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My first three years of college I was an achiever. I worked hard to do well in all my classes, became student newspaper editor and earned several scholarships. For me, everything seemed within grasp if I just worked hard enough ... including spiritual goals.
When I suddenly fell ill to Lyme disease as a senior, I began to see how warped my thinking was. All of a sudden, I wasn't able to work hard and accomplish things. I had to rely on the mercy of others to even manage 12 credit hours. Many times my energy felt like that Old Testament widow's jar ... it refilled just enough to get me through each day. This setback drastically altered my view of my worth. I had put a lot of stock in my ability to do things and even viewed my value to God in my performance. As a sick person with little to give, I came to discover my value came from who I was, not what I could do.
In today's featured article "Craving Crisis," Kara Schwab describes a similar epiphany:
Somehow I was letting what I was doing for God give me purpose, instead of simply being His child. I must have believed that by doing more, I could prove my love to God, earn His love and feel good about myself. The problem is, the older you get and the more your faith matures, the more you realize you're not a super hero or a super Christian, but just a big, worthless windbag of sin. And what pierces you is not the shame of it all, but the truth that even with all that wind, there's nothing you can do to further fan the flame of Christ's incredible and passionate love for you.
I would say I discovered I was more than a "worthless windbag of sin" trying to make up the difference through superhuman effort. No, I was far from worthless. But my worth came from the price Jesus paid to reconcile me to Himself. There was nothing I could do to render myself more or less valuable to Him. During that time, a professor said to me, "Sometimes God humbles those with gifts, because they find too much value in them." That was true for me. Through my illness God tore me down to my foundation and began rebuilding.
As Kara points out, some people get a buzz off of averting crises and doing it all. But eventually you will not be able to do it all, and what then?
Now, I find that what I crave is balance. And while I still enjoy a heart-thumping mountain-top experience as much as anyone else, I'm finding more meaning in the hike that gets me there. Balance is something I'll always have to actively pursue. Only now I know this pursuit begins by resting at the feet of Jesus.
That kind of rest can be a slippery thing to grasp. But there's power in recognizing your limitations and realizing that what you can or can't do matters less than we think. God does His thing regardless of our abilities. And He invites us to peace and satisfaction. Something far better than the crisis.
Today's Boundless Answers by Candice reminded me of an e-mail I received a few weeks ago. A guy friend of mine in another town told me one of his friends was starting a Bible study to encourage the women in their singles' group to put appropriate effort into their outward appearance. "Basically," he said, "my friend believes these girls aren't doing anything to dress attractively or take care of themselves -- essentially "look cute" for the guys they're hoping to attract."
The reader featured in today's column admits to a lifelong struggle with her weight and asks Candice if she can still hope to attract a husband. Candice's answer is insightful:
What's most important in our efforts to be beautiful is a godly perspective. The Bible says our hearts house our Lord; that our bodies are temples where the Holy Spirit dwells. It only makes sense that we do the best with what we've been given to keep them healthy and fit. It's a matter of stewardship.
I believe the healthy ideal is to eat foods in as close to their natural state as possible, to eat when you're hungry, to stop eating before you're full, and to incorporate movement into your lifestyle. The more liveable your fitness routine, the more likely you'll do it.
Like you, I've been up and down on the scale. And whether heavy or light, I feel best when I'm focusing on the people in my life, my relationship with God and the work He's called me to. If I never thought about food, weight, or body image again, that would be wonderful! It seems the women who do their best in these areas, then get on with life, are the most relaxed and delightful to be with. It's not just looks that attract men, but attitudes!
Certainly, if there are things a woman can do to look more feminine and take appropriate pride in her body, she should do them. Her attitude and demeanor may change just out of the sense of well-being and confidence she receives from exercising, putting on a little make-up or wearing attractive clothes that suit her body type.
But like Candice points out, ultimately beauty comes from within and all types of women attract husbands:
Getting married isn't about "looking good enough," it's about being fully who God made you to be. I pray that you will find your identity in your maker and be fully at rest in Him, trusting that His design for your body is good. May He strengthen you for the work of being a good steward, enable you to enjoy the fruits of those efforts and be at peace with the results.
I used to fall into the "is my appearance keeping me single" trap. [See " I Let Myself Go."] Once I started really trying to look my best and take care of myself, the confidence that came with that seemed to grab the attention of the guys around me. As Candice says, life is about "being fully who God created you to be." That is where true beauty can flourish.
Cryptic title, I know: "It" could mean so many things. In this case, "it" means your health.
I was sick for a few days last week and ran through my usual cycle of attitudes. While I'm sick, I'm ticked off that the daily good health I take for my birthright has been snatched away. When I recover, I'm thankful to God for the energy and vitality I normally have. After all, I remind myself, some people feel as bad as I did a lot longer. Some people feel a lot worse all the time. (Just watch the Labor Day muscular dystrophy telethon this weekend.)
Needless to say, my attitude is a lot, well, healthier when I recover than when I get sick. Alas, that attitude doesn't last, and soon I'm back to taking things for granted again. Which is why I'm raising the subject now, while I'm thinking about it. It's just too easy to take your health for granted, especially if you're in your 20s. You need to make an effort to remember what a gift it is.
Can you run? Can you walk? Can you bend over without pain? Whatever degree of health you enjoy, give thanks for it and rejoice in it. Remember that you didn't have to have this gift, and odds are that some day you'll have a lot less of it. Savor however much you have now, while you can. Find a way to use it to help someone who doesn't have this particular blessing in such abundance.
In short, check your attitude to see if it's better than mine tends to be.
Oh, one more reminder: There's a glorious body waiting for you that's better than any you've ever had. Christians don't think about this as much as they did in ages past, when people commonly died young. But the encouraging reality hasn't changed. For those who believe, healthy or sick, the best is yet to come.
According to a new study by British researchers, using obscene words can actually help reduce pain.
Time reports that psychologists from Keele University performed an experiment where college students were asked to stick their hands into buckets of ice water and endure the pain for several minutes. One group was allowed to repeat a curse word of their choice. The other group had to repeat a control word -- "such as that which might be used to describe a table."
The result?
"... swearing not only allowed students to withstand the discomfort longer, but also reduced their perception of pain intensity. Curse words, the study found, help you cope."
The scientists suggest that perhaps swearing triggers the body's fight-or-flight response and that it results from a "very primitive reflex that evolved in animals" (like a dog's yelp when his tail is stepped on).
Interesting. I get the dog-yelp analogy (though, admittedly, I don't get why they automatically assume the yelps "evolved"). When I stub a toe or knock my hip on a table, I certainly have an immediate urge to let out a yell. But "Oooowwwwwww, that really, really, really hurt" seems to work just fine.
I've birthed two children without anesthetic. Not a superhuman feat, I grant you, but I will put it up there with putting your hand in an ice bucket. And while being forced to repeat descriptive words about a table while laboring would have probably highly annoyed me, I don't recall feeling a primordial need to swear.
But let's just say, for argument's sake, that it did help. That swearing did absolutely and definitively reduce pain. Even then, should believers do it?
The Bible is full of directives and principles about our speech. We're to honor the name of our Lord. James reminds us that a believer should "keep a tight rein on his tongue." And praising God and cursing men with the same tongue? "My brothers, this should not be!" We're told not to let unwholesome talk come out of our mouths.
So, can cussing ever qualify as wholesome talk? Because "cuss" words differ from country to country, does that mean that they are "only words"?
In the Time article, Steven Pinker, a Harvard psychologist, recommends that we not overuse swear words in our speech or writing. "That's not because I'm a prude, but because it blunts [swear words] of their power when you do need them. You should save them for just the right occasions."
For believers, are there any right occasions?
America faces a manageable challenge: how to help a relatively small share of the population purchase health insurance. Obamacare is too big a solution chasing too small a problem -- like hunting quail with a howitzer.
So begins an article published today by the National Review Online. In "Health-Care Reform: Why Not Try Ownership?" author Deroy Murdock explains that "only about 8 million Americans are uninsured due to chronic illness or working-poor status," not the 45.7 million figure that's being thrown around by those in favor of socialized health care. He adds, "Why not help these 8 million rather than overturn medicine for all 300 million of us?"
Murdock introduces an alternative to the budget-busting health care bill currently being rammed through Congress:
Rather than endorse such big-government overkill, pro-freedom members of Congress should promote a simple concept: Let every American own and control an individual health-insurance policy that can be transported among jobs, self-employment, graduate school, and life’s other twists and turns....
Health-care reform should give Americans the option of using money tax-free to purchase whatever kinds of health insurance make them happy. If employers offer such plans, lovely. If not, individuals should be encouraged, through tax-free Health Savings Accounts, to buy their own policies and maintain them throughout their careers. This dramatically would reduce the tragedy of "job lock," whereby employees put up with bosses and duties they cannot stand, merely to keep employer-furnished health coverage.
Murdock isn't the only one promoting the value of Health Savings Accounts. Christian financial counselor Dave Ramseyis also a big proponent of them as well. Sure, HSAs won't solve all our health problems, but they could be part of the solution.
If Americans are more easily able to secure health care, outside the morass of government waste and bureaucracy, I'm all for that. And because our taxes wouldn't go up to fund the non-Christian ministry known as socialized health care, we'd be able to continue giving generously to Christian ministries such as our local churches, Compassion International, and Focus on the Family.
 Steve and I celebrated our birthdays this weekend -- we were born one day apart -- and though we're a year older and just one away from the BIG one, we noticed again that we still feel young. He still feels 19 (his grandfather felt 17 in his 70s). Me, 28. Whatever "young" age we feel year after year, despite the passage of time, we're not alone. According to USA Today, "Few see themselves as 'old,' no matter what their age."
Columnist Sharon Jayson writes,
No matter what their chronological age, most people say that they aren't yet "old" — and that they feel younger than their birthday count, according to a new nationally representative survey of almost 3,000 adults by the Pew Research Center.
According to the study, the reason for this young at heart, and in mind, feeling is the volume of people growing old (or older).
"We are becoming an older society, as are most advanced societies around the world, and we are about to hit a big new wave of adults entering older age," says Paul Taylor, who directs Pew's Social and Demographic Trends project.
The study notes that about 39 million Americans, or 13% of the U.S. population, are 65 and older — a figure that has tripled from 4% in 1900. In two years, the oldest of the nation's 76 million Baby Boomers will turn 65. And by 2050, according to Pew Research projections, about one in five Americans will be over 65, and about 5% will be ages 85 and older, up from 2% now.
And what is it that ties the newly graying population together?
Frederick Augustyn Jr. of Greenbelt, Md., who heads the Aging and Senior Culture area of the Popular Culture Association, says Baby Boomers fuel such resistance because they grew up as a youth culture and don't want to give in to old age.
The good news for Boomers is that old age isn't as bad as it's made out to be:
Among those age 65 and older, the perceived downsides of aging (such as memory loss, illness, inability to drive or an end to sexual activity) aren't experienced as much as younger people think they'll be.
Still, the survey rings hollow. I think the reason we feel young, no matter how old we get, has everything to do with what happens when aging ceases,
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end" (Ecclesiastes 3:11).
I've covered this topic before but I thought I'd update it with some new data from a CNBC.com article: Texting while driving is worse than driving drunk. Much worse.
Car and Driver Magazine tested how long it takes to hit the brakes "when sober, when legally drunk at .08, when reading an e-mail, and when sending a text." Here are the results:
- Unimpaired: .54 seconds to brake
- Legally drunk: add 4 feet
- Reading e-mail: add 36 feet
- Sending a text: add 70 feet
That's a lot of cushion required for sending a text vs. drunk driving. But as dangerous as it is, the author of the CNBC.com article fears it'll take more deaths before public opinion changes about texting and driving.
I was riveted by Kimberly Eddy's article "The Long Journey from Obesity." Her candor about something so sensitive for most women was disarming. So was her reminder that being overweight doesn't necessarily equal being unfit or inactive. Having been both fit and trim, and postpartum and flabby, I was most encouraged by her story of visiting Austria where she found that even as she enjoyed foods she loved, she returned home lighter, not heavier. She says, I've had to get beyond the fads of the dieting business and embrace
temperance in all things. Sugar isn't bad; too much sugar is bad. Fats
aren't bad; too much fat is bad. God has told us that it is good for us
to enjoy what He's given to us (Ecclesiastes 5:18), and as Christians
we should be temperate in all things (1 Corinthians 9:25).
Since that time [in Austria], I changed my dieting strategy to reflect a
healthier, more balanced diet and lifestyle. I've made it a point to
never eat while multitasking, driving or standing. I only eat if the
table is set, and I am sitting down and relaxing, including snacks.
When I shop, I always park in the back of the parking lot, and walk as
much as possible. Unless time or weather are issues, my laundry gets
hung outside, though I admit to still having trouble with that one. I
like my dryer. I'm fairly certain that I'd be kicked out of my neighborhood if I started hanging my laundry on a line in our backyard (or at least sent a firm reprimand by the zoning committee), but I love what she says about eating intentionally. Sitting at a set table. Even for snacks. It's amazing how many calories I ingest while standing in the kitchen cooking, cleaning and caring for our four children. And they're usually calories I'm too busy and distracted to even appreciate. No more. And that brings me to the second awesome article from last week: Jenny Schroedel's The Conscientious Omnivore. Her insights about eating with a grateful heart are transformational. For someone who's too often lived to eat, rather than the other (healthy) way around, both food articles from last week have given me new motivation and commitment to eating (and moving) the way God meant us to. I'm hopeful I'll get fit in the process.
I enjoy a variety of food, including meat. Lamb saag, chicken saltimbocca, spicy tuna rolls, sauerbraten, ground turkey tacos, rueben sandwiches — I love all of them. Yummo!
To be honest, though, the less I think about where it came from, the easier it is for me to ingest it. When the food reminds me too much of the animal it came from — shrimp, chicken wings, ribs, quail, osso buco — I sometimes lose my appetite.
At those times, I remind myself that eating meat has been sanctioned by God Himself. The Lord specifically told Peter to "kill and eat" a variety of animals.
Paul also affirms the eating of meat, writing that we are free to "eat whatever is sold in the meat market without raising any question on the ground of conscience." He goes on to explain:
If I partake with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of that for which I give thanks? So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.
And that's how I personally deal with my weirdness about eating certain foods: I thank the Lord for His provision, a gift that sustains me and that tastes good. And then I dig in.
Some people — certain indigenous Americans or native Hawaiians, for example — take it a step farther and express thanks to the creature itself. I've never done that, but I can appreciate how such an expression conveys the seriousness and sensitivity of the situation. An animal's life has come to an end, after all, and it strikes me as appropriate to be so resolutely grateful.
Boundless author Jenny Schroedel has wrestled with this as well, which led her to avoid eating meat for almost a decade:
I didn't like meat's texture, the color, but most especially I didn't like the idea. By the time I was in fourth grade, I lost my appetite completely.
One day, though, while serving food at a homeless shelter, she felt convicted to simply and humbly eat whatever was put before her with gratitude. And so she ate a sloppy joe.
For Jenny, her gratitude for meat has worked itself backward to a concern for the life of the animal from which the meat has come. The thankfulness she has for the food translates to a thankfulness for the life of the creature that provided it. This seems consistent with Proverbs 12:10: "A righteous man has regard for the life of his animal." Decent people want to see life treated with appropriate respect; the callous only care about their bellies.
I'm not going to join PETA. I'm not going to demean those who care for animals at large farms. I am interested to see, though, how my thankfulness for a juicy filet mignon affects my attitude toward the life that produced it. And consequently toward the One who created and provided that life in the first place.
I'm going to be honest here. I don't always get a chance to read the daily article. It's not that I don't like them. Before I started working here, I read them everyday. But by the time I've updated twitter, moderated comments, published blogs and answered emails the day's half gone and I've got to get busy with editing and archives and such. But being the resident health nut, the title of today's article caught my eye.
If you're like me and you tend to spend most of your Boundless moments on the blog, pull yourself away and read this article start to finish. In The Long Journey from Obesity Kimberly Eddy talks about her struggle with obesity. She wasn't always overweight. In fact, after five babies she still fit in her wedding dress. Not many people can say that!
Obesity is not something I ever thought I would need to deal with. I was very into natural health, eating right, and exercising. I was very prideful that after five closely spaced babies, I could still pull on my wedding dress (which I kept it in my closet, just to say I could still put it on). An accident, then a serious illness and some drug interactions later, I was suddenly obese, and no amount of dieting made the excess weight budge for several years.
I had to reach a point in my life where I decided to focus more on eating healthy, in moderation, and exercising in moderation. I made a decision to be as healthy as I could be, even if, due to these fluctuating metabolic and health problems, there was very little change on the scale or in my clothing size.
As I read about her dedication to exercise and healthy eating in spite of never seeing the results in weight loss I thought about some of our commenters here on the Line.
In the time I've been moderating your comments I've come across more than one person who, like Kimberly, is overweight because of a medical condition not lack of discipline. If you're one of those commenters, I hope you find comfort and encouragement in Kimberly's story.
Can you imagine a widespread outbreak of influenza in the United States? Can you imagine, say, a couple of hundred thousand of your neighbors having it so severe that they need to go to the hospital? And can you imagine some 36,000 of them actually die from the flu?
Yeah, that happened last year1 in the United States. And the year before. In fact, those are the average annual hospitalization and mortality numbers for the U.S. over the past decade.
Just want to put the current hysteria about "swine flu" (more accurately known as "H1N1") in perspective.
And no need to kill all your pigs, as Egypt is doing (likely an opportunistic act of aggression by the Muslim government against Coptic Christian pig farmers). As the World Health Organization notes, there is "no risk of infection from this virus from consumption of well-cooked pork and pork products." Indeed, it may be about time to stock up on ham, as prices are sure to decline.
My counsel is to not fear. Instead, do what you should do every flu season:
First and most important: wash your hands. Try to stay in good general health. Get plenty of sleep, be physically active, manage your stress, drink plenty of fluids, and eat nutritious food. Try not touch surfaces that may be contaminated with the flu virus. Avoid close contact with people who are sick.
On Saturday I completed the Country Music Half-Marathon in Nashville, Tenn. Did any of you run it? I figure there's a good chance, considering there were some 35,000 runners between the marathon and half-marathon. I got almost exactly the same time as on my last half-marathon (2:36 if you must know). But considering the 80 degree temperatures (and one truly evil hill near the end), I'm not disappointed. Not to mention, I got to run with my good friend Krishana.
There was a wonderful moment near the end of the race. After running up the final hill, I noticed a group of people. They stood at the corner cheering, waving signs and ringing cowbells. "You're looking strong," they shouted. "You're almost there." "Around the corner is all downhill." "Keep going!"
It reminded me of the cloud of witnesses mentioned in Hebrews: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us" (12:1). The writers of Scripture knew what it was like to be in a race. At that point--when the heat and fatigue and pain are conspiring against you--you really want to give up (at least I do!). You're hot and tired and the effort begins to feel like it's not worth it. But that is when the witnesses remind you: "You're almost there. Don't give up. A prize is waiting for you!"
Completing the race was an accomplishment. (You know this if you read my previous running blog post.) And, for me, it was more remarkable than for some. In 2000, due to a debilitating illness, I could barely stand from a sitting position, let alone run. I wrote about it in "Giving My Dreams." At that time, I may not have dreamed of running a half-marathon, but I dreamed of being independent, finishing school, moving out of my parents' house, getting a good job, being healthy enough to be a wife and mom someday. Those were dreams that God asked me to relinquish:
That night as I lay in bed feeling so helpless, I prayed. I realized I had been ignoring God because I believed He might ask me to do the unthinkable—drop out of school. I didn't believe that God could possibly have anything better for me than what I desired for myself.
That night as my roommate lay sleeping across the room, I agonized before the Lord. I cried out to Him in anguish. This time the solution was not in my pocket. In fact, it seemed far beyond my reach.
As tears rushed down my face, I told my Abba, Daddy, that I would drop out of college if that was His will. This was my Isaac. I knew God wanted me to give Him my future, my hopes and my dreams.
I don't know what your dreams are. Right now you may be ready to quit the race, feeling it's not worth it. Maybe you're at the bottom of that hill, and can't see an end in sight. Keep running! The witnesses are cheering you on. They have been where you are and are waiting to see what God will do in your life as you run faithfully. My witnesses were right: It was all downhill to the finish line, and it felt good to cross it.
Over the weekend I read where a California woman who caused a fatal car accident while text-messaging was sentenced to six years in prison. I shuddered. I shuddered because I've done that; I've texted while driving. I don't know that I've ever written one or tried to complete a transaction over my cell like this woman. But I've checked my email and looked at a text or two while on the road.
Turns out, I'm not alone.
According a survey from FindLaw, 48% of young adults ages 18-24 have texted while driving (and 27% of 25-34 year-olds have too). Combine that with a recent AAA study showing a four-fold increase in accidents among people who use cell-phone while driving and what you get is a whole lot of potential for what happened to driving-while-texting Deborah Matis-Engle and victim Petra Winn in Redding, CA.
I'm one of those people who're pretty good at doing two things at once, but it's impossible to keep your eyes on the road and text-message at the same time. That's why I'll keep my iPhone out of reach from now on. Because all it takes is a moment of distraction to change everything, either by ending your own life or someone else's.
When I was a boy, my allergies were so bad I carried around a handkerchief everywhere I went. It earned me the nickname "Rag." (A name my brother still calls me occasionally.) Somewhere along the way I gave up the habit of carrying a hankie. My allergies didn't improve, mind you. I just made do with allergy medicine and tissues. This method, however, proved insufficient for proper allergy attack preparedness. Inevitably, I would be caught without the means for dealing with a severe runny nose and multiple sneezes (a series of three to seven) in public places.
So a few years ago, when my wife asked me to give her birthday gift ideas, I suggested a set of handkerchiefs. I got my wish.
That's the long backstory of why I really appreciated this article from The Art of Manliness. In "Every Man Should Carry a Handkerchief," they answer the questions of 'why' and 'how' as well as address the relatively modern concern for the 'ick factor.'
Handkerchiefs are, well, pretty handy. While women carry a purse stocked with things like tissue packs (and enough supplies to survive on a desert island for several days), most men do not. And yet our noses run just as often as our female counterparts. When you carry a hankie, you don’t have to go scrounging around for a tissue to deal with your dripping shnoz or wipe your nose on your sleeve. And you can mop your brow with it when you’re sitting on the front porch drinking mint juleps. This is what I mainly use handkerchiefs for. I started the habit when I lived in Mexico and walked the hot, dusty streets of Tijuana. It’s nice to have something to wipe the sweat and dirt off your face.
For me, it's having something to sneeze into at work or in church or anywhere where there's other people. And I'm really sneezy. But even if you aren't an allergy sufferer, The Art of Manliness guys give an even better reason for carrying a handkerchief.
But the best reason to carry a handkerchief has nothing to do with you. It’s the chance to lend it to others that commends this practice the most. Be sure to put one in your pocket when you go see a tear-jerker movie with your girlfriend or accompany your wife to a funeral. When women are feeling vulnerable, they’ll really appreciate your offer of a soft hankie. It’s a gallant and chivalrous gesture; there’s just something comforting about it.
Take it from me, there's nothing like a clean, soft, well pressed and folded hankie.
I think my allergies are flaring up. Or my sinuses. Or maybe I have a cold. I'm really not sure. Being able to tell the difference must be the true benchmark for adulthood. I'm not there yet.
I'll tell you my symptoms and maybe the adults out there can diagnose me:
- Headache similar to caffeine withdrawal
- Scratchy throat
- Runny nose
- Distorted taste (My americano was not amazing this morning. I wanted to blame it on the barista, but I knew it was me.)
Please tell me I have allergies. Lie to me if you must. I don't want to miss out on fun weekend activities like hanging out with my fiance's twin sister who's visiting, Truth Project with my small group, a wedding on Saturday, and church on Sunday.
Speaking of church on Sunday, Stuff Christians Like has a hauntingly true rant about "allergies":
I don't have to give in to people that are sick and refusing to stay home. The kid gloves can come off when it's cold season and folks in your row are blowing their nose like it's an instrument they're adding to the worship experience. So how do you deal with people that come to church with a cold? I have a few ideas:
1. Wave to them during the meet and greet. During the announcements, identify anyone in your immediate area that is trying to nurse a secret cold. Look for cough drops being unwrapped and crumpled up Kleenex. Then, when the pastor says, "Turn to someone and tell them you're glad they're here" get ready to wave. The first few will be awkward, denying someone whose germ ridden hand is stuck out to you is never an easy thing, but by the third wave you'll have it down. It's also a nice way to greet the maximum number of people but that's another post for another day.
2. Don't buy the "it's just allergies" excuse. The best thing to say if you have a cold and you don't want people to know that you plan to stay home from work on Monday but insisted on coming to church on Sunday is to tell them "it’s just allergies." Sure it is. It's the dead of winter, there's not a plant species alive right now. We haven't had pollen for months, but you've got allergies. Right, you're allergic to the germs that cause the common cold. So am I. That's why I'm waving at you.
3. Bring them Kleenex. That's kind. I mean the rest of this list is jerky, but me suggesting that you bring someone else Kleenex is compassionate, right? Maybe, but this next part won't be. When you see someone trying to wipe their nose on their sleeve, hold up your box of Kleenex as if to say, "Hey sleevy, need a Kleenex?" When they shake their head yes, and this next part is critical, don't hand the tissues to them. Kick them over to their general direction with your foot. It will take a little while for you to turn into a pew Pele, but it makes no sense to wave at someone during the meet and greet and then essentially shake hands with them when you give them a Kleenex. Trust me on this one, use the foot Luke.
Ultimately, I need to print this list out and give a copy to everyone around me at church. I came to service sick a few weeks ago. But in my defense, I initiated the wave during the meet and greet, saying, "Can't shake today, I'm sick. Can't shake today, I'm sick." People seemed to appreciate that. Or they hated me. It was hard to tell through all that cold medicine I was on for my “allergies."
Yeah, I plan on being in church on Sunday, allergies and all (hopefully on time). In all seriousness, I’ll be at work on Monday (unless my allergies really do me in on Sunday night). It's been super windy here in Colorado Springs this week. Do you think the wind could have blown in some pollen?
My first confession is that I saw the movie, Confessions of a Shopaholic.
My second is that I liked it.
I confess these things knowing full well that I will be the receipient of scorn. After all, it wasn't high art. It didn't have an intricately crafted script or inventive cinematography or brilliant acting. It wasn't produced by a church. It was cotton-candy McFluff.
I have nothing to say in my defense except that every once in a while a girl just likes a cheeseburger. And, for this girl, if she can have it with a small side of financial wisdom ... all the better.
Of course, maybe, I was just thrilled, like Motte, to watch something where I didn't have to close my eyes during the course of the film. But I think, more than anything, was the fact that I could relate to Rebecca Bloomwood, the main character.
Now, I'm not a shopaholic. Much more likely I'm a debt-a-phobic. But as the opening scene unfolded, with young Rebecca's thrifty parents pleased as punch over her plain, ordinary, painfully useful brown shoes while Rebecca saw the other girls squealing with delight over their glittering pink ones, who couldn't relate? Just because I work to be debt-free, doesn't mean I don't understand the lure of pretty shoes.
As my daughter tells me when trying to explain why her favorite color is "rainbow sparkly," "it's because it's so beautiful, Mommy." We all want to be beautiful. Maybe shoes aren't our thing, but we understand the desire. It's not that we want to be runway perfect. We just want daddies who delight in us and husbands who are satisfied with us alone.
In the movie, Rebecca describes her shopping this way:
"When I shop, the world gets better, the world is better. And then it's not anymore, and I need to do it again."
And that's the problem with earthly beauty. Our shoes get scuffed. Our hair gets out of style. Our clothes wear out. Our manicures get chipped. And we have to do it all over again. Even if we do, magically, somehow get all the plates spinning together at the same time, there's still that knowledge that someday, at some time, beauty will fade.
Rebecca's solution was to buy herself into confidence. On the way to her dream job interview, she stops to buy herself a green scarf. That scarf is perfect. It makes her, she thinks, into the person she wants to be. Yes, the perfect dream job applicant would be wearig that perfect green scarf. Never mind that she has to spread the price among multiple credit cards (because they've reached their limit) and beg the final 20 bucks off the street.
But, through the story (and her out of control credit card debt), Rebecca realizes that stereotypical--but also very biblical--wisdom that money can't buy happiness, even if it is pink and glittery.
Would that I would remember that too. That I would remember that my beauty should not come from outward adornments. Instead, it be that of my inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. Of great worth in God's sight.
How does that look in daily life? After three decades on this earth, I'm still working that out. Is it important to maintain health and attractiveness for myself and my spouse? I think so. Should it be my ruling passion? Absolutely not. How do I maintain a balance? How do I make sure that clothing myself doesn't become more important than clothing the needy? How do I maintain modesty and squelch pride and self-absorption? I think, perhaps, it starts in immersing myself in God's perspective of beauty.
At the end of the movie, Rebecca repents from her high-spending ways and has a giant, designer garage sale to pay back her debt. When the movie was over, I gave a little chuckle and then headed to the store to return some new black boots. Yeah, they were on clearance. But I just didn't need them. And, all of a sudden, they just weren't that pretty anymore.
Motte's post about eating less spurred a little food-related web-browsing for me. I learned that the majority of Americans are just as lazy as I am. Not too many of us actually cook meals and even fewer use a recipe to do it. Nanci Hellmich from USA TODAY reports that:
Only four out of 10 meal preparers use a recipe at least once a week to make some kind of dish, according to the NPD Group, a market research firm, which surveyed 3,000 adults as part of its Kitchen Audit survey. That means 60% won’t use a recipe this week, says NPD’s Harry Balzer.
I broke my lazy streak last week and made two dishes that called for a recipe: baked oatmeal and balsamic vinaigrette quinoa. Both recipes were from the internet. My Macbook was open on the kitchen table. I was haphazardly sprinkling brown sugar into my keys while Pandora played Travis Cottrell in the background. It was magical. For a moment I thought, What would my grandmother think? The only thing she ever listened to in the kitchen was bacon crackling and I'm not sure she would even trust a recipe from the internet.
Americans are beginning to consume their recipes the same way they're consuming their news, the internet. Nanci goes on to say:
Over the course of a year, 90% of people will make a dish using a recipe. The most common sources: Cookbooks owned for more than two years and family and friends. However, that’s changing as more people turn to the internet for guidance in cooking, Balzer says.
Cook books are expensive. I don't even own one. I love to look at the latest Paul Dean hardback when I go to Barnes and Noble but I couldn't justify buying a whole book of recipes when I'll probably only use two or three of them. I can print out or bookmark the recipes I like online and never pay a dime.
Another reason cook books are hard to use is because they don't have recipe variations. If I want to bake cookies but I'm short a non-essential ingredient, I just browse allrecipes.com until I find a recipe that fits what I already have. Seriously, I did this with the baked oatmeal last week. And I didn't have to run to the grocery store to finish my dish.
I've been finding my recipes online for years, but it wasn't until last week that I found entire blogs devoted to delicious, creative recipes. They're appropriately called "food blogs" and they are rocking my frozen-dinner world.
One of my favorites is actually the mom blog, Pioneer Woman. Pioneer Woman lives on a ranch in Oklahoma with her Husband, Marlboro Man where she home schools her children. She's a great cook and quite a photographer. She puts a "cowboy" flare to some pretty common recipes like chicken spaghetti (my favorite casserole).
Since I'm far away from my Maw Maw's Southern cookin', I'm turning to food blogs and I'm loving it. They don't beat a handwritten recipe passed down two generations, but they do just fine. Where do you get your recipes? Cook books? Websites? Family and friends?
I dropped by McDonalds a few nights ago on the way home from work to pick up some burgers for the fam, "four hams and two quarters" the drive thru attendant confirmed. And our Mickey D's dinner was going swimmingly until my wife saw the calorie and fat gram info (549 and 28 respectively) on the side of the burger box. I said, "Don't worry about it. A quarter pounder every few months won't hurt you." She said, "I can't. I just can't." ... and then left her burger half uneaten. (Which was cool because I was still hungry.)
Ok, here's the point of that long lede: my wife's caloric consciousness may actually prevent her from getting fat. Who knew, right? According to a two-year study from the National Institutes of Health, eating fewer calories equals weight loss.
Here, the lead researcher breaks down these complex findings.
They came up with "a very simple message that cuts through all the hype: To lose weight, it comes down to how much you put in your mouth — it's not a question of eating a particular type of diet," says Frank Sacks, a lead researcher and professor of cardiovascular disease prevention at Harvard.
"It comes down to how much you put in your mouth." Hm. At what point does this story become more about wasting taxpayer dollars than it does about health and wellness?
Copyright 2009 Focus on the Family. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. The Line and Boundless Line are trademarks of Focus on the Family.
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