So She Danced

Me and my forever friend, Nicole. Some people think we're identical. We're not.
Shockingly, this is the only photo I could find of me hands-up dancing.

So She Danced

A paraphrase inspired by Momastery

I am sitting in a bright white kitchen with God. It's gleaming, open and immaculate. A butcher's block is fit into the corner of the stone countertop with the sharpest knives money can buy. I didn't get to test them out, but in dreams you can be certain of things without truly knowing. Sharpest knives in the world. That—and their handles were encrusted with pearly ivory.

The north side of the kitchen opens into a living room through a breezy walkway. I wander in. My bare feet felt smooth on the wide-plank herringbone wood floor. I nestle back into the wide embrace of an overstuffed leather chair and drink in its earthy scent. We are the only ones in the house.

God remains in the kitchen at the countertop with the knives. Apparently he is quite the chef. I hear he's also pretty kickass at soccer, but he leaves the knives at home for that.

Although I can clearly hear his warm yet booming voice from the living room, I'm annoyed he didn't follow me in here. I grab a linen-covered throw pillow and hug my knees into my chest along with it, obviously pouting. I can hear him repeatedly pounding the utility knife against the cutting block. I know he knows I'm in here. I know he knows I'm upset. 

I let out a long breath against the back of my throat—like Ujjayi breathing in yoga. It's loud and intentional, but it doesn't calm me this time. I reposition myself in the chair, leaning hard onto my right arm, my cheek weighing heavy into my right hand. I can see him now through just a sliver of an angle in the walkway. He has the short paring knife out now. His demeanor is calm and collected as he cuts bite-sized pieces out of one of my Fuji apples. 

I kick childishly at the leather ottoman, trying to knock it over, but instead it just makes a loud scuffing noise against the floorboards. He doesn't look up from his work. Now he's pulling scallions from the ice box and is slicing meticulously.

Fine, I think. I can be the bigger person. I can start.

Why? 

Why am I here? Better question—why would you lead me here and then leave me? Because clearly, YOU led me here. I didn't kick down any doors or plow through any barricades to get here. And now you're being awfully coy and quiet over there in the kitchen. What's your big plan? It's been over a year. There isn't a plan, is there? Is there?!

God keeps chopping. I can smell the ginger wafting over. He says nothing though.

The job rejection letter, you know, the one job that I would finally feel proud to tell everyone back home about...? And how I got it in the mail on Valentine's Day? Reminding me that not only am I the only single female left in America, but no one in this state has heard of my college and no one wants to hire me...? [Clearly hyperbole was getting the better of me at this point.] 

Was I supposed to learn something from that?

This is NOT where I dreamed I'd be at age 26. And you made me, didn't you? You gave me these dreams, and now I want to know why. What's the point? 

And then the real kicker, because all the yelling wasn't really about a silly job: Why does life make love so hard?

During all of that, God is still a picture of serenity in the kitchen. I heatedly watch him rinse the paring knife of ginger and turn to slice a lime in half before reaching for a basket of freshly picked kale. 

In my mind I hear myself brooding, What is he even making? It better be good.

It will be. He breaks his silence. Actually, it is already.

Then he sets down the knife, smiles in at me and says, 

My sweet girl, you are so upset. I get that. I feel that. And I love you so freaking much. [Yes, God said freaking.] So would you like me to shut down the dinner prep for a while so we can talk face-to-face? 
 

His sudden direct attention unnerves me, and I rise to standing. My curiosity pulls me into the kitchen, where I can finally see all of what he has been doing. I gaze into the over-sized serving bowl and the presentation takes my breath away. Jewels of produce—ten times more than what I had noticed him handling—intermingle with water particles freshly clinging like diamonds. Rich reds and emerald greens and orange, yellow and purple. It was a mess of color—so vivid that I could actually taste them without bringing any of it to my mouth. The best summer squash and dried currants. Persian cucumbers and wild mint. Blueberries and shavings of baby asparagus. 

I'm a big salad girl, but I'd never crafted something so nuanced before. And the smell—I couldn't place it, but I never wanted to let it go.

My lips parted to ask, What is it? But just before the words came out, I tilted my head and saw myself. The wild and perfect concoction was me. All swirly and crunchy and life-giving.

No, keep going, I say. I want you to finish the meal.

Because he is preparing my life, of course. His hands are touching me. Cutting, chopping, peeling away. And I wouldn't want to distract him from that. I decide I still trust him.

Hey...God? 

I don't want to get in the way anymore. But I don't really know what to do exactly. So I’m just going to dance. While you cook. Is that okay?

 

He walks toward me, pauses, and gently brushes a few strands of my hair back behind my ear. Then he says, Dance? Is that okay? That's all I've ever wanted for you to do, sweet girl. So you go dance, and I’ll cook. It’s going to be so, so good. I've got this.

So I twirl my hair into a big messy bun on the top of my head and throw my gaze and my hands skyward. And God turns back to the cutting board, beaming over me.

hard things #2

 Ed Cooke for Valencourt by Samuel Bradley.

Hard Things #2—Addiction [See my quasi-intro to the "hard things" posts here.] 

This post has been slowly pieced together over many weeks; at one point I strongly considered not posting any of it at all, so as not to be voted the Most Depressing Blog of 2012. But then I re-read this statistic in the news: "Unintentional drug overdose is now the second leading cause of accidental death in the United States." I think that's worth some attention.

There are so many facets of addiction: the science behind it, the psychology of it, the broken relationships, the fallout, recovery, the healed relationships, relapse, the grace required, the patterns, the simplicity of it, the complexity of it. And I am by no means an expert on any of it.

Things that would have been easier than writing this post:

• embedding an hour-long video of Dr. Drew (not to be confused with Dr. Phil...or Dr. Dre for that matter, whose upcoming album just so happens to be called Detox). But I couldn't find an hour-long video on YouTube. Your loss. Dr. Drew is the best.
• typing out the 10+ prayer journals I have detailing the saga that my ex-boyfriend and I falsely referred to as a "healthy dating relationship." But I kept picturing my sister opening up her computer, clicking on my blog, and throwing her laptop across the room.

Needless to say—this is the hard thing that hits closest to home for me. My ex-boyfriend, Taylor, is an addict. No, I didn't meet him at a homeless shelter or on the Internet. We met at church. We played worship together in youth group. He has a Bachelor's degree from the private liberal arts college that we both attended. He has two wonderful and loving parents. He drives a nice car.

I say all of this only to point out that I think Taylor is a good example of someone who breaks the mold of what we as "the Church" (or perhaps all of upper-class America) typically picture when we think of a drug addict. The only thing that I respect about addiction is that it doesn't discriminate. And until we recognize the people who are in need, we won't be able to help them in the ways that they need.

What Science Has to Say...

Many would argue that addiction is the epidemic of our generation. Once in the throes of their addiction, addicts all share a common biology—a disorder of the brains reward system. Drugs distort the brain's fundamental motivation systems (loving your family, maintaining your own health) until the brain's biology confuses the message of the drug with the message of survival itself. And because this renders an addict almost always resistant to the very treatment that could save them, many doctors have suggested that severe addicts have a worse prognosis than most cancer patients.

According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA), "between 1991 and 2010, prescriptions for...opioid analgesics increased from about 75.5 million to 209.5 million."

That fact should blow your mind.

[Opioid analgesics/narcotic analgesics are pain relievers. They act on the central nervous system. And they include codeine, morphine, methadone, oxycodone (OxyContin), hydrocodone (Vicodin), fentanyl...etc.]

Can We Change This? 
When I first realized how bad off Taylor was (hint: really bad), I responded by looping Jimmy Eat World's Drugs or Me in my iPod headphones and crying myself to sleep almost every night for a month. Pathetic, yes. But I don't fault myself for it. I know I wasn't overreacting because I'd read over half the addiction memoirs on the market. Spoiler alert: They are all the same. And the story I was living through was the same. Watch any episode from any of the drug-related shows now on television (Intervention, Celebrity Rehab, Addicted, etc.), and you will see the same thing over and over and over again. Loved ones frustrated and scared to the point of tears, weary from trying to save their lying and scheming addict, whose odds are stacked against them. I just summarized 50% of prime time television.

I say all that brazenly, but truthfully, that was me not that long ago. For a time, I made everything in my life about saving Taylor's life. When the professor of a graduate-level writing course I was taking read a piece I wrote about Taylor, he responded with this critique: "Your EX-boyfriend is doing heroin...so what? That's a sentence. Not an essay."
And then I ripped a pillow in half.
But really—after his words settled in, I realized that he'd basically told me what it took my therapist three years to tell me. I need to accept that which I cannot change on my own.

This is the Serenity Prayer. Not-so-coincidentally, it gets corporately recited at the end of every Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Hmmm, I wonder why.

But what about the things that we can change?  
So glad you asked. 
While writing this, I played around with new and creative ways to define addiction because our culture uses the word far too casually and often incorrectly. I found that in many ways, addiction is the opposite of love. There is no balance of truth and grace in it—it's dark, all-consuming and downright deceptive.

If we are ever going to see widespread healing, we have to take the shame out of the disease of addiction.

Secrets, shame, fear and pain all live within the dark. But that's not who we are as believers. We are called to live as children of the light. We are children of the day! Not a single speck of our beings belongs to the night or the darkness (1 Thess. 5:5).

Taylor sent me these verses in a Facebook message once:

Job 17:11-15: 

"My days have passed, my plans are shattered.
   Yet the desires of my heart

turn night into day;
   in the face of the darkness light is near. 

If the only home I hope for is the grave,
   if I spread out my bed in the realm of darkness,

where then is my hope—
   who can see any hope for me?"

We need to be the people who see the hope for those suffering in darkness. 

We try too hard to fix the symptoms and not the heart of the disease. We throw money, empty sermons, rehab, housing, and even food banks at the addicts in our cities, but I believe Christ would do more.

Here are a few ways I've seen the Church further the gap between itself and the chemically dependent population:

• deception. Naively believing that "it could never happen to _____" is only furthering the lie and the problem. Matthew 10:16: “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as cunning as serpents and as innocent as doves." It's time to wise up.
• ignorance. Plenty of people don't know the difference between marijuana and heroin, or that Vicodin is an opiate, and a highly addictive one at that.
• lack of compassion. Imagine yourself in that position. Life is not a 24/7 party. You are literally a slave to a pill or a glass of liquid. You've let down everyone you love. There is no promising light at the end of the tunnel unless someone cares enough to walk you into it.
• judgment. There's a haunting French proverb that says, "We should enter everyone's situation. To understand all is to forgive all." It's safe to say that God, in his sovereign wisdom, is the only one who is capable of accomplishing both these feats. But are we, as humans, even trying?

D.L.M, an author on McSweeney's literary journal, speaks to our role so much better than I ever could: 

"I never thought I would mourn the inability to go back, back to a time when the weight of the world wasn’t on my shoulders. The ever-present voice (I would say Holy Spirit) inside of me is only getting louder: The world is not right, the world is not right. 

...Jesus would not want our lives to be [inconvenienced] just because so many others are. Right? I have looked hard at the facts, and by the grace of God I am starting to understand that I am not special. That I am one of God’s children, and I must do everything in my power to help my brothers and sisters. I can’t promise the key to a good life, but I can tell you that Jesus wanted us to be all up in the human condition."

And how are we supposed to be "all up in the human condition" if we ignore it, hide it, or enable it? Not sure how I made it this far into a post about addiction without saying the word enable. Enable, by its very definition, means "to allow, permit or empower something to happen."

But the only way to fight the evil of addiction is by exposing it. Not so that the person can suffer shame, but so that they can be surrounded by a compassionate community who is aware of the problem and therefore better equipped to pray more specifically, refer help more accurately, and support their loved ones more readily.

One of the worst atrocities I've seen committed in the Christian community is this thing I've started calling the "white picket fence phenomenon." It's the way we as Christians fail at being transparent with one another in an attempt to hide our shortcomings and thereby appear as if we "have it all together." You've seen it before. We've all done it before. It's misleading, deceiving, ungracious and goes against so much of what Christ stood for. And when we try and cover up our own sins, or the sins of our loved ones, we are only encouraging that sin to thrive in the darkness we've created around it. Sometimes we do it out of shame or embarrassment, but oftentimes we do it out of love and a false sense of being able to protect someone we deeply care about.

The Hope We Can't Provide On Our Own

Psalm 107 speaks boldly into the heart of addiction, while promoting a God who fights for his children, even the ones who have imprisoned themselves...

Before witnessing Taylor's addiction, I clumped addicts of all shapes and sizes together in my head and branded them with the words "lost cause." I assumed anyone with an addiction had always been walking down that road and would surely always be on it. Now when I see someone living in that battle, there is a love that wells up inside me. I picture Taylor's face prior to this mess he's in, and I remember all of the color that he used to have in life—his music, his brain, his humungous heart. 

In trying not to dwell on this present darkness, I cannot help but reach into the past to anchor my hope for the future. No one is born a lost cause. And if we don't give up on those who become lost, some of the lucky ones won't have to die that way.
We are the light of the world. We are the city on a hill. We've got to start acting like it.

hard things #1

This is the first installment of "hard things" posts, where I will be talking about—you guessed it—hard things.

My goals through these posts are to:

1. Shed light on the severity of a hard thing without going into histrionics about it.
2. Throw some prayer at the hard thing so that it will go away forever and ever.  

Life is hard. I get it. I think most of us do. Unless you've literally been pampered and protected by your parents all your life, in which case I say unto you, Time to go outside!

Even as I type these very words, people all across our would-be beautiful world are experiencing their lives being ripped apart by:

 famine • addiction • sex trafficking • war

domestic violence • hate crimes • disease

As I mentioned in my last hopefully-not-too-vague-and-depressing post, I've let myself get a tad overwhelmed by the grief of it all lately, and furthermore, by the fact that I feel helpless and hopeless in the face of some of these vast injustices.

I don't like feeling hopeless.

When something seems hopeless, all you can do is pray.

I can already hear some of you...

"ALL you can do is pray, Maddie? But prayer is everything!" 

Yah...I get that. And I'm trying to accept it. But the independent American-bred side of me wants to do, do, do. And sometimes prayer seems more like a lesson in passivity. 

I volunteer in Seattle with a grassroots modern-day abolitionist group called Not For Sale—King County. Our goal is to raise awareness of not only global, but LOCAL sex-trafficking that is taking place within our own county's borders. Through it I've learned some sickening statistics and gross realities of this very real and present problem that is infiltrating our society.

 

The Cold Facts of Modern Slavery 

• A child is trafficked every 30 seconds. – UNICEF
• The average age of entry into commercial sex slavery in the United States is 13 years old. – United States Department of Justice
• Human Trafficking occurs in 161 out of 192 countries. – The United Nations
• Pornography is a 96 billion dollar per year industry. – The Internet Filter Review
• Up to 96% of women in prostitution want to escape but feel they can’t. – United Labor Organization
• Human Trafficking is a 32 billion dollar per year industry. – The United Nations
• In some countries it is estimated that 70% of men purchase sex. – Victor Malarek; The Johns
• Over 27 million people are enslaved around the world. This is more than double the number of Africans enslaved during the Trans-Atlantic slave trade. – Kevin Bales; Free the Slaves

Facts taken straight from Nefarious' website.


We had a big screening and panelist discussion last week, where we showed this documentary, called SEX + MONEY:

 

Because so much of the nature of Not For Sale is simply to raise awareness, I've seen more of these documentaries and interviews than I can count. Some are better and more well-rounded than others. But they all point to the same massive gap in our world.

A few months ago I went to a screening of Nefarious: Merchant of Souls, which I was more impressed with and highly recommend watching:

 

In Amos 5, our God gets down to business and we, his people, get called out:

There are those who oppress the innocent and take bribes
   and deprive the poor of justice in the courts.
Therefore the prudent keep quiet in such times, for the times are evil.

 Seek good, not evil, that you may live.
Then the LORD God Almighty will be with you,
   just as you say he is.

Hate evil, love good;
   maintain justice in the courts.
Perhaps the LORD God Almighty will have mercy
   on the remnant of Joseph.

 Therefore this is what the Lord, the LORD God Almighty, says:

   “There will be wailing in all the streets
   and cries of anguish in every public square.
The farmers will be summoned to weep and the mourners to wail. 

There will be wailing in all the vineyards,
   for I will pass through your midst,” 

says the LORD. 

“I hate, I despise your religious festivals;
   your assemblies are a stench to me.
Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings,
   I will not accept them.
Though you bring choice fellowship offerings,
   I will have no regard for them.
Away with the noise of your songs!
   I will not listen to the music of your harps.

But let justice roll on like a river, 

righteousness like a never-failing stream!" 

And yes, sometimes all we can do is pray.

Pray to the God who is sovereign over all of it somehow.

faint not

Lately I've been feeling extra weighed down by some evils lurking in our world. I hate being vague on the blog, but until I figure out a way to describe some of this in more detail—while remaining sensitive to those it directly involves—you're gonna get some vagueness. 

I know our world is corrupted by sin, and I'm not just talking about the 'stealing from the cookie jar when you're seven' kind of sin. But bless your heart if that's the most you've ever had to deal with. I'm talking about the wicked and evil darkness kind of sin—the kind that is binding and causes widespread suffering—the kind that makes you want to punch walls and scream, "F%*$ you, Satan!"

Sadly, I can usually push it to the sides of my brain in order to keep my heart joyfully afloat in a world that is literally drowning in this kind of depravity, but every once in a while, when it threatens the joy of people I love, it becomes too personal and painful to ignore.

Sometimes I need a little extra reminding that His love and grace is resting peacefully in the shadows, ready to embrace us when we've simply had enough of the darkness and our souls feel like fainting.

And so today I'm thankful for Jenny & Tyler's song, Faint Not.

the problem’s not a gun, not a color, not a hundred dollar bill
we think the struggle can be won with simple thoughts like 'come together be good willed'
the gap between the rich and poor is spreading out all the more or so they say
we ignore the claims

o my soul, faint not, no
faint not | o my soul, keep up, up
in love

it’s not that we don’t know or we’re not shown the proof of poverty
it’s not that we don’t have the tools to go to break this yoke of slavery
we quit because it’s not an easy fix and then forget that they are even there
we forget to care

o my soul, faint not, no
faint not | o my soul, keep up, up
in love

where there is hatred, let me sow love
where there is injury, let me pardon
where there is darkness, let the Light come, come

o my soul, faint not, no
faint not | o my soul, keep up, up
in love

faint not
faint not

denial no more

“I restore myself when I'm alone.” ― Marilyn Monroe

SOMETHING HAPPENED THIS PAST YEAR:

...more like a surprising realization of a long-lived lifestyle rather than an actual event.

If you've asked me how Seattle's going in the past, oohhh…year, I probably responded with something a little more in-depth and psycho-introspective than what you were hoping for. A few months back I had lunch with my friend Ryan (who happens to be a Class V Extrovert), and I told him I was surprised that Seattle had turned me into an introvert.

His quick response: "Maddie. You've always been an introvert. Just embrace it. This is nothing new." 

I protested. But I love people and talking…and I like to think I’m not shy or awkward (usually)...

A few other notable conversations with good friends revealed that I was the only one surprised by the “Maddie = an introvert” equation. And there I had been feeling as if my increasingly hermit-like ways were something I needed to work on! —to fix! 

Seattle hadn’t changed me—rather it had given me the space and time to realize a vital part of my personality that had been with me all along.

Once I stopped being in denial of my very own personality, I was able to look back at my life and see all of the signs I had been ignoring:

Several good friends have always purposely placed me facing away from doors/windows at cafes and coffee shops because I get overly stimulated. 

Whether at a party, loud restaurant or some other crowded gathering, I truly use the restroom as a restroom. Not uncommon for me to lock myself in a stall, throw my back up against the wall, stare at the ceiling and just breathe.

While I know deep down that I’m not riddled with insecurity and anxiety, I hate going to parties without a wingman/woman because it’s such a relief to have just that one side person to focus on when needed.

Things that I love but need to really rally for:

• multiple-day music festivals
• my own birthday
• weddings where I don't know anybody
• weddings where I know everybody
• holiday gatherings with extended family
• makeshift high school reunions at bars
• Fourth of July
• New Year's Eve

WHAT SCIENCE HAS TO SAY:

Introverts are people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction. (j)

On his blog, author and musician Carl King picked apart Doctor Marti Olsen Laney’s book The Introvert Advantage (How To Thrive in an Extrovert World). "If the science behind the book is correct, it turns out that Introverts are people who are over-sensitive to Dopamine, so too much external stimulation overdoses and exhausts them. Conversely, Extroverts can’t get enough Dopamine, and they require Adrenaline for their brains to create it. Extroverts also have a shorter pathway and less blood-flow to the brain. The messages of an Extrovert’s nervous system mostly bypass the Broca’s area in the frontal lobe, which is where a large portion of contemplation takes place. According to the book, only about 25% of people are Introverts. (e)

“Shyness has nothing to do with being an introvert. Introverts are not necessarily afraid of people. What they need is a reason to interact. They don’t interact for the sake of interacting.” (d)

It’s a myth that introverts don’t like to go out in public. “Nonsense. Introverts just don’t like to go out in public FOR AS LONG. They also like to avoid the complications that are involved in public activities. They take in data and experiences very quickly, and as a result, don’t need to be there for long to “get it.” They’re ready to go home, recharge, and process it all. In fact, recharging is absolutely crucial for introverts.” (d)

And regarding friendships: “It is not easy for introverts to make new friends because getting to know someone takes so much energy. However, introverts don’t need a wide circle of friends.” (d)

And in case I started to lose you with all of that serious science mumbo-jumbo…

WHAT THE LITTLE MERMAID HAS TO SAY:

I've always felt a fierce loyalty toward Ariel. We're kindred spirits in a way. She's a classic introvert with extroverted desires. Hanging out in her secret underwater grotto all the time, daydreaming and singing to herself, curious about the people who are "...strollin' along down the—what's that word again?—street!"

(If you want your day to instantly improve, watch Ariel sing her angst-y, teenage introverted heart out here.)

And for those of you who'd like to dive into the Disney Kingdom a bit more, there's also a lively online forum already heading up the discussion on the overwhelming extroversion of Disney princesses.

I think an obvious (while loose) Biblical comparison here would be Luke 2:19:

 "But Mary [read: Ariel] treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."

Which makes a clumsy yet somehow perfect segue into our next segment...

WHAT THE BIBLE HAS TO SAY:

Pastor and author Adam McHugh wrote a book called Introverts in the Church: Finding Our Place in an Extroverted Culture. In it he says, "On a broader scale, I find the fact that God uses people of all different sorts of gifts, abilities, and temperaments, incredibly comforting. Introversion is not a category in the Bible, but the patriarch Jacob was called "a quiet man"...and Jesus' mother Mary was deeply introspective and reflective." (i)

Indeed, even Moses is described as a very meek and shy Biblical character, and is well-known for trying to use it as an excuse to not go where God was sending. But God knows us better than we know ourselves, so He equipped Moses with the tools he would need for success.

McHugh continues with more insight that I absolutely love: 

"More specifically, there is a text in the Old Testament prophet Isaiah that says, "In quietness and in trust shall be your strength." I love the idea that life and the world is bigger than I am, and I don't need to expend all kinds of energy obsessively trying to make everything happen in my life by my own efforts. But I can find strength by quietly trusting in One who is more powerful than I am, and who is even at work when we are silent and at rest." (i)

"Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;

      you formed me in my mother's womb.

   I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!

      Body and soul, I am marvelously made!

      I worship in adoration—what a creation!

   You know me inside and out,

      you know every bone in my body;

   You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,

      how I was sculpted from nothing into something.

   Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;

      all the stages of my life were spread out before you,

   The days of my life all prepared

      before I'd even lived one day."

Psalm 139:13-16

Yep.

WHAT HISTORY HAS TO SAY:

In the science journalist Winifred Gallagher’s words: “The glory of the disposition that stops to consider stimuli rather than rushing to engage with them is its long association with intellectual and artistic achievement. Neither E=mc2 nor ‘Paradise Lost’ was dashed off by a party animal.” (a)

 

Famous Introverts a.k.a. my kindred spirits:

• C.S. Lewis • Michelle Obama • Glenn Close

• Mr. Darcy (yes, the Pride & Prejudice one)  • Marcel Proust 
• Albert Einstein • Google's Larry Page • J. K. Rowling

• Audrey Hepburn • Helen Hunt • Diane Keaton • Grace Kelly  

• Julia Roberts  • Meg Ryan • Meryl Streep • Clint Eastwood

• Harrison Ford • Tom Hanks • Alfred Hitchcock • Steve Martin

 • David Letterman • Diane Sawyer • Barbara Walters

I'm in good company.

Sources:

a) NYTimes b) Gifted Kids Glossary c) The Adventurous Writer: test d) Gifted Kids Social Emotional Issues e) 10 Myths About Introverts f) The Adventurous Writer: Famous Introverts g) Myers Briggs Basics h) Typelogic: INTJ i) Psychology Today j) Introvert Power

above all else

Trippy photo, right?

Above all else, guard your heart,
                          for everything you do flows from it. 

       Proverbs 4:23

Had a short but sweet McConnell's ice cream date at the Santa Barbara Mission rose gardens today with my middle sister, Emme. 
I don't think she realized it then, but she has shown and taught me all sorts of things about the above verse just by the way she lives her life.
I used to always pray, "Lord, please guard my heart because I don't know how to."

Looking back, I think that was a bit of a cop-out on my part. 

But God still followed through on his end of the deal. He tends to do that.

I'll be 26 next week, and I still don't quite have the whole "guarding your heart" thing figured out. 

Also, my sista introduced me to this song. Have a listen—
If you're viewing in Google Reader, click here:

 
"My flesh may fail...but my God, You never will."

a little N. T. Wright

N. T. Wright is simply the man...especially when it comes to anything theological.

Do yourself and your faith a whopping huge favor and take under 7 minutes out of your day to listen to this man talk about "how to read the Bible"...

Click HERE.
Or here: http://vimeo.com/31700217


For some sad reason, certain videos are non-embed-able, and people make you pay for their use. 
I doubt Mr. Wright would be into that, but no one asked me...

I plan on taking a couple hours this week and reading straight through the Gospel of John. 

Join me?

Mercer Island morning

I love having hand models. Thanks KK.

  

Some g-free, wheat-free, yeast-free, sugar-free baking occurred this morning. 

On an island, no less. 

I don't care if you're on a diet where you need gluten, wheat, yeast and sugar desperately—you should still make these little guys. 

They have chamomile tea in them. In other words, they reek of fall.

Chamomile & Honey Almond Meal Muffins

from Roost, with minor adjustments

• 2 cups finely ground almond flour (I used meal—is there really a difference?)
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 2 TBS finely chopped dried chamomile flowers (I opened four organic chamomile tea bags)
• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup melted Earth Balance
• 1/4 cup honey

Mix until well everything is well incorporated. Pour into lined muffin tins. Bake for 25-30 minutes at 350F (or until golden brown). The tops tend to get toasty quickly.

Makes 6 muffins...so probably just decide from the get-go that you're going to double them.

I visited Korinne on her Isle this morning. Most people just refer to it as Mercer Island, but why not add some exotic to your daily life...

Not working til 1pm means a brisk Autumn walk and a short trip to Stopsky's Jewish bakery for a 'cano and chai. Yum.

This is Korinne's "we have minimum five more months of this weather" face. 

Wet leaves are only pretty for so long, it's true. Same with scarves, puffy vests, hoodies, wool socks and Uggs. All of which we found necessary to wear on our morning outing today.

This morning I also stumbled across this prayer by Thomas Merton.

(Sounds weird to say "prayer by _____" ...no?)

Anyway, it's good. And just hit the spot.

My Lord God

I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself,

and the fact that I think I am following

your will does not mean

that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that my desire to please you

does in fact please you.

And I hope that I have that desire

in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything

apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this

you will lead me by the right road

though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always

though I may seem to be lost

and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear,

for you are ever with me,

and you will never leave me

to face my perils alone.

- Thomas Merton (1915-1968)