Bloggers

I've been spending a lot of time reading blogs this weekend in between writing lesson plans, making Kung Pao Chicken, Cornbread Souffle (recipe here), except I make a sweeter version by forgoing on the garlic and paprika and instead adding 2 tbs sugar and 2 tbs heavy whipping cream. I also cleaned up a bit...which means my living room is now livable again.

I watched Christmas Carol (the new Jim Carrey version with the animation like Polar Express). How many versions of this Dickens classic can we have? I don't know the answer to that, but I will confess that a tear did drop during Christmas Present's showing of the Cratchett family to Ebenezer. I cry all the time over the most sentimental things. The movie GrownUps was also on my TV some time yesterday while Tony was editing a wedding video from months ago and making the DVD menu for the edit. I barely watched it, but when I finished later that night, I realized one of my favorite Bing Crosby movies, Here Comes the Groom was now available to Watch Instantly. It's quite rare these days that I find a movie that I love enough that I quickly press the PLAY button instead of simply Add to Queue and then continuing to add thousands more...not literally, but I'm sure I have over 400 in my Queue and I can never make a definite decision on which I should actually watch.

All back to the blogs I've been reading. Of course, Tony and I read Todays Letters everyday. I also, thankfully, stumbled across the blog that is written by Stephanie Neilson, (click her name to see her story on youtube),a woman who has survived tragedy and continues to inspire. An hour on her blog, the Nie Nie Dialogues, today made me add her to my Bookmark Bar...

I was talking with Tony about Blogging and Writing this weekend, and as we looked over a few, and he said, "Man, babe, if we were going to have a blog, we'd really have to live." We chuckled for a bit and I said, I'd love to blog and write and hopefully I'll be in a position in life where I have a writer's room in our dream house and I have children, and cooking, and decorating, and volunteering to share with the world out there.

Watch this amazing video

Peanut Butter Pie II

This morning, I just needed a nice Sunday. That means I forwent on the formal morning and enjoyed some podcasts from Imago Dei while I made Peanut Butter Pie for the second time. I use this recipe only I use confectioner's sugar and not granulated. I put it in the freezer. Then Tony and I had some time this afternoon and munched on left overs from our dinner last night @ Yokozuna. It was our first time there last night and we LOVED it. Eventually, we decided on a movie and started watching The Interpreter which I'd never seen. In the middle of the film, we grabbed the pie out of the freezer and headed over to Jacarriah's house for a little double (sort of triple)-date action.

I can't express what it's like to be in a relationship that's recently turned a year old and still be falling madly, deeply, truly in love with that person on an every day basis. It's indescribable.

Just Because

It's currently 1:22am in Jersey on Friday, July 9th.

I'm laying forward in my old twin bed from high school in my Mama's house. The story of my "bedding" situation is actually quite interesting. My first "big girl" bed was a simple twin mattress on a box spring which lasted me until the 9th grade. The summer before 10th grade, I was spending a week in Ocean City with my friend Traci H. and my dad's family. I returned to find that my mother and older cousin, who was living with us at the time, had gone into my room to find some ants crawling on the window sill and in my bed. The decided by what fashion I've no idea to literally throw the entire bed away (granted, at that point it was at least ten years old). I returned to a room that was furnished with an old dresser that my parents had picked up from the side of the road when I was a little girl which my father had re-painted white in our humid garage. All of the knobs and handles were absent from the dresser when it was found, so my parents decided to grab some neon colored shoe strings and pull them through the holes and tie knots in them to "secure" them so that I could open the drawers. The paint was so thick on the entire piece that it never dried the right way and getting to any article of clothing always posed a challenge. Suffice it to say that only that dresser and a bookshelf of some sorts which held various music boxes I seemed to have collected in childhood filled my room.

For the next two years, I spent my nights on the floor. I didn't think much of it, except my mother and cousin had thrown the bed away and it simply hadn't been replaced.

Some time during my junior year at LCA, I must've gone on a youth retreat. When I returned my mother showed me a twin mattress and metal stand for it. That is what has been the only sitting/laying furniture in my room for the duration of these last 9 years. All that time later and the bed seems even harder than it was when I first received it. I had always kept my bed in the farthest corner of my room, right up against the wall. It made it easier to pretend that I was surrounded by something. However, since my life has apparently moved on and I no longer reside at my Mama's house in Jersey for longer than two week stints a couple of times a year, my younger brother has begun to take it over. I returned this summer to a room full of "stuff." My bed has been cast into the center of the room, since m y beloved corner is now being inhabited by my Phanatic brother's Phillies paraphernalia. Here I am, on my last night in Jersey, surrounded by weirdly shaped lamps (does Timothy have a thing for them?), old CD racks, books, abandoned gadgets and gifts, an artist desk, office chair, and suitcase that looks as though it had thrown up all over the floor. I have the ceiling fan going as well as a large box-style fan right next to the bed to compensate for our AC not working upstairs. Our downstairs pumps away trying to get to the set temperature of 59 F.

I'm not sure that this post had much poignancy or meaning, other than me being awake this late on the eve before I fly back to Tulsa hoping that my man's MacBook charger wasn't really broken and somehow these sounds that Skype makes when users sign on (which can only be described as a "bubbling" noise) would be him... Sadly it is not my Chunky Monster and I will have to wait until he gets off of work tomorrow night to see him.

Grieving God.

Grieving God.

IN my ongoing study on “pain,” I decided to use the lexicons at Crosswalk.com to help me in better understanding the term and its place in scripture. After sorting through several different Hebrew words used in the Old Testament for the experience, I landed on one I want to highlight. The Hebrew word is bc[, pronounced “aw-tsab',” is the one that really caught my attention, especially as it appears in Psalm 78.

Definition

1. to hurt, pain, grieve, displease, vex, wrest a. (Qal) to hurt, pain b. (Niphal) to be in pain, be pained, be grieved c. (Piel) to vex, torture d. (Hiphil) to cause pain e. (Hithpael) to feel grieved, be vexed 2. to shape, fashion, make, form, stretch into shape, (TWOT) worship a. (Piel) to shape, form b. (Hiphil) to form, copy, fashion

I was so captivated by the verse that this particular word showed up in that I took a deeper look at the entire Psalm, which is one of the longer ones in this Book. I wanted to share my feelings at 2:00am of what I was thinking as I read this chapter…

1 A psalm of Asaph. O my people, listen to my teaching. Open your ears to what I am saying, 2 for I will speak to you in a parable. I will teach you hidden lessons from our past -- 3 stories we have heard and know, stories our ancestors handed down to us. 4 We will not hide these truths from our children but will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the LORD. We will tell of his power and the mighty miracles he did. 5 For he issued his decree to Jacob; he gave his law to Israel. He commanded our ancestors to teach them to their children, 6 so the next generation might know them -- even the children not yet born -- that they in turn might teach their children.

Immediately I know I need to really pay attention to the heart of what this writer is trying to convey to his listeners/readers. He’s attempting to give the people a “hidden” message, to tell them “hidden” lessons from the past. He says his audience has heard these stories before, that these tales have been passed down, I know this shouldn’t be anything new to the hearers of this message, but apparently Asaph feels like they need a reminder. He has decided it is their duty to pass these truths onto the next generation. It is a commission of the Lord for the ancestors to inform the young of the marvelous deeds and works of God. It is then each specific age group’s duty to pass along the same wisdom and knowledge so that the stories that expose the glory of the LORD will never be forgotten. Looking back over my short life, I have often felt cheated as an adolescent, teen, and even young adult. Cheated by the elders in my various “communities” who don’t see their history and experience with the Lord as something to be shared and instilled in the younger generation. I have been disappointed by the generations ahead of me for not knowing how to bond or make an impact with the young people of their time and therefore building a wall of criticism, fear, and angst that continues to separate age groups. The Kingdom of God is not intended to be of “one age” or “one style” or “one experience.” The Kingdom was meant to be ever-continuing, so that when one era of worshippers passes on, another arises. The lack of real, genuine, authentic Christian adults in my (and I’m sure many of your) young life highly attributed to different situations I found myself in as a teen and young adult (am I still a young adult at 25?).

7 So each generation can set its hope anew on God, remembering his glorious miracles and obeying his commands. 8 Then they will not be like their ancestors -- stubborn, rebellious, and unfaithful, refusing to give their hearts to God.

The goal of passing faith onto the next generation is so that they in turn can also find their own faith, to set their hope anew on God. So that they can hold onto the victories that were won for the generation preceding them and realize that same LORD was before them as well. Then there is the admonishment to NOT be like their ancestors who were “stubborn, rebellious, and unfaithful” who “refus[ed] to give their hearts to God.” We know the ancestors that Asaph is referring to would be those coming first after Abraham, most likely the lineage of Abraham until his family became a people enslaved by the Egyptians. We know these people were of the first to be called by His Name, the first to be His chosen people. Yet they were a bunch of complaining, greedy, doubtful, idolatrous people who frequently suffered from amnesia concerning the works of the LORD. The goal of instructing the next generation is to avoid these kind of heart issues with them. I wonder how much better we’ve gotten since our spiritual ancestors of the wilderness?

9 The warriors of Ephraim, though fully armed, turned their backs and fled when the day of battle came.

I had to comment on this verse alone. Wow. These men are called “warriors.” These men were known to be “fully armed.” [New American Standard Version reads: 9 The sons of Ephraim were archers equipped with bows, Yet they turned back in the day of battle.] Yet they ran away. They turned their backs, perhaps on their brothers who stayed to fight when the battle—the thing they had been trained for—came upon them. After researching the name “Ephraim,” I found two interesting websites. The first here, and the second here. Either way, there is a people clearly trained and seemingly prepared to handle combat that runs away when faced with the reality of their purpose.

Woah.

These people were known for having bows, for being ready for action, ready to fight. Yet they run away, they act like cowards, like an inept group who can’t handle the actions they’ve been groomed to perform. Looking at my life now, are there actions, duties, missions even that I have been given training to accomplish, but when faced with the reality of completing those tasks—turned away? Is there a purpose you’ve felt at some moment in your life, perhaps even a fleeting one, that when called upon to step into, you looked the other way and just went back “home”?

*Insert long probing meditation*

10 They did not keep God's covenant, and they refused to live by his law. 11 They forgot what he had done -- the wonderful miracles he had shown them, 12 the miracles he did for their ancestors in Egypt, on the plain of Zoan. 13 For he divided the sea before them and led them through! The water stood up like walls beside them! 14 In the daytime he led them by a cloud, and at night by a pillar of fire. 15 He split open the rocks in the wilderness to give them plenty of water, as from a gushing spring. 16 He made streams pour from the rock, making the waters flow down like a river! 17 Yet they kept on with their sin, rebelling against the Most High in the desert.

We see that the Ephraimites, the famed warriors of the their day are remembered as turning back; Matthew Henry believes the psalmist is referring to the situation where the Ark of the Covenant was stolen by the Philistines and Ephraim turned back from recovering it in battle. This coincided with the verses above. These forgetful “warriors” were in sin; they had let an enemy steal the “home” of the Spirit of their God and ours. They did not “live by His law,” and they were afflicted heavily with spiritual amnesia. Verse 11 seems to show us that the root of Christian disobedience is forgetfulness. Either forgetfulness of what the LORD has personally done in each Christian’s life through the work of His Son and Spirit, whether it be a personal healing of body, mind, emotions, etc, or a financial blessing, or the salvation of a dearly loved family member, etc, God has done something for every individual. Either the Believer has forgotten all those miracles or he has forgotten the actual work of Christ at the Cross and all that was paid for the redemption of our souls. Let me be more personal: Anytime I sin in my life, I must’ve forgotten all the wonderful, some even unspeakable things that Christ has done for me personally and I’ve in turn probably also forgotten the marvelous grandeur of an all-powerful God putting on vulnerable flesh so that I may be made whole. This is why we sin. If we could only turn our face toward Christ, keep our eyes upon Jesus, perhaps like the old hymn goes, “things of this world would grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.”

He reminds the people of the works the did for them as they escaped from their Egyptian captors. One would think these acts could never be forgotten, but apparently they were. We know from other passages of scripture that the LORD Himself parted the sea. He caused the people of Israel to walk through, the gave them courage to do this, though the walls of water perhaps overshadowed their heads. He guided His people step-by-step in the wilderness. He appeared as a cloud during the day, which not only gave them something to follow, but probably eased the terrible heat of the desert upon them. He then came to them as a pillar of fire at night, which perhaps gave them heat during the night or at least did not let the night be too frightful for them and scared off any wild beasts. He is always giving heart and help to His people. I feel like shouting out as I’m writing this, “He cares! He cares!” [It’s also passed 3am at this point and I don’t feel any signs of crashing yet, so that may be adding to my excitement.] And instead of opening the windows of heaven and allowing the Hebrews to collect rain for drink, he produces a way for them to receive water in a dry place—from a rock. He did not make them wait to collect water from his rain, but broke open a hard object to reveal a river, a gushing, flowing river to quench their thirst. Out of the depths, He released a stream for His people. Perhaps there are moments in our lives when we are “thirsty” in need of something to refresh us, sustain us…and He allows us to walk a little longer, to wait a little longer. Perhaps the wait is for the opportunity to open a gushing blessing into our lives, to make us know the worth of His mercy.

Verse 17 is perhaps the most disheartening so far, even these specific people, not the ones who are hearing the stories centuries later, but the actual Hebrews in the desert who were saved by the actual visible hand of God, these people yet rebelled in the face of He who had done so much for them.

*To be continued tomorrow…

Visioneers. A Look Within.

So I’ve been on this pain (& suffering) kick lately, if you’ve read my last two posts, you’re aware of my “plan” for this summer. Really I felt like it was necessary to invoke a focus or “journey” mentality for these next two months, or else they would just be one extremely long weekend with no meaning, perhaps even no justification. I am still “working”…making powerpoints and the like for this upcoming fall and I have some books to read and re-read that I want to do this year with my classes. However, I know myself, like I’ve said before, and I could see myself sleeping in eighty percent of the summer, perhaps only getting out a couple of days a week, not even knowing what day of the week it was.

I watched a movie last night called Visioneers starring Zach Galifianakis and Judy Greer. I have had Netflix for about two months or so now and ever since I got wireless Internet at my apartment, I have been enjoying their Watch Instantly films, TV shows, and documentaries. When I first got the Internet, I just looked for things I’d already seen or knew I’d like and enjoyed them. Then for a week or two I was on a serious documentary tip and would watch two or three in a row and become half-impassioned on a topic that I’m normally not that concerned about. Lately though, the choices presented on the Netflix website have appeared increasingly overwhelming. I would have never thought of myself as a movie connoisseur before going to China. While living in the teacher’s dormitories, I happen to be the only American with a TV present in my bedroom and being the only female American on campus the second semester, I tended to spend a lot of time there. I borrowed my friend Hannah’s movie collection and over the two month winter holiday, I watched every single film she owned at least once (including High School Musical 1 & 2, yes they were on the “only watched once” list, but I’m admitting that I’ve seen them). This may have sounded weird of me to watch so many films (maybe thirty or so in her DVD case) over a small period of time. Winter in QinHuangDao happens to be very cold, windy, icy, and all around unpleasant if you enjoy doing something other than staying in your room. Therefore, I, being the only soul on campus for at least two weeks of the time (literally the only soul…all teachers—including foreign had gone home or were traveling as well as all the students), had an extensive amount of time to myself. After watching these thirty or so said movies, which ranged from the aforementioned High School Musical, to foreign films like Amélie (which was watched at least four times), to probably unknown movies like Before Sunrise with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delphy and the follow-up years later Before Sunset, to musicals like Rent, I found myself really dissecting films and being able to talk about why they really moved me or perhaps just brushed by me. I found myself affected by the lighting, the editing, the detail of the cinematographer’s eye, the soundtrack, the moments of silence, the parts of the film that perhaps were not picked up on my radar consciously before. Now a year and a half later after that bitter winter in the HeBei province of northern China, I feel quite able to at least talk about films and have seen much more than I had before then.

Having said all of that, Visioneers (trailer here) was quite moving. I’m glad I actually sat through it, but after watching Galifianakis Live at the Purple Onion, I am willing to watch anything with him from beginning to end, reserving any judgment. Anyway, I have started this habit of watching a couple minutes of a movie from Netflix’s Watch Instantly and then deciding there’s probably a better one in the myriad of film options on the website and hit the Back to Browsing button only to be utterly indecisive amid the overwhelming variety of options. I watched the trailer to Visioneers, and read a couple reviews regarding it on the IMDB and decided it was worth my evening.

The plot can be read on Wikipedia or the IMDB, I won’t go into great detail, except to say that it is a depiction of a entropic society (some would argue dystopian). Galifianakis works as a Level 3 “Tunt” in the best working system since the history of mankind. The world they live in is doing all they can to “work together,” be successful, and most importantly, be happy. His wife, Greer, spends her days watching the ultimate New Agey female guru named Sahra on TV. Sahra is constantly telling her viewers how to be happy and introduces an author to promote her book, 10,000 Things to Be Happy About, which Greer immediately buys. Their “great land” is finding it increasingly more difficult to choose happiness amidst a world that is failing, that is fallen, that is flawed. They are commanded as a society not to dream, not to allow pain in their lives, not to do anything but aid themselves in coasting along in life. Anyone who realizes they cannot buy into this mantra and can no longer take the disparity between this happy reality they are literally commanded to have and the existence they are truly living, which is at best numbing its pain and filling the void by ignoring it, literally “explodes” (think massive, exploding, premature heart attack). To defend its citizens against these “explosions” the president of the US commands that all citizens in danger of exploding be fit with an “Inhibitor” which flushes out any painful, frustrating, basically negative feelings and replaces them with happy ones. At one point, the music radio station that Galifianakis listens to on his way home from work announces that they are no longer going to be able to play music, but will only be doing comedy shows once he is fitted with his “Inhibitor.” The DJ also reluctantly advises any who feel in danger of “exploding” to go to the Undeveloped Areas where there will be dancing, alcohol, and women in bikinis. Again, this movie shows through Galifianakis’s deadpan delivery the utter failure of trying to numb, assuage, or kill a person’s pain or true needs. There is even a small window into a culture of “hippie-ish” people who rebel against the “Inhibitor” placement and working altogether to gather and dance and be happy outside in their own way; this way of thinking is also pictured as having flaws…simply numbing the pain in a more perhaps loving, cooperative, accepted sort of way. There were more than two poignant moments in the story for me, but the first I won’t take time to explain other than Galifianakis and his wife finally get on the same page and show real expression of their dissatisfaction with their society which leads them to “wreck” their kitchen. The second was where Galifianakis was approached by the head of his company who saw something in him and he wanted to help him relieve his pain. He writes something on a card and tells Galifianakis if he follows this directive, he would never have dreams or pain again in his life. [**Spoiler Alert**] The card simply reads, “KILL THE THING YOU LOVE.” I won’t say anything further regarding the movie, but if you can handle silence, slow-paced films that reward you at the finish, this is a must-see.

The fact that this society was told not to dream or feel pain interests me. I know the dreams I have had throughout this quarter of a century that I’ve been alive. I know the dreams that have died perhaps and passed on into just memory to classify a certain season of my life. (“Oh yeah, back in my Freshman year at ORU, I used to really want to do ‘xyz’ with my life, but now I don’t think about that much anymore”). I know the dreams that have lain dormant within me for what seems like a decade waiting for a “moment” to come where they might burst into life and take me over finally to press me onto a real “purpose.” I know there are dreams I excuse as flippant because they don’t seem very likely. I also know the terrible secret of my reality that I rarely have thought about dreams in the last three years and have seen some fade away, seemingly into the mist of the dark alleys of the roadways of my heart. Is this also a byproduct of me numbing something—numbing feeling, numbing frustration, numbing desire… Am I subconsciously allowing dreams to die or fade away in an effort to remain happy, to remain unscathed by living in a disappointing world, full of broken promises, unmet expectations, weak people, and despicable me?

This Week...

So, I posted the last blog entry on Monday afternoon, while I was waiting to know the plans we'd have for Memorial Day. Can I be honest and say that by Tuesday morning, I regretted that post immensely. I removed the link from my facebook status and seriously considered taking down the post entirely from blogger. Oh, I'm so dramatic. I even told Tony on Tuesday evening that I wanted to remove the post. He cracked up immediately, which is one of the reasons we get along so well--he thinks I'm hilarious. He said that that idea of taking down the evidence of an inspiring moment was crazy and I needed to hold on to that and let it continue to move me. [I lamented not just taking on the task of simply writing in the blog everyday, you know random tidbits, or even making myself read a book a week or something]...

Since then, I've gone a day without caffeine, which thankfully was not as terrible as I expected. No serious headaches to battle, no lethargy. My plans and days were a little disrupted yesterday. I set out to meet some girls for lunch over in Jenks, but our wires got crossed and due to my almost total neglect of my cell phone for the past six months, I left it at home. Thus, I missed many texts and calls to re-schedule... On my way back to my apartment to pick up my flash drive to as to ensure that all my files that I created for this last year of English could be saved for use again the in fall, my car started making a scary, terrible noise. I completely freaked out, but gratefully was less than a mile from Silver Sands... At first I thought I had a flat tire, but after further inspection realized that was not the case. To make a long story short, the belt under the hood (sorry, that's as good as I can explain, I'm not car savvy), was almost completely shredded. PTL, I made an appointment with Midas and by 11:30am this morning they'd completely repaired it.

Have I continued to think about Pain? Yes. I have even added suffering to the mix which has already broadened by vision of the subject. I am a firm believer in suffering as a part of the maturing process for humans. Hebrews 2:10 is actually one of my favorite verses:

Hebrews 2:10-11 (New International Version)

¹⁰In bringing many sons to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the author of their salvation perfect through suffering. ¹¹Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers.

I have loved knowing throughout reading the Bible that the word PERFECT does not mean in the original language what we take it to mean in our culture. There is an interesting discourse on the topic here. To sum it up, this writer believes that the word perfect does not entirely mean without flaw or error, but more importantly--mature, healthy, or complete. The article also talks about being "perfected in love"...which he simply explains as humans being governed by the grace and love of God and not be selfish desires.

Matthew 5:48 (New International Version)

⁴⁸Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

This concept makes this previous verse much easier to acknowledge and hide in our hearts.

Anyway,

LOL, I'm going to edit this post tomorrow, I'm getting to distracted to do it justice :)

Summer of Pain.

Since it has been over a year since I posted a blog, and that last post being written in China, I feel it is more than overdue that I write something productive enough to be shared.

For those of you who are not in the know, I am a teacher, more specifically this last year I was a ninth grade English teacher. I get paid a salary, there's no clock to punch in, no time card to sign. I'm there every weekday from at least 7:30-3:30, longer if I have a lot of grading to do (which is almost every other day, English is a paper/project/worksheet/homework subject). I also stay longer to lesson plan, see students, parents, or faculty meetings, not to mention any planning or work I do when I get home. Teaching is not a job you can "leave at the office." A friend asked when I was telling them how many times I stay at work late or grade on the weekends if I get paid "overtime." I just laughed politely and said no. I do, however, know that there is one huge perk that comes from not being paid overtime and that is...Summers. Starting last Thursday, I now have off until August 7th...and I still get paid. Somehow all those long afternoons/evenings in my empty classroom or apartment seem more than worth it.

For the two years I taught in New Jersey, I worked a semi-part-time job during the summers (and during my last year of teaching there as well). Even though I collected a paycheck over the summer, it was nice to have even more "pocket money" to travel or do what I wanted. I have opted not to have a job this summer since I'm going home in June for a while and didn't know of any job that would let me work for a couple days a week for like 2 1/2 weeks, then leave and do that again a couple weeks later...

Having said all of that, I have now laid the groundwork for why I'm writing today and hopefully the rest of the summer. I promise future blogs will not be this logistic/banal.

I was walking on Riverside the other day, having just bought a fresh pair of Nike sneakers (yes, people from Jersey regularly say, "sneakers"). Tony and I decided to walk from Riverside and 41st in the north direction over the bridge around 26th or so and to keep going until we could cross the other bridge to turn around and walk back. I know that is at least four miles, and the blister that is still currently healing on my ankle (my fault for not making sure my sock was all the way up, not the shoe's) has been telling me it must've been longer. Those of you who know me or at least have a keen sense of observation know that I'm not a fan of exercise. I don't like to put a strain on my body, I don't like to sweat, I don't like to physically work I guess. While I was walking and enjoying the sunlight and all around beautiful weather, I started thinking about the root of this aversion to physical exercise.

I'll spare you the detailed map my mind traveled in order to get to the point I'm laboriously trying to get to. Finally my thoughts landed on this: the idea of Pain. I'm completely of the mind that Pain is an enemy that must be avoided at all costs; at least I've apparently felt that way my whole life. Then my mind started whirling around all these images and conversations in my life when Pain seemed to be shown or expressed as something else, perhaps not a certain enemy. I started seeing (forgive the randomness of examples I'm about to give) ballerinas, having just experienced a long practice, pulling out bloodied, delicate feet from their pedinis. I then remembered a conversation that I was merely a listener of when I was about seventeen. I was at a friend's house, her young husband was talking about lifting weights. I was the only female present in the company of all these young guys who were looking to the husband for expert-muscle-building advice. He was telling them all that he'd been lifting for a while and that it had been hard for him at first. He said that he'd found himself getting to a place where it was just to hard to keep lifting, but that he'd found if he yelled loudly or engaged himself fully in what he was doing--only keeping in mind the building of his body--he could keep lifting and working through the pain. He had taken a journey in his mind where he crossed some kind of river of pain or feeling and come out on the other side a little above the idea of physical pain and decided he and his body could stand to take it.

These two thoughts were important to me and obviously stuck out. I kept thinking about the ballerina's bloodied feet, and felt confused. I guess I had always been of the notion that if there was something you were "called" or "meant" to do that it would not cause that much stress or pain. (Now, I know some of you may not have had that thought before, ever, but just go with me). I thought, why would the ballerina do something that perhaps hurt him/her constantly. Yes, they're beautiful to watch (and I had just been to see Burana Carmina at the Tulsa PAC recently and it was magnificent), but what a price to pay to perform like that. His/Her desire to dance overriding their aversion to Pain was interesting to me. I always thought if something was hard or painful, why should we do it. Shouldn't life, our jobs, relationships come easily to us? Shouldn't everything I do feel natural, not contrived? I have always been a big believer in following whatever felt most natural for me to do...and I feel it has gone all right for me in a lot of areas. I have shied away from ideas perhaps even dreams if I thought the "work" or "pain" that would be involved didn't suit me.

Then I kept thinking about my friend's husband yelling out loudly as he's lifting and walking away from the bench and weights feeling really mighty or something. I don't know if I've ever felt "mighty," and if I did if it was it deservedly so? I wondered what having that kind of feeling reproduced a couple times a week would do for a person... Would they start seeing the world differently, thinking they'd combatted an "enemy" like Pain that people like me avoid like the plague and come out on the "other side?"

This all got me looking into Pain as a real topic, you know, I wikipedia-ed it, and googled it, and read some articles and am planning on reading The Problem of Pain by Lewis again this summer. All this research birthed lots of other questions within me regarding the purpose of pain in our lives. Is there good and bad pain? Should it be run from as I have done most of my life? What should our reaction to pain be in our lives and the lives of those around us? I hope to really contemplate all these and other issues that arise from this subject over the next two months and somehow share this Summer journey with anyone that cares to read. I hope to soon begin to make myself do something I naturally deem "painful" at least five times a week (it could be a physical pain, emotional pain, spiritual pain, financial pain, etc.)

When I was at ORU, an administrator from the Education Department came in to speak to one of my classes during my freshman year. She said that she really admired athletes. She said in her mind that athletes had to be some of the most determined, focused, driven, organized people she knew--especially ones that stayed in school and received college degrees. I am unsure of how I want to respond to that from a personal standpoint, but I do however, acquiesce to acknowledging that to get up for practice around 6am, take a full load of classes, complete homework individually, compete in a competition or game and carry around whatever other responsibilities a school athlete has with honor and respect is something to be admired. I'd be lying if I didn't let on that I have high hopes for my summer experiment with Pain. I do, I have visions of me working out all the time, eating nothing but nutritious meals and snacks, only drinking water, waking up early, reading a book every week, writing long, sincere apology letters or acceptance of apology letters...basically training myself to embrace pain and becoming this amazing woman in two months. I do however, like most of you hopefully do, know myself--very intimately--and am trying to balance out that vision of a Mighty Me with reality.

I do hope that when you see this blog update or the link on my facebook status that you'll click, read, laugh at my ignorance, and join me in this Summer of Pain.