"N" is for Nice Timing

Let me start off my sharing that I have a shoulder injury. No one really knows about it and you can’t tell by looking at me that I have the issue. It’s only noticeable when I’m trying to lift something over my head. Okay, backstory complete.

A couple of weeks ago, I was a part of a meeting with some other ministers and some representatives from an evangelism organization. I had met these representatives a week before when they had done a brief discussion about what they do. They had passed out some bracelets and bibles to the group. As we were about to start an evangelism series with our students at my church, I asked the guy where I could get more bracelets. He simply handed me a big bag of them and said, “Here’s your starter pack of bracelets.” I thought, “How cool is this?”

So, in this next meeting, they gave us a bit more about what they do in the communities that invite them. Afterwards when we were just sitting around the table chatting, the guy points at me and asks, “Aren’t you the one I gave a bunch of bracelets to?”

I nodded and said, “Why, yes I am and thank you so much for them. They are going to be very useful.”

He then asked, “Do you want a case of bibles?”

“Um, yeah!”

So, when the conversation ended, I walked with him to his car. He grabbed the box of almost 60 bibles and then walked me to my car. He loaded them into the back for me. I thanked him profusely and explained what we were going to use them for. He said that he was excited to give me these tools and couldn’t wait to hear how the training went.

He then started to walk away.

He stopped about 3 feet away and turned around. “Um, I have to ask. Is there something wrong with your shoulder?”

I was surprised by the question. I replied, “Um, yes. I can’t lift my arm up past my shoulder without help.”

He said, “Wow, I just felt the Holy Spirit wanting me to ask you that. Can I pray for you?”

“Of course, you can.”

He came over and put his hand on my shoulder and prayed for healing. When he was done, he asked me how it felt. I was able to lift my arm all the way up to press my arm against my ear. It was still sore but didn’t hurt as much. I told him so. I said thank you and he went on his way.

Now listen, guys, before you think I’m all crazy and stuff, let me explain something to you. My shoulder felt better for only about an hour and half. Today, as I write this, it hurts just as much as it did before he prayed. But that’s not what I’m concerned with. I grew up in the era of Jim Bakker and Benny Hinn and always just rolled my eyes. I believe that God can heal but I don’t think He’s gonna do it just to line the pockets of the healer. It would also be super easy for me to say that it just didn’t work because an hour and half later my shoulder pain was back. I could mark it as a hoax or my adrenaline tricking me.

I’m not doing that though. Instead, I think that guy did get a prompting from the Holy Spirit for realsies. What that tells me is that in that moment, the Holy Spirit was concerned with me.

The Holy Spirit was concerned with me.

I believe that the Holy Spirit was making itself known as being active in my life.

If the Holy Spirit can fix a shoulder for a little bit, then it’s going to be with me when I’m sharing Jesus with someone. 

It’s going to be with me when I’m scared because the power just went out due to a thunderstorm. 

It’s going to be with me when I’m joyful because I’m getting to spend some time with a friend I haven’t seen in a while.

Those couple of minutes with that guy demonstrated to me that the Holy Spirit is concerned with me and is as active in my life as I will let it be.

I am also confident in this: If the Holy Spirit is concerned with ME, of all people, then it is also concerned with YOU.

"M" is for miscarriage

Many of you already know that in June of last year, I miscarried my first child. It was right before we left for youth camp. That week at camp was one of the hardest weeks I’ve ever had to live through. On one hand, I was falling apart on the inside with heart breaking for myself and my husband. But on the other hand, I had to be the one in charge protecting our kids and being there for them in the spiritual and emotional questions. Blessedly, I had some of the greatest support in the other adult leaders from our church. I also had (have) some of the best kids around.

What hasn’t been announced to everyone is that last week, I miscarried my second child. That’s 2 in 9 months. My body is still working to repair itself and my emotions are still all over the place. Here’s the rub: I’m angry. I’m angry at God but I really don’t want to be. I know God loves me and I know He wants what’s best for me.

Yeah, yeah. I know all that. I can even understand why He might allow this happen to me because I’m not as faithful to God as I should be. But I’m not the only one hurting through this.

The core of anger comes from the fact that He’s allowing this to happen to my husband, the most wonderful man I know. My husband is amazingly faithful. He gets up early to read his bible and He is involved in so many ministries at church. He has even volunteered helping people do their taxes FOR FREE. He had to go through certification training and has given up much of his time with no compensation in return. All because he wants to help people and show them Jesus.

So why would God let this happen to him?!! Twice?!!!

I know. I know. There are at least 15 reasons why things happen the way they do.* And I will get over this eventually. Like I said, I don’t want to be mad at God. I want to be comforted by Him.

That’s what I find absolutely amazing in all of this. While I am still angry, He still comforts. He can comfort because I haven’t stopped talking to Him. If I keep that line of communication open, God will send me all the comfort and love I need.  

Despite my anger.

Despite my fear.

Despite my despair.

He is always there.

God is big enough to handle our anger and fear. He can handle it. It’s not always bad to be angry at God. We just can’t let that anger lead to the silent treatment. It’s the silent treatment that kills a relationship, not the anger. Admitting to God that I’m angry has allowed me to take His forgiveness and comfort. God is soothing my anger because I am listening to Him.

I’m still hurting, but He’s soothing that, too.

*Seriously, if you haven’t already read the book, you need to read “15 Reasons Why Things Happen” by Darril Deaton. Be sure to read the forward, too.

"L" is for Longitude and Latitude

In 1985, a woman named Julie Gold wrote a song called, “From a Distance.” This song was recorded by several artists but the most famous was the version recorded by Bette Midler. The song went on to get the Grammy for song of the year in 1991. Recently, the song popped up on my #TBT Spotify playlist. It really is a beautiful song and I was reminded once again of how talented Bette Midler is. Her voice is distinctive without being abrasive.

Anyway, as I listened to the song, I remember some of the “controversy” the song caused by using the phrase, “God is watching us from a distance.” Evangelicals got all up in arms saying that God is not just at a distance from us. Yes, He’s watching but He’s with us. They claimed that the song was perpetuating the hands-off approach of Godly rule. They claimed that it undermined the goal of personal relationship with Jesus.

Why do people have to make such a big deal out of things?

Is it possible that there are so many other things that are deserving of a stand over their interpretation of this song?

Let me give you a different perspective of the song. Being a Christian most of life and being involved in the treating of addictions, I have heard the Lord’s Prayer SO MANY TIMES. I also have several family members that are Catholic so, of course, every wedding and funeral has multiple recitations of it, though they don’t finish it. I mean, come on, “Thine is the power and the glory forever and ever,” is kind of an important point.

Anyway, with that being said, it seems to me that From a Distance just seems to echo the sentiment at the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer that says, “Our Father, who art in heaven.” That seems like quite a distance to me. But is it?

I’ve had the tremendous privilege to have Darril Deaton as my pastor for many, many years. Whenever speaking about the Lord’s Prayer, he states that the statement, “Our Father, who art in heaven…” is not about location, it is about position. I don’t mean position in the cosmos or the latitude and longitude of our position. No, I mean position as in the role we play: our role as human as opposed to the role of God. We, humans, can’t be in heaven right now, but God can. In fact, wherever God is, is heaven.* We don’t make a location heaven just by our very presence. We can’t. But God can because of who He is. So, my thinking is, when it comes to the song, that yes, God is watching us from a distance—the distance between Creator and creation.

The distance between Physician and patient.

The distance between Father and child.

The distance between Savior and saved.

Ok, ok, I know the song is filled with imagery that is focused on location-type distance, but I challenge you to read the lyrics from the perspective of relational distance. For example, take the lyric, “From a distance you look like my friend even though we are at war.” If you can distance yourself from the conflict and just look at the person, do they not look like your friend? If you distance yourself from the arguments and differences could we not do as the scripture says in Romans 12:18, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone?”

Oh man, now Wind Beneath Wings has just come up in my #TBT playlist. I think Bette Midler had a thing for eagles.

* That’s biblical. I’m not just making it up. Read “Heaven” by Randy Alcorn, if you doubt me.

"K" is for Knowing Better

As I sit here in a coffee shop working, I can't help but overhear the women at the table next to me. I feel sorry for them because according to their conversation, everyone in their life is terrible.

They have not had one nice thing to say about anyone.

They've talked about coworkers, family, and random strangers.

All conversation has been critical and negative.

I have also heard the phrase, or some form of the phrase: "I'm not trying to be ugly but..." approximately every 5th or 6th sentence.

Now I have just heard them belly laugh over someone's mental illness. Not cool.

What first got me was that they were complaining about a Facebook friend of theirs that frequently posts about how much she loves her husband. Apparently, expressing your love for your spouse is irritating and mock worthy.

At first, I found myself getting angry. These types of conversations are what perpetuate the stereotype that women are caddy biddies who get together with "friends" to gossip. They should know better!

Then I remembered that I have done my fair share of venting and criticizing. Lately, I've made a conscious effort to not be as critical. Most do not know I've made that effort because it hasn't been obvious yet.

Why hasn't it been obvious yet? Because I am terrible at it.

What I have also noticed is that I have a tendency to be overly critical and gossipy when I'm in a bad mood. This bad mood can come from not feeling well to not having enough sleep or a circumstance that got me down.

Current circumstance: Women at the table next to me which is resulting in me being overly critical.

Just like them.

O Lord, please help me to be less critical and more understanding. Maybe these women are also having a bad circumstance. When I get overheard, may my conversation not put someone in the position of needing to be understanding. May I always be partaking in my favorite fruit (Joy) and may it be obvious to those around me. LORD, please help me to know better.

There is quite a bit of LOUD foul language involved as well and the Mennonites just walked in. This might get entertaining now.

PS: I did get my t-shirt that has my slogan on it: Joy is my favorite fruit. My sister with Adventure and Truth Designs made me one for Christmas.

"J" is for JOY

I have a couple of book ideas floating around in my head and one day I will actually put some more work into them. I have a basic outline for one of them…but I couldn’t tell you where it is. I have the introduction written for another. Again, I couldn’t tell you where it is. Probably somewhere in my office at the church that is currently a storage room (by my own doing, and I’m working on fixing it, don’t judge).

All that to say that while I am not good at making any headway on these projects, I am very good at coming up with the titles of the books that I’m going to write.

And I have another one.

It’s one of those phrases that I find myself saying and need to get on a t-shirt. Here it is:

It’s now copywrited.

Copywritten.

Copyrighted?

Copywrote?

You can’t have it!

Many people have this great idea for a life verse. “Life verse” is one of those Christian phrases that I usually find intolerable. So for those of you who might not know what a “life verse” is, allow me to direct you to this definition:

It's a Bible verse that means something special to a believer.1

I usually define it as someone’s favorite verse. Especially since it can change from time to time depending on what circumstance your life is in. Due to that fact alone is why I don’t like the term because the term “life verse” implies that it doesn’t change and that it lasts for your, um, life. I also don’t like the term because it is one of those things that Christians seem to insist that each of us have.

“What’s your life verse?”

“Oh, I don’t have one.”

**horrified gasp**

Anyway, if I had to pick one (which I don’t), it would be Nehemiah 8:10. Well, actually only half of the verse², so Nehemiah 8:10b: Do not grieve for the JOY of the Lord is your strength.

When I first read this, it made me pause. Strength? Hmm. Imma have to think about this one.

So, I did.

After some studying and reflecting (and prayer and stuff), I truly realized that I had been equating “joy” with “happiness.” They aren’t the same thing!!! God never told us to be happy. He told us to have JOY. Happiness is an emotion that is based on happenings. Happiness and happenings have the same root: Happen. Happiness is based upon what is happening. I don’t want to be emotionally ruled by what is happening around me.

Especially not in this day and age.

No!!! I want something that persists past that.

Enter: JOY³

Joy is not an emotion. It’s a fruit of the Spirit. Here’s the thing: It is easy to find happiness. It’s true! Don’t believe me?

Go take a bite of your favorite food.

Or hug your mom.⁴

Or read your favorite book.

Or watch your favorite movie.

Or drink a Dr Pepper.⁵

You feel happiness when you do these things. The hard part is making that happiness last. That’s why I want JOY because happiness goes away once the circumstances change.

But if I got JOY, then no matter the circumstance, I can weather through it.

But how do I get JOY? Ah, my friends, that part is easy, too. Since it’s a fruit of the Spirit, as found in Galatians 5:22⁶, one must simply seek after the Spirit.

The fruit of the Spirit is not just something you can pick and choose. You can’t simply say, “I’m really good with the self-control part but I’m weak in the patient part.”

This one might hurt a little.

If you are lacking in any, you are lacking in all.

You must build up your patience to build up your faithfulness. You must build up your kindness to build up your peace. You must build up your love to build up your joy.

When I say that joy is my favorite fruit, I’m not saying that it is more important than any other nor am I saying that it is the fruit that I am best at. Let’s see if I can give an example of what I mean. My husband has a couple of dress shirts that I picked out for him. When he wears the red one, he gets compliments from a couple of certain people. I think he looks great in that red shirt. I mean, come on, I picked it out. But I really like it when he wears the blue one. That’s my favorite. It’s makes his hazel eyes look bluer and I think he just looks hot. I still love him in that red shirt, but the blue is my favorite.

I love love and love peace. But JOY is my favorite.

Maybe that’s why Chewbacca mom, Candace Payne and I should be best friends.

****************************************************

¹ http://www.dictionaryofchristianese.com/life-verse/

² Now, don’t get me wrong, the first half of the verse is pretty awesome, too: “Go and eat what is rich, drink what is sweet, and send portions to those who have nothing prepared since today is holy to our Lord.” However, I don’t really need to keep reminding myself that I need to eat and drink.

³ Not the Inside Out character.

⁴ Or other favorite-type person.

⁵ Man, I miss Dr Pepper!

⁶ Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-controooOOOOOL

"I" is for Interpretation

sec·u·lar

/ˈsekyələr/

adjective

denoting attitudes, activities, or other things that have no religious or spiritual basis

sa·cred

/ˈsākrəd/

adjective

connected with God (or the gods) or dedicated to a religious purpose and so deserving veneration

What I’m about to say may come as a surprise to some but I don’t believe there is such a thing as secular music.

But Denise, what about all the songs about sex, drugs, and hate? You can’t possibly say that music is sacred!

Yes, I can. It isn’t the music that is secular. It’s the lyrics. I’m a big believer in the power of words. Words mean things. I like to look up the definitions of words to make sure that I am using the appropriate words to convey what I am meaning. I don’t want there to be any room for misinterpretation. Words are powerful. A well place group of words can change someone’s day for the better. They can let someone know what you are thinking and feeling about any given situation, person, or event. They can break down a person and strip them bare. They can break a heart or help heal one.

Words are powerful.

Therefore, lyrics are powerful. Lyrics can turn a heavenly sound into an earthly exultation. They can lift someone’s spirits or deepen a depression. They can help you see the face of God or connect with worldly desires. Lyrics are simply one person’s interpretation.

The music itself is made up of notes, melody, harmony, chord progressions, time signatures, and dynamics that are interpreted by various instruments that add different colors and shapes. The listener becomes the interpreter of the music as it evokes certain emotions and memories. The music itself is sacred, but the lyrics can bring an interpretation that is not.

Let me apply this to another area that is rather important to me. I had someone refer to secular psychology the other day. At first, I just read over it and did not think too much of it. Then I thought about it some more. The term psychology is not solely a secular concept. Just because the parents of most modern theories were developed and made famous by secular theorists does not take away from the sacredness of the concepts.

For example, Carl Rogers is one of the most well-known fathers of psychology. Though he grew up thinking that he was going to go into the ministry, Rogers became an atheist and was quite evangelical about it. One of his big concepts is that of unconditional positive regard (UPR). UPR is not a secular concept! It took an atheist to tell the psychological world about taking care regardless of class, age, race, economics, or even personality.

Again, it’s a matter of interpretation. Psychology, or any kind of science, is not a secular field. It is the people involved in it that interpret it as secular or sacred. As a Christian counselor who has worked for secular companies, all I do is Christian counseling.

Does that mean that you can only see people who are Christians? Does that mean if you see someone who isn’t a Christian that you spend your session trying to convert them or just talking about the Bible?

No, the answer is no. Throughout my career, I’ve seen atheists, Buddhists, Hindus, homosexuals, transgender, active drug users, rapists, those on parole or probation, and pretty much any other category that you might want to drop someone into. I can help someone through the skills of psychology and the love of Jesus without proselytizing. I can use psychological concepts and skills from a Christian perspective. I stand firm to my beliefs and my Jesus and I allow the Holy Spirit to do His thing. I have never had someone leave my care because they thought I was pushing Jesus on them but I have had many client tell me that they left one certain therapist because they felt that they were being preached to. I can also tell you that I have had the opportunity to share my faith with a client on numerous occasions simply because I showed them unconditional positive regard even while having an opposing belief system.

Interpretation is the thing. 

"H" is for Horrible Bosses

Back in April I started a challenge that I never finished because I can never seem to finish those type of things. Well, I'm picking it back up today. It originally was an April challenge but I obviously failed only making it to the 7th letter. Maybe I'll actually complete it before April comes around again. Anyway, "H" is for Horrible Bosses.

No, I'm not talking about the movie. I've never seen the movie and there is not a plan to see it, either. No, this is about real horrible bosses. I'm not talking about my boss(es) but someone who is very dear to me (who did not give me permission to post about this) has just been shafted by her horrible bosses. This particular shafting is just another one in a long list of questionable choices they have made. Their behavior has confirmed much of my disillusionment with the American church. 

My feelings toward the American church are not about the people. I love God's people and spending time with them and serving them and serving with them is one of my favorite things in the world. 

However, much of the church leadership has led to a shift in my attitude. 

It is not a shift for the better. 

I am extremely fortunate to be working at a church where the leadership is not too big for their britches. They seek to do God's will and serve Him and His people in the best way possible. That includes teaching His word and loving. Grace Fellowship is place where people love. It's that simple.

Just simply loving people. No matter what.

It is this church that has helped me understand what it means to "love people to the cross" and not just stand on your beliefs of what the worst sins are in the hopes that it "set an example." Ugh!* 

However, I have been put in the position to either experience first-hand or watch others experience the holier-than-thou-I'm-a-spiritual-giant-so-of-course-I'm-right attitude that many American Christians have. It's like they take people who disagree with them as the great persecution of those called by God. Being in a leadership position in a church or ministry does leave one open for a higher level of scrutiny and even attack. But not every person who has an opposing opinion or a suggestion is the proverbial thorn in their side. God could be using those people to help correct where they have gone awry. **

Let me give you an example of the OPPOSITE of my complaint: I've seen my pastor take a smack down, finger-wagging, scolding with humility. I've watched him analyze himself and his actions and take the scolding that he took to make him a better minister. It would have been so easy for him to dismiss what that person said to him. He didn't. He knows he's human and makes mistakes. He knows that, just like the rest of us, we may need some correction from people that love him. 

These previously mentioned horrible bosses seem to have this idea that everything they do is God-ordained and anyone that has even a small deviation from their way of doing things, is not in God's plan. I know I'm probably being overly critical but I'm pissed. 

My disillusionment with the American church is that I see a lack of true, God-centered love. The kind of "love" I see the most often is one that is self-serving and ends in a badge that can be worn that says, "Look at me! I loved someone!"

To that person that is so very dear to me: your horrible bosses are now somebody else's problem. I love you.

Now, where do I get my badge?

*Please don't misunderstand me. I do think it is important to not compromise your standards or convictions. However, our job is to love. If we think someone else's sin is worth protesting than why aren't we protesting outside your house for that lie you told last week or the Facebooking you do at work on company time? 

**Coincidentally, there a great new book out that can be ordered from Amazon for your Kindle or paperback. It's called 15 Reason Why Things Happen by Darril Deaton. Great book. Don't forget to read the forward. 

"G" is for Giggle

When did it become unmasculine to giggle? When did that word become associated with girlie things? Is it associated with girlie things? Am I just making that up? Or am I simply projecting what others have said to me when I've commented on their giggles?

I'm gonna go with the last one. He's gonna be mad at me for saying this, but here goes:

My husband giggles.

He does! He hates it when I say that because he says that men don't giggle. Well, I looked up the definition of giggle in the dictionary and this is what it says:

gig·gle

/ˈɡiɡəl/

verb

laugh lightly in a nervous, affected, or silly manner.

noun
a light, silly laugh.

No where in that definition does it say that it is unmanly or girlie. And no, I didn't just cut off the defintion to suit my purposes. I find giggles to be very endearing. I love it when my husband giggles. It is such a joyful sound because he doesn't do it when he's nervous. He only does it when he finds something surprisingly funny but not guffaw-funny. 

By the way, his guffaw is also a favorite of mine.

"F" is for Feelings, ugh

I’ve posted about this subject before so writing this blog was not a difficult one. Have you ever had someone tell you when you were upset, “Don’t be upset?” Doesn’t really help, does it? Many times when someone does that, it just leads to feeling more upset. This type of situation typically induces thoughts such as, “If I could turn it off, I would,” and “Oh, ok, because you told me to not be upset then I won’t.” The thought that we have no control over our emotions is rampant throughout our culture.  For example:

“You can’t help what you feel.”

“That’s just how I feel. I can’t help it.”

“I wish I could change the way I feel, but I just can’t.”

“I can’t help but love him/her.”

(Cute picture. Stupid quote.)

 All of those statements reflect a general consensus of society as a whole. These are phrases I hear uttered on almost a daily basis. I hear it from strangers in the coffee shop, characters on TV and in movies, from my clients, and from friends as they share their woes.

I challenge the idea that we have no control over our emotions. I think people who say the previous phrases are not giving themselves nearly enough credit. Doing so makes us a victim of our own emotions when emotions were to make things interesting, not to tether us to negativity.

Our emotions and our resulting behavior stem from what we tell our selves about the given situation. One boy gets rear-ended in traffic and goes ballistic on the other driver. Another boy in the same situation calmly gets out of his car and exchanges insurance information. What makes these boys different from one another? If our emotions are controlled by our situation, then these boys should have reacted the same way. However, the first boy was telling himself that being rear-ended was unacceptable and shouldn’t have happened. This belief led to his meltdown. The second boy was telling himself that this situation is unfortunate but it could have been worse. This belief led to him being calm and doing what was necessary to resolve the situation. The first boy was a victim of his own emotions and the second was empowered by his emotions.

Let’s talk about love, shall we? Now, I don’t believe love to be an emotion but that’s a blog for another time. Love is, however, another place that people have a tendency to believe that they have no choice. Recently, on a popular TV show someone uttered the statement, “You can’t help who you love.”

Not true. You can. God created us with a heart AND a brain. God gave us a command to love. John 13:34-35 says, “I give you a new command: Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you must also love one another. By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” If you couldn’t help who you love then God’s command to love one another would be redundant or at worst, a trap setting us up to fail. What makes a command a command instead of a statement is that the person being commanded has a choice to comply or not. If we had no choice then the scripture passage would read, “I give you a new statement: We will love one another.” Jesus chose to love us and thus we choose to love one another….or to not love one another.

 Don’t convince yourself that you are tied down by what you feel or who you love. Instead, you can be empowered by how you feel and how you love. Arguably, the most popular verse regarding empowerment is 2 Timothy 1:7. While the context of the verse is in regards to a calling of God to boldness in sharing the faith. I find that completely applicable to this subject. “For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.” This verse speaks to having a heart (love) and a brain (sound judgment). Let your love give you power to be the person that God has called you to be: a person with emotions, love, and a brain all working together.

"E" is for Everybody! Everybody!

La dee dah dee doh!

Those of you who know what that was all about, I salute you.

I miss Homestar Runner terribly. My group of friends and I frequently make references to things we have seen on that site. It still exists. I visit it every once in a while to see if there is anything new. And miracle of miracles, there was a new Marzipan's answering machine posted this month!

Click here to view it.

Most people who were frequent visitors of homestarrunner.com loved Strong Bad's emails the most. While I loved them, they weren't my favorite. I really loved the shorts and toons. However, I will say that I did have an absolute favorite email. And it didn't even have Strong Bad in it. However, that one is no longer on the site. This is the latest one, though.

***EDIT: I was wrong! My husband found that my favorite Strong Bad email is still there. Here it is!!!***

And then, of course, there's this.

One day I was feeling very nostalgic and I did a google search of Homestar images to use as a rotating background on my Lappier. Here's a sampling:

 This one is actually from my favorite SB email:

"D" is for Doppelganger

I have a history with doppelgangers. I will tell just a few of my stories.

Picking a college was not an easy choice to make. I initially wanted to go to school closer to home. My original plan was for Eastern College in Pennsylvania. However, the closest Southern Baptist school to where I lived gave me a scholarship for being a Southern Baptist. Of course, that school was a 12-hour drive away from home. Despite the distance, I ended up at Gardner-Webb University near Charlotte, NC. That's a long way from Morris, CT.

When I first got to the school, I started noticing a trend. People kept calling me Ashley. My name isn't Ashley. As it turns out, people thought that I looked an awful lot like an older student named Ashley. Once I met her, she told me that she sometimes got called Denise. At the time, I wore hats on occassion and I wore glasses. Someone has a picture somewhere of me and Ashley but Ashley is wearing my hat and my glasses.

***

I am frequently amazed by how much people mistake the identities of others based on a few physical traits. This happens a lot with my husband and his cousin. They have three main similarities. They are big, they are bald, and they have beards. However, my husband has a blonde beard and it is pretty long. His cousin has a dark brown/red beard and doesn't shave off whatever hair he has remaining.

When I worked at the residential treatment facility for the chemical dependent aged 12-24, there was another counselor named Stacy. At the time I had short, brown hair and she had hair so long that she would braid it in a long braid over her left shoulder. Her hair was also wavy and light brown, almost blonde. Yet Stacy got called Denise and I got called Stacy on a regular basis. It happened at least once a day. One day, Stacy got so frustrated that during lunch one day she said, "We look nothing alike! The only similarity is that we are big and wear glasses but are glasses are even very different!" I believe there might have been an "arg" in there, too.

***

This last one is my favorite. One day, as I was walking on the third floor of the hospital I worked at, one of the nurses stopped me as asked if I had a chance yet to see the patient in room 23. Apparently, that patient had been asking about her Medicare paperwork multiple times. 

It took me a while but I finally realized who she thought I was. At the time, my hair had been colored a red violet. The woman that I was being mistaken for is about a foot shorter than me, doesn't wear glasses, has black hair, and a sweet demeanor. Oh yeah, and she is a completely different race than me. I am a very pasty Caucasian and she is a Mexican. 

The only similarity we have is that we are overweight. 

Arg.

"C" is for Craigslist

The idea behind Craigslist is a pretty cool one. At least, until you factor in how disgusting humanity is. Well, a couple of years ago, with our anniversary coming up, I had yet to figure out what to get Curtis. I wanted to get him something he would really like that he would never get for himself. Then one day, I remembered Curtis talking about how he wasn't sure how many episodes of NCIS he may have missed over the years. I started to do a search to see how much it would cost to buy all the seasons to date, which was 1-7.

Whew, it was expensive. I love my husband, but I couldn't afford that.

In walks Craigslist.

To my surprise, there were a lot of people in my area that were looking to sell their DVDs of NCIS seasons 1-7. I looked for someone near where I worked which was in a upper class neighborhood. I found one and the contact information was for a woman who was asking a very reasonable price.

I made contact.

She seemed like a very lovely lady. Her price was really low and when I asked why, she said that she and her husband were trying to downsize. I agreed to meet at her house. She gave me her address and away I went.

As I was driving through the neighborhood, the houses just kept getting bigger and bigger. I pulled into the circular driveway of the house and immediately thought my little Ford Fiesta did not belong here. I knocked on the door and a man answered. I got a little nervous. He knew who I was and then he told me his wife had run to the grocery store. He ushered me into what looked like an office in what could possibly be the biggest single family dwelling I have ever walked into. In his office, he has stacks and stacks of movies and TV series. I told him how much the ad said and I handed him the money. He put the DVDs in a bag and then motioned to another stack and said I could pick two more movies because I didn't give him a hard time on the price. I told him that it would be ridiculous for me to try and haggle when the price his wife set was a really good one.

Curtis really liked the gift.

Now NCIS is on Netflix. I guess I could have just waited a few years.

"B" is for Believable

Since my sister (in-law) moved to Hong Kong 4 years ago, I have found my improvisation skills have weakened. I miss my Lexus for many reasons but this reason proves that her absence is a detriment to me. Let me explain.

Lexus can be somewhat gullible. It has provided me with much amusement over the years. The way this usually manifests with me is that she will be wondering about something out loud and I provide the answer. More often than not, my answer is made up on the spot. However, Lexus finds them very believable. In her defense, I'm very good at making them sound plausible while keeping my face straight. Let's see if I can think of any example.

I just texted her to see if she remembers an actual example. Meanwhile, I'll make one up. One day, Lexus and I may be talking about some of the plays I've been in including Nunsense. Then in the midst of the conversation, Lexus will wonder, "I wonder why nuns wear those habits." The following is something I might tell her:

Well, you know how back in the early church, women always had their head covered? When Peter was named the first Pope, the Catholics want to still show respect but want to prove how they were better. So they took it further and covered themselves from head to foot. To differentiate themselves from the Muslims, they would leave their faces completely bare with the white framing to symbolize God's purity in their lives. 

Lexus would say, "Really?" then, "Wait, are you lying to me?"

Seems totally believable to me.

"A" is for Anime

I am totally copying my friend, Jeremy, and doing a blogging challenge. The goal is to do a blog a day in April (except Sundays) and use the alphabet as the guide. I'm starting a day late so I'll blog on this Sunday to catch up. So here we go.

"A" is for Anime

I have a friend that has a problem. Anything that has to do with Japan makes her squeal like a little kid opening presents on Christmas morning. Her biggest obsession (of sorts) is anime. I have a few other friends that are also really into anime but she's a bit ridiculous.

Since she and I are really close friends, I have been exposed to more anime than I care to admit. I even went to Anime North Texas (there was a Groupon). I gave in and started watching one called Attack on Titan. It was interesting but it kinda lost me after a while. I stopped watching right before the female Titan came around.

Then came RWBY. I watched all that was available because I was watching it with others. And true, I even have a favorite character. It was fun but when the third season came out, I didn't watch it. I know I will eventually but I think it can only be watched on Crunchy Roll and I don't have a subscription. I'm sure it will come out on Netflix. I'll watch it then.

Now, I'm making an effort with another one. Full Metal Alchemist. I've been told that the Brotherhood is the best but how can you jump into the middle of a complicated story. I've started from the beginning and so far it has my attention which means that it is distracting me from homework and paperwork.

Gotta say, the little kids in this show are absolutely adorable.

You can read Jeremy's A to Z Challenge here.

Thanks, Jeremy, for introducing me to the A-to-Z Challenge.

Cement and a Baby Food Jar

I arrived here at Denny’s to do homework and needed to get my backpack out of my trunk. As I was walking to my trunk, I lost track of the cement barrier used to stop the cars from going over a curb. I knew it was there and I even picked my foot up to step over it. But, I was too late. 

I went down. 

As I am sprawled with my left leg tucked under me and my elbow in the grass, I take an assessment of myself and I seem to be doing just fine. Nothing is screaming in pain and I can still feel all my fingers and toes.

I hear a voice, “Are you ok?” 

There’s a lady a couple of cars down who saw the whole thing. “Yes, I'm fine. Thanks so much.” 

“Do you need help up?” 

I giggle. “No, I'm good. Thank you for asking. That's really sweet.”

I look down at the grass where my elbow is currently encased in cold mud and see that there is a shattered baby food jar right near my hand. “Whew! That could have been bad.”

I hobble myself off the ground and notice some red spots on the curb. Then a couple more. Apparently I did NOT miss the baby food jar. My pinky had a large piece of skin that was “shaved” off.

Nice.

I wrap my finger in a napkin from my car (thanks to the example set forth by my father, I had plenty) and go inside to the bathroom. Good thing no one was in there because it looked like I had killed someone. Who knew a pinky could bleed so much? I wrapped it up in a paper towel and secured it with a hair tie from my bag. Linda, the manager, took one look at my bandage and told me that, "It's ok, Mexicans do that, too." She then got me a Band-aid.

So now, as I sit here writing this, I am starting to feel the spot where my knee smacked the pavement and where my ankle twisted a little. Doesn't hurt that much though.

Only I could fall in a concrete parking lot and get hurt by a baby food jar.

1% for 5 years

I know how it will go down

I know what I will say

I know how she will react

But I still must say it

I have to

“I’m praying for you.”

“As long as you don’t pray

For me to get better”

“Don’t worry. I’m not”

“What?”

“Instead, I’m praying that

I will stop

Being angry at you”

“Why would you be angry?”

“You chose. You chose this.

I’ve watched you slowly kill yourself

My whole life

My brother’s son won’t know you

He deserves to know you

And you, him.

My future child will not know you

That child deserves to know you

And you, the child.

As I long for an uncle I’ve never met,

Our children will long for you

I’m angry because you are making

Your mother lose another child

But most of all,

I’m praying that

You will remember the God of your youth”

“It’s the same god.”

“No, it isn’t.

Your god wants you to be love

And to transcend to a higher plane

My God IS love

And descended to our lowness

Because He loves me

And you

Remember Him. Please.

He remembers you.”

I know how it will go down

I know what I will say

I know how she will react

But I still must say it

Mustn't I?

a little self-centered

When someone leaves the church, I become distressed. Doesn't matter who they are, I still get distressed. Actually, distressed is not the right word.

I get angry.

Ok, ok, anger is a secondary emotion resulting from something else usually fear or hurt. For me, that primary emotion is hurt. I know it’s not all about me and people have to make decisions based on what’s good for them. I also understand that the universe does not revolve itself around me; however, I’m still hurt. Before labeling me a self-centered bellyache, let it be known that I understand what is about to be said sounds very egocentric. But when things happen, I immediately think about what I might be able to do to make it better or to look at what I might have done wrong. So, while there are other issues involved, this is what is going on in my head. Let me explain my anger/hurt.

I thought I had made a true connection with those in my church. I thought we were friends and that I was invested in their life as they were invested in mine. I have spent hours and hours with these people over the years sharing my heart with them and listening to their problems. I have also spent hours simply having fun with these people.

Yet, they could walk away.

Not just from me but from the other people who have also invested in them. My tenure as a minister and as a part of a church family, whether here or in various other parts of the country, I have experienced the pain and loss of people…just…leaving. It feels like I’m being traded in so they could trade up. It seems as if I’m not important enough to try. I feel forgettable.

I know that when people leave the church that they aren't trying to hurt me. That doesn't make the hurt any less. I read posts on Facebook about people and their new church and how much fun they are having and my heart hurts because our relationship was so easily pushed aside.

A lot of these emotions and taking it personally comes from my own insecurities that were conceived in the third grade and cemented in by my high school best “friend” who really just used me for my car and to get to my brother.

I don’t easily share myself with other people because I’m afraid of getting burned. I’m still not sure if I’m going to actually post this because of what the response may be. I usually keep my hurt to myself and hide behind anger or even pretend that it isn't bothering me. I want to be perceived as strong and that I didn't give someone else the power over my emotions.

But I’m not strong.

I’m vulnerable.

And every time someone leaves it makes me that much more hesitant to share myself again.

Weirdo Series: A Harlot

Things have been quite interesting for me. I'm still trying to make sense of it. A whole city fell down around me!! I knew it was going to happen but that doesn't make the experience anymore incredible when it happens. *sigh* Let me start from the beginning.

I lived in Jericho. I had a good job. Well, I had to work most nights but I got paid well. I hated my job, it was very degrading. I won't really get into what I actually did for a living but let me put it this way: the women in the neighborhood would call their children to them when I walked by. I was a bit of an outcast.  Since what I did wasn't glamorous job, I lived in a questionable neighborhood on the city wall.

My job took me throughout the city and I interacted with some very influential people. I heard most of the news of what was going on in and out of Jericho. I heard about the Red Sea crying up so the Israelites could cross and escape the Egyptians. I also heard about how two kings of big kingdoms had been defeated. Wait. Not just defeated, completely destroyed. None of the gods my countrymen worshiped were half as mighty.

Or reliable.

I didn't know much about Him, but I was sure that this was a god that I wanted to know more about. And even better yet, to serve. What a mighty God indeed.

One day, as I was working in my garden, I saw two men walking down the alleyway. They obviously did not belong in our city and I knew the city guard would be coming soon. I brought them into my home and hid them upstairs under some piles of flax I had on the roof drying so I could make linen. Apparently, somebody else saw the men and saw them in my yard and told on me. The city guard paid me a visit telling me to bring the men out. I knew that denying it would just get me thrown in jail. Jericho jails were not known for their luxury. So I told them that, yes, the men came to my house but that they had left and had already gone out the city gates. I told the guard that if they hurried they might be able to catch them.

The timing was perfect. The guards left the city and started searching and as soon as they had left, the city gates were shut so they could not come back in until morning.

I knew that these men were here to scout out our city in preparation for battle. I also knew that they would win. So did everyone else in the city. Everyone in town was freaking out and started to just accept whatever defeat would be coming. My people are a proud people and it was weird to see them lose heart like that. Whatever God these Israelites worshiped was truly mighty.

Before they fell asleep, I went to talk to the men. I told them the attitude of the men of the city including how upset they were about everything they have heard. I also told them how I respected and revered the LORD. I asked them if they could spare my life and the lives of my family when they destroyed the city.

These men spoke plainly to me. They said that if I didn't tell anybody of their plan or presence that they would surely save me. They told me to gather my family at my house and that if any of them were not in my house, they would die. They told me to hang a scarlet rope out of my window so the Israelites would know to protect us.

I gave my word.

I also told them what I told the guards and then suggested that they leave the city and wait until the guards came back before returning to their tribes. I lowered them out of my window which was on the wall. They made it out safely.

I did exactly what I said I would do. I gathered my family and hung a red rope out my window. Then I saw an army just walking around our city. They weren't trying to raze the walls or knock down the gates. They just walked with trumpets blowing. They did this for 6 days and then on the 7th, they just kept walking. I saw them walk by my window 7 times. After the 7th time, I heard a man talking to the people. I'm not quite sure what he said but I swear I heard my name. Then all of a sudden they all starting shouting. 

It was so loud! But it was nothing compared to the sound of the walls falling. FALLING! Those walls were so strong. No army had every conquered those walls and now they were falling. Half of my house was gone!

But all of us were safe. Somehow, with all the rubble and the crashing and the horrible noises, we were all safe! What a might God indeed.

Eventually, the two men that I had hid came and took my family and myself out of the city. Nothing stood. Everything was destroyed. What a mighty God indeed!

After that day, I stayed with the Israelites until my dying day. They became my people and their God became my God. I met a man named Salmon who was the son of the tribal leader of Judah. We got married and had kids. I am actually the great-great grandmother to King David.

That's right! THE King David! Eventually, the Savior of mankind would come from my line. The line of a harlot. 

What a mighty God indeed.

Weirdo Series: Noah's Wife

Currently in our youth group at Grace Fellowship, they are doing a series called, "Making the Bible Come Alive." Various adults have been portraying different characters in the Bible such as Ruth, Naomi, Mary Magdalene, Michael (the angel), and Peter. I volunteered to portray a character and doing so prompted an idea for me to write a series of "monologues" from the perspective of an Outsider. Below is part 1 of the Weirdo Series.

weird•o

ˈwi(ə)rdō/

Noun informal

1. a person whose behavior seems strange or eccentric.

2. an Outsider

I know you guys had been starving for rain but that you’ve been getting some good rain recently. Just imagine something with me. Imagine if it had never rained. Ever. Yeah. You don’t think people could survive like that? Well, let me tell you something, I was there. It wasn’t until I was old with grown children of my own that I had ever seen rain. Here let me tell you how it happened:

My name is…well, my name isn’t important…but you might recognize my husband’s name, Noah. When my husband was born his father said, “This one will bring us relief from the agonizing labor of our hands, caused by the ground the LORD has cursed.” Can you even imagine such a prophecy? If I had known that Lamech, that was my father-in-law, had said that about Noah, I might not have married him. That’s a lot of responsibility that I may not have wanted to be a part of. Little did I know.

One day, my husband comes to me and says that God had spoken to him. He said that God told him that He was going to destroy every creature on the earth because of their wickedness. What?! I thought that Noah was a good man and that all that praying and singing and stuff was what God wanted. I started to have a bit of a panic attack.

Well, as I was breathing into a little leather sack, Noah told me that God also commanded him to build a big ol’ boat because He was going to save our family. To which I responded, “What’s a boat?” Then Noah said that it was going to rain. To which I responded, “What’s rain?” Then Noah said that God was going to use the rain to flood the earth. To which I responded, “What’s a flood?” Noah explained that God made a covenant with him that He would save our family and a bunch of animals and plants…and only us.

Well, I knew better than to argue with God but I got a little nervous when I thought about how this was going to look to the neighbors. When I said a big ‘ol boat, I wasn’t kidding. Imagine this room times 12, and then a little more! That’s how long the boat was. Now take this room times 3, that’s how wide the boat was. And, and it was 3 stories high!!! This was not just some project boat in the backyard or basement that could be easily hidden under a tarp. No, this massive thing was out there in the open for everyone to see!! And everyone did see.

It became difficult to go to the grocery store or the fabric store because people would whisper about me as I passed. The braver ones would ask me questions which I could not answer. And people would make fun of Noah and what he was doing. Since He loved the LORD, everyone already thought he was a weirdo anyway, but then he started building a boat. I told them that he was doing what God told him to do and prepare for the big flood. To which they responded, “What’s a flood?” They called him a fool and said that he was crazy. The worst was the women who would look at me as though they felt sorry for me for having a crazy husband. People started comparing him to the man on the corner of Lexington and Vine named Henson who would randomly shout things like, “Chickens only want to rule the world” and “Shoes make good earmuffs.”

You don’t believe me? Well, I was there!

It was so hard. I believed in Noah’s God and trusted that we were doing the right thing but it became so difficult to live my day-to-day life and still do as God asked. One day Henson yelled at me, “There goes the wife of the crazy man!”

Seriously?! Well, God told us what to do and we were gonna do it!

My three boys had an easier time of it but not by much. People looked at them and said horrible things about their father. It got to a point that we all just had to stop going to town. My sons helped their father and the girls (my daughters-in-law) and I started gathering plants. Suddenly, one day animals just started showing up. They would just come up to our home as if they were looking for something. When Noah and the boys finished the boat, the animals just walked inside and started making themselves at home. We gathered up all our stuff and the plants that we gathered and got on the boat. The door was so big and heavy that God, Himself, has to close it.  And He did.

Then the most amazing thing happened! Water! Water started falling from the sky!! Crazy, right? It started to rain so hard that the whole earth flooded and we on the boat were the only ones saved.

In the days leading up to the flood, people called us weirdoes. Crazy, even. But God had a plan. Being a weirdo, an outsider, is what saved our lives and thus saved all mankind. At first, I didn’t like being made fun of, or treated differently, or called a weirdo. Now, I wear the title with pride.

I’m Noah’s wife and I’m a weirdo.

It's a little hazy

One of my biggest issues with being a counselor is the constant feeling by those in my real life (as in not my job) that I know all the answers or that I’m the best person to talk to in any given difficult situation. I know my profession is not the only one that has a hinky boundary line in people’s heads. However, people don’t expect the cashier at the grocery store to be constantly adding up what items cost in their normal life nor do they expect the administrative assistant to organize their calendar and make phone calls for them. However, I am constantly asked for advice and expected to address anyone in crisis. It doesn't help that people “refer” their friends and loved ones to come talk to me. I imagine that conversation involves the phrase, “You should talk to Denise because she’s a counselor.”

Sitting in my office, I have a switch I turn on in my head. It is my Counselor Switch. When I leave said office, I turn that switch off. It’s very similar to the mechanic who washes their hands after a long day of fixing cars who then walks into their house and hugs and kisses his wife. He is no longer in the let’s-fix-this-car mode. He’s in the this-is-my-family mode.

I struggle because the way I talk to my clients is vastly different than the way I talk to my friends. When I have a friend struggling, I may not be the best person for them to talk to but at that point I am not a counselor. I am simply a friend. An ill-equipped friend at that.

Like I said, I know I’m not the only profession that deals with this hazy boundary. His Royal Nerdness, my husband, gets asked computer questions constantly. I’m sure my nurse practitioner friend gets asked medical questions all the time. Because of my own experience with boundary crossing, I refuse to ask my friend any medical questions. The aforementioned mechanic probably gets tons of friends and acquaintances asking him about car issues.

When I’m not at work or in a counseling room, and I have a friend or acquaintance that wants some counsel, I have to take a moment and turn my switch back on. It’s not as easy as just flipping a switch. Turning that switch on and leaving it on for a while takes energy just like any light fixture that you turn on. It’s draining.

I can only imagine how Jesus felt. If I, as a counselor, am worn out sometimes by the blurred boundaries, then it must stand to reason that The Messiah had to get a bit worn. However, The Messiah is not really a role that one switches on and off.

I still giggle at the idea of Jesus trying to get some sleep and the disciples keep coming up to Him asking Him to turn their water into something more fortifying.