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Showing posts from December, 2007

Unresolved

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Last December 31, I wrote this: Resolutions I am not feeling bold or committed enough to record any resolutions this year. I think, because, I've learned how easily my mind can change, and that what is important to me now may not be relevant to my life in a month. I suppose that is what's fun about them - to look back next year and think, "Oh, how cute, on January 2nd, before I broke my arm, I really planned to play tennis three times a week." But that's not how it works for me. I know myself well enough to know that I would either 1)waste time accomplishing silly goals simply because they're written down and I am bound by my driven personality to accomplish them, or 2) feel ridiculous amounts of guilt for not accomplishing them. So where does that leave me? Goalless. Aimless. Heading into 2007 with no plans. Nothing I want to change or make better. No habits to break. I have got it all figured out. Or, does it leave me knowing that I'm such a screw-up th...

Speaking of Raucous Praisefests,

After further thought on the matter, I am re-tooling Christmas. I don't know about you, but when our girls were born, we lit candles, encouraged everyone around to speak softly and asked them to spend time in "quiet reflection" about what life was like before the baby. Some may say births are cause for celebration, aptly greeted with high pitched squeals, hearty pats on the back, balloons, cigars and champagne, but not us. We are Christians. "Quiet reflection" is the spiritual way to handle everything. Take, for example, our birthdays. Instead of a "party," we host a "celebration." We invite everyone to a sterile, neutrally decorated room (the more it looks like a sanctuary, the better), make them all face forward in relatively uncomfortable bench seating and slap a hymnal in their hands. We love the enthusiasm with which they drone on, blankly singing verse after verse after verse. We're sure they're not concentrating on the lyrics t...

The Beauty of the Second Verse

...or third, fourth, but fifth is usually stretching... Joy to the World. O Holy Night. Hark the Herald Angels Sing. I love me some Christmas carols. Like a good percentage of the population, my Christmas CDs begin heavy rotation the day after Thanksgiving and stick around until the New Year. But this year I've decided that I'm a fan of the lesser-known verses. Who decides the first verse anyway? What a tremendous understanding of the Gospel and the power of God these writers had. If we understood what we were saying, we'd be on our feet shedding tears of gratitude and singing at the top of our voices. There would be no peaceful, serene Christmas services. They would be raucous praisefests. from: Hark! The Herald Angels Sing Christ, by highest heaven adored; Christ, the everlasting Lord; Late in time behold him come, Offspring of the Virgin's womb. Veiled in flesh the Godhead see; Hail the incarnate Deity, Pleased as man with man to dwell; Jesus, our Emmanuel! from ...

On being easily offended

Don't. That's all. Just don't. It's an angry way to live. BREAKING NEWS: Everyone is NOT out to get you. People's opinions are NOT personal attacks against you. Nor do their suggestions for change imply they believe you are anything but wonderful. Set aside your belief that you hold the monopoly on rightness and just enjoy creation. Celebrate diversity - God planned it that way. Acknowledge personality differences, and accept them as such, because God planned them too. Don't let disagreements end relationships. Instead, find friends who disagree and listen to their reasons. But be careful, because you might learn something. Or you might teach something. But neither will happen if you parade around like the Angry Young Man/With his fist in the air and his head in the sand. You know the one - He's never been able to learn from mistakes/so he can't understand why his heart always breaks. So he sits in a room with a lock on the door... (ah, the wisdom of Bil...

I need a theme.

All good blogs have a theme. I want a theme. You have heard it said: "Good writers write what they know." I know...not much. Let's make a list. All quandaries can be solved with a good list. Things I know: 1. Trivia. In abundance. 2. Billy Joel lyrics. (and plenty of other lyrics, but mostly Billy Joel.) 3. My way around 3 "hometowns." 4. Disney, blindfolded. 5. How to read and play music. 6. Preschoolers. I also understand that writers can be inspired by things they love. Everything I love already has its own blog. Wait, unless...is there a blog devoted to the practice of reciting Billy Joel lyrics while driving around my hometown blindfolded? Help, I need suggestions.

I'm tired

I wonder how much Red Bull Betty Crocker drinks this time of year. I wonder when she hits the wall and decides that no one else, not one more person, is getting anything homemade. Away with the condensed milk and powdered sugar and candy bark coating. Starbucks cards for everyone. Every year, I begin December with renewed ambition. Every year, I slam headlong into the Christmas wall. The only problem is that this year, I crashed early. I still have baking to do. But I hit the wall. Mid-cookie, actually. As I was pushing little Hershey's hugs into little fudgy circles this afternoon I thought, that will be enough, thank you. She asked for 3 dozen for tonight's exchange? She's getting 2. Into the fridge with the extra dough. (because in spite of my angsty talk here, I know I will finish the batch. I'm not one to throw out perfectly good cookie dough.) To date this December, I have made a huge batch of puppy chow, 24 minty brownies, 3 dozen peppermint shortbread cookies an...

Best Christmas Performance, ever.

Excuse me, you dropped this...

So, this week I am making some observations. You read earlier about my tendency toward the eccentric. Surely there are a dozen other examples, but you'll have to ask my husband about them. Today's (second) observation is that in case of emergency, I could probably contact just about any Hollywood personality, NFL football player , NASCAR driver, Christian recording artist and/or Weird Al Yankovic . Technically this is not a new observation, but a fact of my life. However, it did come up this week as sort of a surreal realization. (A surrealization, perhaps?) And it's not something I talk about unless it comes up, so, go with me here. See, I used to work here. I worked in a department that had a lot to do with people like this. And, well, these guys too. From time to time, my job required spending a day with someone like this , or this, who is now in trouble for this. (Which is really a shame because I liked him a lot.) I also worked on some events that involved these ...

It's happening...

I think I'm inching closer and closer to "eccentric." Right now, I have candy canes and overripe bananas in the freezer. Two nights ago, I put Vick's VapoRub on my feet in hopes of curing a cough. (I checked it out on Snopes - they couldn't disprove it!) I have plastic Christmas greenery decorating my porch table. Wait, I'm not becoming eccentric. I'm becoming my grandmother!

Play the Sunset

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Today is Tuesday, my least favorite day of the week. I think it's because it's the one day I actually work, and the work right now is less than satisfying. If you don't know, I am a piano teacher. Sort of. I sit at a piano for four hours on Tuesday afternoon while four precious girls come and sit in front of me, trying to convince me that they've exerted any effort whatsoever during the week. Teaching a skill that requires as much discipline and focus as learning the piano is an uphill battle with anyone, far more so with privileged South Florida kids who are sandwiching lessons and practicing between soccer, dance, karate, birthday parties and 4 hours of private school homework a night. I love music. Music speaks to me in ways that words can't. Playing provides a release, the first thing I want to do when I am at my wit's end. I love my students. LOVE them. I want them around all the time because I think they are the greatest kids ever. And I want them to love ...

At the risk of sounding unpatriotic:

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I had a thought today. Maybe not an original thought, but it was new to me. Maybe, those Pilgrims weren't such heroes of the faith after all. Maybe, just maybe, the founding of America actually impeded the spread of the Gospel. Gasp! Horrors! What's that you say? Amy, are you turning your back on the good old U. S. of A. and your private Christian school upbringing? I'm just thinking. Picture if you will, a group of Christians getting picked on by their government. Harrassed and persecuted and interfered with. History is riddled with examples. The Bible is riddled with examples - along with some pretty clear instructions about how to handle the situation. Matthew 10 gives us a picture of Jesus explaining what the disciples are about to face as they head out into the world with the gospel. He warns that it's not going to be pretty. Persecution, beatings, betrayals. Brother against brother. Jesus's answer: Don't be afraid. I'll give you the power. So what if ...