If I really gave a damn . . .

I would do something. I would be something. More than just talk. More than just printing articles off the internet or Tivoing a special on TV.

Happy World AIDS Day. Happy day to give a damn about something that is killing off whole populations. One child every minute. Too many women--mothers--to count. Women have no rights in Africa--

Wait a minute! Africa? Africa?! Who cares about them, right? They're not even people, are they? Not like we are, anyway. Besides, it's probably best for them to die, because they're nothing to us. Wipe out the whole continent, and let us just forget it ever existed.

Yeah. There's a solution. Except they are. They are something to us. They have to be. Because if they aren't, then we're dangerously close to being nothing ourselves. Besides, they must be something to someone.

Whole families are being wiped off the planet. There are too many funerals to properly mourn even one life lost. There are too many graves to mark. People are being forgotten. It's as if they never even existed. Imagine that.

But I know your name. I hear your pain. I desperately long to draw you into my arms and wake up with you in another world where this agony is just a long-distant nightmare. Where it isn't real. Where it doesn't exist. Oh, God . . . if you were mine.

So Happy World AIDS Day. Happy day to give a damn about people who are nothing to us but everything to someone. The world to someone.

Heard On This Side of the Rapids

So a family in our church was talking about what their children, 10 and 6, want to be when they grow up. Grace, the 10 year old going on 35, said that she wanted to be scientist, and she went on and on about what she would accomplish. The parents listened and then asked Grace's 6-year-old-brother, Sam, the same question.

"I want to be the corner," Sam said, excitedly.

"The corner?" Understandably, his parents were confused.

"Yeah! The Corner!! You know, that guy who plays the guitar for the band that Grace loves?"

Ah, yes. It was then that the family remembered the U2 marathon from the week before.

Five Years Ago Today.

. . . My heart was breaking. What a year 2001 was. I wish for all the world that I could forget the days of that year, and yet I pray with all my heart that I never do. The things we learned that year changed our lives forever. We endured so much that year, and we learned that we are survivors.

Five years ago today was just over five months after Beau and I separated . . . and just over four months after we reconciled. Praise God for His blessings and provision for our marriage. The cross was for our restoration.

Five years ago today was just under four months since we received a phone call telling us that the twin brother of our best friend had died. Praise God for His sustaining peace that somehow carries us through horrors. The cross was for our grief.

Five years ago today was 2 1/2 weeks after another horrible phone call revealed that my darling cowboy cousin had been killed. Praise God for His wisdom and plans which are greater than us--even when they seem insane. The cross was for our anger.

Five years ago today was five days after I first cradled my niece in my arms, hopeful that the world would somehow continue. Praise God for His beauty and the newness of promise in the eyes of a newborn . . . where you can see His reflection. The cross was for our humility.

Five years ago today I sat paralyzed. Cursing what was happening. In shock. Numb to the world. Aching for friends. Confused. Weary. Shaking a fist at God. From His lap. Pounding my fists on His chest. Crying myself dry. Horrified at what might happen next. Afraid to watch but too in shock to turn away. Awestruck at humanity and mortality and the smallness of who I am. The cross was for more than we can comprehend.

I know you bore our sorrows
I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less even if it could be explained
I know that I am only lashing out at the one who loves me most
And after I have figured this, somehow all I really need to know is if

You who live in eternity
hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can’t see what’s ahead and
we cannot get free of what we’ve left behind
I’m reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret
I can’t see how you’re leading me unless you’ve led me here
Where I’m lost enough to let myself be led
And so, you’ve been here all along I guess
It’s just your ways and you are just plain hard to get
- Rich Mullins, "Hard to Get"

"You can't conceive, nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God." - Graham Greene

Remind me one more time.

Our pastor is preaching through a series he has entitled "The Gospel According to Moses." He's a good preacher, and there is a lot packed into Exodus and Moses, so it has been a good series. This week kicked my butt.

The first commandment is "Thou shalt have no other God's before me." (It's just better with the "Thee" and the "Thou.") Pastor Tim went on to talk about how that is the first commandment, and there is a very good reason for it. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it hit me. It isn't just the most important commandment, but it is the foundation for everything. Why, if God really was the only and most important god in my life, then I could keep every single one of those other nine commandments. And be a good person besides. The following nine commandments are all rooted in idolatry. Well, holy shit. Now what?

Through Pastor Tim's words, I came to realize that every major stumbling block in my life is rooted in idolatry. My problems with eating and spending. My critical nature. My judgmental spirit. My bitterness. My laziness. All of it. Oh, to make God first in my life. Oh, to find success. Oh, to truly be a city on a hill. A new creation that stems beyond the part of salvation that is for me alone.

Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift! For He bears us on eagles' wings, regardless of the obedience. But the special treasure part comes from the obedience. Thank God He doesn't make it contingent upon continued obedience.

No wonder I got tears in my eyes at the final stanza of "A Church's One Foundation."
Mid toil and tribulation, and tumult of her war,
She waits the consummation of peace forevermore,
Till with the vision glorious her longing eyes are blest,
And the great church victorious shall be the church at rest.

Amen. I wish we still ended all of our hymns with that sweet word.

Inspired by a lack of inspiration

I just got back from Pizza Hut. Let's not talk about how not on the diet that visit was. I did get to see the California Kroondyks and the darling Chicago Mark . . . oh, I miss him. That part of the visit was definitely on the diet.

Then I came home and got online--to look for a new job and get the church softball schedules. But then I started visiting my favorite blogs, and I realized that it's been too many days since I checked some of the those out. (Sorry, WMW.) It's inspiring to me to read what people have to say. So here are my randomly inspired thoughts for the day:

I don't keep the monitor turned up very high, because the clicking of the baby swing gets annoying. I was watching the lights fill up the monitor and thinking that there was no way that the baby was screaming that loudly. Then I realized it was the children outside. They better not wake the baby.

I need to somehow reclaim my life. When I really think about what is consuming it, I am forced to realize that it isn't the baby. It's laziness. I simply must do something for me. Maybe I'll make a list about it.

My mom asked me why I was reading a certain book over the weekend. She asked if it was for a class. When did I get so old that I read books intended only for educational consumption?

Anderson Cooper recently asked, or rather I recently read that he asked, why we care about the weather in Houston when we live thousands of miles away. That's an interesting question. Is it really fair to say that I'm just being "global" in my caring when it probably just becomes another obssession and reason to lie around watching the telly?

Happy 25th birthday, HIV/AIDS. Oh, how grand the world would be without you.

Hippy Pappy Bthdy

So it's my birthday tomorrow. I'll be 29. I'm not too worried. Now 25? That was a hard year. But 29? Nah. Piece of cake. Or rather, piece of apple crisp ala mode, if I'm lucky. I'm excited about 29, though I'm not sure why.

I have my birthday money all mentally spent, and I can't wait to enjoy my new purchases. I also know that my husband and my sweet baby girl have some fun things for me. Since I love getting new things, birthdays and I get along quite well. I also love the wisdom (cough) and experiences that each new year brings, so I have never been too concerned with growing older. Well, except for 25. I hit a major quarter-life crisis at that point. I think it was because I noticed a number of gray hairs on my head, my husband was still in college, and there was no baby cradle in my house. I felt like so much was missing from my life . . .

Now 29 is fast approaching. And I'm excited about what this year will bring. Not just the new toys to clutter my house or the new books to add to my already-too-long book list, but the deeper things that seem to matter more the older you get. I'm excited for Ellie to learn to walk, I'm excited to explore Maine and NYC and Boston, I'm excited to learn more about who I'm becoming.

This is a good life, the one I get to live. And there is plenty to be excited about. Including that apple crisp.

I Thessalonians 4:13-14.

A dear saint from our church died last week Wednesday. That was the same day that my grandpa would have turned 96 years old. Grandpa has been gone for 7 1/2 years now. But it doesn't stop hurting, really. It's just a new hurt.

We spent Tuesday evening with Jerry. He sat across the table from us at an auction, and he kept saying that he should be allowed to bid on Ellie since she was there. By the end of the night, I told him that I would PAY him to take Ellie. I was joking, of course, but he would gladly have taken her. When we were leaving, I said, "See you Sunday." He said, "Yes. See you Sunday."

Then, on Wednesday, he died. I saw him Sunday, all right, but he didn't see me.

Over the last few days, things that we said to each other in our short time of friendship have been creeping back into my mind. He loved that I sang on the worship team. He loved my daughter. He loved to laugh. He loved to sing--loud. Just like me. Tuesday night, we were eating dessert, and he was loving his strawberry cake. He looked at my German chocolate cake and asked, "Is that coconut on top?" I looked down and said, "Yes. And it's great."

What a strange thing to remember.

I think the thing that has hit me the most is that I was distracted on Tuesday night. When I spent time with Jerry, I didn't know that it was the last time we'd spend together. I didn't know that we should spend our time saying more than how great our desserts were. I figured we'd have other time to talk about how much we meant to each other. Instead, I told his wife after his funeral. I was eating dessert then, too. But there wasn't coconut on top. I wonder if German chocolate cake will always be to me Jerry's dessert.

You may say I'm a dreamer.

Would you say that I'm a dream chaser? That whole concept is tricky. I think the first place to start is to figure out if the dreams are even yours to chase. But how do you know? I mean, I don't want to waste my time chasing Beau's dreams or Ellie's dreams or even Rob Bell's dreams. I want to chase my own. My own.

I want to do something for me. Is that selfish?

Probably not. At least not if my dreams are meant to benefit others in some way. But what if my dreams are selfish? Somehow self-serving? What then? And what if other people think my dreams are silly? Are they still worth dreaming? Or, for that matter, chasing?

It sure is easier to just live life, without the dreaming. The dreaming makes it confusing. But, as the pioneer woman said about her quilt making, "I make them warm to keep my family from freezing. And I make them beautiful to keep my heart from breaking." Yes. I dream to keep my heart from breaking.

To be loved. There is nothing greater.

Il m'aime.

Merci. Je suis humilié.

Mon Dieu.

To call it JOY

I'm oh, so tired today. How can that time change thing kick my butt so badly?! Sheesh.

So this morning I was wearing a tank top--far too revealing for what I currently weigh, but I was at home and it was my pajamas--and I picked Ellie up from the floor where she'd been lying while she drank her bottle. I held her upright while she burped, and then I jumped us up and over to the high chair for the second course of her breakfast. It was odd that I felt something warm on my chest, so I looked down to see her spit up running inside of my tank top. Nice.

It's windy today. I have a great desire to galavant along the beach. Unfortunately it's also raining today. I'll probably stay inside.

Have I mentioned that I'm tired? I am. But I've gotten plenty of sleep, I think, and it's not that kind of tired anyway. I'm tired of the news. I'm tired of the negativity. I'm tired of feeling like nothing exciting happens in my life. I'm tired of thinking that I don't fully exist. I'm tired of not living. I'm tired of not getting things done even though I want to do them. I'm tired of not losing any weight. I'm tired of this life I'm living. If you can even call it that. I want to live a new life. I want to live the life that God has given me. I want to live. Yes. I want to attack this life with the energy that Ellie attacks her bottles and me when I pick her up from the baby sitter. I want to realize that I can't play with my toys fast enough.

I think that Ellie and I will go for a walk when she wakes up. We might even go to the beach.

Oh, God.

The locusts are singing
The sun is red
It’s gotten so late somehow
There’s gonna be trouble
You know what they said
We should have been home by now
We should have been home by now
The thunder is rolling
The sky is black
It’s gotten so dark somehow
There’s gonna be danger
God I wish were back
We should have been home by now
We should have been home by now
"Home By Now" - Meatloaf

I am so, so tired.

Overheard on this side of the Rapids

"But I don't WANNA take a nap!!"
(Ellie Grace McDowell, translated by Mama)

The most profound thing ever . . .

"See, that's the thing. People are dumb."
- RMMcDowell, in response to yet another comment from Beau during the local news

Before you knew me, I was a fairy princess

My life is beautiful. No. It's beyond beautiful. My daughter is yelling and chattering from the next room. She's learning what her voice can do besides make Mommy giggle at the little chuckles and gurgles that flow forth. My wonderful and amazing husband is on his way home from work so that I can go to worship practice at a church that we love and that loves us back. I have a warm house and a flexible job that allows me to be home with my gurggler and a car that takes me where I need to go and where I don't need to go. My family loves me. I have more friends than I realize. My life is beautiful.

And yet . . .

Why am I so dissatisfied all the time? Do I want something more because the almighty society tells me I want more? Or do I really and honestly want more? Is my longing because I dislike where I am? Or is it because I know I'm not where I'll end up?

I've been mentoring Nicki again lately. She's lost, and so she approached me to help her find direction. As if I have any myself! And yet, miraculously, she found it. Sort of. She figured out who she is, and she realized that she doesn't need to know anything more than that. She claims that I taught it to her, but I figure that you can't teach what you don't know, so she got it from somewhere else. I just feel so out of place all the time, and I don't know where I fit. So I know it wasn't me who taught her how to see beyond what she wants to be or even what she sees herself as so that she can grab hold of who she is. It couldn't have been me.

You may say that I'm a dreamer, and I hope I'm not the only one. But it often feels like I am. Like everyone else is happy trudging along in their comfortable lives, while I'm straining against the ropes, eager to move on. I'm more than this. I'm more than Grand Rapids. I'm more than sitting at this desk, pouring my thoughts out through my fingertips. I have to be. Because this beautiful life isn't enough for me. I'm not satisfied with it. And I don't want to feel like I have to be.

I want Ellie to know that before she knew me, I was a fairy princess. I caught frogs and called them prince and made myself a queen and travelled around the world and slept in castles and fell in love because I was taught to dream. I caught fireflies and knew, just knew, that they were really Tinkerbell, trapped in my jar, eager to sprinkle fairy dust on me so I could fly. And that's a good thing.

Things are a bit limited . . .

I'm still working on Wendy's retrospective, but this seems a bit quicker.

Four jobs that I have had in my life:
1. paper girl
2. whatever you call someone who works in a meat department, separating frozen chicken legs and thighs
3. cashier at Erb Lumber
4. receptionist at State Farm (I loved that job . . . I did my homework or read!)

Four movies I could watch over and over:
1. The Goonies
2. Say Anything
3. Dogma
4. Footloose

Four Places I've Lived:
1. Grand Rapids, Michigan
2. Oxnard, California
3. Antigua
4. Duncan, British Columbia

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:
1. House
2. CSI
3. NUM3RS
4. random shows on The History Channel

Four Websites I Visit Daily:
1. www.xanga.com/FunnyWriterGirl
2. www.google.com
3. www.bankone.com
4. http://prose-and-cons.blogspot.com/

Four of My Favorite Foods:
1. potatoes of any kind
2. Pizza Hut Pan Pizza with pineapple, mushrooms, and ham
3. prime rib
4. oatmeal

Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
1. St. Bart's
2. the west coast
3. the Mediterranean
4. in bed

Four People I Will Tag:
1. Wendy
2, 3, & 4 well, since i only know Greta and Wendy, and Greta has already done it, that's all i got!

And now my random observations:
1. Neat opportunities are cool. I wonder if it is an opportunity.
2. Teething must suck for babies. It sure sucks for me!!

I hate that stupid thing!

There is really very little that is more intimidating than that stupid black cursor blinking on an otherwise white space. How the heck am I supposed to know what to fill the space with? There's a reason that they call it a "cursor." That's what I become when I see it. What a joke.

WMW mentioned blogging my novel. It sounded like a good idea until I discovered that the #@*$ cursor is still here. So now that idea is out, too. You better find something else to read, WMW, because otherwise you'll be bored in ten years! Nah. I'll just find a typewriter. There's no cursor there. Or a journal and a pen. Now there's a novel idea. Novel, indeed.

It's in my head . . . gotta get it out. Gotta get it out. It'll happen one day. It really will. Now on to something fun.

By the way, hi. This is nicer than the other one.