Today was “Perfect Hair Day.” You may not have seen it listed on your calendar because it chooses when it’s to be celebrated, which varies for each person.
I had a sneaking suspicion it may be today. It was one of the rare days when my hair, dare I say, looked perfect! It was as if all the planets aligned themselves in such a way as to proportionally balance the weight of gravity on each strand of hair, getting them to fall into their pre-designated places. Even the frizzies and rebel strands were getting along where normally; they need a bit of encouragement to calm down.
Don't get me wrong. My hair and I have a great working relationship. There are days though when there’s a full out rebellion on my head. I look in the mirror and sigh, “This is as good as it’s going to get.” I had one such day not so long ago.
This morning, I woke up and groggily looked into the bathroom mirror expecting to see my once put together ponytail all in a messy, chaotic jumble, but no! My slightly tousled bangs were swept back towards my ponytail, which was in tact, reminiscent of a hairstyle I saw Reese Witherspoon wearing to a gala. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! I had tried to get my hair to do this same thing before but had no success.
I admit I was a bit skeptical. So, ok… the bangs look good, but when I take my ponytail out, I’m definitely going to have lumpy ‘ponytail hair’. The think is, I didn’t. It had that ‘I just came from the salon look’. Usually, when I try to replicate such styles, it never comes out quite looking like that salon ‘do’. But today, I only had to do a couple of touch ups. I brushed my golden locks and sprayed them in tact so this ‘do’ would have a sporting chance throughout my work day.
As I was driving to work, I looked in my visor mirror and thought, “Maybe it’s just me getting carried away. Could this hair-do success last an entire day?” I set my purse down at my work ‘cubby’ and walked to my co-worker’s desk to talk about a task, when she stopped me mid-sentence and said, “Your hair looks amazing today!” Wow! That confirmed it. Today was Perfect Hair Day and I am celebrating it. Perhaps I’ll wait to wash my hair tomorrow.
Although, I did notice a few blemishes forming on my face, which has not happened in quite some time. That’s odd. Could Perfect Hair Day have thrown off the hormonal balance of my body? Is my face jealous because it’s not getting the attention it normally gets?
Maybe there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Now that I think of it, I’m glad Perfect Hair Day comes on rare occasions. I don’t think my body can handle it.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Thankful to be Thankful
In looking at the days that come and go in a person’s life, today was nothing spectacular. It was what I call a “veg” day – a day with nothing planned and nowhere I needed to be. I could relax, sleep in as long as my body would let me, and do less exciting but much needed functions of living, a.k.a. the laundry, all in the luxury of my pink fuzzy slippers.
It was my change in attitude that made today extraordinary. It seems 2008 has been one set of health setbacks after another, leaving me battling colds, allergies, the flu, and back spasms that give the term “veg day” a whole new, less inviting meaning.
The pain of one such spasm was haunting me this past week, making every task huge to undertake. I hadn’t realized, but I had just been trudging along, doing what I could to keep moving because I had to, not because I wanted to. Pain, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual is exhausting to deal with and in the midst of it, seems hopeless to overcome. I was bummed as well because I had not been able to exercise like I had been and was starting to feel the effects of it.
On Thursday, relief came in the form of a much-needed massage. From that evening on, it was as if a cloud had been lifted from my eyes and I could see life in a whole new, pain-free light. The clear, night sky seemed brighter, the full moon seemed bigger, and my step had more bounce to it. I could feel a smile creep across my face at this realization. I was thankful.
My thankfulness spread. At work, where more people were out due to sickness than those present, I was thankful to be there. I was thankful to be doing work I enjoy; to make people laugh; and continue my quest to make order out of chaos. My co-workers noticed my transformation.
Today, I was thankful to be able to do my laundry, to bend down and pick up load after load with minimal pain. As I put away my clothes, I was thankful I had the funds to afford them. I was thankful for the rain that was coming down outside; for our ‘old man bunny’ who got caught in the rain; for a fireplace to warm our ‘soggy bottom bunny’; for cute kitties whose sheer role in life is to hold down a specific corner of my bed; for a comfy bed in which to sleep in; and for Listerine that now is vanilla-flavored. I wasn’t just thankful. I was thankful to be thankful.
To be thankful is a blessing because it allows one to see life as it should be seen – with a mixture of awe and humility. It’s the hard times in life that are often the sweetest gift because they allow us to appreciate our achievements, even if small, reminding us of the One who really is in control (and it isn’t me!).
I’m hopeful and determined to be on the road to recovery, thankful for every step that takes me there, especially if in the luxury of pink, fuzzy slippers.
It was my change in attitude that made today extraordinary. It seems 2008 has been one set of health setbacks after another, leaving me battling colds, allergies, the flu, and back spasms that give the term “veg day” a whole new, less inviting meaning.
The pain of one such spasm was haunting me this past week, making every task huge to undertake. I hadn’t realized, but I had just been trudging along, doing what I could to keep moving because I had to, not because I wanted to. Pain, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual is exhausting to deal with and in the midst of it, seems hopeless to overcome. I was bummed as well because I had not been able to exercise like I had been and was starting to feel the effects of it.
On Thursday, relief came in the form of a much-needed massage. From that evening on, it was as if a cloud had been lifted from my eyes and I could see life in a whole new, pain-free light. The clear, night sky seemed brighter, the full moon seemed bigger, and my step had more bounce to it. I could feel a smile creep across my face at this realization. I was thankful.
My thankfulness spread. At work, where more people were out due to sickness than those present, I was thankful to be there. I was thankful to be doing work I enjoy; to make people laugh; and continue my quest to make order out of chaos. My co-workers noticed my transformation.
Today, I was thankful to be able to do my laundry, to bend down and pick up load after load with minimal pain. As I put away my clothes, I was thankful I had the funds to afford them. I was thankful for the rain that was coming down outside; for our ‘old man bunny’ who got caught in the rain; for a fireplace to warm our ‘soggy bottom bunny’; for cute kitties whose sheer role in life is to hold down a specific corner of my bed; for a comfy bed in which to sleep in; and for Listerine that now is vanilla-flavored. I wasn’t just thankful. I was thankful to be thankful.
To be thankful is a blessing because it allows one to see life as it should be seen – with a mixture of awe and humility. It’s the hard times in life that are often the sweetest gift because they allow us to appreciate our achievements, even if small, reminding us of the One who really is in control (and it isn’t me!).
I’m hopeful and determined to be on the road to recovery, thankful for every step that takes me there, especially if in the luxury of pink, fuzzy slippers.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Being Real in a Fake World
I confess I’m in a mood. I recognize the symptoms when life around me takes on the tint of gray in the midst of a beautiful, sunny day, like today. When happy people, especially lovers exhibiting PDA (public displays of affection) make me roll my eyes in disgust. Or when that dull pain in my forehead spreads to my jaw, letting me know I’m clenching my teeth, a sign of stress my dentist would highly disapprove of. Like the character ‘Stuart’ in the self-named comedy skit on Mad TV, I am on the path to my dark place, a place I don’t want to hang around for long. When I get in a mood, I try to be real with myself so I don’t stay here permanently. Like quicksand, the moody symptoms can trap you the more you flirt with their negative power.
In my self-exploration, I realized I’m tired of living in a fake world. We’re living in a fast-paced world that’s trying to do too many things at the same time. We pride ourselves at multi-tasking, but how much are we really getting done? In our feeble attempt at juggling, what falls to the ground? We end up putting on a mask of polite affections just to get through the day as smooth as possible, undetected by life’s little glitches often found in the lives of other people.
As I was leaving church today, I saw a friend who I hadn’t talked to in a while. In my state of moodiness, I was thankful to see a familiar face. She asked me “How are you?” but before I could reply, she answered for me, “Crazy, busy, right?” as she chaotically passed through the lobby doors in search for the rest of her family. Before I knew it, we were in the parking lot and they were headed towards their car.
I realize this famed question is part of the introduction in American culture, but just because something’s cultural doesn’t mean it’s biblical. Being real takes time, patience, flexibility, and a selfless attitude. It takes having Jesus actively living in our lives and being obedient to his prodding on our heart so we can be His hands and feet to those in need. I know today I could have used a sincere “how are you” with time to hear my honest reply.
Our culture is full of this plague of polite affections, sayings such as:
“How are you?”
“Let’s get together sometime.”
“You’re in my thoughts and prayers.”
“Let’s do lunch.”
“I’ll call you.”
The question is, do we mean them? If we are saying things we have no intension of doing or don’t plan on sticking around to hear the answer, we’re hypocrites. The power to influence others for good with our words and actions is lost by our lack of sincerity.
I see this fakeness seeping into the church. Just today, I was standing in the sanctuary singing the words on the overhead screen. The blue lights that framed the stage highlighted the flashy PowerPoint background with its swirling colors of blue and purple. It was a nice show filled with warm fuzzies and fresh coffee in hand, but this was supposed to be a time of worship to the Creator of the Universe. I found myself questioning, “Do those people on stage mean what they’re singing?” “Do I mean what I’m singing? Am I being real with God or just being polite, going through the motions so I blend in?” I found myself closing my eyes, asking God to block out these visual niceties so He could take me to His secret place, out of my dark place, so I could be with Him and Him alone.
I’m concerned that in today’s media-crazed culture, the church has succumbed to marketing God, trying to give Him a hip, new makeover with catchy church names and cool-looking flyers that aren’t too ‘Christian’ so He’ll have cool image, all in an effort to get people to hang out with Him. While trying to reach out to some, it can come across as fake and deceptive to others. I realized today, my heart is tired of fluff and fake truth. It’s a phony filler. I want the real thing. I want God and Him alone.
Despite my mood, I must be real with myself. I must forgive. Forgiveness paves the way for peace; it parts the seas; mends friendships; and makes the gray skies blue again. Forgiveness gives me freedom. As I release these burdens to God, I look forward to coming out of my dark place, making peace with the lovers I walk past, relieving my head of its tension headache, and enjoying a beautifully sunny day tomorrow. Experiencing the reality of a warm, sunny day in February when the rest of the world is deluged in snow is truly a gift no one can fake. For that I am thankful.
In my self-exploration, I realized I’m tired of living in a fake world. We’re living in a fast-paced world that’s trying to do too many things at the same time. We pride ourselves at multi-tasking, but how much are we really getting done? In our feeble attempt at juggling, what falls to the ground? We end up putting on a mask of polite affections just to get through the day as smooth as possible, undetected by life’s little glitches often found in the lives of other people.
As I was leaving church today, I saw a friend who I hadn’t talked to in a while. In my state of moodiness, I was thankful to see a familiar face. She asked me “How are you?” but before I could reply, she answered for me, “Crazy, busy, right?” as she chaotically passed through the lobby doors in search for the rest of her family. Before I knew it, we were in the parking lot and they were headed towards their car.
I realize this famed question is part of the introduction in American culture, but just because something’s cultural doesn’t mean it’s biblical. Being real takes time, patience, flexibility, and a selfless attitude. It takes having Jesus actively living in our lives and being obedient to his prodding on our heart so we can be His hands and feet to those in need. I know today I could have used a sincere “how are you” with time to hear my honest reply.
Our culture is full of this plague of polite affections, sayings such as:
“How are you?”
“Let’s get together sometime.”
“You’re in my thoughts and prayers.”
“Let’s do lunch.”
“I’ll call you.”
The question is, do we mean them? If we are saying things we have no intension of doing or don’t plan on sticking around to hear the answer, we’re hypocrites. The power to influence others for good with our words and actions is lost by our lack of sincerity.
I see this fakeness seeping into the church. Just today, I was standing in the sanctuary singing the words on the overhead screen. The blue lights that framed the stage highlighted the flashy PowerPoint background with its swirling colors of blue and purple. It was a nice show filled with warm fuzzies and fresh coffee in hand, but this was supposed to be a time of worship to the Creator of the Universe. I found myself questioning, “Do those people on stage mean what they’re singing?” “Do I mean what I’m singing? Am I being real with God or just being polite, going through the motions so I blend in?” I found myself closing my eyes, asking God to block out these visual niceties so He could take me to His secret place, out of my dark place, so I could be with Him and Him alone.
I’m concerned that in today’s media-crazed culture, the church has succumbed to marketing God, trying to give Him a hip, new makeover with catchy church names and cool-looking flyers that aren’t too ‘Christian’ so He’ll have cool image, all in an effort to get people to hang out with Him. While trying to reach out to some, it can come across as fake and deceptive to others. I realized today, my heart is tired of fluff and fake truth. It’s a phony filler. I want the real thing. I want God and Him alone.
Despite my mood, I must be real with myself. I must forgive. Forgiveness paves the way for peace; it parts the seas; mends friendships; and makes the gray skies blue again. Forgiveness gives me freedom. As I release these burdens to God, I look forward to coming out of my dark place, making peace with the lovers I walk past, relieving my head of its tension headache, and enjoying a beautifully sunny day tomorrow. Experiencing the reality of a warm, sunny day in February when the rest of the world is deluged in snow is truly a gift no one can fake. For that I am thankful.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
The Courage to be Creative
Thursday, January 31, 2008
I find myself sitting in the cushy luxury of my pillow-encrusted bed at the Broadmoor Hotel while I reflect on my first evening at the Christian Writer’s Guild conference. I can’t help but feel like a princess sitting under a canopy of blue and gold fabric, sweetly framing the bed as if it were to be the cover shot in some illustrious travel magazine. It is now I can exhale, allowing my tired body to sink into the blankets, enveloping me like a much needed hug after a long day, a day that began for me at 2 this morning.
I almost didn’t make it here! Last week I came down with the flu, which kept me from work the entire week. My birthday festivities were kept to an intimate gathering of brave souls whose love for me stretched beyond the fear of getting ‘cooties.’ (Sorry, Margaret and Bethany for infecting you!) I was frustrated because my grandiose plans to prepare for this conference were replaced with a fever, chills, and a gut-hacking cough that attempted to free my body of it’s mucus invaders. I am glad to be here, a victor of phlegm and fever. I’m not sure why God wants me here.
This isn’t my first writer’s conference. I attended two over the past few years in an attempt at obedience once God put this calling on my heart to write and to minister to teen/ college girls. Each experience has educated me further on this craft. I have been writing a book for teen girls over the past 6 years. I’ve seen it evolve to its present state and I’m here looking for guidance as to my next steps, to see if my writing is relevant to this audience, and possibly, see if a publisher is interested in it.
The thing is God never told me this was to be published. He just told me to do it and so I am, reluctantly at times. Doubt has acted like an infectious cootie to my confidence, making me think I don’t have what it takes to do what God has called me to do. I cling to the promise that I can do all things through Him who gives me strength. If He says I can do it, then I will muster up enough courage to believe that He can work through me, even if at times this task seems impossible and myself crazy for doing it.
During our conference orientation, we were told to be open to what God has in store. Be aware of who we’re sitting next to, who we’re meeting with, and whose workshops we’re attending. You never know when God will orchestrate divine appointments. We shall see! As for now, I’m looking forward to snuggling into my down comforter and choosing which of the four pillows on my bed will have the optimum cushiness to be my head’s companion.
I find myself sitting in the cushy luxury of my pillow-encrusted bed at the Broadmoor Hotel while I reflect on my first evening at the Christian Writer’s Guild conference. I can’t help but feel like a princess sitting under a canopy of blue and gold fabric, sweetly framing the bed as if it were to be the cover shot in some illustrious travel magazine. It is now I can exhale, allowing my tired body to sink into the blankets, enveloping me like a much needed hug after a long day, a day that began for me at 2 this morning.
I almost didn’t make it here! Last week I came down with the flu, which kept me from work the entire week. My birthday festivities were kept to an intimate gathering of brave souls whose love for me stretched beyond the fear of getting ‘cooties.’ (Sorry, Margaret and Bethany for infecting you!) I was frustrated because my grandiose plans to prepare for this conference were replaced with a fever, chills, and a gut-hacking cough that attempted to free my body of it’s mucus invaders. I am glad to be here, a victor of phlegm and fever. I’m not sure why God wants me here.
This isn’t my first writer’s conference. I attended two over the past few years in an attempt at obedience once God put this calling on my heart to write and to minister to teen/ college girls. Each experience has educated me further on this craft. I have been writing a book for teen girls over the past 6 years. I’ve seen it evolve to its present state and I’m here looking for guidance as to my next steps, to see if my writing is relevant to this audience, and possibly, see if a publisher is interested in it.
The thing is God never told me this was to be published. He just told me to do it and so I am, reluctantly at times. Doubt has acted like an infectious cootie to my confidence, making me think I don’t have what it takes to do what God has called me to do. I cling to the promise that I can do all things through Him who gives me strength. If He says I can do it, then I will muster up enough courage to believe that He can work through me, even if at times this task seems impossible and myself crazy for doing it.
During our conference orientation, we were told to be open to what God has in store. Be aware of who we’re sitting next to, who we’re meeting with, and whose workshops we’re attending. You never know when God will orchestrate divine appointments. We shall see! As for now, I’m looking forward to snuggling into my down comforter and choosing which of the four pillows on my bed will have the optimum cushiness to be my head’s companion.
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