"I yam what I yam."

Mr. M and I were watching a show about a Hollywood matchmaker. On the date, the guy asked the girl about her Christianity, and he asked her when she lets her hair down. PAUSE. Mr. M and I thought this was a very interesting question, and we agreed that we both would have said that our hair is always down. Like Popeye says, "I yam what I yam." I don't put on a Christian mask, not even at church. I don't (usually) sing and dance at church, but the people at church know that I sing and dance at home. For the Christian, I don't think life can be divided into sacred and secular. Doing a load of laundry can be a spiritual act of worship, as you are diligent to do it, and do it well, thanking God that you have clothes to wear. Rather than dividing life into sacred and secular, I would say the Christian life is divided only into sinful and sacred. Anything that is not sinful can be made sacred to the Lord. I consider my blogging a sacred act of worship, as I pray that God will use my words and thoughts to encourage others.

True Anecdote I Found Amusing

As you know, Mr. M. and I work with a Bible study for college kids. These kids are super-driven, both academically and spiritually. We recently went camping with the kids. We were on a hike with a small group, and one of the girls asked me what I was currently reading. I told her I was reading Carol Burnett's autobiography. She asked me if I had bought that at our church's bookstore. I laughingly replied simply, "You don't know who Carol Burnett is, do you?"

The Best Bad Day

It is a bad day. I woke shaking, and have remained in that condition all day. It is hard to type, but it would be even harder to write, so I am journaling on my blog. A good friend brought me a delicious lunch, and then we had a nice chat about church, and school, and future plans. Not long after that, another good friend brought me an iced mocha, and we sat outside talking about church and activities and home repair. My friends helped me feel normal on a day when I felt anything but normal. I cannot overstate my thankfulness for the people in my life who love me and spend time with me simply enjoying life together. Thank you all.

Hip-Hop at The Huntington

I told you my life, like the lives of so many, just naturally turns into a comedy sketch. I was outside reading about Carol Burnett and her hilarious escapades with friends, and I reflected on some of my funniest, laughing-so-hard-you-can't-stand-up moments.
The first impromptu sketch involves Miss M., while we were walking off a big dinner. We were on a dirt path in the middle of an open dirt field. We had no boundaries, nothing in sight. Suddenly, we looked ahead to see a 5 foot chain link gate across the path. No fence, just a gate. The mere sight of it was funny enough, but we had to capture the moment, so we got out a small video recorder, and I tried with all my might to stay still while Miss M. feigned worry and panic at this fence that was supposedly going to end our walk. It didn't work. I was laughing too hard and uncontrollably at the silly scenario and at Miss M's antics to control the camera.
I had my own chance to star in my own impromptu sketch when Miss M and I drove all through California. We stopped at the new glass bridge in Redmond. Steel cables held up the clear bridge. I was entertaining myself and Miss M by pretending to be gripped with fear on the bridge. As I held on to the cables with a white-knuckled grip, and inched my way forward, I looked up to find that I had an audience of 30 first-graders on a field trip.
One last sketch once again starred my hilarious friend, Miss M., who had now become Mrs. R. We had a group of 8 women, all gussied up for a fancy day at the fancy Huntington Gardens in Altadena. We were taking a break from the sun, sipping fancy iced teas at a fancy little resting spot near a koi pond. It looked like a scene from The Great Gatsby, all calm and relaxed. Then some teens brought out their boom box. All of a sudden, their super loud and annoyingly repetitive hip hop was ruining our calm and quiet. We were all annoyed, and we all looked at the kids in a subtle attempt to show them that their music was not appreciated. Not one for subtlety, Mrs. R stood in clear view of all, and began doing the running man. We were all doubled over and in tears. I think our laughter drown out the noise of the obnoxious beat, but I don't think any of us cared just then about the music.

Comedy and Life

Maybe you read my post on my reliance on professional comedians to teach me how to be funny and entertaining. I have read many, many autobiographies of comedians with the assumption that their funniness will somehow rub off on me. My latest addition to the comedy shelf on my bookshelf is an autobiography of one of my favorites, Carol Burnett. Her variety show was stellar. Funny as all get-out, clean (as far as memory serves), and one of the first hosted by a woman. The book has greatly increased my admiration for this woman, a model of humility and propriety. I don't aspire to have a televised variety show, but I do aspire to live my life as a variety show. No, I don't aspire that, it just happens. My friends are funny, my family is funny, and all our get togethers just naturally turn into a hilarious variety show.

Thanking God For the Blessing of Church Family

I went to my church yesterday to pick up my (amazingly and wonderfully) repaired Bible. While there, I saw many, many friends, some of whom I had not seen in years. It was a grand day of reunions. I also went to the house of a good friend from church who has an ailing husband, and there I saw more people from church, helping her with yard work, and supporting her. This is why I love church. Our individual commitments to God make us committed to each other, our spiritual brothers and sisters. I take great comfort in this, for I know God will take care of me in any circumstance through His people who care for me. Indeed, this has been demonstrated over and over in the past. God promises to "set the lonely in families", and to "multiply children for the barren woman and make her a happy mother." Mr.M and I often have the happy privilege of extending our family (even if it is just for one evening), by having friends over for dinner and a movie. I am made a happy mother by giving spiritual advice and counsel, and hugs and cups of coffee, to young people at our college Bible study. God has proven His goodness and faithfulness over and over, and I am so very privileged that He's chosen me for His own.

A "Run In", NOT literal

I had an odd little confrontation at the grocery store. I was speeding around with my cart, and I stopped just short of a big guy. He said, "Excuse me. An 'excuse me' would have been nice." I said I didn't hit him, nor did I have any intention of doing so. He said, "That's good." I don't see that I did anything wrong, so I don't know why he was offended. Sometimes, you just have to scratch your head and move on.

My grocery store trip was fun, as all are. I was speeding around as usual, ala Bruce Jenner with a shopping cart. I don't think I got the cart on two wheels rounding a corner today. Oh, if shopping cart racing were only a true sport! Having outgrown my rollerskates, shopping cart wheels racing around on the linoleum is the next best thing.

Sometimes, you just have to scratch your head and move on. (I thought that was a brilliant last line, summing up the 1st paragraph . . . but then I wanted to write the 2nd paragraph. I thought about making the 2nd paragraph the 1st, and the 1st, the 2nd. But that wouldn't make sense. I thought about copying the 1st paragraph so that it would be the 1st AND 3rd paragraphs, but that would just be redundant and make the post too long. I've been accused in high school of making EVERY sentence a great summary sentence, which obviously wouldn't work. Such is my lot in life.)

Sometimes, you just have to scratch your head and move on.

Happy Mothers' Day!

I can almost smell the burnt toast and undercooked bacon from here. Thousands of little kids trying to give their mothers breakfast in bed. At church this morning, I will be looking for women wearing corsages. I always gave my mom a corsage to wear to church. I don't know if any other people do that, or if that was just a tradition of mine, and I don't know where I got the idea.
My mom is in Heaven now, along with some other moms I know. I miss the opportunity to choose just the right card for my mom, and the chance to take her to breakfast. However, by the great kindness of God, I have many precious women who are mothers to me. I even sent a card to one. These spiritual mothers are marvelous gifts of God, trophies of His grace in my life. To each of them, I offer a continual thanks to God on all days, and a special joy on this day.

Family Pronounciation History, a Long Line of Mispronounciers

My dear friend Mrs. R. has always teased me for my non-traditional pronounciation of the word "pronounciation." However, it is in my genes, and cannot be helped. Today my dad came over and was telling me about some hot Thai soup he had. Tom yung guy (or some other young guy, I don't recall), and he was telling me how good the gallanto (emphasis on the AN)was-you know, the green herb that resembles parsley. You may know it as cilantro. My dad also was asking me about a fewton, a bed/couch convertible. Another similarity I noticed at lunch was my dad's propensity to throw unused water onto the ground. Mr. M teases me for doing that very thing. My dad's defense of his water-flinging was simply, "Don't worry; it's bigradable."

Handing in my Rock for Necessary Repairs

I've made the decision. I'm going to take the leap. I'm going to get my Bible professionally repaired. I anticipate many tears on my part as I hand my Precious into another's hands. I well up a little just at the thought. Matthew 7 tells us that the words of Jesus are a solid rock to build our lives on. Our lives will stand firm through even the fiercest of storms when we have the words of Jesus as our strong foundation. My life is securely built upon this rock, and I have weathered almost 20 years' worth of life's storms, and come out safely solely because I have the words of Jesus as my foundation. I will not repeat my testimony, the story of how God saved my soul, but I will say I had my Bible with me the whole time. I have used only one Bible for almost 20 years, so parting from it for even just a short amount of time will be painful. My Bible will be missed. In it, I have quotes from high school and college pastors, quotes from dear friends who taught me much, drawings, and a few stickers. And I have some photocopied hymns pasted in the front. I anticipate feeling like a worried mother who is having a very hard time having some adult time with her husband, but wanting to call home to check on the baby every 5 minutes. I anticipate having to physically restrain myself to keep my fingers from calling the Bible repair lady every day to see how the work is progressing.