one time...

• ...I gave a woman the Heimlich maneuver at a Chinese restaurant. It felt like television. Only, no one clapped or cheered afterwards.
• ...when I was about 9 on a school field trip, I bought a Canadian coin from the mint in Winnipeg. Sealed in a plastic case, it had never been touched by human hands. On the bus ride home, I chewed it out of the plastic holder so I could be the first human to touch it.
• ...I drove my parents car around the block a few times. I was eleven. I told them about it. When I was eighteen.
• ...I saw ravens for the first time on a girl scout camp out. They were huge. I thought they were a sign of the rapture. For real. (They weren't a sign of the rapture. They were just regular ravens.)

Happy weekend.

I should take a little break from writing...

...I took down yesterday's post because it may or may not have included hypothetical idiots, Fire Marshalls and burning hotels.

My husband read it and said it didn't sound like me. I told him that it was the most me I've ever been...because I'm nothing if not overly dramatic. And loony.

He was right, though...it wasn't very nice. So it's gone.

This is precisely why God didn't give me *laser eyes.

*Sometimes, when I am driving in my car and people make me mad, I think it would awesome to have laser eyes. However, I would be lasering people in the heat of the moment. And then my husband would tell me that it isn't like me to be lasering people with my eyes. And once someone is lasered, they can't be UNlasered.

So.

There you go.

chained elephants

I heard the best "sermon" on the radio the other night.

It was about how baby circus elephants are chained to a stake dug deeply in the ground. They pull and pull and pull, then finally give up once they realize that they can't get loose. (That's not the great part.)

As mature elephants, they are still chained to a stake. The stake would never hold them if they tried to pull against it. They just assume that since the chain is there, and the stake is dug, they can't be loosed. So they stay. Chained.

The whole point was that we often believe some kind of lie about ourselves. A lie that keeps us chained. Held back. That if we only tried, we would find that we could be loosed.

I thought about myself. The lies that hold me back. My eating. I'm a good eater and always have been. I buy into the lie that I have no self control, and that I'm an eater and always will be. It's just who I am.

But it's a lie. I don't have to be a huge eater. I can have self control and be whom ever I want to be. No stake can hold me. I'm a huge elephant.

rocket science

I got to see some gals from back home last weekend. It was a blast. So much fun to catch up. Good food. Fun times.

I had to drive a little to get myself to brunch. On the way, I passed many a field. Many. A. Field.

And I started thinking.

I don't think I've ranted on this topic here before. It's not necessarily a passion of mine....or a call I feel towards social activism. Perhaps a call to common sense? To The Greater Good. To Thinking About Thy Neighbor.

Where am I going with this?

Good question.

I live in the lovely state of Minnesota. We have this thing here called No Net Loss. It's about wetland protection to put it completely plainly. Which is the only way I know how to put it. What it means is: if a big company, say Wal Mart, builds a gigantic store on land that had been protected or labeled as "Wetland", then they must pay for someone else or for themselves to put an equal amount of qualifying land that had not been previously categorized as "Wetland" into "Wetland." Which makes sense, right? Yes.

It's all well and good. Wetland is good. Good for wildlife. Good for everyone.

I have no problem with No Net Loss.

I have a problem with drain tiles. (Stay with me, this eventually ties together....sort of....)

Miles and miles and miles and miles of drain tiles.

I'm sure you've seen it.

This time of year, or any time of year when the ground isn't frozen or planted, you can drive yourself into the country and see farmers laying black plastic tubing into their fields. It keeps things dry helping to dispel standing water. Which is fantastic for farmers. Fantastic!

BUT!

Do you know what happens with water that once filtered into the ground slowly, that now quickly and efficiently funnels out of a field? It goes somewhere else. Like to the rivers and ditches and lakes and any other place that does not have drain tile.

All over my wonderful state we are experiencing record Springtime flooding. Where is all this water coming from the people wonder....hmmmm?

It's such a mystery.

Perhaps we could have something called No Net Gain? Maybe for every mile of drain tile placed in the ground a few gallons of worth of water withholding could be built? A lake? A diversion? Something?

Am I the only one who gets her undies in a bundle over problems that have seemingly simple solutions? I know we aren't the only place in the world with this problem. And don't get me started about the chemicals that have been ushered by drain tiles into the aquifers and rivers and lakes and streams and oceans.

The Crazy

On my way home from dropping the kids off at school this morning, I drove past a city park. The frost was clinging to the weeds in the field. Such beauty.

I pulled into the lot, and sat there for a long while.

Taking it all in...


Lately, I've been wrestling with myself. With my thoughts. With a little part of myself I've named "The Crazy." The Crazy changes its focus often. Sometimes The Crazy is worried about kidnappers. Sometimes mice. Sometimes lice. Sometimes cancer.

The worries are always real things. But the intensity with which I focus on them does not equal the odds of their occurrence.

I've been praying about The Crazy. I'm recognizing a pattern. When I pray about my fears, I'm always bargaining with God. "So if you promise to never give us lice, I will promise to always be obedient." (Or something to that effect.)

As if I can manipulate Him. Which I know that I can't. But I still can't shake those contingent prayers. "My life is Yours. But PLEASE don't let my kids get cancer." Somewhere along the way, I connected total obedience to horrible trials and tribulations. And because I am a control freak of nature, I try to bargain with the trials and tribulations that may or may not befall me. "You can have my arms amputated as long as my children stay safe from sexual predators."

(I am feeling REALLY exposed right now....but am hoping that someone will be blessed by The Crazy. So here's some more...)

Back to the city park: I sat there and prayed. "Lord, I want to be able to give myself completely to You. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what that will look like. Please don't let my kids get scabies."

UGH! I couldn't shut off that conditional trailing thought.

"Lord. Take away the worry. Come what may, just give me Jesus. Give me strength. Give me courage. Give me peace."


As I drove out of that parking lot, I think I might have run over Please don't let my house burn down and Help us to never get bed bugs.

And so far since, The Crazy has been pretty quiet. I'm glad. Because The Crazy almost completely eclipses The Joy.

high school baggage

I've been thinking. Which is something I haven't had the luxury of doing for a few months. When I'm on auto-pilot that part of my brain shuts itself off. Conservation. Or protection. Or something.

But the thinking began when I was doing my hair. I thought about trying something a little different. A little jazzy. But then I stopped and thought, "Wait a minute. Who do I think I am? I'm not someone with jazzy hair! What will people think? They will think, 'Who does she think she is? She's not someone with jazzy hair!'"

And so I didn't have jazzy hair. I let myself be defined by my own made up thoughts about other people's thoughts about who I am. (Did you follow that? Extend some grace, please. My thoughts have been shut off for a while, so they're a bit rusty.)

So then I thought about my thoughts. And about why I would care if people actually had those thoughts about my identity. (Thoughts thoughts thoughts....just trying to wear out that word. It looks strange if you type it out too many times.) I traced those feelings back to middle school. The time when you are tyring to figure out who you are. When all too often we let ourselves be defined by the people around us. We let them dictate what we look like. How we act. What we say.

Why do we do that?

Why did I do that?

Why am I still doing that?!

No more, my friends! No more!

There is only One that can define who I am. Only One that I am going to listen to. And, frankly, He doesn't care about my outward appearance. If I want jazzy hair, or no hair, or blue hair...He loves me just the same.

I might even become a hat person. A hat person that wears huge jewelry. A hat person that wears huge GLITTERY jewelry!

There is no stopping me now.