Kicking Ninja: Defender of Fun

Thanks to my good friend Sarah, I have wiled away my time this afternoon making myself into a superhero at The Hero Factory. Alas, everyone needs a good distraction every now and then. Call me Kicking Ninja: Defender of Fun.

I'd like to pass along the corruption. Go here to make yourself into a superhero. Goodness knows this world could use some saving.

Kissing the car goodbye

Drum roll please...

I have made my decision. As of midnight Ash Wednesday, I'm hoofing (or wheeling) it. After much consideration, I've decided the item I'm giving up for Lent is my car. I'm doing this for a few reasons:

* One, the money I save by not putting so much gas into the beast can be given to charity, which, I discovered in my Lenten research, is part of the idea behind fasting.

* Two, I love to pray while I walk. If I have to walk (or pedal) more places and longer distances, I will be in a position to spend more time communing with my Father, which, I discovered in my Lenten research, is another big idea behind fasting.

For the first time in my life, I have committed to an item to give up for Lent. And truth be told, I'm quite excited. I can't wait to see what God and I talk about. I can't wait to see how He will work when I devote myself to faithful prayer.

I will keep you posted. Also, I invite you to post a comment on this blog entry with prayer requests. I would be honored to remember you on my treks around town these next 40 days. Have a blessed season of Lent, everyone.

Post Script: I must note, in case any in town are watching my every footstep, that I will have to use my car for work purposes. I'm working for the Census Bureau, and official policy states I need a car to complete my duties. Apart from official work use, however, there will be no windshield time for me.

Lending thought to Lent

I've been thinking about Lent.
Several friends and I got into a discussion recently about what vice we would give up this year. One said all sugar, even juice. One said desserts. One said he gave up blogging once. I said, "I've never done Lent. I spend weeks trying to figure out what I'd like to give up and can't commit to any one thing, so I always end up just not doing it."
Coffee? Don't want the headache.
Dessert? But it's soooo good.
Facebook? That's how I stay connected.
How lame. There is an excuse for everything. Either that, or everything seems too small to claim as a sacrifice for the sake of knowing God in a richer way. Also, when it comes right down to it, I just don't get Lent. I didn't grow up Catholic or Lutheran, so the practice has always seemed...mysterious.
Yet, it draws me every year.
And so, I turn to someone much, much wiser than I for answers. Andrew Murray was a South African preacher, writer and man of prayer. I found his book, "With Christ in the School of Prayer," on my folks' book shelf. In the book, I think I've found a reason for Lent.
In a chapter about prayer and fasting, which is what I think Lent essentially is, Murray writes:

"It is in the dying to self which much prayer implies, in closer union to Jesus, that the spirit of faith will come in power. Faith needs prayer for its full growth. And prayer needs fasting for its full growth. ... Prayer is the one hand with which we grasp the invisible; fasting, the other, with which we let loose and cast away the visible. ... We are creatures of the senses: our mind is helped by what comes to us embodied in concrete form; fasting helps to express, to deepen, and to confirm the resolution that we are ready to sacrifice anything, to sacrifice ourselves, to attain what we seek for the kingdom of God."

I want that. If I look at Lent as a time to "cast away the visible" that I may "grasp the invisible," I think I can do it. I want to express and deepen my resolution to sacrifice anything -- even myself -- to seek God's glory.
Still the question remains: what do I give up in order to give God my all?
I'll have to get back to you on that.

Country roads, take me home

I went for a walk on some country roads north of town last weekend. Nothing like clean air and sunshine to purify mind and soul. I took a few snapshots along the way.

Into the deep

I asked my Lord a while back to give me His love for humanity.

Soon after...

My pastor preached a sermon I did not like. It made me angry. I told everyone who would listen why it bothered me -- except him.

I had to play bass guitar on the worship team with a man who insulted my dad in the past. I realized I'd never forgiven him -- and still didn't want to.

Several friends wanted to chat on the internet one night. I was tired and busy and became annoyed -- but did it grudgingly.

Everyone I knew, it seemed, started posting "25 random things" about themselves on Facebook. I did it too -- to get everyone to stop bugging me to write a list.

I slid into one of my funks. I felt alone. I felt stuck. I felt the emotions -- the sense of rejection, the confusion, the sadness -- were silly. But they were real.

I asked my Lord to give me His love.

Soon after...

My pastor told me how much he appreciated me, my faithful attendance at church, my sweet spirit. Later I saw him having lunch with a young man, who was pierced and dressed in black, who didn't look like he should be eating lunch with a pastor. I saw a man who loves God and who loves people.

At the movie theater, I ran into the man who once insulted my dad. I saw him loving his wife, loving his children, loving life. I saw a man who did not deserve my grudge.

Several friends texted and Facebooked and called to say, "Hello," "I miss you," "Let's hang out," "I love you." I was tired and busy -- but grateful for their care. I tried to tell them I love them too.

Everyone I knew, it seemed, had posted "25 random things" about themselves on Facebook. I read them all again -- surprised by the honest expressions of disappointment, fear, regret, hope and passion in each list.

Inside my emotional funk, their emotions spoke to me. Stuck in the depths of myself, I was able to see the depth of humanity.

It was beautiful.

I realized I was watching God form the complexity of each person -- the weave of each one's experiences and emotions, failures and victories -- into a work of art, a creation fearfully and wonderfully made, created to do good works, created to love and be loved.

I thanked God for answering my prayers -- to know His love and to love His creation -- and prayed He would answer again tomorrow and the next day and every day hence until we are all made complete in His presence.

Best V-Day Ever!

TITLE: Gertrude Ederle, CALL NUMBER: LC-B2- 6435-16[P and P], REPRODUCTION NUMBER: LC-DIG-ggbain-38654 (digital file from original negative), No known restrictions on publication., MEDIUM: 1 negative : glass ; 5 x 7 in. or smaller. CREATED/PUBLISHED: [no date recorded on caption card,]. Found on http://publicdomainclip-art.blogspot.com.

Somewhere in the midst of watching Journey's Steve Perry lament going "Separate Ways" on VH1 and taking a big bite of chocolate cake, it hit me: This was the best Valentine's Day ever.

I was watching a VH1 Classic Top 20 Breakup Songs of All Time special.

I was eating cake from a mug. That's right. One single serving of gooey goodness -- cooked for me by me in the microwave.

I was cuddling with Buddy, an Australian shepherd/blue heeler mix with a reputation for being a 60-pound lap dog. Cody the miniature huskie and Freckles the 14-year-old mutt were curled up nearby.

The scene was laughably pitiful. So, I laughed. Long and hard with a few snorts thrown in. I put my cake down and danced the wild, I-got-no-one-watching-me dance of a single woman who's kicking it with man's best friend.

Eventually I collapsed on the living room floor of the house I was house-sitting, and the three dogs I was dog-sitting bounded over to beg for a good scratch behind the ears. That's when I realized I meant what I'd said: this was the best Valentine's Day ever.

I wasn't dreaming sappy pink dreams or wishing for a hand to hold. I was having fun. And I knew that someday I'd get to totally dig having a Valentine, but that this day I was okay with cuddling Buddy.

Now, how about another mug of chocolate cake?

Shhh...

Noise is one of my best friends.

When a CD is spinning or the radio is rocking air waves around me, I feel safe. When the washer is whooshing and the drier is drumming -- kerchunk, kerchunk, kerchunk -- I find solace. When chatter flows freely, dodging those awkward pauses, I feel success in the sharing of words.

It is silence that scares me.

Even when I'm outdoors, hiking, biking or kayaking, I revel in the crunch of leaves, the rush of wind and the thwap of paddle in water.

Anything to distract me from myself. Anything to quell the thoughts and fears and questions that arise in silence.

Why?

Because those questions don't have answers. And those fears are real, yet unexplainable. And those thoughts rarely stay in my mind; they travel down and peck at my heart, begging for change -- or worse, begging for acceptance.

Lately, however, silence has come to me. And I've decided to give it a chance. I am trying to leave the radio off every now and then. I am learning to let the awkward conversational pauses hang. I am slowly facing those unanswered questions, those unexplained fears and those unrelenting thoughts.

Mainly I have learned that silence is patient. It appreciates the ability to ask, even without knowing. It allows friendship based on pure enjoyment of another's presence. It deals with a thought when it comes but knows when to let it go.

I think I'm okay with that. I think I'm okay with silence.

High time for Dead Noon

My brother makes movies. He is one of the few souls I know who has the guts to pursue his craft with reckless abandon...and do it well. He deserves a medal, as does his wife Marianne for supporting him.

On February 3rd his movie "Dead Noon," released by Lionsgate, hit shelves and online rental sites. Though Hollywood changed much of his original work -- including cutting a stellar score and some stellar scenes -- I am still one proud sister. Not because Andy's name is "out there" now, deservedly ready to be "discovered," but simply because he did it. He took a story idea from its conception in his mind through the writing process, the filming process, the editing process and the distribution process. With $4,000 and two years of long days on the phone and in front of the computer, he created a living story and sent it out the door to walk on its own.

As I work on my novel -- daily fighting self-doubt and the fear I'm wasting my time -- I realize more fully what an accomplishment that is. What makes it even better is the fact he's learned from all the trials of the crazy process and become an even better man through it all. He is learning, as am I, that creating without the guidance of the Supreme Creator is futile. If an artist or writer can live by that idea, he or she will, I think, always find meaning in what they've given their life to do.

Andy and me in Glacier National Park last summer.

The marquee at my hometown video store a few days before the release of Andy's movie.

Look at that. Dead Noon got top billing.