Are You There God? It's Me, Dawn

I had small group last night. The typical itinerary is food & chatting, more chatting, Bible study, then a bit more chatting. I guess that's why I like it...we get to chat.

So I was sitting next to a girl and I watched as she lifted up her bare foot, pulled it close to her, and proceeded to pick out the goo underneath her toenail.

Umm, when did plucking away at your toes become appropriate behavior for polite company?

I would say she spent a solid ten seconds working on that big toe. Ick. She didn't stop there either...oh no! She would then look at her fingers to see what booty she derived from the great toenail search.

Pluck, pluck...look. Pluck, pluck...look. Nasty.

We're having a Christmas party in a couple of weeks. Maybe I'll buy her some socks.

So I asked my brother what I should get his kids for Christmas and he just put the kiddos on the phone so they could tell me themselves. 

I asked the little ones the same question and five minutes later, seemingly without taking a breath, they were still going down their list of wants.  I actually had to stop them before they were finished!

I struggle with what to get for these guys.  Our Christmas' have turned into adventures in excess as each grandparent tries to outdo the other and the rest of us try to find that perfect gift for them.

Do you remember the character Pigpen from Peanuts?  And how he used to leave a cloud of dust wherever he went?  That's what Christmas is like for us, except it's my neice and nephew plowing through gifts leaving a trail of discarded paper and bows in their wake. 

Sometimes they stop (momentarily) to admire a gift if it's electronic or a Playstation game.  But clothes, board games, and other non-flashy items are barely warranted a second glance.

I'm wondering about the ideas that we've (their adult family members) given them in regards to the holiday.  I wonder if they get that it's supposed to be about the miraculous and dangerous and sacrificial birth of Jesus.  Somehow, we've managed to make it about how large the mound of packages under the tree can possibly get.

I feel guilty because of my contribution to this, but I also am worried that this is a monster that feeds itself.  Everyone jokingly comments on the excess and how ridiculous it is...but then we do the same thing the next year. 

I've been thinking lately about asking my brother to have each family member commit to buying only two gifts for the kids and the adults can pick names out of a hat for each other.  He already thinks I'm weird, I'm worried this will only confirm his fears.

I hate this pressure I feel to perform...to find the gift that will actually initiate a reaction, that they will actually remember.  I usually am a Christmas person, I love the holiday.  But I'm not looking forward to it as much as I usually do, because it's gotten to be too much. 

So I sit here, with three weeks 'til the big day and no gifts.  And no real desire to go get gifts.  

*sigh*

I'm weary of adding to the excess, but I'll probably do it anyway. 

You are not the only one who feels like the only one.

One of my favorite lines of music out there right now.  This happens to be from the David Crowder Band.

It's so easy to feel like the world is against me, that no one understands what I'm going through.  This line continually reminds me that I'm not the only one feeling this way. 

I'm not the only one who feels lonely sometimes. 

I can't be the only one figuratively beating their chest asking, "when, God, when?"

Or, "why, God, why?" 

I can't be the only one looking at their lives thinking, "this isn't how I thought it would be." 

I can't be alone in looking in the mirror and being less than thrilled at the person looking back at me. 

I look at my glaringly naked left hand and wonder, "what the heck?!"...I can't be the only one.

I sometimes feel like no one understands...but then I remember that I'm not the only one feeling that way. 

It's at those times that I'm thankful (so thankful!) for friends that I can be real with...who I don't have to fake the funk with.  Friends who love me the same when I'm happy-go-lucky as when I'm crabby.  I used to have a line when I was a kid that alerted everyone that I needed some lovin':  *sad voice* nobody loves me, nobody cares...nobody gives me peaches and pears.  Funny huh?  Even then, I knew I needed community to help me out.

So I thank God for friends.  For people who love me.  For a family that doesn't necessarily understand me...but sure does love me a lot.

I thank God for reminding me that while I am very special, I'm not so special that no one else can understand what I'm going through...and help me get through it. 

Thank God I'm not the only one. 

So I've been wanting to post this quotation for a while, but I thought that it was kind of a cheap post. You know, I didn't really have to put any work or thought into it...just copy it down.

But then I thought about what a cool quotation it was and how it really stuck out to me. After all, I read it probably a week ago and I'm still thinking about it.

But gosh, I don't want you guys to think that I've gotten lazy and resorted to using other people's words rather than the brain cells to create my own.

It all boils down to the fact that I am cheap (I call it frugal) and I am lazy (it's Sunday...a day of rest!) and why should I spend the creative energy when someone else already has? I'm glad you agree!

So now I'm worried that I've built the quotation up too much. Like a big, blockbuster movie that everyone says is super good, so you make it your business to go see it and it's just...blah. Perhaps the movie would have been good, but was destined to be crushed under the weight of your expectations.

Is that what's gonna happen to my quotation? Okay...ignore everything I've written here. Make your mind a blank slate before you read it and we should be fine.

It's an mediocre quotation from a book that's just alright. I mean, read it if you want...don't read it. Whatever. It's not at all important. It's certainly not my favorite book that I've read in ages...not at all.

Is that better? Hmmm...now I wonder if I went too far the other direction. *sigh*

I should probably join Overthinkers Anonymous.

Okay I'm just gonna write it!

"I had a college professor who said, 'all around you, people will be tiptoeing through life, just to arrive at death safely. But dear children, do not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip, or dance, just don't tiptoe.' "--The Irresistible Revolution

I've decided that I'm going to frolic through life. Doesn't that sound fun? So much better than worrying my way through...or comfortable-ing my way through.

Maybe (hopefully!) in my frolicking, I'll be able to make an impact in this world of ours.

(Good quotation huh?) 

I don't like Notre Dame.  At all.

This puts me in the unfortunate position of cheering for a team whose quarterback is named Booty.

(Beavis:  huh, huh...she said booty.) 

I just finished a book that really challenged my faith and my way of "doing" Christianity.

It seems like the typical church focuses on the individual...getting them saved. And then getting them to stop doing the wrong thing. And then getting them to start volunteering at church in order to continue the cycle.

But this book emphasized that our Christianity has got to be about others. We get saved to help others. We stop doing the wrong thing for others. Our volunteering needn't only be for the church, but for (you guessed it) others.

Who are the others? Single moms that are stuggling, poor people, homeless folks. Also, girls in African countries who are being abused in many different ways, moms in Iraq whose kids have been killed...the list goes on.

My dad, who's not a Christian, said just yesterday, "if this is supposed to be such a Christian country, then why do we have so many homeless people? Why don't the people who've been blessed (heavy with sarcasm) give some of their money to poor folks?"

I had no answer.

He's right. It's hard to get people to come to the light if we Christians are only worried about enlarging our territory. It's got to be about others.

That sounds great, but I look at my life and am trying to figure out what I do for others. I want my life to say Christianity, not just my mouth.

It's too easy to ask, "why can't they help?". They with all of their money and connections and better jobs than me. But I think the better question is, "why can't I help?".

So I've got to figure out how to tangibly help. Not just give money and stay at a safe distance from the problem, but how can I help with resources and with love.

I can't continue to drive past my sisters on the street, sleeping on cardboard next to their shopping cart and do nothing. I'm sick of reading about little girls in other countries getting raped by grown men because of their virginity...and doing nothing.

Or how about the fact that America alone uses half of the world's resources...how can I help with that problem? Recycling's not hard...why don't more of us do it?

There's so much to do that it can feel overwhelming. But I believe that God tells us how we can help by putting specific issues heavily on our hearts.  Certain things speak to my heart...homelessness and ecology. Those are the things that I feel passionately about...how about you?  What are you passionate about?

So in this holiday season, I'm thinking about what I can give that goes beyond me and my little world and moves into helping others.

The title isn't the sound the turkey makes, but what I plan on doing today. 

Happy Thanksgiving! 

I'm in Michigan.

After a two and a half hour flight, I'm at my dad's house and getting ready to resemble an overstuffed pillow...I can't wait.

I really enjoy traveling, the whole process of it...especially the stuff that most people hate.  

I like getting to the airport early.  I like the thrill of trying to figure out which is faster:  curbside or counter check-in.  I don't even mind the security check and I was all proud of myself today when I had all of my toiletries in a ziploc bag before they told me. 

I didn't eat breakfast at home this morning because I was all fired up about eating at the airport, which turned out to be a bad move.  Starbucks was crazy backed up and all the other places were serving regular food.  So...I had Popeyes chicken for breakfast.

I think I like the airport because we have to get there so early now, that there's a large block of time where I'm left to myself.  I got to finish my book, people watch (which is so much fun!), and catch up on the news watching the airport CNN.  Fabulous!

I also like the I-just-won-the-lottery feeling I get when I finally see my luggage come around in baggage claim. 

The best though is watching families reunite, husbands smooching wives, dads hugging children...it's just awesome.

I love holiday traveling, because everyone's (well, mostly) in a good mood and we don't seem so different after all.  Families in Texas are just as happy to see their peeps as the folks in Michigan.  Black families are standing their looking dorky with their signs just like the Asian familes.

When we're all smushed together like that, I think we see that we have a lot in common...maybe more than the differences. 

I'm sure you all heard about Michael Richards' (Kramer from Seinfeld) racist explosion the other day.  And then his stumbling and painful to watch apology on David Letterman.

I wrote a while back about a single friend of mine who got pregnant.  I wrote about how easy it is to judge folks when they get busted. 

Richards got busted.  If life were fair, we'd all get busted.  Thank God He's not fair.

Clearly what he said was wrong.  I've said the wrong thing before...a whole bunch as a matter of fact.  Haven't you? 

I'm unacceptably inappropriate...I laugh at the wrong times, get mad and then have to apologize, say things I think are funny but no one else does...*sigh*

The very fact that we know that we've messed up and have been saved this Richards-type agony should be reason enough to thank God.  And reason enough that our forgiveness should flow like a river.  Because we understand.

Don't get me wrong, my feelings were hurt when I read (and even more so when I saw) his words.  I was offended and horribly disappointed.

But he just messed up.

And we all do. 

You didn't know I could do magic?

Well, watch this...I can make a grown man disappear with five simple words.

"Hi, my name is Dawn."

*poof! man disappears*

Thank you!  I'll be here all week...don't forget to tip your waitress.