@ some another point

At some point, we decide to hope.

At another point, we decide to relocate that hope.

At some point, we sustain the wound.

At another point, we realize the wound has closed.

At some point, we reconsider problems we already solved.

At some point, we can recite the formula from memory.

At some point, we cry. 

At another point, we laugh.

At some point, we save that special pic on our phone.

At another point, we decide it's best to un-save it.

At some point, we freeze amidst uncertainty.

At another point, we make up our minds.

At some point, we toil.

At another point, we find our limit.

At some point, we let it go.

At another point, we make it let us go.

 

At some point, we want to be asked.

At another point, we want to avoid being asked.

At some point, we want a hug.

At another point, we want the hug to end.

At some point, we get another swing at a pitch.

At another point, the game's over.

At some point, we scheme and plan.

At another point, we lay down the swords we carry.

 

if the shoes don't fit

[Readers, I exclusively shop online for clothing. In addition to this, I rarely (if ever) purchase new clothing; I prefer previously-owned stuff. Make of that what you will; it's essential for the following story.]

 

A pair of shoes I'd long desired once came across my feed. It was as though the heavens opened when I saw they were available.

Was the pair in my size? YES. 

Was the price reasonable? YES. 

Did the seller include a picture of the soles (I check tread wear before buying)? YES. 

Were the shoes void of obvious gouges and/or damages? YES.

 

From viewing the listing, these shoes met my hopes for what I wanted. So, I purchased them. 

 

Oh goodness, they looked sharp when I opened the package. Wore them to work, happy to find shoes that looked decent. But as I walked around that day, I noticed they began rubbing savagely against my heels. Blisters formed. "That's not good," I thought.

 

So I took the shoes to get professionally stretched (more on this below). Paid $20, and went to pick them up one week later. Sometimes this intervention works! I wanted them to fit. 

 

But it didn't work this time. To continue to wear these shoes would perpetually blister my heels. I couldn't walk normal while wearing those shoes. So they don't work for me.

 

This can also apply to relationships. Someone may -- at first impression -- look as though they have what you look for in a companion.

 

Similar values? YES.

Easy to talk with? YES. 

Easy on the eyes? YES.

Interested in you? YES. 

 

So you settle in to a relationship. 

It's cool at first, or maybe even for awhile. 

But eventually, cracks start to show. The friction starts to cause some blisters.

 

They almost always resist accepting any blame for how they contributed to a problem. Or they expect you to read their mind to detect what's bothering them, instead of them just verbalizing their perceptions. Or they're often inconsiderate of your time and commitments. Or they continually cancel last-minute. Or they're slow to de-prioritize contact with previous relationship partners. Or they treat your stuff they borrow (clothes, a car, technology) with a lack of care. Or they constantly push your stated boundaries. Or you end up getting dragged into much arguing over inconsequential, little things.

And maybe you've heard that relationships take hard work, and you think "Well, learning to accept with this sort of behavior could be part of what it means that relationships can be hard work, I guess."

 

Perhaps. 

 

But another principle exists when it comes to dating: you will get what you tolerate. 

 

If there's some way your partner tends to responds to you or treats you that doesn't sit well with you, it's wise to address it early (and by 'address it', I mean initiating a talk with the other person where you're respectful, clear, and proportional to the situation). Otherwise, the pattern will continue. A weed left alone continues to grow in a garden. A shoe too tight on a foot continues to blister.

 

This doesn't necessarily mean ending the relationship with the person over these issues. Nor does it mean making an issue out of every annoyance. But it does mean being clear about addressing problematic patterns of relating.

 

The nice part about respectfully, consistently standing up for yourself is that it helps you repel selfish people. It also motivates inattentive, poorly-disciplined people to grow in consideration for others.

There's a version of you that's both your best and your most truthful. It's the version of you that shows itself when you're in the places and around the people where you feel safest. And there's a way that the people that love you the most influence you to be a better person while also genuinely, unconditionally enjoying who you are in the present. You basically want that sort of vibe in a relationship too -- someone who wants you as you are, and who wants to help you grow but they're not necessarily the teacher.

 

(And, don't be someone you're not to gain someone's love. More on that at another time.)

 

I tried on another pair of shoes that I liked. 

 

They didn't fit quite right either. 

 

I considered my options, then purchased sole inserts to see if that'd alleviate the problem. It did! Now I can walk in them without issue. A chance to adapt worked out nicely. This too can apply to relationships.

  

 

 

How to Stretch Shoes for a Perfect Fit 

 

Jesus loves me, but does he like me?

Ah, love. We find so, so many ways to confuse ourselves about this vital topic.

We devour sappy, lyrically suspect songs about love. 

We (the royal we, the editorial 'we') purchase loads of fiction stories of love lost and regained. We watch shows with such titles as 'Love Island' or 'the Bachelorette', even though we know the premise has little to do with actual love.

(when I said 'we' watch such shows, I definitely meant more 'you' than 'me).

Still for some of us, 'love' has infuriatingly, maddeningly, wrongly been the premise for some sort of unloving-type control or mis-use of us. Many of us, quite reasonably, have discerned that someone can love us, but not particularly like us. Some of our parents have loved us in ways we feel loved ... and also that we're an annoyance, a burden. Love has been made to feel like some obligation we're owed, but don't really want. "Who needs enemies when you have friends like this?"

So, when we hear that God is love ... that God 'loves' you, and 'loves' me ... we can (understandably) react with wary confusion. 

"So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him." -1 John 4:16

What is that sort of love from God? Is it the sort of love that includes some side orders of anxiety, control, hectoring, manipulation? Is this is a love that gives the silent treatment if I say the wrong thing the wrong way, or don't text back in a reasonable amount of time?

Thankfully, no.

There's a sort of love that delights with someone or something just because it is. Just because it exists. There's a sort of love that because it loves, it also likes/delights in/finds funny/genuinely enjoys/appreciates being around.

You're not a rehab project to our Lord. You're not an investment of under-realized gains. He's not tapping his foot impatiently. He doesn't get mad when you spill the cup of water on the dinner table. When we look at our lives and see scattered debris of minimal progress here and there, we can't presume that Jesus sees us this way too.

"The Lord is merciful and gracious."

our sweet boy

"To his dog, every man is Napoleon. Hence the constant popularity of dogs." -A. Huxley

My family dog died this past weekend. A part of us knew this was imminent. Yet admitting this seemed to break our hearts extra wide open. Why does it ache so much? Why can't I stop from crying at random times throughout a day? Why does it feel emptier than normal at the house

 

It's love separated by death. That's why. This is not how it's supposed to be.

We adopted him as a rescue more than 10 years ago.

I'm confident that other life experiences will hurt us as much as the death of a family pet. But I'm also confident that it's uniquely, distinctly desolating to say goodbye to a pet.

My mom often says that there's few things on this earth more symbolic of God's love for his people than how dogs particularly love their owners (I can't speak about cats as pets, or reptiles, or any other animal, so I won't speculate -- I'm sure they also provide love and affection in palpable ways).

How did this dog demonstrate such love for me, and my family, that it'd remind me of God's love?

-He always wanted to be near us. It didn't matter how long it'd been since we last showered, or if we'd brushed our teeth yet that morning. Wherever we were, that's where he wanted to be. God is like that too. We're never somewhere that he's not willing to come to where we are to be with us.

-Our dog's love and affection for us is unconditional, as is God's love. It's rare in life to know a love that unconditional that we can trust is unconditional. No second-guessing. No games.

-He saw the best in me, and in us. We didn't need to earn his love, or attain any status, to earn his love. It was there, and it stayed.

-The playfulness. We too often undersell the playfulness of God. 

A friends once told me of a time, in high school, when she contemplated some serious self-harm. One night, she got stuck in a devolving, self-loathing mental/emotional spiral. She began considering how she could hurt herself, and when to do it.

 

Who intervened?

 

The family dog -- bounding into her bedroom with the grace of a dump truck to lick her face, bother her for pets, climb into her lap. The dog broke through the spell of shame. She broke free of the spiral.

Dogs know when we ache. They may not be able to pay off a credit card, or recite math equations, or change a tire, but they are keen students of their pack.

A question I plan to ask God someday: why is the span of a pet's life is so truncated compared to our lives? It cleaves me in two to have to let go of this companion. Why do they have to age so fast? I'd gladly take the pain of this with the love we knew for all these years. But wow, the pain screams.

 

Also: do I believe all dogs go to heaven? 

 

I'll put it this way: I believe in the resurrection of the dead, and of God "making all things new" (Revelation 21), and that would not just be humans, but all creation. The bonds we form with these creatures are a gift from God. It's unfathomable that God would withdraw this gift forever. I look forward to playing with this special dog, my sweet boy again. I love him so.

 

best imposter of myself

Imposter syndrome club, at some time or another, has counted us all as members.

"I'm not good enough to be here," we mutter to ourselves about [pick the situation]. "I don't belong. I'm such a fraud, an imposter."

This could be a friend group. A class, a degree program, or a school. A club. A relationship. A team. A job. An opportunity. You name it. Friends could tell us we belong; people wiser than us can affirm that we're up to the challenge ahead of us. People that know us, and love us, can bellow into our faces all day long these assertions.

But still, these positive reinforcements clang off our self-imposed armor of suck like jump shots off the backboard.

How do we step around this self-doubt?

I propose some ways to bypass this imposter syndrome (in other words, these are some ways that've helped me).

Bypass Way #1: Let's face facts. We suck ... at assessing ourselves when it comes to certain things.

This should not be news to you, or to me. Sort of how we can't tell when we have a piece of food stuck between our front teeth, but others can notice right away.

Sometimes, we need to admit that others can offer us a fairer assessment about ourselves than we can. Not just anyone else, but wise people who love us, want us to succeed, and who wish us well. We gotta recognize that their input is more accurate than our self-perception. In other words, we suck at fairly assessing ourselves. We gotta doubt our doubts.

Bypass Way #2: Let's re-frame imitating and pretending. 

What's so wrong with imitating, pretending to be something we're not quite?

Hear me out.

As little kids, we felt zero qualms about imitating, and playing pretend. We pretended we were doctors, musicians, fashion designers, scientists, construction workers, professional athletes, or soldiers. 

What all did you pretend to be? 

Our playgrounds, stages, and imaginations held court to so many instances of us pretending to be someone we weren't. 

You've done this. I have too.

Who hasn't stood in front of a mirror, holding a comb, and pretended to to be a famous singer?

But somewhere along the way, we got this idea that if we're watching and imitating others to a degree, we must be fake. We must be imposters. But we didn't always regard imitating and copying this way. 

I tell you this to remind you that imitating isn't always bad. It's often good and wise. 

A chef learns how to expertly cut vegetables by watching someone else do it first. A carpenter learns how to expertly use equipment by first apprenticing and watching someone else work. We all imitate. You're only really aware that you do this, and don't give much thought to if anyone else does. Imitating doesn't make you an imposter. There's wisdom in following an example.

Bypass Way #3: It's not a one-time fix. Imposter syndrome isn't something we overcome once, and that's that. A mentor taught me to think of battling imposter syndrome as akin to pulling weeds. Weeds never, ever go away for good. But weeds can be uprooted and thrown out to allow good plants to flourish. The more we fight the feeling of being an imposter, the easier the fight gets.

So pretty please, try these bypasses when you feel something like an imposter, a fraud ... when you feel like you don't belong.

Trust the words of loved ones as much (if not more) than you trust your own thoughts.

Remember everyone's long history of imitating, and how much we've grown by copying wise examples in our lives.

And keep after those weeds.

It gets easier.

first date advice

I've been stewing on this for awhile -- a student asked me about what to remember when going on or asking someone out for a first date. So here goes...

Disclaimer: of course I can't say everything that could possibly be said about this. But, what follows is what came to my mind. Please also ask wise, discerning people you know in your life about this too.

-A wise friend once said to me: "Dates can either be perfect, or they can be interesting. And truth be told, interesting is way easier to pull off than perfect." 

So do not aim for perfect. Aim for sufficiently interesting.

-Ask clearly that you'd like to hang out, and not just as friends. 

Yes, it's bold. Yes, it's a bit frightening. But it's also clear, and people appreciate clarity. Might as well put your intentions out there. Possibly getting let down sooner > possibly getting let down later.

-Keep the vibe of shooting your shot purposeful, concise, yet casual. Act as though you've thought it through, and it makes absolute logical sense from your perspective. "You're fun to spend time with, I enjoy talking with you, so asking you out is a no-brainer for me. What do you say?"

-If they decline: say OK. And if/when you see them around after the fact, do your best to relate to them as respectfully and innocuously as possible. You don't need to show them the same frenetic excitement as you might have done before the ask, but it's still wise to interact amiably.

You, giving them your usual head nod

If they decline, part II: Odds are good they're used to getting a weird vibe after turning someone down, so try to avoid that.

You treating them with respect will show maturity, and may perplex them (in a good way).

Why this matters, practically speaking: let's say you ask, they decline, and you do treat them with follow-up respect, normalcy, and friendliness. But then later on, a friend of theirs catches your interest. What will the first person say if/when asked about you? If you treat them maturely, they'll have a good report to share : "They weren't really my type, but they were cool about it". That says a lot.

-Food: for initial times hanging out, lunches (or brunches) are easier than dinners. It feels like there's less on the line if the rizz isn't quite fully blooming at first, but it has potential. 

And it's less time to fill with conversation.

-A word on complimenting physical appearance: For the first few times hanging out or anything like that, avoid complimenting how gorgeous they look, or how beautiful they are, etc. That comes across as way WAY too forward.

What you can do instead: specifically compliment something about what they're wearing. Maybe it's earrings, or their shoes, or their jacket, or fingernail polish, or their shirt, or bracelet. Whatever. Especially if it's something unique. You can also ask for the story of how and where they acquired said item. It gives you something to talk about. It shows that you're attentive. And it's a compliment. But it's a compliment that doesn't give a weird vibe.

-If you're doing the asking for the date, you probably should offer to pay. My reasoning has nothing to do with any potential gender expectations. It's because of this unavoidable truth: the potential downsides of offering to pay beat the potential downsides of not offering to pay.

-For example, one potential downside of not offering to pay: let's say the person that you asked out has a friend you meet later, and that person really could be someone suitable for you. You'd much rather have the talk about you be 'he wasn't really my type, but our hanging out was fine' then have them say 'eh, he asked me out, but he didn't even offer to pay'.

-If you'd like to pay for the date, please say so before anyone else (restaurant, ticket agent, cashier) asks. If the other person resists this, a possible way through is to ask if they have any cash on them. If they do, tell them that you'd like to pay, and ask them if they can leave the tip. Or if you're getting ice cream after that, could they pay for that.

If they still insist on paying for their portion, then let it be. This is not something you want to dwell on. Don't say "you pay the next time", that feels too presumptive.

-Does the person you're asking have any dietary allergies or restrictions? 

If so, and if y'all are going to grab a bite to eat, knowing beforehand what eateries can accommodate helps. And it makes you look considerate and thoughtful.

-If you're someone who likes to plan ahead, but also doesn't want to give off 'controlling' vibes, have a couple of date ideas in mind, all for which you're prepped. Float the options to the other person, and see what option toward which they react favorably. That way, they have a say too, but you're still able to think stuff through and plan.

People do like choices.

-Wear the clothes that you're most comfortable in, that also fit you well. Please make sure they're clean. Take a shower.

-Give your shoes a quick look. Taking three minutes to clean up your sneakers or polish your shoes makes a world of difference. If it's a first date, give strong consideration to not wearing flip-flops or anything that shows bare feet. Sheath the paws.

-Chew gum, take breath mints with you. It never hurts.

-Go easy on the cologne, or perfume. This scent is meant to be discovered, NOT ANNOUNCED. Spray it on your skin, not your clothes -- any decent body spray is formulated to interact with your body temperature.

-Take your phone, but do your best to not check it with them there.

-Steer clear of alcohol and/or mind-altering substances. This is generally decent advice, but especially so on a first date. 

-If you're taking your car, clean it out ahead of time, fill up the gas if needed.

That Raising Cane's to-go bag that's been on the front seat floorboard since your 10PM late snack run the other weekend? Throw it out.

That random hockey stick wedged in your backseat? Put it somewhere else.

The funk-y soccer cleats you keep in your backseat because it's convenient? Move them to the trunk.

Those used coffee cups you've been meaning to recycle but haven't yet? Today's recycling day.

The car doesn't need to look showroom new. It just needs to look (and smell) like you usually take care of it. You get the idea.

-If you need to borrow a car, work that out with a friend ahead of time. Put some gas back in the car after you're done with it (however much you used), as a courtesy.

-Let your friends know where you're going, and who you'll be with. Ask them to pray for you.

-Think ahead of time about what you might like to talk about, to keep conversation going. Easy, loose conversations take a studied sort of background effort to maintain. But they get easier with practice. Pro tip: people love to be able to answer questions brilliantly, ie questions about themselves, or about their past experiences, or about why they're into whatever they're into.

But also ... don't only ask questions. Too many could feel like an interview, so also come ready to talk about yourself, do some small talk. Questions should ideally morph into conversations.

A helpful book regarding good questions

-Don't talk about the ex. A first date is not the time for this, even if it's an innocuous, lighthearted story. There's so much other stuff to converse about. If the story is too good and too related to the moment to not share, then say it's about "a friend of yours" or "someone you went to school with."

-End the date concisely. If you're dropping them off, make the effort to walk them to the door, or to get them as close as possible to where you're dropping them off. Thank them for their time, tell them you enjoyed their company. Don't ask them out on another outing at the end -- give yourself (and them!) space to reflect on the time y'all spent together. Stay there until you see them successfully make entry into wherever they live.

-Then go decompress with your friends and/or trusted voices in your life. Resist your phone or updating your social media. Go radio silent on social media about the date.

-Send a text the next day to thank them for the time. If you send it too soon after the date, it feels like a pre-prepared auto-notification thank you. So wait on it. Keep the text short, sincere. We're all in a better mood and more rested in the morning, so send it in the mid-morning. 

And then do your best to not hover over your phone to see when a reply text arrives.

dance on the teeth of pain

Science re-learned old truths about dancing. I love what this re-reminds us.

In a fresh-off-the-presses study published in the BMJ (British Medical Journal), physical exertion was compared for how well it helped people who suffer with depression.

As you've heard before, exercise helps to fight back against depression's tentacles of despair.

But that's not what -- in this study -- caught my attention. 

It was this, from page 8: 

Dancing does the most to ward off depression. Dancing, by itself. 

Dancing! Better than yoga, mindfulness, tai chi.

"We're going out dancin'

Chase our blues away..." 

-Go Out Dancing, Rod Stewart

"Just dance, 

gonna be OK..." 

-Just Dance, Lady Gaga

"You turned my wailing into dancing, 

you removed my sackcloth 

and clothed me with joy..." -Psalm 30:11

I love when super-smart people (scientists, in this instance) reaffirm wisdom that the Bible elaborated upon in ancient times. We should dance. 

How many times has this happened to you: You're supposed to go out. But you're in a cranky, funky,  nothing-fits-right, life-sucks sort of mood. You rather wallow in this vibe, listen to your sad playlists, eat chips, play a video game, and doom-scroll. BUT you already said you'd show up.

"I don't even know if I want to go," you think. "I'm not feeling it."

But you force yourself to get out. You push yourself to be with people enjoying themselves. And voila -- you have a much, much MUCH better time than you would've predicted.

"Here we have a lot of fun,

Putting trouble on the run,

You find the old & young

Twistin' the night away" 

-Twistin' The Night Away, Sam Cooke

I look closer at these songs about dancing I mentioned above, and I see something I missed before. The lyrics all juxtapose dancing with the chasing away of trouble. Psalm 30 also does this. 

It's as though God designed it like this: dancing plays a role in reinforcing to us that, with our Lord, it'll be OK. The specter of doom wilts on the dance floor.

Of course it's natural to sometimes feel depressed. But why should depression get unresisted squatter's rights on our moods and days? Just because we're in that state doesn't mean we should -- without protest -- accede to all it brings. We can try to push back a little bit. We can work to stand up underneath it.

Sometimes we gotta kick pain in the mouth, and then dance on depression's busted teeth and gums.

I say this with supreme confidence: you do not dance as often as you could. Go do something about that, even if you feel self-conscious. Go get after places and times to dance.

"And David danced before the Lord 

with all his might"-2 Samuel 6:14

late night talking

Some of us feel more at home in "deeper" conversations.

We prefer the late-night chats where we excavate the depth of life's meaning, of love, of music lyrics, of unicorns, of faith, of personality profiles, of political theory, of metaphysical aspects of trees and how they sometimes speak to us.

But it's that "small talk" many of us disdain. 

Small talk: the informal chatter about anything banal. It's the 'how's the weather', the 'how's your week going?', and 'how's you doing?' or the 'it wouldn't feel so cold without this wind' sorta conversation.

We think of small talk like it's the air in an unopened potato chip bag; it's not why anyone wants chips.

 

We regard it like it's that random filler paper stuffed in the toe of new shoes; it's decorative filler.

It's that little pocket on our jeans, you know ... the one behind the right front pocket. I'm sure there's a purpose for this pocket, but would I notice if it wasn't there?

This is not how God thinks of small talk. 

This is good news for us, even though we don't like small talk. It's not that God sees "small talk" as more (or less) important than 'deeper talk'. It's that our Lord regards everything about our lives as important and able to bring glory. There's zero delineation between 'important stuff' and 'non-important stuff'.

When we engage in small talk (even when we don't feel any good at it) we acknowledge and participate in this truth: God regards all aspects of our lives as worthy of his attention. Therefore, when we likewise show similar interest about the 'little stuff' in each other's lives, we reflect something of how God first loves us. And that's cool.

Think about it: the people you trust the most were, at one time, strangers to you. 

You shared a class in high school, or you worked together, or you went to the same church, or played on the same team. Eventually, you started talking about something "seemingly" trivial. Maybe you discussed about a mutual love of tacos, or why you love the smell of paint (admit it, some of y'all do -- there's no way that's just me), or your favorite music when you were a kid, or the particular way you eat a roll of Smarties (yes, there are particular ways).

The innocuous chats lead to deeper ones. We can't swim the ocean without first wading into the shallower water at the shoreline. We almost always learn to trust others with the deeper parts of ourselves by first disclosing the lighter parts of our lives. And it's not like our talks with trusted friends only stay at deeper topics once they reach that point: they meander from heavy to light, from sad to ridiculously funny, from plain to joyful, from amusing to predictable to endearing.

It turns out that small talk works more like the mortar between bricks. Small talk is the cartilage situated around the joints in our body. Small talk is the marinade for the steak. Small talk is the environmentally-friendly straw that stirs the drink. Small talk is the echo that comes after the blast of a joyful noise.

And we get better at it (and it gets easier) as we keep at it.

So, what plans do you have for this weekend?

RSV to the P

"Say not, 'Why were the former days better than this?' For it is not from wisdom that one asks this." 

-Ecclesiastes 7:10

A best friend of mine's favorite book in the Bible is Ecclesiastes. It's a quick read. If you enjoy figuring out song lyrics, you'd like Ecclesiastes. If you're someone who doesn't enjoy it when people try to be naively optimistic, Ecclesiastes is for you.

If you want to skim through it (and you have a Bible nearby), it's about one-third of the way in. Psalms, Proverbs, then Ecclesiastes.

This above verse has clanged around in my brain lately. The hourly deluge of 'What's Catastrophically Wrong Today In the World' (i.e. daily headlines, social media feeds, news of evils and injustices small and large) can make it feel like everything (everywhere, all at once), is uniquely worse than ever before.

And yet. And yet this sage verse -- "Say not, 'Why were the former days better than this?' For it is not from wisdom that one asks this." -- re-grounds my daily perceptions in enduring reality:

a) It helps me resist believing the lie that life will be worse tomorrow. That's crucial. But it doesn't help me resist this by minimizing today's evils, or by turning a blind eye. It widens my view. It reminds me that for so many, this sort of evil and injustice is an old, long reality. Tomorrow won't be worse, because...

b) ...Yesterday wasn't always better. "Why can't it be like it used to be way back when? Used-to-be way back when was so good, and simple." That just isn't true. It helps me to resist giving too much stock to 'the good old days'.

c) It helps me resist a particular shame. You know, the kind of shame that comes when we learn something new, and then feel like we somehow should've known this information all along. We're not the only ones to believe this. Knowing this helps me resist feeling shame for once believing the world was better.

d) It reminds me that there are others who -- while they've fought injustice -- have also lived with and endured with such evils for a long, long time. It's nothing new. Therefore, I can't become impatient when evils and sin don't immediately disappear. That seldom happens. The patience of those who've more directly struggled with evil inspires me to check my impatience to want everything all fixed, right this instant.

Where does that leave me?

It leaves me skeptical, but not (quite as) jaded;
resolute, but not (quite as) naive;
playing catch-up, but resisting shame about needing to do that;
faithful, but not (as) surprised;
distressed, but (more) hopeful that one day, all that's wrong will be made right;
overwhelmed, but not (as) no longer believing there's nothing I can do;
motivated, but not (as) prone to thinking I can fix this through sheer effort.

So thankful this verse is here ... that way, when I need reminding, it's still written down. It's not going anywhere.

"Let's just make this clear: I have no idea what I'm doing. I am stumbling through this like everyone else." -Dr. E. McCaulley

Blessings on your week this week.

tin roof! ... rusted

 

For most of my life, I've despised the song 'Love Shack.'

The B52's don't fit well with any music genre. It's not grunge. It's not R&B. For sure not metal. It was like if a pop song took a trip to the future, then came back and ended up on sale in some ironically boojee glam thrift clothing store in an abandoned mall.

'Love Shack' is catchy. It's ridiculous. kitschy, and altogether weird. 

And I could not stand it.

For years, I'd switch the radio station when I'd hear that snare drum start on the track. I'd leave the dance floor when it cued up at parties and weddings.

This must be said: in the great annals of time, this hardly counts as a problem. It's a blog post about a song. But you're still reading. And you have to admit, there are songs that you just can't stand listening to, simply because you just can't stand listening to them. So you know what I'm saying. You're catching this vibe.

(It's not just songs. We start out disliking something for reasons that, at first, make some sense to us. Eventually, our dislike calcifies into a settled disposition, long after we forgot why we ever felt that way in the first place.)

A little while back, I was out with friends at a birthday party. Additionally, my friends Ronna and Jim, who I hadn't seen in years, were also at this gathering (friends I sang in choir with long time ago), so I felt joyful. They volun-told me that the group was picking a song to sing together on the karaoke setup there, and I'd be joining them. No big deal, I thought.

But of all the songs, they pick...'Love Shack.' 

Of course they would pick this song. They didn't know I didn't like the song. It wasn't my birthday party, so out of respect, I kept my feelings to myself.

I feebly protested as that kitschy snare opened up the tune, but I had no time to complain; what was supposed to be MY PART of the singing was starting. So I begrudgingly sang along, alongside dear old friends, at this birthday party.

And somewhere in the 4:16 it took for that song to play that night, my disposition for this song turned from disdain to affection.

Perhaps ... it was the realization that I was slaying it on vocals ... (not afraid to say that I was). But seriously, the actual reason my heart changed was seeing my friend Ronna unreservedly pour her awesome voice through that song. Witnessing her sing like that helped change my mind. She was loving it; seeing how she loved it helped me figure out how I could love it too.

Has this ever happened to you? Surely it has. We learn to love most of what we love because we see it loved from someone else's perspective. In fact, that's probably how we learn to love anything we love -- someone showed us how.

Don't get me wrong ... I still think the song is catchy. It's ridiculous, kitschy, and altogether weird. 

And I love it.

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way." -Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz