I think it's time to soar.

I have been thinking so much lately. Thinking and not doing. I've also been reading a lot. Well, not any more than usual but I have been wanting to read a lot more. Insatiable. That is the word that best describes my desire to read right now. I am currently reading Forgotten God by Francis Chan, A Common Sense Guide to Economics by Thomas Sowell, Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler, Getting Started in Drawing by Wendon Blake and Leviticus by uh, Moses? I'm reading Leviticus because every January I make the resolution to read through the entire Bible. By the time I get to Leviticus I poop out. It's dreadful. So, I'm starting there now. Reading three chapters every night. It works very well to put me to sleep.


I've been feeling levels of discontentment which have heretofore been unknown to me. Forgotten God is speaking very clearly to that. It's about the Holy Spirit and his role in our lives. Francis states that we are all living dreadfully separated from the Spirit of God. And I agree.


I want to be famous. There. That is my biggest confession. I'm not sure which is saddest... the fact that I have that pitifully shallow desire or that I have no skill or talent for which I would ever be famous. I would like to write children's books. Or be a musician or a photographer. I suppose in a nutshell I would like to be an artist. If Daniel made all the money we needed to live I would do arts and crafts all day. I think. Also, I would have babies. But that scares me, too. I was thinking today... I think my mom could have been anything she wanted to be when she was a young lady... instead, though, she had kids. It's funny because I think I could be anything I want to be, too. But I think instead I'll have kids.

I really do believe that being a mom is the most important responsibility and joy, even, in all the world. That is why I so strongly desire to be one (and because of some innate urge that I feel deep down in my soul). BUT, I must also admit that I mourn all the things that are sacrificed when deciding to take that path in life.

I know a lot of yuppie moms. Moms who have garages full of colored Tupperware tubs that are color coded for each holiday and season. Moms who scrapbook. Moms who don't have to work because their husbands make plenty so they can stay home and volunteer at their kids' school or take the kids to the library or to the park in the middle of the day. Part of me wants that so bad it's embarrassing. But another part of me cringes at the thought that one day I will be just like all the other yuppie moms in all the other yuppie neighborhoods who all attend yuppie churches with other yuppie families. (Do you feel my disdain for yuppie-ness???)

BUT what if I have a family with a mini-van, some scrapbooks and color-coated Tupperware tubs while living in community with other believers??? Will that make it okay?? Will that make me less of a yuppie? I hope so. And by in community with other believers I mean literally living in the same house with another family or two (or three or four).

How ridiculous is it that this takes up so much of my thought life when D and I are years away from ever even having a child (or a house or a mini-van)? Quite.

I'm late to something. C'est ma vie.

('Let your yes be yes and your no be no.' That's when the Bible is telling us not to swear or promise. I promise to blog more often. And I swear I'll be as honest as I can.)

Shout outs to Brandy, Abi and Jess: my followers. And Emaline. I think she reads this, too.

It happened exactly the way I didn't want it to happen.

The blogging that is...because well, obviously, I'm not a consistent blogger. It turns out that it is kind of overwhelming to write something that is interesting, deep, funny or all of the above. Added on to that is the pressure to write well. I thought about shutting down this operation completely but then I knew I would think of a zillion interesting, deep or funny things to say right after I did it.

The other day I spilled some flour in the cabinet. My housemate pointed it out to me nicely and I gladly cleaned it up. The next morning I came down stairs and found a note from my housemate that asked if I would clean the flour up in the cabinet. Apparently, I had missed a few places where the flour had spilled. So I go to look in the cabinet and find notes posted with arrows pointing to all the places where I missed cleaning. They were mostly on shelves above or below my line of sight. The night before I had only cleaned up what was right in front of me.

I don't mean to overspiritualize, but it made me think about some things. 1) We (here meaning me) hate to have our mistakes pointed out to us. 2) We (again, me) need others to help us see the bigger picture. and 3) Grace is the best thing about Christianity.

Even little paper arrows can cause my anger to flare and my accusing finger to fly. Even though I knew there was no maliciousness intended it still hurt. Hurt what exactly? I guess my pride.

My second reaction (after anger) at seeing those paper arrows was to laugh. There were LOTS of arrows. I had missed LOTS of the spilled flour. I couldn't help but laugh at how blind I must have been to have missed so much and how silly I was to think that the flour only spilled directly in front of me.

Grace is not easily defined for me. But I know it when it is given. There are not silly hard feelings to hold onto. There is no unspoken bitterness.
After cleaning ALL the flour up I continued to clean and organize the whole pantry. So this morning I woke up to a nice note from my housemate telling me how nice the pantry looks.

Living in community, specifically Christian community is an exercise in learning to show grace and receive it. I think we are doing pretty well.