I don't know what was better, the movie or the experience

This afternoon I ventured out to an independent movie theatre to watch An Education. What I have to say about the movie is that it is fabulous. The theatre is situated right next to Sacs Fifth Avenue, and the parking lot is full of Lexus, Minis, BMWs, Cadillacs, and the like. I felt sheepish as I parked my Pontiac near all the swank.

I arrived about 10 minutes prior to the start of the movie, and by the time I sat down, the theatre was about half full.  I was the youngest viewer.  By the time the previews began, I was still the youngest person there, and I'd say at least 95% of the audience was over 70. I woman directly in front of me had her hair set for the week.

Prior to the previews there was a timely and strategic Cadillac commercial, which I'm sure made more than one audience member soil their adult diapers with excitement.  It was a weird experience to say the least, but delightfully memorable.

Although you may not have a similar experience to mine, see the movie if you get a chance. Some might call it a coming of age drama, but I think they're missing the film if they chalk it up to that.  It's about a girl who loses her innocence, and comes back to find it. It's about defining what living is. It's about the humility of second chances. It's about things turning out right in the end when you are cheering for it to turn out wrong. I hope that doesn't ruin it for you, but it's a snippet of my unfolding thoughts.

dysfunctional therapy

I have lately been enamored with www.peopleofwalmart.com

It just feels good.  Check it out and laugh hardily!

what makes a great morning?

This morning was amazing.  I got up at 6:30 and had the quiet to myself.  I brewed a french press of Birds & Bees shade grown organic coffee (I don't like it because of the organic shade grown, in case Gina is reading this).  I ate some Trader Joe's cheerios.  I read.  And, what makes the morning perfect besides that: listening to NPR news morning edition.

Tonight will be a great evening: beer, grilled burgers (my uncle's beef), potato chips with french onion dip, root beer floats, good friends.  Can't wait.

Anxious Anxiety

I have had an extremely anxiety filled week.  I met my potentially future supervisor for my counseling internship (it was kind of like an interview), saw my first client (I'm pretty sure she wanted to hug me), set up my first couples therapy session, had a wretched group therapy session via my group dynamics class, and anticipate counseling and supervision today and tomorrow.

Anxiety creeps up into your stomach, and it sits there, hot and knotty.  I'm convinced it controls my heart beat and boosts my metabolism.  What I'm thinking about it what it communicates to me.  Clearly it says that I don't feel at ease, but I also think it makes me question myself.  Am I good enough, likable enough, courageous enough, competent enough?  It makes me aware that I listen to the voice of pride telling me that I must be in control, that I can't trust God.  It highlights my brokenness and the areas of my life in need of sanctification.

I hate how it feels, but I think I just may be thankful for it.

Ahem.

Okay, I'm back for now.  Summer has arrived, so I feel like I have some down time.  I've got two classes for the summer.  One's over and done with and the other just started--Group Dynamics.  My counseling internship is just underway. I'm slightly intimidated, but at the same time not.  After just one short year of classes, they are planning to set me loose to meddle in the lives of others. I will meet with my first client on Monday.



In other news I just got back from a visit to Atlanta.  I feel a bit sheepish saying it was to see my dog, so I'll instead say I got  to see my dear friend Patty, my brother, sister-in-law, and the dogs.



Bianca is getting a little older, showing a bit of white around the eyes.  She's mellowing, but very much still stubborn and verbal.  She has vastly improved her skills of catching waffles off of her nose.

I'm shutting down for awhile

Due to feeling pressure to update, and not wanting to, I'm shutting the blog down for awhile.  If you keep the blog on some sort of feed you'll notice if I start up again.  But, don't hold your breath.

morning class, a haiku

When I looked at it

a sadness came over me:

coffee cup empty.

Resurrection thoughts or It's not about the damn bunny

In some ways I'm revisiting an earlier post in writing this, but I think it is worthwhile as Easter is upon us.  In my mind I have been thinking over and over again that if the resurrection hadn't happened, then Christ's death wouldn't matter, because he'd be dead.  I'm not trying to downplay the significance of Jesus' s death by any means.  But, the fact that after he was dead and buried, he inhaled and came back into life matters tremendously.  His inhalation means that everything prophesied about him in the Old Testament is true.  Everything he told his disciples is true.  That he is God and man at the same time is true.  That he is prophet, priest, and king is true.  But, the resurrection had to happen.  It is through the resurrection that I can draw near to God.

What this means for me who believes in it all, is that I can push back against the darkness in this world and in my life, because he inhaled.  I can fight for my heart and the hearts of others, because he inhaled.  I can believe that I'm worth fighting for, because he fought for me and he won when he inhaled.  I can fight for hope, live in hope, pursue hope with vigor, because he took a breath after dying on a cross, shedding his blood, carrying everything wicked, thoughtless, indifferent, shameful thought our deed I will ever think or do with him.  He made life possible for me.  The resurrection means he won.

Another shout out to Andrew Peterson's High Noon

When Jesus took in that breath 
And shattered all Death with his life 
So long, you wages of sin 
Go on, don’t you come back again 
I’ve been raised and redeemed 
You’ve lost all your sting 
To the victor of the battle

Another plug for The Writer's Almanac

Besides interesting poetry, there are fun little snippets from history about those who have contributed to the written word.  I never knew the book below was written by a woman.  To check our or subscribe to The Writer's Almanac, click here.

It was on this day in 1818 that Mary Shelley published her gothic horror novel Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus. In 1816, 19-year-old Mary and her lover Percy Shelley were staying with Lord Byron in Switzerland. It rained a lot, and they were stuck in the house. They read ghost stories, and Lord Byron got the idea that they should each write a ghost story themselves. Byron and Percy Shelley gave up quickly, but Mary spent many days trying to think of a story. One night the two men had a conversation about the spontaneous generation of life and the possibility of re-animating a corpse. Mary went to bed, but she couldn't sleep, and she had a vision: "I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion." And she went to work writing. Two years later, on this day in 1818, Frankenstein was published in London, and it became an instant best-seller. Mary Shelley was 21 years old.

Sometimes I hear the gospel in songs, and I weep.

This song was playing as I drove today.  It got to me.  Especially the parts in bold.

If you don't own music by this man, you should.

Andrew Peterson

Love and Thunder

High Noon  

High noon in the valley of the shadow 
When the deep of the valley was bright 
When the mouth of the tomb 
Shouted, "Glory, the Groom is alive" 
So long, you wages of sin 
Go on, don't you come back again 
I've been raised and redeemed 
You've lost all your sting 
To the victor of the battle 
At high noon in the valley 
In the valley of the shadow 

Now the demons, they danced in the darkness 
When that last ragged breath left his lungs 
And they reveled and howled 
At the war that they thought they had won 
But then, in the dark of the grave 
The stone rolled away 
In the still of the dawn on the greatest of days 

High noon in the valley of the shadow 
When the shadows were shot through with light 
When Jesus took in that breath 
And shattered all Death with his life 
So long, you wages of sin 
Go on, don't you come back again 
I've been raised and redeemed 
You've lost all your sting 
To the victor of the battle 
High noon in the valley of the shadow 

Let the people rejoice 
Let the heavens resound 
Let the name of Jesus, who sought us 
And freed us forever ring out 
All praise to the fighter of the night 
Who rides on the light 
Whose gun is the grace of the God of the sky 

High noon in the valley of the shadow 
When the shadows were shot through with light 
When the mouth of the tomb 
Shouted, "Glory, the Groom is alive" 
So long, you wages of sin 
I said go on, don't you come back again 
I've been raised and redeemed 
All praise to the king 
The victor of the battle 
High noon in the valley 
In the valley of the shadow 

Good things

For my birthday 2 years ago, my friend Amy Hatcher gave me this Gerber Daisy plant.  Several times a year it blooms for me and the flower lasts an impressively long time.  This bloom opened up on Friday.

Why New Testament History & Theology is Important

Today in class I learned one of those little jewels of information.

Jesus was born in 6 B.C.  

How could he do that, I wondered?  My friend Hayden said it's because he is God.  

My professor said that the theologians did the math wrong.  King Herod at the time only ruled until 4 B.C., so if Jesus was born in 0 B.C., then Herod would have already been dead and the order to kill all of the boys would never have happened, Joseph and the fam never would have had to flee to Egypt, etc.  I didn't really want to know all of that.  Jesus being born in 6 B.C. is funny all on it's own.

Last Chance Harvey

I saw this movie with Karen yesterday, and it was wonderful.  It showed a desire for companionship and relationship.  It portrays the risk and fear that is involved with starting a new relationship or with trying to reconcile a past one.  There's wit, charm, and redemption, all things I like in a good movie.

My favorite line is said by Emma Thompson's character and is something to the effect of I think I'm more comfortable feeling disappointed, and I guess I'm mad at you for taking that away.

The movie is well written and Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman do their usual best.  Go see it!

Things I don't relate to

I am sitting in a class on Job this week.  Yesterday we discussed Job's anguish in losing his children, etc.  One thing he asks,

"Did you not pour me out like milk and curdle me like cheese?" (10:10)

I can't say I've ever felt exactly like this.

5 days 'til B-day

 In just 5 short days the beer I brewed with my Dad will be ready.  It really is the  the gift that keeps on giving, at least 47 times.  Cheers!

Worshipful Anger

Apparently I'm angry with God.  I say apparently, because it makes me uncomfortable to straightforwardly and honestly state that I am really pissed at God.  I keep my anger at a low simmer, because if I let it loose I think it might scare the hell out of me.  My counselor asked if I thought it was possible to rage against God in worship.  This question makes me uncomfortable, because I think it just might be possible.  It might be the most worshipful thing I could do right now.  I welcome as well as implore you for your thoughts.

I put this post in the hopeful thoughts category, because I think it's exactly where it belongs.  Think about that for a moment.

A delightful, laugh-out-loud post

I was reading Margie Haack's post today and was cheered!  Give it a read and be cheered too!

http://toadsdrinkcoffee.blogspot.com/2009/01/buried-not-dead.html

Anyone need a babysitter?

 

Owen loves to come over to my apartment, because I've got all of the cool toys!

Lazy Saturday Afternoons

This last Saturday I roasted my first turkey, because I had the time!  I seasoned it with lemon-pepper, salt, and butter.  Out of the oven came 12 pounds of goodness.  Snaps to Karen for helping me with planning and carving.

   

New Year's Resolution

cyn⋅i⋅cal

–adjective

1.	like or characteristic of a cynic; distrusting or disparaging the motives of others.

2.	showing contempt for accepted standards of honesty or morality by one's actions, esp. by actions that exploit the scruples of others.

3.	bitterly or sneeringly distrustful, contemptuous, or pessimistic.

For too many years I have prided myself on being cynical and sarcastic.  Granted, there is much humor to be found in a well-stated cynical comment, but the problem lies in the darkness of my heart.  I believe a little too much in the cynical comment.  It's a means of protection against disappointment.  It disregards hope.  This year I resolve to choose to trust the motives of others unless given reason not to.  I resolve to face my issues of contempt, for self and others.  I resolve to forge my identity in the cross and not in the sharpness of my tongue.  One of my professors paraphrased Jerram Barrs as saying that there is no place in the Christian heart for cynicism, because we have One whom we look to whose motives and actions can be completely trusted and enable us to believe that it won't always be this way (my paraphrase of his paraphrase).  Here's to it not always being this way!