Sunday, January 23, 2011

Mr. Hamilton was Asian?

Every Sunday I have brunch with my dad at Jenny's resturant. Most of the staff knows what we want without us even ordering (we are both creatures of habit, with little variation). This morning, a surprisingly tall Asian man comes in with his 2 young incredibly adorable boys, ages 3 and 2 (we found out later). The 3 year old was pumped full of energy and talking juice. From the moment they walked in he was going. "Daddy... I don't wanna sit there... I don't wanna sit there daddy!" Daddy had that parental look of simply enduring the endless attempts for his attention and responding as only necessary. Perhaps with that look of wondering when its mommy's turn again. Coming back from the bathroom he "Giddy up!'s" his way back to the table.

They finish eating and little boy is making a show of how he can put his hat on all by himself.
Dad hands boy the bill and asks how much it is while he digs out his wallet. Little boy jumps up and says "$28 Daddy." His dad, knowing better, hands him a $20 bill. Little boy, "Look daddy. Look at how I am holding it." As he shows his dad that he has the $20 and the bill held between his thumb and index finger. Daddy nods while trying to get coat on little brother and his own gloves and coat.

So.... then....

Little boy looks at the money and says, "Daddy, this picture kinda looks like you."

Dad breaks out in a grin (as do the rest of us around them) and says, "Yeah. Kinda."

Alexander Hamilton was Asian. Who knew?

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

An Incredible Machine

Blue is my favorite color (which shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone) but perhaps it should be black and blue. On any given day you can generally find a handful of bruises somewhere on me, most of which I have no idea how I got them. What I often don’t show are the bruised and broken places on the inside. Most of those… I know how I got them. I usually inflict them on myself in one way or another. I’m a sucker for self-torture and self-sabotage.

I wish I were different. I am working on being different, but I haven’t been completely transformed yet. I’m pretty sure God has me in the LOTS OF WORK TO BE DONE pile. Yet, I know He hasn’t given up on me. Finding my way out of one extreme and not swinging to the other hasn’t been mastered yet. Finding the balance in the middle takes me a long time. Things that take a long time get easily frustrating and often left behind.

I’ve made some unwise choices lately; choices that have changed me and distanced me from God. Maybe it’s fairer to say I allowed myself to be distant and as a result my heart was deceived into believing a pack of lies, even though my head knew better. I wish I could say I was sorry for those choices, but for now I am not. I am only sorry for the fallout. I am sorry for putting someone I love deeply in an impossible middle. And for myself knowing that no matter what I am the one who loses out on the most.

If you dig a hole so deep and then willingly jump right in, pulling anyone around you down with you, is it possible to climb out and move forward without that gaping hole always between you?

I’ve held something close to my heart for many months now. Its permanent home was there, resting its weight above a beating heart that sang, “I’m loved. I’m loved. I’m loved.” Yesterday, I sacrificially removed it for a time. I thought it was a small symbolic gesture. I wasn’t prepared for feeling like there was a hole in my chest that anyone looking could see right through. A cold emptiness emanating from a heart beating “I hurt. I hurt. I hurt.”

A heart that beats, an Incredible Machine
Made of blood and love and hope and lust and steam
(Sugarland - Incredible Machine)

It’s a reminder of how dangerous love is both in its power for joy and sorrow. Open yourself up to it and creates unlimited space to be filled and abundance to pour out. But at times, the emptiness of that limitless space feels like death. What then? When the love feels dark and lost and the silence and space threaten to swallow you, what then? How do you wait in that space calling to God without losing faith? These are the questions I am asking.

This is the place my heart is wrestling, wondering how severe the limp I am left with will be this time.

And… I'm not leaving until I get the blessing.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

2011 The Year of ???

Last year for the first time I decided to give the upcoming year a name. Something to focus on, to strive for, a prayer asking God to fulfill. As you know 2010 was the year of So Much More. It was "more" in so many ways, more love, more tears, more friends, and more challenges and more opportunities. It was a year I will never forget, a year that changed me dramatically.

Now the new year is here and I have been thinking about what this year could be for me. Many bloggers are defining the year with one word. In talking with my friend she suggested that my word for 2011 should be VICTORY.



Immediately I balked at this idea. Me.... victory?

Victory can be defined as success in a struggle against difficulties or an obstacle. It means you win after you fight. I'm not one of those people who win, unless its Jeopardy on the computer. I didn't win at sports or spelling bees. I never won French bingo. I don't win give-aways. Once I won a doll playing roulette at a fair, but I think they might have been bribed to give it to me... not sure... but I digress. You get the point. And the obstables in my life don't seem to be going away. Yeah. Add to that a lack of that grit and soul that drives people to do things like the Iron Man or climbing Mt. Everest. So when I thought about victory as my word, it seemed to be the opposite of what I would choose.

How about something light and fluffy like happy, or love or even dreams? Victory... that means a battle to fight. Determination to overcome. And much opportunity to fail and falter. Something like running a marathon - exhausted but knowing you are determined to cross that finish line or die trying. Maybe I should just run the 26.2 and claim that as my victory and not worry about the rest of the year.

The more I've thought about it and that word, the more I think it's a word I need to embrace, to challenge myself with. If I don't believe I can overcome, I never will. And believe me... I have a lot to overcome. If I fall, I can remind myself I am striving for victory and it will encourage me to get back up and try again. Victory doesn't mean I never stumble. You aren't disqualified from the race for falling or walking. All that matters is crossing the finish line.

At the finish line of 2011 I will celebrate all the victories great and small.

I will be a warrior and a winner. VICTORY is mine.

Christmas in Canada

My vacation is over. (insert appropraite groans and whines) but the 2 weeks were filled with much love, laughter, Christmas spirit, and child-like anticipation. Just what the doctor ordered. I was beyond spoiled in ways I have been since I was little. While it was a little uncomfortable at first, I think I could get used to it ;)

My favorite moments were probably at the gym... being able to inflict the same hope, inspiration and pain that were inflicted on me several years ago, while still making it fun. We definitely provided entertainment for the other gym patrons.

Here are a smattering of other moments...

Decorating the tree or myself?...not sure yet

Rooted in love
(doesn't my friend look AMAZING!?!)

She even had a stocking for me - blue even :)

Jillian and I (with some help from Brandon) did
the gingerbread house. I think my parts were the
worst actually. Decorating isn't in my future.

Side hiding the sad attempt I made

Ginger... sleepy dog on Christmas morning

My bestie and I

My Jots.... your hoodie looks familiar

Don't forget to check out the best photos over here

And now the year 2010 is over and it was most certainly for me.... a year of so much more.

Onto 2011 whatever it may bring.