Girrrrrl, Oh No She Di'int.....

We have all done it.  The victims are our friends, family and even strangers.  It's automatic; we don't notice it and we'll swear we didn't do it.  But you know you did.  You've done it today, as a matter of fact.  You've looked at someone else and thought "What the heck....?"  I'm not talking about the wardrobe choices of the pajama crew at Walmart because, lets face it, there is a level of appropriateness that eludes our society; I'm talking about the lady in the mall with collagen lips, the guy with hair plugs or the orange girl with blue teeth who went tanning and whitening just a teensy bit too much.  You judge them.  I judge them.  I look at them and think "Oh no she di'int!!  She could have bought a car for that!" 

While the act is not new, the term is - body snarking.  I just read an article on it the other day and, until it was pointed out to me by the author, I didn't realize I was participating in such meaness.   We aren't straight out calling someone ugly, four eyes, or brace face.  No, what we do is much, much worse.  We make little comments to the friends who are with us or put a snippet (or worse, a photo) on Facebook, but we are behaving worse than one of those hurtful high school girls that we couldn't wait to never see again.  We say little things like "What the heck did 'so and so' do to her hair?" or "you can tell those aren't real".  We aren't supportive of what others think looks good or makes them feel good (oh! but we expect it).  Where does this come from?  Envy? Hurt?  Our own insecurity?  I mean, honestly, how many people have said that Christina Aguilera, since she gained a few pounds (after going through a divorce), is FAT?  She's a size 3, for crying out loud!  Fat for what, a 7 year old girl? 

There is some crazy, ridiculous need to compare ourselves with others; to justify what WE think looks good or seems appropriate. And don't think that fat girls do it any more than skinny girls, or vice versa; this transcends our own appearance and comes from our very soul.  I'm overweight and have a body that needs enough repairs to pay for a plastic surgeon's vacation dream home,  yet I have said to a friend of a passerby, "Sweet Moses, what did she do to her lips?"  The reality is, she thinks she is beautiful.  She saved her money, made countless appointments and went through pain, all to do something to make herself feel better.  Am I jealous that she would do that for herself while I fret over spending $20 on a pair of shoes or 30 minutes by myself at the gym?  What is wrong with me that I can't allow her to be her own version of beautiful?  I think when one comes to the edge of being overdone, it is the best friend's job to say something, not some stranger on the street.  That just fuels the insecurity that was already there. 

The truth is, these earthly vessels are temporary and I can only pray that we are each putting in as much work on our insides as we do on our outsides.  Secretly, I hope that our heavenly bodies are fat, round face, chunky rumped, little cherrubs.  Wouldn't that be the kicker to all the gym memberships and Weight Watchers fees I've paid. 

What Would You Die For?

When I was young, I used to cringe when my mother and grandmother (Gigi)  would insist that I clear my plate because there were starving children in China who could eat off my leftovers for weeks (eye roll).  As far as I was concerned, I would have used my .25 cent dusting money from Aunt Mil to ship the Chinese kids my liver and broccoli.   Then they would remind me that we knew and supported missionaries who lived in China and other, in my young mind, awful countries, (uh, hello, they wanted to eat my leftover liver....), and that we should be grateful to live in America.  I grew up with an appreciation of American freedoms because we went to church every Sunday, and any other day we pleased, without fear that men with rifles would storm in to kill us.  As I grew up, the world did too and so many other countries had vamped up in their thinking.  Only what we would call the third world countries suffered and I imagined everyone else was hanging out, drinking coffee and wearing Levis.  

Not too long ago, I heard, what I later found out, was an older song by the Newsboys called "He Reigns".  The first time I heard the song, I became so choked up that I couldn't speak.  I still get that way every time it circles around on my playlist.  The words are:

"It's the song of the redeemed, rising from the African plain.  It's the song of the forgiven, drowning out the Amazon rain.  The song of Asian believers, filled with God's holy fire.  It's every tribe, every tongue, every nation, a love song born of a grateful choir. 

It's all God's children singing Glory, glory, hallelujah, He reigns, He reigns!  It's all God's children singing Glory, glory, hallelujah, He reigns, He reigns!

Let it rise about the four winds, caught up in the heavenly sound.  Let praises echo from the towers of cathedrals, to the faithful gathered underground.  Of all the songs sung from the dawn of creation, some were meant to persist.  Of all the bells rung from a thousand steeples, none rings truer than this. 

And all the powers of darkness, tremble at what they've just heard.  'Cause all the powers of darkness Can't drown out a single word....When all God's children sing out, Glory, glory, hallelujah, He reigns, He reigns! All God's people singing, Glory, glory, hallelujah, He reigns, He reigns!"

Wow!  "The faithful gathered underground"?  My head flooded with visions of all these terrified Asian, African, Indian and Arab faces, hiding in tiny rooms, quietly trying to worship our Lord and keep from being murdered for their beliefs, but knowing in full faith that the Lord will watch and keep them.  Here in America, we say we support religious freedom, but one mention of God and we are considered a 'fanatic'; one Jesus fish on your car and BAM you're a religious nut. How is that being free?  It's more normal these days to see a monkey sticker on someones car that says "I fling poo" (ok, don't get me wrong, they are just plain funny) than to see a Jesus fish. 

What I'm saying is that, there are still people in this world who die for what they believe.  While we, as Americans, are heading out on Sunday morning, sighing because it's a nice day and we don't want to go to church, picking up a Starbucks so we can "stay awake" during another boring sermon, carrying our Coach covered Bible and matching purse, there are truly people dying out there for, what many, consider a weekly inconvenience.  Then there are those who have chosen to just not go to worship because they've not been in so long, that the guilt doesn't sting anymore.  What exactly are you willing to die for?  Something you believe in or something you have chosen to ignore and assume will just be there one day? The Pledge of Allegiance?  The Star Spangled Banner?  Christmas?  President's Day?  Sunday church service (insert denomination here)? Americans have let, not their choices, but their choice to choose dominate our lives and we are so worried about having the freedoms we aren't getting that we forget about the freedoms we have.  For now.  So, what are you willing to die for? 

Guilty!

In the past week or so, there has been a lot of craziness going on in our world, some in our own community, and the judgments are flying.  Some of these people have committed unspeakable crimes and some have been accused of something as small as bad judgement.  We, as humans, put a price on sin and we have assigned the harshest earthly penalties to murderers, child molesters, rapists, drug dealers and terrorists.  

The Bible says that God can not look upon sin and that all sins are equal, in His eyes. The Ten Commandments pretty much covered it all.  The Lord sees my gossiping, coveting, judgmental heart, love of overeating and disobedience the same way He sees the murderers, child molesters, tax evaders, and thieves; we are sinners.  And He loves us, so much in fact, that He sent His only son to die for our sins.  He loves the sinner, not the sin.

We do not want to try to comprehend this. We want to believe, in our human mind, that bad people go to hell and good people go to heaven; that we are somehow categorized separately.  Even people I know who have accepted Christ as their Savior have a hard time accepting this.  The fact is, the only time frame on repentance, is our death.  Serial killers, child molesters, drug dealers and their minions all have the opportunity to to truly repent to Christ and go to heaven, before their last breath.

My point is, we should not be so outwardly judgmental of others and their sins.   I have seen statements this week that we should hang people, give them lethal injection, get trampled by an animals or die in the desert.  How are we behaving better than the sinner we are condemning?  I'm not saying they shouldn't face legal punishment; I'm saying that we should examine our own lives before we start shouting out punishments for others.  It is not easy but it should be something we strive for.  I am grateful that God sent His son to live and die to wash me clean and that He has laid conviction on my heart about being so judgmental.  The truth is, I want Jesus to look at me and see that, no matter how many times I failed, my heart was prayerfully trying.  

My Secrets

My secrets are in my treasures. Only those who know me best will know which treasure has a hidden story. Gifts from lost loves and best friends, teenage dreams and items that cost way to much, but were a necessary at the time.

Trinkets like a dime with the edges cut off, an Irish ring, a snow globe, a dog tag, a shirt, a photo, a pair of carved wood girls, half a necklace, a rusty pocket knife.

The people who know these treasures' secret span the course of 31 years and each know a different piece of the puzzle. Someday, when I am gone, these treasures will find a new home, but their secret will lay locked in the dusty fingerprints of the past.

This Is Not How My Life Is Supposed To Be

This is not how my life it supposed to be.  My mother is not supposed to have stage 3 pancreatic cancer.  My husband is not supposed to be struggling with multiple illnesses.  My 3 children are not supposed to be completely clueless to the point of non functioning, unless asked.  My mother in law is not supposed to have a brain injury and dependent on us/others for assistance.  My brother is not supposed to have a practically broken back at age 37.  No!  This is not how my life is supposed to be.

At age 9, I knew that, without a shadow of a doubt, I was going to be a legal secretary and my bestie/brother, Pete, was going to be the lawyer I worked for.  It was very simple; big San Diego law firm, money, nice things, big house.  It was all laid out and there were no foreseeable problems.  I would go to San Diego State University for my degree.  My 9 year old brain could clearly see the beautiful cherry wood furniture that sat next to a window that overlooked the ocean in my fancy law firm office.  I would have gorgeous business suits and beautiful shoes and a real leather briefcase.  Oh yeah, this is how my life was supposed to be and it was going to be blissfully perfect.   

Fast forward to today, through a life that has had as many peaks and valleys as the Rocky Mountains. Today I am angry.  I wish I could say I was doing my best to be positive and encourage others during this trial, but I'm not; I am angry.  And exhausted.  And disappointed in myself.  I am not doing a good job of encouraging others.  I was leaving work this morning and I was just seething.  I'm angry at the way people treat each other at my workplace; if you feel the need to step on others to get to the top then I will stand by, out of the way, and watch while the giant boot of life comes and crushes you like a grape.  I'm angry at the gossiping being done at my church; there are some major planks trying to pull out some splinters.  I'm angry at my family for being able to mindlessly walk right by the basket of clean clothes in the laundry room, for 2 weeks straight, never seeing them there, causing me to have to rewash my horridly wrinkled clothes on my day off.  I'm angry that my mom has days that she is so weak that she can't sit up to eat.  I'm angry that one of my teenagers smeared ketchup on the other's face because he thinks it's funny and didn't care that he's wasting food that costs way more than it should. I am angry that the panic wells up in me to the point that eyeballs start bouncing, when the truth is that I should be giving God all my worries.  I am I'll-kick-you-square-in-the-shin-and-not-blink angry.   

I am ashamed that I am not being a better daughter, wife, mother and friend because of my anger.  I'm ashamed that I am not releasing these feelings and problems to God with lightening speed, allowing Him to handle them because He's way more qualified.  I am ashamed that I'm reading tabloids to escape my own head instead of reading the Bible.  I am ashamed at the anger I have for people who just don't get it; I should have sympathy, but I'm having a hard time feeling that right now.  I am ashamed that I just can't seem to stop snapping on people and, while it's usually warranted, it's definitely not deserved (yes, there is a difference).  I am ashamed that my human mind tells me God seems so far away when the truth is, He's carrying me.  I am ashamed that nothing good and wholesome seems to be able to come out of my mouth.

This is not how my life is supposed to be; so angry and ashamed and just plain done with everything and everyone.  I'm supposed to be tenderly walking with my mom and caring for her during this time.  I'm supposed to be supportive and loving to my husband through his trials.  I'm supposed to be encouraging to my kids.  I'm supposed to be listening to and cheering on my best friends through their daily lives.  I'm supposed to be smiling at strangers and radiating God's love.  The problem here is me; not letting go or taking a cleansing breath because I'm afraid it will be construed as a sign of weakness.  But being angry is weak. I'm not acting like who I know I am; one of God's beloved children.  That is my fault and only I can fix it because this is how my life is supposed to be.  If it were any other way then it wouldn't be mine.  Yes, this is exactly how it's supposed to be. 

Balance Push

Tonight was my little brother's college graduation.  At 36 years old, and 19 years after he left the halls of BHS and Central High, he walked up to the graduation platform in the gymnasium at Barstow Community College and walked away with an AS in Welding and an AA in Humanities with the honors of PTK and Magna Cum Laude.  My mother watched, while feeling grateful for her attendance, and I know my father would have been swelling with pride for his boy. 

Graduations invoke the same feeling in me of watching a Broadway show, musical or ballet performance.  There is a certain grandeur of the evening; you can feel the dreams and hopes filling the room and it's a reminder of things you could have been while a jab in the ribs that anything can still be attained.  When I attend a show, I am captivated by all elements of the performance.  I acknowledge the hard work the actors put in to learn their lines, the practicing done by the musicians, the painting and logistics of the stage crew and the stress of the director.  I remember how the dancers feel, checking their costumes and make up one more time, praying they don't miss a step.  I cringe for the musicians when I hear a wrong note because I have faced the same horror, praying that no one else noticed.  In the end, however, there is a sense of accomplishment and swelling of pride that cannot be matched and makes knowing you will do it all again tomorrow seem less terrifying. 

Each time I attend a graduation, whether it be 8th grade or college, I feed off the energy and excitement in the room; the band warming up in the back, the staff clearing the aisles for the graduates and the audience chattering in the stands.  Something exciting is about to happen.  I reflect back to my high school and college graduations and the college graduations of friends and other family and I can identify with what it took to get there.  The homework, sacrificing what I wanted to do for what I needed to do, and reading books that I didn't like or necessarily agree with.  Every action has lead the graduates to this very moment and each is overcome with a sense of pride and accomplishment that makes going on to higher learning tomorrow seem less terrifying. 

Tonight, while watching and listening, I saw a Marine Officer in Dress Blues on the graduation platform sitting with the other distinguished guests and board members.  I soon learned that he was Colonel Daniel Ermer, the Commencement Speaker for the evening and the Commanding Officer at MCLB Barstow.  After a very lengthy introduction, he stepped up to the podium and said "I know you just listened to all my accomplishments, but don't worry about all that".  He immediately had my attention.  I knew he had something more to say; more than just some awards and degrees, which I will be the first to point out, were very prestigious and well deserved, and the usual “you can do it” speech.  Col. Ermer began to share with the graduates the secret to life that he imparts to his Marines and civilian employees called Balance Push.

Balance Push is the art of balancing life while pushing forward; one cannot exist without the other.  Balance is made up of three components; mind, body and spirit. The mind must always be striving for knowledge and stable in its thoughts.  The body must be healthy and in top performing shape.  The spirit, while it doesn't have to be religious spiritual, is who you know you are and keeping that alive and healthy.  Col. Ermer used the analogy of a 3 legged stool, stating that if you were to stand on top of this 3 legged stool, you would have to balance carefully in order to not topple over. 

Col. Ermer then said that the push is from family, friends, instructors, co-workers and others in your life who are there to push you forward to reach your goals and hold you accountable. He said "If you have come up with a plan for something, have you shared it with someone?”  Col. Ermer said he tells each of his employees to run 3 miles a day.  If they can’t run 3 miles a day, run 2.  If they can’t run 2 miles, run 1.  If they can’t run 1 mile, then walk it.  He asked the question "Graduates, is this your end goal?  Is this the pinnacle of your life and success?" 

Col. Ermer's address left my mind reeling and my spirit was overflowing with a renewed determination for life.  I realized what a gift it is for someone to ask you to hold them accountable and to push them forward towards a balanced life, which truly is attainable.  I also realize how hard it is to ask for that help from someone and it should not be taken lightly nor brushed to the side. 

I usually leave graduation thinking that tomorrow I will work out for 3 hours, sign up for, and complete, a Master’s program and clean out all my closets, all in one day.  I end up doing none of the above.  Today, though, I will park further from the store, read a new and interesting book and go through last weeks’ junk mail, while pushing forward and striving for the balance that makes me, well, me.  A better me.