Katdish.net

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Yesterday I posted several pictures here. For those of you who are still wondering, yes, all those projects were done by yours truly, and no, I have no formal training. Just sort of figured things out as I went along. I tend to throw myself head first into anything that fuels my creative spirit. There is an energy and a spark when you take an idea in your head and it transfers well to a final result. That goes for anything. Not just the creative arts.

Then there are times when my big plans and lack of planning get me into messes. Case in point. While turning what once was the kids playroom into a studio/office, I decided that the windowsills were cumbersome and were taking up too much space. (They protruded a whopping 2 inches.) Had my husband been in town, he would have talked me out of it. Temporarily, anyway. But when I get something in my head, I’m pretty determined to see it through. This can be very good. It can also be very bad. Here’s a post from last year. A cautionary tale:

The New Math:

Well, it’s Saturday and I am hard at work in my soon-to-be uber fantastical studio/escape from the world. I am taking a brief respite from the task at hand to give you a brief peek into the glamorous life of me. (Sure, don’t mention it.)

Here’s a new mathematical equation to ponder:

Okee, dokey! Well, I gotta got figure out how I’m going to fix this before my DH gets home. Oh, wait…he reads my blog…DANG! So, how’s your day going?

For the record, I did fix the damage (all by myself thankyouverymuch) and the windowsills now only protrude one inch. So there…

This is also where I came up with the quote,
“The creative spirit cannot be enslaved by the oppressive chains of reason and logical thinking” when Texas Shawn asked me: “Um, what did you set out to do?”

Also the first and only time my husband commented on my blog:

“I guess I should look at the bright side and be grateful that I learned of your handy work via your blog and not a call from the hospital.Curious to learn what your a sculpting.”

So menfolk, the next time your wife complains about you leaving your dirty socks on the floor, look on the bright side, you could be married to me.

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Writer. Me? Hmm…not so sure about that. More like someone who pushes ideas out of her head. Sometimes they land on paper or onto a computer screen,

other times in a brain storming session.

(This waffle pic ended up on the front of a worship CD.)

Then again, these ideas might find themselves on a canvas…

or a wall…

a piece of furniture…


or even a plastic container…

Then there are times when ideas get a bit scrambled on the way out and result in the removal of a windowsill or three by means of a powerful reciprocal saw. But I digress…

The thing about writing—good writing—is it has to be honest. You can’t hide behind technical brilliance or clever sentence structure. These things help convey a better story, but they don’t make the story. You do. Being honest with yourself can be scary. Being honest with yourself with the world reading along can be downright terrifying.

Your story doesn’t have to be factually accurate. Some of the most honest writing is the truth wrapped carefully within a fictional tale. But it shines through in the very best writing.

So today, I want to recognize all of you brave souls whose truth shines through your words—in your poetry, your short stories, your candid observations and even your sarcasm and parody.

Thank you. Reading your truths gives me courage to share my own.

Before I introduce my guest blogger today, I wanted to wish my beautiful, brave, butt-kicking friend Annie K a very Happy Birthday, and invite you to drop in on her blog and do the same. Love you, gal! (Y’all really need to stop having birthdays on Mondays and Wednesday. It messes up my schedule.)

And now back to our regularly scheduled guest post…

I usually write a short intro for the folks that guest post here, but Jeff has done such a good job explaining how our paths crossed on the internets, I’ll just let him tell you. I will go on record as saying that he is one of many chronically sarcastic pastors (my favorite kind of pastors, btw) that somehow find their way to my blog. Wonder why that is…

Here’s Jeff:

I am a youth and children’s pastor in Kalamazoo, MI. The most important thing in my world is my family. My wife’s name is Sarah, and my son’s name is Jakob. I am a nerd. I have no problem with that. I grew up Baptist, but like sheep, I have gone astray. I am non-denominational.

I, like many of you, found this blog by reading funny comments left by Kathy on Stuff Christians Like posts. If I see a comment I like or hate, I usually click on the person’s profile, check out their blog, and start liking them more or disliking them more based on what I see. My first visit here, I found her yelling at some kid for stealing her kid’s Pokemon cards. It was kind of a rant. I like ranting and the idea of being mean to children, so I decided to subscribe. I have been amused, appalled, moved, and incited to rage many times over the last year, and I have enjoyed it.

A few weeks ago, Katdish – I really believe that is her real name, even if her mom calls her something else – pointed out that I had not offered to write a guest post for her blog yet. I was simultaneously flattered and confused. I was flattered, because I am not really a writer’s writer. I don’t think my blog even has a theme. So for someone to ask me to write for their blog is a novel and flattering concept. I was confused, because I don’t know how this guest blogging thing works. I had no idea that you are supposed to offer to guest post on someone else’s blog. I thought they were supposed to ask you. Is offering to write for someone else’s blog not like inviting yourself over to someone else’s house? I think it is exactly the same, and I was never allowed to invite myself over to anyone’s house when I was younger. That explains why I’ve never offered my services to anyone, and probably never will, unless I become really famous, because I’d probably be really arrogant about the whole thing, and I would assume that everyone would want me to write for them. But since she has asked, I will write, and I will tell you about when I met my son.

My wife, Sarah, is Korean, but she has a very light, fair complexion. I am a real whitey, of Jewish and German descent. It doesn’t get much whiter than this. I always looked forward to whenever we would have a child, because I really do think Asian kids are the cutest. My one hangup was that I was disappointed that if we had a child, he would probably not look anything like me.

In January of last year, we learned that Sarah was pregnant. We were so excited. We couldn’t wait to find out the gender. Once we found out that she was having a boy, we started imagining what he would look like. Of course, he would have brown eyes, pin straight brown hair, almond shaped eyes, and a flat nose. He had to, because he was half Korean. Most half-Asian kids I’d seen looked predominately Asian. So we also figured he’d have a little bit darker complexion than me. We were hoping that maybe he could at least have my smile or ears or something.

Sarah had a scheduled c-section. The morning was hectic. They decided that due to previous back injuries that Sarah had sustained, they didn’t want to do an epidural. They just knocked her out. So they escort me to the hall for “just a moment.” A few minutes later, one doctor came out and told me that I had to stay out in the hall. I was pretty upset, because I didn’t even tell Sarah that I loved her or give her a kiss goodbye, which I would have done if I had known. So they station me outside the operating room. I took out my camera, because I wanted to at least video the procedure for Sarah, since she was going to sleep through the whole thing. Not happening. A scrubbed up doctor walked to window, pointed at the camera, and told me to put it away. I couldn’t video. So I took out my other camera to take pictures. Truth be told, I did take a little video with my digital camera, just to spite them. They don’t know, but I feel better about it.

There was a lot of commotion and jerky movements in the delivery room. It looked like the doctors were trying to wretch Jakob free from Sarah’s incision. I was a little nervous, because that’s how I roll. But I kept my eyes trained on the doctor that would no doubt be holding my son up for me to see. After about fifteen minutes, a nurse came up behind me and told me to come with her. I refused. I told her that I had a good view of what was going down, and I wanted to get a picture. She insisted that I come into the next room with her. After a little back-and-forth, I agreed to come.

Inside the room, there was a screaming baby boy. I looked at him for a moment. It meant very little to me. I was too excited to meet my son. I started to walk right past him. There were two delivery rooms over there designated for c-section babies, so I assumed that he had just come from the room behind me. After a few seconds, I noticed that there were tags laying next to this screaming baby – who I found to be very distracting – were little hospital bracelets waiting to be placed on his ankles. They read, “Baby Boy Selph.”

I had no emotional reaction at that moment. The very first thought that popped into my head was, “But he’s white. He should be yellow.” After analyzing his color for a moment, I got excited. I couldn’t believe it. Through the screaming, i could see a few things about him: he had my mouth, his nose wasn’t too flat, he had my hairline, and he was screaming uncontrollably. He actually looked a little like me. It was amazing.

I’m proud to be his dad. He’s beautiful. I know, he’s a boy, and I should say that he’s handsome. He’s that, too. Every time he starts doing something new, I get so excited. I anticipate that even when he aggravates me, I will always think the best of him. He’s my son. And if he ever asks me what I thought the first time I saw him, I will tell him the truth: “But he’s white. He should be yellow.”

Shalom,

Jeff Selph

***

To read more from Jeff Selph, visit him at Selph Inflicted and follow him on the twitter at @jewda4.

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I’m not much for happy, shiny Christian songs. Having said that, there’s something about Trading My Sorrows that helps me remember this passage from 2 Corinthians 4:8-12

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”

I’m trading my sorrow
I’m trading my shame
I’m laying it down for the joy of the Lord

Though the sorrow may last for the night
His joy comes with the morning

***

I choose Joy

Yesterday I chose fear of the unknown
Today I choose trust
Yesterday I chose regret
Today I choose acceptance of a bigger plan
Yesterday I chose to cling to selfish love
Today I choose Love (big “L”)
Yesterday I chose to wallow in what could be
Today I choose whatever God’s will is for my life
Yesterday I chose sorrow
Today I choose Joy
Over fear, over doubt, over worry, over pain…
Today I chose Joy
And am praying that you choose Joy as well.

This post is part of the One Word Blog Carnival: Joy hosted by Bridget Chumbley over at One Word at a Time. You should check it out. And tell her I said hey!

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A postscript concerning my son’s tonsillectomy last week:

Upon further reflection—and when you’re awake all night like I was, there is plenty of time for reflection—it wasn’t the visit to the hospital that worried him. He was okay with the hospital. And it wasn’t even the pain. What worried him the most was the very thing he most looked forward to.

The happy gas.

It’s tough trying to explain a medical procedure to a six-year-old, especially when the ins and outs are pretty vague to his father. I didn’t really know what tonsils and adenoids were, what function they served, or why they were giving him such trouble. But the anesthesia part I knew.
So I told him he got to wear a mask like Batman did and that the air would smell like cotton candy and he’d fall asleep. And while he was asleep the doctors would do their business and make him better.

“You won’t feel a thing,” I told him. “Promise.”

He didn’t believe me.

Experience had taught him otherwise. He’d slept before, and he’d either done things or had things happen that he not only remembered, but felt.

He fell out of the bed twice. Felt that. Bopped his face against the headboard. Felt that, too. He’s also awakened himself by burping, talking, snoring, and coughing. Sometimes all at once.

No way, he thought, no way, would he be able to sleep through someone operating on him.

So I explained that the happy gas wouldn’t just put him asleep, it would put him really asleep, and that the doctor would make sure he stayed that way until everything was finished.

Afterward, once we were home and he was safely on the sofa with his ice cream, I asked him about it.

“I didn’t feel anything,” he said. “I can’t even remember anything.”

And then he said this—“I wish I could have some of that for when I go to school. That way I could just wake up when I got home and I wouldn’t remember any of it.”

Funny, yes. And that definitely pegged him as my son. But he really had a great idea there, at least on the surface. Wouldn’t it be great if we could have some advance warning to the less than perfect things we have to face? And wouldn’t it be great if just before we could put on a Batman mask, breathe some cotton-candy air, and fall asleep through the whole thing?

Yes. It would.

I’ll admit for a while I did my best not to try and poke holes in his Happy Gas Theory. I knew there were some and most likely many. But sometimes we take comfort in those things that aren’t and can never be. That’s what I did while sitting on the sofa with him. I reveled.

But the truth of course was that we had to go through our painful things sometimes. We could slide around some and jump over others, but sooner or later a storm would come that we couldn’t outrun or take cover from, and we were left to stand there in the open under the pour.

Sometimes, that didn’t seem right to me.

It would make more sense to say that if God was there and if God was good, He would take better care of the ones who loved Him. He would make sure our paths were clear. He would prevent the pain and the pour and the doubt. He would take away the fear.

If there was such a thing as everyday happy gas, I thought, then shouldn’t it be God?

Maybe. But maybe that pain and pour and doubt served a purpose that outweighed the need for our happiness. Maybe we needed fear so we could know the value of faith.

Maybe.

I didn’t know for sure, but I thought the odds were good that He’d spared me from a great many troubles in my life without me knowing it. Not happy gas, but maybe something better. And as I looked down and saw my son wince when he tried to swallow, I knew that all the happy gas in the world couldn’t take away all the pain. Some still lingered.

That was true for all of us, I supposed. We were all a collection of bruises and cuts. We all had our tender places.

And I thought that in the end, it was our pain and not our happiness that brought us nearer to heaven.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

The following is taken from My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers. It is from the devotion for April 29. I’ve been meditating on this scripture and Mr. Chambers words this week:

“It doth not yet appear what we shall be.” 1 John 3:2

Naturally, we are inclined to be so mathematical and calculating that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing. We imagine that we have to reach some end, but that is not the nature of spiritual life. The nature of spiritual life is that we are certain in our uncertainty, consequently we do not make our nests anywhere. Common sense says – “Well, supposing I were in that condition . . .” We cannot suppose ourselves in any condition we have never been in. Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life: gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness, it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. Immediately we abandon to God, and do the duty that lies nearest, He packs our life with surprises all the time. When we become advocates of a creed, something dies; we do not believe God, we only believe our belief about Him. Jesus said, “Except ye become as little children.” Spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He is going to do next. If we are only certain in our beliefs, we get dignified and severe and have the ban of finality about our views; but when we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy.

“Believe also in Me,” said Jesus, not – “Believe certain things about Me.” Leave the whole thing to Him, it is gloriously uncertain how He will come in, but He will come. Remain loyal to Him.

I’ve had sort of a weird week. And for me, that’s saying something. Lots of things on my mind. Didn’t sleep very well this week. But I did manage to enhance a few lives through the power of social media just the same.

The best of me (or not) on the twitter this week:

@chrissulli Yeah, spending a week on the beach in the Caribbean sounds pretty crappy. (in reply to chrissulli @katdish its nothing against them. I’ll just be so close then and bored on the beach.)

@billycoffey No. Thank YOU. You big deal, you… (in reply to billycoffey @Daylilie222 @katdish @chrissulli @Julie_Weathers Thanks for the #FF!)

@chrissulli Is your family on twitter? Hope not. (in reply to chrissulli @katdish Ya. First week I’m there I’m on vacation with my fam Think I’m going to be miserable the whole time and ready to go see the kids.)

@chrissulli Good Morning, Chris! Thanks for the RT. Sent you some stuff yesterday. Are you getting excited to get back to the DR?

#FF @billycoffey because he’s kind of a big deal, even though he’ll never admit that.

@buzzbyannies Okay, I’m totally jealous… (in reply to buzzbyannies @katdish Oh I think you secretly are. snort!)

@buzzbyannies NOT jealous. Not at all… (in reply to buzzbyannies @CandySteele See you in Seattle! Woot!)

We cannot suppose ourselves into any condition we have not been in. ~ Oswald Chambers

Certainty is the mark of a common sense life, gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. ~ Oswald Chambers

Agreed! RT @lainiegallagher: @katdish is the coolest!

@dustinlamont Our drummer says that too. Among other things. (in reply to dustinlamont Sorry for the inappropriately simplistic tweet of “poop” by one of my drummers who took my phone. This goes in the history books. Oh matt.)

I can’t complain but sometimes I still do – Joe Walsh

@HeatheroftheEO Thank you! You like me! You really, really like me! (in reply to HeatheroftheEO And the award for The Blog That Hates 100 Things goes to @katdish for http://katdish.blogspot.com/)

@beckfromfrogandtoad Your Catholic Dutch grandmother-in-law? That’s a mouthfull.

@HeatheroftheEO Because seriously. Those are the rules

@HeatheroftheEO Well please make sure in order to win the award, winner must tell 100things about themselves & make 8 other people do so. (in reply to HeatheroftheEO I think I’m going to start my own blog awards. I’ll give away awards like “best colors for a blog” – “prettiest dog on a blog” & stuff.)

Okay. Seriously leaving to run some errands now

@Helenatrandom No silly. I hope you write a short story. (in reply to Helenatrandom @katdish You hope I disintegrate? That’s kind of odd…)

@Helenatrandom Ooo! I hope you do. (in reply to Helenatrandom @katdish haven’t tried fiction since I was in college. If I was any rustier, I’d disintegrate.)

@marni71 Well that settles it. I’m gonna read it! (in reply to marni71 @katdish It would likely be your most stellar #Katrant yet!)

@marni71 Yeah. But that could be an excellent katrant, doncha think? in reply to marni71 @katdish Don’t read The Shack. If u thought The Giving Tree could cause a #Katrant…well, just sayin’.)

I felt that the it embodied the spirit of the actual meaning of IMGNAHS, which is, “I’m gonna need a hack saw.”

The winner for my “guess the acronym” contest is @RobinMArnold, even though her guess of “I might go nuts and hurt someone” was incorrect

Malcolm Gladwell’s writing pretty much fascinates me.

@muchl8r What part of town are you going to see a doctor? (in reply to muchl8r No joke, every bloody doctor i see makes me take my freaking pants off. #Why?!!)

@duane_scott Or else what? You’ll beat me over the head w/an ear of corn? (in reply to duane_scott @katdish It’s one of my favorite books. You got me to read the Gordon book by Stephen King. Now, you read The Shack or else…..)

@duane_scott I have a copy of The Shack. I can’t bring myself to read it. Don’t know why. Just stubborn I guess

@amysorrells You rendered my smart aleck comment useless. (in reply to amysorrells Oops. Smell the PANSIES. (Thanks, @katdish) New blog post: http://ow.ly/1DSt8)

@jmarkowski0 Oh, I love that song! Child of the 80s that I am. (in reply to jmarkowski0 @katdish My kids love that song and The Tubes “She’s a Beauty”, makes me smile every time)

@amysorrells Cracks me up.

My 8 YO daughter just came thru the door singing 867-5309. I love her.

@10MinuteWriter Thanks. That’s encouraging. (in reply to 10MinuteWriter All you grumpy moms out there who think that taking a nap will refresh you: keep in mind that the house WILL be messier when you wake up.)

@Brian_Russell Ooo! That creepy awesome! (in reply to Brian_Russell @katdish Yeah, its just radio, but you used to have to tell it what you liked… now it just… knows.)

@Brian_Russell Okay. But you’re not the boss of me. (in reply to Brian_Russell @katdish Go to Pandora.com and see what I mean.)

@Brian_Russell Okay. That tweet made no sense to me at all. (in reply to Brian_Russell The new Pandora that Facebook stalks you is pretty accurate.)

RT @br8kthru: @weightwhat I asked first but u ignored me! Fine. Since u like crafts, I made u something special: http://yfrog.com/5h181zcj

@Serverman5 Yes! And gross. I hate that place too. (in reply to Serverman5 @katdish oooo, so its like applebys is it? Bad everywhere.)

@Serverman5 You could just remove the “in Round Rock” and that would still be a true statement. (in reply to Serverman5 Salt grass in roundrock blows.)

It seems @buddylovethedog likes them too. http://twitpic.com/1ix4pe

I love the little wildflowers mixed with the grass in the yard. http://twitpic.com/1ix409

My tweetdeck is down. Carry on.

@redclaydiaries Twitpics? (in reply to redclaydiaries Note to self: harem pants are not a good daytime look. #peoplewatchinginthemall)

@jewda4 Thanks. It’s what I do. (in reply to jewda4 @katdish you have corrupted an originally clean tweet about hard work and ingenuity. job well done!)

@prodigaljohn And sometimes they cost sweaty money. And involve a stripper pole. (in reply to prodigaljohn Most dreams don’t cost money. They cost sweat.)

@Doallas I could probably break her down. It’s been done many times before. (in reply to Doallas RT @katdish: Man, I wish my writing could inspire stories like this everyday!: http://bit.ly/aZUjR3 //I wish Louise would get on Twitter.)

@lainiegallagher Do you mean Dave my computer table, or that dorky strap on lap top desk from the Skymall? (in reply to lainiegallagher @katdish Don’t you have some kind of awesome laptop desk or something that you were touting a while back?)

@weightwhat Okay dang….that’s just wrong on so many levels. (in reply to weightwhat @katdish By any chance did you cut your hair and take a trip to Walmart? http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/?p=12891)

Okay. Off to take a power nap!

Confession No. 2 of the day: I need a nap. I’m on like 3 hours sleep. Sometimes I can’t shut my brain down, & now I’m paying for it

@CassandraFrear It is good. Gotta work w/in the confines of what we are capable of. But we’re capable of much more than we know. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish Well, that just shows how unique each person is. We learn to work with what we’ve been given. It’s good.)

@CassandraFrear a LOT!!!! (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish I just Googled Low Carb Monster. See what you started? How much caffiene is in one?)

@CassandraFrear For today, yes. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish So are you off coffee completely?)

@CassandraFrear No. I’ve switched to low carb monster. It’s after lunch, after all. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish Thanks. Got any coffee?)

Who says you can’t find quality you tube videos on the Smartypants Blog? I do! http://bit.ly/b66sUw

@CassandraFrear Well, welcome aboard the crazy train. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish And just think. I’ve decided to be a writer.)

@CassandraFrear I was putting “air quotes” around the word “special”. Some things get lost in translation (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish I just Googled “air quotes”. It didn’t help me understand your last tweet. Clue?)

@CassandraFrear Sorry. You know when someone says something & the put their 2 fingers of each hand up to indicate something in quotes?

@CassandraFrear “air quotes” (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish Well, I have trouble with meanings AND spellings. That’s because I’m special.)

So, I got the most AMAZING note in the mail this week. Never hesitate if you feel lead to encourage someone. It truly blessed me

@CassandraFrear Oh, that’s way too practical for me! (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish My editor husband inserted American Heritage Dictionary in my bookmarks bar. http://bit.ly/cBSmL9 I use it often.)

Confession: I use google as my go-to spell check engine at least twice a day.
Writers: @spressfield has a great writing post every Wednesday: http://bit.ly/2s7zRq

@lainiegallagher Hello there! Welcome to the twitter! Now go get yourself an avatar. That bird creeps me out.

@redclaydiaries Nice! http://twitpic.com/1ihap3

@PeterPollock You are a strange man, Peter Pollock. (in reply to PeterPollock Just touched a stingray. It felt like jello. Or pudding. It’s making me hungry)

So many mailboxes, so little time. http://twitpic.com/1i2v84

@cascheller It’s funny because it’s true… (in reply to cascheller @katdish I like the Moms Are Better than Dads T-shirt.)

@redclaydiaries I gotta be me…or Bon Qui Qui. Whichever is applicable. (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish RUDE.)

@redclaydiaries Ah will cut you… (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Sorry/you’re welcome. I wonder if they deliver in Texas…)

@redclaydiaries Oh GAAAAA!!! Make it stop! (in reply to redclaydiaries Reading about new kids’ birthday fad: http://bit.ly/9QqMWx So @katdish, is THIS how you were scarred for life?)

I’m at my dad’s house: Land of crappy internet. The epic twitter update has been posted (finally)

Not really a post today. Sorry about that. The thing is, I’m not as strong as I think I am sometimes. I struggle. I fight with God instead of surrenduring to Him. Ask anyone who knows me well and they will tell you I can be the most stubborn person in the world. That can be a very good thing and a very bad thing.

I’m dealing with something that is very scary for me. It could be nothing, it could be life changing. All I know is I need to stop being afraid and simply surrender and trust. Because even though I understand on a head level that God is in control, I need to understand it from my heart.

Back to the regularly scheduled program tomorrow. Thanks for indulging me.

Let it Go (by Tenth Avenue North)

I’ve been holding on so tight
Look at these knuckles
They’ve gone white
I’m fighting for who I wanna be
I’m just trying to find security

But You say let it go, You say let it go
You say life is waiting for the ones that lose control
You say you will be, everything I need
You said if I lose my life it’s then I’ll find my soul
You say let it go.

Well it’s hard enough to hear
Harder still, to move beyond this fear
We know there’s nothing I can bring,
So tell me what do you want from me?

But You say let it go, You say let it go
You say life is waiting for the one to lose control
You say You will be, everything I need
You said if I lose my life it’s then I’ll find my soul
You say let it go, You say let it go

What do I love?
What do I hate?
What will I lose?
What will I gain?
How do I save my soul?
What if I bend?
What if I break?
What will it cost?
What will it take?
For you to save my soul.

You say let it go, You say let it go
You say life is waiting for the one to lose control
You say You will be, everything I need
You said if I lose my life it’s then I’ll find my soul

You say let it go, You say let it go
You say life is waiting for the one to lose control
You say you will be, everything I need
You said if I lose my life it’s then I’ll find my soul
You say let it go, You say let it go

image courtesy of photobucket.com

Several weeks ago, I received an encouraging, beautiful handmade card from a friend. She contacted me a few days earlier, asked for my mailing address and let me know she would be sending it. This card is pinned to the bulletin board in my office right next to my beloved picture of Boz Dog. Then earlier this week, as I was looking through the mail, I spyed another envelope from this lovely person.

I opened the envelope to find a note card that simply said, “@katdish ~ You are “She”. Also enclosed was a writing by Kobi Yamada entitled “She”:

She must be something special. She is. Celebrate her.
She loved life and it loved her back. Celebrate her passion.
She listened to her heart above all other voices. Celebrate her wisdom.
She pursued big dreams instead of small realities. Celebrate her priorities.
She saw every ending as a new beginning. Celebrate her resiliency.
She discovered her real measurements had nothing to do with numbers or statistics. Celebrate her self esteem.
She was kind, loving and patient…with herself. Celebrate her tenderness.
She woke up one day and threw away all her excuses. Celebrate her accountability.
She realized that she was missing a great deal by being sensible. Celebrate her spirit.
She turned her can’ts into cans, and her dreams into plans. Celebrate her goals.
She ignored people who said it couldn’t be done. Celebrate her independence.
She had a way of turning obstacles into opportunities. Celebrate her magic.
She went out on a limb, had it break off behind her, and discovered she could fly. Celebrate her faith.
She discovered she was the one she’d been waiting for. Celebrate her self-reliance.
She added so much beauty to being human. Celebrate her presence.
She walked in when everyone else walked out. Celebrate her friendship.
She just has this way of brightening the day. Celebrate her radiance.
She made the whole world feel like home. Celebrate her warmth.
She decided to enjoy more and endure less. Celebrate her choices.
She decided to start living the life she’d imagined. Celebrate her freedom.
She colored her thoughts with only the brightest hues. Celebrate her optimism.
She was an artist and her life was her canvas. Celebrate her brilliance.
She ran ahead where there were no paths. Celebrate her bravery.
She crossed borders recklessly, refusing to recognize limits, saying bonjour and buon giorno as though she owned both France and Italy and the day itself. Celebrate her joie de vivre.
She held her head high and looked the world straight in the eye. Celebrate her strength.
She not only saw a light at the end of the tunnel she became that light for others. Celebrate her compassion.
She designed a life she loved. Celebrate her joy.
She took the leap and built her wings on the way down. Celebrate her daring.
She said bye-bye to unhealthy relationships. Celebrate her happiness.
She remained true to herself. Celebrate her authenticity.
She made the world a better place. Celebrate her.

I am certainly not she. But I strive to be. And I wanted to share this with you today because I want you to encourage you as the sender of this wonderful blessing disguised in an envelope encouraged me.

Celebrate you.

Thank you, my friend.

I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. Jon Acuff of Stuff Christians Like was the inspiration for me to start blogging in the first place. (You may send him angry e-mails at jon@stuffchristianslike.net). If Jon’s blog was just about the writing, I’d still be a huge fan, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about community. The comments section of SCL is that community, and it is awesome. One of the charter members of what I refer to as the “SCL Posse” is Becky Miller, who is also awesome:

I met Katdish on Stuff Christians Like. Then we became Twitter friends when I decided to cyber-stalk the frequent SCL commenters, figuring that if we all liked Jon’s sense of humor and perspective on faith, we’d have a lot in common.

Kathy generously invited me to guest post here to introduce my new blog, How-To Hospitality. I’m a wife and mother in New England who entertains a LOT. I’m also clumsy and easily sidetracked. This means I’ve had more than my fair share of hospitality foibles. I started How-To Hospitality to tell on myself and my hospitality fails and wins, hoping to help others in the process.

In keeping with Hey Look, A Chicken!’s skymalladocious posts, I present:

Five Ways Sky Mall Takes Your Entertaining from Everyday to Epic

Let’s face it. The people who shop at Sky Mall are better than us. They make more money. They live in bigger houses. They have cooler gadgets. It stands to reason, then, that their parties are better than ours. What are some of your parties’ problems, and how can Sky Mall meet those needs?

1. Problem: Store-bought soda is boring and predictable
Solution: Soda Maker Kits! $129.99

Make your own fresh soda with this machine. Not only will this take your beverage selection up a notch, the product description actually promises to save the planet.

2. Problem: Your fruit bowl is not tropical enough
Solution: Palms Fruit Hammock! $29.99

Your mangoes and coconuts should feel at home in an island-like environment. This product not only keeps your fruit fresher longer, it also adds that extra touch of authenticity to your luau theme. The only problem I foresee is having guests constantly ask, “What’s up with your banana hammock?”

3. Problem: You aren’t strong enough to scoop your own ice cream
Solution: Microwaveable Ice Cream Scoop! $4.97

My mom once told me about a girl she knew in high school who had a normal left forearm and a ginormous right forearm. The girl’s summer job? Working at an ice cream stand. Don’t let that happen to you. Buy this scoop today.

4. Problem: You broke your punch bowl by filling it with salad, putting it in the fridge, then later fishing for mustard on the back part of the shelf, inadvertently knocking the punch bowl out and shattering it on the floor.*
Solution: Lighted Party Fountain! $49.99

*Er, wait, maybe that was only me. You might not need this punch fountain after all.

5. Problem: Your guests don’t want to hold their own root beer cans
Solution: Tex the Armadillo Can Holder! $29.95 (each)

Supply each of your guests with one of these darling figurines to hold their beverages. Don’t forget homemade wine glass tags for each ‘dillo. Martha Stewart has some lovely ideas for making your own wine glass tags.

But that’s another post. Martha Stewart’s parties are better than ours, too.

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To read more from Becky Miller, visit her at How-To Hospitality and follow her on the twitter at @miller_schloss.