Buy Truth and Sell It Not

Seems like you could excavate every newspaper office and TV station in the world, dirt piling up to the ceiling, and come up with a tiny handful of truth- multi-faceted, solid and clear. Seems like most people champion every cause that appeals to them, whether those causes are logical and ethical, or not.

Of course, the brain is connected to the emotions. That would be an interesting topic. This post could become extremely scientific and Wait but Whyish. But I can't write like that man, yet, so I'm not going to try.

I just want to say that I believe truth is valuable, and especially in the past year or so, I've learned that it's really, really rare. We're surrounded by so many mud-lies. People are spitting out mud and playing in it and proudly displaying their mud creations. They're missing the truth-diamonds, but mud is just so much easier. And if you're covered in agreeable mud, the other people who are playing in it can't get mad at you.

Yeah, I've had emotional opinions of my own. But when I find out that they're emotional nonsense, I try to get rid of them. I've figured out that it's really important to be informed, up to and including listening to logical, ethical people.

I used to sort of think the opposite. I thought it was a cop-out to say you want to wait before making a judgment. Someone said, "I don't have all the information I need to give an opinion." And I was thinking, "Yeah, sure, you just want to avoid upsetting anyone, you politically correct mudhead."

I didn't get that because honestly, part of me really likes to upset people, whether they're speaking Christianese or Political Correctish. With people I Actually Like, I feel differently, Keep Favor at All Costs, and Avoid Topics of Violent Disagreement. But with people I barely know and don't care to know, it's a lot of fun to affirm the opposite of whatever-it-is that they're saying. I really don't understand people who always want their conversations to be calm and serene, and leap to shore at the first sign of a ripple.

Still, waiting to form an opinion is extremely legitimate, and I'm sure it's Biblical. I think Proverbs has a lot to say about it. An opinion is fragile- you can always change it later. But once you say it out loud, there's a little thing called pride that keeps getting in the way. You couldn't possibly change your opinion when you affirmed that it was the One Truth- that it was the diamond and the person-you-were-speaking-to was simply a mud-filled mud-minded mudslinger. Now, could you?

So you clutch that opinion, hold it tight to your chest while you feel the mud dripping out between your fingers, and you watch the unanticipated sparkle of the Opinion of the person-you-were-speaking-to.

This wasn't meant to be a New Year's Resolution. But it sort of subtly became one. I resolve that this year I shall be- a slow and well-informed Opinionator. Because I want to dabble in diamonds rather than mud lies. Be edifying rather than upsetting. Maybe ask people questions when, after Extreme Informedness, I know that they are playing in mud. Get them to think about it some more. Because I have reluctantly concluded that arguing does Little, If Any, Good.

I Still Have Things To Say

But they will have to wait. My family is coming tomorrow! (Aaaah!!!)

I AM here. (I will be here, every Tuesday, for the rest of my life.)

Next time I will write 7 paragraphs instead of 7 sentences. I'll write 7 chapters. I'll write 7 books, and I'll make you read them all.

FINOs

I added a word to the dictionary today. FINO. It will soon become mainstream. It's a noun, and it means a friend in name only. A person who says that he or she is your friend, but never talks to you. You're always the first person to text or call. You try to do things with a FINO, but he or she never has time.

I'm not going to bother with FINOs anymore. I believe that one of the most important things in life is to find really good people. The kind that are happy to see you and that you are happy to see. That won't leave, and that you won't leave, when you figure out that you're each imperfect. 

I'll write a better post next week. If I weren't out of sorts, and in a perfectly equitable mood, I would have many more things to say. But I will say them eventually. Oh, yes. I will say them.

12/13/14

I know it's not Tuesday but I have to say.. It's 12/13/14 and we will probably never have another date sequence like that, ever again..

In Which I Reveal the Top Three

The decision has been finalized. You're the first to know. You can tell all your friends now, you can stop scouring the news. Here they are: Bonnie's Top Three Android Apps of 2014.

#1. Fighter Verses.
I discovered something while I was working at the Westin. I can listen to the Bible while cleaning and get through multiple books in one day. It leaves me with a nice sort of I-listened-to-the-Bible-today feeling. And... not much else.

When I discovered Fighter Verses, everything changed. I love this app for many reasons. It uses the ESV- yes, God speaking to me in my own, modern language. I don't talk the way people did in 1611, and I believe that God would want me to understand every word He says to me.

I also like the fact that the narrator has a nice, normal male voice. I've listened to some truly awful Bible narrators, notably the one associated with the Remember Me (Bible memorization) app, a prissy female who serves the meat of the Word with a chop, chop, chop.

The best part about Fighter Verses, though, is that when you tap Listen to Verse, it plays that verse (or chapter) ON REPEAT. And this, THIS is the secret.

Listen to most of the New Testament in one day= remember nothing. Listen to one or two chapters on repeat for hours= think about the same truths over and over, come close to memorizing them, start applying them to my life.

Although I often succumb to Spotify or Conservative Talk's siren call- on the days I open my Fighter Verses app, I hear from God and it's so, so, so worthwhile.

The app has several other strategies to help you memorize. I only use the repeating audio because it's so useful with the mindless kind of work I do. You can use the other methods to memorize other versions, but the audio is ESV.

You need a WiFi or mobile data connection, but once the audio starts looping, you don't anymore. I think it initially costs two or three dollars. It's worth it.

This app is number one simply because, if I had to delete all but one, this is the one I would keep.

#2. Quizlet
This app is basically the same thing as Fighter Verses, but secularly. (Well, it's used for academic purposes. I suppose you could use it for memorizing Bible verses, but the audio is chop, chop, choppy on this one too.) I made flashcards for French vocab, put them in play mode and listened to them while I worked. You can use it for any academic subject, and listen to your flashcards or study them while you run, wash dishes, drive, or do that other thing you do. The app syncs with your online account, and you can download other people's cards- even look up the textbook for the class you're taking and find them that way. It's all quite easy and fun. Quizlet is helping me learn French (which, unlike Spanish, is extremely new to me, so it's no small task) and for that, I give it the number two award.

#3. Self Control.
The internet has sort of taken over my free time- and sometimes my not-so-free-time- for years and years. I'm interested in everything, and the answers to all my questions are just a google away. Plus creative projects, hilarious videos, fascinating opinions...

It's a huge problem because as much as I love to learn about everything, I'm not supposed to spend my life in front of a computer screen reading randomness.

The internet is also a dangerous place- it's full of evil. You know it's true- and it's hard to avoid it once you enter. It's strewn with the thoughts of people who are vitriolic against God. While I love talking about God with people who are kind and/or open minded, I can't deal with people who mock Him or belittle the Bible anymore.  I've always had a sort of morbid fascination with the opinions of God-hating atheists, and it's kind of dragged my spirit down, made me feel alone, even made me feel that Christianity is ridiculous, although I know that's not true. And I don't think God ever intended for me to read the lies of the lied-to. He intended for me to be in Christian community, to get together with someone and tell that person "You're not alone, I'm a Christian too, and this is what God is doing in my life, what's He doing in yours?"

My last post was against over-the-top book and movie censorship. Now I want to say one more thing about that. Christian people seem to think that books and movies and most especially TV are the really worldly dangers. But I don't hear many Christian people speaking against the internet-as a "standard" anyway. I know it seems indispensable. But IT is the real danger. T.V. can be a huge time waster, and I don't think it's really helpful for anyone, but at least if you have a family with you they can see what you're watching. Books, movies, a few curse words, like I said, sorry but I don't really see the problem there. Smartphone with internet- MEGA time waster, CONSTANT option of seeing and reading all kinds of terrible, harmful things. You watch a DVD, two hours later, it's over. You watch a six minute YouTube video, it suggests another one only for the next, oh, infinity.

Maybe your "standard" could be no internet when you're not with someone else. Now, THAT would be a useful "standard".

It's not really my "standard", as I dislike the word and concept of standards. Maybe I could say, it's my rule for myself. I don't believe in standardization as every Christian is different. You're different than I am. You may have the internet and only get on it once a day to check your email. Maybe Googling random things bores you to tears. Maybe you'd as soon watch dandelions grow as watch a funny video on YouTube.

I-said-all-that-to-say-this. I evicted my charter modem and installed a bunch of phone apps like a dictionary, thesaurus, cookbook, Yellow Pages, and many more. I can still do useful things on my phone without having access to Google or any internet browser. I have a mobile data connection for apps that use internet (I'm writing on a Blogger app right now), but I can't browse or get on YouTube because of the Self Control app. It blocks everything except the exceptions you specify, for the amount of time you tell it to (for me, from 12 AM to 11:59 PM) and you're unable to change it during the blocked time.

If I try to get on chrome, for example, I get a green screen with the words "It's Study Time, Now!"

I wish there were not a comma between "Time" and "Now", but you can't have everything.

It's free.

This is the app I shouldn't need. It's fake, forced self control. One-tap virtue. Still, I know now that I will not be wasting time on my computer or on my phone. I may watch a movie or read a book. But I'm not getting on the internet. I can't. And that's a good feeling.

It doesn't work with iPhone, which fact alone has made me an android girl forever. I'm free of the strange and random wilderness floating all around us. (I wonder how the internet really works- but now I can't Google it. I'll have to think of it as a delicate, elusive mystery.)

And so, I'm giving Self Control the coveted #3 Android app of 2014.

So there you have it. Fighter Verses, Quizlet, Self Control. The apps in Google Play that help you NOT to play.

That Feeling That You've Talked About This Before

Today I'm going to tell you what I think about Standardized Christian Living. Yes, I've talked about it before. Once or twice.

Maybe I should be over it, or past it, or Focused On Other Things By Now. But still- I'm going to tell you about it one more time. It's the last time, so listen up. (Just kidding. I'm happy you even read what I write, so I'm not going to tell you what to do.)

I really wish Christian people wouldn't shun things that are innocent and enjoyable and even noble and beautiful, just because they contain an Objectionable Element. The one thing that doesn't meet the requirements, but really wouldn't even cause them to sin. I know, the Bible says to keep ourselves unspotted from the world. But it doesn't say to keep ourselves walled away from it with mute buttons and book bannings and rebukings of the Unstandardized.

I've watched movies and read books that I know some people, even my nearest-and-dearest, would turn off or slam shut in two seconds because of the language. I'm not talking about foulness in every sentence, but something like God's name and maybe a few "hell's" or "damn's" by the time the credits roll, by the time I turn the last page. Yet something in the movie or book- the qualities of the hero or heroine, their self-sacrifice, the whole wonderful story-changed the way I think about things, changed me, touched me deeply and I wouldn't trade that for anything. "Nothing's a waste of time, it adds to the person that you are"- I believe that, and I want to grow as a person. I don't want to be shut up in some imaginary, sanitary world.

Keep it out, keep it out, keep it ALL out! And I'd be missing out. Not on fun times- I know that being friends with God and serving Him is more fun than anything else. I'm talking about missing out on culture, and character, and new ideas.

You have a lot to learn from everyone- not just from the lady in the church nursery. And maybe expanding your movie and book horizons will help you realize that there's a big, big world out there, filled with all kinds of people. Those people WILL curse around you, and there's nothing you can do about it. (I'm sorry, but I think it's rude to tell an adult "please don't say that around me" or "please turn that music off"- rude and off-putting and just plain WRONG.)

Maybe if you expand your standardized horizons, you'll realize that the people you will meet WILL drink, and some of them will be gay, and some of them will live with their boyfriends. But they will still have good traits and good ideas and good things to teach you. And if they're not saved, you have something even more important to tell THEM- the fact that Jesus saved you and changed your life, cleaned you up and gave you purpose, and is helping you get through each day. And that they need Him too. And they're not really going to want to listen to you after you pointed out the fact that you don't like what they're doing-NOT AT ALL- and you would never do it yourself- EVER.

The cursing issue gets me especially. I'm not trying to turn this into a pro-cursing post. That's not the intention. I don't curse, myself, because it's not refined, and it makes a person sound uneducated and sort of coarse, in my opinion (I'm not saying that you're uneducated and coarse if you curse, but that it makes you sound that way).

The Bible does talk about cursing, but I feel like it's taken out of context, and even "thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain" is misused. Because there's really no way to know that a person is taking God's name in vain. I think it's one of those things that you can only recognize when you do it yourself- you can't say that someone else is doing it, because you don't know their thoughts. People often say "Oh, God" when they are in trouble, and to me, that's a sort of short prayer. Also- do you say "God bless you" when someone sneezes? In that moment, are you wishing for God to bless that person? If not, didn't you just take God's name in vain?

Some "curse words" are honestly subjective. They're "curse words" because someone, somewhere, sometime decided that they were. Of course, I believe sexual-meaning words are clearly wrong, because they're obscene or corrupting talk which the Bible forbids.

Anyway, I think it's wrong to look at someone differently just because they say a word that you don't like. I think it's wrong to yell at a kid in a kid's ministry, who doesn't normally come to your church, when he does. (He's probably not a Christian. His parents/ uncles/ siblings/ cousins/ neighbors probably curse all the time. Do you know how off-putting it is for you to yell and lecture about it? And it's really not the important issue right now.)

I believe in listening, being kind and talking about things that really matter.

And I also wish you wouldn't rule out every (otherwise good) book and movie that has some against-your-standard element but doesn't Actually Cause You To Sin. You will be surrounded by these things FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

What about being in the world, yet not of it?

But where's the mute button where's the black marker turn it off eject it that's two curse words they kissed AAAAH tear out the page rip it up burn it up not in this house no no no never ever ever we have standards in this house we have standards! Amen.

Are You In The Ku Klux Klan?

I really love kids. But then, I don't understand people who dislike them. As cliché as this will be, they are just like sunshine on a cloudy day.

I'm trying to become a better writer, and now I feel awful about cramming this post with clichés. I've only written four sentences, and I already have one. If I get to the last sentence and I'm still weighed down with overwhelming guilt, I'll revise it.

Yesterday I drove the minivan that my parents gave me to bring some kids to my church's Bible club. I've done that for a few weeks, and I can finally find their houses without my Maps app! Yes, it took me that long. They were all waiting for me, as always, loud voices and big smiles.

It all went fairly smoothly. I only had four kids instead of a whole crowd, so I didn't have to go through the I-only-have-six-seats speech. I didn't have to talk to any parents or comfort the crying left behind. I had four of my regular kids, and they know they're supposed to buckle up right away. I told them if they didn't distract me, we would make it on time!

Then they started talking about Mike Brown and Darren Wilson (although they didn't know his name). Saying that all cops are racist and stupid.

Now, I feel a responsibility to these kids- sometimes, as though I might be the only voice in their lives Saying Otherwise. 

I couldn't just keep quiet.

I told them that it was a lie and that it was really hurtful to them to believe it. I told them that cops risk their lives to protect us, that they're not racist, that Michael Brown attacked Officer Wilson.

I didn't say everything I thought about it. I didn't tell them how horrible it was that people's homes and workplaces burned to the ground over the death of a thug. I didn't say that our president encouraged the violence while pretending to discourage it, that he is consistently fake and I really, really dislike fake people. That I have no respect for him no matter what Christian people say, when they say "Gotta respect the president!" because respect is earned and he is destroying my country and dividing it up by race just to get votes. Setting one group of Americans against another. That I despise Al Sharpton and I despise every single criminal who burned and looted over Michael Brown. That now, Darren Wilson, an innocent, honorable man, will fear for his life, for the rest of his life. For nothing. For stupidity.

I didn't say all that. This is what I said: "Michael Brown attacked the police officer. There was forensic evidence that he did."

This is what I got: yelling so that I couldn't say another word. Hands over ears. "That's what you think because you're white!" they shouted. "White cops don't like black folks, they want to shoot us!" The little one bounced up and down on the back seat. "I saw it on TV! I saw it on TV!"

I tried to tell them that we can't believe everything we see on TV. People are lying. "Do you know why they're lying?" I asked, then answered my own question while I could still get a word in edgewise. "They're lying because they want you to vote for them!"

Then the question from the boy in the front seat. "So, are you a member of the Ku Klux Klan?"

It's okay. I'm not mad at the boy. I told him to apologize because I wanted him to know how inappropriate it was to ask me that.

I'm mad at the politicians who convinced the adults in his life, and then him, to think that way. The sniveling idiots- I don't usually call names, but they ARE sniveling idiots- whose prize political strategy is the fabrication of racism. It's hurting my kids- I don't want any of them to be the next Michael Brown. So convinced that the police (and even all white people) are against them that they only want to fight. It's hurting my country. A girl I met the other day tried to compare the US to third world countries where riots happen daily. "I don't think we understand what that's like, and we make such a big deal over one riot," she said.

Guess what, girl I met the other day? It's where we're headed! Don't take such smug satisfaction in America having less violence than other countries! Can't you see that we are deteriorating? Sure, it's gradual, but that doesn't mean we won't become a third world country! Sure, we have been blessed, and I am grateful, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let that blessedness slip away, when there is something I can do about it!

I tried, in my own small way. And I think I communicated to four kids that the real racism in this situation is black people making assumptions about white policemen. Just because they're white.

And I want to pick up America, just cut it right out of a Rand McNally map, and shake it and say, "Stop promoting racism while you're pretending to decry it! Stop lying to my Bible club kids! Stop, just stop!"

I Shift Paradigms on Tuesday (Turtles Are Not Shy)

I heard an expression recently that I take GREAT exception to.

"Look who's coming out of her shell," Anonymous Expresser said, gloating in his-or-her imaginary knowledge of all things shell.

It's a common misconception, so I'm here to state the facts. I want you to realize that turtles are not shy. NOT AT ALL. As an ordinary, non-turtled human, you naturally don't understand how un-shy they are. But turtles are malicious. They're revengeful. Their little turtle hearts are grimy with hate.

They crouch sulkily in their pebbled tanks as millions of strangers pass by, gazing in.

"Oh, look, how quiet and sweet. What a perfect analogy for a shy person," they say. "We're going to start telling people to come out of their shells," they say. "It's a perfect expression... perfect," they say.

Man looketh on the outward appearance. But there are things in a turtle's mind that would AUTOMATICALLY make a movie PG-13 for violence and smoking images.

When I come home from work, I walk up the steps to my apartment. I press my ear against the cold windowpane of my living room. The curtains droop placidly against the glass. The stillness could convince a person of perfect peace and tranquility within. But I know better now. I know that I am within four feet of a clandestine meeting of the Violent Un-shy.

This is a true story. I had just moved in, arranged and re-arranged all my furniture. I made blueprints in a notebook and moved it and moved it until I finally liked it. I was exhausted. My turtles sulked in their tanks, heads withdrawn. I didn't have a single roommate yelling profanities at her video games. I didn't have a single Justin Bieber howling on the radio. It was like a beautiful dream.

I lay down on my survivor mattress that had cascaded from the top of my van, twice,  as I drove it, tied only with a jump rope, in the dead of night so that no one would see. It was like flopping down upon a pile of downy pillows in a royal boudoir. I must have fallen asleep because I wandered into that place where strange things happen.

Suddenly, I heard a terrible noise. I can only describe it as 20% chain saw, 80% coyote.

My new neighbors must be having car issues, I thought, innocently. 

My eyelids were dragging when I heard it again- much, MUCH louder. Unmistakably in my house. 

Adrenaline coursed through me where exhaustion had been. I snatched my phone and dialed 9-1-1 with a shaking finger. My thumb hovering over the send button, I cautiously peered through the doorway to my living room. There I gazed upon a horrible sight.

My turtles were banging against the sides of their tanks. Their little mouths were wide open, emitting the 20% chainsaw 80% coyote sounds. Their chubby, scaly legs flailed wildly. A wave of water exploded over the side of Yertle's tank. It was as though somebody had kidnapped my peaceful pets and replaced them with ferocious sea creatures.

"What do you want? What do you want?" I yelled, scrambling around my living room with a can of turtle food in one hand, a stack of treats in the other.

I held the can out over Mack's tank, ready to pour, when he leaped up from the foaming water and swallowed the entire thing- lid and all. Seconds later, he continued that fearful din.

"I'll make you into soup!" I threatened, weakly. "I'll use your shells as Frisbees!" The sides of Yertle's tank gave way with a crash. I grabbed a roll of duck tape which luckily I had used to less than an hour before, so I knew exactly where to find it. I frantically patched the tank as a second wave plummeted to my landlord's carpet.

It was a TWO HOUR turtle revolt. TWO HOURS. I hovered nearby the entire time, hoping against hope that they'd be unsuccessful in their mad attempts to devour each other, all the food in my kitchen, or me.

This has happened every day since then. EVERY DAY. I use up all my spare time and more energy that I ever imagined I had, yet I barely keep them contained.

Oh yes. You're just like a turtle when you hide inside your shell. You must be plotting acts of murderous rage. So sweet. So quiet. So shy.

Dangerous DIY

I get this crazy idea at least once a day- I can handle this on my own. Then I have to give myself a lecture, something like this: Bonnie, don't you know BY NOW that you can't DIY. You can't D (anything) Y. (My attempt to be grammatically correct just ruined a perfectly good acronym. There- you see what grammar can do to you.)

I'm realizing that I need to bring everything to God... everything. He is a true friend who will always be with me- and I can't really count on anyone else.

I used to think it was somewhat invasive that God knows all my thoughts. If you are one of my Former Facebook Friends, you may know that I say most of what I think anyway. It's not a good trait. My older sister also told me one time that my face is like an open book. I want to be transparent and honest but not to impulsively say all the negative things. Even when I do, though, nobody knows everything I think. It sometimes seems strange and not exactly comfortable that God knows everything, literally EVERYTHING in my mind. (You don't always think about that either- admit it. If you did, you wouldn't be thinking MOST of the things that you are thinking.)

It's not invasive, though, because He created my mind. If you built a machine, wouldn't you be watching to see what it was doing? Yeah, I know, we're not machines. But the Bible compares us to clay pots. It's an analogy and you're going to have to be okay with my analogies because this is my blog and I can say whatever I want to on it. I could say something really, really crazy right now and there wouldn't be a thing you could do about it.

(God, please help me to say something encouraging right now, instead of something crazy).

Now, you see how I modeled that for you? I had an impulse to say something really deplorable and I took it to God and He helped me not to, now follow my example, dearly beloved.

Seriously, though, I am going to start praying about this blog, just like I'm going to start praying about the things I say to the kids I take to Bible club, and to the ladies at Piedmont Women's Center where I started volunteering, and to people I work with (including Drama King- the guy who trained me and really, really gets on my nerves). Because I can be encouraging to people, but only when I put myself aside, and pray about it. I've prayed about some things, and I've not prayed about other things, and things I pray about always turn out so much better, as I'm depending on God. ALWAYS!!

Sometimes I'm a like a machine who thinks she can fix herself, and just falls apart, with gears and screws all over the floor and Part A where Part C should be and Part B between the toolbox and the wall. And there's my creator, just standing there patiently, knowing all about it and waiting to fix it, and I'm ignoring Him in my DIY arrogance. I could save a lot of trouble and hurt by going straight to Him.

Here's a poem I wrote a while ago about this. I've been wanting to write a new poem but haven't had time, so I'll have to do Throwback Tuesday for this one.

My index fingers find their way
To the ridge on F and J
I know just how to take control
I've spent my whole life in this role.
The blackness clacks beneath my hands
But words don't flow out as I planned
For spell check bolds the faults I'd hide
And caps lock blares my silly pride.

At least this story's all my own
I write the way I will be known
I can escape at any time
Insert, page down, delete this line.
The backspace key is so perverse
Just when things can't get any worse-

I feel His presence next to me
The author of eternity.
His nail scarred hands are reaching out
He says, "Give me the keyboard now."
I say, "Wait, wait, I'm almost done
Must write myself while I'm still young!"
Enter, page break, then assess
Ashamed to let him see my mess

He gently pulls and I let go
My story's such a flop, I know.
And yet it's mine- and I feel fear
He'll edit all that I hold dear..
I watch Him closely as He reads
The sorrow for the things He sees
The errors underscored in red
I can't take back the things I said.
The Editor of time and space
Reads every word, still holds out grace
Forgives, deletes my past, and then
Empties the recycle bin.

I'm thankful that it's His to write
Brand new lines across this white
I love this sentence that He planned
But then I see the ampersand.

I try to tab ahead of Him
He gently takes control again
This paragraph is taking shape
Can't deal with it, I press Escape.
"Look, I'm fine, I'll type the rest
I've learned my lesson, I know best
But when you took control from me
You could've fixed the backspace key."

My story falls apart once more
I throw the keyboard on the floor
I say He doesn't even care
He waits until I kneel in prayer.

Oh, God, this story's not my own
So type it for yourself alone.

Dreaming

I'm dreaming about my future, but I'm not dreaming about strolling between two rows of pews as crowds of people stare at me. My dreams don't have a white dress or a rental car or a House Beautiful magazine. They're not populated by some love-of-my-life and love-of-my-life-junior.

I'm dreaming about an orphanage in Haiti. It's run by two old ladies who are staring death in the face. They've given all of their time to their work, and they've nearly starved many times. They've built a high wall to keep predators away from the kids. They're worn out, and they need my help.

My dream is full of joy. My kids-of-the-future are happy, because they've never been to a Walmart toy aisle. They've never watched T.V. commercials, or taken fried food out of a drive-thru window two minutes after ordering it. Their lives are hot, dirty, and poor, but they've never experienced anything else.

I'm going to ship all my books to Haiti. I have shelves and shelves of kids' books- I'll collect more, too. I'll sit down with my squirmy kids and teach them to read in French and English so that if they want to go to America, or any other country when they get older, they can. I'll read all the stories my mom read to me- about Ramona and Anne Shirley, Bilbo Baggins, Harvey Cheyne. I'll do all the voices, and the little ones will sit on my lap, hanging onto every word, and the older ones will pretend not to be listening.

I'm going to make things with them- useful things like crutches for lame people, and bread for starving people. We'll go out in a big group and give them away, and tell those people how they can find hope in Jesus, even in the middle of their darkness.

We'll have birthday parties and spiritual birthday parties, even if we never have any presents. We'll celebrate every holiday together and make our own crazy traditions. We'll pray together every night and write down the things we learned about God and the things we're thankful for on a huge chalkboard.

I know, it won't be just like that. I'll get a disease, my kids will get diseases, and I'm not a nurse. I'm not a mother, I don't know how to deal with disrespect and disobedience. I'm not prepared to watch people suffering in a place where crime has no consequences and most little girls get raped by age 8 (according to a missionary I spoke to, who's been there for years). I can think I'll rescue kids and make a huge difference in their lives, but that may not happen. They may never get saved- they may die. I can say "I want to go to Haiti, God" but I may hear a "No."

It's just a dream. Those girls who dream about a perfect home populated by love-of-my-life and love-of-my-life-junior- they're not realistic, either. They're as naïve as little girls playing bride with dress-up dresses.

A bunch of happy kids in an orphanage in Haiti- that's my perfect dress. That's my white house with a picket fence.

GOP Seizes Control of Senate

YES WE DID!!!! Everybody go get some fried chicken in honor of our first lady, who's having a bad day ;-)

PS

So frustrating! I can't seem to edit my last post on my smart phone. That's the only place I have internet right now, as I'm not going to have it in my house anymore (and while I'm already in withdrawal, I'm super happy that that distraction is going to be gone :-) ) Anyway, I just wanted to say that I said what I think mainly about foreign policy, because that's the major thing I'm thinking about right now. But I don't imagine that that is the only important issue. I think abortion needs to be extremely limited (if not outlawed) and pastors shouldn't be persecuted for speaking against homosexuality, and we need immigration reform, better gun laws or fewer gun laws, armed guards in every school if not armed teachers.. the repeal of Obamadoesn'tcare.. I'm sure you wouldn't read my blog if I told you my opinions about everything ;-)

To Write an Election-Day Post Was to Our Heroine the Work of a Moment

I don't really think I'm a heroine, don't worry. I've just loved that phrase ever since I was a kid and read The Enchanted Castle by E. Nesbit. One of the characters in the book, Gerald, says things like that about himself all throughout. "To brush his hair and his clothes and to wash his face and hands was to our hero but the work of a moment." It struck me as really funny in an arrogant sort of way, and I've thought things like that about myself ever since. "To get out of bed when her alarm clock rang, was to our heroine the work of a moment."

Well, basically, I just want to say that I love my country. I've felt pessimistic about our future for a long time, but figuring out exactly what I believe politically and where the left has it wrong is really helping. I do believe that we are the greatest country in the world, and we have power to make the world a better place.

It's just so sad to me that Democrats (many of whom are good people) are focusing on such trivial issues instead of the really important things. Most of the things they focus on are based on lies. It's a lie that women are paid less than men for the same jobs. Women are paid less than men overall because many choose (yes, it is their choice, not yours, Mr. President)- to take time off work to care for their babies. Also, statistics saying that women are paid less than men don't take many variables, like different positions in a company, into account. So why is this even an issue? Why are feminists making videos with little girls spewing vile language to propagate this lie? It's a lie that raising the minimum wage will help people. It will hurt nearly everyone. It's a lie that black people are mistreated on a regular basis and that the goal of the police is to shoot them all. I hate it that our President is polarizing our country over things like race when I listened to his speech from 2004 and he said that he wanted to unify our country in every way.

I get it. It's easy to run with your emotions. Democrats may truly believe that they are more compassionate- but that's just not the case in the long run. They need to think about the long-term effects of their policies.

I've talked to some people lately, especially young people, who said they weren't voting because they didn't believe that it would make a difference. They said that they thought Democrats and Republicans are all the same, that it's all a farce, that the country is controlled by rich people. It made me want to bang my head against the wall.

You know something else that really, really bothers me? The fact that kids in public schools are regularly taught that our country is terrible. They aren't taught about the honorable, intelligent, courageous men who founded it. Instead, they're taught that we mistreated everyone, and that we still do today.

I listened to an a political ad by a regular citizen (in a contest) today that made me cry, and I felt a little silly about it and had to think about why. It was a woman saying that her grandfather was a German who was an American POW in World War 2. The Americans treated him so well that he vowed to become a citizen of the nation that would treat prisoners with such kindness. It made me realize that we are kind and good, and we have a long history of being that way, no matter how leftists try to portray us. And I want us to keep making that kind of difference in the world. This is what matters. Free birth control for women doesn't matter. Thousands of people getting brutally beheaded matters. President Obama should never have pulled our troops out of Iraq, making it possible for ISIS to flourish. And you want to vote for the people who supported him? The people who supported this guy who can only talk about trivial things and lies even in the face of enormous human tragedy? I don't believe we should just stay here and mind our own business and let the rest of the world go. I'm proud to be a citizen of a nation that has been involved in world conflicts, has stopped dictators from mistreating people, and has made the world a safer place. I truly hope that Republicans gain the majority in the Senate today, because I think that is the first step to stopping the worst makeover in history- the makeover and deterioration of my country. I believe that there is hope and that change is possible- and it's in spite of President Obama, not because of him.

Life Has No Opposite

On Sunday, I found out that Brittany Maynard, a terminally-ill, 29 year old woman whose story has been on national news, died by physician-assisted suicide. In a small way, I'm heartbroken (although I know that the heartbreak of her friends and family is much, much greater). I've felt burdened for Brittany since the first day I read her story, and I had it in my head that when I have a burden to pray for someone, God is planning to do something in that person's life. Brittany scheduled her death for November 1st. On Sunday, November 2nd, I watched a video in which she stated that she was still enjoying life enough to want to put it off. She also said that no one knows the right choice for her life except for her. I was elated that she delayed her suicide, literally dancing around my apartment, seeing it as a direct answer to prayer. I had hope that she would get saved (she clearly wasn't trusting in Christ for salvation, based on the things she said). Now, it's too late.

I heard a profound statement on Conservative Talk radio recently. A caller said, "What if I said that the opposite of death is not life, but birth? Life has no opposite." He was right. Life can't have an opposite because it is eternal; it never ends. Think about it. This short, fragile life can't be it. If you believe that it is, than why, why, why? Why everything? Brittany chose an early death-earlier than the one she would have experienced if she had faced her disease with real courage. But Brittany is still alive, and her life will never end. Of course I can't know for sure, but I have to think that she is alive in Hell, not because she committed suicide, but because she chose not to believe in Christ as her Savior. And that is the greatest tragedy of all.

I know that I wasn't the only person praying for Brittany. I would have done anything to stop her from going through with it, to help her understand the gospel, and many other Christians feel the same way. I know that the pain and fear she experienced were far beyond anything I've ever experienced- that I may never understand what she went through. I also know that she must have had good counsel in her life. She read the opinions of others- I know she did, because she talked about them. Some people may have been judgmental and harsh in the way they spoke to her, but I have no doubt that she communicated with at least one Christian person who told her the truth in love. That's what I specifically prayed for. The very fact that she put her suicide off indicates that God was holding her back. Yet, she chose to deal with things in her own way instead of turning to Him. I believe that God did answer my prayer, but sometimes, the person I pray for won't listen.

 

Now, I can only hope and pray that Brittany's campaign to make physician-assisted suicide legal in more states will NOT be successful; that terminally ill people  will turn to God, instead of to lethal pills. Because He is the only one who can help them. Because life is eternal, and life here on earth is just the briefest of moments. And really, it doesn't matter whether or not you seize the day now- because the only thing that will matter in the long, long, long life after death is whether or not you seized the Savior.

I Am a New Creature

I discovered something, something important, on the banks of the Reedy River, Saturday. It was a day on which I felt like a total mess. It was all these old habits and timewasting and dwelling on what people might think about me, a freaking war in my mind. When some people come into my head, my thoughts go like this: leavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealone (literally) because in that moment, I don't ever want to hear from them or see them again.

So I went outside. Sunshine bringing out the vibrant greens and browns on the Swamp Rabbit Trail. It was like walking into a postcard.

I know by experience that it's not a good idea to go to the park on Saturday. When I go to the park, it's for solitude. And people invade that solitude, and I get irritated. And it becomes more and more likely that I'll demand to know why they're there, tromping all over my rocks and sloshing around in my water, when- if you want to get really technical about it- they have just as much right to be there as I do.

So I stopped halfway and I found a tiny waterfall, a little snag in the river. And there's something about flowing water that makes me want to stay. And I sat there for a long time and one runner asked me if I was okay and one runner just ran past me, and besides those two runners I didn't see anyone for over an hour.

An hour! And you were already depressed about time-wasting! Yes, but there's this- "time spent with God is never wasted." And there's something about talking out loud to God, and it's just more natural out in nature.

And here is what he said to me- not audibly- but I could not have come up with this myself after years of feeling like such a mess. "STOP characterizing yourself as the way you used to be." Yes, the things like "You never do what you're supposed to do, or stick with anything." "You're a failure." "You're a terrible example to the kids at your church." Or whathaveyou. Because- "You are a new creature."

I learned 2 Corinthians 5:17 a long time ago. But maybe I didn't really believe it.

Jeremiah 31:34. Hebrews 8:12. "I will remember their sins no more."

I have decided not to characterize myself in any forgotten way. And I will not dwell on the things people might think about me. It just doesn't matter any more. IamanewcreatureIamanewcreatureIamanewcreature.

There are many, many people who have been examples of Godliness to me. Why? Because they simply obeyed God. They served Him with their lives. They didn't let past failures drag them down. Sometimes I have thought that being honest and real is the most important thing. But most of these people didn't talk about the things they struggled with, or discuss all the difficulties of the Christian life. And they were real.

Of course, the Christian life is hard, but it's just wrong to focus on the struggle (especially the past struggle) instead of the NEWNESS. And if God has FORGOTTEN that I was *this* and did *this* and didn't do *this*, what right do I have to still characterize myself that way, or worse, to stay mired in it? How can I talk about it, or even think about it?

Yes, I called myself an inconsistent person last Tuesday. But this is a new Tuesday. I am a new creature. ;-)

Basically, this is what matters. Who is God, and does my life bring glory to Him? All forgotten things, and the opinions of others about my life- DON'T- they just don't.

Whatever YOUR characterizations are. "I'm such a slacker, I'll never get this project done." "I know I'll snap at *irritating coworker*." Think this instead. "I am a new creature. I am a new creature."

"For I will never leave you, nor forsake you."

Old People are Just the Same As You and I

If you're reading this, and you put yourself in the "old people" category, I apologize for my insulting title. In fact, I almost didn't use it. I've had this song in my head for a while though, and you know how it is with songs-in-your-head.

You know the one. "Short people are just the same as you and I, a fool such as I, all men are brothers until the day that they die, it's a wonderful world." That's the refrain. I'm including it in my post rather than the entire song because it is very much the most charitable part.

The entire song is actually hilarious, though, when it's about short people, but then there's really no such thing as heightism. At least, I've never met a heightist. There may be one, somewhere- a person who is truly prejudiced against everyone shorter than he is. But he is probably a closet heightist, who would never, under any circumstances, admit to being one.

Old age is different, so I want to talk about old age. It seems like most young people completely disregard and disrespect old people. I can vividly remember the reactions of my high school classmates when we visited a nursing home. They fidgeted and made faces at each other. They mentioned the weirdness and creepiness of the residents right in front of them. They searched for their hand sanitizers in their purses.

It can be uncomfortable in a nursing home, honestly, because you will usually meet some mentally ill people. But how did those people become mentally ill? Probably by living alone, in a cheerless place, watching TV mindlessly, and never seeing family! It's really, really sad.

Old people get discriminated against all the time, though: just because of the way they look. An old person's mind may be perfectly sound, and he may be the most interesting person you will meet all week; but you'll never know unless you talk to him. I think it's very similar to a 4-year-old who looks at an adult as a sort of god. Something like this might go through his head: my dad can do anything, except make a mistake; he knows everything, and can protect me from all harm. It's evidence-based- I saw my dad doing things I can't do. I asked him a question, and he knew the answer! He wasn't afraid in the thunderstorm. But it's still faulty reasoning. Now, please tell me you don't still think like a 4-year-old. A 19-year-old looks at an 80-year-old- just as far removed from his age as a 28-year-old dad is from a 4-year-old's age. He thinks, "I've talked to old people before. They drooled, they didn't know anything about my favorite activities, and they couldn't remember what they'd said five seconds ago." BUT THIS IS A DIFFERENT 80-YEAR-OLD THAN THE ONES YOU TALKED TO BEFORE. Please tell me you aren't still GENERALIZING AND STEREOTYPING EVERYTHING after an extra 15 years of life!

I happen to have met several 70-90 year olds who were funny and full of life. I've met writers online who were incredibly intelligent and relatable, and when I found out their age, I was shocked- although I shouldn't have been. For people are truly all the same- they are, they are. And wrinkles and hunched backs and walkers cannot change that.

I would like to know why it is even considered a negative or shameful thing to be old. If a person's age did not equal the number of years he's been alive, THAT would make him weird. The fact is, each person is exactly the age he or she is supposed to be, right now. That means that NOBODY should be ashamed of their age! You should be as happy and proud to turn 51 as you were to turn 5! You should tell everyone, blow up 51 balloons, and ask what your presents are going to be!

Why do we stop celebrating birthdays anyway? And why do women, especially, try to hide their age? Armed with makeup and hair dye and lies. I'm guilty (not of the lies, but at least of not wanting to tell my age) but I proclaim that I will not feel that way any longer! I am 27, and I am proud, yes, proud that my age matches the years I've been on this earth! I am happy that I am exactly the age I'm supposed to be, right at this moment. I do not want to be an age that I'm not supposed to be! I am proud that I am older than the people I am older than, I do not want to be a silly, boy-minded, eyebrow-plucking 20 year old! I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL I'M 30. Oh, 30 year olds, I am so jealous of you. WHAT AN HONOR. WHAT AN HONOR.

Unconditionally, As In Unconditionally?

But but but! That means consistency. Dedication. Faithfulness! A commitment to my avid readers that I'll be there for them every Tuesday, whether it's a wanting-to-skip-like-a-four-year-old Tuesday, or a feeling-like-my-bed-is-a-very-strong-magnet Tuesday!

Consistency is hard. I organized a Cleaning Club once. It was extremely official. My sisters and I transformed, overnight, into little Molly Maids. We wrote rules, we laid out penalties for rebellious behavior, we elected officers, we typed a newsletter with interviews and a joke column (actually on my dad's computer!)- we were so excited! One week later, good intentions settled like dust in the corners of the house, I don't think my mom was surprised.

I don't know how they do it, these consistent people- but I know, with certainty, where they'll be at 9:52 AM. With the same expressions on their faces, saying the same things.

Do they get their feelings hurt? Do they run a red light? Do they make mistakes? Do they get a cold? EVER? Sometimes I ask them for their autographs.

But for you, for you! I would do anything! So here I'll be, every Tuesday, writing things that you will want to read. Trust me. You will want to read them.

I will be here, every Tuesday, for the rest of my life. It probably won't be long. (Having never tried it- consistency may very well kill me.)