Archive for June, 2005

Help. Less.

Wednesday, June 29th, 2005

Well, not entirely helpless, I guess; more like, dependent… Poor Steve, my web host. I bug him a zillion times a day. These colors are godawful, I know, and I’m trying to fix them. And for some reason, my links are screwy, and turning up italic in some places. Is God mad at me? Is this a theological dilemma? Sigh.

I had a really fantastic time chatting with Jean today. We forwent (new word) art altogether, and just met at a new coffee shop some friends are starting, called Talia. It’s great; really peaceful and open. We drank chai lattes and talked for a good two hours straight, swimming in some really deep, philosophical waters. Aaah, I love conversations like that. Afterwards we window-shopped for a bit, narrowly missing the tremendous thunderstorm that’s only now picking up steam, as I sit at my computer…. I’m glad I remembered to close all the windows in the volvo. Last storm I’d forgotten, and wound up with a soaked seat and a car that smelled like old milk. Which reminds me: I need to put the clothes in the dryer.

Woops, that was a big ol’ crack, right over the house. Time to go! See you all later! xo

Everywhere You Look, We’re All the Same

Wednesday, June 29th, 2005

I’ve been noticing that when somebody’s blogging on a hot day, they inevitably use some variation of the phrase: “My brain has melted and is leaking into… (you fill in the blank)”. And I thought I was being so original. Until you get out there and start reading the mighty mighty works of other people more talented than you, you tell yourself, Honey, you all dat. Boy, those bursting bubbles of delusion hurt, ’cause they usually blow up in your face, but they’re necessary. Humility is all dat, and dat’s dat.

On a related line, did you hear about how Oprah is miffed because she feels she was the victim of racism in Paris? She wanted to shop - after hours - in the store Hermes, and the employees - OH DEAR GOD - wouldn’t let her. That doesn’t sound like racism to me; that sounds like normal business practice. I think she’s so used to being catered to by every-stinkin-body that she can’t even see the truth anymore. Oprah, darling, you’re just a person like everybody else. What’s up with these celebrities? Oprah, Michael, Tom… and fuggedabout Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake!… These people are acting cuckoo! CUCKOOOOO! It’d be more interesting to watch if it wasn’t so pathetic, and I’m starting to get a little irked.

Question: What is one of the BEST ’80s mini-series that should be shown in every Christian organization on the planet but never will because it was written by Stephen King?

Answer: The Stand

Scott was given a copy of the DVD by a coworker whose wife thought it was too evil. Hnh?? It portrays evil, and very well, but we were brought to tears several times by its overall, powerful message of God triumphing over evil. One of my favorite parts was when the old woman oracle told the group of people she’d chosen - and who were in the process of forming a small, city council to govern the rest of the folks - that God hadn’t called them to form a committee. He’d called them, instead, to keep walking further and further on, until they reached the point where they had to take their stand against evil. Is Stephen King a secret believer? If not, God is using him as a prophet anyway. I really like that guy.

We also watched Supersize Me, and were relieved we’d chosen to make dinner at home that night, instead of getting McDonald’s… It’s a great flick, very eye-opening.

And then, we saw Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11. I do not like Michael Moore, because I believe he distorts facts to fit his biases. You can make anybody look like an idiot, if you want to. However, some of the ideas he brought forth were compelling, and impossible to ignore. The conclusion I came to was this: Whatever the reasons were for us moving troops into Iraq, the outcome is in God’s hands. One of the characters in The Stand said it well: “All God’s creatures do his will.” Besides, I have this to comfort me:

Several years ago, during Desert Storm, I dreamt that I was an Iraqi woman being raped by my cruel, terrifying husband. I was helpless, until at one point I was able to push him away and escape into the livingroom. I looked out of the picture window to see a huge expanse of sky, and knew I was looking westward, and I knew my help would come from the west.

When I woke I remember thinking, ‘How strange. Maybe I was dreaming of Iran… Why would I be dreaming of Iraq, of all places??’ Now, in hindsight, I believe it was a foretelling of more current events. We have been able to free an oppressed people from a despotic ruler, and that comforts me. It comforts me as I watch my son prepare to leave for Iraq in a couple months. I want to talk to him before he leaves; tell him my dream; remind him that soldiers are doing incredible things to help the people over there; that it’s not all about hatred and killing and fear, but that it can be about incredible love. It doesn’t matter why he’s going at this point; the only thing that matters is what he does when he gets there.

I think I’ll go read some more Bridget Jones’s Diary. It’s exactly the brain enema I’ve been needing… Love to all! xo