Katdish.net

image courtesy of photobucket.com

The written word is such a powerful thing. Words build up, encourage, give hope, express love and communicate powerful and life changing messages. They can also be incredibly destructive and hurtful. Whoever said “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”, was clearly living in denial. Words have the power we choose to give to them.

I’ve said before that for me, honest writing is the best kind. But even honest writing must serve a purpose. I heard this song recently and it really resonated with me. Our words should be about more than just spilling our guts and airing our dirty laundry for the sake of being “transparent” or “real”.

Secrets (by One Republic)
I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess
Til’ all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I’ve said
Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw wink, no
I’ve been on the brink, so

Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I’m gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don’t need another perfect line
Don’t care if critics never jump in line
I’m gonna give all my secrets away

My god, amazing how we got this far
It’s like we’re chasing all those stars
Who’s driving shiny big black cars
And everyday I see the news
All the problems that we could solve
And when a situation rises
Just write it into an album
Singing straight, too cold
I don’t really like my flow, no, so

Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I’m gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don’t need another perfect line
Don’t care if critics never jump in line
I’m gonna give all my secrets away

Oh, got no reason, got not shame
Got no family I can blame
Just don’t let me disappear
I’mma tell you everything

So tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I’m gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don’t need another perfect line
Don’t care if critics never jump in line
I’m gonna give all my secrets away

Our words should serve a greater purpose. There needs to be a point to our stories–even if the point is simply to point out our shared expereinces as a means to feel connected to one another. Otherwise, what’s the use? We might as well shut it down and watch reality television 24-7.

The following is a repost, but I really thought it fit the Blog Carnival topic of Laughter well. For more posts on the topic of Laughter, visit Bridget Chumbley’s place, One Word at a Time.

When I go to the local bookstore, I browse for books much like I browse for clothes. I know what I like, but I’m always open to something a little out of my comfort zone. Which is why I made an impulse buy. I bought this book:

I wouldn’t say it’s full of profanity, but it’s got its fair share. But that’s not necessarily a deal breaker when I buy a book. I bought the book because the first reaction to the cover–I laughed. Then I read a few pages and laughed some more. And while I don’t agree with many of Denis Leary’s political and social views, I must admit he presents some pretty good examples of the sense of ridiculous entitlement many Americans indulge in.

But here’s where the book falls short for me–the snark (while sometimes needlessly cruel IMO) is funny at first, but after awhile it just sounds like a really grumpy, angry rant against anyone or anything that happens to piss him off. After awhile, it gets tired. Not funny anymore.

This got me wondering about what makes people laugh and why. After I googled it some in-depth search, I found an interesting article in Psychology Today. In part, it says:

“Over the past few years, laughter researchers have come to realize that the element of surprise was fundamental to most jokes…What Clarke realized was that while most jokes are surprising, the reason they are surprising is because everyone has an inborn pattern recognition system. It is the violation of standard patterns we find funny. And this violation is a universal.”

I suppose this is why, in part, Leary’s book ceased being funny for me. After the first several pages, everything he wrote was fairly predictable.

I think what we laugh at say much about our character.

Most of us have seen America’s Funniest Videos. We laugh when people fall off of bikes or fall down, but most of us would not find it funny without the disclaimer at the beginning of the show that “no one was seriously injured in the making of these videos”. Knowing that folks are okay gives us permission to laugh. (Well, that and the fact they sent the videos in in the first place.)

I hate to write a quasi-serious post about humor, but as someone who loves to laugh and loves to make others laugh, it’s disconcerting to me that so much of what we laugh at these days seems to be at the expense of others–often without their knowledge or permission.

The old adage still holds true: Laugh with them, not at them. If a person can laugh at themselves, they’re giving you permission to join in.

And now I will share a joke:

My mom is one of those really angry moms who gets mad at absolutely everything. Once when I was a little kid, I accidentally knocked a Flintstones glass off the kitchen table. She said, “Well, dammit, we can’t have nice things.” – Paula Poundstone

Okay. Your turn. Tell me a joke. Make me laugh.

Don’t worry — I’m easily amused…

image courtesy of photobucket.com

The wails were coming from near the concession stand on the other end of the parking lot where I had noticed a church group was selling hot dogs and offering to wash cars. We all turned in the general direction and wondered what had caused the commotion.

None of us saw anything until my son pointed into the sky and said, “Look!”

We did, but there seemed to be nothing but blue sky and sunshine. But then I squinted and saw it. High above us, dancing with a hawk.

A balloon.

My daughter took the opportunity to offer her usual take of part philosophy and part practicality: “You gotta hang on to stuff,” she said. “If you don’t, it’ll just float away.”

Point taken.

My family finished shopping, winding into one store and out another, until we had each crossed our necessities off our respective lists. The end brought us to the concession stand. Hot dogs and a car wash were offered, but only the hot dogs were accepted. “I wash my own cars,” I told the nice lady. She didn’t understand. Guy thing.

“You two want a balloon?” I asked the kids. Which was a stupid question, really. What kid doesn’t want a balloon? I’m thirty-eight years old, and I wanted one.

They inched their way over to the huge tank of helium and gawked at what the church people offered. There were red balloons and blue balloons. White, black, pink, purple, yellow, orange. Big ones and little ones and all sizes between. I assumed they were trying to figure out which color and size to get. I was wrong. They were trying to decide if they really wanted one or not.

They chose not.

“Seriously?” I asked them. “You really don’t want a balloon.”

“No,” my daughter said.

My son’s mouth was full of hot dog, so he just shook his head.

“They have pink,” I said to my daughter, “And blue,” to my son.

No thanks.

“What’s the matter with you two?” I asked.

Their answer came not by their words, but from their looks. Up.

“You won’t lose your balloons,” I said. “We’re getting ready to leave. All you have to do is hang onto them long enough to get to the truck.”

No. From both.

“We have hot dogs,” my son said after he swallowed. “I don’t want to have to hold a balloon and a hot dog. I won’t be able to hold on tight. I’d let one of them go.”

“Me too,” my daughter said.

“I can help. I’ll hold the balloons for you.”

“But what if you let go?”

I told them I wouldn’t, but that didn’t seem to pacify them. They knew from experience that Daddy, while good in most things, sometimes dropped stuff. Normally this would not be a bad thing, since what’s dropped can just be picked up. But as we had all learned from the wailing earlier, balloons don’t fall when they’re dropped.

“So neither of you want a balloon?”

No.

“Because you’re afraid it’ll fly away?”

Yes.

“You gotta hang onto stuff,” my daughter said again. “If you don’t, it’ll just fly away.”

That was true, I thought, and not just with balloons. Lots of things would fly away if you let go of them. Good things. Things like dreams and friendships and love. You have to hang on to those. Keep your grip on them loose, and they’ll go away and leave you wailing.

But even worse than that is to never take hold of those things in the first place. To let the fear of What If overtake the pleasure of What Could Be.

I knew that from experience. There were plenty times in my life when I never tried because I was afraid I would fail. I didn’t want to see my balloon fly away. I would have rather been safe than hurt.

I knew better now. And I hoped my kids would someday know better, too.

Because the only thing worse than watching your balloon fly away is never having a balloon in the first place.

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at his blog What I Learned Today and follow him on twitter at @BillyCoffey

One of my favorite parts of the Echo Media Conference I attended last week was the worship sessions lead by Jon Abel. I wanted to share his story for those of you who have not heard of it. Powerful.

image courtesy of ourshirtsdontsuck.com (and they don't)

I didn’t write a twitter post  last Saturday because I spent the weekend camping, after spending the previous three days in Dallas at the Echo Church media conference. This is a highly edited (you’re welcome) list of random tweets, many of which were tweeted from Dallas or possibly between Houston and Dallas. If you’re new here, they are in backwards order, because I’m lazy like that…

The best of me (or not) on the twitter from the last 2 weeks:

Great! Now I’ve got THAT on my conscious!

Just deleted a spam comment that said “I have been kidnapped by the Russian mafia. If U don’t approve this comment they will kill me.”

@muchl8r Thanks, Jake. Your grumpy old manish disposition probably inspires many young folks as well. (in reply to muchl8r @Katdish HAPPY B-DIDDY LADY!!!!! Your immaturity inspires a lot of middle-aged and probably old people ;))

I think I’m officially middle-aged today. Fortunately, my immaturity gives the illusion of youth

I love my dog & cat, but dang. Back off! http://twitpic.com/2bmwfz

@CassandraFrear @SandraHeskaKing @RobinMArnold Snort! Thanks for all the virtual birthday celebration! Holy chicken paraphernalia!

In my intro for today’s guest post, I mention that I hated high school. Now I’m getting friend requests on FB from people I went to HS

“Too bad the person sending it to me did not know 10 people who would admit knowing the Lord. I know 10 people.” (Okay, seriously?)

“If I don’t get this back, I will know you didn’t read it.” ~ massive stupid email. Actually I did read it. It’s just lame

RT @Jasonajefferson: “The cops put me on this son of a bitch”-exactly what I want to hear from the guy who sits next to me on the Greyhound.

“Okay, people. We’re going to need a Speak & Spell and 7 pounds of mashed potatoes.” – Shaun, #psych

@PrairieLady Coward! I grew up driving in Houston. Which means I will tailgate you until you get out of my lane. (in reply to PrairieLady @katdish Wait … I don’t think I’d drive in Houston at all if I were paid! ha!)

@marni71 Tell him I’ll send him 20 bucks if he lets you twitpic him spinning in an oversized dryer (in reply to marni71 @katdish But on a high note, Dane and I have a date night tonight. Granted it’s at the laundromat, but still…)

Holy Human Hamster Balls! http://twitpic.com/2b0yny

The creepiest thing I’ve seen in a long time, & I watched a gator eat a frog yesterday: Trololo on #FOTTSP http://bit.ly/cAS4W2

FINALLY home again, after six days. And now for laundry…

@MarketerMikeE I just give it over to God. Like it says in the bible,”I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden.” OSLT. (in reply to MarketerMikeE @katdish poor thing. Praying for you.)

@HisFireFly Wow! No a/c & only 2 channels? Do you make your own butter, too? Betcha have a heater in the winter, tho.

Not to mention the 3G is spotty at best. Snort!

Really roughing it this weekend. The air conditioned camper we rented only picks up local channels. No cable. http://twitpic.com/2afjkt

@katiemoon You had to add the quotation marks? Great hanging out this week! Thanks. (in reply to katiemoon @katdish so glad we connected this week, kathy! enjoy ‘camping’ : ))

I will be attending Not Losing yourself in social media this morning & sending out constant updates to all my followers

@FakeMediaGuy Oh, I see you now! (in reply to FakeMediaGuy @katdish I’m at Watermark Community Church in Dallas. I’m the guy wearing blue jeans and carrying a smartphone. #echo10)

@FakeMediaGuy Where are you? Who are you? #echo10

Sorry I haven’t been tweeting, but seeing everyone else do it makes me want to not do it. I heart non-conformity. #echo10

@marni71 Youre such a giver (in reply to marni71 @katdish I’ll just drive fast to the church and u can hang ur head out the window. #I’mhereforyou)

Judging by the mighty power of the hotel blow dryer, my hair should be dry in about an hour & 1/2

Let it be known that #echo10 played the double rainbow video, but #FOTTSP played it first @weightwhat

RT @foxnews: Thank you, headline gods: Naked New Mexico hitchhiker burned prosthetic leg with crack pipe http://fxn.ws/atWYmB

They’ve already won the pleasure of my company #echo10

Who’s in the blog breakout session? The first person to find me wins a quarter. Except for @marni71 or @sarahmsalter.#echo10

Rode the elevator w/a guy wearing a fedora, graphic tee and horn rimmed glasses #echo10? #wildguess

BOOM! SHAKA! ~ Shaun #psych

You would think the Muzak version of Hall & Oates’ Private Eyes would be really bad. And you would be correct. #elevatortweet

@weightwhat Wow….that was freaky (in reply to weightwhat @katdish And then you punched him in the neck?)

This just in: My room smells like Ben-Gay. No idea why

@redclaydiaries No, I ever so discreetly punched him in the neck. (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish …and then you cut him, right?)

@weightwhat @sarahmsalter No, but some guy asked me if my phone was telling jokes. I told him to mind his business.

@weightwhat You know what would be really scary? A Mary Kay Clown Conference.

@marni71 I’m here! Back in the room. I was getting strange looks from people b/c I was laughing at my phone (in reply to marni71 I’m worried about @katdish. She’s undercover and hasn’t tweeted in a bit. I hope she hasn’t crossed over to the dark side.)

@blowingupecho Define rock star pants. And if you wear them, come find me. #echo10

@weightwhat So you’re like some kind of evil middle man? (in reply to weightwhat @katdish No, they just have a way of finding me. I think they’re trying to get to you through me.)

@weightwhat Do you actively seek out clown blogs? (in reply to weightwhat @katdish I found a clown fail blog today and thought of you. Go figure.)

@redclaydiaries None yet. But I’m open to suggestions. (in reply to redclaydiaries @buzzbyannies I do not know. That would be epic. @katdish, what inappropriate question did you ask?)

@marni71 Oh, they don’t scare me. (in reply to marni71 @buzzbyannies I’m worried about @katdish being all Mary Kay-ed up and sitting in a hotel bar alone. Those drinkin Baptists can’t be trusted)

@buzzbyannies It would get very ugly. (in reply to buzzbyannies @redclaydiaries I’d just like to see @Katdish in the middle of a MK conference. #awesome)

In the hotel bar looking for Echo Conference attendees. Working undercover for the SBC. #echo10

@buzzbyannies Oh, I have that crap painted over. (in reply to buzzbyannies @redclaydiaries @Marni71 I never took @Katdish to be someone who gets her pink on.)

@redclaydiaries I’m holding out for a pink Range Rover. (in reply to redclaydiaries @marni71 A pink Cadillac to go with the ghetto nail art? Interesting look… @katdish)

@sarahmsalter Oh I’m harmless. Not really, but still. I won’t cut you. (in reply to sarahmsalter @redclaydiaries Thanks. I’m just a little scared now. 🙂 @katdish)

@sarahmsalter Im good with the hello and goodbye hug. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish Yeah, I didn’t figure you for a touchy-feely type. I’ll try to restrain myself.)

@marni71 oh, like you’re the first person to tell me that. (in reply to marni71 @katdish you are in NORTH Dallas it’s trendy and wealthy. How did u end up in a ghetto “massage parlor”? U need to be supervised.)

@CandySteele This nail salon was very strange. Some big sweaty guy came in for a “massage”. Ewh.

RT @marni71: @CandySteele tweetdick. I almost just peed myself.

@buzzbyannies @CandySteele trust me, you can tell. I think there’s an eyelash painted into my big toe

@CandySteele @buzzbyannies Worst pedicure ever. (in reply to CandySteele @katdish Whaaa??? I thought this was a conference, not a beauty contest. First pedis and now Mary Kay?)

@buzzbyannies I’m at the hotel. Marns just texted me. Her and Sarah are looking for a Mary Kay convention

Having a pedi in the darkest nail salon ever watching a Vietnamese soap opera. Good times. http://twitpic.com/29ahhg

Downtown in rush hour traffic. Touché Dallas.

Dallas: I’m 50 miles away. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

@ButterflyBeacon You mean like asking him what’s up w/the platypus? Because that’s where I’m at intellectually (in reply to ButterflyBeacon RT @katdish: I think very random thoughts while driving. // So glad I’m not alone..actually I have interesting conversations with God.)

@buzzbyannies now Annie. You know I would never do that. Snort! (in reply to buzzbyannies @katdish Are you tweeting all this WHILE driving? If so, Texas should issue a travel advisory. Or warning.)

Corsicana…and buh bye.

Impossible for me not to smile when I hear Domino by Van Morrison.

@PensieveRobin I dunno. That cake in the rain song is a tear jerker. (in reply to PensieveRobin @katdish Saddest song evah!)

Confession: ABBA makes me stabby. Sorry @helenatrandom

Whenever I hear the song Cat’s in the Cradle, I feel compelled to make fun of it. Don’t know why

@MarketerMikeE Well duh. (in reply to MarketerMikeE Guess I’m the bigger sinner then.)

@MarketerMikeE I’m on I-45. Perfectly straight line. (in reply to MarketerMikeE RT @katdish: I think very random thoughts while driving.// Me too! I’m driving and thinking about tweeting. Oops. Oh crap.)

Also, there’s no such thing as a fresh bag of Boston baked beans. They’re selling old bags from the late 70’s.

For example, I think The Rolling Stones are the most overrated band in the history of music

I think very random thoughts while driving.

And…back on the road to @echoconference!

I’ll leave this one to the peanut gallery… http://twitpic.com/298jrf

Yeah. It’s a giant beaver. http://twitpic.com/298jdu

Passing thru Madisonville & had to stop here because, well, it’s Buc-ee’s http://twitpic.com/298j28

@Helenatrandom Well that’s a relief. I thought that Hwy patrolman was just being fresh. (in reply to Helenatrandom @katdish Have fun. Be safe. Wear clean undies. I hear if you are in an auto accident, the undies are the first thing they check.)

Mick Jagger image courtesy of photobucket.com

Yesterday (today, actually since I’m writing this post for tomorrow) was my birthday. I woke up to find three birthday cards from three of the most important people in my life—my husband, my son and my daughter—sitting on the island in the kitchen. They surrounded a box with a gift from my husband. I knew what it was. He had asked what I wanted and I told him. You may think this sounds unimaginative, but he would rather get me something I want than pull his hair out trying to find the perfect gift only to find it wasn’t so perfect after all.

Giant-lipped, overrated rock star Mick Jagger sings, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.”

I’m a firm believer that you can get what you want AND what you need. I also believe what you want is diametrically opposed to what you need at times. But we want what we want, don’t we? So much so that we confuse what we want with what we need.

But let’s assume what we want is not in conflict with what we need. Why is it we don’t get what we want? I think there are several reasons, but probably the biggest reason is this:

We don’t ask.

Instead, we sulk around and expect others to know what we want, then we get angry and resentful because we think people should just know what we want. This is pretty ridiculous if you think about it. The only One who truly knows the desires of our heart is the One who created us.

My challenge for you today is to ask for what you want. But think long and hard before you ask–you just might get it. And sometimes that’s an entirely new can of worms, because very few things in life come without strings attached. If you’re the giver of what is asked, I challenge you to give freely, without strings attached, because a gift isn’t really a gift if its bound up with strings.

A very special thank you to all the wonderful birthday wishes. Y’all made me feel like a rock star, even if I was doing laundry and cleaning the kitchen (like a rockstar).

image courtesy of photobucket.com

I don’t do this sort of thing very often, but Sandra Heska King took the 7 Link Challenge posted by Darren Rowse of ProBlogger, and I thought it would be some good blog fodder a great opportunity to reflect upon what I hope to accomplish through this blog as I move forward. Okay, yeah…mostly just the blog fodder part…

Link #1: My first post. Just Me Here. Posted on April 30, 2008, and quite dreadful, actually.

Link #2: The post I enjoyed writing the most. Hmmm…That’s a tough one. I love the posts where I find myself laughing out loud at my own cleverness. (Pathetic, but true–I crack myself up.) But I think the post I’ve enjoyed writing the most was The Skating Party, because it was the first time I’ve ever felt compelled to write. You know, like an actual writer. It was also the first time I’d written something serious that I thought was actually worth reading.

Link #3: A post which had great discussion. I’m going to have to go with two here, because the discussion that began in I do not heart grocery shopping was continued in Say it ain’t so, Kro! Say it ain’t so! The discussions from these two posts have got to be the most ridiculous, and therefore, my favorites. This post was also groundbreaking as it introduced the Pornographic Cheese Buttler to the blogosphere.

Link #4: A post on someone else’s blog I wish I had written. Obviously, any post from Billy Coffey’s blog What I Learned Today I wish I had written, or at least have the talent to have written as well. But my all-time favorite still has to be How to Take a Punch. Which, come to think of it, was posted on my blog as a guest post, but still.

Link #5: My most helpful post. Apparently, Why I hate writing (which I was going to call “Why I hate writers”) was most helpful, because writers are gluttons for punishment, and I managed to stir up any repressed feelings of insecurity among a rather large audience. I know…you’re welcome.

Link #6: A post with a title I’m proud of. Pocket Jesus, the nasty pimp hat and Revenge of the granny panties. Really speaks for itself, no?

Link #7: A post I wish more people would have read. Duh…all of them.

Okay. There’s my list. What about you? What’s your favorite post I’ve written that you wish you had written? Snort!

If you knew me in high school, you would know not to ask what group I hung out with. I actually pretty much hated high school because everyone felt the need to belong to a group and not venture outside the confines of said group. I don’t like groups of people, I like individuals. But I’m pretty sure if Darlene and I had gone to high school together, we’d have been great friends, and probably gotten into all sorts of trouble together. Because for me, the best character trait a person can have is honesty–with themselves and with others. For those of you who don’t already know her, I am very pleased to introduce Darlene, a simple country girl:

If you don’t recognize me, I am the one who creates a lot of gray space in the comment sections here. Meaning I have a tendency to ramble on and on. Katdish just does that to me. I can only imagine that had we been friends in my small town, north Idaho high school, I would not have been alone climbing out the window during Spanish class. I mean really, the room was packed like fish in a can and oftentimes smelled like it too. Sometimes a girl just needed some fresh air…

Like the freedom I inhaled once I escaped the confines of an overcrowded classroom, Katdish (unknowingly) has helped me break loose of self-imposed blog mould I used to confine myself to as a writer, a storyteller, a patriot, and a child of God. Thank you for helping me be the wiggly blob of Jell-O I always knew I could be. She shares in ways that are real, biting through the fluff and fancy. And in doing so, she reminds me of me.

It can be a bit daunting when perusing in the Land of Blog. Over the last couple of years I have discovered some wonderful writers and so many refined and intelligent Christian women who really seem put-together, both spiritually and technologically. Uh, I am just a simple country girl who drives a beat-up Dodge pick-up truck and I used to live in a trailer, not once, but twice. Besides that, I wasn’t born into a Christian family and I don’t know the order of the books in the Bible. In fact, I struggle daily with dying to the very sin-filled self I made for the thirty-one years prior to meeting the Lord.

In addition, I have a really sorted and stained past…in school I wore mini-skirts and had really short, spiky hair. I had a potty mouth that would make a sailor blush. I used my fists to get my revenge after someone popped me in the face. And I did the same to the boy who abused my sister, plus I spit on him. I used to walk into a bar and come sliding out on my lips. So, what do I have to contribute in a place filled with personalized web sites, accounts that tweet, and blogs with followers? Truth be told, the answer is “not a whole lot,” unless God is holding my hand and showing me the way. His way.

My walk with the Lord began about seven years ago while pregnant with my son. Like most adults, I came into a relationship with Christ, not empty-handed, but holding tight to suitcases packed full of mistakes, regrets, and despair. Up until December of last year I had a story that wasn’t aired. Folks just don’t hang out their dirty laundry for the entire town to see, right? But when God handed me the basket of clothes that He washed Himself, I had no choice but to grab the clothespins and dangle the garments from the line. And to stand in my driveway with a sign, welcoming others to do the same.

Healing Hearts, Renewing Minds is a place inspired by God out of a very wounded woman’s past. My past. I spent twenty-two years heavy-laden with guilt, pain, and shame due to a teenage abortion. Oh, I never really expected to be healed of that wrenching heartbreak and the deep-rooted pain, shame, and unforgiveness. Actually, it all practically strangled me. Thankfully when I started walking with the Lord, He had other plans…

Friends, if you have any dirty laundry that you keep tucked into the hidden compartment of your life suitcases, I pray that you would meet God at the cross and hand it all to Him. His washing machine is really big and He guarantees complete sin-stain removal. If you just want a place where you can soak in some waters of Truth or some hearts to join yours in healing, stop by. I would be honored to hang your clothes next to mine.

Oops. Sorry. Scooch over just a bit, please. I need some room for my soapbox. I urge you to get out from behind the bushes and take a righteous stand in the political arena. Despite what any current bigwig says, men of God built America’s foundation upon Biblical principles. Folks, in these corrupt and challenging times we need more righteous men and women to stand-up, speak out, and yes, thump God’s good Word. After all, in Psalms 82 in the New King James Version, God calls us to “Defend the poor and fatherless; Do justice to the afflicted and needy” (v. 3) and to “Deliver the poor and needy; Free them from the hand of the wicked” (v.4). Our Creator most certainly doesn’t call us to sit on our phone-dialing fingers or stuff our letter-writing hands deep into our pockets while our God-given life and liberties are twisted into a moral-less mockery. Please do all you can.

I will continue to cut the fluff and share bits and pieces of my simple country life, even if that means airing my laundry on the Land of Blog’s clothesline. Thank you miss Katdish for showing me that is okay to be tough and gentle, that it is fine to be serious and funny.

Finally I know the Truth, it is best to be a real woman and a forgiven daughter of God.

* You can find more of A Simple Country Girl at Aspire to Lead a Quiet Life where she writes and posts photographs. She is also the founder of two ministries. Healing Hearts, Renewing Minds, a post-abortion ministry site and For the Least of These, an international photography ministry that financially supports orphans in Uganda. But what really floats her boat the most is being a child of God, a wife and a mother. Do be careful though because she also likes to laugh until tea spurts out of her nose.

image courtesy of photobucket.com, shirt courtesy of bad fashion choices of the 80s.

When you like a song, are you more drawn to the melody or the lyrics? Me? I’m all about the lyrics. Have you ever argued with someone about the meaning behind the words to a song, or am I sharing something really nerdy and embarrassing about myself? Maybe both.

I’ve had a few conversations about the true meaning behind songs like I Want Candy by Bow Wow Wow and Turning Japanese by the Vapors. (Because that’s where I’m at intellectually.) For the record, “Turning Japanese” is not what most people thought it was about, and I was right—so there.

But then an artist named Seal came along and refused to print the lyrics to any of his songs. Reportedly, he wanted the listener to find the meanings for themselves. As a person who is all about lyrics and their meaning, this was pretty heady stuff. Especially from a guy who sings:

“And the riders (writers?) will not stop us, cuz the only drug they’ll find is paradise…” (Huh? What does that mean?)

Or,

“I’ve been kissed from a rose from a grave, the more I get the stranger it feels, yeah. Now that your rose is in bloom, the light hits the gloom from the grave.” (Again—I got nothing.)

I love that Seal gave me permission to imagine a more personal meaning; that his ego wasn’t such that he demanded I interpret the lyrics in the way he penned them. This may not seem like a big deal to some, but I have a huge connection with music. It means much to hear lyrics of a song and imagine whoever wrote those words understands on some level what I may be going through—good or bad.

My worldview has changed much since I became a Christian. I tend to find more spiritual meanings in songs. I don’t try to “Jesus them up” or anything, and some songs you can never divine a deep spiritual meaning from (See: “Bootylicious”, “My Humps”, etc.), but many songs take on different meanings these days.

I was driving home from Dallas last week and a concept that God has been trying to get my attention with was made very clear through, of all things, the Pat Benatar song, Shadows of the Night. Specifically, these lines:

“Surrender all your dreams to me tonight, they’ll come true in the end.”

It finally occurred to me through those words—the dreams we cling to the most, our deepest desires can easily become false gods, pushing out the One True God. We have to desire Him above all else. And when we are able to honestly say to God:

If you don’t want to grow this ministry…neither do I.
If you don’t me to sit in the corner office…neither do I.
If you don’t want my book on the best seller list…neither do I.
If you don’t want me to ever have a child…neither do I.
If you don’t want me to ever marry…neither do I.
If you don’t want me to fight this battle…neither do I.
If you don’t want me to survive this cancer…neither do I.
If you choose not to take this thorn from my flesh, then I will endure it for Your glory.
If you don’t want this for my life…neither do I.

No matter what “this” is. When we can honestly say these words to God, that’s when he can go about giving us the desires of our hearts, because that’s when our desires begin to align with His.

And now, please enjoy this incredibly hokey video from 1982. I love me some Pat Benatar:

image courtesy of photobucket.com

I am standing in aisle eleven at Wal-Mart. Beside me is a fortyish woman, smartly dressed yet still a bit haggard. Both of us are contemplating the correct choice among the dizzying array of what may well be the most important technological advancement for anyone trying to protect an innocent home from the ravages of children: stain remover.

I woke up this morning to find a blotch of spaghetti sauce on the couch. How’d it get there? No idea. But as the blotch was in the shape of a small handprint, I have suspects.

Such events are common in the lives of parents. There are messes and spills and catastrophes large and small to endure. And there are stains. Many, many stains. So many, in fact, that I can’t seem to walk through the house anymore without glancing behind me to dwell on them all.

So. A trip to Wal-Mart.

I don’t know this lady beside me. I don’t know if her issue is child-related or not. We piddle through the bottles and packages and cans of cleaner, pondering to ourselves.

Stain fighting has come a long way. Whereas past generations had to make due with soap and spit and elbow grease, we are fortunate enough to possess the fruits of science. As I scan the shelves, I see products that promise to eliminate stain completely, to restore damaged goods to immaculate condition, and to do it all with a minimum amount of effort. After careful thought, I choose the bottle that promises to clean even deeper than its competitors and disinfect while doing so. Excellent.

The lady beside me makes her choice as well, opting for the industrial strength cleaner that promises to get rid of not only stains, but staph, strep, and E. coli as well. She must have a bigger family.

She turns to leave and chuckles, partly to herself and partly to me. “Wish they could make a stain remover for your life,” she says.

What a wonderful idea, I think to myself. After all, there is even more to clean up in a life than in a house, children or not. There are plenty of messes and spills, not to mention all those catastrophes of varying degree. There are surely more stains. In my own case, a lot more. And like my own house, I can’t seem to walk through my life without glancing back to dwell on them all.

I’m sure I’m not alone here.

It would be nice if we could all just stroll over to aisle eleven at the Wal-Mart and grab of bottle of miracle something that could get rid of all our stains and restore us to perfect condition with one quick spritz and wipe.

But we can’t.

Cleaning up failures and regrets is a lot harder than cleaning up spaghetti sauce. Those stains are deeper and more permanent. That’s okay, though. It really is. Those stains remind us of what happens when we try to go it alone, when we think we can do things our own way, in our own time, and with only our own interests at heart.

Walking through this life is more like walking through the woods than a house. It’s tough and hard and it’s easy to get lost if you’re not paying attention. And no matter how carefully we step or how experienced we believe ourselves to be, we all get a little filthy in the process. But there is a secret to getting through life and the woods and safely back home. It isn’t to look down in shame at the stains we’ve managed to get on ourselves, it’s to look up to the God who can take those stains away. The God who put our eyes in front of us so we can see where we’re going and not where we’ve been.

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at his blog What I Learned Today and follow him on twitter at @BillyCoffey