The Closest I Ever Want to be to Another Cat

For lo these many years, I've wanted to know the words to a song I liked as a child. I knew some of the words. In fact, I knew most of them. It was just a couple of verses near the end that I just couldn't recall. I remembered that it was also a favorite of my sister, Tanya, but I just never could seem to ask her whenever I talked to her. The fact that she's quite a talker may also have contributed to my lapse of memory. A part of me also hesitated, though, because I inwardly believed that if she didn't remember, I'd have no other recourse.

The longing for these lyrics pre-dated the advent of the www (hard to imagine). As the web became more popular, simple and accessible, I'd occasionally have the thought that therein might lie my solution. But I always sort of pooh-poohed that notion. After all, my childhood was a long time ago. Well not that long. And it was probably quite an obscure song. Also the aforementioned amnesia always seemed to afflict me when I was online as well.

Well, the other day the amnesia seemed to fade. I was actually online and recollecting at the same time. But then came the paralyzing fear. What if it were true that my childhood was so long ago and my song was so obscure and... I rebuked that fear and googled that song! And I found it. There were my long lost lyrics to "Senor Don Gato!" I was so happy! I sat there singing every last word from the screen, with a big silly grin on my face! I sighed with contentment, having achieved a long-desired end.

Yeah, that's close enough for me...

Lessons From the Valley

I've been waiting and waiting. I remember a gospel song that talked about "an uncloudy day." Gospel songs are good for making up new words. But you got the message.

I've been waiting for a pain-free day to talk about the lessons I've learned. I wanted to be able to speak in the past tense. Even if it was only for a day. That hasn't happened. So, okay - I've still learned (and am re-learning) some things.

God loves me. He knows I'm imperfect. He knows I'm immensely challenged by trust issues. And He loves me anyway.

Even in the worst pain, He's still there. This experience has been almost indescribable. Though anybody who's close to me knows I sure have tried. It's like nothing I ever imagined. But even at the worst, He was there. Sometimes I could only confess the Word in my head. Sometimes I confessed the Word out loud while my head was screaming, "I can't take this." But He was there. Sometimes I've felt outright crazy. He was still there.

And I don't mean He was there in a passive sense. I hate wimpy Jesus depictions. That's one thing I loved about "The Passion of the Christ." Even a movie critic's review I read described him as the buffest Jesus he'd ever seen. God is strong. But He wasn't with me strong and passive. I felt that strength flow into me. He upheld me. And still does. He's getting me through.

So, I'm not camping out in this valley. I'm not laying a foundation or even pitching a tent. I don't know what lies ahead. But one of the first Scriptures I ever learned as a little girl was Psalm 23 (KJV). "Yea, though I walk through the valley..."

Me and Jesus (you heard) are walking THROUGH. The valley of pain is not my permanent address.

And The Band Played On

I went to choir rehearsal last Tuesday evening, only to find out that it was the final one. Our choir was disbanded. The decision came down from on high (or somewhere) that none of the current (or future) smaller campuses would have an actual choir. We'll just have the front line (basically our worship leaders). I was not prepared for that. It came as a blow and definitely saddened me. However, when I examined my disappointment more fully, I had to acknowledge that it wasn't entirely centered around the choir's demise. It was also affected by my feeling of not having fully stepped up to the plate. It's seemed that there's been so much going on, so many distractions, that I hadn't been fully committed or participatory. I kept trying to "get back on track," but somehow the time commitment always seemed a little much, or I was too tired, or something else took precedence. It was like being torn in two. Our lead front liner told us that she was positive that God had already been speaking to each of us about our future direction, because she knew Him too well to believe that it was otherwise. As always, I feel pulled in different directions. All I know for sure is, I never feel more engaged or alive than when I'm worshiping Him. And the only instrument I have is my voice. So, I'll let Him lead.

What The Successful Single Girl Does for Valentine's Day (Weekend)

Happy Valentine's/President's Day! Since it's a long holiday weekend, I'm appreciative. Last night at my new singles small group, we got a different perspective from someone from Colombia. She said that in her country it's called "Friends and Lovers Day." At least I think that's what she said. Anyway, her point was to ask us if it's true that in America it's basically a day for couples. We had to admit that it was. Then we proceeded to discuss what significance the holiday (Valentine's Day, not President's Day) has for singles. Of course we talked at length about God's love.

At work today, there were several deliveries of flowers for various ladies. The rest of us smiled wistfully and congratulated them. One delivery was different. It was a Fed Ex package from Zales. A couple of us joined in to help the recipient open it. We speculated on what it might contain. The recipient opened the package and handed the small box to our other co-worker, while I guess she was looking to see if there was anything else in the package. I asked, "Do you think it's earrings?" She didn't. She pulled out a card. So there I stood with the card, our co-worker had the box, and the recipient had the now empty container. She told the other girl to open the box. It contained a diamond anniversary band. She directed me to read the card. It said something like, "To my dear wife; we made it!" We two non-recipients ahhhed. Not so the addressee. She snatched the ring away, stared at it and exclaimed, "Square diamonds! Square diamonds! He knows I only like round diamonds!" She then began to examine the invoice carefully to determine if the fault lay with him or with Zales. The last I saw of her, she was on their website trying to track down her "correct" ring. I'm still flabbergasted!

I think I'll just go to the Toby Mac concert tomorrow...

Keeping Count

Recently a man in his forties wheeled another guy of about the same age into my office.  The guy in the chair had recently been in a really bad car accident and wanted to know whether or not he had disability coverage on his truck loan.  Side note: I still find it amazing (especially considering that this guy was in such bad shape) that people actually get into a car and drive to the branch to find out something they could easily find out over the phone.  Anyway, as he began to relate to me the severity of his injuries and how lengthy his recovery was going to be (about a year) and how much he thought I'd like to see his x-rays (I declined), I was diligently searching through the system trying to find the aforementioned coverage.  Unfortunately, it turned out that he had not elected to have disability coverage.  Instead, he'd chosen life insurance.  When I informed him of this, he asked me, "Then, in other words, if I die, my truck gets paid off?"  When I responded in the affirmative, he said, "That's the same as with my house."  The he turned to his brother-in-law (the wheeler guy) and said, "I guess I know what I need to do."

He was the second person that week to allude to suicide in my office.  I tried to be as encouraging to him as I could and reminded him that we were only talking about things and that he was important to his family.

I hear so many sad stories, so many tales of misfortune.  I'm absolutely determined to count my blessings, to not lose sight of the good things.  Yeah, the bad stuff is still there.  I'm just going to choose to focus less on it.  I'm keeping count.

A Voice in the Wilderness

Christmas Day at the beach: it just doesn't get any better. We waded, splashed a little, played in the sand, and generally lolled around. I loved it! An incident that day, though, will definitely be etched in my memory.

We were just kind of chilling, relaxing on the sand, when we heard the easily recognizable sound of an engine being gunned. We turned to see a local village idiot doing donuts not too far down the beach from us. I sighed with frustration. My day at the beach was an opportunity to have some time away from the we-couldn't-give-a-flip general attitude in my neighborhood. Now it was being disrupted by this bozo. While I sat there fuming in impotent frustration, a lone woman started walking from nearby us toward the bozo's jeep. I speculated out loud as to what her purpose might be. She just kept walking. A friend was with her, but she allowed her buddy to walk alone. So did all the rest of the beach goers, including myself. The Lone Stranger kept walking. Finally, Bozo noticed, and halted his antics. She stopped in her tracks. When he observed her stopping, he recommenced his inconsiderate behavior. She then proceeded to head straight for him. At first, everyone just continued to stare at her. I guess they were just as speculative as I (and possibly even a little amazed). But she kept on walking. Then, one by one, people started to join her in her walk. None as purposefully, but they joined her nonetheless. And still she walked. By this time she was a little bit of a distance from us, but I continued to watch. Finally, her determination caused Bozo to back down. Slowly he began to back his vehicle off the beach. And still she walked. Then he sped up a bit, and made a less than impressive exit. She stood her ground until she was sure he was really going this time, and then she continued with her stroll down the beach.

I confess, I felt a little disappointed in myself and even a little ashamed. Here I regularly upbraid my neighbors (wholly unknown) for their lackadaisical attitudes towards the general environment and safety of Murray Hill. However, when confronted with an opportunity to take a stand against boorish behavior, I did nothing. It was a definite wake-up call. Like Samson of old, I'll shake myself.

Incidental Ignorance

Whenever people want to demonstrate how unbiased we are, we often start by saying, "One of my best friends is (fill in the blank)."  So, why break with tradition?

One of my best friends is a dual minority.  By that I mean by virtue of ethnicity and sexual orientation.  Despite this, on more than one occasion he's mentioned to me that (in his search for a new house) he visited one owned by black people and it was still "nice and clean."  The first time he said that, it really caught me off guard.  I thought I must have misunderstood.  Since then, he's repeated the comment another time or two.  I find it quite perplexing that someone of his age (who I'm sure must have experienced some form of discrimation at least once in his life) could be so oblivious to the fact that that would be considered a prejudicial statement.

By the same token, it's amazing how many ethnically ambiguous expressions are still a part of the common vernacular.  Some of my co-workers have talked about having a "Chinese gift exchange" for Christmas.  Who hasn't heard of a "Chinese fire drill" or a "Mexican stand-off." When cheated, do we say "I got gypped!"?  Or if someone takes something back from us do we call them an "Indian-giver?"  I could go on.  It's just so easy to be so careless with speech.  It's so easy to not realize how a group can be marginalized or even denigrated by a seemingly harmless word or phrase.  It's so easy to not think before we speak.

I'm going to be on the lookout for the next time my friend makes that statement.