Sunday, November 6, 2011

Being violated, and envious

So if you read my last blog post, you saw how I was experiencing gratitude to God for finding me a cheap house in Wheaton to live in. Well, turns out that whole thing was a scam. Pretty pathetic when I go back and read my last post now...haha. Oh well. I didn't lose any money, so praise the Lord for being faithful to me EVEN when I was naive!

Getting scammed isn't a very good feeling. Its this helpless angst that you can't defend yourself from or against. I did not enjoy the feeling. Its the same feeling you have if you have ever had your car broken in to. My car was broken into about 2 months ago. Surprisingly they didn't take the GPS or ipass. They trashed it pretty good though, broke my glove compartment so that now its permanently open and totally ghetto-fied my already pretty ghetto car. Fortuanetly I don't lock my car because it is a softtop convertible, so they didn't have to break in, and they didn't even steal that I know of. But its this feeling like you have been violated, and you can't retaliate or seek justice. I also had my bike stolen July 4th. Again, being taken advantage of is not pleasant.

Today in church we learned about Envy. Wow is that not an American sin or what? My pastor told us this new word that people are saying about americans: comparinoia. Comparison to others on a paranoid level. We all want what others have, or we struggle to rejoice when others rejoice.  He referred to a writer who pointed out that of all the deadliest sins, envy is the only one that doesn't make anyone feel good. No one ever enjoys this sin. Its like a disease that eats away at your joy, contentedness and gratitude. Literally it makes the soul sick.
Envy, like so many of the deady sins, is so easily ignored.  Think about it: how often have you repented of envy?
I think I may struggle with envy more than most, being on the low end of the financial totem pole. I haven't let it go so far as to fuel my career choices or decisions, but it sure can rise to the level of anger and wrath if I let it. I've never driven a car newer than a 1995 (which makes all my cars over 15 years old). And I (or my dad) never paid over $2500 for a single one of them (not including all the money put in to them to keep them running). I am known by at least 3 auto shops in the Wheaton area because my cars are there so often. I've never had both A/C and heat except in the Land Rover I had for two years. Quite honestly I'm afraid to drive my roommates and friend's cars because I don't even know how to get them started these days with those push button starters. This picture is what the thermostat on the INSIDE of my car would tell me everyday on the way to work this summer.

And yet, having old cars that run only when you kiss the hood and tap your heels three times while singing "La Bamba" has taught me how to be grateful. When my car starts in the morning as I go to work, I promise you, I say "Thank you LORD!" and I feel so happy! The simple thing of transportation is such a huge blessing in my life. Yes it is an area that could elicit much humiliation and embarassment, but only if I give in to my envious tendancies and let it fester and make me ungrateful for what I have. My '95 car that is finicky in cold weather and sometimes doesn't start for no reason is my "manna". It supplies what I need in that moment ( Lord willing). Just like the Lord supplied the Israelites with a divine loaf that contained all necessary nutrients in the "manna", so the Lord provides our needs. They just might not be what we think we need, and especially not what we want.
I want a newer car. I want a kindle. I want a nice camera. I want a horse. I want to be able to fly home whenever I get homesick. I want to be able to give others out of my abundance, instead of being the person who is blessed all the time by other people's wealth and generosity. I don't like getting stressed out before the next paycheck. I want to have a career that I don't feel ashamed to claim when I go back to Wheaton and see former classmates.
Whenever I take Cora to the dog park I get jealous of how obedient other people's dogs are. It breeds resentment quickly towards Cora. But I have to remember how much joy she brings me.
Do you see how easily this destroys our joy? When that envy becomes a focus, it truly feels like a horrible disease we can't get over. But there is an anitbiotic! Praise the King of Kings for grace that covers all my comparinoia. Lord, let me be in this world but not of it. Show me what that looks like. I will continue to drive my car, and learn to be grateful (just get me to work on time!!).

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

faith-fulness

Faithfulness. Thats what God has taught me about himself. I love this word: faith=fullness. Fullness of peace, joy, and perseverence. Fullness of God. All because of faith.

The  Lord proved his faithfulness to me this weekend. As I was starting to plan on moving out west, I got onto craigslist and searched rentals. Long story short, I found an ad for a home in Wheaton, and the family are missionaries in Nigeria where my dad grew up. They have been praying for the right tenant, and when I told them who I was they prayed about it and decided to rent their home to me for only $725 a month, utilities included. WOW! God is faithful. We will move in the first week in January. I am so excited! I won't have to leave this place that has become home to me. This house is exactly the confirmation I needed. Praise the Lord!

What are some areas in your life where you have felt full? Fullness in your relationships? Fullness in your career? Fullness in your home? Fullness in your church body? I think fullness is primarily an emotion, but I think it can also be a state of mind. For example the emotion of fullness would include a sense of well being, happiness and joy. The state of mind of fullness would be more like hope, contentment, and trust. Having fullness as a mindset would mean tapping into the plumbline of God's infinite love, grace, and goodness. Because of Him we are full. I think the mindset is more reliable than the emotion, even if the emotion seems more tangible.  I also think that we can choose our mindsets, we can't always choose our emotions. Emotion is raw. Mindsets are calculated emotion.  Its a honing in of all the best, most powerful parts of emotion into a focus that ultimately benefits. Take anger. It is a powerful emotion. It can produce vice or virtue. For example, anger on Maury is probably going to lead to vive or sin (if it hasn't already). But anger in terms of an unprotected or starving child could very well elicit virtue. A mindset of calculated anger would be more like a hidden drive or ambition. Abviously it can be a positive in terms of helping a child, or it could be deadly by provoking to sin. Fullness as a mindset could lead to the desire to retain the fullness, or a satisfaction that results in apathy (sin of omission).

Is your fullness a mindset or an emotion? As an emotion, if tastes good only while the causes of it are present. If your fullness comes from anything besides the plumbline to Jesus, its like drinking the water in Voldemort's horcrux that does not quench your thirst but only increases it. Whereas fullness in Christ both satiates you and gives the ability to hold more as more is dispensed. Fullness in Christ overflows. You pour out to others so you are poured back into. Its completely worth it. Because God is faithful to pour into you as long as you are willing to receive!

Ephesians 3:17-21
"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen"

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

In Loving Memory of Patricia Brooks

Last night I called my Grandma. Like I said from Entry 1, her health has been declining rapidly. Hospice told us we had a few weeks, so I wanted to talk to her sooner rather than later when she wouldn't understand me. I called at 7:30 pm Monday. Kyle handed her the phone, and I could hear her labored breathing. I said "Hi Grandma, its Kelly!" and she said in a garbeled sort of way that was barely intelligible, "Hey Darlin'." Thats the way she's said it my whole life. I could tell she was really laboring. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat and said "I talked to Helen (my cousin) yesterday Grandma. We talked about you. I was remembering all the things you had taught me. You taught me how to read my Bible. You taught me how to pray. Do you remember that, when I was little? (I'm crying by this point) And Grandma, you are the one who taught me how to write in cursive and put my fingers in the right place on the pen." She was trying to reply, I could tell. But I couldn't understand her. She was animated though. And that was something. Then I said "And Grandma, you know how you always prayed I would meet a good man who would marry me no matter how tall I was? Well I believe that I will meet him one day. And it will be thanks to your prayers. And I'm sorry you will never get to meet him, but I'll tell him about you." I'm rambling at this point, and trying to make her understand through my cry-voice. And she said the most intelligible thing then, I could make it out clearly: "It will be God's choice" and I knew she meant about my one-day husband. And I had no more words. I pulled it together to tell her how much I loved her and to sleep well.
I didn't know it would be the last time I would talk to her. Or that besides Kyle, Brittany, Mom and Papa, I would be the last to speak to her. And I'm so so grateful. I will always have that.
Brittany said that after they had already put Grandma to bed in the hospital bed and Papa to bed in their bed, they heard Papa get up. They went to check on him and found him tucking Grandma's arms in the covers. He doted on her for a minute before bending over and kissing her on the forehead. Then he sat in the armchair next to her and watched her for a while, probably praying, but watching her. Then eventually he got back up and went to bed himself.
I got the call this morning around 7 am from both Mom and Brittany. When I saw the caller ID that it was them that early, I knew what it meant. I couldn't answer because I had just arrived at work. But I listened to the voicemails.
Grandma is with her Jesus now. She's whole, and she's with Michael! Oh what a glorious day. Like my Aunt (Michael's mom) said today, Michael's showing her around heaven :) And we are praising the Lord because of her blessed assurance. I've been singing that song all day...
  1. Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
    Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
    Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
    Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
    • Refrain:
      This is my story, this is my song,
      Praising my Savior all the day long;
      This is my story, this is my song,
      Praising my Savior all the day long.
  2. Perfect submission, perfect delight,
    Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
    Angels, descending, bring from above
    Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
  3. Perfect submission, all is at rest,
    I in my Savior am happy and blest,
    Watching and waiting, looking above,
    Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.





    Grandma: Entry 3

    Continued from Entry 2 and 1:

    Another fond memory is when Grandma saw me eating a slice of cheese by itself. She was horrified that I would snack on that alone. Apparently it wasn't adequate. She would also pay me and Kyle a quarter if we drank our entire glass of milk. And we always had ice cream in a cone for dessert. It was our special treat...only if we at all our food. And that was more of a challenge when she was the one who did the cooking. Compared with my mom who was a caterer, Grandma wasn't particularly gifted in the culinary arts. There were times that my mom could barely swallow some of the food....oh those were funny moments! Always seeking to avoid any offence though, we swallowed until we gagged sometimes. I distinctly remember floppy, chewy, yellowy asparagus. And extremely over-lemoned tilapia. And lots and lots of peas. Always peas. And we had to eat our Lima beans with applesauce. Oh, and one could never forget the waffles. If you even know our family, you know about Grandma's Waffles. They were her own special recipe. She even included it in the back of her novel. If you followed the recipe just right and didn't overcook them, you just might turn out a perfect replica both in taste and texture of a 5x5 piece of cardboard. Syrup didn't quite do it, no matter the quantity. If you were lucky enough to be graced with the opportunity to join us on a Waffle day, you would not forget it. And you would have an early lunch once you left.

    One thing that was always a tough subject for us was my singleness. Grandma never understood why I was/am always single. She wanted to hear all the details of any and every banquet date I had. How they asked me. What we did. Was he interested in me? Was I in him? Why not? Without fail, I would get the question "So have you met anyone at school?" Then in college "Have you met anyone up there yet? Any boys from the basketball team?". Then my sophomore year when I left for college, grandma informed me that she had asked God to send me "a tall, handsome Baritone, so that he can sing with you!" If you knew my Grandma, you would know that she and God have serious conversations. So I actually half believed her! It was the one dream of hers she had for me: to see me happily paired with a tall, handsome man who would provide for me. Its a dream that she will never see fulfilled now since she's gone. And for that my heart breaks, because it was a dream of mine too. But its a dream I know God will fulfill in His own time. But I would have loved for her and Papa to dance at my wedding. I asked them to dance at Kyle's. After Papa's accident, they were physically unable to. It was a miracle that they were both alive and present to witness at least one of their 15 grandchildren getting married. What a gift that was!

    But, conversely, maybe I'm single because I never heeded Grandma's advice: she told me never to wear heels, that I was already tall enough, and guys don't like girls that are too tall. She was never a short woman herself, so I always wondered at that because she wore heels in some of her pictures. And during my particularly pertinent years, I would wear the biggest heels I owned whenever I would stop by their house after church. Oh, did that get a reaction out of her! You would have thought I had decided to be celibate or lesbian with the way she thought I repelled men in heels! I loved it.

    The one area she was truly proud of me was my music. She loved to hear me sing. Sometimes when I was over, she'd play the piano for me and sing with me to the hymns she loved. Papa and Grandma always had to be coerced to attend any of my volleyball or basketball games, but they were always there for any recital or other musical performance. I remember being told one time how she had bragged on my singing. It made me so proud! And then she told me I got it from my great great grandmother, the one she eventually wrote her novel about. I was so happy about that! I felt I had received a special gift/talent as a heritage, or even an heirloom. When my cousin Helen ended up also possessing a beautiful soprano voice, we would sing together for the family. Grandma loved those times.

    Grandma was never particularly good at the doting-affectionate-grandmotherly role. But she loved our family reunions with a passion. I loved the traditions that her and Papa implemented: of spending either Christmas or Thanksgiving together each year in alternating fashion. The usual spread at family meals. The strict adherence to the rule of the adults sitting at the adult table, and the kids sitting at the kids table. This has continued even as the oldest 6 grandkids are in or done with college.

    As a family, we would always pray together. Always. We would read scripture for a long time, and we would pray. And each of us, no matter our age, would have to pray. God was always the center of our family. And my Grandmother prided herself on having four wonderful godly children who married four wonderful godly spouses and raised 15 wonderful god-fearing grandkids, two of which have found wonderful godly soulmates. Grandma prayed for all those things, every day, and with all her heart. Even though she will never see her prayer for me and my marriage fulfilled, I know that God will answer her in His time. And that is a comfort, because even though she won't be here for it, she will most definitely have had a hand in it.

    Like I mentioned, Grandma loved her classic romance stories. Anything John Wayne was a particular favorite, as well as the old hollywood musical duo Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald. That was the couple my grandma based my future off of. If Jeanette was able to find a hunk who could sing, why not me? I ask myself the same question Grandma: why not me?

    And Grandma loved her treats. I don't really remember a time when there wasn't a carton of ice cream in their freezer. Mint Cholocate Chip. Sometimes something lush like Moose Tracks. But always Vanilla. She loved her store bought Aldi cookies. There was one time when Kyle and I went shopping with her at the Harris Teeter across from Carolina Day School. We had a whole cart full of grocery bags, and Grandma had us wait for her with the cart while she got the car. She picked us up, and the next thing we knew we were halfway home when Kyle turned around in the back seat of their Honda station wagon and declared that we'd forgotten the groceries! That was a funny time. The only part of Grandma's reaction that I remember, besides her surprise, was her laughing and laughing. Looking back at that now, I would do well to take a tip from her behavior then.


    Sunday, September 11, 2011

    Grandma: Entry 2

    Continued from entry 1:

    After that, at some point Grandma started writing, and speaking, and traveling around to do conferences. She wrote over 15 books, many of which were quite popular, with thousands of copies sold on a few of them. You can see a list of her books here at Amazon.com. You can also google her. Who else can say that they can Google their grandmother and get real results on Amazon?

    Growing up, my grandparents had an in-home publishing company. I don't remember exatly when it ended...my dad knows all the details. But they called their company 2 Chronicles 7:14. That verse is my grandma's hallmark. She uses it for every login password once she started using a computer, unless it has to be short, in which case she uses Jesus is Lord.

    Some of my earliest memories are the following: one time when I was young we went to a book conference/fair where grandma had a booth of her books. She had a speaking engagement there too. It was at Bob Jones University, the notoriously third strictest college in the nation. I specifically remember her telling me I should go there when I grew up. Thank God I didn't.

    I also remember my grandparents reading scripture for many hours each day. When my brother and I would sleep over, first of all I didn't particularly look forward to it. Grandma was never very adept at the "grandmotherly" things. For example, some Christmases and Birthdays we would be given money that went directly into our stock accounts that she controlled. I remember the first time she did this. I didn't mind until I found out that there were no "second" backup gifts, or that I wouldn't be able to get to the money until I was 18. I was pretty upset after that. But then one Christmas she gave me the Love Comes Softly series by Jeanette Oak. I thought it would be boring and old fashioned like other books she recommended to me. But to my intense surprise and pleasure, it became one of my favorite and first romantic novels. The series plunged me deep and irreversibly into the world of romantic fiction, of which I have been an avid follower ever since. She informed me that all girls needed to experience good romance.

    That is one of my favorite things about Grandma. She is profoundly intellectual, analytical, deliberate, opinionated, controlling and insensitive on many accounts. But she is a hopeless romantic. And that was the one area we were always able to connect on. When she wrote her first novel, it was based in part on the story of her grandmother, my great grandmother. I was fascinated and riveted by the tragic love story played out in my own ancestral history. My great great grandmother was an Opera singer. She had an incredible voice that awed audiences, or so my great grandmother said. But she was forced into a marriage to a horrible man who forbade her to sing for anyone but him. And her voice died in her throat, along with her spirit. Isn't that so tragic? That happened! That was my ancestor! And I loved hearing all the stories about it. Grandma and Papa even traveled to Scotland and Ireland to visit landmarks from our history, for Grandma's research for her novel. They also did a 2 year stint of missions work in New Zealand. They traveled to some awesome places. And I get to claim that Grandma asked me to read and “edit” her first manuscripts of her novel about my great great grandmother. I loved that. I was the first family member to read it.

    Grandma: Entry 1

    I got the call today that Hospice evaluated my Grandmother's failing health, and informed us that based on her condition she only has a few more weeks to live. Her health has steadily and marginally declined every day since my Pap'as accident a year ago. In the last few months she has fallen into the merciless fingers of Dementia and all the side-effects of that horrid disease. I wanted to record some of my memories now, while I can still call her and remind her of them. I will probably be posting these memories frequently over the next weeks. They are mainly my way of processing and coping. They are also for my family. I'm going to tell you about her and who she was to me and for me.
    A bit of background:
    My grandmother is a pretty impressive woman. She grew up a pretty little flirt, all the rage with the boys. She was quite the looker. She went to Duke University and met her 3 best friends. They called themselves the Boresome Foursome. They did all kinds of crazy things. My grandma's freshman year roommate was a total hippy, according to Grandma. She smoked everything, and "slept in the nude". Grandma promptly requested a room transfer. One of the boresome foursome, Joyce Wine, is still her closest friend to this day. They were each others maid-of-honor, and they saw each other almost every year of their life. Joyce is a florist. Her husband is hilarious. I loved when they would come and visit because Grandma would try to impose her rules of the house on them, and Lyman would have none of it! One time during dinner Lyman started to snag some cookies before the meal was over. She told him he had to clean his plate before he could have dessert (the dessert that he brought) and he told her her would eat his dessert whenever he pleased no matter what she said! We all died laughing, and it was the first time I'd ever seen my grandmother be truly put in her place with so few words. I loved Lyman from that moment. And Joyce would always bring the most beautiful arrangements of flowers for the table.

    After her first year at Duke, my grandma transferred to Tufts University. Although she was studying English and Writing, she informed me early on that most women go to college to get their M.R.S. degree. I didn't understand that till I was older. Then I found it quite amusing. But she went on after college to be an English professor. She met my papa, Richard F. Brooks, who was a complete stud back then. There's a picture of my papa with his brothers, and when I saw it for the first time I didn't believe it at first. No joke, they looked like Abercrombie models. All four of them. And Grandma and Papa's wedding pictures are straight out of a Hollywood movie. I mean, its pretty crazy how attractive they were. No wonder Grandma can never understand my singleness. She never was! Right after they got married they became Christians. I'll bet theres a whole score of stories I've never heard about that courtship.

    Pretty soon after their marriage, they had my dad. Then my Uncle John. Then God called them to go be missionaries in Nigeria. So they went, and had my Aunt BethAnn there. My dad and Uncle John were sent to boarding school because that was the law then. It was hell. Very traumitizing experience. But thats a different story. They saw miraculous things in Nigeria. The Lord was truly working through them. When they returned to the states they had my Uncle Bill.

    Stay tuned for: Grandma's writing career

    Saturday, September 10, 2011

    Treated like a Lady

    Friday night I went downtown with some friends to dinner and dessert. I haven't been into the city all summer, so I was really looking forward to it. I got off work early and stopped in at Francescas and bought a whole new outfit for the evening. I hadn't treated myself to a dress of my own choosing in quite a while (no offense to all the bridesmaid dresses I wore this summer). I felt very nice.
    It was not a date, but one of my friends picked me up in his car and drove me to the city to meet our friends. I've never been picked up before. The simple act of picking me up, paying for the gas to get down there stuck in traffic for two hours, and paying for parking were such a gift to me. But the kindness of the evening didn't end there. My dinner ended up being paid for, as well as dessert at the Cheesecake Factory (my favorite!) by my friend's boyfriend. The tips were covered, and I never even paid a dime. I was not expecting to be treated to such generosity that night. And it overwhelmed me.
    I know I'm not the typical 22 year old when it comes to dates or other generally typical activities of people my age. But perhaps the fact that I am not at all accustomed to having guys/men treat me like a lady can be a blessing; it doesn't take much to floor me. To those guys, maybe it wasn't a big deal to pick me up, or pay for parking, or cover expenses for the evening. But then again, maybe it was.  And they still did it. Not because they felt obligated, or out of charity, but because they are good guys and they wanted to. I'm still overwhelmed at their simple acts that went so far for me.
    I've never been wined and dined. I've never had a guy pick me up for dinner at my door instead of meeting him somewhere. I've never had someone say "No no, I've got it." And to be given that when we were all just friends was truly a gift to me. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Just good people. And it was one of the most refreshing nights of my summer.

    So if there are any guys out there reading this: you have great power! If the majority of girls appreciate those little things one tenth as much as I appreciated last night, then please don't hesitate to treat them with the "old school" gestures. Those "traditional" acts bespeke gentility, not simply interest. Doing those things for a girl doesn't have to be because you like her. It can simply be because she's a lady. And maybe if we were treated like that more often we wouldn't have to teach ourselves how to be the unprecedented independant women we're told we have to be. I know I'd happily abandon some of my independance for that on a regular basis.

    And ladies: Be the kind of recipient to those acts that he would want to give them to.  I wasn't surprised by their generosity to me because I didn't think they were capable of it: no, I was surprised because I was unacustomed to having a guy treat me so well (not to mention at all). So I don't think its wrong to expect it of them in a way that says "I know you are a good man." But if and when you do find yourself on the honored and humble end of the giving, do not hide your gratitude. I think it is sad that these types of experiences are so hard to come by today, and we are thus deficient in our response. I knew that the evening would hold no romantic expectations, so we were free to be adults both in the giving and receiving. He gave, and I was profuse in my gratitude. Everyone felt appreciated and welcome.

    I could go on and on about what a great night it was. Now lest you think I wasn't treated well growing up by the men in my life, I was. But I'm simply not accustomed to guys doing nice things like picking you up and paying for your evening no matter who you are to them. But simply because its good, and they wanted to, and  because I'm a woman who appreciates it. And maybe...just maybe...because I'm a lady who deserves being treated like one? whew...now that's a  thought I've never entertained before now.

    Wednesday, August 24, 2011

    On the hunt

    Job searching is an interesting thing. You make your resume, and spend countless time perfecting the margins and the font size and the content. Every word has to be perfectly chosen and appropriate and placed within the perfect sentances, all in the attempt to make yourself look exactly like whatever type of person the employer is looking for. Its a very involved process. Then when you know you have highlighted every strength and tactfully concealed every weakness, the Career Services person marks it up with red ink like she was recreating the 4th of July fireworks show on paper. So you go back to your computer and try to eek out more, from both your resume and yourself.

    The whole time you have the questions running through your head: Do you want me?? Am I good enough? Will you have me?? Will you make it worth my time?

    Then you apply and wait for calls. They come, and you are respectful and curteous, kind and considerate with a little bit of humor and zest thrown in for flavoring...you want them to remember you, of course. You must be honest about things so they know you are a real person. They like your resume (YES!!...resounds your silent exultation). They seem to like you. All goes well.

    The salary topic comes up, as well as benefits. Oh so much delicacy is required here. Careful now, lest they think you are too assuming. But it is a quick conversation, generally. They either offer you what you want, so you are good to go. Or they don't, and you have the choice to politely debate, or turn it down. You can't budge in terms of your minimum unless they thrown in something nice, like extra time off or something. Gas is still expensive, no matter what you say.

    Then they say "Thank you for your time, you seem like a great candidate for this position. We will be calling you."

    And they do. And they offer you the job.

    But I didn't take it. They weren't going to pay me enough. Gas is, like I said, expensive. And they lived too far away.

    Thursday, August 18, 2011

    Good Better Best


    I think it is safe to say that we all learned from a very tender age that there was an hierarchy in the world. The pecking order was well established on means of health, wealth, beauty and success. As kids we learned that its better to be faster, smarter, prettier, funnier...no matter the skill, as long as it was better. Good was ok, but who wanted to settle for mediocrity? We were all trained to strive for better....for the best. I saw nothing wrong with that... until it definitely wasn't cool to be the tallest girl, or until all of a sudden school was more challenging than it was rewarding, or until suddenly the whole world seemed an endless parade of girls worthy of a magazine cover. Being the best was quickly subverted for simply working towards being better. And better-ness can be a precarious position for those who deem mere good-ness as unacceptable. Its a constant battle to “be enough”. I think we even go deeper and play the game with ourselves to the point that we condescend to be merely good at some things if it ensures us the better or best title in another. I suppose in that case its about priorities.



    But it all begs the question, by whose standard have we lived our lives? I learned that if I wanted to be a Sparky in Awana, I had to learn all my Bible verses to perfection...reference and all. If I wanted to be a starter on the basketball team, I had to do more than rely on my height and raw talent. If I wanted to be the lead in the musical I had to work hard and train. But then, how did I learn to want those things in the first place? I think basic human nature, as well as my personality, longs for recognition and worth. And again, I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting those things.



    I think, however, that the rub therein lies with the dissatisfaction of achieving the good or better when one was hoping for the best. Does the little boy who got runner up in the spelling bee not cry? Are there not tears for the second place team at the championship? Yes, of course there are. Hope deferred makes a heart sick. But what I'm driving at is our terms of success on a more basic level..



    The standard, at large, is dictated by our culture. We are taught that our worth lies in our “best” areas. But what if I don't have “best” areas, or no longer want to be defined by the ones I have? The man who only ever talks of his “glory days” of high school football, or the woman who relives her homecoming crowning daily; what sad, empty existences! I think the most interesting and life-giving people are the ones who live by their own standard of “best-ness”, or better yet (no pun intended), by God's.



    I don't have to be what you think I should be. I think being a PTA is just fine in comparison to being a PT. Actually, I think being a PTA is best for me, even though by the world's reconing being a PT is better. And no, I don't need to make 80k a year to be happy. 40K is just fine thank you...its better, in fact, lest I become too independent and forget to rely on my Provider. And come to think of it, my life will yet endure if I never have the money to afford a brand new car, or a lake house, or even a perfect complexion and body.



    So forgive me World, but I think I'm better off not trying to live up to your standards. Because in some areas, you just don't even hold a candle to me. And in others where you think I'm not your ideal, then that's fine with me. I'm a flawed creation moving towards true Perfection, and nothing you do will hinder me because HE is my standard.

    Wednesday, July 27, 2011

    Ruth

    The past couple weeks have been me in search of discipline. I have been trying to implement more discipline into the major areas of my life. Those areas include spiritual, physical and financial.

    Budgeting, exercise and diet, and the art of listening to God are things that have always consumed many of my thoughts, but have never been a success for me. The money always runs out too fast and too soon. The weight is gained back, the flab returns.  I seem "dry" spiritually, or God seems "distant". I've played the excuse card too often to not see that I'm the one responsible, and life is only going to get busier and more complicated anyway.

    I realized that I needed to get control of my habits completely during this current phase of my life. I no longer play sports, so for the first time in my life I'm not required to work out. I no longer attend school ( at present) so working a full time job and managing my money and paying bills is necessary. And most importantly, I'm not inundated by spiritual paraphernalia through my school anymore. I learned how to make my faith my own when I went to Poland and then to college. Now I have to learn how to make my faith REAL and LIVING in a world that thinks its a joke.

    A certain instance occured about 2 weeks ago where I found myself extremetly upset and angry and frustrated about something. I was ranting and raving when it hit me that I should "practice" listening to God and see what his thoughts were on the matter, fully expecting silence. So I asked God what he thought about it, and if he could give me soemthing to help me handle it? And immediately a name flashed into my head: Ruth. From the Bible. As in Naomi, Boaz, Ruth. I wasn't sure what it meant at first so I did some studying. Turns out I wasn't as familiar with the good ol' Ruth Bible story as I thought.  When I read it through my new "Wheaton College Alumna" glasses, I found some cool things that really were words from the Lord for me.

    The Book of Ruth is of course a story about Ruth, but she isn't really the "lead" character of the story in the sense of stage time or lines. Naomi and Boaz get most of the costume changes and spotlight.  The story begins with Naomi, and Ruth is the newly widowed childless girl who takes a leap of faith and follows Naomi back to Israel (they were in Moab). Then Naomi tells Ruth how to go about fixing their situation. Ruth obeys. Set change, costume change: Ruth takes another step out of the boat and  goes and puts herself completely at Boaz's disposal. Pretty brave and bold. Then Act II is all about Boaz going to great lengths to secure Ruth as his own so he can be her kinsman-redeemer. Thus the story ends as Ruth becoming the great-great-great grandmother to King David, and ultimately our Savior Jesus Christ.

    The part about Ruth not being the lead in the story definitely stuck out to me. But my handy dandy study Bible also pointed out her main qualities: She was loyal, obediant, and patient. Loyal to her new, if not strange, family. Obediant to Naomi, her motherinlaw and also to God. Patient in that although her entire existence rested on whether or not things fell into place with Boaz, she did not force anything or freak out (so far as I know).

    I really think God was trying to tell me to be like Ruth. I know that this may sound simple to you who may be reading about this "like duh". But really- I think Ruth has everything I don't. So since then, I've really been trying to practice the disciplines of patience, obediance and loyalty. I've felt so much peace!

    I've been reading and implementing Dave Ramsey's Financial Freedom book. I've been doing Tony Horton's P90X every day. I've been eating an all fruits, veggies, protien diet. And I've been resting in Jesus.
    Now lest you think life has become breezy, my finances are great, and I look svelt and gorgeous, no. If anything everything seems to have become harder or more discouraging. But Ruth's situation was more dire than mine. And I will not quit. Like I said, I've not had peace like this in a while. God provides.

    Saturday, July 9, 2011

    Story

    If you have ever read Donald Miller's book "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" you would have an idea of what "story" is. I recommend his book. Its very insightful and thought provoking.

    Here are a few excerpts from Chapter 25 of the book where Miller reflects on story while listening to a speaker at a conference on writing:

    "The first part of a story happens fast, and you think the thing is going to be over soon. But it isn’t going to be over soon. The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be, and the work is harder than you imagined. It’s as though the thing is teaching you the story is not about the ending but about the story itself, about your character getting molded in the hard work of the middle....I think this is when most people give up on their stories. They come out of college wanting to change the world, wanting to get married, wanting to have kids and change the way people buy office supplies. But they get into the middle and discover it was harder than they thought and they can’t see the distant shore anymore and they wonder if their paddling is moving them forward. None of the trees behind them are getting smaller and none of the trees ahead are getting bigger. They take it out on their wife, on their husband, they go looking for an easier story. Robert McKee [speaker at a conference] put his coffee cup down and leaned onto the podium. He put his hand on his forehead and wiped his grey hair back. He said you have to go there, you know. You have to take your character to the place where they just can’t take it anymore. He looked at us with a tenderness we hadn’t seen in him before. You’ve been there, haven’t you? You’ve been out on the ledge. The marriage is over now, the dream is over now, nothing good can come from this. He got louder. Writing a story isn’t about making your peaceful fantasies come true. The whole point of the story is the character arc. You didn’t think joy could change a person, did you? Joy is what you feel when the conflict is over. But it’s conflict that changes a person. He was shouting now. You put your characters through hell. You put them through hell. That’s the only way we change."

    I think this is the chapter that stuck with me the most. What story really is. I agree with Miller. The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be and harder than you imagined.

    I rediscovered this during my 3 day retreat this week into the world of Suzanne Collin's bestselling trilogy The Hunger Games. I began book 1 Monday afternoon and finished it that night. I began the second book Tuesday after work and finished it before work on Wednesday. I bought the 3rd book and finished it before work on Thursday. It contends for the best trilogy I've ever read. Francine River's Mark of the Lion trilogy and Tolkein's Lord of the Rings are different genres. (Harry Potter, Twilight and Chronicles of Narnia are not trilogies and therefore excluded).

    I was consumed with the story Collin's created. It incorporated every facet of story that my soul relishes. It had the adventure and action, the thought provoking issues, the flavor of romance and the twist of fantasy thrust into a riveting plot with incredible characters and depth. I was engulfed. However, as with all great stories that end, there is the cost. Characters die, or are irreversibly altered. The unthinkable happens, and devastation occurs. It is hard to read when I come to this part in a story. Part of me resists it with suffocating emotion, while the other part of me knows how crucial it is in making the story a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. Oh how I hate what occurs, but I accept it all the same because it is necessary, in a way, for the story to be fulfilled. It would have not held me spell bound until the last page and even after had it not occurred the way it did.

    And then I fall into the post-book depression in which I re-enter reality in a sort of dazed state as I try and process the end of one of the greatest stories I have ever read. It is always so difficult for me to exit one world and re-enter my own. Its like that for me in movies like Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, and most of all Avatar (in theaters only). Those epic stories that have every element...love and hate, fear and loss, justice and mercy, life and death, good and evil, redemption and destruction, resolution and conflict...they satisfy my soul in some way.

    I gave a speech at my high school graduation about how I wanted to live that kind of life- one fraught with the crucial elements of a great story, but that always ends with a happily ever after. As much as I love my happy endings though, its the stories that have the crooked but believable endings that I remember.

    The Hunger Games trilogy was not my typical happy ending. Not all the characters survived, and not all that was good was preserved. I was heartsick over this because above all I want the conclusion to stories to be satisfactory in every respect.

    But that is part of what made the story so great. It gave me Reality in Fantasy. I usually only go for truly Fantasy in Fantasy.

    And the way stories touch me always drive me back to my Lord. I thank him for imagination, and the way he created us so amazingly that we can create Story that touches our heartstrings so firmly. And then I have to remind myself that there is no greater story being told than the one that I've living in. Every other story ever written was in some way based off of it. Because you can't have Story without characters. And you can't have characters without change. And you can't have change without conflict. And conflict brings us back to the journey for our own happy endings...wholeness, love, peace, hope. This is the force that drives humanity. This is the force that drives story. And that is the story of Jesus Christ. And that, dear friends, is a resolution that truly satisfies my soul. Because that is our story, and it is epic.

    Wednesday, June 29, 2011

    More

    There are quite a few things I would love to have more of. Time, for one. Money, for another. We think life would be easier if only those two things increased for us. But we all know that's not true.

    I discovered something this week. I can honestly say that for the first time, I truly want more of GOD. I realized it when I realized that I don't know that I God loves me personally. Now of course I know in my head, but I feel that I lack the conviction in my heart that the one true God of the universe explicitly cherishes me. Besides the rote answers that every Christian can give on how they know God loves them, I couldn't think of a specific example.  This may sound very wrong to you. But try to think through a very subjective filter and you may be able to understand my processing.

    I've never doubted the existence of God. I can honestly say that I've never had a moment where I hated God. I've thrown every other emotion in his face, however, and I haven't been blasted to smitherines. I never hated God because I had a very healthy fear of the wrath of God. God was always real to me, perfectly real in fact. Therefore his wrath was real as well. I knew what he was capable of because of my understanding of the Old Testament. And for some reason, the negative is what my mind always takes away from those stories. I struggle with reconciling God's mercy with many of the stories in the OT.

    Thus I learned to view God that way in my life: I deserve his wrath and judgement, he doles it out, I have to suck it up and press on. I won't say whether this view was wrong or right, because for the majority of my life this is how I thought. God is just, therefore I respond humbly. And that is correct. But I always thought that there had to be more to it than that. All I've ever known is how to be dealt difficult things, only to view them as "growing" or "challenging" times that are meant to "refine" me.   My amazing roomate and dear friend Danielle would always talk about the Father's love and how he wants to give me good gifts. That always sounded foreign to me. I figured she must be talking about a part of God I never thought existed because I didn't know that part.

    I won't go into heavy detail on where I am coming from lest you consider me a mere deist. Suffice it to say I feel now that in my life I have put God in a box and then desperately sought to release him from it, only to discover now that he was never in my box nor was searching required.

    I cannot tell you that I feel I have "found" him necessarily. Those terms are arbitrary when you talk about God. I guess it makes the most sense to say that I've come to the conclusion that my conclusions about God are ridiculous to say the least. I don't have the faintest idea of who or what he is.

    But hear me when I say that I ache to know. I long to know. For the first time Psalms 42:1 makes sense to me. "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you O God." I can't explain it to you, but I cried when I realized that I didn't know God, but only a lot about him. My whole being is like an empty cup waiting for immersion in the liquid that gives it purpose. I want to be full. I want to experience what it is to be filled to overflowing!

    I want more of God. I want so so much more of God. I want to hear His voice- both coming from Him and coming from others. I want to discern the movements and work of His spirit. I want to speak in his language, in tongues. I want to dream Him dreams and see His visions. I want to encourage His people and see them experience Him they way I long to. They way I dream of experiencing him.

    Lamentations 3:24 ""I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will WAIT for him.”

    This is my mantra now. This is my prayer. Don't hold back Lord. Let loose. Set my spirit free!

    Saturday, June 4, 2011

    My little brother's wedding...and God's will

    The Bible says many things on God's will. It says his will for us is to be saved. It says his will is for us to be obediant. It says his will for us it to love others, and live a circumspect life. I googled "verses on God's will" and clicked on the first link. It was a good one. So is Google.

    God's will is one of the most widely conversed and yet disagreed upon topics in Christianity. It is what so many of us would give a leg to know, and what so many of us are also terrified of. Perhaps that last statement is an exaggeration....maybe I'm the only one scared of God's will? Yes I believe it is good and perfect and timely. But I've always struggled marrying God's will with promises like "Ask and it shall be given to you" and "the Lord will give you the desires of your heart." God's desire for me is to love him and love others. So if I somehow attain that, then I merit my desires, which means I get to know God and people, and then it becomes circular.
    I'm obviously rambling with my thoughts. You will see why God's will and plan for my/your life is a topic that has captured my thoughts of late.


    Last weekend God's will was manifested to my brother in the form of a stunning 19 year old south Florida bride.
    The weekend was full and exciting. Family and friends arrived and the rehearsal brought everyone together exchanging names. I found myself simple saying "I'm Kelly, the groom's sister." And I was proud of it. None of Brittany's family really knew Kyle but they could only sing his praises. I enjoyed getting to know them- this would be Kyle's family from now on too.
    After the dinner at Stoneridge Tavern, Kyle, his best man Josiah and our cousin Brendan escaped and went "in the woods" for a few hours before sleeping at Brendan's. I had all my awesome cousins at my house, so we had a blast hanging out and playing with my new baby Cora.
    Saturday dawned sunny and beautiful. May 28th. The day my brother becomes a man and takes a wife.
    I was hot mess most of the day, but especially nearing the ceremony time. I wasn't prepared to be so emotional. But who was I fooling? There was one other time when I became publicly emotoinal over Kyle. I was singing at my chruch, and it wasn't even a song for Kyle, but I mentioned that he was going off to college and how I was realizing how grown up he had become without my involvement (since I was in college far away). I started crying and couldn't even speak I was so overtaken with emotion. I barely made it through my song that day.
    I'm afraid May 28th, sunny and hot, would prove to be similar in my emotional stamina.
    I was the first bridesmaid down the aisle. I walked toward my brother in his tuxedo, the Blue Ridge mountains where we grew up at his back, with the sun well on its decent towards them. I looked at his face and saw the traces of the boy I had shared my life with. But as much as it was him, it also wasn't. I was walking towards a man, ready to become a husband. That eager anticipation of his bride was etched into his features. He was still Kyle, playmate and companion. But even if he ever had, he no longer belonged to me. He was passing into an adventure that I could not accompany him on. He was beginning his own family, and in that he was become more than brother, son and friend. He was becoming husband, the same name Christ gives himself in relation to us, his bride. And that was who I recognized in my brother's face as I walked down the aisle towards him. Despite my efforts to smile calmly and be relaxed before I had to sing, my face crumpled and my mascara ran. But Kyle wasn't looking at me anyway. He had eyes for one girl that day.
     She wore an equisite designer gown and long veil, and carried a bouquet of purple, orange, red, yellow and green flowers. She was escorted by her former marine father who wore black patent converse. Her hair was an elaborate up-do that finished off the feminine and and elegant ensemble. She walked in to the song "Kingdom of Love" from the movie "One Night with the King". Tears were streaming down her face as well. But I watched my little brother- on his face written all the emotion that poured out of his heart.
    The ceremony was beautiful. I made it through my song. After we exited, I found myself unable to stop crying for quite a few minutes. I don't know what hit me...I guess I never really prepared myself for the moment when my own sibling would "leave and cleave".
    But that moment had come and gone and I was still quite a mess.  I was quite sure I had regained control of my emotions until the mother-son dance occured. My dad came and stood by me with his arm wrapped around me. My mom looked young, vibrant, beautiful and healthy as she smiled. She was so relaxed, I'm still in disbelief. Kyle eased her around the floor to "Over the Rainbow" while I wept against my dad. Then Brittany danced with her father to "I Loved Her First." Talk about a tear jerker.
    But then the music started and the party turned up, finally. I could handle myself with the emotions. Dancing was just the cure I needed. Kyle being the first Brooks wedding, it was all the cousin's first chance to break it down together! We had a blast.
    At my favorite point of the night, Kyle sat his bride down in a chair in the center and had a baisen with water brought to her and set at her feet. He read the scripture where Jesus washed his disciples' feet, and then he washed hers.  So much symbolism at this wedding. Not good for the already raw emotions.
    They drove away to a fabulously decorated car and we drove home with lots of flowers and cake :)
    I drove home with my cousin Catherine, and it was one of my favorite times all weekend. We were able to talk about life, and the precariousness of it. She commented on the wedding in general and said that even though many of us had misgivings about Kyle and Brittany getting married so young, no one who was in attendance at that wedding would have denied that it was perfect in God's will and timing for them to be married May 28th, 2011. I thought that a very poingnant observation. She spoke truth.
    We talked of God and what it means to reconcile ourselves to His plan when we hate it with everything in us. Its easy to be in agreement with God's plan when its a wedding. Its another issue entirely when its a death of someone you love....a dear cousin, or a brother. A pain as dark as that does not recede even for the most joyous occasions. And so it was that Cath and I cried for the precious life we loss even as we wept for the bride that we gained.

    And so God's plan prevails, for better or for worse it would seem. Before you disregard me completely for my poor theology, allow me one more thought. Yes, in my life, it would seem that God's will prevails for better or for worse in my eyes. There is no for worse in the kingdom of God for those who believe. But there is a for richer or poorer,  and in sickness and in health. For as long as I shall live...which in my case, is eternity. Perhaps my theology is a bit screwed up as I seek to make sense of tragedy. But if I don't get it right now, I have all eternity to figure it out, because thats how much Grace I have been given.

    So in the continuing theme of weddings, we may not know God's will for our lives specifically. But maybe thats the point. A wife and a husband joined together have no guarantees besides difficulty and trial. So the Bride of Christ has no guarantee except for what scripture affords (which is extensive indeed, don't get me wrong). By guarantee, I mean guarantee of "good" or of "happiness". But they take those vows, and agree to endure in the face of either extreme posed.

    I guess Jesus already made his vows to me when he hung on the cross, and then sat enthroned in Heaven. When I accepted him I suppose I said "I do".  But like the many grooms and brides I've known, those words become real all too soon.

    I don't regret my similar words to Jesus when I offered him my life. But I never would have guessed that even in relationship with the Holy of Holies, I could still feel such turmoil and difficulty. I confess that sometimes my anger at "God's will" is so strong it threatens to overpower me. But every night, and every dark moment, and every dawn, its Him I run back to. There's no way out for me, thank God.  I'm a hopeless wreck without Him.

    I don't know what His will is.  But I know Him. And right now, thats enough.

    Wednesday, May 25, 2011

    Wheaton to Wisconsin to Wheaton to North Carolina

    Two weekends ago I went to Wisconsin for my roomate Allison Marshall's wedding. She is now Allison Miller :) She married Matt, a great guy who I loved getting to know this year.
    Allison was a gem of a roomate this year. She's such a cool person. When I think of a delimma, I always think "Allison would know what to do." Everything from who to call to where to go, she just knows. And when tragedy struck my family, she was in the room with one of my best friends Lissie when I got the call. I don't remember much beyond my own dark grief, but I know she handled much of the details of preparing me to fly home quickly. She's just amazing like that.
    Allison and Matt got married at Honeyrock, a camp in northern WI. It was freezing, but beautiful :) I felt so priviliged to be a part of it. Getting to know her family was a blessing as well. I enjoyed every minute I spent with them.
    I always get a bit despondent when I have a minute to steal away from the duties or activity of weddings. Its never because of the weddings themselves. I love weddings. I love everything about them from the gathering of close family, friends and loved ones to the celebratory nature and purity of purpose. Believe me, I'm a true fan of weddings. But lets just say that God has yet to make me content in my singleness. Don't get me wrong- I'm very content and blessed in my life right now. My gratitude is not lacking, even in my singleness. But this is my blog, so I get to say what I want. And weddings, thought beautiful and wonderful, always make me a bit sad that its not me, nor will be me anytime soon. So there. Don't pity me. I said it because I can.
    The Miller wedding was a wonderful transition from Graduation weekend into the summer. We ate great food at the reception, educated ourselves on what to order from an open bar :) and danced to good music and lit sparklers to light their way on into the blissful blue yonder known as their honeymoon. It was great.

    My first week in my new apartment with my awesome roomate and friend Danielle Klee felt like a vacation. We cooked good food, watched quality shows such as Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, processed our respectively difficult senior years, and started working and paying bills like adults. Then I loaded up my convertible and headed south for my brother's wedding. Crazy.

    I get so exhausted from road trips. Its ironic, I know. All I'm doing is sitting. But in my car, with no AC, and 11 hours of just me, my boring book on CD and the truckers, it can get a bit fatiguing.
    I made it nonetheless. I stopped for gas and water, deciding I wouldn't be using calories, so why eat? My first destination: Knoxville TN. I picked up my darling new little puppy, Cora Primrose of Kensington :) Yes, I know, its a long name, but she has to have such a name for AKC breeding purposes. She's a chocolate longhair dachshund, and I'm very happy with her. She is already on her way to being housetrained. However, sleeping arrangements are going to be more of a hassle I'm thinking. Last night she would only sleep if she was tucked under my chin or lying across my shoulders. This meant I did not sleep much.

    I am home right now- the real home- home in the mountains, in the country. The air smells life-giving. The breeze feels like water.  The warmth reaches out to my starving skin. Home- therapy.
    Papaw was waiting at the house when I got home. He always worries about me on the long drive when I do it alone. All his years of trucking and hauling apples/watermelons to the market keep him alert to my travel status. Its one of the ways he shows me love, and I like it.

    Sitting with my parents while they watched the finale of Dancing with the Stars, and playing with our four longhaired dachshunds was satisfying to my soul. I wanted to cry. This- being with family, home, for a celebratory weekend- this is good.

    Good is a word I've really struggled with this year. What is good? Why is it good? How if God good?
    I've fought against believing God is good this year. I was able to justify myself- there was only tragedy in our family this year. My grandparents both suffered extreme accidents and life-altering prognoses. My precious and beloved cousin who was my companion to Poland two years ago passing away of sudden illness. My own personal battles amidst and against life.

    I wish I could answer my own questions when they hang in the air half-heartedly expectant. But I do know this: life has become sweeter this year, in a humbling sort of way. This time last year I still would have relished in the beautiful weather I am experiencing. I would have enjoyed my family and loved my dogs. But not the same as I do now.

    No, now its as if I've had my mouth washed out with soap; but becaue of that all the sweet things taste sweeter. The flavors are alive and poignant. Aromas are potent, and sights are vivid. Emotions are tentative but sincere.
    I have been humbled and I have been exalted. But may I learn to live the same in the midst of both.
    One of my favorite professors from Wheaton said it should be our goal "to know yourself so completely that nothing shocks, disarms or embarrasses you." May this be tru in whatever road you are on today :)