La Musica!

Kristy Starling.

If you don't know of her, you definitely should. She's working on releasing her sophomore album, but I'm loving her self-titled debut album from 2003ish. So far, 'Something More' and 'Broken' have been on constant repeat [back off me, y'all, it's good stuff!] and the lyrics to either [or both] could have been pulled directly out of my heart and woven into music. I'm pretty sure.

It's just too bad I didn't write them first. Drat.

Check 'em out, y'all! You won't be disappointed!


Our Deepest Fear.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Marianne Williamson, "A Return To Love: Reflections On The Principle Of A Course In Miracles" Harper Collins, 1992. From Chapter 7, Section 3 (Pg. 190-191).



Ay, yi, yi!

It's official. I'm reverting back to my germophobic ways.

Why now, you ask?

Well, the sorrow on my [oddly shadowed, thanks to the bathroom light fixture] face in the picture above tells the story in a thousand words, but here's the short of it; I'm infected with a mysterious bacteria that is slowly chipping away at my sanity.

I know. It's tragic. If you look closely, you can see the tears and the redness that have overtaken my eyeballs. True story.

Okay, now to clarify; I fell asleep in my contact lenses a couple of weeks ago and it happened to give me a nasty little infection in my eyes, so I'm weeping and itching and medicating my way back to health. But the loss of sanity part is definitely true, y'all. I'm going nuts!

So this whole experience is making me want to be a germophobe again, because apparently, this awful malady can be spawned by touching dirty things and transferring the bacteria to my eyes.


I have an appointment next week to ensure that my [ridiculously expensive] eyedrops have taken care of the problem so that I can wear my contacts again.

Until then, I remain yours truly.

Four Eyes.

[That's Ay, ay, ay, AY!, if you're counting....]



Dear Ike;

This message is in regards to your scheduled arrival in our area on Saturday. We would like to request that you stay far away from us. Yes, really. We are aware that the Gulf coast is pretty much shrouded in awesomeness, and we all know that you'd like to be a part of Texas history. Who wouldn't? But your arrival seems to promise quite a bit of commotion, and we're just not feeling up to all of that mess, so please listen to our prayers and stay away - got it?


The People Of The Texas Gulf Coast Region Against Hurricanes And Their Subsequent Messes (TPOTTGCRAHATSM)



I Heart..

Eddie James. Not only does he put out some pretty amazing songs, he's raw and real in his worship. All that, and he sings one of my all-time favorite songs.

Seriously, he's non-stop.

So this song, Jared Anderson's 'Rescue', became an anthem for me awhile back. I'd heard it many times before, but it didn't hit home until Florida. Then, as NW sang it one Sunday evening, it became mine - and when I came close to the point of insanity [which was often. I'm just sayin'...] and all I wanted to do was scream at a seemingly unresponsive heaven and pound my fists in frustration, I'd tearfully, painfully sing a line or two. A cry for help. A cry for hope.

Clearly, it's a pretty special little ditty. So when I found this youtube video:

which is a let-out-all-the-stops, raw, real version of this song:

I had to immortalize it in blogspeak. Here. 'Cause y'all, this thing is amazing. Listen and love. You won't regret it.

Oh, and have a happy Friday!



What The Calorie?!

Does this picture scare you?

If not, then you definitely need to read this article, which will surely give you nightmares and heart palpitations at the sheer volume of calories that you've probably consumed in your lifetime.

I'm just sayin'.

I used to be quite the fan of Chili's 'Paradise Pie' - in fact, for my 18th birthday [and yes, I still remember this] I was promised an entire paradise pie instead of birthday cake and was crushed when it never appeared on my doorstep.

I can be thankful it didn't, though. At 1,600 calories, 78 grams of fat, and 215 grams of carbs, I was actually pretty lucky I didn't have a whole pan of the stuff to tempt me.

I'm officially convinced that I need to jump back on the diet wagon now.

Thank you, MSN.


Hitching A Ride.

There you saw how the Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his daughter, all the way you went until you reached this place. (Deuteronomy 1:31)

I got leg-dropped by the Bible today.

[Almost] True story.

Okay - more precisely, this precious promise from Jesus dropped peace into my spirit today, reminding me once again that this journey is taking me to a deeper place in Him. That's totally like being leg-dropped, I think.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that promise of better days and clearer views when we're groping around in a foggy present.

Trust me. I wouldn't lie about a thing like that.

But whether or not I can see what my future holds, I can see the past. I see how I've been carried through dark nights when the ache in my heart threatened to suffocate my soul. I know who held me when I cried until there were no more tears, begging to be allowed the luxury of not feeling anymore.

See, I grew up believing that I am destined to do great things for Jesus' kingdom; not because I'm convinced that I'm God's favorite child, but because I felt the weight of His calling pressing indelible marks into my spirit. [Never mind that when I was 4, I thought that great things for Jesus meant marrying my favorite preacher.] He was marking my soul for something great.

Unfortunately, I possess very little of that virtue we call patience. When things don't work out like I assume they will, my first instinct is to switch into Plan B Mode. It happens when I decide that He must not have been serious about those soul tattoos.

But Plan B Mode is completely faithless and fearful. Especially because my plans pale in comparison to the promises He's given me. In fact, I'm pretty sure that my plans get me into situations that require my being rescued. Maybe often, too. I'm just saying.

When I drop my lists and plans and see my life for what He is making it to be, it's not difficult to look down the road I've just traveled and see the places that He carried me through, despite my mental shortcomings and daily hindrances. Like the Father that He is, He patiently rescues me from my schemes and plans and guides me toward what He is calling me to be.

I trust Him. These waters are not so uncharted as I've made them out to be in my own mind. A wiser mind than mine is laying plans. Stronger hands than mine are guiding me.

And a deeper heart than mine is loving through me.

So just when I'm ready to throw up my hands in surrender and retreat from this strange walk of responsibility and adulthood and ministry to everyone, everywhere, every time, I hear a faint whisper of His promise again.

I'm one step closer to my destiny today. Because He carried me.



Who's Reading You?

I'm not the most up-to-date person when it comes to celebrity news, I'm not going to lie. The pitifully small bank of knowledge I possess about Angelina Jolie and John Mayer and David Beckham [and other famous people who aren't coming to mind] is laughable - just ask my sister, who knows everyone, celebrity or otherwise. Seriously.

99% of the year, I stick with my standards - the Bible, textbooks, inspirational books, and a few blogs - all the things I should be reading. But I always buy celebrity rags when I'm flying. No questions, please, really, because I have no good answer. ;o) That doesn't matter when I'm flying, I guess, because with the surety of the rising sun, I settle into my seat armed with the latest copy of US or OK and read up. Every time.

[Then I base my entire celebrity knowledge on those magazines until I book another flight, because I'm good like that.]

Why is this important to you? Because you're reading my blog, of course! ;o)

My familiarity with People magazine may not apply to you, but is it a sign of zip-code Christianity [read: the ability to become or to act differently while on vacation or away from one's home church] in me? Whether or not I know anything about celebrity splits and hits, it's important that my faith and my adherence to the principles of Phil. 4:8 never changes.

No matter where I am reading, someone will be reading me.

[Oh, and the CosmoUK was borrowed. I wasn't flying, I was slumber-partying, so I was off celebrity rag duty. I cannot tell you what 1,000 men said or what they revealed about Miss Blondie, and for that, I am very sorry.]

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