Resigned

I'm resigning myself to the fact:

...that sleeping is going to be merely a nice concept for the next year.

...that no matter how hard I try, I will not be able to resist breads and ice cream during this pregnancy.

...that some people just aren't going to keep in touch, and "busyness" is just an excuse for their lack of interest. However, rekindling old friendships is amazingly easy, and incredibly rewarding, thanks to technology.

...that sleeping in one's contacts is probably not the best idea.

...that someday I will want to write again. Also, I will have time.

...that I really should be playing my cello, and I must get off my duff and practice.

...that both candidates for president have wives that scare the living daylights out of me.

...that, no matter what, I will always crave the wrong things.

...that, in church work, there will always be some who will make it very hard for me to "be Jesus" to them. However, I must constantly remind myself that the three or four who make me cynical do not represent the body of Christ as a whole, and that most people are lovely, beautiful, and caring.

An Open Letter To Aslan

Found this on McSweeney's... thanks, Ed, for the heads-up. Hilarious for those of us Narnia geeks.

A LETTER
TO HIS IMPERIAL
MAJESTY, ASLAN.
BY MARI NESS

- - - -

To His Imperial Majesty, Aslan, the Great Lion, he who rises from uncomfortable and broken stone tables, son of the Emperor-Over-Sea, with extreme respect:

In the course of talking-animal events, it may become necessary for one animal—or human—or divine being—to come and rescue Narnia from its deepest, darkest hours. We're cool with that. We're just saying ...

Why does it have to be kids?

No offense to your wisdom and such, but, frankly, things don't go so well when they show up. Consider the results so far:

Visit 1

1. The illegal immigration of a dangerous terrorist responsible for annihilating the entire population of her previous world, thanks to the direct assistance of these kids.

2. Criminal disruption of a process critical to national security—namely, you, quietly and then gloriously, singing our magical world into existence, and us, quietly and a lot less gloriously, rising up from the mud, which we consider kind of important, if leading to very puzzling questions about our later biology and ecology.

3. And—oh, yeah—the first entrance of evil into Narnia, which transformed it from a place filled with merry singing to a sometimes dark and scary place filled with kidnappings, sacrifice, and war. (However, some of the signers of this letter wish to note that with evil often comes excellent beer, and they like the beer part, so: not entirely a bad thing.)

Visit 2

1. The sudden and terrible arrests of multiple Narnia residents, stemming entirely from the unauthorized visits of a small child to the forest area.

2. The sudden release of multiple dangerous creatures, who, until then, had been safely imprisoned as stone animals.

3. Your own bloody and demoralizing assassination.

4. The destruction of a valuable ancient stone table.

5. A major battle resulting in the injury and death of several Narnian citizens.

6. Restoration of a nonparticipatory monarchy, headed up by four children with limited education and absolutely no civil governing experience.

Visit 3

1. Eruption of war within days.

2. Major destruction of infrastructure, including a valuable bridge.

3. Multiple incidents of public drunkenness.

Visit 4

1. One kid turned into a dragon. Enough said.

Visit 5

1. Complete destruction of a vast and valuable underground city and mining complex.

Seeing the pattern here?

Frankly, we'd be less concerned were it not for our understanding that your true intentions are less to help us and more to help these children understand their own religion, which, we admit, sounds pretty confusing. End result: the kids get a deeply transforming religious experience, and we get left with shit. Excuse our language, but we're basically animals here.

(As a side note, did your foresight ever suggest recording that creation song? Because, from what we've heard from these kids, you could have made enough money from that recording to completely compensate us for the damages, at least financially. We're just saying.)

So, anyway, here's what we're getting at: Send us a hero. Send us a grownup. Send us someone capable of understanding the complex economic structure underlying Narnia, of understanding why destroying our mines is not exactly a major plus. Just stop sending us kids. And consider this message urgent. We understand that something called a last battle might be coming up soon, and we're a bit afraid that if you send us any more helpful kids they'll end up destroying our entire world. Sure, we could end up in some perfect magical mirror of it, but what are the chances of that?

- -

Wha? oh... hello... where was I?

So... hi!

I fell off the writing/blogging wagon. It's been crazy-busy around my house(es) and I just haven't had the time to sit down and be a good little writer. We've had several major life events in the past few months, and my computer just hasn't been a priority lately.

To catch up those who are interested:

We're expecting a baby in October. Weird, huh? It's strange being pregnant again after eleven years, and it's even stranger trying to wrap my brain around us having "kids" instead of "a kid." It sounds so... like my parents: "Honey, let's get the kids to bed..." wow. It's been so long with just David, little Dave, and me, just the three of us, that it's hard to fathom having another person joining our household. Little Dave is going to be a great big brother, but I've had so many panic attacks already ("They're going to be 12 years apart! They'll never really know each other!!" and "Omigosh... when little Dave starts driving, the baby will just be entering Kindergarten!" which leads me to, "Holy schneikes, when the baby turns 15, I'll be FIFTY!!!!!").... but it's going to be amazing to start over and have the opportunity to do all of those "firsts" again -- first steps, first words, etc.

So I'm four months into my pregnancy, just starting to feel those little kicks, starting to feel fat, and thoroughly savoring pregnancy this time around. We find out on the 27th of this month (hopefully) if it's a boy or a girl.

Next unexpected life event: we've moved from Boerne to Kerrville, which is something we really were never interested in doing. Funny how God changes things, eh? We just happened upon a great house, and once we did the math and realized how much stinking money we were spending on gas driving 60 miles a day to and from work, it just really made sense. We are five minutes from the church, and, once school ends for little Dave, we'll be saving a LOT of money. Plus, the house is perfect for us, and we needed something a little bigger in light of our growing family. However, for the past month, my life has consisted of packing, boxes, tape, cleaning, and sheer exhaustion as we have moved piece by piece

Finally, at the church, my job has expanded once again to include yet *another* hat to wear: I've taken on the position of interim worship leader. I think that makes the total number of jobs I do come to exactly 9645. But who's counting?

This has been a strange year for me in that regard. Vocationally, I've always been a singer and a musician first, but for the past year, I really hadn't sung a note. I got hired to do technical work, and my job has become the catch-all, "anything-technical-that-no one-else-wants-to-do" job...web design, podcast production, video editing and production, graphics design, book editor, sound operator, mediashout expert, computer network overseer, and "Sarah! Come fix my computer!!!"... all stuff that I was never trained to do, but that I just know how to do because I was a stay-at-home mom with lots of time on my hands and just enough left-brained curiosity that I learned. And that's all cool... I love what I do, and I can't believe they actually pay me to play with tech toys all the time... but it's not what I was CALLED to do.

I was called to be a singer and a writer, and, if I'm really honest, worship leading is specifically the form of singing and writing that God called me to years ago.

It's been YEARS since I led worship, partly because I ran from it for awhile, and partly because I wasn't given the opportunity. God kept me out of it for a long time, made me die to my desire to do it for me (worship leading cannot be an outlet to fulfill your own selfish creative whims and need for recognition, or it is done in the flesh, which is not glorifying to God), and I was dormant in that area and wondering why.

A few months ago, our music minister left, and I was asked to take on the role of leading the contemporary service at church on Sundays. It's been nice, and it feels right, like putting on old shoes...there is something very peaceful about finally being able to walk in the area of my primary gift.

I'm not sure how long this responsibility will last... they are actively seeking another music minister... but I'm honored to have the opportunity as long as it's entrusted to me, and I will learn and grow in this area for however long this season lasts.

Anyway, that's life for now. Hopefully, now that we are a little better settled, I can get back into the writing routine again.

For now, I'm off to put together some furniture we purchased last night from the wonderland that is Ikea. Man I love that place.

Live Blogging American Idol

So I just found this awesome new widget, and instead of going to the gym, which I am supposed to be doing, I am sitting on my couch being a loser and playing with my new gadget.

I could be liveblogging something meaningful, like the primaries, but I am choosing to be mindless. Call it Guilty Pleasure Night.

Things

I'm...so... out of shape.

Referring back to a previous post regarding my desire to write, run, and pray more consistently, I am painfully aware of my failure. I'm a slug.

I haven't worked out since October. The miscarriage sent me into a physical slump of laziness. I just didn't have it in me to work out. Then the holidays happened, and chips and queso took over. Ugh.

I haven't written since November. Again, the holidays. But it's almost March. I need to declare an end to my own personal writer's strike now, please. Thank you.

I have been a prayer slug, too... although certain life circumstances of late have caused me to look up a little more often. I am having to walk by faith and not by sight these days, and that is good. Fear creeps in through the tiny cracks of my thinly-paned heart, and I have to constantly bring it back to God. "Do I trust You?....yes. I will trust You."

Changes are afoot. I have to come to hate where I am before I can move forward.

This afternoon, as I was sitting in my room on my laptop, I heard a loud crash in our walk-in closet. I ignored it, too lazy to get up at the time. An hour or so later, I went into the closet to find that the entire shelving unit had come loose from the wall and fell to the floor, dumping our entire wardrobe and rendering the shelf no longer useable. It's going to be an annoyingly large task to fix the mess, and it's going to require new shelves (actually, a total closet makeover, most likely).

The upside of it is that our closet has been disorganized for a long time. This closet disaster is really just what I needed to get off my duff and make a change.

I guess getting fat, forgetting how to write, and getting depressed for lack of prayer are the agents of change I needed as well.

Wish me luck.

Back to Work

I hate that I am so quick to turn off my creative self. I have been creatively "AWOL" since early November, when the rush of the holidays took me hostage for awhile. Like a miniature tornado, the Christmas season whooshed in and swept me up and away from my novel -- which was coming along splendidly, by the way, thank you very much -- and sucked me in to a swirling blur of play practice, family, youth retreats, wrapping paper, and dishes. And then, just as suddenly as they began, the holidays abruptly fizzled and dissipated, and on January 2, I was left standing in my living room looking around at the mess and wondering where to start trying to get back to doing whatever I was doing. What was that? I forgot.

And then I entered the January vacuum. The "shoulds" attacked: "You really should start thinking about getting back to the gym, fatty." "You should mail those packages." "You should start paying attention to the presidential election and be informed." "You really should be more organized." "You should work out a new budget." "You should be investing in your retirement or you will die poor and angry." All of the "shoulds" hung around my head like shiny trinkets, their sparkle and glitter distracting me, calling to me, teasing me with their pleading little voices. They all demanded my immediate attention. I became restless, wanting change but not knowing where to start.

I finally settled on the organization thing, because, well, that is what one does in January after taking down the Christmas tree, right? It's pretty easy... unlike solving the 2008 housing crisis and figuring out my retirement. The next several weeks involved much sorting, cleaning, dumping, donating, and exploring boxes I forgot existed. I got lost in my garage one day, my closet the next, and I found myself obsessing about shelving and space bags and wanting to spend all my Christmas money at the Container Store.

I wish that Writer Me was as loud and obnoxious as Manic Me. Writer Me is entirely too passive. Writer Me just shrugs, sighs, and retreats when Manic Me starts crazymaking. Every now and then, Writer Me will try to get a word in -- it happened when I was madly cleaning out the garage, going through boxes, and happened upon a large box. I opened it to see if it was a "keep" or a "donate" box, and found that it contained all of my best books. Writer Me came out of hiding briefly, just to give a look of tacit disapproval, and I felt a twinge of combined guilt and epiphany wash over me. It was a reminder. Oh, yes, that's what I'm supposed to be doing. Something with books and words and... oh, yes... writing them. Hmm.

Then I closed the box again and went back to my task. Must....clean...the....garage.

Long story short, we finished the garage and I cleaned my closet and I'm over it now.

So now I think I'm ready to let Writer Me back out and get back to work.

Julia Cameron inspired me today. I picked up my copy of "The Right to Write" and was thumbing through it, and she says of the writing life, "I like writing to be...portable and flexible. I like writing to be something that fits into cracks and crannies. I don't like it to dominate my life. I like it to fill my life."

Yes.

I get overwhelmed sometimes by the feeling that I must quarantine myself for hours without interruption in order to be effective as a writer. When I slip into this mindset, though, it paralyzes me, because I know I'll never be able to find that time without sacrificing family time or time that should be spent doing something more practical, like cleaning my house. I can't fit it all in, so the writing stops. When the writing stops, I get antsy and detached because I feel like I'm not being a good steward of the gift God has given me.


I like the idea of it filling my life instead of dominating. I can do that.

So this year, my resolution for Writer Me is to shift the thinking. Find nooks and crannies to fill with this glorious gift that God has given me, and let Him glorify Himself through me in this way. I'll take care of the quantity and trust God to take care of the quality. Manic Me may not like it much, but she can get over it. Charles Hummel called it "the tyranny of the urgent," and I'm tired of being ruled by it.

"I myself do nothing. The Holy Spirit Himself accomplishes all through me." -- William Blake

Things I Have Noticed

1. Elderly ladies put everything in ziploc bags.
2. Coffee, while amazing, will always, without exception, keep me up all night. Especially nonfat quad peppermint mochas.
3. Too much television keeps a writer from writing.
4. The holiday season keeps a writer from writing.
5. Presidential races are alternately like cheese, coffee, and morphine.
6. Cedar makes me very ill.
7. Britney Spears is ubiquitous.
8. It is very hard to get to the gym.
9. There are a lot of movies about teachers who change the world through the power of books.
10. Librarians are underrated.