I like me...

"Just when you think you know the answers, I change the questions." -- "Rowdy" Roddy Piper

Del: "You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I'm an easy target. Yeah, you're right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you... but I don't like to hurt people's feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I'm not changing. I like... I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. 'Cause I'm the real article. What you see is what you get."


I had a rough day yesterday. Sigh.

It happens to all of us, I know.

Still, I was really disappointed in how I handled some things that came up.

And what did I do about it, you ask?

I began to beat myself up about it.

Let's talk about this for a moment, okay?

My friends, I have a guilty pleasure.

(And because you are my friends...I will tell you about this. But you have to promise not to laugh...or judge me...okay?)

I am a fan of professional wrestling.

I have been since the 7th grade. When I saw Rowdy Roddy Piper...a 'real man in a kilt'...ahhh.

I have tried to get over it...I understand that it's fake and all...I know it's nothing like 'real' wrestling.

And I still don't care. I enjoy watching it. And admit it...it's got some 'good theatre' stuff goin' on!!
Okay...so you don't have to admit anything...and it really doesn't matter if you want to argue with me about it...because...like Del Griffith...I'm not changing.

But yesterday...

yesterday I found myself wrestling with something...

wrestling with some miscellaneous gal's opinion of me.

("Let's get ready to RUMMMMMMBBBBLLLE!" In this corner of the ring....CARRIE!")

And I found myself caring way too much about it.

(OOMPH! "Oh, you know what, Gorilla? That's gonna leave a mark! Carrie is really feelin' some pain now! What do you think she'll do next?")

Oh, I tried to laugh it off at first.

("She's going for the laugh, Bobby. A move that just might work!")

But it didn't stick.

(POW! "Oh...too bad! She couldn't hold onto that laugh, Gorilla. She's not looking happy!")

I changed to doubt. Maybe this person was right about me...

(BAM! "What is going on with Carrie? She hasn't seen a low like this for a while! She's DOUBTING HERSELF? Ohhh...I don't like the looks of this match, Bobby.")

I longed for a tag team match. I wanted someone in my corner...you know, to verify me.

("She's looking around, Gorilla...for a partner....but this is not a tag team match! It's ONE on ONE! What is she thinking?")

I considered hitting below the belt. An eye for an eye. Insult me, will you?? Why...I'll just get in there and show you, Miss Cellaneous Gal! I'm the Champion of the Verbal Attack, remember?!

("If I know Carrie, Bobby...she's considering using one of her old standby moves...the Verbal Attack. It could be useful to her right now!" "I agree, Gorilla. Not many can handle that kind of action. But she hasn't sunk to that kind of low in a long time!" "Let's see what she does!")

I went to bed and slept on it.

("Gorilla! It's a sleeper hold...not a Verbal Attack!" "Bobby...it's a good move. But will it help her?")

It helped some. But the match wasn't quite over...

("We're still here, folks! And this battle isn't over yet! Both opponents have a good chance at winning! Let's get back to the action! Carrie is still letting Miss Cellaneous Gal's remark get to her! She's running it over and over in her head! Oh! The humanity! I can't watch this, Gorilla!!")

It wasn't looking good. But then...

("Bobby! Look! She's down! Wait! Who's that?")

I remembered Whose opinion counts. That there is Someone WAY STRONGER than Miss Cellaneous Gal. Someone on my side....my Manager!

("This is incredible, folks! Just incredible! Carrie's manager has just entered the ring and is speaking to Carrie. And look, Bobby! She's getting up!")

I spoke to my Manager...who told me that I didn't need to win this match. Because it had already been decided...and I was not....a loser.

("SHE'S LEAVING THE RING, GORILLA! She's limping...holding onto the hand of her Manager and leaving the ring! Unbelievable!" "Not if you know anything about Carrie's Manager, Bobby!")

My friends...I tell you encouraging things because sometimes it's hard for us to tell them to ourselves, isn't it? Sometimes we start to believe the lies about ourselves...maybe because we've heard them over and over again. Maybe because we're listening to the wrong people. People who don't even know us...and make assumptions based on very little info.

My words aren't meant to sound clever or cute...or cliche'...or to make you feel all warm and cuddly inside...even tho it may appear that way. I'm still just a person with an opinion...just like you. And you can choose to believe me or not...but listen to me for a second, okay...?

You see, I've been listening to my Manager...and He's so...so...so...good at Truth. And He wants to be your Manager too! And any words of encouragement I've learned...I learned from Him.

I like me. My Manager likes me...and really...in the end...that's all that matters...

Who wants to be amazing?

Yesterday I got online and checked to see when we could expect our tax refund money to arrive at our bank.

It's kinda important.

You see, we need to put a roof on our house and we could also use a new mattress. Okay...we want a new mattress. I also want a new dining room table and chairs...but I don't think that's gonna happen.

At least not with the refund money.

We'll have to think of something else in regards to the table and chairs. And since you asked...

(you DID ask, right?)

There isn't anything technically wrong with the table and chairs we have in there right now. They just don't match the rest of the look of the room. They're fully functional. But they're the wrong color. And if we got a new one...our room would be amazing!

At least...that's what I tell myself. You know...to try and justify my want.

Cuz that's what it is, friends!

It's a want. Not a need.

Sigh...took me a while to work that out...

However, we NEED a new roof. We have put it off for far too long, and before we start seeing some really serious damage...we have to replace it.

And for the record....I don't care what bloomin' color the roof is....we just need a new one!

Got me to thinking about wants and needs...

sigh...

I hate thinking about things like that sometimes. You know...sometimes...just for a little while....I like to think about all the stuff I could buy if I had cash at my disposal. If money were no object...

Then I turn on the tv and there's Oprah.

Now...please understand, my friends...that I am NOT a regular Oprah viewer. In fact, I don't care much for her show. But this particular program was about hoarding and clutter. So I found the subject matter interesting.

If you may recall, I've been in a process of de-cluttering my house. Getting rid of stuff that I don't want or need anymore.

It's been quite freeing. And it's easier to clean the house when there's less stuff.

When I saw all the things that the people on the show had piled in their house...it was eye opening.

Wow...too.much.stuff.

And you know why? There were issues of want.....versus....need.

(she gingerly steps onto her soapbox)

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...lend me your ears...

Stuff doesn't make you feel better. Stuff doesn't solve your problems. Stuff doesn't give you control.

Stuff hurts. Stuff causes more problems. And in the end, your stuff will control you.

(she gets off the soapbox and puts it away)

We justify our purchases. We say, "I need this thing because...."

and sometimes...like putting off getting a new roof for five years....it's truth. We DO need that thing. I think that we'd all agree that a home isn't very good without a roof.

but if we say, "I need a new table and chairs...because even those these work just fine...they don't match the rest of my stuff."...

we're using the wrong word. We WANT a new table and chairs. We already have a table and chairs...but they're not enough.

Hm....

Not enough.

I think about those words want and need in other areas of my life as well.

I want people to understand me. I need help with things. I want to be happy.

(I need to get a check up...and oh...by the way....I don't want to get a check up.)

Maybe I need people to understand me. I want help with things. I need to be happy.

It's interesting how using the other word makes the sentence sound different...isn't it?

There's a fine line between self-centeredness (I want that!)...and survival (I need this.).

And you know what?

You know what?

I can't determine which side you're on. Not all the time. Only you can determine what's truth about the dining room table and chairs in your home. Maybe...you do NEED them.

But I do know this. LISTEN TO ME. You are not your stuff.

Stuff is not what makes you a good person or a bad person. Stuff is...is just...stuff. You came into this world without any stuff...and they say that you can't take it with you when you go...so...what you have in the way of things isn't what makes you special.

Or smart. Or caring. Or funny. Or amazing.

You know what?

You know what? You are amazing. Look in the mirror and tell yourself today that you don't need stuff to be amazing.

My friends, I want you to have a good day. And I need another cup of coffee...

No...seriously. I need it.

Okay...okay....I want another cup of coffee. Sigh...

(I gotta be more careful about what I write about....sheesh...)

Take the first right and keep on goin'!

Last week I went to a parents meeting for incoming freshmen. My daughter will be one of those incoming...(look out!!! INCOMING!!!!) and I'm not quite sure I'm ready...(wait...who's the incoming one again???)

So that's what the meeting was about. To help parents get ready. Specifically, it was about helping the freshmen-to-be work out their class schedules for the fall. The guidance counselors were there...available for questions...and to provide updated info on some things.

Like drivers education.

Because of law changes in Illinois, kids have to have nine months with a permit. That means that the classes themselves have to be 'backed up' to allow that time...so there are freshmen taking drivers ed now. Hurrah.

It'll be okay, Carrie.

Yeah, I know. I was just a little freaked out there for a second. Freshmen. Drivers Ed.

Whoa.......(shakes it off)

Sorry, talking to myself a little. It happens sometimes when I'm afraid I'm not listening.

Anywhoo.....

I remember something that happened early in my own driving career. I hadn't had my license for very long...and my sister and her friend wanted to go to Market Place Mall. So the three of us piled into my Mom's Plymouth Horizon...(stop sniggering!) and down the interstate we went.

(We're off to see the Mall....the wonderful Market Place Mall...we hear it is...a heck of a biz...if ever a biz at all...)

(Don't even ask. I have no idea where that just came from. I would like to take this moment to clarify that we were most likely singing along to Boy George and Culture Club...NOT making up our own words to the Wizard of Oz...but that's not much consolation, is it??)

Okay...so we get to the Mall...and (I'll tumble 4 ya...I'll tumble for you! ahem...sorry!) and I park outside of Bergner's. Now there are three potential entrances to Bergner's at the Mall (if my memory is serving me correctly...which...given the way the blog sounds so far...well, don't take my word for it!). We park the Horizon...lock it up...(snort...like there was a chance someone would steal it???!!) and head inside.

Long story short...

we power window shop...stop by Baskin-Robbins...get a cone...stop by Spencer's Gifts to check out the cool posters in the back....sigh...(all out of Bruce THE BOSS Springsteen AGAIN!)...and head past Camelot Music and listen to more Boy George....(okay...no...we didn't do that. Well, I'm pretty sure we stopped by Camelot's...but we didn't listen to Boy George....at least I didn't. I'm not going to speak for my sister. Or Wendy...her friend. Altho I will say that Wendy was a prime candidate for some Boy George music...but I digress!)

So...we get ready to leave said Mall...and walk out of Bergner's...happy go lucky teens that we are. (er...were.)

And head for the Horizon.

Which...isn't...where...I...parked....it.

Hm.

Huh.

Wow.

Well...um...hm.

That went on for about ten minutes...and then panic set in. "THE CAR'S BEEN STOLEN! AUGH! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO???!!! STUPID MALL!!! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO MAKE ME CRY????"

(can't. stop. Culture. Club. help!)

Someone...I'm going to give the credit here to Wendy...altho I'm not sure it actually belongs to her...but I KNOW I wasn't the 'voice of reason' at that moment....said,

"Hey...when we went in...we went past the women's section. But didn't we come out past the shoes or something?"

We blink. We look at each other. We turn and look at the door. We head back inside and sure enough...we had exited the building out of a different door...and....as parking lots look all the same...really...we thought we were in the right place...but we weren't.

Out the correct door we go...and there is the Plymouth. Waiting for us. Safe and sound.

I felt very foolish. And we all pinky swore never to tell anyone about it.

Um.......

Hm.

Well.

Wow.

I...um....I just blew that. Yeah...yeah I did. So...could you keep that story to yourself? Thanks.

Recently I offered to give someone directions to my church...(in the church of the poison my hi hind....in the church of the...no! Not that church!! augh! I cannot get Boy George out of my head now!!!!)

and their response to my offer was, "My car's got GPS. I think I can find it just fine. Thanks."

And my response was, "You've got GPS in your Plymouth Horizon? Really?"

(no...snort...that wasn't my response! What is my problem today??)

Perhaps the days of asking folks for directions are gone now...but we still need to know where we're headed, don't we? We still need someone/something to help us find our way to our destination. Whether we're freshmen looking for our Biology 1 class at a new school...or teens at the mall...wandering in the parking lot and crying their eyes out afraid of the wrath of their mom for letting the Horizon get stolen or...ahem...or just driving somewhere...we could all use a little assistance from time to time.

My friends...it's easy to think that you're on the right track...when you're actually exiting by the shoe department and going out the wrong door. It doesn't take much of a wrong turn to get you into trouble. So ask for help. Seek some guidance. Ask for directions. You know...for when you 'come and go'...

(you come and go.....oh...oh....Karma Karma....OKAY! That's it! Enough! I'm putting on my headphones and listening to something else on my new MP3 player...um...could somebody read the directions for me? I don't know Japanese...sigh...where's a teen when you need them??)

At auction, this piece would be worth...

There's a game we play on Monday evenings at our house sometimes.

It's a companion game to a television program.

Where we (my family) try to guess the value of something before the expert tells us.

Have you ever seen Antiques Roadshow?

People bring their 'stuff' to the 'stuff experts' at AR...and they (the experts) tell people how valuable (or not!) their stuff is.

If you like antiques, watch the show.

If you like to learn about history, watch the show.

If you want to know how much that old thingamajig is that's sitting on your shelf, watch the show.

If you want to see some really ugly, valuable stuff...watch the show.

Seriously.

There's some really, really, really weird stuff on AR.

And when we're playing the 'guess the worth' game...inevitably I want to say that the ugly stuff isn't worth as much as the shiny stuff.

Sometimes that's the case. Sometimes...according to the 'stuff experts'...the damage to a piece affects it's worth. Books are notorious for this. Quilts are notorious for this. Pottery is too. Furniture is as well.

Artwork...can sometimes have this problem...but so often the 'stuff experts' tell folks how they can repair or restore the artwork.

Books and pottery, quilts and furniture are not like artwork. They don't just hang prettily on a wall generally.

They're used. They get dirty...and handled...on a daily basis.

They give us comfort, entertain us, inform us, keep us warm....give us a place to put a drink in...and a place to put a drink on. They serve...and by serving...they can become damaged.

Sometimes the damage is from someone else's hand. The pottery gets chipped, a page falls out of the book, the quilt frays...or becomes faded...and the handles don't always match.

And the 'stuff experts' tell folks that they aren't worth much.

Because they aren't in pristine condition. Because they're damaged.

So the worth is measured by others. The 'stuff experts'...and me....as I watch.

Sometimes I'm right. Or close.

Most of the time...I'm way off! I had no idea that that whozeewhatsit was worth that much!

What's really funny to watch is the reaction of the owners of the stuff. When they find out the value of their items.

Some are so surprised that they cry...or laugh in disbelief...or stand there...speechless.

Some are upset because they paid too much for their item.

Some are not happy because they find out that what they thought was authentic...was actually fake.

To some...the object is a family heirloom that...no matter the cost...they (the owner) would never part with it.

To others...the 'garage sale bargain' is found out to be worth a lot...and you can actually see the dollar signs in their eyes as they consider what might happen if they sell it.

A person can learn a lot from Antiques Roadshow. If they look close enough.

Imagine for a moment...that you are an object on AR.

Are you damaged? Very old? Fake? Authentic? In pristine condition? A family heirloom? A book? A lamp? A piece of pretty art? A garage sale bargain? Weird looking?

Now...consider for a moment who is measuring your worth. Are you more interested in what the 'stuff experts' think of you? Or the goofy people who like to look at you and 'guess'...?

Now...think about this: Think about the folks who don't care how much the 'experts' say their stuff is worth...because they will never part with it. Regardless of the price they paid for it...or how damaged it is...or how much the stuff could be worth at auction....they clutch it to their hearts and say, "It's mine. I love it. I will not let it go."

My friends, there is Someone clutching you to His heart today. And He knows exactly how much you are worth...ripped pages, cracks, weird-looking...He knows...and He will not let you go.

Gene Kelly knew what he was doing!

It's raining here right now...sigh...it's rained all day.

I'm a little tired of it.

Okay. I'm MORE than a little tired of it.

I'm SOOOOO Ready for some sunny weather!!! AUGH!!!!

I mean, I normally enjoy rain. I like how things smell after a rain....and I like the sound of rain on the roof...and how everything looks brighter after it rains. But I'm missing the sun. And that kinda annoys me.

So what do I do when I'm annoyed...and it's raining?

Yep...you're right. I get on my computer. And waste time. Most recently I've been wasting time on Facebook. There's an application on there called, "Have you ever...?" and you answer questions like, "Have you ever lied about your age?" (who, me? Wha? Never!) and "Have you ever licked the bottom of your shoe?" (again, who...me? Wha? Never! Well...there was that one time...you know...when I was um...3 years old...and I might've maybe licked my shoe...but it's not like I have a shoe lickin' problem!!)

But I digress....

Anyways...one of the questions was, "Have you ever danced in the rain?"

Hm....I had to think about that one.

I know I've walked in the rain. Sometimes voluntarily...

I know I've driven a car in the rain.

I know I've ran in the rain. To roll up car windows...

But have I ever danced in the rain?

It's a good question.

I like dancing.

I like rain. Usually.

But have I ever put the two together??

It got me to thinking...

How many times in my life have I been 'rained on'...and 'danced' in it??

How about you?
Do you dance in the rain? Do you find yourself positively moving in the midst of a cloudy time?

Lemme ask you this.

Do you dance with others in the rain? Do you partner up with someone during their thunderstorm and join them in the song?

To see the good in the middle of a bad thing. That's cool. Is it easy? No....

But you know what? It doesn't rain every single day! I mean, it's not like we're in a rain forest!
It's not like we have to make ourselves dance in the rain every day. It doesn't get the opportunity to become tedious work. Dance is uplifting....and fun...and exhilarating!

And hysterical to watch. (that is, if it's me doing the dancing!! snort!)

So get out there and dance, friends!

Forget, for just a moment, the bad stuff that's happening in your life...and dance in the rain. You are an incredible person! You have a Creator that loves you...and you are here for a reason! Don't think for one second that you are unimportant....or unnecessary....or unwanted.

"Why am I smiling? And why do I sing? Why does September seem sunny as spring? Why do I get up each morning and start? Happy and head up with joy in my heart? Why is each new task a trifle to do? Because I am living a life full of YOU!!"

Gene Kelly had the right idea, my friends...when he sang those words. Focus on Someone close. And dance in the rain! You'll feel better, I promise!

Now I better get off of the computer. Where's that umbrella of mine?!

Same...but different

Yesterday I was looking at my aunt's high school yearbooks. I love yearbooks! I'll look at anyone's yearbook. Ever since I was little I've enjoyed them. They tell such a story!

I love looking at all the hairstyles and fashions that are caught in between those two covers. I love the eyeglasses...the hats or the lack of hats...how stern or how laid back the faculty members look...the team mascots...and I like something else about yearbooks. They are all the same....but different.

I mean, for the most part...generally speaking...no matter if you went to a public school or a private school...a large urban school or a lil' itty bitty country school...no matter if it's 1902 or 2002...the yearbook's contain pretty much the same thing. Students, faculty, organizations, teams. Even the feel of the paper...the index in the back...the ads...each yearbook is the same...but different.

As I looked at the pictures of my aunt, she changed each year. The other students changed each year. Oh, there's always that one person who somehow manages to not look like they've changed on the outside...but you know they've changed on the inside. I had to laugh...because I was looking at a teacher who had also gone to my church as I was growing up...and I wondered how old she actually was...because in a ten year time period (at least!)...she looked EXACTLY the same! Same hairstyle...same sort of clothes...weird.

I had a boss once who had had the same hairstyle the two years I had worked with her. I got my hair cut one day and she commented on how nice it looked and then said yearningly, "I wish I had enough courage to cut my hair."

I remember thinking, 'what a dumb thing! Cut your hair! It'll grow back! What's the big deal?'

I've thought about that comment of hers for a long time. Why someone would be reluctant to get their hair cut...why someone intelligent...someone who logically understood the idea that yes, hair does have the capability (for the most part) of growing back after it's cut...understands that people do it all the time...why someone would make a comment indicating a desire to change their hairstyle and still not do it?

It's really bugged me.

I thought about it as I looked at Mrs. Hill. Mrs. Hill, who looked exactly the same for (at least) ten years. Same hair...same clothes. What was that all about?

In a world that changes in a New York minute...we resist change. Most of us, anyways. We like being comfortable. We like control. We like stability.

On one hand.

On the other, though...there's this desire in us TO change. To live in a 'better' house...to be in 'better' shape....to have a 'better' job. We want change. We want makeovers...just look at television and see how much is being madeover nowadays.

You know something? I think...in their extremes...that both resistance to change and makeovers...are all about control.

"I can't control this [thing, person, condition] in my life right now...so I'll control this! I'll either change this (get a haircut) or I won't change! (keep the same hairstyle for 10 years)

Control. Either way, we're in control. Or at least we believe we are.

So we resist change...or encourage change. Either way, what happens?

Change happens.

With or without your support. It just does.

Just like those yearbooks show kids growing up...and teams winning and losing playoffs...things do not stay the same. They get different.

And we can only control so much.

We're all the same...but different.

We all change.

Everyone except One. He never changes. And thankfully, He's always in control.

Think about that for a moment.

Me? I'm gonna go look at my yearbooks...

Infectious Disease

So...yesterday I'm typing away on the computer...and my daughter is standing right behind me.

And she sneezes.

Now...I'm not talking about some polite, cute, little 'achoo!' that you say "Bless you!" to pleasantly...

no...this was different. Much different. It was a full-blown (literally!), wet (dare I say DRENCHING?), nasty ol' sneeze.

AHHHHH CHOOOOO!

So...I'm sitting there...dripping...(really!) and I say, "Thanks for the shower! Could I get a towel, please?"

The keyboard is wet...my shoulder is wet...it's all wet here. Yuck.

"I hope what you've got isn't catching," I say. "Cover your mouth next time! Sheesh!"

And she's laughing...and I'm laughing...kinda...but it got me to thinking...

Is what I've got catching?

We just finished performing Fresh Roasted Comedy Cafe', and one of the guys in it has this smile that is just...infectious. Seriously. When he grins...you grin. You cannot help yourself. And I tried, every time I saw him smile...to NOT smile.

It wasn't possible, my friends. I couldn't do it. I couldn't NOT smile.

Our attitudes are infectious. People will imitate us. They can't help themselves. So...the question becomes:

Are you sneezing all over folks...or is your smile making them smile?

Okay...that's not REALLY the question. But what I want to think about today is how our attitude affects those around us...as well as ourselves!

One thing I've noticed about myself is that if I surround myself with things that make me smile...then I smile more!

So...look around. Do you have things around you that make you smile? Look at them a couple of times today...you might be surprised by how good you feel.

My friends, you make me smile. Spread that infection around, okay?!

Got any spare change?

My son is an ad marketing guy's dream come true.

Ever since he was able to open his eyes and say, "T.V."...my son has been in love with ads. Each thing that comes on in a 30 second commercial becomes our home's 'gotta have this!' item.

It's more than a little annoying.

His latest thing is the Jakk's Eye Clops Bionic Eye. Have you seen this? It is a magnifier that hooks up to your t.v., allowing you to check things out in 200x magnification...(whatever THAT means!) and change how you look at things. Hm....changes how you look at things. You know what?

I could use some change! Or could I?? The past couple of days I've been in a bit of a funk...and while I must admit that part of it could be the time change...and the change in temperatures here...and the change in my schedule...one thing that really needs to change is my perspective.

I'm really good at noticing the negative. What's not clean...what's not new...what's not finished...what's not paid for....what's not working...what's not right. Focusing 200x on what is wrong...and feeling pretty crummy about it. "I don't want to do this....I don't want to deal with this person right now....I don't want to be in this place!"

I'm not much fun to be around.

That's not who I want to be! I want to have a positive outlook! I want to get rid of that negativity before it strangles me and chokes the good right out of me!

So....where to begin?

The Serenity Prayer (for those of you who are not familiar with it) says this: GOD....grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...courage to change the things I can...and wisdom to know the difference.

Okay...got that.

It goes on to say this: Living one day at a time...enjoying one moment at a time...accepting hardships as the pathway to peace. Taking...as He did...this sinful world as it is...not as I would have it.

Hm....

Taking things as they are...not as I would have them. Do I do that? Do you do that? What happens when we do that?

Acceptance....and peace.

And understand...this part comes AFTER the first part. Knowing what's in your control and what's not in your control...scrutinizing things...checking them out...but also to live one day at a time...enjoy one moment at a time...so your perspective isn't skewed...so you're not magnifying only the negative things and never seeing the positives.

My friends...we can't change people. We can't change the fact that the band concerts we have to attend as parents will be overcrowded...and hot...and seem to take forever! We can't trade in our mother in laws...or make our sons eat their vegetable soup.

(those are all hypothetical situations...really!) (snort!)

You know what? I was so annoyed about having to go to the concert...that I didn't hear the 7th grade band music!! I was so focused on myself...and the negative...that it was difficult to see the beauty...to hear the melody that was playing all around me...(even if it was by 7th graders!).

However...when we can change our perspective and appreciate the moment for what it is...when we take a breath and say, "Okay. This is NOT where I want to be...but this is where I am...so help me to appreciate it for what it's worth!"...we might find it's not so bad.

And actually hear the 8th grade chorus.

Acceptance and peace. I'd like those magnified 200x. How 'bout you?

So long as you don't make a habit out of it!!

George Costanza: Jerry, just remember, it's not a lie if you believe it.

I just watched an episode of Monk. At one point Monk tells his therapist, "Actors make their living telling lies." And the therapist says, "Maybe actors are really telling the truth." And Monk shoots him this look...it's priceless.

Was it my four college learning years of theatre that taught me the fine art of lying?

Nope.

And you know what?

It's funny...my face tells the truth...even when my mouth does not. Just watch me sometime! It's like I can't really help myself. I'll tell you...for four years of college...intensive theatrical training...I got no poker face whatsoever...sigh.

"Do you like this shirt, Carrie?"

(Frowny face from me...I take a deep breath...run my tongue across my teeth...tilt my head)

"It's great."

(nnoo...no it is NOT great! It's an awful color! It's the wrong style for her body type! WHY DID YOU LIE TO HER?!)

"That's what she wanted me to say."

And the quote? From Seinfeld? George is a PRO at lying. Why? Because he BELIEVES THE LIE!

And that's where you can get into trouble, my friends...when you believe the lie. And good liars always find some way to believe the lie...

I think for us girls it's tough. We're taught at a very early age to be 'nice' to people...and that means learning tact. Except that sometimes...that idea of tact is coupled with 'white lies'...like the one I mentioned above...where no one is really "hurt" by the comment of ,'That shirt's great!"

The problem comes with practice. Once you begin telling lies...you can have a hard time stopping. They're so convenient! They can stop conflict from happening...they can keep you from getting grounded by your parents...they can make other people feel good about their blouse purchases...

I mean, where's the harm in that??

Just recently, I had a situation happen to me where I was asked a question. It was not a hard question to answer...but I knew my response wasn't the answer that the person wanted to hear. And I found myself fighting against that so much...that I said something really mundane...and left the room...without actually answering the question.

Although, I think that I DID actually answer the question...by not answering it...and I'm not convinced that was right either...but at least I didn't LIE. And that habit (because YES...it becomes a habit!) is one I've been working on for some time now...

Sometimes, my friends...hard things need to be said. Thinking that avoiding a difficult conversation by lying isn't really helpful. Not at all...

And don't even get me started on believing the lies that others tell you...that's a subject for another time.

Stop lying. Tell the truth. Mark Twain said that it's better to tell the truth...that way you don't have to remember anything later...

That's some good advice right there. And I'm not lying...

Is your trust rusty??

Spring should be here by now.

At least that's my opinion. I went out to the garage the other day and saw my bike. I'm looking forward to getting on it as soon as the weather's better.

There was a time in my life that I didn't care if I ever saw a bike again!

I was five years old. I had this cute red two-wheeler with training wheels. We lived out on the farm and I would ride the bike up and down the sidewalk a lot...as well as occasionally in the driveway. It was a gravel driveway, though...and hard to ride on. Well, for someone without much bike experience.

I don't remember the exact day...but I do remember my Dad saying something about it being time for them to come off...and my bike got a wheel job. The training wheels were taken off.

"Time to learn to ride the bike without them," he said. I followed him (and my bike) to the driveway.

"Without training wheels, you need to learn to balance yourself on the bike," he said. "You can do this. I'll help you."

I got on the bike. No big deal. I'd done it a thousand times before.

It felt funny, though....the bike seemed to want to lean to one side or the other...Dad was holding onto the back of my seat, though...so I was okay.

I began pedaling.

"Go faster!" Dad said. I did.

He let go. I went about three feet and landed. There in the gravel. On my side. Ow.

"Get back on." He said. "You can do this."

No! I didn't want to do this. "Put the wheels back on!" I cried. "I can't ride my bike like this!"

"You have to learn balance. Get back on and try again."

I looked at him skeptically. I looked at the bike skeptically. I didn't really trust either one.

"Will you hang on this time?" I asked.

"I will." He said.

He lied.

Another three or four feet or so...another attempt at balance that landed me in the rocks.

He had let go of my seat.

I sat there, skinned knees and all...and cried. I had trusted him to hang on!

"Get up!" he said. "You went a lot farther that time! You can do this!"

"I don't want to ride the bike anymore!" I said.

"I promise I'll hang on this time. Just get back on."

My gut told me that he was lying. I mean, c'mon...I was five. I knew how the world worked! Still, he was big. He knew more than me. Right?

I got back on. He let go. I went flying down the driveway...and fell again. He was right. I was going farther each time...but still falling on my side. And still getting hurt. Bike riding was no longer fun for me.

Each time I fell off, he said, "Get back on." I'd balk. I didn't trust him.

"I'll hold on." He'd claim. But he always let go at some point.

It was a hard afternoon. But...by the end of it...I knew how to ride a bike without training wheels. And wow...it was fun! Really fun! The breeze in my hair...ahhh...nothing like it.

When I first thought about this as an entry...this idea of TRUST...I wanted a little more information. So I went to Dictionary.com and...

because I was not quite awake...

I typed in 'RUST' by mistake.



RUST...(in the for what it's worth dept.), is "any growth, habit, influence, or agency tending to injure, deteriorate, or impair the mind, character, abilities, usefulness, etc."



TRUST...(on the other hand), is "reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence. Confidence implies even more sureness; this may be shown as undisturbed calm."



Hm...injury...and undisturbed calm. interesting. You know what?



Sometimes my trust is rusty.



Somehow...through a bad habit...or a bad influence...I'll let something eat through my trust...causing it to be injured...or to deteriorate...thus impairing my abilities and my usefulness...and my character.



Trust does not come easy for me though. Especially when I've been lied to...or disappointed by someone close to me.



Trust is like...like...learning to ride a bike without training wheels.

Eventually, through some pain...and practice...you CAN get to that place where you're riding with undisturbed calm. You're going to fall down, my friends...and you're going to need to get back on. Right away.

It's worth it though. Trust is better than rust.

Spring...get here quickly.

Just this once...

Looking back on it now...it just wasn't one of the smartest things I've ever done.

Oh...it wasn't an awful thing, I guess...but would I do it again?

The jury's still out on that one. I just don't know.

6th grade year.

Like a lot of folks new to jr. high, I experienced several 'firsts' that year. New school. New braces on my teeth. New class schedule of moving from room to room. I had just been put into a 'high' math class, ...which meant I was just smarter than the 'average' student...and I had my first real 'punishment' at school.

BUT it wasn't my fault!

Seriously!

I was just trying to help her out, that's all!

At PJHS, there was a punishment known as "The Curb", and certain bad behaviors warranted time spent on "The Curb".

The Curb was just the section of sidewalk across the street from the 'playground' area of the jr. high. The sidewalk there was separated into these big squares, and those students who misbehaved were just sent to "The Curb" and got the honor of just sitting in one of those squares for all of lunchtime recess...no big deal. Except that just all of your classmates could see you and know that you screwed up.

Whoever thought it up was just a genius. There is nothing more effective a punishment (for some of us anyways!) than to be seen by your peers 'doing time'...and there is no better time to embarrass kids in front of their peers than jr. high.

I ended up on The Curb. And I've never forgotten it...

Let me say that, again, my intentions were good! I was not a bad kid. I did not misbehave in school. In fact, I would say that I went the other way...and was the 'teacher's pet' most of the time.

I just made a mistake, that's all.

One fateful day...in a moment of weakness...I found myself having to justify my actions in front of Mr. Geerken....or Mr. G., as I like to call him.

He was not a pushover. He did not 'kid around' much with the students. In fact, in the 6th grade, I'd say he was the 'toughest' teacher we had. Mr. Jones was very kind...Mr. Lee was really funny...and Mr. G. was...not those things.

He was just Mr. G.

And he was a very good teacher. And, like most good teachers, he taught me WAY more than just math and science.

As I said, I was in the high math class. If you asked me why I was in high math I would tell you that I had no clue! I was just a good student...who did homework as requested...and didn't cause trouble.

And yet...I still made it to The Curb.

That fateful day I was approached by a gal named Gina. I wasn't really great friends with Gina, but she had come to my slumber party when I turned 12...so she was okay.

Gina just had one small problem. She hadn't done her homework. For her math class. For our math class.

She was worried. She was scared. It was Mr. G's class, after all...and you knew that he wouldn't be kind...wouldn't be funny...wouldn't understand.

She had a problem. And she came to me, just asking for my help.

She wanted to copy my homework. It was one page of math...what would it hurt? This one time...just this once...could she copy my work?

I saw the pain in her face...the fear in her eyes. I took pity on her. And began to justify my actions right then. It was a good thing to do...to help out a friend...in a time of need. I couldn't see the harm of letting her copy one sheet of math...one time.

Could you? I mean, c'mon...no big deal...

However, for me, later that same day...it became a very.big.deal.

I can still see the sunshine coming through the windows of Mr. Lee's room where I had social studies...while Gina had science. In Mr. G's room.

Where she was furiously copying my homework.

Near the end of my class, there was a knock on Mr. Lee's door. And he answered it. And there was Mr. G...wanting to talk to me.

Just ME!

The whole class looked at me in shock! In disbelief! What had I done wrong? I, who never did anything wrong at school...had to speak with Mr. G...and he...

he did not look happy.

Oh, he never really looked happy. But he looked even less happy on this particular day.

The day the sunshine left the room in a hurry.

The day that I...I...would be sentenced to just sit on The Curb.

I shakily got up out of my desk...and the next few moments were a blur. I remember going into Mr. G's room...and sitting down. It was just us. Just the two of us.

He showed me a paper. It was my math homework. He had caught Gina copying it in science class. She was getting a zero for her homework for that day.

I was getting...The Curb.

BUT I HADN'T DONE ANYTHING WRONG!

I cried. Gina didn't have to sit on The Curb! Gina didn't have to be humiliated in front of her peers! Stupid Gina...who didn't even have enough sense to do her own stupid homework! She wasn't in trouble!

IT WASN'T FAIR!

I was being sentenced to the curb for Gina's mistake. If she hadn't copied my homework in science class...if she had been smart and done it in Mr. Jones' reading class...she NEVER would have gotten caught...and I wouldn't be sentenced to The Curb!

Mr. G. quietly explained to me why Gina wasn't going to The Curb...but I was. I wasn't helping her by letting her copy my paper. She wasn't learning anything from that. You see, he said, you're smarter than she is...you need to understand that letting someone cheat off of your homework is not a good idea. Letting her off the hook of doing her homework doesn't teach her math...so you're going to The Curb. That will help her more than letting her cheat.

"How does my being punished teach her anything?" I wondered. Mr. G. explained that he had told Gina what my punishment was...and that if she did it again, she'd be the one on The Curb.

So...that was it. My punishment for being helpful. Gina screwed up...but I just took her place. On The Curb.

The next day, I sat there...in my square, in the sunshine...and morosely glared at the students on the other side of the road...who were enjoying their recess time...and I was teased by some of them, "Hey, Carrie! You must've done something pretty stupid to end up on The Curb! Something REALLY BAD!"

I turned my head away to ignore them. I put my chin in my hands, my elbows on my knees...and sat there for 38 minutes. 38 of the longest minutes of my life. Taking a punishment that I felt I did not deserve. Because I had only wanted to help. To just help someone. And this was Mr. G's answer. His idea of help. And did Gina really understand? Did Gina realize the sacrifice I was making for her?

It did not make sense. But I was a good student. I obeyed my teacher. I quietly took my punishment of The Curb.

And life went on...

My Friends...there is Someone who has taken your place on The Curb. Someone who has sat with Mr. G...and been found guilty for your wrongdoing. And no matter how much one reasons that He didn't do anything to deserve it...He still obeys. He takes your punishment.

Think about that today. Just this once...

Da Do Ron Ron Ron Da Do Ron Ron...

He had the ability to take my breath away.

And, to be honest, if I ever get the chance to meet him...why, I'll probably just faint dead away...right there on the spot.

Who, you ask? Who could have that kind of effect on me?

The President?

No....

Donald Trump?

(snort!) Hardly.

Well....who, C.? Don't leave us hangin'!!

Fine. I'll tell you. Promise not to laugh?

It's....it's....Shaun Cassidy.

Yeah...I know. I know!

(hey....I thought you promised not to laugh!)

When I was ten years old....he became the ONLY thing I thought about.

Seriously. I started getting those teen magazines...and I watched "The Hardy Boys" religiously. I'm not kidding. I've even got some of the shows on VHS to prove it. I wrote my first 'fan letter' to Shaun...and got a picture back in the mail! It was the coolest thing!

At eleven...I could tell you his favorite color...his birthday (Sept. 27, 1958...ONLY 10 years older than me! I mean, that's not alot!)

...what kind of pet he had...how many brothers...I knew all the statistics...

At twelve...I wore my hair like his...I had a Shaun Cassidy puzzle that I could put together in like .0058 seconds...and I had a 45 of his song, "That's Rock n Roll". And at thirteen, I had two of his albums!! He was my life!

(And don't you even ask me what a 45 is...sigh...)

Some called my interest...um....devoted. Some would say....obsessive.

Some thought I was silly. Or dumb. Or crazy!

Had you asked me about it...I would have told you that I loved him. Simple as that. He was all I thought about...well, that is....if you didn't include Donny Osmond...

You see, I loved Donny almost as much. And then Matt Dillon came along...and Scott Baio...and Leif Garrett...and OH! MY! GOODNESS! Andy Gibb!!!

Wow!

Shaun had the most lasting effect on me, however. He still remained WAY up there...my walls in my room were covered with him. He was the first thing I thought of in the morning...and the last thing I thought of when I went to sleep.

I idolized Shaun. Er....and Andy...and Timothy Hutton...and C. Thomas Howell...and Chris Atkins....and....and!!!! The more of them I 'loved'...the more covered and cluttered my walls got...the more distracted I became...

Is there anything that you think of ALL THE TIME? Oh, maybe it's not Shaun Cassidy. Maybe for you it's....money. Or football. Or work. Or computer games. Maybe it's a hobby. Maybe it's exercise. Maybe it's yourself that you think of all the time...

My Friends, there is only One we should be hyper-focused on...there is only One who deserves all of our attention. I encourage you to learn all you can about Him...write Him a fan letter...

Spend some quality time thinking of Him today. Hey! You know what? You could even put His picture on your wall!!

You Gotta Go There!

Yesterday I spoke with someone who'd just been to Hawaii on vacation.

Reading that sentence, I realize that it's a little redundant.

I mean, DUH! Hawaii....vacation. Hello, C.! Why else would someone be in Hawaii?

I suppose there are those lucky folks who go there on business....but what it got me to thinking about was this:

Do the folks who live in Hawaii think it's as beautiful as those who visit? Or do they just take it for granted?

I haven't been to Hawaii. I'd like to go sometime. It's one of the 'warmer' areas actually on my 'potential vacation list'. Everyone who's been there has good things to say about it. And they always say, "YOU GOTTA GO THERE!"

Could you really get tired of beautiful sunsets, and breezy beaches....and colorful scenery? I mean, is there a point where you don't even see those things anymore...that they don't impact you like they did that very. first. time. you. saw. them.

When I was 17 years old, we went to Colorado on vacation. And the mountains were incredible! I remember thinking, "I will never get tired of looking at the mountains!" Each morning that we were there, I'd get up...and when I looked out a window...there they were! Just as incredible! Every morning...never got tired of 'em...

I'm not so sure that I've ever said that about cornstalks. I mean, let's face it, Illinois has got a LOT of cornstalks...

so...that leads me to ask the question:

Are there Hawaiians on vacation in Illinois....who feel like they would never get tired of looking at corn?

SNORT!!

(giggling hysterically here!)

heeheehee....maybe....heeheehee....ah...that's funny to think about.

Here's another thing:

There's a saying, "Grow where you are planted."

Now, this may sound corny....(HA HA...bad pun intended!)....but think about this: So many of us want to go somewhere else and impact people...whether it's starving children in Africa...or the homeless in New York...that we neglect the idea that there are people ALL AROUND US that could use our help. Our assistance. People that are less than a mile away from us...are folks who urgently need us.

Look around your little world today. Consider how you can grow where you are.

And don't take the beauty around you for granted either. Make an effort to appreciate it! Isn't it just a-maize-ing? (I know...that's a reach...even for me! Sorry!)

Now...who wants to Hula with me??? Anyone?

Carry me, Daddy!

When I was little, I remember faking sleep in the car so that my Dad would carry me into the house. Did you ever do that? Eyes scrunched tight....sometimes even a little smile on my face...like I was fooling someone. Well....sometimes it worked, right?

I also remember that, as I aged, that trick did not work as often. Until, finally, it didn't work at all. It didn't matter how tired I was, I had to get out and walk into the house by myself. Why? Because I was 'too big to carry'...I was growing up.

Sometimes I really miss being carried, you know? That feeling of weightlessness...of bouncing along with my head on Dad's shoulder, smelling his aftershave. It was comforting...safe...there was security there. Nothing to worry or think too hard about...just being taken care of...tucked into bed...to dream...

Being a 'big girl' though....walking tiredly into the house...your feet feeling like they've got concrete blocks attached to them...is not as pleasant a recollection. Makes me exhausted just recalling it.

In fact, I think that's how I felt this afternoon. Tired...heavy...just wishing my Dad would carry me into the house...just this once. Feeling like Atlas, with the weight of the world upon my shoulders. Feeling alone.

We grow up so fast, don't we?! We become the parents who carry in the kids, perhaps...we have responsibilities...duties...it's all part of the package....

How do you recharge your battery? How do you rejuvenate yourself when all you want to do is fake sleep so your Dad will carry you? How do you handle it?

I remember holding my Dad's hand sometimes as we went into the house. Being pulled along by him. Oh, it wasn't the same as being carried...but it was better than walking alone.

You are not alone, My Friend...there is Someone who will hold your hand when you're weary...and if you really are exhausted from the journey...He'll even carry you.

You know what? Remembering that makes me feel better!

And you know what else? I think I smell aftershave...do you??