I did something stupid. I mean really, really stupid. You see I just had to go and write a post that was apparently pretty good. It got posted on Facebook. And re-posted, and shared and shared again, and people I didn't even know were reading it and commenting on it. Someone even said they wished someone had shared that letter with them when they were younger. Overnight, it seemed, I had five times as many people looking at that one post as I had looking at any other post.
The problem is, now I can't write. It seems I have nothing to say. Suddenly the pressure is there to improve upon my work, even if the pressure is only coming from myself. But I can't, not right now at least. It must have been a moment of inspiration that led me to speak to a girl I don't even know and who will probably never know I even thought of her. I can't fabricate inspiration. I'm not that good.
I write for fun. Most of my life I've been writing for myself. I have journals and journals full of pointless ramblings because I didn't have anything to say but wanted to say it anyways. I have short stories and dialogues and a few poems as well. I have stories in my head that could one day become a novel if I could just figure out what happens in the end. Or in the middle. Or the beginning.
Most of the stuff I wrote in order to impress people was pretty awful, I always thought. Or boring at least. Essays with five sentence paragraphs that begin and conclude thoughts nicely and neatly with just the facts and nothing more always were boring to me. To read and to write. The first time I ever had a teacher praise my work, and I mean really praise it, was when I was a senior in high school and I stopped caring about grades and simply sat at a computer and wrote what was on my mind. I don't think my teacher knew I was sarcastic until that moment and she loved it. From that moment on, I stopped trying to follow structure. I wrote for myself, and what I wanted to write about, with the occasional Greek paper as a partial exception. (I always seemed to find something I was interested in to insert into the paper.)
But for some reason I decided to write where others could see, not just my teachers. I was still writing for myself, only others could read it. Now, though, for the first time I feel the need to impress, to live up to the standard that I so foolishly set. What a mistake!
I'm going to ignore that standard and keep writing for myself. If you'd like, you may continue to read what I have to say. If you don't like it, go read some C.S. Lewis, or Orson Scott Card, two writers who, in my opinion, always live up to their own lofty standards.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
A letter to a stranger
Dear young lady trying on swimsuits today,
I wish I knew you so we could have this conversation face to face. I heard you crying and the sound broke my heart. Sometimes kids are just rude to their parents, but I know the angry words you said to yours today came from the hurt and frustration you felt as you tried suit after suit that was just too small. You may not believe it but so many of us, maybe even all of us, have had our share of meltdowns in the dressing room. One part of the body is too big, another to small, arms are too short, shoulders are too broad. Trust me, I work in clothing, I've heard it all. No one is runway-model perfect. No one. Not even the models. They usually starve themselves to look the way they do and by the time you see their picture they've been tummy-tucked even more.
But I know a secret. You are beautiful. Truly you are. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. I don't know you, but I know the one who made you and I know he doesn't make mistakes. The boys may not think it now, but you are a rare gem, a beauty beyond measure. Your inner self is made in the image of the most beautiful being ever. I know its frustrating to not be the way you want to be or to be the way the world thinks you should be but don't let that define you. The girls who let that define them become obsessive, anorexic, fake. The real you is too exquisite to hide. I know many beautiful women. Few of them have "the perfect body."
Being a teenager is so hard. Every mean comment takes up residence in your brain, every heartbreak feels like a black hole, every imperfection feels like its being posted on a big screen for the world to see. I hope you know the truth, the author of the truth, because only he can really show you how valuable you are. Don't let one bad day buying swimsuits influence the image you see in the mirror.
The Lord and Creator of all things loves you and calls you his child. That is all you need. He thinks you're pretty special and beautiful beyond compare.
I wish I knew you so we could have this conversation face to face. I heard you crying and the sound broke my heart. Sometimes kids are just rude to their parents, but I know the angry words you said to yours today came from the hurt and frustration you felt as you tried suit after suit that was just too small. You may not believe it but so many of us, maybe even all of us, have had our share of meltdowns in the dressing room. One part of the body is too big, another to small, arms are too short, shoulders are too broad. Trust me, I work in clothing, I've heard it all. No one is runway-model perfect. No one. Not even the models. They usually starve themselves to look the way they do and by the time you see their picture they've been tummy-tucked even more.
But I know a secret. You are beautiful. Truly you are. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. I don't know you, but I know the one who made you and I know he doesn't make mistakes. The boys may not think it now, but you are a rare gem, a beauty beyond measure. Your inner self is made in the image of the most beautiful being ever. I know its frustrating to not be the way you want to be or to be the way the world thinks you should be but don't let that define you. The girls who let that define them become obsessive, anorexic, fake. The real you is too exquisite to hide. I know many beautiful women. Few of them have "the perfect body."
Being a teenager is so hard. Every mean comment takes up residence in your brain, every heartbreak feels like a black hole, every imperfection feels like its being posted on a big screen for the world to see. I hope you know the truth, the author of the truth, because only he can really show you how valuable you are. Don't let one bad day buying swimsuits influence the image you see in the mirror.
The Lord and Creator of all things loves you and calls you his child. That is all you need. He thinks you're pretty special and beautiful beyond compare.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Merry Christmas Ransom Church!
This weekend has been...well...hard. Five years ago this weekend a good friend died in a skiing accident. Four years ago this same weekend I witnessed someone die for the first (and so far, only) time. On Friday a small private plane crashed taking off from the airport here and killed all three passengers and the pilot. One of the men in the plane went to our church. I didn't know him well but his family, members of my church family, are hurting right now, and my heart aches for them. Logic tells me that there is nothing cursed about the second weekend of December, but still, every time it comes around, I find myself holding my breath just a little.
Despite all the negativity associated with this weekend, this year another significant chapter in my life begins. This time it is something good. Very good. This weekend was the very last weekend that the Ransom Church will ever meet in a movie theater. Several months ago we bought a building and next week we meet for the very first time in that building. God's got such a great sense of humor on the timing of that one, doesn't he? "Merry Christmas guys! I got you a building!" I'm sure I'm going get some fantastic gifts this year, but its sure going to be hard to top that one.
I can't tell you how unbelievably excited I am for this new building, but there is definitely a taste of the bitter mixed with the sweet. Even though it has been called "the fifth most ghetto place in Sioux Falls," God has done some amazing things from that movie theater. He has changed lives. He has brought new followers to him, brought runaways back, and given new purpose to those who love him but were beginning to forget what it was all about. I began my time here in Sioux Falls fascinated by a group of people who dared to call a theater a holy place. I stayed because, though imperfect, they love like God loves. I know you can find that in many, many churches, including countless here in Sioux Falls, but it was this body of believers who became family. So when I say I was a little sad to walk out of that place today for the last time as a church, you'll understand that it is because God was there.
Great thing is, God already parked himself at the corner of 3rd and Main long ago. He had this place picked out long before we saw it, envisioned ourselves in it, or dreamed it would ever be possible to own. He has a purpose for us here and I know I am not the only one who is ridiculously excited to see what it is. Its a little sad to see the old place go, but it doesn't even hold a candle to how happy I am to call the new one home.
Despite all the negativity associated with this weekend, this year another significant chapter in my life begins. This time it is something good. Very good. This weekend was the very last weekend that the Ransom Church will ever meet in a movie theater. Several months ago we bought a building and next week we meet for the very first time in that building. God's got such a great sense of humor on the timing of that one, doesn't he? "Merry Christmas guys! I got you a building!" I'm sure I'm going get some fantastic gifts this year, but its sure going to be hard to top that one.
I can't tell you how unbelievably excited I am for this new building, but there is definitely a taste of the bitter mixed with the sweet. Even though it has been called "the fifth most ghetto place in Sioux Falls," God has done some amazing things from that movie theater. He has changed lives. He has brought new followers to him, brought runaways back, and given new purpose to those who love him but were beginning to forget what it was all about. I began my time here in Sioux Falls fascinated by a group of people who dared to call a theater a holy place. I stayed because, though imperfect, they love like God loves. I know you can find that in many, many churches, including countless here in Sioux Falls, but it was this body of believers who became family. So when I say I was a little sad to walk out of that place today for the last time as a church, you'll understand that it is because God was there.
Great thing is, God already parked himself at the corner of 3rd and Main long ago. He had this place picked out long before we saw it, envisioned ourselves in it, or dreamed it would ever be possible to own. He has a purpose for us here and I know I am not the only one who is ridiculously excited to see what it is. Its a little sad to see the old place go, but it doesn't even hold a candle to how happy I am to call the new one home.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Christmas is Weird
The last few posts have been serious and I'm ready for a little fun. So tonight I'm going to write about how absolutely weird Christmas is. The Christmas tree is on. The stocking is being raided early (yes, I already have candy in there. Resse's. A gift from a sweet friend. Get it? Sweet? Candy? Don't worry, its funny, because I am hilarious.) The fireplace DVD is on. So is the "Christian Contemporary Christmas" station on Pandora. "Christian" to ensure I hear at least a few carols and in hope that I don't hear "Winter Wonderland" or "Let it Snow" in ANY annoying version again today. I am officially being as Christmas-y as possible without actually breaking out the ugly sweater because that is way too good to waste on an evening alone.
So here we go, my top 7 reasons that Christmas is weird:
1. The word Yule. I just don't get it. And what even is a yule log? Or yuletide? Or wassail? Or figgy pudding?
2. Christmas music. Obviously. I work in retail, I'm allowed to be slightly Grinch-like about this. Especially when we listen to the same 8 songs in 12 different versions every day! And especially when the people who made the playlist did dumb things like choose the 12 second version of the Dahoo-Dores song from the Grinch instead of the full song from the end of the movie. (By the way, did you know its actually daHoo and not daVoo. I didn't. Until now.) Maybe this is why my favorite song at work is "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch." But even taking all Grinchiness out of it, think about how weird it is. What other holiday has an entire genre of music? Take Valentine's day. "But we need a little Valentine's. Right this very minute. Roses at my doorstep. Chocolate wrapped in paper." It just doesn't work.
3. Romance. Can somebody please explain to me how Christmas went from being about the salvation of mankind to how important it is to be kissing under the mistletoe? We have mistletoe in our apartment and I can assure you it doesn't work, to begin with. And what's so romantic about the cold anyways? We sing about romantic sleigh rides but who has even ridden in a sleigh? Do they even exist anymore? I guess it would be romantic to snuggle up with the portable furnaces that men tend to be but seriously, when I'm outside in December, I'm usually not thinking, "Hey, let's stare into each other's eyes for a minute." Its usually, "Get me inside before I learn that it actually is possible for eyeballs to freeze."
4. Presents. Okay, maybe when we were kids it made more sense. Kids don't make money, so giving them gifts is perfectly acceptable. But what about when we are older? Half the time we just give each other gift cards anyways. Its like my dad said, "Why don't I just go and get a hundred dollar bill and give it to mom, who can pass it to one kid, to the next, to the next and so on and I'll get it back and put it back in the bank. Merry Christmas! In fact, let's just make it a thousand!" That's kinda what gift cards are. I know, I know, the idea is to give a gift that they wouldn't normally get themselves but how often do we put that much thought into it? Maybe I'm just jaded by seeing so many lists where the child has cut out pictures and demanded that they get that exact one. You wouldn't believe how many people come in only to find that the exact color requested isn't in stock and then get on the phone and ask the child who is getting the gift what would be an acceptable alternative. Seriously? Whatever happened to surprises and giving out of love and not obligation?
5. Increased Donations at Christmas. I get its the end of the year and all that tax-deductible whatever, plus I'm sure many people give out of the generosity of their hearts from their Christmas bonuses and I know organizations aren't crying about the budget-boosting, but don't people know that people are hungry in January too? That is all.
6. Fireplace DVDs. I love my fireplace DVD. Too much probably. And I know its all in my head, but I do feel warmer when its on. And if you don't have one, you should get one. Check Walgreens. Got mine for $2 there last year and its the best thing that's ever happened to Sunday Night Hot Drinks. But I admit it. Its super weird.
7. Green and Red. Pink and red. Red, white, and blue. Orange and Black. Who picks these colors anyway?
Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. Sometimes I repeat that phrase over and over to myself between clenched teeth to remember that Christmas isn't about rude customers who snap their fingers at you like a dog, or who blame you for the fact that what they want isn't real or that it is real but costs too much. I love Christmas. (almost as much as I love the song that just came on. I Celebrate the Day by Relient K. Good job Pandora.) I even love most parts of the things I talked about above. Mistletoe may not create romantic magic, but it certainly creates hilarious moments. As my sister would say, "You say weird as if its a bad thing."
I guess it makes sense though, seeing where the holiday gets its origins. God as a baby, born to die? Weirdest thing I ever heard of. Awesome, but weird.
So here we go, my top 7 reasons that Christmas is weird:
1. The word Yule. I just don't get it. And what even is a yule log? Or yuletide? Or wassail? Or figgy pudding?
2. Christmas music. Obviously. I work in retail, I'm allowed to be slightly Grinch-like about this. Especially when we listen to the same 8 songs in 12 different versions every day! And especially when the people who made the playlist did dumb things like choose the 12 second version of the Dahoo-Dores song from the Grinch instead of the full song from the end of the movie. (By the way, did you know its actually daHoo and not daVoo. I didn't. Until now.) Maybe this is why my favorite song at work is "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch." But even taking all Grinchiness out of it, think about how weird it is. What other holiday has an entire genre of music? Take Valentine's day. "But we need a little Valentine's. Right this very minute. Roses at my doorstep. Chocolate wrapped in paper." It just doesn't work.
3. Romance. Can somebody please explain to me how Christmas went from being about the salvation of mankind to how important it is to be kissing under the mistletoe? We have mistletoe in our apartment and I can assure you it doesn't work, to begin with. And what's so romantic about the cold anyways? We sing about romantic sleigh rides but who has even ridden in a sleigh? Do they even exist anymore? I guess it would be romantic to snuggle up with the portable furnaces that men tend to be but seriously, when I'm outside in December, I'm usually not thinking, "Hey, let's stare into each other's eyes for a minute." Its usually, "Get me inside before I learn that it actually is possible for eyeballs to freeze."
4. Presents. Okay, maybe when we were kids it made more sense. Kids don't make money, so giving them gifts is perfectly acceptable. But what about when we are older? Half the time we just give each other gift cards anyways. Its like my dad said, "Why don't I just go and get a hundred dollar bill and give it to mom, who can pass it to one kid, to the next, to the next and so on and I'll get it back and put it back in the bank. Merry Christmas! In fact, let's just make it a thousand!" That's kinda what gift cards are. I know, I know, the idea is to give a gift that they wouldn't normally get themselves but how often do we put that much thought into it? Maybe I'm just jaded by seeing so many lists where the child has cut out pictures and demanded that they get that exact one. You wouldn't believe how many people come in only to find that the exact color requested isn't in stock and then get on the phone and ask the child who is getting the gift what would be an acceptable alternative. Seriously? Whatever happened to surprises and giving out of love and not obligation?
5. Increased Donations at Christmas. I get its the end of the year and all that tax-deductible whatever, plus I'm sure many people give out of the generosity of their hearts from their Christmas bonuses and I know organizations aren't crying about the budget-boosting, but don't people know that people are hungry in January too? That is all.
6. Fireplace DVDs. I love my fireplace DVD. Too much probably. And I know its all in my head, but I do feel warmer when its on. And if you don't have one, you should get one. Check Walgreens. Got mine for $2 there last year and its the best thing that's ever happened to Sunday Night Hot Drinks. But I admit it. Its super weird.
7. Green and Red. Pink and red. Red, white, and blue. Orange and Black. Who picks these colors anyway?
Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. Sometimes I repeat that phrase over and over to myself between clenched teeth to remember that Christmas isn't about rude customers who snap their fingers at you like a dog, or who blame you for the fact that what they want isn't real or that it is real but costs too much. I love Christmas. (almost as much as I love the song that just came on. I Celebrate the Day by Relient K. Good job Pandora.) I even love most parts of the things I talked about above. Mistletoe may not create romantic magic, but it certainly creates hilarious moments. As my sister would say, "You say weird as if its a bad thing."
I guess it makes sense though, seeing where the holiday gets its origins. God as a baby, born to die? Weirdest thing I ever heard of. Awesome, but weird.
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