Run Ladies Run!

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RUN LADIES RUN!

No, we’re not running for our lives, but we are running for a good cause. We will be coming together on August 5th to take part in the 4th Annual Lady Distance Classic, running or walking either a 5K or 10K course.

Why? It’s all part of D’VINE’s Big Ask campaign to raise money to open a not-for-profit coffee house in the Clifton area. This coffee house will be a gift to our community where people can get great coffee, grow relationships and experience community, and be creative or appreciate the creativity of others.

If you would like to partner with us, we are looking for financial sponsors to support us as we run like the wind (or maybe just a soft breeze). You can pledge by kilometer or in one lump sum. We would love for you to support us however you feel led. And feel free to come cheer us on!

I personally will be running the 10K. If you would like to provide support, either financially, praying that God would provide sponsors, and/or moral support at 7:30 am this Saturday, let me know! I'm #1541, or just look for the person running with death-defying speed :)

Spiritual Bulimia

I’m starving. Obsessed, I hunger and thirst for spiritual food, but with this obsession co-exists a great aversion to the very object of my desire.

I seek Him out, but moments of rest are so quickly overtaken by a battle that I can’t face. I turn and retreat.

I binge. I purge. I am left lonely and longing.

I am surrounded by lies, piercing and deflating the truth like arrows. The aim is too good. No doubt the archer is skilled.

He disputes my worth. He tells me I am alone. He tells me to give up, to walk away. He tells me nothing yet everything all at once.

His voice is persuasive; his volume too loud. And the lies of this world play an alluring accompaniment. From the horns comes “bitch,” from the strings, “ho,” from the woodwinds, “too much,” and percussion, “not enough.”

I rally to turn the channel, and I hear the contents of my heart sung to a less compelling rhythm.

Lord, I'm in the dark,
Seems to me the line is dead when I come calling.
No one there, the sky is falling;

Lord, I need to know.
My mind is playing games again,
You're right where You have always been.

Take me back to You,
The place that I once knew as a little child;
Constantly the eyes of God watched over me.

Oh, I want to be
In the place that I once knew as a little child,
Fall into the bed of faith prepared for me.

I will rest in You,
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You.

Tell me I'm a fool,
Tell me that You love me for the fool I am,
Comfort me like only You can,

And tell me there's a place
Where I can feel Your breath
Like sweet caresses on my face again.

Take me back to You,
The place that I once knew as a little child;
Constantly the eyes of God watched over me.

Oh, I want to be
In the place that I once knew as a little child,
Fall into the bed of faith prepared for me.

I will rest in You,
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You.

“I can barely hear you. Please grow louder.” 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…still not loud enough. Still not long enough. “Please don’t stop! I need to hear!”

“That is nothing, child, but a fruitless cry to vacated seats. He does not hear you. His do not hear you. Not you. Spit Him out. Spit them out. Vomit. Vomit!”

Spiritual bulimia…And with it, darkness obscures the horizon. Desperate, I reach back and grasp for something real. “What’s that?”

A still small voice is barely audible beneath the clamor... "What? Please…louder.”

“Eat, My child. Drink”

I long for solid food, but I will start with milk if I must. I will not spit it out, though the taste seems oddly bitter.

I will not forsake it, for I still believe it will not forsake me.

Please Endulge Me

Yes, now is the time for all of you who are waiting for me to write something incredibly profound and inspiring on this blog to...well, wait even longer. Sorry, but I feel I must now take on the role of unabashedly proud aunt, showing off these pictures of two of my adorable nephews. Seriously, who can resist these faces?

First, this is Joey. Joey is 2 years old now. Joey is (hopefully) wearing swim trunks specially designed by Walmart. As you can see, he is also sporting an amazing smile that my sister and I first saw when we finally met him at a South Korean adoption center last June. He has the most amazing personality and has had an incredible impact on so many lives already. Everyone say, "Hi Joey."

















Now, this is Tyler. Tyler is Joey's big brother at a ripe old age of 5. Tyler is much taller than the last time I saw him, which was unfortunately December (they live on the East Coast). Tyler, as you can see, has a girlfriend. Tyler is very smart and can probably almost read this. Tyler would then say, "I don't have a girlfriend you goofball." Goofball is his favorite derogatory name for other people (especially Daddy and Aunt Marsha), but that is probably so December by now.
















And this...well, this can't be a good omen, can it?

Be Afraid...Be Very Afraid

After what I just went through in the last half-hour and in similar calls over the last several weeks, I am seriously concerned that someday - it may be tomorrow or it may be years from now when I am old(er) and gray - I will find myself walking down the street or sitting in the park or otherwise minding my own business when, all of a sudden, it will happen.

I will hear a voice that has the misfortune of too closely approximating that computer-generated one used by Big Business and Big Health Care and all the other Big's to keep from having to have any personal contact with the people whom they serve. The one that makes us wait on the line, speak our 10-digit member number, says "sorry, but I think you said..." when you know you spoke perfectly clearly, and never gives you the option you needed in the first place. The one that never gives you even the opportunity to press something to be connected with a real live person unless you can generate the willpower to not press anything while Little Miss Computer says things like, "Sorry, I didn't get that" or "Remember, you need to press either 1 or 2 to indicate you choice" or something like that. And is it just me, or does her voice tone change ever so slightly to indicate increasing annoyance on her part? Like she's the one who should be annoyed in that scenario.

When I do someday come across that poor unsuspecting individual who sounds a little too much like this computer lady, I can only imagine the ire that will rise up in me. I can only imagine the strength of character and peace of God that will need to come over me to keep me from taking out on her all the bitterness that for me has become attached to that voice. It is like nails on a chalkboard (the ancestor of the white board for the younger generations out there).

Sometimes I swear I was born in the wrong time. It's time like these I wonder what it would have been like to live in the 1940's or 50's. I know I would have a very different lifestyle, but I think I look pretty good in high heels and pearls :)

Something Profound? Not So Much

So the fact that I think this video is hilarious and the fact that I actually understand not only what these people are singing about but also why they would be driven to do something so ridiculous officially makes me a nerd. I am finally accepting it.

Real Men of Genius

Bud Light (or not) presents Real Men of Genius
(Real Men of Genius)

Today we salute you, Mr. Hoot and Holler at Women Passing By Guy
(Mr. Hoot and Holler at Women Passing By Guy)

You are perhaps the greatest inspiration to women everywhere, using your primitive calls to bring joy to their days, even as you stand there in your wife beater t-shirt
(there’s ketchup on your t-shirt)

You spend your days thinking up new and different ways to make your voice into the perfect mating call to attract that very special woman of your dreams
(more like a nightmare)

Day in and day out women pass by and ignore you, but you aren’t deterred
(I think she might like me)

It’s true, it’s never worked before, but those were just bitches anyway
(maybe if I call her “sweetheart”)

So open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. King of Carnivals and Construction Sites. Because if one guy can use his voice to let other men know just how not to treat women, we are glad it’s you
(Mr. Hoot and Holler at Women Passing By Guy)

To Love or Not To Love

"Well said, teacher," the man replied. "You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices." When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, "You are not far from the kingdom of God." And from then on no one dared ask him any more questions.
Mark 12: 32-34

When God commanded us to love our neighbor as ourselves, do you think he meant to include inept customer service personnel? You're probably going to say yes, aren't you?

God, sorry for today. Help me to love you more, experience the true freedom of your love, and love others through both easy and difficult situations. It can only go up from here.

Yard Sale Mayhem

Does anyone recognize this guy? It's the many sides of Steve Bragg. And, as you will see, I mean that quite literally.

The pose that sold this old washing machine.

Can you believe someone gave these beauties away?

Wow, if the first one didn't convince you...


These light fixtures never sold, but Courtney and Steve gave it a valiant effort.

Confessions of an Emotional Voyeur

I like to watch people in crowds and ponder their interactions with each other. I especially like to observe people when they are having a personal moment – either a positive or a negative one.

I like to study people’s faces to look for their real, possibly unspoken reactions to situations.

I like to stare at the scene of an accident in order to see what kind of tragedy has occurred, and then I ponder how it may affect the lives involved.

I like to ask people questions that get at the root of what they are thinking and feeling. I just think we too often hang out on the surface and miss out on all the wonders that can be found beneath.

And I like to read people’s blogs in order to learn about them, including stuff they don’t share in person. And this creates for me a level of intimacy with the person. For the people who are willing to share that level of intimacy, it doesn’t turn out to be a problem – just another avenue with which to draw closer to one another in friendship. And for people I don’t really know anyway, it’s not a problem because I don’t really have an emotional investment. It then becomes a way of creating a more limited relationship. But for people who are in my life but not otherwise willing to share and discuss the things they blog about in person, it’s an emotional disparity that I find myself on the losing end of. It’s a form of relationship that leaves me feeling empty and let down.

And I worry that we might be becoming a blogging generation that is losing out on real emotional intimacy. I think that blogging can create and even enhance relationships. But I also think, if allowed to, it can become a second-rate replacement for true relationship. Emotional voyeurs are especially vulnerable. *

So, hi. I’m Marsha. And I’m an emotional voyeur.

And everyone says, …”Hi Marsha...”

*The contents of this blog have been previously discussed with people in my life and thus are not themselves an example of emotional exhibitionism and voyeurism through blogging.

My Birthday and Other Minimally Important News

First of all, thanks to all of you who remembered my birthday. I was honestly going into the day not expecting many people to remember or respond, so thanks to all of you who took the time to do so!

Here are some random thoughts and ponderings that have crossed my mind so far today, inspired by watching CNN and Channel 9 at the gym while preemptively working off these double chocolate chip birthday cookies I am treating myself to. As you can see, it has been a busy thinking day. I guess birthdays do that to you. The scary thing is that most of mine occurred prior to 7am this morning. It is scientific fact that our circadian rhythms shift so that we wake earlier and earlier in our old age. Crap- it has begun :)


Lessons from a Foot Fetish

This is a story I only caught the tail end of after scanning the multiple TVs in front of me and seeing closed caption that caught my attention and caused me to tune in the audio. Basically, this woman was being interviewed because apparently, while unlocking the doors of her car to get in, she felt something licking her foot. Understandably, she assumed it was a dog or some sort of animal, and she looked down. What she saw was not an animal - at least not the kind she was thinking. What she saw was a man, hiding under her car and licking her foot - a man who apparently has a pretty significant foot fetish.

Now, just to get this out of the way, I do believe this is weird and disturbed and all that stuff. I am not endorsing it. I don’t want to go out and start having weird sexual attachments and addictions, and I don’t want to be the object of said weird addictions for anyone else. However, you gotta at least admit this guy had passion. I mean, he knew what he wanted and he went for it. He was trapped under a car with no escape route – that’s how much he felt he had to pursue this thing in his life. He stepped all over a poor woman’s basic human rights in the process, but he did it with passion. If only he could find more productive outlets for that passion, he could potentially do some great things.

And I think that is true for all of us. We all have addictions or at least something that is redirecting our God-given passions into something not worthy of them. Addictions can really produce passion. They are powerful and self-propelling. Why don’t our healthier desires and pursuits produce this much passion? Maybe for some they do, but I think in general we have a much harder time sustaining our passion in these things, even if it is something we truly desire to do with our lives. Part of it is biological, I’m sure. Addictions involve powerfully reinforcing chemical transmissions in the brain that give us a rush. Drugs, power, sex – they all do it. I wish I could tap into this for those things I know I am called to pursue, so I could pursue them with more passion. So that little things wouldn’t distract me or discourage me. So that less healthy things wouldn’t get in the way and take all my passions.

I’m not giving up. I trust I will get better at it. For now, all I know is this. I need more passion like Christopher Walken needs more cowbell. I’ve got a fever…

And this Just In

It’s apparently two superpowers pitted against one another. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is Walmart versus the little town of Hercules, CA, and only one is going to come out of this the victor. Will it be the king of the discount store movement, or will it be a small town with a big name to reflect its big heart? Will Walmart be allowed to stay, or will Hercules manage to fend them off and protect the town as they know it?

I am going to follow this one. It’s nice to be reminded that big, important things sometimes do come in small, humble packages. The loud, self-promoting things don’t always have to win. I hope in this case they don’t. I need to see the little guy win right now.

Words

Words, words, words
I’m disappointed by words
They are no longer enough
They have betrayed my trust

Words are a weapon
They form a web of deceit
They cost me part of myself
Wounded, I seize my freedom

This new perspective is so different
I can see past the words
And I hear a different tune
Despite the same familiar lyric

No more words crafted from a silver tongue
It is action I long for
I will settle for no less
I was never meant to

And The Winner Is...

Me

Why, you ask? Because May is Birthday Month™. And Birthday Month™ is a month where I get to win everything, even when it is clear that I lost. It's consolation for turning a year older, this year as old as Jesus when he died (no, I can't seem to forget that one). Some other rules of Birthday Month™ are included below. It's probably best to memorize them if you will be seeing me at all in May:

1. Marsha is always right (you probably already figured this out, but I thought I would remind you)
2. Marsha looks great everyday, even when she looks like crap.
3. Marsha doesn't have to put up with people picking on her incessantly - she can react however she pleases without consequence or grudge.
4. Anyone who says "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha" gets a consequence of Marsha's choosing.
5. Marsha gets to make up more rules as needed.
   

And with that being said, I will plan on seeing you all next month, after Birthday Month™ has safely come and gone. Happy May!!

™ Birthday Month is a registered trademark established by Marsha to denote the special treatment deserved during the month of her birth. Unauthorized use to garner special treatment during your own month of birth is strictly prohibited.

Party On...Excellent

Bohemian Rhapsody...nothing like it. Just ask Collin and Candyce.

You Are Invited...

If you are in the Cincinnati area this weekend, consider this invitation for you!

Stranded

In this box of prism walls
Illusions of color and beauty
Strand me in a black and white reality

A space that is too vast yet too small
As this language confines me
Into a shadow of myself

Marooned on this island
In an ocean of assumption
And numbers are the salt

Where are the adventurers?
The ones to brave these waters
And sail the sea of discovery

The Camera Doesn't Lie

OK...so it is becoming increasingly apparent to me how ridiculous I would look to everyone if I was followed around by a camera 24/7. In addition to the additional 10 pounds that the camera adds, here is a sampling of what you would see.

I have a rubber mat under this really sweet, ergonomic office chair that my work place gives me in order to make up for the ridiculous number of hours they expect me to work. The problem is, whenever I roll off the mat to get something from across the office or to sit at a different table, I have what you might call a little problem getting back on. You would think 50 times or so of doing this would lead to my finally catching on, but it hasn't. Instead, every single time, I try to roll back on at top chair speeds and the following happens (picture in slow motion for greatest effect).

Marsha's chair hits the edge of the rubber mat.
Chair stops abruptly;Marsha does not.
Marsha pitches forward head-first into large office desk.
Marsha exclaims not-so-lady-like expletive.
Marsha laughs at herself for doing it again and again.

I do a lot of dictating at work. After using a handset for a long time and realizing that this was causing a serious dispute between my neck and I, I decided to order a phone headset. I love it. Incidentally, I can't put it on without doing my best pop star imitation. I preferred Janet Jackson until not-so recent events led to a very different image being conjured up whenever I told people that.

Anyway, so I dictate with this headset. I have even mastered the art of dictating and eating by maneuvering food around the headset at the same time. It's a real job skill. What I apparently have not mastered is taking off the headset, because everytime it gets all tangled in my hair and I have to spend like 5 minutes getting it out. Very impressive indeed. It is closely approximated but not quite matched by the "earring stuck in the sweater while pulling sweater over the head" incident of March 2006. Somehow I got into some sort of straight-jacket position with that one, and it was not an easy feat to get out. Good times.

Just Do It

Go see Tsotsi. You won't regret it. It's quite a story about finding freedom and redemption amidst the harshest of cirumstances.

Then let's discuss...

Here's To Good Friends

...tonight is kinda special...

OK, I couldn't help that. But seriously - only a good friend could get away with the following:

Me: Yeah, so that's what's been going on. And I am going to be 33 next month. Here's to hoping that will be the start of a good year.

Good Friend: Jesus was 33 when he died.

Me: Um, thanks.

"You Can Call Me Fatty" and other miscellaneous life stories

And here is the latest in a long line of stories from this stressful but eventful job of mine...

You Can Call Me Fatty

(Fade-in to supervision with one of my trainees yesterday)

Me: I see you have been working with Johnny and his parents. We should talk about how therapy is going so far and make sure your plan sounds appropriate to me.

Trainee: OK, great. Yadayadayada...And so, we had our first parent coaching session yesterday. Mom and dad are divorced but both committed to practicing at home with Johnny this week - Dad four times a week, and mom each weekend day when she has visitation. They are really coachable.

Me: Sounds good. Let's talk again next week after you do a bit more next session. Have we talked about this family before?

Trainee: Yes. This is the one where the dad is a pretty obese guy, and, when I introduced myself and asked how he would like to be addressed, he said, "My name is XXXX, but you can call me Fatty." And then when I called his house another time and got his answering machine, he was all "Hi, this is Fatty. Leave a message." And another time, someone else answered the phone and was like, "Just a minute...(in background) Faaaaaattttttyyyyy!!!!"

Me: Oh yeah, I remember now....so, what else do we need to talk about today?

(And Scene)

Next, a little treat from earlier in the week...

I just moved into Clifton. With this move, I am leaving my old gym behind and joining something closer. I work out way early in the morning, and that just isn't going to happen if I have to travel very far to get there. So, long story short, I decided to join the UC Fitness Center in the Campus Rec Center.

I will say that the center is pretty impressive. The only catch is parking. I don't work on campus, so I don't have parking there. Now, I don't live that far, but I have a small window of time to work out in the morning before work, and walking eats up a lot of that time. I am not averse to walking or running, but this will not be fun in the cold and/or rain. So, I have an epiphany. Why not ride my bike? All sorts of visions of me looking all cool riding my bike through campus come into my mind, and I settle on this option.

So, the morning after I join, I plan to ride my bike to the gym before work, work out, and ride home to get ready for work. The whole process starts around 6am - a treat from my former 5am workout time. Anyway, I get up all gung ho. I had prepared the night before by buying a bike lock for the sweet bike I bought last summer, so I was all set. I go in the basement to get my bike, and I head outside.

It's a little cold this time of year still, isn't it? This is especially true at 6am. Thirty degrees that day, in fact. I hadn't really thought about that. Oh well...

Wow, Clifton is pretty hilly, isn't it? I knew that, but there is nothing like getting on a bicycle for the first time in months (and before that, years) to bring that point home. Huffing and puffing and with copious amounts of snot smeared across my face, I arrive at UC. Almost there...

College campuses never make paths with direct access to anywhere, do they? It is always circuitous. I had forgotten that...

Working this bike lock on this fancy bike lock holder seemed a lot simpler last night, didn't it? Oh, got it. Great.

[Intermission for uneventful gym workout]

Carry over previous comments about cold, hills, huffing, puffing, snot, and circuitous bike routes and add the following on the ride home: 1) Many more people around to view said huffing, puffing, and snot. 2) Many more cars on the street to make this yet another in a long line of "I almost died" stories that I am compiling for my David Sedaris-style autobiography. 3) Me without my bike helmet (what was I thinking?!!), and 4) Arriving at my house again to find that my lungs hurt from the cold and that my hand was frozen in position on my brake.

And to top it all off, when I had arrived near campus, I had noticed plenty of street parking available at that time of day. Needless to say, if you go by campus between 6 and 7am from now on, you will see a black Ford Focus parked on the street...at least until it's warmer. Then you might see a helmeted, snot-free, cardiovascularly-fit, female biker riding over to campus. Be sure to say "hi" to her for me.

Fish, Dogs, and Fellowship

I have never owned a fish. Quite honestly, I just don’t get it. If a pet is for companionship, will someone please explain to me what anyone gets out of owning a fish? You can’t cuddle with them. You can’t really play with them. You can’t talk to them and have them look up at you attentively as if they understand when you know deep down that they don’t. You can basically just watch them. And I will acknowledge that some fish are beautiful, but your garden variety fish tank fish isn’t all that attractive if you ask me. So, what is it?

Dogs I do get. I have always wanted a dog, but I have never had the lifestyle to be able to take care of one on my own. I have always vowed I would get one when I get married and have kids. But it won’t be a little, yippie dog. No - it’s a big majestic dog for me, all the way. And for now, while I wait to finally become the dog person that lurks beneath the surface of my soul, I remain a single woman with two cats. But that is another post altogether. (Disclaimer: I love my cats very much, but I will never be seen wearing cat clothing, knowingly having cat hair all over me, or joining any cat clubs – e.g., I am not the “cat lady”). Maybe the reason one of my cats is so incredibly fat is because I subconsciously want to feed it until it becomes the size of one of the dogs I long for. She is pretty fat…

Now to the purpose of this post. So there is this woman who volunteers where I work. Her sole purpose in this setting is to clean out the fish tank. She diligently comes in every week and does this job, free of charge. She also does it for other tanks throughout the hospital as far as I understand.

This woman fascinates me. She is single, and she has about 10 dogs at home. I know this because that is the only topic I have ever heard her talk about – her dogs. She has posted a picture of herself and her 10 dogs on our fish tank. And I wonder, what is going on with this woman?

Part of me feels sorry for her. Does she have friends? Is this the only way she relates to people, much like the Star Trek fanatics that find community and fellowship through their common interest in all things Star Trek. If so, I find this sad. But why do I find this so sad? Here is a person that is relating to people around a common interest. Don’t I do the same thing? Don’t I gravitate toward people who can relate to what I relate to and who can talk intelligently about things that interest me? Why am I judging this woman as if she is so different in that basic desire? I have no idea. My way of expressing all of this may be more culturally and socially acceptable than hers, but it is still the same basic desire driving it.

So fish, dogs, Star Trek…who cares? I say here’s to anyone who is out there doing the things she or he loves and connecting with others through it. We were made to be relational creatures. The individuality in how that is expressed creates a human diversity that is rather beautiful. I am going to try to embrace and cherish that beauty.

Happy Birthday Steve

Yes, ladies and gentleman. This is it. The long awaited 29th birthday of Steve Fuller. We're going to celebrate this one for all it's worth, because we all know what comes next (some of us better than others). He, however, will probably just be watching NCAA basketball, but that's OK.

In celebration of our friend, you will find the many faces of Steve in the blogs of a number of his friends. You can check out the others in the links from this page. Does he have some great friends, or what?

So, Steve Fuller - this is your life (well, sort of).



Steve - here you are at what I'm guessing is about age 8. That look of excitement is the one that young boys across America get when they get to play our country's pass-time. Wait...that look is familiar. It's the one you still get for anything sports related...except figure skating (in public, at least). And what's that say on your shirt? "Fireballs?" OK, moving on...



And look...here you are around age 13 or so? Those are some serious bangs. Enough said.



Wow...Oh, Steve...were you the one just talking about you and the guys growing moustaches? Learn from your past, Steve. Learn from your past. :)

In all seriousness, here's to a wonderful birthday and an amazing new year of your life to come. May God continue to amaze you in all that he is revealing in and through you. Happy Birthday, Steve!!

Enter Stage Left

You've gotta love those moments in life when you realize that you could actually star in your own sitcom, especially when they are so good that you know you would be like #1 in the Nielsens. These happen fairly often in my life. My friends back in St. Louis (back in the days of grad school and no money) used to say that I should have the show that comes on after Seinfeld - kinda like the female version. They probably weren't all that far off.

Anyway, last night was a sitcom night. I went out to dinner with some friends, and as usual I was taking very seriously the choice of what to order. So seriously in fact, that I didn't realize until too late that I was holding the menu over the candle flame, leaving a large burn mark on the menu and essentially melting two of the pages together. And then, of course, there was the pleasant smell of burning plastic that has probably led to some sort of toxic brain damage or something, but I will let that go. Helmets can't protect you from everything, I guess.

Anyway, back to the ordering ordeal. So, I absolutely love the Black and Bleu Tuna salad at the restaurant where we were, but here's the clincher. They keep making it smaller and smaller EVERY time I go. It used to be a dinner salad, and it has shrunk to closer to side salad size. No big deal if the price shrunk as well, but it didn't. So I have a problem with this. And when I have a problem with something, I say something about it. I am a matter o' fact kinda gal that way.

So I sat the waiter down to have a little chat. And he is very nice and actually agreed. He gave me some inside info about how it depends on which chef is making the salad that night. He offered to request that the more generous salad chef construct my salad for the evening, and I accepted the offer. In fact, salads went all around at our table, and we all got in on the deal. We were very excited. One of us (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) actually ordered two meals because she was so swayed by the whole salad thing - how hilarious is that?

While waiting for our salads, we engaged in your typical, friendly dinner conversation. Now, others may tell you differently, but don't believe them. I will maintain that OUT OF NOWHERE, my whole soda glass sliiiiid across the table, off the edge, and tumbled into my lap. I have no idea how this happened because I am not lying when I tell you I didn't do it. Of course, this happened just as the waiter entered the scene from stage left, and he, like all of us, found this to be - shall we say - amusing. He tried to keep a straight face, but all hope was lost. What is really interesting (not to mention speaks to my incredible coordination and grace) is that I managed to catch the glass right-side-up in my lap - not a drop spilled. I am, as many of you know, a woman of many talents this way. The others at the table didn't appreciate this talent as much as I did, but they were probably just jealous.


Well, we moved past this moment and went on with our conversation. I enjoyed a bit more soda as we talked. So much, in fact, that I was ready for a refill. I thought to myself that I would ask for one when the waiter came back. But, it turned out I didn't need to. He apparently already noticed my drink deficiency and brought another for me - but with a twist. He decided to put it in a sippy cup of sorts. Very clever, Mr. Waiter, very clever. I actually had to give him that one - I wish I would have thought of it myself. I do appreciate a clever retort as much (probably more) than the next guy.

So, those are highlights from my evening last night. What makes the whole thing even funnier is that, after making such a big deal that I needed a bigger salad, I wasn't able to finish the whole thing. And the waiter noticed. And the waiter also noticed that two of us at the table (including the one who burned the menu, required a sippy cup for safe drinking, and advocated for a larger salad that she didn't even eat) are doctors. But as the First Officer said, "at least you're not a real doctor." Thanks, First Officer. Otherwise, they might revoke my license.

Occupational Hazards

I've been increasingly realizing lately that my occupation is creating some real problems for me. Probably the biggest is that it is very draining because of the long hours, but lots of people can say that, so I won't focus on that one.

A more specific occupational hazard that I really don't like is that, because as a psychologist I have to really listen to people throughout most of my day everyday, my desire to listen is dwindling. I know how to listen and reflect. I know how to hear things people are saying but not saying. I know how to hear hidden questions. But you get kinda drained by it after a while. And you get lazy. You kind of half listen, because you are good enough at it that you can still get by on 50% or less.

I have been accepting this as OK and understandable, but really this is not good at all. I mean, one of the ways we can really touch people, get to know people, and bring people to a greater understanding of life and faith is through listening to them. What are they stuggling with? What are they wondering about? How have they been misled or hurt by faith-based or religious experiences in the past?

I can't really touch people where they are if I am tuned out. And I really can't do it if the volume on my own struggles and life pursuits is turned up too loud like it has been. There needs to be more balance, but balance has never been my strong point.

I need to find a way to use the skills God has given me not only at work but in life. I believe it is part of what I was created to do. Ultimately it is about letting God fill me the way He wants to so I can use my gifts more fully without finding myself on empty. Otherwise, I will just stay stuck in my occupational hazard.

So, what are your occupational hazards?

Too Busy To Write

I'm too busy these days to put two thoughts together in writing, so I am pathetically updating my blog with serial survey posts. This one was interesting to me:

Your Hidden Talent

You are a great communicator. You have a real way with words. You're never at a loss to explain what you mean or how you feel. People find it easy to empathize with you, no matter what your situation. When you're up, you make everyone happy. But when you're down, everyone suffers.

What's Your Hidden Talent?

My LOOOOVE Style

Your Candy Heart Says "Hug Me"

A total sweetheart, you always have a lot of love to give out.Your heart is open to where ever love takes you! Your ideal Valentine's Day date: a surprise romantic evening that you've planned out Your flirting style: lots of listening and talking What turns you off: fighting and conflict Why you're hot: you're fearless about falling in love

What Does Your Candy Heart Say?

What?!

OK, so today was destined to suck. I don’t usually start days thinking this, but this one just was. And it still is. Too many mistakes to correct, too many technology snafoos to sidestep, and just plain too much to do. So I am taking this, my coveted 15 minute lunch break, to share something hilarious that helped keep me going today.

I was interviewing a mother this morning who is what we in the business call "hypomanic" – in laymen’s terms, very high energy and hard to contain. There I am, innocently and professionally trying to work around this and get the information I need, but she continues to interrupt me to share additional information of variable relevance. Anyway, at one point, she interrupts me and says, “What the f*** should I call you anyway? Marsha? Doctor? Queen?” I said Queen would be fine.

So I manage to get through that without laughing, but then she comes at me with another one. I was trying to schedule her next appointment but mentioned to her that I couldn’t get on [my gestures and the context of the situation clearly implied that I meant I couldn’t get onto our computer scheduling system]. So she says, “Well, I sure hope you can get off.” I will just clarify that she was absolutely not referring to the computer.

What?! Talk about poor filter activation. You would think some of my more recent friendships would have prepared me against saying something that sets me up for a perverted retort like this one, but I guess my guard was down.

Hilarious day…

Lost and Found

Lost: One fairly independent, purpose-driven, and self-assured woman who never had it all figured out but was willing to let God take her step by step down this path called Life. Taken captive by natural feelings that have become distorted by fear, impatience, and self-focus. Hoping with all hope to be found again. Please forward any leads to her whereabouts forthwith.

Found: A vast desert without apparent end. Oases not yet discovered. Mirages plentiful. Long stays are not recommended for the faint of heart.

Lost: One trusting and hopeful heart. Last seen drowning in an ocean of confusion after becoming disoriented in its search for truth. Handle with care if found.

Found: Directions to difficult self-discovery. For your copy, visit www.nopainnogain.com.

So, So Tired

I am really fading here. I went to bed around 11pm last night (pretty usual for me). I quickly settle into a nice little sleep all snuggled in my down comforter. I would have liked to have stayed like that until wake up/workout time at 5:10am. I mean, isn’t that early enough already? But no…my body had other plans. It decided to wake up at 2:56am. It’s times like this that I want to throw that clock against the wall because it just seems to taunt me…2:57…2:58…2:59…Oh crap, now it’s 3am. I WANT TO SLEEP!!!! Then it’s 4am. Then it’s 5am and time to get up to workout anyway, so why not just give up? No problem. It was actually a great workout because I was more awake than usual.

But now…now, life is totally sucking. It is just after 4pm, and I am a feeling totally done for the day despite more than enough work on my desk to keep me busy for quite some time.

So what does everyone else do when you can’t sleep? Any tried and true remedies? I tried prayer, counting sheep, relaxation methods, reading, even doing some paperwork. It is so rare for me that I haven’t come up with anything that really works for me. I know from training with sleep psychologists that you are supposed to get out of bed until you feel tired again (which I did), but any other bright ideas from all you people with more chronic sleep problems?

Saying Goodbye

I hate to say goodbye.

I guess I have always known this about myself, but it hit me big-time last night when I drove up to my house around 9:30 and saw the For Sale sign in my yard that hadn’t been there when I left in the morning.

Now, this sign did not just randomly appear in my yard. It was placed there by the real estate agent I contracted with to do it. It wasn’t like I didn’t know it was coming. And I am ready for this. I really am. In fact, the reason I was getting home so late in the evening was because I had been out house hunting for the next home God has in store for me (not to mention getting crazy looks from three of my friends as I displayed some serious slaphappiness). It was fun. And I am excited about it and the adventures that lie ahead for me. But I still dread saying goodbye to this house. I can’t even think about someone else living there. It’s just too strange.

This was my first house, and it really became a home for me. I think it is always hard to say goodbye to our first anything – first love, first car, first pet, etc.

I actually named my first car. This, I will tell you, is a big no-no. In college, one of my lab courses in Neurobiology required that I train a rat on a maze before and after lesioning critical brain structures, only to later kill him and prepare slides of brain slices to analyze under a microscope. The first thing they told us was not to get too attached to the rat. Yeah – I didn’t listen. And that ended up being a difficult process for me.

I didn’t listen when it came to my car, either. I named him George (as in, “I will love him, and kiss him, and call him George,” for all of you Looney Tunes fans). George was a yellow, Ford Festiva with orange and black racing stripes on the side to help him sell off my father’s car dealership lot. You are now beginning to see how I ended up with him.

George and I had some great times. George had taken me back and forth on the 3.5 hour drive between my University and my hometown – my longest distance living away from home at that time. George had driven me and my friends around Rochester, NY so we could get off campus and have some fun. I got my first speeding ticket with George. And George somehow always had his windows completely steamed up when I went to get him in the remote parking lot where he stayed when I didn’t need him – to this day, I swear people were breaking in and making out in there, but George never said a word. He was just that trustworthy. I actually had to have a parting conversation with George before I sold him.

So you are probably getting the picture…if it was that hard saying goodbye to George, it is understandable that saying goodbye to my first house is going to be hard.

At least I never named my house.

A Captivating Movie

At the risk of shamelessly ripping off my friend Steve who wrote about this a little while back, I want to share some thoughts about a movie I just saw this past weekend - the recent movie remake of King Kong.

Disclaimer - I will take a uniquely female perspective that neither Steve nor the male character who speaks the truth behind the story brings forth. Proceed at your own risk.

King Kong wasn’t really a movie that I had been planning to run right out and see, but after reading Steve’s comments, it sounded more interesting. Specifically, he commented, “If you want to see a movie that portrays sacrifice in a way that reflects the true consequences of the choice to love someone more than yourself, watch King Kong.” So, since I am a sucker for a good love story, I decided it would be a good Friday night pick.

I never knew that there was an amazing message hidden within a seemingly far-fetched tale of a huge gorilla terrorizing the streets of New York. But beneath the outrageous premise of this movie is a beautiful story of the transforming power of love.

As one of the main characters states as he gazes down at the lifeless body of King Kong, who had just died fighting for love and the existence he knew he was meant to live out without compromise, “Twas beauty that killed the beast.” How true. For it was the beauty of a woman and the beauty of love that took the king of the wildest beasts in the jungle and uncovered something more. It uncovered a heart that could love, a heart that longed for and responded to the beauty of a woman. Yet amazingly, Kong retained all of his other qualities. He retained a fierceness that made him a formidable opponent to everything from dinosaurs, to man, to machines and guns. He retained his majestic appearance and countenance. And in the end, he retained his calling – to fight and live out his days as a king who succumbed to no one. But it was a calling now enhanced and refined by this transforming love. It was truly beautiful. And that beauty, beyond just the beauty of the woman - is what overcame the beast.

And just that would be enough...but what about the other side of the story? I couldn’t help but notice a transformation in the very woman who revealed the beauty that killed the beast.

Anne was an absolutely gorgeous woman. A true beauty. But others, from her elderly mentor on Vaudeville to the many rough-edged sailors on a grungy barge, noticed something more. There was a beauty in her spirit and her carriage. There was something special. Others noticed it.

So then you can see that when we speak about the essence of a woman – her beauty – we don’t mean “the perfect figure.” The beauty of a woman is first a soulish beauty. And yes, as we live it out, own it, inhabit our beauty, we do become more lovely. More alluring.

– from Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge

The only problem was that Anne didn’t see it. Or, perhaps more accurately, she didn’t believe in it. She didn’t trust it. And she didn’t trust herself. And she didn’t trust others. With a past where everyone she had ever loved had let her down, she had shut down. She would only let herself go so far, and then she would stop and go no further. She would only love so much, and then she would love no more, trust no more. And that was her existence. But:

So the choice a woman makes is not to conjure beauty, but to let her defenses down. To choose to set aside her normal means of survival and just let her heart show up. Beauty comes with it.
-from Captivating

And that, I believe, is precisely what happened to Anne. She made a choice. She experienced strength from an unlikely source, and she began to let her heart show up…

To experience the strength of a man is to have him speak on our behalf…We long for the protection masculine strength offers…We long for someone strong to stand between us and the vicious assaults of the enemy…The strength of a man is first a soulish strength – a strength of heart. And yes, as he lives it out, owns it, inhabits his strength, he does become more handsome. More attractive. As the fruit of an inner reality…
- from Captivating

As Anne’s beauty began to reveal the inner reality that resided in the heart of the beast, she began to trust not only him, but also herself. She let go of fear, and she took off on an amazing adventure with reckless abandon.

You could argue Anne was let down in the end. After all, the beast died, and he took his inner reality – the strength of beauty within the beast - with him. But I don’t believe it. I believe he left behind a whole new beauty in what he unveiled in this woman. He had unveiled the fullness of her beauty.

Although the movie ends there, I like to think Anne didn’t waste her beauty or let it fade. I like to think she continued to reveal her full beauty and the full presence of her heart in order to find and treasure her next adventure.

And I like to think I will do the same.

Fear Not

So…2005. You and I had a bit of a love-hate relationship, didn’t we? You were a year that brought a lot of things - new friends who have helped me to rediscover sides of myself that I had almost lost; healing through buried hurts; and heartbreak and painful experiences that showed me where true freedom, hope, and joy come from, to a name a few big ones. But as I look back, all of these seem tied to one underlying development. 2005 was a year where I decided to confront fear.

I have lived in fear for most of my 32 years, and it has been this year that has helped me to see it clearly for the first time. It has been this year that has brought me to a place of confronting it for the first time. And it has been this year that has led me to see how much fear has been holding me back from amazing experiences.

And through all of this, I have learned one thing that I know for sure – fear sucks. And I am not going to accept it anymore. I am not going to let it dictate my life.

As I look to my future, there is a lot I could be scared of. Frankly, some of it may happen. Some of it may even be probable based on the circumstances that confront me. But God is a God of the impossible, and so I see now that circumstances are not the whole story. In 2005, God showed me that the impossible can, in fact, become reality if I trust in him.

So I ask myself, “what if I put myself out there and take the chances that are right in front of me? What if I take the risk?” Yes, my worst fears could happen. They could. But, alternatively, my wildest dreams could come true. My deepest hopes could be fulfilled.

I have wasted enough time. I have allowed myself to enter a life of boredom and white-knuckled security that left no room for adventure. And that is no life. From now on, I choose adventure.

I am shooting for my wildest dreams. Care to join me?

For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.
2 Timothy 1:7