Full Of It

I'm feeling empty.
Well, actually, I'm feeling full.
Just full of crap.
And therefore, empty of anything of value.
And here's what I've realized:
When you give away pieces of yourself, you have to accept the possibility that you will just end up empty. And that it probably isn't going to change.

The only thing you can do is make sure that you're being filled with things that truly satisfy you.
And I can list the things I've been trying to use to fill myself that are not working.
And I can list the ways I've been seeking reciprocation that have not been working.
And what happens is that I give more
and more
and more
and hope that I'll get something back in return
And I just end up disappointed
and even more empty

I try to come up with new ways to give
just craving some recognition
and effort in return
give second chances
give full attention
give time I don't have

and wind up waiting

I prayed for this.
I prayed for compassion.
And the ability to feel again.
To be able to share myself with other people.
And it's all good and right.
It's good to give these pieces of myself.

But I can't seek them in return.
Something else needs to fill up the emptiness that gets left behind
so that I can continue to give more.

Fill me up, Bread of Heaven, fill me
Enlighten me, Bright and Morning Star
Build me up, Master Builder, build me
Empower me, Mighty Great I AM
Heal me up, Great Physician, heal me
Inhabit me, Gentle Comforter
Use me up, Holy Master, use me
Empower me, Mighty Great I AM

In Jesus' Name,
amen

About Me:

Every once in a while I get a little pang of conviction. And I get reminded of how selfish I can be. Not necessarily selfish, but self-centered. And I don't meant that in a snotty way. I mean it in the "centered on self" way.

I try to blame it on just not paying attention. But, like they say, ignorance is no excuse for the law. Not too long ago, I was writing my boyfriend an e-mail and I was in a rather moody state. It doesn't happen very often, but I started thinking of all of the ways I could be a better person. A better friend. A better roommate. A better teacher. A better neighbor. A better runner. And really, what it boiled down to is that in order to make myself better I had to own less of myself.

I have this habit to think about people I love; and then not do anything to share with them that I'm thinking about them. Or tell people I'm going to pray about something (with every intention to do so) and then not do it. To be a better friend I have to STOP what I'm doing and act on my thoughts.

I have a really great roommate. And it's crazy-weird how well we get along because we are really quite different. But lately I've been bombing in the communication category; and then instead of trying to fix it I worry about making her mad at me. To be a better roommate I have to remember that I am not the only one who lives in my house.

I love teaching. And I feel like I am good at it. But I don't like to be told how to be better at it. And I don't like to reflect on my teaching. But after some serious (and long overdue) reflection, I realized that in order to be a GREAT teacher I must change what I believe. I must take that extra time and prepare. I must extend my workday until I'm completely ready for the next one. Because it doesn't do anyone any favors to know *what* I'm doing; but not *how* I'm doing it. To be a better teacher I must donate my time and my organizational skills to my students. I must stretch my patience to its full elasticity; rather than just until it's still comfortably bouncy.

I have the greatest neighbors. On all sides. However, I have been taking my sweet time tearing down and (eventually) putting up a new fence. And while they say they don't mind; I can be a much better neighbor by actually following through and getting this fence done. I have time in my day. To be a better neighbor by following through, and sacrificing my alone time a little bit until the job gets done.

I love running. I run because I tend to not like to try at most things. But running is hard. It makes me tired. It makes me persevere. It forces me to take regular showers. It makes feel feel like I've accomplished something that a lot of other people just can't do. But the problem is that I don't push myself. I run at a comfortable pace, and I run for a comfortable distance. I don't try to get better, I just stay where I am. And the reason I started running in the first place was to try to make myself better. So now, to be a better runner, that means I actually have to push. I have to be consistent. I have to work my core. I have to be uncomfortable.

And I think that running makes this an entire metaphor for my life.
It's true. I did start running because I felt like I didn't know what it feels like to try. Or to hurt. Or to be so tired I couldn't move. Because I don't put that much effort into anything. Relationships. Work. School. Fence-building. Anything. And when my outlet that is supposed to make me feel becomes "just another thing to try to make time for" I know I have to let go. I have to let go of myself and get up and push harder. I have to become uncomfortable. I have to push beyond my means. I have to sacrifice my time.

On Facebook there's a part in the profile where it says "About Me:"
I have a friend who pricked my heart when she put it perfectly in two words:

It's Not.

She's Just Not That Into You

Ashley and I rented "He's Just Not That Into You" and watched it tonight. Despite my inability to recall the title when I told people what movie we were watching for our "roommate date," I did really want to see it. I was secretly hoping that there was a character in it with whom I would relate. . .and then I could watch it from outside myself and observe what my future might hold.

Despite my award-winning personality (middle school honor roll), my dashing good looks (thanks dad), and my charming giggle (owe it to you, grandma Merilyn) I think it's fair to say I've not had the best luck with relationships.
Now, I will take complete blame here--because I pull what I like to call "an Elaine" and randomly start finding things that weird me out about boys on whom I once had a crush. Be it a sudden realization of very effeminate flailing while playing the drums in a band that played music that made me want to beat my head against a wall. Or walking with such superb posture and grace that Audrey Hepburn would be put to shame. Or the inability to form a sentence lasting less than two minutes (74% comprised of the word "ummmmmm"). I immediately started developing a reputation (perhaps in my own mind) for being cold-hearted. And I started finding things I did NOT want.

I am a pretty strong person. I think I can thank a former boyfriend for that one. Because I got used to having my feelings not matter that much. And I think that's okay. Because it's almost gotten to the point where it's uncomfortable to feel them without proper planning. I've been praying about it, though. It's probably not a good idea to be so inept at recognizing feelings that I laugh when I tell stories about the awkward kid who tried to ask me out. But it was so funny. But that's no excuse. I need some compassion.

So watching the movie. . .there aren't any of the girls' situations that really match mine. And then I realized the awful truth: I related the most with Justin Long's character. I was the boy. I was not just the boy....but I was the insensitive, jerk-faced, hollow boy.

That was a little bit of a slap. Especially when the psycho emotional girl who liked him told him off. She said, "I'd rather be like this than like you and alone." Or something to that affect.

And I do that.

I attract the really sensitive ones; get really annoyed with their sensitivity; and then toss them aside and label them as women. But if I'm that guy in the movie, I'm living up to my role.

Now, in the movie, he says something cheesy to her like "you're my exception" and they end up together and happy. Fine and well. I guess I could buy that. But here's my problem: I'm not a boy. I don't want to be the boy in the relationship.
And I definitely don't want to be the boy in the relationship if my counterpart is a boy who is actually a super-paranoid over-sensitive girl (metaphorically speaking, of course).

So while I'll admit that I'm terribly callous, and could use a good dose of feeling (hence prayers for compassion--which I am honestly not sure what I'm getting myself into); have I just really just forgotten what it's like to have emotions and have them be accepted? Am I just living in a constant state of defense mechanism, hoping that if I hurt him first it won't hurt me as much?

My mom says that I only have crushes on famous people because it means I don't have to commit to anything.
And she tells me that I'm "too picky."
And I believe it's okay to be picky.
But maybe I'm not as sure of myself as I always thought I was.
Because if the only character with whom I can relate is the jerk, then maybe I ought to re-examine my intrapersonal relationships. Because I don't think I want to be that jerk.

As for the movie--it's not really that good. You're not missing that much.

The Chasing Song; Part 2

It's always a bad sign when I feel like I have no valuable thoughts trickling around in my head. Typically, as the pattern goes, it means that I've made myself much too busy with myself. . .

I've given myself a pretty busy schedule this summer--which I do not mind at all. I have this horrible habit of being completely content plyaing free cell for an hour at a time.
Or plunking out my favorite Smashing Pumpkins songs on the piano.
Tuning the guitar and trying to perfect "Mexico" by Jump, Little Children because when I sing it it makes me feel like there's someone somewhere I could influence into not being far away from me.
And we can't forget Facebook.

I am just an overall happy person. I don't need bells and whistles to keep my attention, or to keep me satisfied. But the more complacent I get in my routine (and believe you me, I THRIVE on routine), the easier it become to just turn on auto pilot. I stop looking for ways to deliberately make my steps be worship and my thoughts be praise. And I stop actively seeking ways to seek God.

I was driving home from Tulsa the other night, and to my left there was a giant billowy cloud in the southern sky that was constantly lighting up with lightning. There wasn't any thunder, rain, or wind. Just flashes of electricity. In that 90 minute drive, there was not more than 3 seconds that did not contain a flash of light. And I turned off the radio and really tried to consciously pray and listen to God. And I couldn't hear him. I couldn't turn down the volume of the plan for the next day. I was hungry. I was tired. I was thinking about all the boys I have crushes on. I was mad because I couldn't watch the lightening and drive at the same time because I'd have to turn my head to the left. And I couldn't shift my focus off myself.

I got home and I lay in bed, trying to just be still. And then I feel asleep and dreamed about a Chinese family. I'm pretty sure that wasn't some divine message for me to decipher.

I'm not really sure where this leaves me.
But I'm thinking it might be time for another trip through the Psalms. . .I need to get in touch with my alter-ego, David. And try to remember what it takes to be a girl after God's own heart.

The Best of Pancakes and Tea

I've been feeling less than inspired lately. And when I feel uninspired, I always go back and re-read old articles in this blog. Sometimes I can't believe how smart I used to be. And occasionally I feel like I've definitely done some serious backsliding in my relationship with God. I feel like I've been calling more and more on myself, and less and less on him.

So, sometimes it helps me to remind myself of all of the wise thoughts I've had in the past. I figured I'd to back and find "the best of" in the last 4 or so years of this blog. Some are thoughtful. Some clever. Some just silly. But these are some of my favorites. Maybe you will enjoy them.

The Procrastination Station
The one that started it all.

I Got Used to Sweatpants
The one about sweatpants.

The Jesus I Serve
The one where I don't get to define Jesus.

This Stupid, Stupid Wind
The one where I have a bad day.

I Have Hidden Your Word in My Heart, And I Misplaced it
The one where I begrudgingly relate to David.

Love Letters
The one that's a total metaphor about God's word.

Never, Ever, Ever Give Up
The one where I accomplished my [then] life's goal.

My Hero
The one about heroes.

New Years Resolutions
The one about not making excuses.

Mr. Orkin: Man of My Dreams
The one about my future husband.

Of a Rather Pressing Note
The one where I tell Scott Toilet Tissue what is what.

When I Start to Miss Michigan
The one where I realize I can be happy in Oklahoma as long as I'm trusting God.

A Serious Addiction
The one where I confess my undying love for Rocky Balboa

Living in the Past

I have a really good memory.

I have a really good memory when it comes to things that happened a long time ago, that is. Memories, for me, are most often triggered by smells. After familiar smells come memories of touch. If something feels familiar it will most likely trigger a memory. The third trigger is taste--although I have a hard time specifically placing familiar tastes to specific foods or items. I place the taste with the event to which it belongs. The last two senses (sight and sound) least often trigger memories, but neither dominates the other.

I have a lot of really really good memories. And I tend to just bask in them quite often because they make me feel good. I don't tend to express emotion very often (unless I'm watching The Biggest Loser....go figure!), and aside from perpetual cheerfulness the only other side people really get to see me express is what I would call "flustered." Pretty much I'm either always excited, or occasionally flustered. With certain exceptions I'm rarely sad, angry, moody, etc.

I think the reason I tend to live so much in my memories is because when I'm remembering them, they tend to make me feel. They tend to make me feel when real life just doesn't.

This morning I was out pulling weeds in my side yard. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, even though it was only about 65 degrees. It was cloudy, thunder was faintly rumbling in the distance, and a little sprinkle would hit me every now and again. And it all seemed very familiar. I could hear the drops trickling through the leaves in the trees, and a bird squawking about something or other. Something about this seemed very familiar. It reminded me of when my family would go camping every summer in Indiana.

We'd wake up in the morning, and it would be cool, crisp, and a little damp from the morning's dew. A bird or two would be chatting, but other than that it was pretty quiet. It was cool enough that it wouldn't be crazy to wear pants until it warmed up; but since it was summer, we usually just wore shorts. Our cousins were just a campsite or two over, and we'd join up at grandma's campsite for breakfast. We'd go back to our campsite and grab our slightly damp swimsuits off the clothesline and put them on because, surely, within the next few hours we'd be headed for the lake to go swimming and make sandcastles. Then, in a little while, maybe we'd hop on our bikes and ride over to the one random set of cousins who somehow managed to get a site all the way on the other side of the park (it seemed to be a different set every year). Those days we just played. We were outside, rain or shine, together, and I never remember being bored.

Days like this don't happen very often in Oklahoma. And I am so grateful when they do. A cloudy, cool, day spattered with raindrops and thunder can be good for everybody once in a while.

I've always liked the rain. And I especially like it in Oklahoma because (this week aside) it doesn't come terribly often. But when it comes it reminds me that God does provide. And he knows what this land needs. And he knows what I need. And, even when it seems bothersome or doesn't make sense, his timing is everything.

Love Ya Like A Sister

For those of you who know me well, you will know that I have a twin. Her name is Jennifer and she lives in Montana. We're not identical, and we actually didn't meet until I was 23 and she was 24. And we met in; of all places; Edmond, Oklahoma.

We met, and almost instantly bonded. We migrated toward each other like some miraculous unknown force of gravity and after much comtemplation and examination we figured that we were clearly just twins separated at birth. Jennifer and I would go on adventures together, and took much delight in dressing alike. Friday nights were Twin IHOP Bible Study Nights, and we'd dress alike, go to IHOP and stay there for hours talking and doing our Bible Studies. We had a monthly tradition of getting matching pedicures that would help us represent and celebrate whatever holiday or occasion that happened that month. Jennifer and I both enjoyed running, and would frequently run around our neighborhood together. We would talk about how one day when were were grown up we would be neighbors and best friends and have dueling inflatable lawn decorations. Our husbands would most likely also be twins--just like us--so we could all be a happy twin family.
We started gettin really serious about planning our future when we discovered that we had a tremendous amount of musical talent between the two of us and immediately began recordning our upcoming Valentine's Day release, "Greatest Love Songs of All Time." We had a great piano/clarinet/vocal arrnagement of A Whole New World in the works. And plans for Total Eclispse of the Heart, Bicycle Built for Two, and other romantic classics like America the Beautiful and The Star Spangled Banner. As you can see, Jennifer and I have a very special relationship. It rivals that of Mary-Kate and Ashley, Zack and Screech, Will and Grace, or even Cheech and Chong (minus any drug reference, of course). I always assumed we were one of a kind. No other twins out there like us; until I came across this lovely pair:

I'm pretty sure that they are our British, and boy counterparts. And one day if we ever meet them, I'm sure we will be best friends immediately and forever.

In related news: Jennifer and I will most likely turn our efforts to video-recording, in addition to our audio releases. Because I think we will make people feel better about themselves. Because laughter is the best medecine--and Jennifer and I are most certainly the BEST!