in a howdy mood.

View from Mt. Rose

staircase trailhead

stacey and tawny



me doing something the icy water will have me regretting in about two seconds...

Aaron (Tawny's hubby) outdoing me and Steph with a bridge jump.

local wildlife...dirty.

freezing our bums off for the next 24 hours after the jump...

in spite of Tawny's MacGyvering... this proved it was time to pack up & move out.

seasons... the beauty of the here and now

So my friend Sarah and I were chatting online for a bit last night. Sarah's older sister Rachel was my closest friend in Bellingham, but Sarah and I were close in our own right. As we talked, she asked if I thought I was moving back up there anytime soon. She was so sweet... I had been feeling slightly forgotten and she spoke directly to my heart things that she loved and missed about me. I told her that I'm open to anything God wants to do, but it's not looking like any move is in my future right now. I explained that I'll most likely have a job I love soon writing for a church I love, maybe as early as January. She echoed something my heart has said many times: "I just wish you could do that up here." Man, how I have agreed.

Wouldn't that be nice? If we could take the pieces and people we love from different seasons of our life and mush them all together to form one big glorious good time?

I was thinking about our conversation today and I remembered the day I drove home from Bellingham. I remember with perfect clarity the moment I turned right toward the onramp heading south, knowing full well it was the last time I'd leave Bellingham as my home. I was crying so hard I could barely see. My parents and Kev had already come and moved my stuff home and I had stayed an extra few days to finish recording on a worship album with my church up there, and to squeeze the last few moments and memories I could out of the time I had left. I had stayed up late with Rachel and Sarah, goofing off and talking late into the night, daring to deny that heartbreak was just a few short hours away. As I left town, the only way I can describe it is that it was one of those Road Less Traveled moments: Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back...

Sometimes you just know that you're never going to be able to come back. I wanted to... but I knew better. I knew it would be a while before my body healed up, and perhaps even longer before I could get up the resources to come back. And it broke my heart. I felt like I'd let this trial defeat me, rather than being super-Christian and not letting anything get me down. (I had such beautiful illusions of how I'd bring God glory by overcoming it all...) The six months from September 17 (the wreck) to March 17, the day I moved home, were among the hardest I'd ever experienced. I asked God more why's than I ever had before... why, God, in the midst of me finally finding a place where I fit -- a group of friends to belong to, a church I can serve in, a city I LOVE -- why did You allow this NOW? The answer hasn't been totally revealed, but I know it had something to do with growing my character, and it had something to do with a piece of God's plan that's just too good to see yet. I haven't always had the "it's all for the best" attitude, it's taken a while, but I know enough of God to know it's true. God has blessed me in amazing ways, and is weaving together the pieces of my story in a design that can only be described as miraculous.

Still, it's honestly gut-wrenchingly hard sometimes. Over a year later, I miss Bellingham. I miss my tiny pink stucco built-in-1925 apartment a few blocks from the University with a view of the bay at sunset, where friends would randomly stop by on their way here-or-there. I miss Stuart's, the locaI second-hand furniture coffeeshop with live jazz every Tuesday, where I'd go to study, but end up journaling instead. I miss all the hippies (who bear startling resemblances to every picture I've ever seen of Jesus). I miss living in an ever-changing college town and I miss the larger pool of people to meet. And by people to meet, I mean, um, some great guys. I miss ultimate frisbee every Sunday at 2. I miss the high priority placed on art and music and self-expression. Most of all, I miss the group of friends I made so many memories with... the worship band I played with... the church who adopted me, even with my tender heart, the second I walked through their doors. I had finally found a place where I fit.

And haven't known that feeling since I left. Don't get me wrong, I love it here. I'm growing and happy and working hard at deepening the friendships God has blessed me with. It's cool to be able to run on over to Mom and Dad's for dinner whenever I feel like it. I don't really feel smothered by living in my hometown again. But in Bellingham... I found a different kind of home, one I never knew existed. A home that resonated with so many of the things I found beautiful in the world.

I can idealize all I want, but there's a reality that still creeps in. If I moved back there tomorrow, I'd probably hate it. I can't take what was good about two years ago and mush it together with what's good now, other than in my heart. Things and people are not static, any more than I am. Although Bellingham is still the artsy town I love... it's not the same, and it's not home anymore. My ghetto-fabulous apartment has been rented out to someone new, the pastor who mentored me in worship and music has moved on to a new job in another city. My friends have changed too (just like I have). They've grown and moved on and done amazing things. I fully expect to hear any day now that my closest friend is engaged to an incredible guy... and although my heart is full of joy for her happiness, the last few times I've made the drive for a visit, we've awkwardly stumbled over our words, not knowing what to talk about other than fun memories from our past. We're comfortable because we love each other deeply, but uncomfortable because, for the first time, it's difficult to find common ground... for any number of reasons, not the least of which is, we live busy lives three hours away from each other.

I know that it's natural to long for what was good in another season. My memories are precious, and it would be a sad thing for me to attempt to negate their importance or suppress their impact on my heart, even if it brings with it some pain. Any kind of loss is never easy. But if I'm not careful, I can have my gaze fixed backwards so steadily that I miss the blessings God has for me in the here and now. That would be even sadder.

I have the peace of knowing that I threw myself wholeheartedly into my friendships and opportunities in Bellingham. That is what allows me to hold them a bit loosely. Not loosely in the sense that I don't consider them precious and deeply valuable, but loosely in the sense that I value them for what they were in the past, and still value them for what they are today (even with the changes in depth, communication, common ground... all of it). I hold them loosely and don't pitch a fit because my friends don't give me the luxury of staying the same while I change and live and grow.

For the most part, I didn't miss the important moments... I lived them. Even in the most difficult moments of recuperating, even if it meant I wasn't even remotely near my best... I lived. I can't ask for more than that.

There will come a day when I'm asked to leave what I love here as well. If I've learned anything about my life, it's that it is full of change, and mostly when I'm not expecting it. I don't have guarantees as far as how long any given season is given to me. So I'm attempting to live my season here in such a way that my only regret will be that it ended a bit before I was ready, not that I squandered the moments and friendships I was so generously given.

I'm finally letting myself be at peace with exactly where I'm at in my story. I can tell you, there's absolutely nothing better. Allow yourself to find your place in your story... and don't let anything -- not your longing for the past, nor your yearning for a yet-unwritten future -- don't let anything cheat you of the beauty of the here and now.

Testing...

Steph, me, Tawny & Julie (and a few friendly drops on the lens) 

healing in the stillness

After a long bath, a big meal, a longer nap, and a big mug of green tea, I think I'm nearly human again. What a trip!

I'm proud of us. Getting there late, thanks to Steph's mixup of N & S (10.30 pm) and unable to stumble upon our planned destination, we found this remote little joint called Liliwaup Creek and randomly picked a campsite. Dang, we're good. In the dark, we picked this great site right on the river... imagine our surprise and great delight when we also found out that this was a FREE campground (I never imagined anything on earth was still free...)

Granted, the grounds were also free of running water, electricity and flushing toilets... I can truly say we roughed it. I can also truly say that there is nothing like washing your hair in icy cold river water. Brain freeze from the outside is an amazing phenomenon!

I'll share more of the fun details of the trip when I have the pictures to go with. I took most of my pics on Jules' camera because hers was cooler. Great hiking, great bridge jumping (Aaron), great rock jumping (me and Steph)... all I can say is, we are SO hard core. And the pics to prove it...

For now, this TM-ish thought: There is healing and restoration to be found in silence, if we have the courage to let go of our compulsive need to fill every moment with noise and activity.

I had forgotten the benefit of just a few days of truly retreating. Not youth retreat retreating, but real retreating. It's really a waste that I don't do it more. This gorgeous place in the middle of the Olympic rainforest is only an hour and a half from my apartment. And there are a million other places just like it here. I forget how necessary it is to let yourself be still... away from the TV and the radio and the hectic schedule. My body is tired and sore from all the hiking I did, and from the early mornings... but my mind is so clear and rested. One look in the mirror was evidence... stress was eased from my heart on this trip. (It was also evidence of how crazy I look after camping, but that's a whole other thing)

We were pretty laid back for the most part. Mornings consisted of hot chocolate and breakfast, and then each person to their own time with God. It wasn't planned that way... we hadn't plotted out how to make this a super-spiritual retreat... it just happened. Each person just took time to be. It's fun to be with friends who are okay with silence. Everyone pulled out their book or their journal and took some time. I found a comfy spot where some logs had fallen over the creek... I read some Thomas Merton and wrote for a while and just let the water's music refresh me. Later, Tawny and I pulled out our guitars and we all worshiped together. It was a beautiful time. How can you not worship in the midst of a masterpiece God has created? In the sunshine, it was gorgeous. In the fog and rain, perhaps even more so. (Which is good, because it rained yesterday and POURED this morning...) In the afternoons we hiked. At night, we played games, laughed and talked until we were too tired to move from our chairs to our sleeping bags. It was great.

I just thoroughly enjoyed myself, my friends, and my God this weekend. And came back refreshed in my heart and ready as I can be for what I know is going to be a long week ahead.

*****
Also, just found out a bit ago (thank you M...what a great surprise!) that an article I sent in to Relevant was published in their online magazine... check it out. It was really just the smallest of things, it's not like I got a book accepted or something, but it was just a little step of faith for me to put something out there, come what may, rather than just talking about maybe doing it someday.

I have no idea why God is so good to this girl, but I'm just grateful.

By the way, those of you who continue to visit this little piece of my life, thank you. It's such a little thing, this collection of words and thoughts... but it means a lot to me that anyone would take the time to read them, much less to share their thoughts in return. So thanks.

the river at Staircase 

a weekend in the woods

Whelp, after a lot of thinking, I've decided to still go camping this weekend since the funeral's not til next Friday. Hopefully I will return relatively unscathed...

I'm excited to take it easy for a bit and have some fun out in the woods before the draining week to follow. Mom and Dad fly out Sunday and I'll be flying down with Kevo on Thursday... I'm a bit nervous about the funeral (I've been to very few and will be singing in this one...) but am really looking forward to being with my family, especially my Grandma. God really blessed us with being able to get everyone's airfare to Cali at relatively low expense. Just took a lot of time on the phone.

[In spite of what a long day it was (or maybe BECAUSE of it)... couldn't help but find it pretty funny that in order to use our airline frequent flyer miles award, on our return trip Kev and I have to fly 2.5 hours to Boise (in a teeny jet), sit in the airport for over 2 hours, and then fly another hour plus (in a teenier jet) into Seattle. When a flight direct from Sacramento is an hour and a half. Of all places, BOISE? What the heck am I going to do in BOISE for two hours? I've already decided I'm going to buy a decorative souvenir spoon in the airport lounge as a memoir of the lovely time I spent there. Oh well, you can't argue with free.]

Have a great weekend, everyone. Tell someone you haven't lately how much you love them.

what a difference a day makes...

First of all I just wanted to say thanks for the words of support, the instant phone calls (Lili and Levi), and especially your prayers. God has been good in spite of what a rough day it's been. I was able to cry (a relief) and I was able to also keep it together most of the day (also a relief). I'm sort of spent, but just needed to get it out and verbally process for a bit... so if this post is a little out there, bear with me.

At home last night, my Grandma didn't slept a wink all night, which was unusual given how tired she's been making the trek back and forth to where they took care of him. She convinced herself to go back to bed and was just about to step out of the kitchen when her phone rang. God had prepared her heart. She knew what was coming. As did I when my phone rang at nearly 5 am. Phone calls early in the morning will never sound the same to me again. I'm sure that sounds cliche, but it's the truth.

Grandpa died this (Wednesday) morning just before 2 am. The hospice staff said he opened his eyes, looked around at each person, closed his eyes, and that was it. They said he looked so peaceful as he died... it's amazing the little things we find comfort in.

As I lay in bed this morning, trying unsuccessfully to get back to sleep, I had the sweetest picture in my mind of my grandfather, wide eyed, stumbling around like a child on Christmas morning, staring in unbelief at the grace and beauty all around him. I often joked that when Grandpa died and went to heaven, he'd die of shock a second time at all the less-than-worthies that God ended up letting in. (I love my Grandpa and I know he loved me, but in spite of his faith in Christ he grew up and remained in a world of outward legalism and fire and brimstone and women staying in the kitchen where they belonged... and NEVER wearing shorts... or getting their noses pierced). I had a similar thought this morning, but it was less sarcastic and more beautiful... this morning my Grandpa was not only made physically whole, but whole in his heart and in his soul as well. When our lives fade away, I believe that through Christ's redeeming work at the Cross (and our acceptance of it) we are, in the end, freed from our misunderstandings of the grace of God and our crazy prideful illusions of ourselves (and our deservedness) also: Now I see a dim reflection, as if I were looking into a dark mirror, but then shall I see clearly. Now I know only a part, but then I will know fully, as God has known me. 1 Cor 13.12 It may be that my Grandpa understood grace this morning for the first time. It will be the same for me when it's my turn. I will see myself as I really am, and I'll see God's heart as He really is... I'll be utterly astounded.

Random thought, but I kept thinking about what I read in the Great Divorce, I'm going to have to re-read it this week.

As I drove home from work, the thought hit me that my eight hour day at work had passed just as quickly (or slowly) as it always does. And that felt very weird to me. My day has lasted twenty-four hours, as it always does. It was such a strange feeling. In the span of a day, someone I love went from present tense to past tense. At least, in one sense of it. I don't know what I thought it would feel like (this is the first relative I've been close to to pass away)... but I didn't expect the day to still be so... normal. The sun shone today just as fiercely as ever, as it rose and set in its regular path. I found myself still laughing at little things during my day (and then feeling a little guilty). I drove to work, filed papers, made calls, and typed endlessly... just like I always do. What was even stranger was to think that human beings are being born and dying around me all the time... and still, the world keeps spinning just as it does everyday. The normalcy on days like today is unnerving. It feels like, because a part of your heart has stopped, all else should too. I don't know if that makes sense...

When talking to my Grandma today, it was strange to hear her talking about what her visit with Grandpa was like yesterday. What he said yesterday. It feels so far away, and yet, it was only a day ago. Only a day ago, and yet, my world has changed in ways that my quiet grief doesn't allow me to grasp yet... it will hit me soon, I know it. And I won't be able to wax philosophical on the meaning of life, or the significance of a day, or any of the crap that's been bumbling around in my head all day to keep me busy. I'll just cry and let myself break a little and say goodbye in my own way. I'm ok with that. I know God's peace and comfort will meet me there.

Again, thanks for your prayers, they make all the difference in the world.

Goodbyes

This morning my Grandpa is whole again and in the presence of Jesus.

Us? It's going to be kinda hard for a while.

When our phone rang early this morning, I knew what was coming. Grandpa passed away last night after a long battle with cancer, heart disease and just plain old-age (he was 92). It's such a strange feeling - I knew it was coming and I'm so relieved that someone I love is no longer suffering, but it hurts down to the depths of my heart all the same.

Prayers for my family, especially my Grandma, are so appreciated.

Surely goodness and mercy

Shall follow me

All the days of my life;

and I will dwell in the house

of the Lord forever.

Psalm 23.6

The Cush 2004

IF a few of my posts look slightly different, it's because I was absolutely mortified at their length and took scissors to them. No comments? Probably cause people were so exhausted after reading that they were, in the words of my friend A. Powers, "spent." So, anyway, if you think I'm a total blabber mouth, 1) you're right, and 2) back off. I'm trying. And it's MY BLOG.

I AM OFF WORK THIS FRIDAY! And headed off Thursday night for a weekend camping trip with some of my dearest friends, Julie & Steph. Being away from work and meetings and - dare I say it? - intern responsibilities for four days in God's gorgeous creation will be absolutely heavenly. We are headed up to Lake Cushman in the Olympic National Forest, and will most likely hike some of the hikes at Staircase or Mt. Elinor while we're there. It's so nice living in the Pac Northwest - whether you like hiking, skiing, the beach... it's all right here closeby. And it's gorgeous...

Here's what it looks like at the Cush:

Jealous yet? You should be. (my pics will be better, though - you wait and see).

There is something about being out in the woods that completely rejuvenates me. There is also something about not HAVING to do anything other than breathe that completely rejuvenates me. I'm looking forward to it - setting up camp; the burnt food on the cookstove; fireside guitar playing; latenight talking, telling stories and laughing til we finally drop off to sleep... awesome.

One thing I love about camping are all the stories that come out of your time there. Some past tidbits: tent trailer rolling INTO the lake; skunk hiding behind toilet late at night; huge toad jumping out of the toilet at you late at night; meeting (and nearly stepping on) large snakes on the trail; the huge fish that got away... there is much fun to be had. And I'm about ready to have it.

Just two more days of work... I can make it!

search engines don't lie...

This made me laugh out loud...

Someone found and then visited my site because they entered the term "blonde genius" in yahoo's search.

They were surely disappointed...

As God is my witness... I shall never go hungry again!

I discovered that in addition to finding out what's truly important in life and running after it, there's another way to feel like a real and true grownup: I got a Costco card today. I can now buy in bulk what I never ever knew I needed. I shall never go hungry again.

This really all came about because Kevo and I decided to clean out our fridge. An ultimately good decision that began poorly as we figured out that 1) Tupperware + leftovers + back of fridge + three months = something very very bad, and 2) we have only condiments & beverages, no food. We have three brands of BBQ sauce, every kind of salad dressing, ten gallons of ketchup, two varieties of salsa, and a few two-liters that went flat about a minute after our last party... no food. It is true that I only eat food to put sauce on it, but no food... doesn't really work.

So after our trip today, I don't think we'll need anything for a while. If a massive tragedy were to strike, I'd be ok for at least six months. Worst case scenario, I could live on the twenty-five pound bag of Super Lucky Elephant brand Jasmine Rice we lugged home. (There were two other kinds, but I opted for Super Lucky Elephant brand. The name is a brilliant piece of marketing. Super Lucky Elephant... or Regular Non-Lucky Kind? What do you think I'm going to pick???)

Happy Monday, folks. Remember, only five days til the weekend!

My Family Is Nuts

Went with the folks to Claim Jumpers last night after shopping. Yum. Now, I don't know what it is, but shopping fully brings out the goofy in me and my mom. First off, me and this feisty redhead have the same obnoxious sense of humor. People, in general and sometimes specifically, are a neverending source of material. The world is just full of funny people. They don't know they're funny... they just are. The great thing is that we don't even have to point out to each other the reason for the laughter, thus risking hurting someone's feelings... one of us just catches the other's eye, and we're gone. My Dad just sorta sits back and watches... laughing at us as we're crying and dabbing our eyes with our napkins.

Tonight, however, we were our own source of laughter. This, in my family, is quite common. We tease each other a bit ruthlessly at times... the rule is, you stop if the person starts crying, other than that, they're fair game. Anyway, I can't fully describe to you what was so funny, it was probably more a product of exhaustion... but we laughed til we cried about four times during dinner. I love and treasure those moments... they're one of the best things about being in my family. I'm sure it's a you had to be there type thing, but to give you an idea of what dinner with the folks is sometimes like...

1. My dad, since I was little does the classic "What's that?" point-in-some-wierd-direction thing to distract me and steal some of my food. Tonight I didn't fall for it and told him to keep his grubby hands away from my plate. So then Mom goes and feels sorry for him and tosses our poor starving family member a piece of bread. I sat there for a second, debating, and then with an "OH, all right..." flung one teeny tiny french fry his way as if I was feeding the dog.
2. My mom ordered a bowl of soup that comes in a sourdough bread bowl. She was having a really hard time cutting up the bread, having tried my dad's steak knife unsuccessfully. Finally, in desperation (don't get between a person and their carbs)... she says, "Oh well... I paid for it," and picked it up and ate it like a cookie. Not at all funny until you realize that the bowl was about twice as big as her face...
3. Kevin has started a tradition that we occasionally revisit. It's called "Make A Face Out of Your Garnish and Leftovers"... started long time ago. I considered it briefly, and then thought, nah, don't want to embarrass the folks (I'm not sure why I was worried, with Mom knawing at her bread bowl, but I was). So I just sat there, waiting for the check to come. About a minute and a half later, I look over and Mom is creating her own masterpiece! I was gone. I made my own, but deconstructed it before the waiter arrived. Even so, I unfortunately glanced over at mom as he was clearing, and attempted to hold my laughter in, but with no success. Ah, to be a Rich. This is the good life.

Thanks for a great dinner Mom & Dad. Keep rockin' the party. You psychos.

It's not about me

Being a slightly more sensitive individual than some comes with its blessings and its curses. (I used to only see the curses, but I know that there are ways this temperament can be used). One curse of sensitivity is that you're forever feeling things deeply, thus keeping you constantly aware of your hurts, your excitement, your frustrations, and so on. It becomes hard to forget yourself... and if I'm really to follow Christ... I'm to deny [forget] myself, pick up my cross, and follow Him.

This heart can also be used greatly as well, but it's only when I intentionally turn that sensitivity to what another person is feeling, what another person is going through. And that's honestly, for me, hard to remember sometimes. I wish it wasn't so, but there it is. I have to fight not to be selfish. Even when serving, there are times when my thoughts are still on me... and I completely miss the point.

Example: A month ago, I nearly chucked the whole music thing, after nearly a lifetime of pursuing it. I can't ever quite let it go (or it never quite lets go of me, one), but it's definitely been a temptation. Why? I don't feel like I'm good enough for the church I'm at. I've played piano for 18 years, guitar for 3, and sung publicly since I was 4, but as of this past year, put me on stage with a bunch of mini-Dave Matthewses, and my legs turn to jello and I feel like bolting. Not a great characteristic when leading a band. This is a new feeling. I've led worship for nearly ten years and normally love it, but this past year, I've felt more naked up there and more unqualified than I can remember. People are so kind to me and really encourage me (they swear they don't notice), but in all honesty, half the time I think - please, get someone else to do this.

I revert to being a person I haven't been in a long time... who couldn't take two steps forward without being bombarded with thoughts of (in no particular order) that sucked, you really annoyed that person, you're holding the group back, they don't think you're doing very well, and so on. I feel awkward, then get nervous, which makes me more awkward, and the whole cycle feeds on itself. To the point where I can't even do what I most feel gifted at doing - singing my guts out, sharing my heart and saying a few words that help people see more clearly the One they're singing to...

Wes (my pastor) said something not long ago that I will never forget: You will never be truly used until you're more concerned with meeting their needs than you are about how you'll come off.

Ouch, ouch, and ouch. Making mistakes doesn't necessarily exclude making a difference in another person's life. Is it possible that I could come off as sort of an untalented dork on stage and yet still meet a need? Probably. Do I have to play a perfect set in order to succeed at pointing people to God? Probably not. Now, if I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, then maybe we'd need to find another arena for me to serve. But God has gifted me, even if that gift isn't fully developed yet. So if it costs me my delusions of having it together, well, that's what He asks of me. It's a hell of a hard thing to give up, quite frankly. For all my comfort with confessions verbally, musically I like to look like a pro, like I've got it together. So far, however, that's not what God has enabled me with or called me to.

So, tomorrow morning, when I'm guest leading at a teeny tiny church on the Island (more awkward than usual, as I don't know them, and I'm on a little ghetto keyboard, little ghetto speakers, and that's it... out in a parking lot behind a school...), I'm going to try to live out this thought: It's not about me. It's about meeting a need that God deeply cares about. God wants people to open their hearts during a time of corporate worship. I can help facilitate that if I #1) get my eyes off myself and worship God with my whole heart myself, and 2) think of the needs represented by the sweet faces in front of me.

Maybe this applies to other areas of my life as well, but being exposed publicly just makes the awareness more acute. Perfection is not a requirement to serve others. (If so, who would sign up???) Put another way, imperfections are not an excuse to avoid serving others. There are other areas of my life where I hold back because my skills aren't quite right or my motives aren't yet perfect (I used to feel guilty when we visited the homeless shelter in college because I always had a great time and felt good about going, for instance...). The people God's placed in my life don't have time for me to wait til I'm really impressive before I start to serve. I have to love to the best of my ability, and trust God's grace to fill the rest in.

(Sometimes it's even better to let your humanity show. In mentoring high school girls, for instance, it brings relief and hope for them in their own walks with Christ when I admit that it's not always daisies and sunshine. Suddenly things look a little more possible - rather than me presenting this fake impossible standard that I can't even attain to).

There is a world out there who doesn't have a physical Jesus to reach out and touch them -- all they've got is us. It's a complete switch from my natural way of thinking - but I'm trying to get my eyes on them and off of me. It's not about me.

Mom, Stace, Kev, & Dad 

[on selling the farm]

"I think you're officially grown up when you 1) know one thing that is indispensible about your life and are willing to sell the farm to get it and 2) sell the farm." Thank you Myles, fount of wisdom.

That thought stuck with me today. What's worth selling the farm for? Until that's resolved, everything remains fuzzy. Once it's decided, we then know how to live. I can think of a few things off the top of my head.

1. LIVING AS A DISCIPLE OF CHRIST. I wish that I could communicate meaningfully to people that there is a difference between having said a certain prayer one time (and that's it), and living a life that starts looking less like the old man (or woman) and more like Christ. What's the point of professing a faith, yet living a life that totally denies that faith? The answer is simple. There isn't one. People have heard enough sermons on how to live (whether they've ever set foot in church or not) to last a lifetime... what they respond to is genuine change. Genuine joy. And living two lives displays neither. As it says in James, faith without deeds is dead. And while we are not saved by our works, or by any goodness that we in ourselves can conjure up, we are saved so that we can do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Eph. 2.10) We are saved to serve.

I'm not talking perfection -- because I am far from it. Anyone who knows me could explain that to you quite emphatically. But the grace I have found in Christ is worth everything -- worth the entire farm and then some... worth sacrificing my comfort, worth sacrificing what others think, worth laying down my self-centered plans and my desire for rightnowfulfillment that always gets me in trouble.

What I've found is this fact -- what I (at times, grudgingly) lay down really wasn't that important in the first place...it has been replaced by something far better. I now find my comfort in knowing that, even in the gut-wrenching circumstances in which I sometimes find myself, God is working all things out for my good, and that He never leaves me, nor forsakes me. I have fought to lay down my concern for what others think. This one's pretty hard for me. But I've learned that seeking approval is a completely unattainable goal. What people think changes. From person to person, and within the same person... I simply cannot please all the people all the time (or even one person all the time). God's love for me doesn't waver with circumstances or even my own mistakes. And my plans, well... they kind of sucked anyway. They were safe. They were sensible. They were boring. Now I'm living a life and pursuing a calling that requires God to work, or else my plans fail. Honestly, that scares me to death, but I wouldn't trade it. I'm learning about God's strength firsthand... because I'm in a place where I fully have to rely on it. I've jumped out of the boat... sold the farm (although there are more yet to sell, I'm sure)... And lastly, I'm learning to be patient... to wait. Which brings me to #2:

2. SOMEDAY, I'LL SELL THE FARM FOR LOVE. BUT NOT UNTIL I'M SELLING IT FOR AN UPGRADE.

I knew that I'd eventually share my heart in this matter in some form or fashion, but wanted to wait til I had a decent (translate: non-bitter) perspective of heartache I experienced early in the year. I say heartache and not heartbreak for good reason. I prayed for wisdom and clear vision, and God answered.

The as-short-as-possible version: someone I'd known since I was fourteen suddenly moved back north and back into my life. Because of our prior friendship and his closeness to my family, he didn't have a hard time gaining my trust. He was handsome, he was a charmer... And he shared my passion for music & worship. (I had already broken rule number one: No musicians. ha ha.) I fell a bit quicker than I meant to. He spoke of his feelings, and that was that.

Although I was more excited than I'd been in a long time, I prayed long and hard, wanting to have wide-open eyes (which as a girl, I suck at when it comes to love or like or anything in between). Despite my inner protests, soon I began to catch a pattern. In every scenario my friend told, he was either the valiant hero or the cheated victim. Nothing in between, never his fault, no matter how boneheaded the situation was... And there were little things that kept surfacing that bothered me - they just didn't add up, despite his words. I fought it off, however, sure that my old insecurities were playing a role here, I was "replaying old tapes" as my boss likes to put it. Turns out that it was just really good intuition, that God was trying to say, "HEY, STUPID! Not for you!"

Turns out that my friend, no doubt from rough circumstances he's been through himself, has a truth-telling problem... habitual lying... whatever's convenient for him in the moment. It hurt, to be sure, but I think what hurt the most was realizing that he felt trapped, and that's the only thing he felt he could do to get by. Some of the most likeable, potential-filled people I've ever known try some shorthanded means to earn that approval, and end up getting the whole thing absolutely screwed up.

Once I'd thought things through, I asked him to set things straight, but if he didn't want to do that, well then, he knew where the door was. (Go me... I may be slightly slow to speak my mind when it comes to this, but the Irish eventually finds its way to my mouth...) To anyone else, it might sound like the smallest of things, but it was a real victory to be at a place where I was willing to say I'm sorry. This... just isn't acceptable to me. I expect better. I deserve better. God hasn't worked in me all these years to settle for someone who'll only break down all that we've worked to build. It's been a process of healing, but through God working in my heart during some (long) years of being single, I finally get it. I'm worth being pursued by a man of integrity who loves God and lives it & who loves me and shows it.

My friend? He chose the door and within a few weeks was peddling the same lines on someone else, with some creative material added about me that I didn't particularly endorse. Me? A bit of a mess inside for about two weeks, and then suddenly, I was ok about it. Grateful for God's protection.

Two pieces of advice: 1) Anyone can be nice for a month or two. After that, who we really are starts peeking out. Wait a bit and get to know character. There are some fantastic guys in the world, but it takes time to get to know their heart. 2) It's healthy to be at a place where you're willing to dive in... don't let past hurts keep you from being open to the possibilities. However, please take the time to look and make sure there's water in the pool beforehand. Saves a lot of pain.

I've come to the place in my life where I'd rather be without than to be with and still wanting.

Maybe some of you can relate... as girls, sometimes it's the hardest thing in the world to do, because we tend to be idealists. We'll settle far too often to avoid being alone. I've walked there at times. But no longer. And because I've (nearly) let go of that grasping desperate need to be completed by someone... I can rest in the hope that God knows what He's doing. When the time is right, I'll meet him, I'll work it, he'll love it, and the rest will be history. ;) My version of selling the farm, at the moment, means being patient and waiting for someone who first of all, sold the farm for #1, above, and second, who's got the guts (or whatever) to sell the farm for me.

(I'm not going to lie and paint a picture that doesn't exist, however. I do have my moments where my status is a bit uncomfortable. Case in point: questions about said status. Today I visited the credit union where I used to work and my old manager, a Scottish loudmouth who I love dearly, asked me in her thick brogue, "So, mah wee Stacey, how's yourrr love life a goin'?" "Non-existent." "Aughh... well what's wrrrong with ya then?" "Ummm..." Several cases in point: the grocery store, summer camp, every wedding I go to... where American-style loudmouths ask me whats up. I just try to grin and laugh it off. It's only a season. And someday I'll get to be the loudmouth. It'll be fun to get my fair share of heckling in...)

That was a whole lot of spaghetti (girls talk in spaghetti tangent-to-tangent format, guys in waffle format, typically)... but I hope it encouraged you in some way, hopefully to take the time in your life to figure out what IS & ISN'T worth selling the farm for. Blessings and have a great weekend!

Twentysomething...

CURRENTLY PLAYING: Jamie Cullum - Twentysomething (Jazz... think raspy Harry w/ great keys... piano is hot again...) Thank you Darcie for the heads-up!

From the title track... hmm...

After years of expensive education
A car full of books and anticipation
I’m an expert on Shakespeare
And that’s a helluva lot
But the world don’t need scholars
As much as I thought...

Maybe I’ll go traveling for a year
Finding myself or start a career
I could work for the poor
though I’m hungry for fame
We all seem so different
But we’re just the same...

Maybe I'll go to the gym
So I don’t get fat
Aren’t things more easy
With a tight six pack?
Who knows the answers
Who do you trust
I can’t even separate
love from lust...

Maybe I’ll move back home and pay off my loans
Working nine to five answering phones
Don’t make me live for my Friday nights
Drinking eight pints and getting in fights...

I don’t want to get up just let me lie in
Leave me alone I’m a twentysomething

Maybe I could just fall in love
That could solve it all
For lots of us say that that’s enough
There surely must be more...

Love ain’t the answer, nor is work
The truth eludes me so much it hurts
But I’m still having fun and I guess that’s the key
I’m a twentysomething and I'll keep being me...

Stuff that made me laugh today...

.

The Village (and why it kicked tail)

*** If you haven't seen the movie, you may not want to read further. No intentional spoilers, but anyway, it's been two weeks. You've had time. ***

The theater was nearly empty last night -- I had forgotten how nice it is to go on Thursday night rather than Friday night, especially when going solo. Going solo on a Friday night, while doable, is a tiny yet strong dose of heart torture. All the lovey dovey couples... it's like being on the Adkin's diet and visiting a chocolate shoppe. I actually quite enjoy going to the movies on my own... although I don't recommend seeing certain movies alone. (I went to see Castaway by myself on New Year's Day when I had gotten dumped for another chick on New Years Eve... NOT RECOMMENDED)

OK... in no particular order, why I loved seeing this fine movie.

1. It reminded me of the incredible power music has to evoke human emotion. As a musician and a worship leader, this was a great reminder. Music can soften the heart, strike sheer terror into it... and everything in between. Shyamalan always uses this tool to his maximum benefit. During the opening credits, the only thing filmed were trees (in black and white, also a nice touch)... but the music already had my heart pounding... it only grew stronger as the film progressed. And the violin music was lovely.

2. Three words. Bryce Dallas Howard. I'd never seen her in anything else. After this, I'm sure I'll be seeing her plenty. She played her rather complex character with all the necessary elements... innocence, gumption, honesty, vulnerability, bravery... what a good role to make your big debut with. And I liked the quiet commentary on how we see with much more than just our physical eyes.

3. Another element Shyamalan uses often is the power of mystery... what you don't see is as useful as what you do. What you don't see is terrifying or tantalizing, sometimes both. There are several points in this movie where I actually found myself craning my neck to see around someone or something... he doesn't just hand out the answer as a matter-of-fact. He makes you want it first.

4. Joaquin Phoenix, um, I love you. Seriously, though, Lucius (a Gladiator name, which tripped me out for a few) really is incredibly lovable in this movie. Quiet and considered a bit odd by those around him, he looks at life differently than others in the Village. But he also doesn't fear things the way the others do. And my heart skipped a beat during the scenes when he grabs Ivy's hand and leads her away from danger, continuing to grasp it even after the danger has passed. It hit me deeply. Isn't that what we want? Someone to grab our hand and not let go?

5. It was literally crazy seeing Adrien Brody in such a different role, than say, The Pianist. He probably had the time of his life playing that role. You can't tell me playing psycho isn't fun.

6. The "twist" that makes M. Night Shyamalan's movies so fun... I kept on thinking I had already seen the twist... but I was wrong. This twist was so smart and so wholly unexpected. I loved it. Had me thinking all the way home. The lengths we go to to allay our fears of being hurt... amazing.

7. Oh, and there were a few scenes that made me jump and/or curl up in a ball (cause for some reason thats what I do when I'm scared during a movie)

Haven't seen it yet? You're missing out. If you've seen it... comments welcome!

home sweet home (and dinner, sweet dinner)

Welcome call from Mom today after work: "Throwin' some chicken on the grill, want some?" And the peasant rejoiced. Nothing like heading over to the parent's place for some good eatin'. Not like they live far away (5 minutes)... I wonder why I don't head over and raid their fridge more often (evil plot forming...). Now that I haven't lived there in quite a while, I always feel nostalgic coming home, like when I used to visit Grandma's house. I am a sentimental freak. But honestly, I love coming home, whether I live three hours away or five minutes.

Above: The Rich Estate, in all its glory.

Above: My Dad... isn't he the cutest? I'm vain and cropped myself out... my lazy left eye was a little wonky, and I couldn't stand it.

Dad and I bonded for a bit tonight... we took out the tent in preparation for my camping trip, for two reasons: 1) to make sure everything was there (Kevo learned that the hard way), and 2) to make sure little miss blondie could set it up with little to no embarrassing failures. (We've been high-rolling in the tent trailer for the last decade... it's been a while since I've REALLY roughed it). About two seconds into setting up my dome tent... it occurred to me that if I were too stupid to figure that thing out, I didn't deserve to be camping. The real test will be building a fire... making food...

She can be taught!

This was tonight's sunset, near my apartment. Called Grandma, had a nice chat, watched a day of my life end. I love living here in the Pacific Northwest... nothing beats it.

Alrighty, off the see The Village... by myself... because I am brave.

Stacey Rich: Computer Genius

The five inches (wide) of space that blogger gave me was lovely, but I am just a little too longwinded and I had premonitions of people suffering finger cramps from having to use their mouse wheelie so much. Being concerned for the finger health of humanity, I, computer moron, figured out how to read and customize my html code. I've been upgraded to computer genius status, I'm sure of it...

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... my blog in WIDE SCREEN EDITION!!!

By the way, everybody everybody, when I visited HOMESTAR RUNNER today, Strongsad's Blog came up randomly. Loved it.

[books to change your life by]

CURRENTLY PLAYING: Bic Runga - Beautiful Collision (gorgeous voice imported from New Zealand...)

I am unashamedly bookish. Always have been. I was one of those kids who regularly got in trouble for staying up too late READING, of all things (oh, the horror!). My parents could tell I was up by the light shining through the crack below my door, so I would stuff a towel in it to block the evidence... genius. Not much has changed. I've almost wholly given up fiction because I'll read straight through a book in one sitting because the suspense kills me (although I'm too stubborn to pull the "read-the-last-page-to-see-who-makes-it" trick). This habit is not healthy when I have to work a few hours later. The week I read The Brothers Karamazov (basically just so I could say I'd done it) was rather hellish. So I'm more of a non-fiction addict now.

Whatever speaks to me, I tend to pass on. Friends sharing struggles are sure to hear a bit of paraphrased wisdom I recently gleaned from the pages of a well-written book. I am the quote queen. Although the wisdom isn't mine (and I say so), somehow I am deemed somewhat wise as well... guilt by association, apparently.

So here are a few of my favorites. They're not my favorites because they were the most philosophically profound, or the most intellectually impressive... some of them I didn't even like at first. They are treasured because they spoke a language that, as far as I knew up til then, only existed in my thoughtful ramblings. For once I didn't feel odd or out of place. It was as if I'd lived in a foreign country all my life, and had suddenly happened upon someone speaking English. The kindred spirits I discovered in these pages gave me courage to be more true to my own heart and comfortable in my own skin than I'd ever been previously. Most of all, they revealed a grace I had never once imagined could be remotely possible, let alone available to me, a human human being...

So in a spirit of gratitude, here are a few I'd recommend:

1. THE HUNGERING DARK & THE MAGNIFICENT DEFEAT by Frederick Buechner. Frederick Buechner is an essay writer, a preacher, a novelist. Many people are these things. What makes Buechner so unique and endearing to me is his unabashed honesty.

When I read Buechner for the first time, I felt relieved. Someone finally said it. It's ok to have questions. It's ok to doubt. It's ok to admit that there are parts of the Bible that don't make for neat & easy Sunday School packaging, complete with a clear moral to the story. It's ok for my understanding of God to still be somewhat incomplete. I can still reach for Him, even in my ignorance.

Even more personally impacting, it was ok to admit that I am still somewhat incomplete. For once, it was acceptable to still be human and clumsy. No need to "flip the switch" or convince the world I'm any more than what I am. At the same time these words freed me to be at rest in who I've become thus far, they pointed out that there yet remains a journey to be savored. People and friendships to be enjoyed. Life is to be lived, and every moment wasted is just that. I walked away wanting to REALLY LIVE, whatever that meant... and I've looked at my world differently ever since.

The Killing of Time
What a grim saying it is, if you stop to think about it, because the time you are killing, of course, is your own time, and there is precious little of it at that. One life on this earth is all that we get, whether it is enough or not enough, and the obvious conclusion would seem to be that at the very least we are fools if we do not live it as fully and bravely and beautifully as we can...

2. THOUGHTS IN SOLITUDE by Thomas Merton
You can't get much better than a modern-day Trappist monk. I still remember the first time I read it -- sitting in a Denny's a few blocks from my Bible college (anyplace with cheap coffee available 24 hours a day is a haven for me when I'm in student-mode). I hated this book the first time I read it, because it was so hard to wrap my head around. I would read an entire page and then wake up, thinking, what the heck did I just read about? I had Eileen, my waitress, bring me more coffee and buckled down, determined to finish the book so I could write my paper and be done with it. And then I came to this prayer, and tears welled up in my eyes as I sat there in my booth:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot see for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am doing your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope I that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will fear no evil, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Particularly at this point in my life, I needed to hear those words. Feeling slightly lost and aimless, I needed to hear that my aim didn't need to be this career choice or that ministry path -- my aim needed to be to please God, and well, all the details -- those were really up to Him in the long run, anyway. Half the times I believed I was truly doing God's will for my life, I was wrong. But they led me closer to His heart, and ultimately, closer to whatever plan it is that He's still revealing, piece by tiny piece, in my life.

After reading this, I decided to give old Tommy another shot. And as I read his thoughts over, and then a third time, fourth... God was revealed to me in a new way. Not the church-sermon God, not the worship-songs God, but the sought-in-silence God. The God that I too often miss when I don't slow down long enough to quiet myself and make a space for Him.

This post is obnoxiously long already, and I'm getting sleepy, so Lewis and Yancey will have to wait for tomorrow or the next day. I know... everyone is hanging on my every word... I guess it all depends on if anything ridiculous happens tomorrow that I'd rather write about (MORE ridiculous, say, then someone intentionally keying the crap out of my car, which I discovered today after lunch... I didn't think I had enemies...). Oh well. I have firmly decided not to stress about the two and a half foot scratch down to the metal on my car (and the footlong one on my hood). It's not the first scratch my car has suffered, it won't be the last. Still, it's sad to realize so tangibly that the world is, indeed, sometimes a messed up place with people who will screw your day up just because your car is, while not anything particularly special, a pretty teal green. Sigh.

I've disintegrated into full-on rambling, so away I go. Blessings and g'nite.

Operation PGB, day three

God normally gives me something everyday that I can laugh about. He started quite early today.

I had a weird dream that woke me up at 5.45 am, so getting to the gym this morning was no problem. (Two days in one week... not since college have I been so dedicated...)

So I did all my cardio, (I love those ellyptical runners - awesome), worked my legs, and then went over to the ab weight machines. There, I met Muscle Man Number One. I'm not trying to be mean, but what a freak show! (Muscle Man Number One probably goes to your gym too). He struts about like a peacock and his spandex workout shorts and gym tank top (complete with large hole in front, just to show you how long he's been dedicated to lifting). The strutting, I didn't really notice at first. (at the gym, it's not like strutting is rare).

It was more the ungodly noises he was making over on the glute machine that got my attention. Muscle Man sounded like he was giving birth. Natural childbirth, with no painkillers. He could teach cavemen how to communicate, his grunting was that good.

I'm thinking to myself, "Now how am I supposed to do crunches on this machine with that sort of thing going on?" The only muscles I was really working were my facial muscles... trying not to burst out in laughter. (I didn't dare laugh. He could, literally, break me in half. I would like to stay on good terms with MM)

He left the machine, and I resumed my crunches, happy that I could once again suffer in silence. However, as he strutted past, he continued to moan, groan, and grunt! As if walking, too, were hard work for such a muscle man as he. Back and forth he went, back and forth. Even his breathing was obnoxiously loud.

At this point I sort of gave up any hope of a decent workout. Luckily, however, he soon moved on to his natural habitat (translation: the bench press bar) where others of his kind could grunt in unison.

Which brings me to my first question of this morning's post, especially for you men out there: Does all that moaning and groaning actually help your workout? Because I'm strongly considering trying it. Anything for my health. Anything.

Second lovely part of my gym visit: Enter Muscle Man Number Two. (I just had an unfortunate Austin Powers reference bolt through my mind... moving on). I'll just give you the conversation. Keep in mind that I don't get pretty for the gym. I roll out of bed, wash my face, brush my teeth, and attempt to tame my unruly curls (translation: I wad my hair up in ridiculous pigtailish things). Keep in mind also that I'm not trying to sound like a vain jerkface, like I get hit on often. Trust me. It's rare. When I do get hit on, it normally takes a slightly embarrassing route, a-like so:

MM2: (mid-strut) Tuesday, is it?
Me: What? (thinking, it's Wednesday... what on earth?)
MM2: Your name's not Tuesday?
Me: Nope. (grateful my name's not Tuesday)
MM2: Well your Tshirt says...
Me: (having totally forgotten I was wearing my Late Tuesday Tshirt) OH... no, it's the name of a band from up in Bellingham. (Why the heck would I wear a Tshirt that had my name and the word "late" above it. LATE STACEY... "Stacey, is it?")
MM2: Oh, cause, you know, sometimes people have their names... on their shirts...(trailing off)...
Me, inwardly: What on earth?
MM2: So you do you live up there?
Me: (dismayed that this is now a conversation) No, I lived up there for a while when I went to school.
MM2: Oh. Right on. So you live here now.
Me: Yup. (don't ask me for my real name... don't ask me for my real name...)
MM2: So if your name's not Tuesday, what is it?
Me: DANG IT! I'm Stacey, nice to meet you.
MM2: Nice to meet you. (strut continues).
Me: (trying not to turn red and just get back to my stinkin' workout...)
ENTER MUSCLE MAN NUMBER THREE (in way too short, tight, bright electric blue cutoff sweatpants)!!! Muscle Man Three actually didn't freak me out so much, except for the shorts, I think he was just trying to be nice, because I was sort of embarrassed.
MM3: You gotta watch out for that guy... he's so smooth... really smooth, that guy is.
Me: awkward laugh...
MM3: OH, I'm John, by the way...
Me: I'm Stacey, nice to meet you.
MM3: Nice to meet you.

Making my escape to my car:
MM3: (as he's jogging by) Have a great day!
MM3: You too, John. You too.

So apparently my appeal has expanded from 18 year olds, to include Muscle Men! SCORE!

Which leads me to my second question: What are the WORST pickup lines you've ever heard? Or used? Ever called a girl by a word on her Tshirt? Curiosity is killing me.

Have a great day - may yours be filled with laughter, as mine already has been.

The Voice 

What grade are you in?

CURRENTLY PLAYING: Frank Sinatra - Classic Sinatra: His Great Performances (excellent collection, by the way)

There is something seriously wrong with the world at large. Or with me. It must be the world at large. (makes sense, right?)

The question of the evening: DO I LOOK SEVENTEEN? DO I? Sigh.

The last few years, I've kind of gotten used to having to explain to folks that see our pictures that no, I'm not the younger sibling... Just because Kevo's a big moose does not make him an older moose.

Lately, however, it's just been downright spooky. I visited a friend's youth ministry, and I kid you not, on two separate occasions, students came up to me and said, "So what grade are you in?" "Well, I was a senior about six or seven years ago..." <enter awkward silence as dude, she's old! sets in> I had to laugh...

Tonight I was hanging out some of my high school girls. One mom truly thought I was seventeen years old. Seventeen. I could see mistaking me for 21 or 20. That's only a good three or four years off. But seventeen? When I'm sitting there with two sixteen year olds & Kara (21)? Weird. I know I was being my slightly goofy, sarcastic self, but don't think I was overtly immature... I save that for summer camp.

I really thought I was coming along in the world... it had been about a year since I've gotten ID'd for a movie... people don't give me funny looks at my grown-up job anymore (what was hilarious was when I did loans at 19... people were so confused)...

And now, I'm back to "What grade are you in?" How did this happen? I don't read Tiger Beat, I don't have Justin Timberlake/Orlando Bloom posters on my walls, I don't look to Hillary Duff for fashion and makeup tips... (involuntary shudder)...

It's starting to make more sense why I'm more likely to get hit on by the 18-20 crowd than by those near my own age... or at least I'll just let myself think that (Kevin's reading this thinking: yeah, sure Stace... whatever helps ya sleep at night)!

Maybe this lookingyoungerness will stick around til I'm forty and then people'll mistake me for thirty... I'd be for that. Til then, I'll keep bringing my driver's license to the movies.

So what makes a person an official grown-up? Suggestions?

HA HA... Young at Heart just came on...
"Fairy tales can come true/it can happen to you/if you're young at heart..."
Gotta love the Voice!

Happy Monday!

I think there might be something seriously wrong with me. Little Miss Hits-her-snooze-thirty-times has now been up and about for two hours.

Against my better judgement, 6.15 am saw me at West Coast Fitness. I decided last night (at DQ with our kids for the weekly after-service hangout time) that today would be the day. Wasn't too sure of my determination though - I was sharing a blizzard with Lil at the moment...

Operation Prevent Ghetto Booty has begun.

And today actually was the day! I think June 15th or so was supposed to be the day, and last Wednesday, also, but I wimped out in favor of sleeping for a few precious moments longer. So I'm pretty stinkin' proud of myself. It's nice to start out your week on a note of (even a small) victory.

I've now had breakfast, read my Purpose Driven Life for the morning (both things that NEVER happen)... I'm ready to rock n' roll.

I hope you have a great day, and that your eyes are open to God's blessings around you and the people around you (people you have an opportunity to serve and bless!).

We'll see how Day Two of OPGB goes. Scary.

No apologies necessary... dear friend

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away. ~Dinah Craik

My friend Carly lives in L.A. Pursuing her dream of fashion design and marketing, she bravely moved away last September... and it hasn't been quite the same around here since. Famous for blurting out whatever it is she's thinking, but also famous for her huge heart, she's a bright spot in my life. Even from L.A., she beams a ton of love and encouragement my way.

At times, we are polar opposites, at others, we are so alike it's scary... One thing we share at the moment is a CRAZY schedule. We've been playing phone tag for about a month, long overdue for a "What happened?" "He said what?" kind of talk.

I got a text message on my cell this morning - "Thanks for being so patient with me. Love you." Earlier this week, I received a ton of "I'm SO sorry... we'll catch up soons".

Although I appreciated her words, she's the kind of friend where no apologies are necessary. It's sweet of her to remind me she cares about us catching up, but she's on a rather short list of people who have already proven they care -- through fighting and making up -- through listening to all the details of my rather nonexistent love life -- through wanting to know the details, even if it means a LONG talk -- and who love me enough to just really listen and laugh with me.

Everyone has a battle they fight in life, and mine has been a bit of self-condemnation with a dash of social anxiety. Most people laugh if I reveal this -- because from a distance, I come off as confident and sure of myself. Especially from the distance of the stage. Watching me behind a guitar or a keyboard, most never know that it is a sheer act of will and leap of faith for me to get up there. It seems the the things we're most passionate about - for me, worship - sometimes take the most courage to pursue. God is growing me... hopefully it won't always be this scary.

As I've gotten older and understood my heart and mind a bit more clearly (and most of all, how God already sees me in His grace), it's gotten easier, and second-guessing thoughts don't hold me back in the ways they used to. Even so, it is a beautiful rarity to find someone with whom I'm genuinely comfortable. Where I don't have to weigh my words, where I don't have to think through how will I come across if I share this part of me... I can just BE.

Such freedom. Such uninhibited joy. These are the gifts my friends bring to me.

Carly, you are beautiful and kind and have no reason for apologies. Whether it's this week or a month from now, our catch-up talk will happen, and I'm looking forward to hearing all the little details, all the ups and all the bummers. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for letting me be me and for loving me for it. Never feel like you're not missed up here.

There are others -- You know who you are -- please know as well how precious you are to me. I try to say it often -- but I guess one more time can't hurt. You are loved.

pretty fly for a white guy...

Dug the movie.

Matt Damon, another demonstration that you know how to pick 'em. Props to you. Pretty good for a movie - period - but a sequel? Good work.

The year of non-sucky sequels is evidently upon us. Shrek 2, Spiderman 2, Bourne Supremacy, Oceans 12, (Meet the Fockers??)... overall, not too shabby.

Even though the shaky camera work gave me a slight headache - was good stuff. The Bourne director-types know how to craft a good car chase scene, that's for sure. There's a piece to the plot that I KNEW HAD TO HAPPEN... was bummed because I knew it would happen... and then, like watching a train wreck, I watched it happen. Bummer. But necessary bummer.

Might have to catch Collateral as well. I love Tom Cruise when he's the good guy, but I LOVE him even better when he's bad. His white hair freaks me out, man.

Saw this preview for a movie with Julianne Moore (and the male lead from Mona Lisa Smile...) called The Forgotten. Looked very cool/smart/intriguing. Can't wait for it to come out.

OK folks... time for this chica to vamanos. (I know that's not correct spanish, but yo no remember-o my espanol desde el escuela de los kitsap-o central.)

Vaya con Dios!

tgif... the big ten

Alrighty... it's Friday, so here are the things I'm thankful for:

(I find that it's easier to be grateful on a Friday...)

1. There's nothing I have to do tomorrow. An actual weekend. I would jump for joy, but I'm too tired. Inwardly, however, I am one bundle of unrestrained enthusiasm.

2. After a crazy hectic work week, everyone started playing nice again today.

3. It poured rain today and I could hear it on the roof at work as I drank some green tea (my favorite). My own little zen moment.

4. It was cold outside and rainy, so I had tomato soup with Cheetos in it for lunch. Perfection.

5. Immediately after work, threw on some pj's and fell asleep for an hour and a half, listening to the rain on the roof.

5. Someone put me on their blog link list and called my site "Good honest spunky writing." If that doesn't make your day... Spunky I am.

6. Matt Damon. I mean, that my brother and I are going to see the Bourne Supremacy tonight once he gets off work.

7. Josh (of the Nerdery fame) said "attrition" in his weblog. I love it when people use good words.

8. I've been asked to continue writing small group materials for retreats, etc., for a church in Bham. Major compliment. (I wrote one for summer camp and apparently found my niche. I came alive writing that puppy.)

9. The Starbucks Double Shot commercial, set to Eye of the Tiger. "Glen! Glen, glen, glen! Glen glen glen! Glen glen glen... Glen's the man, going to work..." Commercials just don't get any better than that.

10. Kevin has rebegun his blog. Excellent... the war of words has begun.

looking up

There's this spot I always pass as I drive into Silverdale where I can see practically forever. The city looks much smaller than it actually is, and the trees give it a peaceful, serene quality. (Much more peaceful, say, than it feels on the main drag at 5 as everyone's getting off work. They're all hurrying, honking horns & noticing in the rear-view how tired and run-down they look). Looking straight ahead, past Silverdale and its self-important busyness, are acres and acres of quiet woods. They often resemble someone's painting - evergreen, then a bluish, and then fading into a hazy gray off in the distance before your eyes stray to the beauty of the rugged Olympic peaks.

If I look to my left, I have an incredible view of Dyes Inlet -- home to herons, bald eagles, gulls, and orcas -- and onetime refuge for me as a lonelier, younger version of myself. I grew up not far from there, and I'd often run down the path to where it met the water's edge for time to think. I would just sit there, my arms pulling my knees up tight into my chest to brace against the chill breeze. Just sitting. No one watching. No one expecting anything. No one to impress or disappoint. Just time to talk to God and listen to the water lapping up on the rocky shore. The only thing present to break the peace was a fish jumping or a bird singing. Welcome interruptions.

Tonight, a traffic light stopped me right in this very spot. And held me there. Normally, I'm annoyed to be the first one stopped, as it means that I wait the longest. Especially this week. I've been hurried, stressed, and troubled. So tangled up in my own knots that I've been unpresent to the moments and people around me. Not so tonight. I let myself look. I let myself stare for once at the beauty all around me, and I drank it up. The sun was just starting to go down, but the clouds were all shining gold. Rays shone down through the clouds, the kind that always make me feel that God's about to say something important, that some kind of big announcement is coming.

And as I just let myself be, God did say something important. (I've never heard God speak in the audible sense of it, but there are many ways to hear, and it may be that the heart hears best of all, in my experience). Take the time to look up, Stacey. I'm still here. In the midst of your circumstances, in the midst of your troubles, I am here. If you see only the busyness, the day-to-day, the mundane, the silent screaming of the world around you, of course your heart will be laid low. So look up! Look for Me... look for My perspective, and you will find hope. I am working in ways that you don't see, and often putting things together in ways you don't understand. But I am here, and I love you. Look up!

Corinthians 4.16-18 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

little snippets of my day...

PHOTOCOPIES

I spent TWO and A HALF hours today making photocopies. Two and a half. That's time I shall never get back, spent pulling out stubborn staples and pushing start. Over and over and over. Legal world, your copymaster is here... (I would say that I was Captain Kinko's at work today, but I said that to my friend Grace a year ago and still she mocks me, so on we go...)

It's a good thing I never finished earning my college degree, or I might have thought such activity beneath me. I pictured it in my head... "ME... a COLLEGE GRAD... making photocopies? Chaw!" Luckily, two car accidents later, I'm a college dropout, so thoughts about the injustice of meaningless activity never ONCE entered my mind. (I believe in finding the positive...) Actually, having a job that pays me to make photocopies for two and a half hours isn't altogether a bad thing. Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude. There's a million people (probably more than that) who would gladly trade me. So grateful, even for days filled with photocopies, I remain.

EDUCATING MOM ON THE NINJA RING SCAN

Tonight I explained to my mom a little thing I like to call "the ring-scan." Single girl's best friend. She laughed, but I was serious. (I hope it's not just me... or else this post could be quite embarrassing). But am I right, single-girls-past-twenty, that when you meet someone new of the male gender who is also of legal age, you casually, imperceptibly, no -- stealthily -- scoop a quick glance at a particular finger of the left hand? I find that this is a bit of a habit, regardless of whether or not I am even remotely attracted to said male of legal age. It just helps to know right off the bat, you know?

Not that I've employed the ninja ring-scan move lately, of course. I was just explaining a concept... that's all. Nothing more to say in the matter.

Stop judging me. You know you do it too!

Always remember - Drinking and shotguns in your pants don't mix!

Worthy of the Darwin Award...

The Associated Press
SHEFFIELD, England - A man who shot himself in the groin after drinking 15 pints of beer and stuffing a sawed-off shotgun down his trousers was jailed for five years Tuesday for illegal possession of a firearm.

David Walker, 28, underwent emergency surgery after the March 6 incident in Dinnington, northern England. Tests were continuing to learn if Walker would be left infertile, his lawyer Gulzar Syed said.

“He still feels quite severe pain,” Syed told Sheffield Crown Court, adding that some pellets still were lodged in Walker’s groin area. Walker had admitted one charge of possession of a prohibited firearm at a previous hearing.

Prosecuting lawyer Andrew Hatton told the court Walker had gone home to get the shotgun after arguing in the pub with lifelong friend Stuart Simpson about whose turn it was to buy a beer. As he was returning to the pub, which had closed by then, he accidentally fired the weapon.

“He had it shoved down his trousers,” Hatton said. “After the shotgun had discharged he placed it in a rubbish bin and crawled back to his home.”

Walker told officers he was so drunk he had no idea how he managed to shoot himself and why he had gone home for the gun.

Judge Robert Moore said recent legislation regarding banned weapons meant he had to impose the statutory five-year minimum sentence. “The shooting of yourself is plainly an exceptional circumstance which is capable of reducing the sentence,” Moore said. “But in this case, I am quite certain, it does not justify reducing it below the statutory minimum.”

© 2004 The Associated Press.

Testing, testing, one two three...

Just trying to figure out this
goofy font stuff with
trying to fix html.
I am so computer illiterate!

Doh! Outsmarted by a four year old...

Kids make you dumber. Proof positive - WWIII last night. Objective: Bedtime. I failed miserably. But laughed all the way home. I got SO scammed...

Me: OK, Wolfie, it's time for bed... (birthname: Wolfgang, just in case you were confused)
W: But, um, but um, Miss Stacey, I want to read another story.
Me: (not really minding, having felt guilty about the ten-pager I just read him) OK.
story read, pj's on, CD playing, nightlight on, special blankie in place...
Me: OK, time for bed...
W: But is it dark outside?
Me: It will be soon. Hop on up there.
W: But mommy and daddy will wake me up after I've had one rest, right?
Me: Yes, they will.
W: I want my mommy and daddy now.
Me: (dang it) They'll be home soon. But you have to rest first. You don't have to sleep, you just have to lie down and close your eyes for a while.
W: OK. (as I almost reach the door) But Miss Stacey! MISS STACEY! Come back!
Me: What?
W: You forgot to sing and pray.
Me: (like I'm going to squelch a child's spiritual development... MAN this kid is good) Jesus loves me this I know...
(song and prayer done)
Me: OK Wolfie, I think you're all covered. Goodnight! (beating a quick path to the door, shutting it, making it halfway down the stairs)
W: MISS STACEY! MISS STACEY!!!!!! (wails, crying)
Me: What, Wolfie?
W: You didn't hug me!
Me: Yes I did. Two minutes ago.
W: No you didn't.
Me: Yes I did. I remember.
W: No you didn't (puppy eyes, aligator tears).
Me: OK, climb back up there, and you'll get ANOTHER hug. (You are scamming me, and I know it, but what else am I going to do? I can hear it now: "Mommy, Miss Stacey wouldn't hug me goodnight!")
W: OK.
(hug given, almost to the door)
W: (whimpery voice) Miss Stacey, can you make me warm and cozy?
Me: Sure. It's eighty degrees in here, but let me tuck you in all nice and warm.
(five minutes pass...)
W: MISS STACEY YOU FORGOT TO TURN ON THE FAN!
(turn on the fan)
W: Stacey, will my mommy and daddy wake me up after I've had one rest, right? Yep, they'll wake me up...
Me: Yes.
(five minutes pass)
W: Miss Stacey, I have to go potty.
Me: No, you don't.
W: Yes I do.
Me: You went ten minutes ago. I heard you.
W: No I didn't.
Me: Yes, you did.
W: But I have to go again!
Me: No you don't. Back in bed. (and my life has reached a new low... I'm arguing with a four year old about his bladder) I don't really think you need to go, I think you're trying to stay up longer... back in bed.
W: OK.
(pause)
W: Can I have a drink of water?

Free to comment...

That's right folks... now you can comment without having to sign up for anything... Love to hear from you! (Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog).

SERENITY NOW!! SERENITY NOW!!

CURRENTLY PLAYING: Emerald Isle... relaxing irish music... ahh...

Is it Friday 5 pm yet? Please? (I could power a small city with my whining...) I be exhausted already. Really just feels like last week never ended... it was just extended by four days. Took some time tonight to relax and decompress. Watched 13 Going on 30... one of my new favorite chick flicks. (Kevin is enjoying the movie now as we speak... I swear, Jennifer Garner could star in a movie with Barney, and as long as she's in it, he'd watch it) Then made tea and had Lili over for a little venting/laughing.

Hopefully the time I took to slow down will show up in how I feel tomorrow, because today, truth be told, I was sorely tempted to punch something/someone in the face. Things get crazy all at the same time, you know? Crazy schedule, crazy boss, crazy load on your plate...

Lately, Lil and I have a new way of expressing this stressed feeling. It's probably not the most PC thing to do, but it's just between us, and it conveys more than words ever could... make a gun out of your fingers and either put the gun in your mouth or aim it at your temple. Isn't that sick? But in some very sad way it totally makes us laugh and cheers us up. It's our little reminder that no matter how stressed out we are, in the grand scheme of things, it just really isn't that bad. It all will pass.

Our circumstances, uncomfortable though they may be, are hopefully growing us and shaping us more into the women we want to become... All I know is, I'm blessed in the fact that I have a friend along in this internship that I can be real with, who stands by me even when I suck, and who finds my little comments amusing. I'm lucky.

I don't really have anything goofy to say or even remotely profound... I'm too tired. I'm finding that some days are just about continuing to move forward, even when you really don't feel like it, even when baby steps are all you can manage. Today, they were really all I could manage. (Is managing not to pitch a fit at work when things weren't going well considered a baby step? I hope so.)

OK I'm gonna go chat with the brothership before crashing. Hope your week's going well, and if it's been more on the bummer end of the scale, like mine has been... just remember... SERENITY NOW! (if SERENITY NOW makes no sense to you, do me a favor and watch a bit o' Seinfeld, wouldja?)

You're so vain... you probably think this song is about you...

So apparently I'm googleable. I checked my name on google today to see if my little site would come up...

I win. Hey, at least I'm at the top of someone's list, right?