Note to fans of Tolkien, and/or me

I will be having a poem published in the Minas Tirith Evening-Star, the journal of the American Tolkien Society.

How. Cool. Is that???

I feel celebratory.

What is this feeling?

It's not sudden, but it is new, and I am savoring it.

Next week is Valentine's Day.

And I'm okay with that.

This is nothing less than a sea change in my perception of the holiday. In the past, a post on Valentine's Day would involve withering social commentary on the degredation of relationship, the shallow simperings of what our culture calls romance, and the undue pressures on single people to believe that they are less than okay on their own.

What has changed? Several things, but mostly it's that I've decided to live honestly. It's amazing how many things cease to be problems when you're just honest with yourself about their existence and stop trying to live up to some wacked ideal you made up.

In the past, I did feel on some level (though I didn't acknowledge this honestly to myself until a few months ago) that I was failing by not living up to the American/Family/Church/Whoever's Dream of marriage and children. I got mad at other people, mad at myself, mad at Valentine's Day, etc. A friend of mine once told me that anger is a masking emotion--that when you're angry, you should stop and examine what's really going on. Well, fear of failure on the level I was experiencing it (i.e. failure as anything ever going anything other than how I thought it should) is a pretty big thing to mask, so no wonder there was a lot of anger.

Now that I'm being honest about what I was hiding, I am able to address it and to bring all the voices in my head into a steady coexistence. It goes something like this:

Voice #1: I'm a failure for not dating.
Voice #2: No, I'm not. That's stupid sentimental trash. In fact, I'm actually a failure for feeling like a failure.
Voice #3: I'm afraid of commitment.
Voice #1: No guys like me.
Voice #2: Who needs them?
Voice #3: All kinds of guys like me. And if I were dating any of them, there would probably be temptations to exclude other people, and also probably a lot of talking about The Relationship. As it is, any and all of my guy friends and I can have detailed conversations about the relational complications on, say, The Office or Smallville.
Voice #1: I guess I do like that better.
Voice #2: You know what I like? Episodes without Lana angst.
Voice #3: Oh, I so know what you're talking about....

And in such a way is mystical oneness achieved.

I like being honest with me.

Outrage of the Day

When I renew my license plate this year, they’re going to force me to get a NEW license plate. I like the blue with the white letters. A lot. This is the plate of my entire life, and now they are taking it away from me because they say blue on white is easier to read.

(See, Brittany, life is difficult even after college.)

It’s a good thing I found out about this now. I have 5 months to get used to the idea. And to prep my brain for remembering a new plate number.

Speaking of which, one of the first things I asked my boss when he told us his Secretary of State woes was “Am I going to have to have a new license plate number, too?”

“Noooo,” he said. “They’ll just flip through their files and find out which one you have. Or maybe they can make you one just like it.”

“Right,” I said. “Retract stupid question.”

Then he emailed me later with this:

I just emailed the secretary of state to ask her if you could get the same license plate number when you come in to renew your tabs later in the year. She said that she can’t make any promises but told me to tell you to pay a visit to Rocko Scarcello in cell block # 9 at the Jackson state prison, he might be able to help you out.

Anyway (Martina McBride)

You can spend your whole life building something from nothing

one storm can come and blow it all away

Build it anyway

You can chase a dream that seems so out of reach and you know

it might not ever come your way

Dream it anyway

~~~

God is great, but sometimes life ain't good

And when I pray it doesn't always turn out like I think it should

But I do it anyway, I do it anyway

~~~

This world's gone crazy and it's hard to believe that tomorrow will

be better than today

Believe it anyway

You can love someone with all your heart, for all the right reasons,

and in a moment they can choose to walk away

Love 'em anyway

~~~

God is great, but sometimes life ain't good

And when I pray it doesn't always turn out like I think it should

But I do it anyway, I do it anyway

~~~

You can pour your soul out singing a song you believe in that

tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang

Sing it anyway, sing it anyway

~~~

I sing, I dream, I love, anyway

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam."

Today I made a call for work and heard that I had reached an office in Stamford, Connecticut.

If the guy who picked up after that had been named Andy, I might have lost it.

"Are you a cast member of any popular prime-time sitcoms?"

Today I received the following survey:

Subject: Love in the Leasing Office: Apartments.com Survey

---------------------------------
Apartments.com -

What Renters Want

Apartments.com wants to know what renters want! To find out, we'd like to get your opinion on various topics that are important to renters. This month, to help celebrate Valentines Day, Apartments.com wants to know the juicy details of your love life as a renter.

Click the link below to answer a survey on "love in the leasing office." Answer questions like:

Have you ever dated someone that lived in your apartment building?

If you did, how did that relationship work out?

Have you ever had a crush on someone that worked in your building?

Your feedback is valuable! As a special thank you for completing this survey, we'll send you the results so that you can get a glimpse into the love life of other renters.

Thank you for your time and feedback!
-Your Friends at Apartments.com




First, and least importantly...shouldn't the first question say “someone who lived in your apartment building”?

The whole thing has a “check yes or no” flavor to it. It’s like they’re sending the survey because a friend of a friend thinks you’re cute and wants to know if you think he’s cute, and maybe you could go out for pizza sometime.

"I believe that it's going to be alright"

Tonight I went to a Sara Groves concert, and it was at my church, of all crazy places, and I bought two CD's, and I had one signed, and I got to meet Sara and shake her hand and thank her for her music, which has been so powerful in my life this past year, and, and, and, and.... I'm still geeking out.

If you have not yet heard the music of Sara Groves, give it a try. If you do not like singer-songwriter piano-playing types, at least look up some of her lyrics online. They are so rich in heart and truth. I have been quoting from Add to the Beauty for some time now.

I love her music because it inspires me not to settle for the ordinary, comfortable things. It reminds me that God's love is strong and effective, that God uses people (including the annoying people in my life and my own annoying self), that trials are temporary and grace is eternal. And now she reminds me of Breakthrough, too (now that I know that she was the one singing "Painting Pictures of Egypt," the one oft-played song at Breakthrough Training that I still wanted to hear again after the weekend was over). Together, they remind me that vulnerability may be scary and difficult, but that it is honest and alive and Christ-like in a way that personal fortress-building isn't.

In the past year or so, God has used Sara's words, and God has used Breakthrough, and God has shown His grace to me in so many ways and through so many people and circumstances. I have come up against things I was holding onto in my heart that were poisoning me and injuring my relationships with others. It hurt something awful, at times, but I'm so thankful He confronted me with truth—and that it is true that all things work to the glory of God, for the good of His people who love Him. I'm thankful for the ongoing process of confrontation. It may be difficult, and it may hurt, but as Sara Groves sings, "I can't remember a trial or pain he did not recycle to bring me gain."

Door #2

I confess. There are times when I do not care about you. Not as much as I care about who could be calling me on the phone (cell or otherwise).

Why am I a slave to a telephone ring? Is it because I think someone is calling with a revolutionary bit of information, something I need to know right away? And really, isn’t any information of that sort usually also the kind of information you really wish you had never had to hear in the first place?

Or is it that maybe that person will have something wittier to say than you will, or will be more willing to listen to me talk about myself, or will ask some question that shows they care about me more than you do?

While we’re on the subject, do I hate making phone calls because I don’t want to put people out, or because I’m afraid they will choose Door #3?

Goals for this year:

• Cut back on answering the phone when real people are right with me—especially since I have an answering machine for my land line and voicemail for my cell phone, and that’s sort of the point of having them. So I don’t have to answer the phone, but people can still tell me what they need/want to tell me.
• Make telephone calls with confidence.
• Whether in person or on the phone, grant others the honor of my full presence.

Strange Communications

This Christmas I received a Christmas voicemail from a complete stranger, or at least someone with an unrecognizable voice who did not identify himself. He hoped us guys were doing okay down here.

We are.

This reminds me that my uncle who works for the United States Postal Service told a story about how very recently somebody came around to various route worker stations asking if anyone had certain people on their route. Because they had been working with a very old letter sorter and found two letters stuck in there. From 1979. Imagine the bittersweet memories possible in the receipt of those letters.

Did you get barbecue on that?

(And don't try telling me I did it myself. You know I don't even LIKE barbecue.)

I got a Christmas present tonight. It made me laugh more than any Christmas present I've ever gotten.

Just for the record.

A Fear Realized

I went to the dentist tonight. I haven't been for a year and a half, but I have untouchable tooth enamel, so that was all right.

Except NOT.

I have a cavity. My first ever cavity. I am hyper-nervous now, as if my tooth may fall out at any moment. I have an appointment on January 4 to get it filled. The thought of getting a cavity filled terrifies me beyond the capacity for rational thought.

*whimper*

Please keep any dental horror stories to yourselves until this nightmare is over.

By Faith

Janessa sees the tide turning, the enemy vanquished, the battle won. She sees the power of the king at work in the land, and today she bore the news to another of his subjects, and so I bring it to you, and so it goes on, or not, as you choose.

She started me thinking about the stories in Scripture, and how many radical reversals there were, and how hopeless things appeared just before: Joseph's family starving in Canaan; Hebrews breaking their backs in a hostile land, helpless against the slaughter of their children; a widow returning to a home turned strange, accompanied only by a foreigner; the Philistines with the world's most powerful warrior on their side and the Israelites with a king cowering in a tent.

Who is it who's been telling you that things are only going to get worse? Don't you think that's what the disciples thought, watching their hope die before their eyes?

This could be the last moment before everything changes for the better.

Some People Change

Montgomery Gentry lyrics

His old man was a rebel yeller:
Bad boy to the bone.
He'd say: "Can't trust that other fella,"
He'd judge 'em by the tone of their skin.
He was raised to think like his Dad:
Narrow mind full of hate.
On the road to no-where fast,
Till the Grace of God got in the way.
Then he saw the Light an' hit his knees an' cried an' said a prayer:
Rose up a brand new man; left the old one right there.

Here's to the strong; thanks to the brave.
Don't give up hope: some people change.
Against all odds, against the grain,
Love finds a way: some people change.

She was born with her mother's habit:
You could say: "It's in her blood."
She hates that she's gotta have it:
As she fills her glass up.
An she'd love to kill that bottle,
But all she can think about,
Is a, a better life, a second chance,
An' everyone she's letting down.
She throws that bottle down.

Here's to the strong; thanks to the brave.
Don't give up hope: some people change.
Against all odds, against the grain,
Love finds a way: some people change.

Thank God for those who make it:
Let them be the Light.
(Let them be the light)
(Some people change.)
Here's to the strong; thanks to the brave.
Don't give up hope: some people change.
Against all odds, against the grain,
Love finds a way: some people change.
Some people change.
(Some people change)

Look! Up in the sky!

A weather service warning scrolling across the bottom of my TV screen alerted me that the Northern Lights had been spotted over West Michigan. The best place to view them from, I was informed, was from somewhere dark. Undaunted by the fact that I lived in an apartment complex, I raced downstairs to the parking lot. This was not an entirely bad notion, in that a) at least I was outside and b) the parking lot light is often burned out, in which case the parking lot feels very, very dark.

I exited through the front door and was looking up at the sky before I reached the sidewalk to the parking lot. There were no Northern Lights visible, and, perhaps in related news, the light in the parking lot was quite bright.

So I didn't get to fulfill my dream of seeing the Northern Lights. But I did see, out of the corner of my eye as I was gazing up earnestly, that the man out walking his two dogs across the way had started looking up, too.

That, along with the three constellations I recognized instantly, made my evening.

Church by any other name

Tonight I went to a two-hour long discussion on what kind of church building we might build/buy, and how we might work out logistics until we have such a building, and by the time I left the meeting I was in tears.

I don't think this is all church is. Is it? A building? Is church two Sunday services (different sermons, for the love of the Book of Church Order!), a half-hearted Sunday School class or two, a Wednesday night Bible study where all of the factual questions are answered "correctly" and all of the subjective "what does this mean for you" questions are met with reticence? This is how I've lived for so long, and really in some ways it's how I’m comfortable.

So why did I leave crying?

Because of the part of me that desperately longs for more out of church than attendance. Because of the part of me that fears more. Because I feel that the kind of church I've been living recently makes my worst nightmares possible.

Because I don't want a building, I want a family.

Defeating Lies

Today I finished reading a book called Waking the Dead, by John Eldredge. (See my reading journal for more on this book.) This afternoon at lunch I read a chapter on spiritual warfare. Eldredge doesn't state that Satan has unlimited power over believers, but points out that we grant him power when we agree to his lies, lies that can come from the outside or rise seemingly from within ourselves.

You're so stupid.

You're always like this.

You can never change; you'll always be this way.

You don't love God enough.

You aren't a good Christian.

You don't witness like you should.

You aren't who you should be.

Everybody is disappointed in you. Everybody wants you to be [fill in the blank], and you're not.

Nobody really cares about you.

Everybody's busy looking out for themselves. If you want anything to happen in your life, you have to do it yourself. The dwarves are for the dwarves.

You had your chance, and you blew it.

It's staggering to realize the quantity of things like this I've told myself over the years. But what if I wasn't the one telling myself? What if I am agreeing with an enemy? What if the people who have told me some of these things were unconsciously repeating lies that have invaded their own hearts? Aren't we free to disagree with the lies? And what if we agreed with a new voice?

You are honored.

You are precious, and I love you.

You belong to me.

Your heart has been cleansed.

You shine with the glory of God.

I have equipped you with everything you need to live; not just to survive, but to live.

You are free indeed.

Last Sunday, my pastor spoke of joy and obedience. "I think Reformed Christianity," he said, "has a problem with talking about" (and I knew where he was going with it) "obedience."

Wait...really? I was expecting "joy" to be that last word. In my experience, the point at which my Reformed Christianity has most been attacked is on this level of joy and obedience, and it's usually joy that gets pushed aside. If you're like me, talking about obedience has often been just another way of talking about failure.

"If you were everything you should be, which you're not and never can be, you could have joy. But since you're worthless, what you have is a sludging through this measly life hoping that God takes you out of it quickly, because joy is only available to perfect obedience, and thus only available in heaven."

That's what I've heard, from one source or another. I'm done with that.

Tomorrow is new. And so is the next hour--even the next second. I want to stand for truth, not fall to lies. I want to live. And since the Lord of all things defeated death on my behalf, that's just what I can do.

Who's with me?

Marooooned! (Almost.)

I just got inside from being stuck in the snow. In my parking lot. My car went over the edge of the parking lot (there is only dirt on the other side of the paved area, and the dirt is lower than the asphalt), and when I put it into reverse there was only a recalcitrant whirring noise as my tires tried and failed to grab traction.

As an obvious first resort, I called my family members, who are between 2 and 9 hours away. No answer. I seriously considered calling one of my two closest male neighbors (well, the two closest ones I know) to see if somebody could come saaaaave me, but I decided I wouldn't do that until I had exhausted all of my other ideas. For instance, I realize now I've heard that you can put your floormats under tires for traction purposes. I didn't have to use that idea, but I'm putting it out there so you can see the gears are working.

Using my ice scraper, I cleared the area behind my front tires. Success!

Also, what better place could there possibly be to get stuck than outside of your own house?

Practically Perfect Weekend

Over the past three days, I have done everything I didn't want to do. Which means, of course, that I actually did want to do it, I know, but what I mean is that when I would think about doing something and then think immediately about putting it off, I just did it.

I got So Much Done.

On Friday night, I went to Tim and Lisa's and spent the evening with the two of them and Brittany. Hilarity ensued. Then on Saturday, I had absolutely no appointments on my calendar. I did everything on my list of things to do for Saturday, plus two more things that had been on my list of "Things to Do Soon." My apartment hasn't looked this good since before I had friends in this town.

One more day of the weekend to go, and I'm sure today will be as good as the others. Happy Sunday, everyone!

My First Proposal

This weekend I had my first to-my-face proposal of marriage. From a 15-year-old boy. (Later, he clarified, "You know I was just kidding, right?" But I had picked up on that before the clarification.) Anyway, it was funny, so here it is:


Andrew: "Suzanne, will you marry me?"

Me: [after an abrupt, hysterical laugh] "No, but thank you for being so direct."

Jeremiah: "Not even if you were the last man on earth."

Andrew: "I've always wanted to be the last man on earth, just to test that out...."

How true that is....

In Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie says that children are carefree, and innocent, and heartless. Meanwhile, the adults love the children, despite all that the children are doing to hurt them without caring, without even considering.

Sir James sure knew his stuff.