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Archive for the ‘richness’ Category

I read a book called Lamb over the weekend.  The author, Christopher Moore, put together a hilarious take on Christ’s life as told by Christ’s best friend, Biff.  It was gritty and colorful (both in its telling and in its language – read: lots of swearing and sexual situations).

I loved that the story was gritty because I believe that life is gritty and raw.  I believe that more often than not, life is messy.  Life is change and evolution and growth and development and loss and loosely controlled chaos.

We are all on the verge of being tagged out of this great game of life – and yet we mostly live our lives with a somewhat misguided belief that we are immortal.  That’s why we’re shocked when something bad happens.

Sure, there are some of us who are better at faking the control.  There are some who might say, “aw, Em, cute – but I have this all wrapped up!”

But I believe for the rest of us, despite our best efforts, we often find ourselves putting out more fires during the day than checking things off of our “to do” lists – and that’s ok.  My dad liked to quote a Beetle (or someone) who said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

So I loved the grittiness of Lamb.

And I loved that Jesus had a sense of humor in the story.  Yes, the book still portrayed him as innocent, but I loved that his best friend taught him sarcasm (which he used very moderately in the book).  The Bible is great at telling us a lot about Jesus – what he did, his virtues and character – but I kind of wonder about his sense of humor.  Was he playful?  Did he ever play pranks on the disciples?  I wonder if he ever short sheeted Peter’s bedroll or teepeed John’s tent.  Did Jesus spend time on the banks of the Jordan, hanging out with his friends and pondering some of the great mysteries, like: if Elijah and Moses were in a cage match – who would win?

Why does it matter if Jesus had a sense of humor?  I dunno.  I guess I just like the idea of knowing the person of Jesus – I like to imagine what it would be like if Jesus walked in the door and said hello.  Would he have a booming voice or a quiet disposition?  Would he shake my hand or give me a big hug?

I loved that Lamb painted a picture of Jesus that was so much richer than what I am able to glean from the Bible because so much of the Bible gets lost in cultural translation.  Perhaps there ARE elements of Jesus’ sense of humor embedded in the stories about Him – but humor in each culture is so subtle, it’s hard to pick up just by reading without studying the culture further.  And we all know that when you have to explain the joke, it really becomes less funny anway.  I am sure “That’s what she said” would be completely lost on ancient Jews.  And I can only imagine how future generations will interpret our jokes.

But I also felt convicted while reading Lamb.

Not because I was reading a story that was an irreverent and somewhat scandalous telling of Jesus’ life, but because as I read this story,  I was struck by Biff’s unbelief.  I don’t want to ruin the story in the case that you decide to read it, but generally speaking, I was surprised that this character Biff could literally WALK with Jesus for practically of his life and so miss the point on so many occasions.  It reminded me that I often miss the point.  It reminded me that I so frequently forget who Jesus is and get distracted by my own selfish desires.

I don’t know if the author intended for this result – I think the author wrote this book to provide a humorous explanation for what happened to Jesus between the ages of 6 and 32.  And perhaps the author knew enough Christians to know how many of us often spend all of this time learning about Jesus and God and MISSING THE POINT; there are so many of us who KNOW much, but BELIEVE little.

The disciples didn’t always understand what Jesus meant, but they believed in Him.  They were willing to stake it all on Him.  They believed He was who He said He was.

So yeah – I liked Lamb. It’s not for everyone, but it’s great satire.

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vegas

We interrupt our regularly scheduled emotional roller coaster for a brief recap of our adventures in Vegas.

Day 1:

My mom arrived at 6:15 a.m. to take me to the airport.  She’s a peach.  She watched me give myself my trigger shot and then helped me wipe off the dripping blood and gently confirmed that I gave myself the shot in the vein and “man, it’s already bruising!”  Awesome. Uneventful (blood-free) time at the airport.  Had a snack.  Got on the plane.  Mechanical issue.  Lovely. Had some soda (delish).  Arrived in Vegas.

First of all, Vegas wants your money.  If you didn’t know that about Vegas, they make it apparent the minute you step off of the plane.  “Emmmmily – oh, Emmmmmily!  Come play our slots!  Your bags are going to take a while – have  a seat, get out some quarters and let the good times roll!”

My will power was too much for them.  I walked past the slot machines with hardly a backward glance.  Hardly.

I picked up my bags at the carousel, called Frank and got on a shuttle to the Bellagio.  Arrived at the Bellagio, found husband, changed, went on a mission for food.  Emily was VERY hungry.  Mmmm.

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Then we proceeded to walk most of the strip, all the way up to the Venetian.  This is one place where one block of walking equals 12 blocks.

We saw 10,234 slot machines on our little adventure.

The below picture is us being awesome at the Venetian.

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The nice thing about the Venetian: indoors and air conditioned.  Dry heat is still heat, my friends.  Don’t give me crap about dry heat when it is 105 degrees outside.  Heat is heat.

I was glowing (or perspiring like a mo-fo).

After our sweaty trek, we went back to the hotel and got ready for dinner.  Because we are connoisseurs of the buffet, we were naturally looking forward to tables and tables of meat and cheese and other delightful confections.  First stop: the Wynn Buffet.

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This picture is me trying not to be too obvious about how hungry I am.  This is at the atrium of the Wynn hotel.  It was my favorite hotel in Vegas, hands down.

And this picture, well, this is me preparing to eat my husband for dinner.  And I don’t mean it like that.  Well, maybe I do.  You tell me: is this a “come hither” look or is it a “I want my dinner” look?
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Finally, after 45 minutes of hoping and dreaming and praying that we would one day be at the front of the line – we were!  Eureka!

Our delight over our first meal resulted in two of the only food photos of the trip, but I am not going to post those here.  I don’t want anyone to be jealous (and also, Frank didn’t upload them to our Flickr account – dirty!!)

Then we walked back from the Wynn and decided to try to take in a very scandelous free show outside of Treasure Island.  Lots of gyrating female and male dancers in skimpy clothing.  Good thing people brought their kids.  “Hey kids, look what you can be when you grow up!”  Awesome.

Anyway – here is me outside of the Wynn.  Love. It.

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And ladies, don’t get jealous – he is all mine:
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Then we stopped at the Bellagio to take in the famous fountain display. For a desert, that sure was a lot of water.

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And then… bed time.  Cuz we party like rockstars, yo.

Day 2:

Got up, tried to go for a run.  While Vegas is a town that accepts only beautiful people (naturally attained or otherwise), they sure don’t want to do a lot to help you get beautiful.  Because when you are running on a treadmill, you can’t play the slots.  And if you are not drinking or gambling, they are not making money.

What I am trying to say is that the fine folks at the Bellagio wanted us to pay $50 for both of us to use their fine workout facilities.

No. Thanks.

Instead, I opted to sit at the pool and consider life. And read a saucy romance novel.

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And here we are together, hanging out by the pool. Frank is trying not to angry about the lack of frosty beverages in his hand.
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Once we were finished with being awesome poolside, we decided to enjoy yet another buffet. Mmmm.

And then we walked the strip.  In the Dry Heat.  Not so dry when you’re sweating through your socks, though.

Which leads us to Caesar’s Palace.  “Caesar, let’s go that way!” “No, Frank and Emily, let’s go THAT way!” Well, the Roman empire is no more, so I guess we all know how it turned out. Should have listened to us, Mr. Caesar.

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Frank asked the Egyptian Santa for a flat screen TV for Christmas. We will see if Egyptian Santa delivers.   (I’m not betting on it – he looked a little shady)

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And then, in the middle of the desert, we have the NYC skyline:
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Later that night, after I showered (again), we went out to the Palms.  The Palms was very cool.  We went up to the Playboy Club (which was more tame (visually speaking) than any of the casino bars, by far) and had a cocktail.  Then we headed over to the other tower of the Palms and went up to the Ghostbar, which was Frank’s favorite bar of all.  He was giddy with excitement.  Giddy.  I’m not kidding.  Have you ever seen Frank giddy?  Well, I have.  This is what it looks like:

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I know. I wish he’d just calm down.
And here are more pics of Vegas from that night:
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Day 3
The Grandest Canyon of them all. And probably the best day of our trip. I loved, loved, loved it. Except for the part where I almost puked. And the part where we got stuck in the rain. But whatever – a small price to pay, in my opinion.  I’d do it all over again (but with an umbrella).

Our airplane:
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The Hoover Dam (ha ha):
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A view from the ground:
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“Emily, look off into the distance at the other side of the Grand Canyon, really feel it. Work it. Noice.”
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We were RIGHT. THERE. We were here, and the Grand Canyon was right THERE. Whoa.
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Oh, and then it rained.
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But the storms made for some cool views on the way back.
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Tired, mostly dry (but a little wet), we made our way back to our hotel.

Because seeing one of the most magnificient wonders of God’s creation wasn’t enough for one day, we also went to see Cirque du Soleil’s “O”. “O” is the phonetic speaking of the french word “Eau” which means “water.” (Not sure why I used all the quotes, but really – if you stayed with me this long, you probably don’t care. You probably just want me to end this torturous play-by-play of our vacation and put you out of your misery. Quotes are the least of your problems if you made it this far.) Anyway, the point being, the stage was water. Or, more accurately, it was a pool with an adjustable floor that went up and down depending on the scene.

“O” reminded me of two things: 1) I am not flexible. The most daring feat I accomplish is touching my toes. Touching my toes while balancing on the forehead of a woman who is balancing all of her weight on her big toe, which is securely placed on a trapeze – well, that’s why they made the Darwin Awards. 2) I am a spoiled brat. After the first two amazing sequences where people were swinging through the air, attached to another human being by only the friction created by their leg hair and their abnormally strong big toes, I started to be less impressed with, say, diving off of a several story platform, into a pool of water. I can barely bring myself to jump into a pool from the side, much less a diving board SEVERAL stories in the air.

My own personal guilt aside, it was a beautiful show. I really enjoyed it.

Day 4:

Went home.

***

And I’m spent.  Thanks for reading about our Vegas adventure!

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Day Two – God is Gracious

I am definitely feeling better today than yesterday. Praise God!

I realized after talking to a few people that I am doing better when I am not talking to people about it. I know that sounds weird, but I feel at peace when I am not explaining how this all unfolded. When I try to explain the process of how I’ve gotten through it, it seems like well-meaning people seem to jump quickly to telling me why I am wrong or should think of it differently. And what I am trying to tell them is how I got from point A to point B. And yes, I know, I make mistakes along the way and I know that I could have a better attitude and I know that God’s will will be done. I know that whatever happens, I need to find a way to be at peace with it. And that is what I am working through.

I think the challenge is that I think externally and I think I need to learn how to manage this situation more internally before speaking. Sometimes I need to blog/write it down, sometimes I need to talk it out. And I am a planner. I like to have a lot of different possibilities and options on the table. I want to be prepared to deal with the worst and the best and everything in between. Some people organize their cupboards, others go running – but I fold laundry, hash things out with God and figure out all of the different rearrangements of my life.

When I get dealt this kind of situation, I crave information on it. I read blogs, I check WebMD, I soak up other people’s stories. I’d like to think that centuries ago, women did that same thing. Except they had a lot less science.

I have been loving my Chris Tomlin CD that I got at Women’s Retreat Fall of 2007 (where Margot Fiesler said, “You are either in a crisis, coming out of a crisis or going into a crisis.”) The lyrics that are sticking with me tonight are, “Oh Great God, be glorified, Our lives laid down, Yours magnified, Oh Great God be lifted high.” I hope that through all of this, God will be glorified.

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Being Jacob

So I knew that today was likely to be difficult, but part of me thought that we would just sort of “hammer out” treatment options and everything would be all set. That is simply not how it went.

Let’s start at the beginning. Wednesday I received a phone call from my doctor’s office. When you have pending test results, a phone call is not a good sign. Really, you want your doctor to send you a card in the mail or post the results online – you do NOT want a nurse to leave you a message to call back. And the message was vague, also not what you want. When I called back, the nurse let me know that my testosterone levels were slightly elevated and that the doctor wanted me to come in to discuss treatment options.

What does slightly elevated testosterone even mean??

So I asked the nurse and she let me know that it meant that I likely had Poly-Cystic Ovary Syndrome. My response at first was, “Oh, ok.” After hanging up, I thought, “Wait a second, I don’t even know what that means!” Using trusty WebMD.com and Google, Frank and I quickly understood that PCOS is what it sounds like – I am growing cysts on my ovaries and this is causing a disruption in my hormone levels and might lead to infertility.

This morning I went in to meet with Dr. K (my ob gyn, not my father-in-law) to discuss the ramifications of PCOS. Frank was kind enough to text me a few last minute questions for the doctor since he couldn’t be there.

Dr. K’s office is very spa-ish. Most doctors’ offices are very clinical, but the practice that I go to is very cozy, in my opinion. Dr. K is a tallish woman – about 5’9″ or so and very thin. She’s probably in her late 30’s and is very professional and collected. I think I like that she is collected because if nothing else, you want a doctor who has her wits about her. She reminds me of my last doctor in Wisconsin (who I LOVED – Dr. L).

Anyway – at first the nurse had me sit up on the exam table and prepared to take notes, but when I let her know I was here for a follow up, she nodded, folded up her lap top and went to get Dr. K. I felt silly sitting up on the exam table, so I opted for the 3/4 size chair. That’s the thing – because I am tall, some of these waiting room chairs seem like they are almost big enough… but not quite. Anyway, I sat there, playing brick-breaker, waiting for Dr. K.

When she came into the room, she was reading through my information. “Ok, well, it looks like you were having irregular periods and your testosterone levels came back slightly elevated. Ok.” She sat down in her doctor chair with her laptop.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Well, some people just have higher levels of testosterone. And some people who are very heavy can have hormone levels that are not in line. And sometimes people might have PCOS.” That last option she said a little slowly. She said a little bit more about PCOS – all stuff I learned on WebMD.

“So are you saying that you think that I have PCOS?” I finally asked.

“Yes, it would appear that you have a few of the symptoms. Now if you weren’t trying to get pregnant, we would put you on birth control to try to help control the hormone levels. But since you are, we’ll want to get you enrolled in our fertility program and considering clomid and meta (something – can’t remember the drug – but it treats type 2 diabetes).”

“Ok, so is this what you are recommending as treatment? I should enroll in the fertility program?”

“Yes – they will check your insurance and confirm what is covered. Now the fertility program does require that you are able to get ultra sounds, blood draws, and your husband will have to do a semen analysis [joy]. With your husband’s schedule, you’ll need to determine how committed you are to getting pregnant.”

“What do you mean?”

Dr. K: “Well, you will be on clomid and you’ll need to be able to be together on your ovulation days. It doesn’t make sense to put you on the drug and then risk him not being around. You could maybe stagger the months if you know he’ll be around and not take it on the months that he won’t be around. You will just need to see how committed you are to this.”

Me: “Since his schedule isn’t very reliable or consistent, are there other options? I don’t want this to drag on and get expensive and find out at the end of it that we’ll just ahve to do IVF.”

Dr. K: “Well, we can certainly look at insemination [ugh] and try to time it out. We don’t let this go longer than 6 cycles before we refer you to a fertility specialist if it’s not going well.”

There was more to our conversation than that, but that gives the gist of it. I am going to work to control my diet and eat better to help manage the hormone levels, but it sounds like we will need to get the help of professionals in order to have a family.

Writing it down like that sounds so matter-of-fact: We will need to get the help of professionals in order to have a family. Considering how rational that statement sounds, what happened after the doctor’s appointment was anything but.

I made it to my car and sat down, fighting tears. I called Frank to tell him what the doctor said and found it difficult to say the words. Even though I had prepared myself for the conversation with the doctor – even though I knew we’d probably have to start some rounds of clomid and get more blood work and tests, the reality of the situation hadn’t fully sunk in.

The thing about Frank and I is that we have been having the SAME fight for about 7 years. I think he is insensitive and he thinks I am too sensitive. We communicate alright normally, but when it comes to situations like this that are so incredbily emotional for me, I struggle to put my words and thoughts into rational sentences. I also need Frank to talk to me with empathy and emotion. And really, I needed him to be at that doctor’s appointment today and he wasn’t able to be there.

So I started to tell Frank about our appointment with the doctor and started to tell him about the treatment. He asked a question he believed to be totally rational and positive, “Do I need to be there on the exact days you ovulate for clomid treatments?” And like a rocket, I went off.

See, to Frank, he was saying, “This isn’t bad news, even if I can’t be there exactly on the right days, we have a chance.” What I heard was, “I hope you don’t expect me to make this my #1 priority and drop everything to be there for this.”

Even though we were discussing logistics, I was still processing this tremendous amount of sadness in my heart about this whole situation. I wanted Frank to say, “Babe, we are going to get this taken care of. Don’t you worry about it. Whatever we need to do, we will make it work.” And in his way, that’s what he was trying to show me through finding all of the opportunities for this to work.

After having a conversation that was basically Frank telling me not to be dramatic about the situation and me telling him to have a heart, we left it off on bad terms. I went to get my hair cut and colored, hoping that beautifying myself on the outside would somehow help lighten things on the inside – but no dice.

I left the salon between scattered thunderstorms and drove home. My cell phone decided not to work the entire way home. I was so annoyed. Ah, the injustice of having to listen to the radio instead of talking on my cell.

When I made it home, Frank called to clear the air. He was right on some things and I was right on others, but in the end, we were still in this place of “what next?”

I recognize that this is not the end of the world. I definitely do. We could get pregnant quickly on clomid. Or maybe we won’t. But there is still a good chance of something working out.

So after I hung up with Frank, I went downstairs to fold laundry and cry. I was crying so hard, that it was difficult to breathe and for a moment, I thought I might throw up (but thankfully, I didn’t).

With the news today, I just have an overwhelming feeling, as though I am standing at the base of a mountain, looking up. The fact that others before me have climbed this mountain is not as comforting as you would think. Yes, the fact that others can do it is fantastic! But there are so many people who get stranded on a summit or at an impasse. There are so many people who start climbing this mountain thinking it’s a day trip and it slowly turns into days, weeks, months and years before they realize that they can’t go back down, either. The costs of infertility are staggering and so many people rack of thousands of dollars in bills before they even get to the cost of IVF.

I don’t want to get caught in the avalanche of fertility. I don’t want to get pulled under and surface, only to find that I am in my late thirties and no closer to having a family than I was 10 years ago.

My mom is always telling me not to be stressed out, or we won’t get pregnant. When she says that, I get even more stressed out. But what if this is because of stress? Or what if it is because I’ve put on some weight? How ridiculous is it that I put cookies and treats ahead of having children?? Or what if we waited too long? I’m still young, but maybe we would have had a better chance a few years ago instead of right now.

Because I am well-read and educated, the thing that came to mind when thinking about this was in one of the Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis, the Lion (symbolizing God) says, “I don’t tell people what should have been, but rather what it was.” (totally paraphrasing) And that was comforting to me because there is nothing I can do about anything except what I have in front of me now.

So while I was in the basement, folding laundry and crying, I was arguing with God. Well, at first I was actually arguing with Frank at first. But then I realized that I wasn’t actually arguing with Frank. I was wrestling with God.

Why, God, does this have to happen on YOUR timeline? Why can’t this happen on my time line? Why is this so hard? Why are you making this difficult? Why?

And with that line of questioning, a whole bunch of images came back to me from this past week. God had been talking to me and preparing me for today, all week.

The biggest preparation was in His word. Our small group is reading Gensesis and we were on chapter 32 Thursday. That chapter is about Jacob wrestling with God. At the end of the “match,” God wrenches Jacob’s hip from his socket. See, God loved Jacob enough to wrestle with him.

Here I am, asking God why I can’t have a baby now. God is sovereign, the God of the universe and the Creator of all things. And I am crying in my basement, while I fold laundry, angry that my heavenly Father did not give me a baby today. What?? And God is so gracious that he heard me out before I even spoke. God is so faithful that He prepared me this week to know that it is OK to wrestle with Him. It is OK to be Jacob for a while. And at the end of wrestling, God is still God and I am still me.

After God dislocated Jacob’s hip, Jacob asked for God’s blessing and God changed Jacob’s name (which meant deceiver) to Israel (wrestles with God). And so my thought is that maybe after wrestling with God, I will be changed and I will be renewed. Jacob still screwed up after wrestling with God (we will get to that next week!), but God is still God.

So after I cried in the basement (and ate some ice cream), I came upstairs and grabbed my 2 liter of Diet Cherry 7-up and crawled into bed. I watched Ugly Betty. And then I wrote this post. And the song in my head right now is, “God of wonders, beyond our galaxy, you are holy, holy, the universe declares your majesty, you are holy, holy, Lord of Heaven and Earth. Early in the morning, I will celebrate the Light, and as I stumble in the darkness, I will call Your name by night.”

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what is happy vs. joy?

I have been thinking on this a lot. I have been asking people what they think about it, too.

What is happiness?

I think happiness is an emotion. And I have learned that emotions are temporary. Ask anyone who has ever had a fight with someone they loved. The anger is real and fiery – and by the next morning, it almost always vanishes. Any remnants are just smoldering, and everything is much more manageable the next day. If such a powerful, all-consuming feeling like anger is temporary, then to me, it stands to reason that happiness is just as fleeting.

So, why pursue happiness if it is just an emotion?

I think what we are really pursuing is joy. But I think joy comes from inside. Sometimes I do not always have The Joy (thank you, JLN), but it’s something that I am working on. Joy is more useful, I think, than happiness because joy is finding happiness in any situation and seeing the good in it. Sometimes I may not be smiling during these difficult times, but in my heart, I can see the good and I can be thankful. Unfortunately for me, I struggle with joy during difficult times (as many people do, I am sure). I am a striver. I am always looking for the next thing to do, the next place to go. Figuring out the next thing is always on my mind. But perpetually looking around the corner is not helpful in my quest for joy. Striving means that I am not finding the joy in what God has provided and it means, for me, that I am looking for satisfaction outside of the Lord.

But, to be clear, I don’t think that happiness is bad or wrong or un-acheivable. I think happiness is very real, but is a by-product of joy. But if you look at other uses for the word “happy” – it can also be synonymous for words like luck and fortune. But luck and fortune are arbitrary events that are outside of my control. And happy also describes quick, thoughtless action – ie. “trigger-happy.” If someone is trigger happy, there is a connotation that they are thinking very little about the consequences of their actions – they are not considering the long-term effects.

When I have joy in my soul, I am happy. Maybe not always happy. You know, like how a square is a rectangle, but a rectangle is not always a square?

I looked up joy in the dictionary and it actually had a verb tense which said: to rejoice, to be glad. You know what’s interesting? Happy doesn’t have a verb tense definition in the dictionary. I can HAVE a happy mood, but I cannot DO happy. According to the dictionary, I can joy in the Lord. Sure, it’s an old way of using the word joy, but it’s interesting to me that it is both a noun and a verb.

So, all of this reminded me that the apostles Peter and Paul both say to rejoice in all things, even though we suffer now, we know that there is a salvation that awaits us. And both urge us to find joy in suffering, because we are refined in fire.

As I mentioned, it is sometimes difficult for me to be joyful in my life sometimes. I don’t think this is unique, but I think it is often exacerbated by the fact that I sometimes have such a short-term view on life. I forget that my joy is not in finding material happiness in the next 30 days, but rather, my joy is in the Lord and from the Lord. He is eternal and I need to think of life in eternal terms and not in short-term time frames. But I am tired and I have a feeling that this will now balloon into further thoughts on eternal vs. immediate mindsets… So, more on that later.

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richness

I was thinking this afternoon/evening – what is the purpose of my blog? Why do I do it? Why do I try to make it about posting about the Bible and fail? Why do I try making it about posting about mundane life details and fail?

I realized, listening to the radio, that it has been a long time since I listened obsessively to a song. Music used to transport me to other times in my life or made what I was experiencing more full, more rich. And now, it’s a cute song with a funny lyric or a great sound, but nothing else. Sort of hollow. Even sitting here, typing, I’m not sure what to write because the words are pre-judged and wrecked before they even reach the screen. And I wonder why that is? Have I worked so hard to get the “stuff” done in life that I lost touch with the reflective, pensive side of life? Is it too hard to think of the things that have gone on?

It’s no secret that FK and I have had quite the year. Just a little over a year ago, my dad got very sick. And life was turned upside down. And FK lost his job. And started a new one halfway across the country. And now he might lose this job, too. None of this is of anyone’s doing. It’s all things that have happened to us. Maybe we could have reacted better, faster, quicker, blah. It’s all hindsight, anyway.

So here we are, stuck in this moment, this now. Every step we take feels thick with outcome. Will we have children? Will we move? Where will we work? What will we do? Who are we becoming?

And then I think back to stupid NPR. God sometimes talks to me through NPR (not kidding). I realized that I agreed with the statement that it’s not about living a successful life (generally measured by money and fame and glory) but rather a significant life. And what’s funny about the significance I mean to seek is that it is marked by the glory God is given as a result and not what is given to me. When you seek to have your life measured by those standards, it changes how you approach living.

I think a lot about how human I am. I make mistakes, I fall short of the glory. I fall short of others’ expectations, I fall short of standards. I make big mistakes, even if I meant not to. I make little mistakes, when I meant to do big greatness.

For the first time in a while, there is a song that I listen to daily. At first I thought it was so interesting that this song existed in the secular world because really – people who aren’t familiar with the Bible won’t really get the meaning of the words or the Biblical stories they are referring to. The song is Hallelujah by Kate Voegele. And funny enough, I just was reading Esther in the OT of the Bible and I thought it was interesting that it is a book that doesn’t mention faith much – but infers it throughout. I wonder if these themes are God saying to me how important it is to live in the world as a person of faith? And if so, it just reminds me of how important it is for me to do what God made me to do and how that is an important part of worshipping Him.

My dear friend VW told us that Christians would mark places where signficant things happened so that they would always remember what God had done in their lives. Maybe that’s the importance of having a blog: to mark these moments in my life. Hopefully by marking these moments, that gives God glory. And hopefully it’s these marked moments that will remind me of the richness of the blessings God has given me.

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