One very vivid childhood memory of mine includes my mother and the movie E.T. I remember making fun of my mom for how she would ALWAYS cry every.single.time we watched our recorded-from-tv-VHS-tape (you know what I’m talking about!). The phrase “E.T. phone home” is evidently gut wrenching. I never understood it.
Not only did I not get it, but I certainly never did it. I just didn’t cry over movies. The occasional book, sure, but movies, no way.
Then I turned 25.
Last year I turned 25 and apparently discovered emotions. Or at least emotional reactions to cinema. Over the last year there has not been a movie that I’ve seen that has not involved tears. And sometimes a mutlple parts.
I’m not talking about just a little eye water. I’m talking throat tightening, drops rollin’ down the cheeks tears.
There is something about turning 25 that also means turning into your mother. Maybe that something is the realization that turning into your mom is not such a bad thing.
I recently read through some drafts I have saved on here. For some reason, I never published this. Re-reading it I am reminded about how easy it is to get intrenched in our own world and miss what’s going on around us. I pray that I may always be aware of the needs of my neighbor.
It is from May 5th, 2010, the weekend of the Major Nashville Flood. You can read about it at any of these links (and see the amazing photos).
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I have been alive long enough to know that there are some things in life that permanently shift your perspective. I’ve also experienced a few of those things. I’ve lost some people who I love dearly, I watched the towers fall on 9/11/2001, I remember Katrina. However, aside from the death of my brother, I think that this past weekend produced in me a shift that has not been matched by other events in my life.
I spent four years in the city of Nashville. I went to college at Belmont University. I loved Nashville before I moved there, but my experience and my life there was so rich, deep, and meaningful that I am still moved to tears every time I drive into town and see the skyline. Nashville is truly the town that my heart calls home. When I am there, regardless of what is going on around me, everything seems right.
This past weekend I watched stalked Facebook and Twitter for every new update from my friends in Nashville as they were hammered by one of the worst rain storms to hit the city in recorded history. Three tornado warnings in 24 hours and 13+ inches of rain. All of these rain drops turned streams and creeks into rivers and the rivers into oceans. Soon I saw pictures of my beloved city underwater. With many pictures and memories of my life in Nashville. Watching as the river running through downtown flooded the streets my friends and I walked when we would go dancing on the weekends. Saw pictures of some of the city’s most notable landmarks like the Grand Ole Opry filled with swamp-like water. Not only were buildings and establishments harmed, but people lost their lives. People died stranded on the interstate when creeks turned them into raging rapids, and in their homes when they were trapped by rising water.
Sunday, while much of the worst flooding unfolded, I stood outside in my yard playing catch with my dog. It was sunny and 70-80 degrees here. Those around me had no clue what was going on in a city that is close enough to be in our same time zone. People went on about their business as if all was right in the world.
I was like them just days before, but now I couldn’t shake this feeling of imbalance and sadness. Didn’t they know that the place my heart called home was washing down river? Didn’t they know about the flood that has been described as the worst non-hurricane flood in the country? The flooding was barely mentioned on the news here or nationally.
I remember in 2005 falling asleep in my on campus apartment the night before the tropical storm Katrina hit TN. It already caused a lot of damage in New Orleans (the flood hadn’t happend quite yet), but was going to hit the Nashville area still at tropical storm strength. Lots of schools closed due to the anticipated rain fall. I prayed that night that God would let it rain enough for me to get out of class the next day. Instead, I woke up to a miserably wet day in Nashville (the kind where dry hair is the only evidence that you carried an umbrella) and horror unfolding in New Orleans.
I feel great remorse that I have failed to pay full attention catastrophes in the world. To not allowing the sadness and heart break of the world impact my life. I have heard people say that you can’t take it all in or you’ll break. But, what is wrong with breaking? Maybe if we allow God to break our hearts for the things that break His, this world would be a bit less broken on the whole.
I know that I’m an adult. I know I have a real job, insurance, bills. I know I make my own decisions about where I go on vacation, and what I do with my time.
But most days, I don’t feel like an adult. This is strange though, because I don’t feel like a kid, but I sure don’t feel like a grown-up.
However, every now and then something happens where I feel like the age I know that I am. Recently, I had one of those days.
My sweet Rav has needed new tires for a while. I, being cheep, have been hesitant to buy any because they are so dang expensive. And, because I have NO idea how to buy tires. In June I drove up to Fort Worth for a conference. While driving, I realized it was time to bite the bullet. My car was getting loud to drive from road noise, and the tires seemed to be slipping a bit. I thought since I would be driving to visit my parents in a couple of weeks, I need to get new tires.
So, I decided to plow forward with new tires. I did some research online to discover what tires are recommended for my car. After reading some reviews I decided on a specific make and model of tire. I found a website that sold them for $93 a tire, PLUS a rebate if you bought a set of four– score!
The downside of this was that they were then going to ship the tires to me? Lame.
Then I would have to find a place to put them on (or do it myself?). Double lame.
I decided to shop local places and price compare.
I found the same brand listed with a rebate on Discount Tire’s website, but they were $126 a tire. However, Discount Tire claims to match competitor prices, so I gave that a shot. I sent them an email and the next morning got a call from the local store saying they would be glad to match the price to “earn my business”. Thursday afternoon I took my Rav in and in less than 40 minutes had four new tires on my car.
Now, let me tell you that I have had the same tires on my car since we bought it in 2005. The person who owned it before bought the tires, sometime before I bought it. I’ve added at least 70,000 miles to them. When I drove out of the parking lot from the tire store, it was like a brand new car. It felt so smooth and quiet.
I should have bought tires a long time ago!
When I started at Baylor in 2008, the book that all entering freshman were required to read was Same Kind of Different As Me. This book chronicled the unlikely, but real life, friendship of Ron Hall and Denver Moore. Ron is a wealthy man from Ft. Worth Texas who, after being pushed by his wife, begins to volunteer at a homeless shelter in Ft. Worth. While there, be beings a friendship with Denver. Denver, is a homeless man, who grew up sharecropping and has an incredible perspective on life and friendships. The story of Ron and Denver changed the way that many people approached friendship and understood the issue of homelessness. This story is one that continues to impact the lives of people around the country– both wealthy and homeless.
InWhat Difference Do It Make? Ron and Denver share more of their story and life after Ron’s wife passed away from cancer. While those portions of the book will tug at your heart strings, the stories of how their previous book inspired people to make a difference in their communities quickly became my favorite part.
Interwoven throughout the details of Ron and Denver’s friendship are stories about how their lives impacted others in the world. These stories took all forms. One family began adopting children from Africa, a high school art teacher helped homeless men work through their hurts through art, and a little girl learns to serve the homeless and raises money in her neighborhood to help the local shelter. My favorite though is a chain reaction story that impacted multiple people across the country. You’ll have to read the book to learn about that one.
Reading What Difference Do It Make? not only warmed my heart with stories of lives changed, but challenged me to change the way I view the role of the church in homelessness and poverty. While I’ve never been one to think the governments should solve our problems, it becomes easy to lean on the government to ‘fix’ problems like this. Hall reminds readers that the issues of homeless run much deeper than just having a roof over your head. He also raises an interesting challenge. In most cities Hall and Moore visit, there are fewer homeless individuals than churches.
Hall proposes that if each church took responsibility for loving one homeless person back into society and ultimately caring for themselves there would no longer be homelessness. The problem is so few believers are willing to put their money, life, and comfort where they say their faith is. What a difference Christians could make in our world if we believed our faith in action.
I would strongly recommend that you read both books by Hall and Moore. You can purchase them here.
Full Disclosure– Thomas Nelson, the publisher of these books, provided me with a free copy of What difference do it make? in exchange for writing an honest review. I’m not required to write a nice review. I just really like the books.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve got some big ideas about where this blog might go in the future, so stay posted. In the mean time, here are a few random things I’ve learned recently.
1. Before leaving for any vacation it is always worth it to clean out the fridge. Even if it means staying up until 5 a.m. for a 7:30 a.m. departure to a foreign country. (Although, I’m not sure dumping that pasta a week early would have made too much of a difference. Gross.)
2. Real vacations are a must. It’s nice to visit family, but sitting on a balcony overlooking a rustic beach with a good book and a cup of coffee cannot be beat. (Except maybe by the porch of a mountain cabin.)
3. My skin is in fact able to get tan. Took me 26 years to figure that one out.
4. I really, really, really love my dog. And, I think he feels the same way about me. (Seriously, when I typed that, he jumped in my lap and started licking my face as if on cue. No, I didn’t call him over!)
5. I am not a very good sales person, thus my second attempt at Avon is going about as well as the first. Badly. Unless you count my expanded makeup supply as a success. This may be one way that I am very much like my dad.
6. When I make baked ziti I use ENTIRELY too much cheese. It may taste good, but is really gross when you have to clean the bowl a month (or more, I really don’t remember) later. (see #1)
7. I get entirely too attached to tv show characters. Two of my favorite shows, Private Practice and Grey’s Anatomy, have been killing me a bit recently. But, I keep watching because I love the characters. It’s a sad, abusive, cycle.
8. I do not think I can ever go back to life without a DVR. Commercials are way to annoying.
9. I much prefer to read a book than watch it on video.
10. I think I’m going to watch LOST this summer. The entire thing.
11. My dog is a tennis ball magnet. It is growing increasingly common for campus golfers to lose tennis balls in the bushes by my apartment. It is also increasingly common for Tuck to disappear into a bush and come out with a ball in his mouth.
12. I had the BEST staff this year. I was so incredibly sad when they all left. It was a good year.
13. I really want to learn to speak Spanish. I just don’t think my brain works that way.
14. I just re-read this before hitting ”post” and realize that I am getting old. I was surprised by how old 26 sounds. At least I have a couple of more days before 26 becomes official.
With that, it’s off to bed. Another day of productive work tomorrow I hope!
I have always loved Easter. It is a reminder of life. Growing up in Kentucky, the winter months (late October to April it seems) were grey, drab, and full of death. Flowers withered. The sun faded from obvious view. The once vibrant green leaves turned shades of red and orange before falling to the ground. Here they became mounds of sloshy, slippery, disdained, brown mess.
Spring beckoned the seemingly dead things back to life. The sun tickled the leaves and flowers of out hiding. It has always been this season that set the following hymn chorus (based on Psalm 19) on repeat in my mind:
The heavens are telling the Glory of God.
And all Creation is showing for joy!
Come, dance in the forest,
Come, play in the field.
And sing, sing to the glory of the Lord!
In my mind and heart the parallel of spring and Easter made complete and utter sense. I remember always being moved by the knowledge that Easter was the celebration of spiritual seasons. Christ, My Savior, suffered and died. He experienced the ugliness of winter in the flesh and soul. He embodied and personified that season. He felt every small death of sin as much as the weight of every large one.
But three days later, My Savior, He Rose! He burst forth form the tomb, conquering death and sin once and for all.
On Good Friday we remember the death. I have always imagined His body like a discarded autumn leaf. Something that was once so marvelous- broken, discarded, trampled, and forgotten.
But then, on Easter morn, that leaf of a broken body returned. Bursting forth in the glory of new, restored life, and even greater glory.
While Easter has always been meaningful to me, this year, it means so much more.
Almost a year ago, my dear brother died. He died unexpectedly. He died alone. He died painfully. These things have haunted me since May. Especially the alone and painfully parts.
I have trusted God’s hand and leading throughout much of my life. While I am certainly not perfect in this or any area, I am thankful that He created me with the gifts of discernment and intuition. But, for once, I have felt truly lost. This was out of left field.
One of unbelievers’ greatest hang-ups with Christianity is the concept of suffering. Why would a good and loving God allow my brother, (who loved Him), to die alone and painfully? I can understand that argument a little more clearly after May. Through a book that we are reading in my connection group (The Reason for God by Tim Keller), God showed me that He understands it too.
You see on Good Friday God experienced first hand the pain of human death. No only did He die physically, but Keller points out:
The physical pain was nothing compared to the spiritual experience of cosmic abandonment… therefore {He} knows firsthand despair, rejection, loneliness, poverty, bereavement, torture, and imprisonment. On the cross he went beyond even the worst human suffering and experienced cosmic rejection and pain that exceeds ours as infinitely as his knowledge and power exceeds ours… So, if we embrace the Christian teaching that Jesus is God and that he went to the cross, then we have deep consolation and strength to face the brutal realties of life on earth. We can know that God is truly Immanuel– God with us– even in our worst sufferings.
God is truly Immanuel in every pain. He. Is. WITH. Us.
That Sunday at church this fresh approach to Immanuel (a word we often reserve for Christmas) was running through my mind. We were singing some unrelated song, when out of the blue I saw my brother having a seizure in his apartment. I could feel the terror his mind must have felt. But then, I saw that he was not alone. I saw my Savior, holding my withering brother. I saw Jesus holding his head, rubbing his hair, and crying over Richard’s pain. In that moment I realized that Jesus is not only Immanuel for me and my parents in our grief, but that He was Immanuel to Richard in his death. Richard was not alone; God felt that pain too. But God FELT that pain because of the death of Christ.
Because of Easter God is Immanuel in grief and in death.
Because of Easter I know that there is Joy.
Because of Easter (and Christmas, but that’s another blog post) Christ is Lord of Life- both physical and spiritual.
Because of Easter I know when I go to church tomorrow to corporately worship God’s Risen Son, I am joining my brother.
Because of Easter, Richard left his apartment WITH our Savior.
Because of Easter, Richard is rejoicing in Christ’s victory over death with an entire host of angels.
While I wish I could still have my brother with me, I know that Richard is experiencing Easter in the true fullness of new life. And I am experiencing Easter with a much deeper meaning and a more thankful heart.
I just saw a link to a giveaway of an awesome kelly moore camera bag. Go here:
http://mckgiveaways.blogspot.com/2010/02/kelly-moore-camera-bag-giveaway.html
To enter!
As a part of my efforts to live less expensively I am determined to eat healthfully for less. Part of this has equated to using more of my provided meal plan. Another part of it is a larger life lesson- making food that can be remade into something different.
Case in point- Fajita Soup
Here’s the background. One of my local grocery stores has a weekly meal deal. They pick an item, that when you purchase a full price, you get a TON of other things to make a full meal for free. A couple of weeks ago the meal deal was fajitas. I purchased pre-seasoned fajita meat for about eleven dollars and got the following for free: sour cream, cheese, tortillas, salsa, a tortilla warmer (bet people outside of Texas don’t know about those). I could have also received some soda, but I don’t particularly like what was free so I passed on the offer.
Now, this meal deal is enough to feed an army, but I was strategic. I froze the cheese and tortillas. Have used the salsa and sour cream for other meals (including snacks for the Bible Study I lead) and separated the pounds of meat into one-two person sized baggies. They were then consequently frozen. Enter, a stocked freezer with enough supplies to make at least 7 one person fajita meals.
So, one day last week I made my first bag. Turns out, I stink at cooking the meat and I wasn’t terribly impressed. But, I was DETERMINED to make full use of my left overs. So, when I came home for dinner I used the left overs and a bunch of other things I had on hand to make soup. And, I must say, for an accidental-on-purpose-leftover meal, it turned out well!
Here’s the accidental recipe. Feel free to alter and or add to as you see fit with things you have on hand.
Ingredients:
All my left over fajita meat (don’t ask me how much, it was the left overs of 1/7 a pre-seasoned package.)
One can of chicken broth
One can’s worth of water
1 to 1/5 tsp of chicken bullion
1 can of corn
1 can of black beans
1 can of pinto beans
1 can of mushrooms
1 can of diced tomatoes
1 can of diced tomatoes with chili’s
Some brown rice
1 package of Fajita seasoning
Extra frozen, precooked chicken strips
I literally threw all of this in a pot, brought it to a boil and then simmered it until the rice looked cooked. I thought that the extra fajita seasoning would make it too spicy, but I almost think it needs a bit more flavor. I measured absolutely nothing for this soup, and it was liberating.
I made some cornbread to eat with it, but it would also be good with tortilla chips. And in my humble opinion, Coke Zero is a must.
I have a TON of soup left over, so I think I’m going to freeze some of it to save for a day when soup sounds good and I’m too lazy to make it. Not that this required much work. I actually managed to finish a last minute project for work while the stove did all the cooking.
I just never cease to be amazed at how one small item, like chicken fajita mix, can multiply into sooooo much more! If you live in Waco– come over and have some soup. It is like an accidental loaves and fishes scenario.
Tags: food, rice and beans living
I just changed the template on my blog to a new one, however, I’m not totally pleased. So, my techno-savvey Dad is going to build me one (technically, he’s the one who changed the template). So, keep checking back- one day you might be totally surprised!
I’ve recently begun reading How to Be A Hepburn in a Hilton World by Jordan Christy (I used to be her RA at Belmont! Small world). I am currently about half-way through and think Jordan has done a great job. I wanted to share with you one of my favorite excepts about friendship:
Anyone can speak, but it takes intelligence, self-control, and maturity to set our own interestes aside and focus our attention on the needs and concerns of someone else for a change. Not only is it hard to feel validated in a relationship where you can’t get a word in edgewise, it’s just not a lot of fun. A good friendship is built on the mutual sharing of ideas, dreams, concerns and fears. If we find ourselves on the short end of the sharing stick, it might be difficult to keep the friendship going. And one way we can learn to identify a good listener is by being a great one ourselves.
We can start by asking about our friend’s day and then shutting up. We can inquire about our coworker’s weekend and then just let them talk about it. Or we can simply stop fiddling with our phones and BlackBerrys long enough to make eye contact and let them know we’re genuinely interested in hearing what they have to say. In our drive-up, fly-by, fast-talking society, listening is a lost art. But I’m convinced that we classy ladies can be the ones to bring it back.
Oh, may she be right.
This passage has encouraged me to think about how I approach friendships, my time with students and colleagues. Not only that, but it helped me really think about the friends I have who are great listeners, and how grateful I am for them!
Are you a good listener? Or is this an area where you, like me, need to be a little more Hepburn and a little less Hilton?
Check out Jordan’s book here: