Author Intrusion

moving sale

2004-09-20T09:10:00.000-04:00

Blog entries going for next to nothing!! Hurry and save while inventory lasts!

Not too terribly well known author is moving her blog! All previous entries for sale at rock bottom prices! She must be crazy to let this stuff go so cheap!!

Visit her new blogshop at the above link, or type in lisasamson.typepad.com.

a big chicken, baby, stupid-head weenie

2004-09-19T10:20:00.000-04:00

I don't know what's wrong with me lately. Maybe it's because I'm on sabbatical and trying to get away from the worries of being a professional writer. Maybe my guts diminish each year, like melting ice, or evaporating kool-ade that leaves just that dry skin of red sitting there like a circus ring at the bottom of the cup.

I can't log on and read my Amazon reviews anymore. I don't want anything to do with reviews in magazines. In fact, I think I've become allergic to critics-armchair and otherwise. And it doesn't matter if it's good stuff or bad. I just don't want anything to do with any of it. I've written on this here before. But it's getting worse. Am I just being a big chicken? Or do I need to remove myself from such influence to create in a more pristine fashion?

I'm hoping it's the latter. If you've got pros and cons of both, I'd love to hear them.

grace,

lisa

was it just me?

2004-09-16T08:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, Will heard an interview with Judy Blume on NPR. Now, I have to admit, the woman wears moxy like a hand made suit. I mean, how many people could pen kids' books, one of them a series with a kid named Fudge, publish Wifey, and get away with it?

When I was about 12 years old, I read Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret? My sole excursion in the Judy Blume jungle. What follows here is not so much a critique on the book or the author, but more telling of who I was in that really hyper-vunerable, walking on marbles stage of female living. And did anyone else feel like they'd sniffed a magic marker potent enough to last from 6th grade through 8th? I swear the memory of that time period feels skinny and hyper and full of altitude.

I was explaining the book to Tyler last night. "So there's this scene where Margaret and her friends are sittin' around doing bust exercises."

I showed her the "We Must We Must We Must Increase Our Bust" maneuver.

She looked horrified.

I pointed at her. "So tell me, do you know one girl that would have done that?"

"No way!"

"Me either. It was so weird. And I totally couldn't relate when I read that. I would have rather been thrown into a hole with scorpions than have sat around a room and done THAT!"

Yeah, yeah, I know I employed a smidge of hyperbole.

"And . . . when Margaret gets her period it's like a religious experience. She's so happy!!"

Now, I don't come to this area without a few medals of honor. I was THE LAST GIRL in my class to get IT. Okay? I was embarrassed and hardly let anybody look into my purse because no feminine hygiene products ever lurked behind the zipper. In fact, even when I did finally get it, Lori Gorham, three months after the fact (a fact I didn't advertise) approached me in the girls' bathroom.

"I think I'm about to get IT. You don't have anything on you, do you?"

"Well yes!" I whipped out a pad. "I do!"

"Really?!" Shock, surprise, and a little smarm. But probably not smarm. I might have been a little over-sensitive.

"Of course!" Shock, disdain and an unspoken, "I've had it for months you twit!"

I handed her the pad.

So when I say that even I was not thrown into ecstacy at the sight of blood in my underwear that October day in 1978 it makes me wonder about Margaret. And boy was she in for a quick turnaround on the opinion of how great it is to have a period. At best I can say, "I felt glad I wasn't a freak anymore."

Nowadays I'm hoping for an early menopause!

So, did you related to Margaret more than I did?

And apologies to the guys. And Judy Blume. It wasn't your fault I didn't like the book. It was mine.

grace,

lisa

finally!

2004-09-15T15:10:00.000-04:00

Ahem. The Samsons have hairbrushes.

i love that town

2004-09-15T09:07:00.000-04:00

New Orleans is gearing up for Ivan. If it hits like they're expecting, the city will be submerged beneath floodwaters containing raw sewage, gas and chemicals from plants in the area. I'm sad. I love that town. And the two paragraphs below, from the article linked above, illustrate why.

'In the French Quarter, businesses put up plywood and closed their shutters. A few people were still hanging out at Cafe du Monde, a favorite spot for French roast coffee and beignets, and a man playing a trombone outside had a box full of tips.

"They said get out, but I can't change my flight, so I figure I might as well enjoy myself," said George Senton, of Newark, New Jersey, who listened to the music. "At least I'll have had some good coffee and some good music before it gets me."'

A really heart-rending portion of the article tells about a woman who has no car. "How am I gonna get out?" she asks. She lives on disability and supplements her income with housecleaning and babysitting. The flooding, if the storm surge rises to expected levels, will probably reach the rooftops.

for pity's sake!!

2004-09-15T07:10:00.000-04:00

I dreamed I found a brush again last night! This time it was in a drawer and had red yarn wrapped around it. I'd say it might be a vision, but I've already been through that drawer ten times looking for a brush.

dog-gone-it. Okay, today I really am getting to the dollar store, if for no other reason than you all don't have to hear about my brushcapades on this blog.

lisa

what a loser

2004-09-14T22:03:00.000-04:00

Yes, I'm talking about myself. I really need to get more exciting dreams. It all started when I lost the final hairbrush in the house around two weeks ago. Gwynnie looks like a scarecrow and I keep trying to brush her shoulder length, blonde hair with my fingers. It's horrible. And I refuse to pay full price at Target or the grocery store when I can get three for the same price at the dollar store. The problem is, when I'm out and about, I'm not thinking about brushes or the dollar store.

The night before last I dreamed I found the brush. There it was right on the bedroom floor, the one that was silver at the core with the black bristles poking out of holes. The blowdryer kind of brush. I know it's around here somewhere. But that dream was so good. There it was. The brush. The lovely, wonderful brush.

And then I woke up, forgot the dream, until later, when I remembered the dream and said to Tyler and Gwynnie, "I dreamed I found the brush last night!"

The sad thing is, it seemed perfectly normal. I mean, it's been a hair crisis here at the Samson abode. Dreaming about finding the hairbrush is akin to unearthing buried treasure or finding your name in the paper within the list of people who are owed money.

I'm such a dweeb. A brushless dweeb, still, at that. A brushless, mundane dreamer of a dweeb, actually. I need to get out more. Obviously. Maybe the dollar store would be a good place to start.

grace,

lisa

batman and the queen

2004-09-13T17:19:00.000-04:00

This is too funny. Batman scales the walls of Buckingham Palace? Quite the creative protest by Fathers 4 Justice.

aretha at the samsons

2004-09-13T08:47:00.000-04:00

Gwynnie just asked me how to spell "respect". I'm sure you can figure out the rest.

grace,

lisa

where were you?

2004-09-11T07:43:00.000-04:00

I can't believe it's been three years since the terrorist attacks of September 11th. It seems like yesterday that I was pulling out of Dunkin' Donuts around 9 a.m. to go pick up Aunt Sis when I turned on the radio and heard about the first plane crashing into the tower.

Then the reports kept piling up, one upon the other. I kept up with Will on his cell, heard about the Pentagon, and listened to him as he stood atop his DC office building and watched it burn. I picked up my elderly aunt in the city, brought her out to Harford County and we watched the towers fall. I didn't care if schools were staying in session or not, and I'd heard no word, I needed my children so I went and picked them up at school.

It took Will hours to get home as the DC Metro was shut down as well as the commuter trains. He shouted out in the crowd, "Anyone else heading for Edgewood?" A beautiful African-American woman replied, "I am."

Long story short, Will and three sisters made the exodus from DC together. He's still friends with Donna who told him when she met him, "I was just praying God would send someone to help me."

It seemed harrowing enough, but when compared to the stories of the victims and the families, it was nothing. I'm praying for them today and already found myself crying. Some memories refuse to lay down like good dogs. And this is something to be thankful for because it memorializes the sacrifice of others, dignifies their suffering and rings the death knell once again for those who had no choice in the matter of their passing, and those, like the firefighters, policemen and the heroic civilians, who did.

grace,

lisa

for the record

2004-09-10T07:47:00.000-04:00

When I die, if it's from a misdiagnosis and the doctor did the best he could, I don't want anything like this to happen. Had a discussion yesterday with two physicians who come into the cigar shop. About malpractice insurance. It's going up 41% this year and the insurance companies won't say why.

Doctoring ain't what it used to be is it? The average OB-GYN pays out 100K a year for insurance, and gets paid between 1800 - 2200 from the insurance companies for a typical pre-natal, delivery, post-natal (6 weeks check up) patient. There's a surgeon shortage now and it's going to get worse.

If you've got a phone, you've got a lawyer. And you don't pay unless we win!!

lisa

way to go hootie and the blowfish

2004-09-09T15:00:00.000-04:00

Hey, here's an idea! People actually putting their money where their mouth is. Pretty cool.

grace,

lisa

interesting diagram

2004-09-09T08:52:00.000-04:00

Take a look at this on Bob Carlton's blog. Now, I'll be the first to admit, I lean more to the conservative side of things and Bob doesn't . . . but he's still a really nice guy! Love ya, Bob.

Anyhow, just take a look. I don't need to take up your time trying to explain it ahead of time.

grace,

lisa

wrestling with God

2004-09-09T08:21:00.000-04:00

I'm reading Leonard Sweet's new book Out of the Queston / Into the Mystery. First of all, writing-wise, he's eclipsed his earlier work. Waterbrook will help a writer do that. They have a wonderful editorial staff.

Although I'm only several chapters in, something has struck me very deeply and it is this. Allah will brook no questions regarding his plan, Buddah won't either regarding his ways. But Yaweh, when He is questioned: such as Abraham bargaining over the amount of people for which God would spare Sodom, or Jacob wrestling all night demanding a blessing, Yaweh rolls up His sleeves and says, "Convince me."

Now, as a Calvinist, that would normally make me bristle. But I can't get around the Biblical accounts of God doing just that, whether with Moses, Jacob or Abraham. In other words, God wants interaction. God wants to love us and for us to love Him and trust Him enough to come to Him with our doubts and say, "What gives? Can we negotiate?" And His answer is "yes."

It's given me a whole new view of God. Surely, yes, He is all-powerful, but He created us to be in communion with us, to interact with us, not just so we could obey. Shoot, as Sweet says, if that's all God wanted, He could have just stuck to the angels! I think the point of these stories is clear, God's not offended by our questions. God doesn't want blind obedience. Did you know that God stopped talking with Abraham after he was so willing, without question or a good wrestle, to sacrifice Isaac? So what was the purpose of the test? Read the book to find out Sweet's compelling view.

This book is intriguing and will help you answer some of those nagging questions like, ""How in the world could a loving God even do that whole 'sacrifice your son' thing? Why would God demand something that is obviously sinful?" It releases September 21st and is definitely worth a pre-order at the amazon link provided above.

grace,

lisa

me an' gloria gaynor

2004-09-08T06:21:00.000-04:00

At first I was afraid, I was petrified
Being home all day with all three kids
Just how would I survive?
I've spent many sleepless nights
Thinking how this could go wrong
But I tell myself that we'll just learn to get along.

Oh no don't go, you shut that door
You've still got history
A little science and there's more
I tell you it's not time to play
You've got swimming now I say
But we'll survive,
We will survive . . .

Oh, I . . . I will survive
As long as we can get on-line
Our homeschool stays alive
Only two complaints a day
Respect each other or you pay
And eat alone
In the dining room, hey, hey.

I'm sayin' don't walk out that door
There's social studies, math and reading
Now your test grades can't be poor
You've got your whole life to live
You've got lots of you to give
You must survive, you must survive
Hey, hey!

Shoot, when you think about your child's future riding on you, it's just plain scary!

Actually, it went pretty well once we all got up and running on-line. We ended up starting almost two hours later than planned because, I assume, everyone was trying to log-on at once. We're doing The Jubilee Academy (www.thejubileeacademy.org) and it's great. I still have to teach, but no curriculum planning really. I jump from computer to computer. We're just plain wired here at the Samson house.

Thanks for the prayers. How's the school year going for you?

grace,

lisa

never even made it to Ashton Kutcher

2004-09-07T06:49:00.000-04:00

Started to watch The Butterfly Effect last night. I didn't last for more than thirty minutes. The cruel brother of the sweet, blonde girl did it for me when I saw he was about to light a dog on fire.

I don't know if there's something wrong with me. I know there's evil in the world. I'm not completely naive. But cruelty for it's own sake, or to gain something for one's own self, is something I can't handle. In a movie, or real life.

If you don't like cruel kids, don't watch this film. If you've got a stronger stomach than I do, and have watched the movie, let me know if I can swing past that part and actually get something out of the film.

grace,

lisa

feelin' the luv

2004-09-07T06:34:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, around 2 p.m. I felt a real lightening in my spirit. I have a sneaking suspicion it was prayer. Thanks everyone. I've decided to really let myself think about my grief, and instead of just shoving it down, to pray over it. I haven't done that.

I guess part of finding ourselves having gone through the death maze prematurely (both of my parents were dead by the time I was 37--not a childhood loss, but still young enough that none of my own children's milestones will be viewed by them, etc.) is that there's no one to blame. At least for me there isn't. My father dropped dead when I was 29. Great way to go, really, and what he always said he wanted. "I'd go sooner if I could just drop dead." And, boom, there he went. My mother died from heart failure due to her polycystic kidney disease. It was a blessing she went when she did because she'd just made it into the Depends stage.

So I've tried to be strong about these things for years because, "it could be worse." But something hit me a few minutes ago. "It sucks to lose your parents." No, they weren't perfect. We all had our issues. But the bottom line is that I would extend loads of compassion to anybody else who lost a parent, so why don't I do that for myself?

At least I've really been coming to terms lately with my miscarriage, thank God. After me wallowing beneath the psyche radar for a dozen years, I think God finally just reached down and laid it all out for me.

"Here, Lisa. For Pete's sake, you need to get this. Okay?" And then He cups His hands on either side of His mouth. "It was not your fault. Not. Your. Fault."

So there it is. Thanks for your prayerful encouragement. I hope this blog is a place where we really can encourage one another.

grace and love,

lisa

we forgot about the flowers

2004-09-06T08:03:00.000-04:00

In direct contrast to Monster, the inner recesses of my mind flung out something against my consciousness I hadn't thought about in a while.

Ice Castles.

Remember? Robbie "way too cute" Benson and That Blonde Girl who played, Lexie, a figure skater coached by, yes-oh-yes, one of my favorite actresses of all times, Colleen Dewhurst, God rest her soul! Tom Skerritt, who proves some men get sexier with time, rambles about the movie as Lexie's dad. To make a long story short, Lexie wows the people at regionals, she gets a big-time coach and a big-time boyfriend (leaving behind Robbie Benson for heaven's sake and what's wrong with this chick?). Trying to do the dreaded triple axle on an ice rink outside some glamorous party, her blades catch on a chain bundling up the lawn furniture for the season. Whoops. Down she goes. Poor Lexie ends up blind. Not black blind, but enough to see a sort of tie-dye-on-a-white-T-shirt world.

Where are all those big-time people then? They've split. Naturally. Because, as we all know, there isn't a successful person out there with actual feelings. Only blue-collar folks or the poor have feelings, right?

Robbie Benson takes her back, I mean, she is cute, afterall. Colleen Dewhurst helps and Lexie finds herself at the regionals once more. Everyone's abuzz. She skates a flawless routine. Yes, Lexie is back! Will she go on to win the nationals? What about the internationals? The olympics?

Oh, dear. People are throwing down flowers. Tons of them. Lexie can't see flowers! Heavens no! She can just make out the red and blue lines on the boards. And down she goes. An awkward silence, you know that awkward Hollywood silence, settles on the crowd as Robbie helps her gain her feet. "We forgot about the flowers," he says and they kiss. The crowd goes wild. And then a reprise of Melissa Manchester singing, "Lookin' through the eyes of love" begins.

Please don't let this feeling end
It's everything I am
And everything I long to be (or something like that)
How it feels to touch you
I can feel so much
Since I found you
Lookin' through the ey-ey-eyes of love. (big building with violins)

So after Monster, I remembered this movie that I went to see with my Mom. My Mom had terrible taste in movies. She loved You Light Up My Life with a passion. And yet, she also loved serial killer stuff, which actually would have made Monster a big hit with her.

But there it was, a memory I hadn't thought of since she died. Me singing the theme to Ice Castles, her singing along but never getting the words quite right, her cadence more swing than pop. It picked free a piece of the thick crust that envelopes my heart these days after losing both parents, an unborn baby and soon, my life here in Maryland. And I realized that I'm really not fine underneath it all. It's still a mass of raw hamburger meat inside my chest, only most days I can forget it's there. I'd love to say it's something Jesus wants to heal. And maybe it is. Maybe He wants me to address my innards, but honestly, I've been shoving things down so long, I don't really know how to do it without inconveniencing everybody else, especially myself. Maybe Jesus wants me to hurt so I can write the way I do. Which kind of sucks if that's the truth.

I thought I was fine. But I forgot about Ice Castles.

And now, in light of all the pain and crap going on in the world, I once again feel guilty for my suburban angst. We're not allowed to feel this way, you know. Only the poor and the blue collar or disadvantaged are. And while I'm on the subject, if there's one thing that bothers me about the emerging church, it's that only the poor and disenfranchized are worth the effort. That's the place where really serious people minister. Pain is everywhere though. Who will minister to those who don't even feel they deserve to hurt?

Hmm. Maybe Will and I? That sure would be cool.

grace, and sorry about the ramblings. i do try to keep that to a minimum on here.

lisa

F F F F fffffffff and F!

2004-09-06T07:46:00.000-04:00

Last night Will and I watched the movie Monster. It effin' tells the effin' story of Aileen effin' Wuornos, a effin' prostitute executed last effin' year for the effin' slaying of effin' six of her effin' johns. Effin'-A, it was an effin' incredible acting job by effin' actress Charlize Theron. You wouldn't effin' recognize her.

Not for the faint of heart. Watch it to visualize a portrait of a woman in intense emotional pain, and maybe it'll tenderize your heart a bit. Mine can always use a good smash with the hammer here in suburbia. Monster is raw and open and really unveils the life of prostitution in a way that isn't PrettyWomanish or cliche. You understand where Aileen is coming from and the script is written in such as way as to leave no room for judgement.

It makes you thankful for your home and family. Effin' thankful, maybe?

grace,

lisa

speechless

2004-09-04T15:27:00.000-04:00

Maybe we should each take a moment to pray for the victims and their families in Russia. Horrible. Horrible.

grace,

lisa

weighing in

2004-09-04T09:51:00.000-04:00

Okay, 1.6 lbs. this week. I'm up to 6.2 total lbs. lost. And considering I was in England, fried food, pig meat capital of the universe, I was thrilled. They did have a vegetarian booth at Greenbelt, but I'm sorry, I'm just not that cool. One veggie burger was enough for me. Bob Carlton, who we shared a tipi with, I'm sure was with me on that. And he's from the Bay area in CA. I call that simple bravery.

The whole vegetarian thing? Love it in theory. But for me to admit I like food substitutes made from soy products would be akin to remarking on the beauty of the emperor's new clothes. I don't like that stuff. And you know what? I don't even wish I did.

Grrr. Meat. Ughhhh. Mmmmmm.

grace,

lisa

homeschooling for dummies

2004-09-04T09:43:00.000-04:00

Now why hasn't that book come out? Hah! I think I'd be the perfect person to write that.

Anyway, I'm just asking for a little prayer here. On Tuesday I begin homeschooling all three of the Samson offspring. 9th, 5th and 2nd grade. I'm a little apprehensive, and well, here's the confessional part. I'm totally giving up a year for this and I'm a basically selfish person. Here I thought I'd be having a restful sabbatical from writing, and it's filled in with something even more time consuming. Well, God knows what I need better than I do. Pray I find joy in the sacrifice. Oh, and the ability to stick to a schedule.

thanks and grace to you,

lisa

punch

2004-09-02T13:30:00.000-04:00

At Main Street Cigar where I hang out and write or chat or listen, a mahogany sentinel stands outside the shop. Or he used to. His name is Punch. He's not a cigar store Indian, he's a cigar store Italian. There's a picture of him if you scroll down a bit on Main Street's website.

For the past few weeks I've been restoring old Punchy as we affectionately call our wooden mate. His finger fell off and he suffered from a literally splitting headache where the moisture was threatening to peel him in two from head to toe. Dave puttied him up and I got to work. Painting him took several days and yesterday, I antiqued him. Soon we'll put a waterproof varnish on him and set him back outside to welcome patrons and visitors to "the shop" as we call this community.

I'll post a picture of him in all his newfound glory when he's back on duty. In the meantime, if you're in the area, stop inside and take a look. See, as a follower of Christ we might consider taking our redemption responsibilities very seriously. Punchy was old and worn, weatherbeaten and bleached out. But now he's dapper and ready to take on the world. Well, maybe not the world, but Main Street in Bel Air is a definite go. The owner, my friend Tony, is delighted.

So what have you redeemed in your community today? Did you get outside the Christian box? You can learn a lot out there.

grace,

lisa

bondage

2004-09-02T06:56:00.000-04:00

The theme of Greenbelt this year was Freedom Bound.

I'll have to admit it. I feel like I'm in bondage to something, and I don't know what it is. Perhaps it's my depression/ADD. Perhaps it's an inability to rise above circumstances, a helplessness that even forgets to call on God. All I know is, I feel my chains acutely and don't always know what to do about it. Yes, I am free indeed. I know that intellectually, but my guts don't feel it. Am I merely feeling the constraints of being a fleshy creature when all I really want to do is fly into Jesus' arms? Or can we overcome this frustration? Can we somehow get to the point where we meet Jesus more viably and in such a way as to banish our limitations?

Here's what I read from the book of Acts this morning. And in my attempt to be multi-media, you might want to get Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata in your head for background music. :)

Acts 12:1-18

Peter's Miraculous Escape From Prison

It was about this time that King Herod arrested some who belonged to the church, intending to persecute them. He had James, the brother of John, put to death with the sword. When he saw that this pleased the Jews, he proceeded to seize Peter also. This happened during the Feast of Unleavened Bread. After arresting him, he put him in prison, handing him over to be guarded by four squads of four soldiers each. Herod intended to bring him out for public trial after the Passover. So Peter was kept in prison, but the church was earnestly praying to God for him.

The night before Herod was to bring him to trial, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains, and sentries stood guard at the entrance. Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared and a light shone in the cell.

He struck Peter on the side and woke him up. "Quick, get up!" he said, and the chains fell off Peter's wrists.

Then the angel said to him, "Put on your clothes and sandals."

And Peter did so.

"Wrap your cloak around you and follow me," the angel told him.

Peter followed him out of the prison, but he had no idea that what the angel was doing was really happening; he thought he was seeing a vision.

They passed the first and second guards and came to the iron gate leading to the city. It opened for them by itself, and they went through it. When they had walked the length of one street, suddenly the angel left him. Then Peter came to himself and said, "Now I know without a doubt that the Lord sent his angel and rescued me from Herod's clutches and from everything the Jewish people were anticipating."

When this had dawned on him, he went to the house of Mary the mother of John, also called Mark, where many people had gathered and were praying. Peter knocked at the outer entrance, and a servant girl named Rhoda came to answer the door. When she recognized Peter's voice, she was so overjoyed she ran back without opening it and exclaimed, "Peter is at the door!"

"You're out of your mind," they told her.

When she kept insisting that it was so, they said, "It must be his angel."

But Peter kept on knocking, and when they opened the door and saw him, they were astonished. Peter motioned with his hand for them to be quiet and described how the Lord had brought him out of prison. "Tell James and the brothers about this," he said, and then he left for another place.

In the morning, there was no small commotion among the soldiers as to what had become of Peter. 19After Herod had a thorough search made for him and did not find him, he cross-examined the guards and ordered that they be executed.

The question for me is, "Do I get up when an angel strikes me on the side?" Do I realize that's what's happening? Or am I so dulled to spiritual movements, I'm not recognizing the blow for what it is, and remaining in my chains. Another question I can ask myself is this: "Am I guarding someone else's freedom?" Keeping it under lock and key? And what will happen to me if I am? Consider the guards. Yikes. And finally I realize that prayer is the fuel for all of this (vs. 5), and I surely don't do enough of that. Will I ever?

grace,

lisa

funny

2004-09-01T07:27:00.000-04:00

Here's some quotes I came across this morning. I love quotations and proverbs. If these bore you, just come back later! If you want to read more, go here.

The man who claims to be the boss in his own home will lie about other things as well. Amish saying

Non-reciprocal principle: If you add a cup of wine to a barrel of sewage, you get a barrel of sewage. If you add a cup of sewage to a barrel of wine, you get a barrel of sewage.

Do not attribute any action to malice that can be explained by stupidity. (This is my new take on our politicians in general.)

If you can get nothing better out of the world, get a good dinner out of it, at least. Herman Melville (in Moby Dick)

Way to go, Herman. And thanks for reminding me I'd better go pull something out to defrost.

grace,

lisa

crap . . . crap, crap, crap

2004-08-31T21:45:00.000-04:00

I did NOT mean to reformat this blog. Crap. I thought I got out of it in time. And then, what the crap? The formatting has changed and I lost all of links to the blogs I recommend. Crap. Will's going to switch me to Typepad soon. After that, I'll get all the links up. Crap.

lisa

just goes to show

2004-08-31T21:42:00.000-04:00

God's just plain busy in all sorts of places doing all sorts of things. Read about Ma$e's comeback here.

nightstand news

2004-08-31T19:45:00.000-04:00

Just finished back-to-back two books by Douglas Coupland (author of Generation X). Life After God, and All Families Are Psychotic. Loved them both. For those of you wishing to delve into post-modern fiction, try these. His imagery is unbelievably fresh, fresher than, oh, say, Will Smith during his Bel Air days.

Sad, yes, I know. And thanks to Don for the books. You, my good man, rock. Like Alcatraz. Or, say, Stone Mountain, Georgia. Or, hmm, the baby on the tree top.

grace,

lisa

appetite suppressants

2004-08-31T09:55:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I just came across a new way to stanch the flow of your appetite when you're trying to lose weight. Surf the internet. Because you may come up with an article about food like this one. Don't know why, but this makes my stomach run for the hills. Raw pot pie? Oop, here comes my friend Ralph.

Lunch? No thanks.

lisa

home again, home again

2004-08-31T06:17:00.000-04:00

Back from England. I was asleep by 9 pm last night. Of course, it felt like 2 am to my body.

Up at 4:45 am. No surprise there.

The Greenbelt Arts Festival threw me into a whole new state of being. I'm so used to Christian gatherings where we emblazon our Christian lingo onto each sentence we speak and show off our faith. It's different over there. Faith is just, well, a part of you and you can go and listen to speakers and music, wander around the pavillions and absorb new expressions of what God is doing without feeling the need to advertise what you've learned.

We began our trek on British soil at the home of Debbie and Andrew Jones. More about them in a separate post because they were the biggest God-talk of the trip for me. On Friday we made our way out to Cheltenham for the festival. If any one mental image survives this trip it will be sitting in Andrew's van as he sped down the narrow streets of London with a trailer (caravan in England) hitched to the back. Now that's moxy! I honestly felt like I was on Cartoon Network or something.

Friday afternoon I sat with Will at a roundtable discussion on the Emerging church. When I walked into the room I thought, "Oh sheesh, look. It's a buncha men." I was the only woman in the room and I was only there because I was a wife. I'm thankful to say that three more women came in because honestly, I would have gone out of there thinking, it's just another patriarchal movement where they say they value women but the numbers prove otherwise. Still a little male-heavy, but honestly, how many women really are ministering at that kind of level? Maybe the Emerging church movement will help change all that. And they actually asked me to say a little something which was very gracious. Honestly? People don't usually want to hear from novelists. We just tell stories forgoshsakes.

Gracious people all around. Good tea. Cool people watching. And a really big message from God during the large mass on Sunday. Shared communion with thousands of believers from across the world. Truly, truly amazing.

Just an overview of the time spent. Not done yet. Still need to digest it all.

grace and glad to be home. hope you all are doing fine!

lisa

report from the diet front

2004-08-25T13:06:00.000-04:00

Weighed in today. Another 2.6 lbs. Weight Watchers unveiled a new diet this week and boy does it sound good. I love those meetings, I hate to admit.

It's kind-of like church.

grace,

lisa

confession

2004-08-25T08:24:00.000-04:00

I haven't even been thinking about God with this whole Greenbelt thing. Good grief. If you're going to wing a prayer, pray I meet Him in a new, special way. That I'll see a different aspect of Him and His people. I'm so carnal.

thanks,

lisa

Leavin' on a Jet Plane

2004-08-25T08:01:00.000-04:00

We're heading off to Greenbelt Arts Festival today. And I am nervous.

First of all, we're camping. I've never camped before and I don't sleep well to begin with. I expect to disembark back here in America looking like something from Night of the Living Dead.

Second of all, it's Will's world I'm entering. When he was in politics and I'd attend fund-raisers with him, I was the woman standing by the steamed shrimp all evening. Meeting new people in someone else's sphere is extremely difficult for me. I'm able to camoflage it, but it's still a challenge. When I was younger, I didn't really care too much about being rude, so off I'd go with a book to the lobby to wait out the evening. Now, I do care about my manners.

So if you can wing a little prayer my way, I'd appreciate it.

The great side of it, however, is music, music, music! And this is where Will and I will show our differences. (Not that he doesn't love music. He's more well-rounded and enthused than I am when it comes down to it.) He'll be going to places where people will talk about Emerging, he will attending seminars and yakkfests, and will come back with lots of cool things to think about and write about. I'll go to concerts and art exhibits and come home refreshed, and honestly, with lots of cool things to thing about and write about as well.

If they have computers set up there, I'll blog. If not, grace, my friends, and I'll see you next week!

lisa

Oh, yeah. I forgot.

2004-08-23T19:50:00.000-04:00

Last night we went to see The Manchurian Candidate with our best friends. All I can say is, what a movie! So worth the Fandango bucks. The story is intriguing, not too difficult to follow and never insults your intelligence. I came out of the movie saying, "I've gotten so used to the usual Hollywood fare, I'd forgotten what a really great film looked like." Absolutely fantastic. And refreshing to sit through something so well written, so well done.

And of course, Denzel. He's a fine, fine man! And a great actor too.

grace,

lisa

The Passion - 6 Months Later

2004-08-20T08:36:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was going through a stack of papery junk in my bedroom and came upon a copy of People from the spring. Mel Gibson's Passion was the headline. (Okay, I admit it. I'm a Hollywood Junkie. I hate Hollywood, but it really fascinates me. Does that make me shallow? Probably, but there you have it.)

I opened it up and looked at the pictures. The day before, while driving down Tollgate Road, I had recalled the scourging scene and my stomach began to do flip-flops. The memory of the actual crucifixion doesn't traumatize me. The scourging does. Something happened to me while watching the flaying, and the way it lasted, seeming to never end. Whenever I think of it, I still want to stand up and scream, "Stop it! Just stop it! Can't you see He's had enough? How much longer can this go on! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" And the nausea comes.

When I remember the scourging scene something happens to me. I get much the same feeling as the memory of my miscarriage, hemorrhaging horribly in a public restroom, blood, lightheadedness, blood, toilet water, blood and fear, blood and wondering if the baby was in the toilet and, "Dear God, I hope I don't ever have to go through that again." It's a dark sick moist feeling, a dread, a helpless raising of inner hands against an onslaught.

For that reason, I do believe I'll never watch The Passion again. I'm glad I saw it for it changed my view of my own redemption, raised the preciousness of His sacrifice, and humbled me beyond belief. It made me want to love as He loves.

On that drive down Tollgate Road, I implored Jesus to tell me it wasn't as bad as that. That a big chunk of skin wasn't ripped away exposing His ribs. And if someone who knows history can tell me the scene was excessive and therefore inaccurate, I would stand relieved. However, does that matter really? The fact is, He would have gone through it no matter how bad it was. And that is exactly the point.

grace on you this day,

lisa

reporting in from the weight loss front

2004-08-20T08:30:00.000-04:00

Well, did the Weight Watchers meeting yesterday. 2.4 pounds. Oh, yeah! Not much, but I had Chinese Food the night before which, they tell me, really packs on the water. Who knows. I am glad to just have lost anything at all. And at this rate, I'll reach my goal in 10 weeks.

I really need to start, as my brother says, "shaking my blubber." But that's way too depressing right now! As I always say this time of year, "Wait 'til it gets a little cooler!"

The teacher at WW is a grandmother who's just a downright sexy woman. I wasn't that sexy at 22. This woman is "all that and a bag of chips." If that doesn't motivate you, I don't know what does! And to any man reading this, yes, it's true, most women lose weight for other women or health reasons. I think that says something good about men in general.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-18T07:00:00.000-04:00

they're smarter than we think, ladies

Tyler read in her psychology book recently that, although this is instinctual and they are unaware of it themselves, men, when thinking about marriage, look for a woman with curves. Something inside them whispers, "That lady there can bear you children."

So to the curved, I say, nature's on our side! To the skinny people that work out 6 days a week and have 5% body fat or less, I say, nature is NOT on your side or you wouldn't be in the gym so much. Ease up a little and know that the word curvaceous is a delectable word for a reason! I swear, Titian was an absolute genius concerning his taste in women as well as his ability to handle paint.

And no, I have not fallen off my diet. But I've yet to get my feet in sneakers and get a move-on. Whew, I don't know about you, but this sure cheered me up!

grace,

lisa

2004-08-16T21:49:00.000-04:00

the purity of kindness

Today I had a thought while riding with Tim, my pastor and brother-in-law, to pick out a new keyboard for the worship team. We talked about how easy it is for a lot of Christians to feel safe and somehow further along the path than "the godless heathen". We don't murder people, take drugs, spend everynight tying one on. We don't have multiple sex partners (on the whole) or engage in prostitution. We promote personal purity.

It's easy, though, to rip a brother or sister in Christ's head off, whether in public or private. To harbor a grudge, in some cases--if honesty were being served and we were truthful about our thoughts and actions--to hate someone. To say things that aren't exactly uplifting or kind. (God forbid, however, we say "hell" or "damn". And the F-word? By their fruits you'll know them and the F-word isn't a fruit a saved person would bear!) In other words, we can be mean, backbiting, nasty people. But if we keep our pants zipped, our heads clear and our mouths clean, we're pure.

But I wonder if that's all there is to purity? Doesn't purity, while including self-control, also include things like: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and gentleness? Is there an inner purity that we've overlooked because we've categorized the sins Christians have the most trouble with as "clean sins?" And why don't these matter too? Why does James Dobson say that Gay Marriage is the greatest assault on the American family, (a "purity" issue), when we know that divorce is, (and the Church's rate is no better than the general population's) and that many times divorce doesn't start with a sin of the appetite, but the sin of impatience, rudeness, lack of love, anger or unfaithfulness in the everyday commitment to being married?

Maybe purity, in the sight of God, is just as much about the inside as it is about the outside. Maybe more. Just a thought.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-16T07:39:00.000-04:00

yesterday

Some Sundays are holier days than others. Yesterday slid into that category with ease. The baptism service on the banks of Deer Creek stirred something deep in my soul. Will took pictures of Jake and Gwynnie coming up out of the water. The water chilled their limbs but they trudged right on in. My brother-in-law Tim talked about how precious baptizing anyone is, but when it's your niece and nephew it makes it an extra special time. I grew up Presbyterian, so believer's baptism held little importance, but as I stood there on the creek, I could easily picture John the Baptizer holding a hand out to Jesus as he stepped forth into the water. There was something ancient about what we did yesterday, something very wide - like the Amazon River or the rings of Saturn. Something ritual, something connected.

grace for your week,

lisa

2004-08-15T06:12:00.000-04:00

who i'd like to be

Proverbs 31:25 - She is strong and graceful, as well as cheerful about the future. CEV

I came across this verse this morning. I get E-Word sent to me each day. To be honest, I rarely read it. But I did just a few minutes ago because, heck, it was an easy Bible read for what promises to be a crazy busy Sunday. (No, I don't spend three hours in prayer and devotion preparing my heart for church. Sorry.)

Normally, I read this passage, throw up my hands and think, "Why bother?" I don't sew, I don't buy fields and sell them, my husband doesn't sit around the marketplace and talk about how great I am. This is silly to think I could ever be this way. I'm just proud of myself when I go to bed at night and there are no dishes in the sink. Which is just about never.

But verse 25 twanged a possibility inside of me. Maybe it's doesn't have to mean graceful like a ballet dancer in my case, but full of grace, and "strength cometh from the Lord" (there, you had your dose of KJV for the day), and the future is in God's hands so why fret in such a way as to bind your hands, why not be cheerful? Hopefully I can become someone like that, hopefully it's before I'm too old to do anything with it!

Today Gwynnie and Jake are getting baptized today. There's promise sitting with the sun just below this morning's horizon and while I may not yet be very strong or graceful, I'm as thankful as a mother can be. All of my children know Jesus. And that's truly the most cheerful thought a mother can have.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-13T19:35:00.000-04:00

boo-hoo

During our phases when we have cable TV, I'm a FoodTV junkie. Of course, I love Sara Moulton, and Jamie Oliver is just a doll-baby. And the others. Emeril is fine, but I find I have to take him in small doses the older he gets.

But the Grande Dame of Food Television died today at 91. In her sleep. I do wonder what Julia Child's last meal consisted of. I'd be surprised if it didn't include real butter and was accompanied by a great wine. She pioneered gourmet cooking for real people and I loved her for that. I especially loved her sessions with Jacques Pepin and her childlike delight when she learned a new process. If it really was new to her. Somehow I doubt it was. But she loved what she did and the people she did it with and knew what it was like to feel delight and display graciousness.

This past spring, Tyler, Jake and I had the awesome privilege of viewing the new display of Julia's actual kitchen at the Smithsonian. Okay, Tyler and I enjoyed it. Jake wanted to know when we were going to get to see the dinosaur stuff. I thought of all the fancy-schmancy kitchens today they dub "gourmet kitchens" and wanted to laugh. Old aluminum cabinets and walls covered in pegboard suited Julia Child. Now that's a gourmet kitchen.

With Julia gone, I guess Weight Watchers makes sense now. I'd always look at her and say, "She sure isn't worried about a few extra pounds, and who can blame her? She's a fabulous woman!" As a friend of mind would say, "That woman is Divalicious!"

I know I'll miss her.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-13T09:21:00.000-04:00

yuck

My nephew-in-law, Bill, took pictures of me yesterday for the new website my husband Will is building. The name William is big in both our families. My Dad was Bill, my brother is Billy. And that is why Jake is named Jake. But that's not what this blog is about.

So, Bill snapped the pictures on a digital camera, hooked the darn thing up to the 25 inch T-freaking-V! And there I was, all these age lines, looking, dare I say it (?), like a Clownie!!! There were a few usable shots, which attests to Bill's skill as a photographer, and after he touched up the obsidian laugh-lines, I'm not embarrassed.

But I'm looking older now.

I'm also looking chubby which is why I'm heading off to Weight Watchers this morning. I've never done anything like this before. Of course, when I was young, I could get on the diet pills for a couple of weeks and blammo, 125 on the scale once more. I tried diet pills a few months ago and let's just put it this way, me and Joan Crawford had way too much in common. I'd rather be fat than explosive any day.

But maybe WW will do the trick. I'll say it right here because I'm trying to hold myself accountable to as many people as possible. I need to lose 22 pounds to get back to my fighting weight. You do the math.

Old, wrinkled, and reporting in from the world of those whose breasts don't say howdy and need a thigh transplant . . . over and out.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-12T10:40:00.000-04:00

the joy of cozy reading

"Creativity comes from trust. Trust your instincts. "

Rita Mae Brown (Warning! Really ugly website alert!!!)

But I think she's spot-on with the quote! And she writes cozy mysteries, which is quickly becoming my new favorite genre for just sitting down and enjoying the read. I have Ron and Janet Benrey to thank for this. Their Pippa Hunnechurch mysteries were just delightful, and I'm presently reading the ms. for the first in the new series surrounding a Tea Museum in Tunbridge Wells England and enjoying it just as much as Pippa. I love these cozies!

Another author you might enjoy is a "wuhndaful" Englishwoman, Veronica Healy. Oh, these books are just precious and the woman can really turn a phrase as well. They're hard to find, unfortunately, but if you come across one, grab it! She'll soon be published with Zondervan so she'll be easier to find.

And then, there's always Patricia Sprinkle who does a bang-up job in her mysteries. It's amazing how, seven years after reading two of her books, I can still see the main characters in my head. Talk about vivid. I need to pick up some more. I just got that Amazon link and I'm WAY behind.

Like that's a shock.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-12T07:59:00.000-04:00

a new idea

Woke up at 4 a.m. the morning before yesterday with the best idea of my writing career. Don't you love it when that happens? I mean, you feel like God might have nudged your shoulder and whispered it as you came to consciousness. So much so, you hesitate to even take credit for it. But I'm excited. And after the sabbatical, I'll be ready to hit the ground running.

Here's hoping your day is filled with new, great ideas and that God whispers in your ear.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-11T07:01:00.000-04:00

when stuff like this happens

The evil side of me gloats. Rich, famous people getting their comuppance is one of my favorite things, much like brown paper packages tied up with string!

2004-08-10T13:29:00.000-04:00

plain truth, tyler style

From Tyler's health assignment today. Her answers are in italics.

1. What are some of the drugs you have heard your peers talking about? Pot, speed, cocaine…

2. How dangerous do you think these drugs are? They are very dangerous. Some of them can kill you.

3. Without stating any names, do you know anyone who has had a bad experience or overdose from drugs? Yes.

4. If you were at a party or club, and someone put drugs in your drink, how would you know? What if you couldn’t see it or taste it? You shouldn’t be hanging out in a crappy place like that.

5. Have you ever heard of "date rape drugs"? Yes.

6. If someone offers you a pill, is there any way to tell what’s in it? No. Don’t be an idiot. You shouldn’t take it.

7. Is there any way to know if it’s safe? No.

Sometimes it's refreshing to see the niceties removed, isn't it? Fourteen-year-olds are pretty darn good at that.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-10T08:01:00.000-04:00

standin' in the need of prayer

This article from the Chicago Tribune really highlights for me how blessed I am to take for granted getting up on Sunday and driving to church without fear of getting bombed. Please take a little time to read it, it not only reports on the bombings, but on the history of Christians in general in Iraq. Very interesting. We definitely need to be in prayer for our Iraqi brothers and sisters. They are very much a part of the body of Christ, right alongside you and me.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-08T19:19:00.000-04:00

sabbatical report

I've actually read some books that have done me good and God is slowly but surely settling my soul into a resting period. I find myself connecting with Him, in my head -- you know how that goes -- at all sorts of odd times and places. I find myself a lot more willing to trust Him now that I can't put my hands on the steering wheel. You know, He's doing a fine job. Well, He's always done a fine job, I've just always been sitting in the passenger seat under the delusion I'm actually driving the car.

So far, I've come to the point of realization that I pretty much don't know squat when it comes to most things and while I'm not really fine with that completely, I have to think that might just be what's on the agenda. To be fine with my limitations. Positively, though, He's busy, moving around, doing the divine waltz. I'm learning to recognize the dance and am really excited about jumping right out onto the floor and being swept away. But first, I think I'm being called to observe His moves, bob in rhythm a bit, feel the music and wait until He comes up and signs my dance card.

Still the punch is pretty good here by the wall and I've been eyeing those macadamia nut, chocolate chip cookies on the refreshments table.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-08T19:06:00.000-04:00

on the turntable

The turntable? Oh, would those days were here. I'd be twenty again.

Wait. If I had to relive the last twenty years not knowing what I know now . . . hmm, pass the CD player.

You know, I'm just not very cool when it comes to music. Will is into jazz which is cool and smart. Right now my CD player in the car holds:

Third Day - some worship album which I love but don't ask me to remember the name. I don't do stuff like that.
James Taylor's greatest hits.
Seed of Faith kids CD
Black Eyed Peas -- Will put that in because he's cooler than I am. I do like it, though, when I'm not in a mellow mood.
Relient K - Tyler's CD, which is hilarious, especially Pink Tux.
Good Charlotte - my favorite CD of the bunch. Love those Marylanders!
And I can't remember the other four.

Okay, Tyler just walked up, three of the others are DC Talk Supernatural and Intermission, Caedmon's Call - 40 Acres.

Got to get some Billy Joel back in play. Heard Rosalinda's Eyes yesterday and became immersed in nostalgia. "I can always find my Cuban skies, in Rosalinda's Eyes."

I love music that takes me back. Call me a sentimental fool. What takes you back?

grace,

lisa

2004-08-07T19:38:00.000-04:00

Boxer Man

While hanging out at the cigar shop this afternoon I had the chance to chat with an almost 75-year-old man, wheelchair bound for 51 years, who used to be a boxer.

"Did you ever get your nose broken?" I asked.

"Just once. I came out the ring and my trainer says, 'Your nose is broken.' I asked, 'Really?' He said, 'Yeah, looks like you're turning a corner.'"

Boxer man winked then, said, "Good thing I didn't sneeze. I mighta blew my ear off!"

He's not mad or angry about life in a wheelchair. In fact, he's crazy and nice and talkative. "I find it's better not to go through life miserable."

And if anybody could, it would be Boxer Man.

Makes you more than a little thankful, doesn't it?

grace,

lisa

2004-08-07T11:34:00.000-04:00

aww, man

Rick James died yesterday. This is not super freaky at all. A one-of-a-kind human being is gone and that always make me sad.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-06T16:57:00.000-04:00

three years ago

Today marks the three year anniversary of my mom's passing. Sometimes it seems like three days. But I feel a little blue when I think about the milestones that will occur in my children's lives without my mom and dad there to do the grandparent gloat. And there are still days where I just want my mother.

My mom loved me. I never doubted this for one second. And isn't that a legacy we all want to leave with our children? They'll remember our craziness, our mistakes, our selfishness and our pride. But hopefully, like me, they'll remember the times we laughed together, watched favorite shows, ate Christmas dinners and shopped for special clothes like saddle shoes for cheerleading or long dresses for formals. Hopefully they'll never wonder that they held first place in our hearts.

One thing my kids won't remember doing with me that I remember doing with mom is picketing abortion clinics in the early days of the pro-life movement, chapped hands clinging to the rough wood supporting the placard, getting yelled at and given the finger by motorists driving by. While I'm still involved in the movement, picketing isn't my thing these days, but I'm sure Joy would approve that I still care about the precious pre-born citizens and their moms too. Mom never blamed the women. Marching on Washington, showing films to youth groups, listening to her debate on the radio, driving her -- once she became ill -- to the board meetings of National Right to Life. It's something we cared about together.

Mom played bridge too. She was great at it. She also crocheted lots of clothing for my Barbies and cooked me a hot breakfast every morning. My sister Lori loved cheese eggs on toast. When she left for college, I begged my Mom, "Don't ever make that again, I'm so sick of cheese eggs!" (Love you, Lo!) She didn't. Her Brunswick Stew was the best and could she make a great shrimp salad or crab cake. She could type like the wind and when she was young, she knew all the statistics of the Orioles and liked whiskey sours. White Zin filled in during her later years. She was always on a diet but baked fabulous cinnamon rolls. She couldn't resist a good cheese bun, though. Joy shook her head, mystified at me and my dad laughing our butts off at The Benny Hill Show. But she loved to laugh. She just didn't like to laugh at Benny Hill. She'd go to the theatres to see Julia Roberts or Hugh Grant. Her porcelain skin never once sported a tan for she'd even burn after sitting under the umbrella. She loved shows like The New Detectives and laughed her share at Becker. In fact, her last words were uttered during that show. "That Becker. He's such a jerk." Ha!

She died ten minutes later. Slipping away there on the couch.

This is rambling, I know and maybe I'm oversharing, but sometimes a gal just needs to emote.

I miss you, Joy. Everyday. But especially right now.

love, your daughter, lisa

2004-08-06T08:11:00.000-04:00

two red leaves and coffee on the deck

Autumn comes early to Maryland this year and I'm all for it.

Yesterday two scarlet leaves lay in the yard. Don't know from whence they fell. I saw no others. But they lay there on the long grass, like visual popping corn springing up to meet my gaze and I thought, Man! I forgot how much I love you guys, and instantly, the world cooled down a degree or two and for the first time in my life I wished the month of August away, thinking maybe a sweater would just do the trick to gentle my soul and socks might be a nice way to gear up for my scattered life as I puttered the mower up toward the driveway.

This morning, I let Miles Davis out for his morning constitutional. The air had cooled overnight, I'd guess settling somewhere in the high 50's. I immediately ran upstairs where Will was checking his email and suggested our morning hot cuppas on the deck. "Put your sweatshirt on."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's like fall out there."

So we sat together, he with his tea, me with my coffee, and we chatted and dreamed and planned and thought big ideas and planned big plans because that first taste of Autumn, the cool slip of a changing season in your mouth, down your throat and filling your heat-addled summer lungs makes you think that just about anything is possible, and maybe, just maybe even probable.

grace to all of my bloggie friends today,

lisa

2004-08-04T21:46:00.000-04:00

tres weird

My teenage daughter is sitting in the family room with her cousin and her cousin's boyfriend, laughing and watching a movie.

I'm the 40-year-old mom making the popcorn.

Sometimes these grown-up moments really freak me out.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-03T20:44:00.000-04:00

creativity quotes

"The mainspring of creativity appears to be the same tendency which we discover so deeply as the curative force in psychotherapy, man's tendency to actualize himself, to become his potentialities. By this I mean the organic and human life, the urge to expand, extend, develop, mature - the tendency to express and activate all the capacities of the organism, or the self."

Carl Rogers

I'm not sure what the *$%@# this even means!

lisa

2004-08-03T03:20:00.000-04:00

papa's got a brand new badge

Will works in DC. He gets to walk by armed guards now that protect his building under this new, heightened alert. Lucky us, his building is right smack between the World Bank and whatever the other one is that's been targeted. And he gets to wear a new badge that tells authorities he's supposed to be there. I'd like to say I've gotten used to this new way of life, but I just haven't. Oh, it's not that I'm going to stay indoors and cower under the bedsheets or anything, but living in such a volatile area sucks at times like this. And Will seems to find himself part of the action in one way or another. He's like that, tending to be in the thick of things.

Thank you, Al Quaeda. (And can somebody tell me the correct pronunciation of that? Is it Al KAY-da, or Al KI-da?)

grace,

lisa

2004-08-02T20:46:00.000-04:00

tooting one's own horn

"In the modern world of business, it is useless to be a creative original thinker unless you can also sell what you create. Management cannot be expected to recognize a good idea unless it is presented to them by a good salesman."
David M. Ogilvy

Well, doesn't this just make you want to stick your head in a oven?

I mean, I hope he's wrong. But I've been around long enough to know the drill, watching writers pass me by, saleswise, year after year after year, because they are shameless self-promoters. Why can't I have that kind of moxy? Why am I embarrassed to belly up to the bar?

Drat.

grace,

lisa

2004-08-01T20:38:00.000-04:00

"When Alexander the Great visited Diogenes and asked whether he could do anything for the famed teacher, Diogenes replied: 'Only stand out of my light.' Perhaps some day we shall know how to heighten creativity. Until then, one of the best things we can do for creative men and women is to stand out of their light. "
John W. Gardner (1912 -2002)

Well all I can say is, Amen to that!

grace,

lisa

2004-07-30T10:25:00.000-04:00

working saints

Lately, my mind has sought refuge in the memory of a woman whose name I cannot remember.   She walked quietly through a brief portion of my life during a time when I scurried forth in front of a four-prong prod: being the mother of young children, wife, writer and caretaker to a dying parent. I don’t remember her name. I’ll call her Barbara.

Barbara and I met at a writer’s night at a store in Hunt Valley Mall owned by author Bernadette A. Moyer. Barbara wrote a children's book, published, beautifully illustrated. But tucked away somewhere at home a novel waited to be loosed on the general public. I later visited Barbara at her home where she lived with her retired husband. And in good faith, I took the manuscript, eager to read it. But I didn't. Life got away with me. Mom got sicker, the kids more involved, Will's dot com venture more frantic. I regret that and if you're reading this, my friend, please email me!

Barbara gave me a gift that day she opened the door to her home with a wide sweep and made me tea and cookies. We sat together in her living room talking books. Then we switched to God and Barbara changed my life forever with just six words.

"I just love God so much."

Six words uttered with the matter-of-fact familiarity and unmistakeable affection one would use to describe one's feelings for say, a sister, a best friend, or quite possibly a lover you've had for years.

"I just love God so much."

And in that moment, I realized that I did too. That He lived within every sort of love I could express and that not only did He own my devotion, my gratitude, my worship -- He owned my fond affection. What was once a trickle of human emotion -- God being on the lofty plain -- gushed open into something so real and deep, I suddenly realized the meaning of prayer and I began walking alongside my Creator, each step accompanied by the presence of my Divine friend.  I truly gave Him my heart.

In Prism magazine, Sept./Oct. 2002, is an article entitled Working Saints.  Their definition:

     "They love and influence you over a whole lifetime, or they cross your path only once but make an impression that remains forever, like a handprint on your heart.
     "We call them Working Saints, those nameless disciples of Christ who live out their faith every day, without praise or remuneration or recognition, folks who work hard and bear witness to their Lord in ways that influence--subtly but significantly--the lives of those around them."

Barbara is my working saint. She gave a gift I needed to get through the tough years of my mother's illness and my children's smallness. She gave me a gift that upholds me even now.

Who are your working saints?

grace,

lisa

2004-07-29T20:49:00.000-04:00

i'm sorry, i was wrong

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong."
Joseph Chilton Pearce

I've often thought my next tattoo should be the title of this blog, inked right on my forehead. It sure would save me time and energy. Recently I received an email, sent in Christian love, but very stern in its tone, telling me I had created an African-American character that did a disservice to African-Americans. Unfortunately, the reader had only read a small portion of the book so I'll never know if I redeemed things or not. But she was right in a lot of ways and I had to admit, that if I wrote the book now, I would do things differently. And I told her so. I related that I am on a journey through this life and while I'd like to get more things right than I do wrong, I know the opposite is true.

Hence the tattoo. But being wrong is the chance we have to take, even if it is in print.

I've never read anything by Joseph Chilton Pearce, in fact he may be a new age guru for all I know, but his book Magical Child, has some interesting reviews that might encapsulate the idea behind the book. Here they are: stop forcing your child into a mold, cut down on all the activities you're running them around to each day, turn off the television, it can be harmful if a child is forced to read too early. This, according to the reviewer, stunts the natural creativity of the child. Makes perfect sense to me.

So let's take it a step further. Let's do the same thing for ourselves. Let's allow ourselves freedom from too many obligations. Jesus never said, "Blessed are the busy" did He? But "busy" is what we say now, not "fine", when people ask us how we are. What if people started responding, "Oh, shame, dearie. Hopefully you'll soon learn what's really important to you"?

Perhaps a lot of us just don't want to be wrong. I know I don't. Conventional wisdom tells me I should expose my kids to all sorts of things so they'll excell at one or two, when in my heart, I know they'll find it on their own anyway. I did. Anybody born before 1975 did. Our parents weren't running us around all over kingdom come. Conventional wisdom tells me it's wrong to wile away the afternoon reading, when in my heart, I know that I will not grow if I do not read, something I love doing. For others it might be needlework, or painting, or, heaven forbid, running! But if I read away the afternoon, am I allowed to respond, "I'm so busy!" when someone asks me how I am? Hmm. Well, maybe. Maybe I'm busy doing what's important to me, a writer and a reader. And isn't that okay? Isn't that what will, in the end, help fuel my creativity, the fuel of my calling? So why do I feel so guilty doing it?

Because I think everyone else in the world judges reading as a waste of time, an extracurricular activity like watching TV, and therefore something that simply doesn't count.

What, creative friend, can we clear off of our plates, our kids' plates, the family plate? And why aren't we doing it? It's a question I hope to answer for myself before school begins.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-28T20:51:00.000-04:00

an honor

"My future starts when I wake up every morning... Every day I find something creative to do with my life."

Miles Davis (1926 - 1991)

We have a cat named Miles Davis. He wears his black fur long and fluffy. He possesses attitude. Everyday he waits by the door in the family room, ready to go outside, roam around, hunt small helpless creatures and sit by the tree in the neighbor's yard outside their sunroom. Molly, the little white terrier barks and barks at Miles from behind the glass. Miles sits there and if he could fashion an expression, it would be a smirk. Miles has business to do and he does it.

So do we. And we are honored to have been bestowed with a certain creativity that cuts out words and sews them together in strings and bits, braids and twists, patches and patterns, creating a unique design. Maybe it's a tapestry. Perhaps it's a quilt. Maybe it's homespun garland, each scrap of fabric knotted tightly to some cord in a pattern you've carefully chosen. Whatever it is it's yours alone and it won't get finished without you.

And when it's done, ah, when it's done, the sense of accomplishment is like no other.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-28T14:50:00.000-04:00

this just in from the nightstand

I finished Bring 'Em Back Alive last night. Honestly, folks. A must read. Dave Burchett is hilarious as well as insightful. And he lets no one off the hook. I like that.

I just began reading Messy Spirituality by Mike Yaconelli. Only a chapter in and I think, "What did he manage to crawl inside my head when he was writing this book?" If you feel like a misfit Christian like I do; if you feel like you don't read the Bible enough, pray enough or just be "spiritual" enough; if you're tired of reading books by perfect white men in suits - this is the book for you.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-27T17:26:00.000-04:00

Asimov on persistence

"You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you're working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success - but only if you persist."

Isaac Asimov (1920 - 1992)

IOW, keep on keeping on, writers everywhere!

I was just talking to Will about how I want my voice as a writer to sound. Not my writing voice, mind you. But how does Lisa sound when she's talking about writing or to other writers? Many voices out there want to punish us. Like an unskilled parent, they want to beat us into submission to turn out better works. They seek to shame us into excellence. And as I said before, I fell into this camp.

But what child responds to such a tack? My children sure don't!

I want to sound different now. I want to be a person shares the corner of any writer out there who is trying to better him/herself. I want to be known as someone who walks the journey, extending a hand filled with grace and the belief that with God's help, we can all do great things for the kingdom, that we can ruthlessly pursue excellence and when the voices of disdain grow loud, from talented folks and those who wish they were, let's drown them out with the most beautiful, thoughtful words we can muster, displayed on the pages of our own work.

Don't be discouraged and set that manuscript in a drawer. Keep pressing forward always remembering there is no one out there that can write like you, that has lived the life you have lived, or can tell the stories you alone can tell.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-27T08:14:00.000-04:00

holy ground

Dave Burchett, in Bring 'Em Back Alive, tells the story of Fred Rogers during his days as a divinity student.

While Mr. Rogers studied at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, he'd attend different churches each Sunday to hear varying styles of preaching. One Sunday he listened to, "The most poorly crafted sermon I had ever heard."

When he turned to his friend who accompanied him to say that very thing he saw she was crying. "It was exactly what I needed to hear." she told him.

Rogers later said, "That's when I realized that the space between someone doing the best he or she can and someone in need is holy ground. The Holy Spirit had transformed that feeble sermon for her--and, as it turned out, for me, too."

No matter how good we'll get, there will always be room for improvement. But no matter how much improvement we need, the Holy Spirit will always prove trustworthy, capable of planting a seed from the fruit of our labors into the fertile field of a human heart He's prepared to receive it. He's amazing that way. I think of a part of the mass that always thrilled me.

"Lord, accept the sacrifice of our hands, for the praise and glory of Your Name, for our good, and the good of all Your church." And I might add, "and all those You love."

hope it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood of your creativity! (i know, that was lame!)

lisa

2004-07-26T09:33:00.000-04:00

here's an idea

How to combat the lack of quality in Christian writing:

Instead of trashing Christian writers, why not write that "something brilliant" yourself?

I've been a real trasher in the past, I admit it. Well, you know what? I'm done. I'm just going to fight bad writing by becoming a better writer, not pointing out bad writing. Obviously, from what I read on the internet, there are enough people taking care of that already. And maybe there's a place for it, probably there is because there have to be the pricklers that cause the artists to take stock. But it isn't a place I want to live. I can't be a critic and an artist. (Unless it's being a critic of my own work, in which case, I'm as ruthless as can be.) It kills something in my spirit that I just can't afford to be without. Maybe a better person could walk that line. I can't.

IOW, I'm going to put up and shut up.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-26T09:21:00.000-04:00

Bring 'Em Back Alive

This book is just fabulous. Go buy a copy. Really. Cool segment below when Dave Burchett, speaking of God's vision and purpose for a pastor, touched on something that pertains to writers. On page 81.

"May I suggest that God is big enough to be creative with His vision and purpose for your flock (writing)? When I study how God works throughout the Bible, I see that His methods are unique in almost every situation. I don't discount that much can be learned from other churches, but I do struggle with the "seminary (writing conference?) mentality" that suggests it is important for Fellowship A to look as much as possible like Fellowship B because Fellowship B is, by all accounts, "successful." To draw a comparison, I cannot write like Philip Yancey because my brain isn't big enough. It would be a huge mistake for me to try to copy what Yancey does, and if I pursued that vain effort, I would miss God's purposes for me. So I attempt to communicate with humor and candor what God is teaching me. I write like Dave Burchett, and I am confident that I will face little competition in this niche. What I'm trying to say is, give yourself and the Holy Spirit some credit. God may just have something in mind for your flock (writing) that won't come from any seminar."

grace,

lisa

2004-07-25T14:38:00.000-04:00

on the nightstand

right now:

Humble Pie, by Janet and Ron Benrey. A cozy mystery set in a fictional town in Maryland. My guilty reading pleasure? Cozy mysteries.

Bring 'Em Back Alive: A Healing Plan for Those Wounded by the Church, Dave Burchett. He also wrote When Bad Christians Happen to Good People, which I haven't read yet. So far, so very, very good. And boy, have I had some zingers thrown at me, too, as someone who can all too easily sit by and let things happen instead of really reaching out to the wounded. Maybe I'm not wounding many people, but how many people am I actually helping?

and finally:

Our Father Who Art in a Tree, by Judy Bascoe, an Australian novelist. First line:

It was simple for me, the saints were in heaven and guardian angels had extendable wings like Batman and my dad had died and gone to live in the tree in the backyard.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-24T05:32:00.000-04:00

the rest of the story

Noah was really, well, grand - amazing singing, wonderful scenery. And I remember thinking, "Jehovah loves me." Thoughts don't get much better than that. In a very Christ-centric faith, these days it's good to be reminded of God the father, and that He has a name. It makes it all so much more personal.

Of course the show basically ends with the rainbow and God's promise. (With a surprise appearance by Jesus that made me feel a little uncomfortable.) Big music, applause, and we were soon filing into the aisles to go home.

In the car, Tyler pipes up. "I couldn't help thinking, In a few days that man is going to be drunk!"

"Me too, Tyler!" Me. "And there'll be that whole naked thing."

My sister Lori says, "Me too! And I kept looking at Ham and thinking, You're going to be cursed! You're going to be cursed!"

Hmm. Wonder why they didn't include that stuff?

I said, "In typical old testament fashion, the story gets really messy!"

You know, God is the ultimate non-sentimentalist. Just when you're told about a really big rainbow and a promise, somebody gets schnockered. Just when you've read about cool battles and victories, somebody sleeps with the general's wife and offs the general. Just when the church really starts growing, people have to lie about the price of their field, and end up dropping dead, carried out in the arms of "the young men."

The Bible really is the messiest book around, isn't it? And I can't think of a book out there in the mainstream world containing gorier, more sexually disturbing situations. Imagine if we wrote a novel about a guy whose concubine is gang raped to death, then he gets so mad at the gang rapists, he cuts the woman's body in twelve pieces and sends them around the kingdom to incite said kingdom to decimate in battle the men of the entire tribe from which the gang rapists, those awful men of Gibeah, came? Whoa. Quentin Tarantino only thinks he's livin' on the edge!

But all that gives me hope in some twisted way. That God's grace extends farther than man's sin can reach astounds me and I can say, "Yes, that God, Jehovah by name, is my God, too."

grace,

lisa

2004-07-23T12:47:00.000-04:00

not much time

Tyler and I are about to leave the house. We're headed for Noah, a production at Sight and Sound Theatre in Lancaster County PA. Real animals and everything. Sounds like it could be just another goofy Christian thing, but I've never heard one person personally complain or disparage it after having seen it. I can't wait.

I've been thinking about the blog about the church with the chains up, and Deborah's gracious response, that some things need to be preserved, and some folks can't deal with change. She's right about that. But what is the preservation for if it doesn't truly further the kingdom? If people live in fear, is that ever a good thing? Isn't one of the primary messages of scripture "fear not?"

We live in a culture of fear, I fear. :)

My friend Tony at the cigar shop and I had a talk the other day about how churches are locked nowadays. He, an avowed agnostic, almost became nostaligic about the idea of sanctuary. And I had to weep a little inside that the church is only a sanctuary for some these days. As usual, I don't know what the answer is. Vandalism occurs and doors must be locked, right? I guess the only partial answer is this: we are the church, and we are the providers of sanctuary - one on one - to those who need to feel there is one place - or one person - with whom they can be safe to enter in, just as they are, in whatever state, on whatever path, they find themselves. Someone who will love them as God loves.

I guess we can make up for the fact that our doors must be locked, compensate for violence and disregard, and open the doors of our heart.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-22T20:41:00.000-04:00

do not go gentle into that good night

Nope. I'm not using that phrase to illustrate a point. You can actually hear Dylan Thomas reading this poem. I love Dylan Thomas. Not being in the know in the world of poetry, I have no idea if that's cool, passe or goofy. All I know is that his words always scribble something new upon my soul.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-22T16:35:00.000-04:00

recipe for disaster

Found this in Tyler's Psych textbook. It's best read out loud in a Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy voice.

The Gestalt Prayer

I do my thing, and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you and I am I,
And if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful.
If not, it can't be helped.

Source: Frederick S. Perls, Gestalt Therapy Verbatin (c. Real People Press, 1969.)

grace,

lisa

2004-07-20T20:00:00.000-04:00

old fashioned fun

The kids and I, along with their Grandparents (Will's mom and dad), went to Williams Grove Amusement Park this afternoon. Originally built in 1852, this park reminds me of what you'd see in the thirties and forties. Family-owned, not a plethora of rides, but the ones they have are still as fun as they were when I was a kid.

The Cyclone, a 71-year-old wooden roller coaster warned us the ride was "rough" in comparison to today's smooth steel coasters. Good freaking grief! I thought my bones were about to jump out of my body, my teeth spin in their sockets, my eyes fly off to safety. Gwynnie sat next to me screaming in terror the entire time! And I wondered if any of the timber was original, if the train was truly staying on the track, if I had lost any brave bone I'd ever possessed, because this coaster couldn't compare in size to anything the bigger theme parks offer these days and I am a weenie, folks, a weenie who doesn't deserve to fide the darn carousel if she can't take a little old coaster like The Cyclone and let's face it, it hurts to simply hang from my arms these days my joints are so stiff and don't days like this remind you of the need to get in shape? But we made it through. My back is killing me Gwynnie's bragging about her ride on a classic coaster. Jake didn't go on it. She's not allowed to talk about that.

While I found out how fun those old rides still are, and how fun it is not to wait in a bunch of lines all day long, I also realized I don't even remotely have the stomach I used to! The Tilt-A-Whirl should really be named the Tilt-A-Hurl if you're 40 or over.

One thought kept me laughing on each fast, spinny ride. "Why do human beings think this is so much fun?" Why? I sure don't know. But we do. I think we like feeling out of control, yet safe. I yelled this to Tyler on The Heartbreaker. She said, "That sounds just like you, Mom. Out of control in a safe environment!" Which is either really cool, or really pathetic. I haven't yet figured out which.

Days like this are the best.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-19T07:22:00.000-04:00

out of the mouths of babes

Our church sits out in the sticks, right across from a cornfield. The drive is beautiful, the changing seasons always offering us a different view of the farms and woods. Two things, other than houses, remain consistent. The cows in the farm on the left are always grazing in one of two fields. And one church we pass, during times they're not holding a service, always strings chains up in front of their driveway.

Stay out! Keep out of our church! We always say as we drive by. We don't want your type in here!

Last night, on our way to our own church for a square dance (Maryland's official Folk dance) we saw the chains again. We have no chains on our parking lot. Some of the neighborhood kids skateboard there.

Stay out! Keep out of our church! You're not like us and we don't want you!

Jake says, "Keep away! We're an antique!"

Now Jake's ten. He had no idea how funny that statement actually is, and maybe even a little profound. There's a protective quality to some old-line churches, isn't there? As if somebody different might just walk in, touch things, and church and God as they know it might crumble around them, and then what?

All this to say, let's make today a day we don't stagnate. See Will's blog about the Sudan if you want to feel deeply.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-18T05:16:00.000-04:00

good advice

If you're a writer you might want to check out Dave Long's blog right away, particularly these posts:

Writing and Advice, The Worst Advice, and The Most Contradictory Advice.

I wanted to comment on the blog itself, but Blogger, in Blogger fashion, wouldn't let me. Anyway, good, relief-imparting stuff, particularly Writing and Advice, because like Dave, I rarely read books on writing too.

2004-07-18T04:51:00.000-04:00

the rock

Psalm 40:1 & 2

1 I waited patiently for the LORD ; he turned to me and heard my cry. 2 He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.

Clarence comes into the cigar shop regularly and buys Point IV which he has to smoke outside because of the wife. It's amazing how many customers have to take their cigars and pipes outside and how they don't complain about the fact. In today's world, I guess it's to be expected.

Clarence just got back from a vacation in Colorado, or as he pronounces it, Cadarada. He talked about trees growing out of rock. "And they grow straight up. Perfectly straight. Not like here, where you have to help a tree grow straight or it'll grow any way it wants."

I nodded. "That's true." Maryland soil.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't have seen it with my own eyes."

"And can you imagine how much we don't see with our naked eye?" I asked.

"Thank you." He pointed at me. "I was thinkin' that out there too. I was also thinkin' that I know now why Jesus went to the mountains to get away. There's a peace up there you just can't explain."

Clarence has such a homespun faith. You can tell he loves Jesus. That he grows straight because he, like those trees, are rooted to a rock. Whenever I see Clarence walk through the door, I can't help but smile.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-17T08:31:00.000-04:00

tammy faye update

I've admitted on this blog before that I'm a fan of Tammy Faye Bakker Messner. And I don't apologize for the fact. Probably since I reached about 30 years of age I started to love this woman.

Well, good news on the cancer front. The treatment seems to be going well. You can read about it on her website. I'm sure Pamela Anderson is still being a support, something I find wonderful.

Tammy is not one of the clownies. I just want to make that perfectly clear. Actually, now that I think about it, RuPaul might not be either! Can an orthodox Christian woman admit she likes RuPaul too?

grace,

lisa

2004-07-16T16:33:00.000-04:00

the clownie syndrome

My best friend Jennifer came up with something we call the clownie syndrome. Tyler and I were discussing clownies today, women who don't grow old gracefully, girls who don't look like themselves.

Now there are some people who look like clownies, but admit their oddness, so in effect, they are not clownies.

Of course, as Tyler reminded me, clownies need not be female.

As God originally created them, this rainbow of people are actually a stunning collection of divine art.

Why can't we humans leave well enough alone?

grace,

lisa

2004-07-15T07:48:00.000-04:00

yak, yak, yak . . . blah, blah, blah

That's what the emerging church movement has been to me so far. Blogs, and books, and blather. Even though I'm a writer, I have to see things for it to have meaning. So we're headed off to the Greenbelt festival in England this August where I'll have a chance to visualize what the heck all this yakking is about.

Don't get me wrong. I love the thought behind this whole thing, but that's all I've seen so far. But I need more.

Hey, if you're headed over there, let me know! I'll have you over to the tent for tea.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-14T08:26:00.000-04:00

what we're reading in the car

We've got this book going for read-aloud in the car. Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke. It's imaginative, vivid and well, we just like it is all! Great for all ages. Even Will is enjoying it. If you're squidgy about "darkness" take a pass. I don't take that kind of responsibility!

Gwynnie likes it because there's a character named Gwin, a little marten that lives inside a backpack.

Don't you love children's literature? What's one of your favorites? Remember The House With a Clock in Its Walls? I loved that book! And you know, I still get lost wandering On the Banks of Plum Creek.

Holy crap! Just looking on amazon for that link, I've discovered there's an entire industry built up around Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Anyway, maybe we should read children's lit more, don't you think?

grace,

lisa

2004-07-12T17:03:00.000-04:00

variouses and sundries

What I'm reading right now? Moms with ADD. I'm not sure if I'm one of them yet, but I've got a sneaking suspicion I'm just not normal, if you know what I mean. Charlie Peacock's book is profound alright, but I just can't seem to focus on it. You know, I'm a fiction reader, through and through. Still, I'm sure for people deeper and smarter than I am, New Way to be Human is an important read.

Here's the latest broadbrush rant against Christian fiction. Unfortunately, the author sounds like he didn't bother to read a wide selection before foaming at the mouth. His first sentence? "Christian fiction has become a genre unto itself, filled with clichés, conventions, and pop-culture imitations." Don't get me wrong, a lot of his points are valid and should be digested and it's definitely worth the read. And the article provides an interesting history of fiction penned from a Christian perspective.

But here's a response to the article I think worth reading and considering from atop the high horse. From Carolyn Aarsen:

I've been pondering this whole 'quality of fiction' concept and wrestling with it myself. I write christian romance and at times catch myself apologizing for that, as if writing stories of hope and faithfulness is something I should be ashamed of. But lately I've been re-reading some of my reader's letters and my view of what I do has shifted. My readers are ordinary people living ordinary lives and some of them are dealing with huge issues. I hear again and again how they like being brought to a place of comfort and hope even if only for awhile. One of my readers was a very articulate, intelligent woman who had a university education and worked as a librarian for our local Christian university college. She contracted cancer and during her chemo treatments, would read my books. I was shocked and frankly, so were some of her friends. She wrote a me a card before she died, thanking me for giving her a few moments of peace in her very difficult world. I felt very thankful and humbled to be able to give her that. If my writing can be a gift to someone, if I can give people a moment of peace, then I am doing my job. I have lots of stories I want to tell and yes, I would love to write sweeping fiction that transcends time and genres and crosses over to ABA and is respected and receives critical acclaim and is turned into a movie starring Kiefer Sutherland (great voice) or Sean Penn (great attitude) or, be still my heart, Will Ferrel (Well, why not?). But, as I come back to earth I have realized that I am comfortable where I am right now. I am only a small part of the writing world. My mistake is in wanting to be all of it and right now. The mistake of many of the writers of the articles that have been passed around is expecting us to be all of it as well. They need to recognize the need for a variety of writers and respect that. As writers we are also part of the body of Christ. We can't all be the brain, the heart, the eye. Yes we should try to be the best we can be and yes it's good to be challenged. So for now I'm going to try to be the best Christian romance writer I can be until my own crafts and skill and life experiences makes me discover other stories in my life.

grace, whatever and wherever and whoever you are,

lisa

2004-07-12T09:44:00.000-04:00

wow, some childcare arrangement!

Lea Fastow, wife of Enron finance chief Andrew Fastow is heading off to prison today. They worked out a deal that Andrew would cooperate with the prosecution against Kenneth Lay, so he could stay home while she serves her 12 month sentence.

"The Fastows, who have two sons under the age of 10, wanted to avoid simultaneous prison sentences."

Aw, how sweet.

You know, my parents, Joy and Bill, definitely had their issues. But they were decent people who abided by the law and tried to do what was right. While I often failed to understand them, they never were an embarrassment to me, they never walked so far beyond what was best for the family they couldn't make their way home.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-11T19:35:00.000-04:00

new boyfriend, new verb

Barbie's ditched Ken. Aussie "Blaine" is her new guy. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. My gosh, how many years was the poor girl supposed to hang with Mr. Plastic without a marriage proposal? I say over forty decades is long enough. Most self-respecting women would have given Ken his walking papers years ago.

Tyler told us the news today. We had friends over for dinner this afternoon. Their nephew joined us, a really cute, blonde boy named Carl.

Will asks, "Ken didn't work did he?"

Nancy - "Well Barbie sure was busy. She was a stewardess, a doctor."

Me - "A teacher."

Will - "Yeah, so what does Ken do?"

Carl - "He Barbies."

Yep, that's right. Ken barbies. And that's pretty much it. No wonder she's given him the kiss-off.

Will - "I had a G.I. Joe. We blew him up with an M-80."

I guess maybe Ken doesn't have it so bad afterall.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-10T20:36:00.000-04:00

requiem

Tyler turned to me in the car today as I was driving her to a friend's house to sleep over tonight.

"Mom, isn't it sad, that someday in the future, some of the songs we love so much will be completely forgotten? It will be like they were never written at all."

"And think how many already fit into that category, Tyler? How many wonderful songs will never be heard again?"

"Yeah. It's sad."

"I know."

We were silent for a while. Then moved onto other topics. I'd like to lay down some lovely spiritual insight right now, but no, I'll resist. Sometimes it's okay to be saddened by the way things are.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-09T18:54:00.000-04:00

permission

I'm reading this book right now. New Way to be Human, by Charlie Peacock.

It gives me permission to not have all the answers. I love that. For years I've felt so lacking as a Christian. Why do I still have so many questions about God and faith and most Christians have all the answers? Why am I not satisfied with a lot of these answers when they are? Am I a heathen because of that?

Well, no. Thank You, God.

Questions are good. I've always known that. But still, I've felt a little guilty about it. If you're reading this book, or have read it, let me know what you think.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-09T07:34:00.000-04:00

"we've got better hair"

Either John Kerry or John Edwards said that the other day when speaking of why they should be leading the nation. (I searched around but couldn't find the article.)

We're in for a long four months, folks. Where is a witty fellow like Winston Churchill when you need him?

grace,

lisa

Disclaimer: This blog does not reflect the view of the management or anyone else at Author Intrusion. When speaking about politics or controversial matters, it writes itself. Thank you and have a nice day.

2004-07-08T06:59:00.000-04:00

if we wore our sin upon our face

My son Jake got Poison Something on his face and neck. Poor guy. He looks like somebody was getting ready for a football game and smeared on the face paint much too quickly. Feels kind of sandpapery too. But it set me to thinking.

What if sin manifested itself like that? What if for each bad thought, each sin, each intent toward anything other than Christlikeness, a bump or a redspot was displayed for all to see?

Oh, man. I can't even imagine what I'd look like.

Of course, the dermatologist would set his hand to the task, maybe rendering it not quite as evident. But gone completely? I don't think so. A great cream would bust out on the market designed to reduce the appearance of sin in your life. Just rub in nightly and in two to four weeks you'll start to see results. But please don't sin in the meantime. Finally, the plastic surgeon would get involved, and maybe he could get it to look a lot better, but he can't guarantee there will be no scarring.

How horrible would this be?

And yet.

What if that's all that happened? What if sin wasn't marring our hearts? Just our face? I mean, everybody would look bad and there'd be no pretending we were fine, no tucking away the evidence that we're human like everyone else, that today was the worst day, that we yelled at the kids while spending almost no time with them, that we drank a little too much wine after dinner, that we looked at a co-worker and thought, "You know . . . that Bob/Alice is quite the hottie these days. I wonder what it would be like to . . ." We'd say, "Oh well, another bump."

As usual, God knew what He was doing when he made the heart to bear the primary effects of sin. It's hard to be human, to be a sinner, and wear the weeping wounds of our own weaknesses upon our hearts. God knows. And so

"While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

I'm amazed constantly at the simplicity of the gospel. At the breathtaking economy. The death of One providing enough grace and goodness to blot out the sins of the entire human race. And the glorious thing about it for me is this: when God the Father looks upon my heart, he sees it through the lens of Christ's sacrifice: no bumps, no scars, no black rotting tissue. Something clean and pink and new.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-07T20:56:00.000-04:00

prayer wimps

Check out Poet in Motion's blog today. I sure can relate!

Prayer is hard for me, I admit. I communicate with God in groans and yelps and yips. I'm the Lassie of prayer. I want to be some mystical person that can lose themselves in prayer and meditation for 3 hours. The type that starts praying, looks at the clock and says, "Oh, my goodness! Where did the time go?"

I look at the clock and say, "I've only been praying three minutes?!"

You?

grace,

lisa

2004-07-06T08:48:00.000-04:00

let's stand in prayer for Christian writers everywhere

Today is the official Pray for Christian Writers day here on Author Intrusion. Think I'm joking? Okay, it sounds like something silly I might do as a joke, but I'm really serious. Post CBA is the most discouraging time for those of us in the Evangelical publishing world. I'd wager to say that if we could somehow measure true productivity, this time of the year would be the lowest. If we could somehow measure discouragement, this time of year would show the greatest amount.

There's a lot of criticism on the web about Christian fiction. Unfortunately it's usually painted on with a broad brush that lacquers everyone. But there are writers in the CBA who are doing a good job -- in fact a reviewer for Publisher's Weekly told us in Atlanta that Christian fiction is improving year by year. That's really good news, isn't it? Let's pray God keeps on giving the grace to do better.

Let's pray for those wonderful writers out there that aren't yet published. I'm telling you, folks, some of the blogs I read contain the finest writing out there today. Look to your left on this page and sample a few. Let's pray for each other today, because, well, God wants us to and we really need His strength to carry on.

LORD, all our words are Yours anyway, for we cannot think a thought or write a sentence that hasn't originated from You. Help us walk inside our artistry knowing its Your artistry. Help us walk inside of Your grace and mercy. Make us excellent, caring deeply that each word we pen is a reflection of Your gift. Help us hold each other up. And realize that when one of us succeeds, we all do, because You are glorified. In the name of Jesus -- Amen!

If you care to join your prayer here on the blog, please, by all means, do so. It would be a wonderful testimony that we, as Christian writers, are joined together in one Spirit for the sake of the Kingdom.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-05T07:38:00.000-04:00

recommended reading

Brad Whittington, who won the Christy this year for best first novel, recommended some titles to me to read during my time off in the comments of "sabbatical crap." Thanks, Brad.

Now, what do you all suggest? Is there a book that revamped you spiritually, creatively, humanly?

Would love to hear your suggestions.

grace,

lisa

2004-07-03T17:34:00.000-04:00

ouch!

There's a man that runs in our neighborhood. For the life of me I can't figure out why. Kneepads choke their intended and he limps along in a wracked gait. Why doesn't he just walk? Surely it would be faster and less painful. I hate watching him. It reminds me of a crack addict who simply can't control the urge any longer.

This man wasn't made to run. Or if he was, he long since should have abandoned the calling. I thought about how that applies to our areas of giftedness and even our lives in general. Some of us want so badly to be what we're not, to explore areas we have no business in, but it seems cool. And some of us, when we've exhausted our resources, are unable to fulfill the necessities. Yet we can't seem to give it up, we keep plugging away, wasting time, wearing away what little we've got left.

This man should be swimming. He might like it! He might love the feel of the water swooshing over him, cooling those ravaged knees. But he's missing out because the danger signs mean nothing to him anymore.

What does this have to do with you and me? I don't know. I guess I just hope that someday, when God says it's time for me to go swimming I don't strap on the kneepads, hobble away from Him, and say, "But years ago You made me a runner. Remember?"

Don't get me wrong, I hope to be writing for years, but if God says He wants me to do something else, be someone else, someday, I hope I'm wise enough and aware enough to jump in the pool!

grace,

lisa

2004-07-02T08:46:00.000-04:00

the money booth and more sabbatical crap

I'm also happy to report I saw no acrylic money booth this year. Hopefully I didn't just miss it.

I have to admit I've been in the proverbial money booth lately. I'm worried about how we're going to survive this year with me on a totally Spirit-directed sabbatical. I've been thinking of all sorts of little projects I could do that wouldn't really count as "writing." I mean, if I talked them into a recorder, that wouldn't count right? Or if it only took me a couple of minutes a day, that wouldn't be going against what God told me would it?

Well, yes. God, infinitely patient with this sinner, set my feet in Hebrews yesterday. Right there in the middle of the page in the passage about Sabbath, chapter four. Particularly in verse seven:

"Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts."

IOW -- I was pretty clear about this sabbatical, Lisa. Why are you even considering breaking it?

Okay, God. I'll stop. I'll stop worrying. I'll stop wanting to break out and be wildly popular and rich and the conjurer of awed whispers behind my back saying, "There's Lisa Samson, she's . . ."

God, I hate this part of myself! I know my writing isn't what it should be. I know I have miles to go before I sleep. I know if anybody needs a break so that she can take a look at her life and her work and say "Oh, man. Oh, God, Help Me!" it's me.

So I just gave up. I told God, "Take this gift I've used so stupidly and do with it what You will." If I remain lackluster in sales, so be it. But if I never grow as a writer and an artist . . . God, that will suck! I'm hoping this time off will help me grow in the craft, but even that is self-serving in the end. I need to grow in faith, in discipline, in love. I need to have a deeper inside to draw from. I feel so shallow! As if all I can do is tell stories about shallow people, because that's all I know of myself.

So there it is. My sabbatical angst rearing its ugly head once again. But if I didn't believe God was on the throne, as we say in Reformed circles, I think I'd just throw in all the towels I own.

Do you ever just want to wake up in the middle of the night and see Jesus sitting at the foot of your bed?

grace,

lisa

2004-07-01T08:19:00.000-04:00

goodness gracious, aunt martha . . .

. . . the Spirit was still at work at CBA!

So let me tell you about Ed and Janet Landry. I was wandering the aisles in the gift pavillion which, with T-Shirts like the God's Gym crap, makes me want to drop to my knees and beg forgiveness for being part of a culture that cries out for this, when I came upon a small booth, the smallest size you can get.

Village Handcrafters - Partnering With the Poor

Wow. Hmm. And a woman opens a box of soap and says, "Can you guess this scent? It's in the Bible."

"Myrhh." I said.

"Yes!"

"Well, it was the only one I could think of." The next day I went back to show Will and they didn't remember me. I got spikenard. I liked the myrhh better. But be that as it may . . .

"So tell me about this helping the poor aspect?"

The man handed me their card. Ed and Janet Landry. Cool.

Janet says, "We were missionaries in the Philippines for twenty years. We could plant churches and share the gospel, but the people were too poor to even live. So we thought we'd develop products they can make over there in the villages, and we'd sell them and send the money back over there."

Yes!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

What a great way to go about missions. I'm sure if Ed and Janet could do it all over again, they'd start their mission hand in hand with the business. Do lots of ministries do this? If not, why not? Isn't this absolutely brilliant?

So here's where you can find Village Handcrafters on the web. Buy all your gifts from them if you feel inclined, and please spread the word. They do wonderful soaps and handmade paper, journals, giftwrap and boxes. Please check it out.

www.villagehandcrafters.com

Here's what it says on their catalogue: Village Handcrafters, Inc. is a non-profit corporation helping impoverished people in the the third world become self-supporting by making world-class handicraft products.

I literally stood in the booth with tears dammed up behind my eyelashes. Truly kingdom-building products. How utterly wonderful is that?

grace,

lisa

2004-06-30T19:19:00.000-04:00

great quote - my new perspective on life

A friend sent this to me. Came from her friend. Have no idea where it originated, but I love it. If you know who wrote this, please let me know. Good to be back in blogland again.

"LIFE IS NOT A JOURNEY TO THE GRAVE WITH THE INTENTION OF ARRIVING SAFELY IN A PRETTY AND WELL PRESERVED BODY, BUT RATHER TO SKID IN BROADSIDE, THOROUGHLY USED UP, TOTALLY WORN OUT, AND LOUDLY PROCLAIMING, WOW! WHAT A RIDE!!!"

I'll have what she's having!

grace,

lisa

2004-06-30T19:16:00.000-04:00

great church site

Check out this church's website. Their manifesto is really cool.

www.stkea.co.uk

2004-06-30T12:56:00.000-04:00

weirdness

First off, to answer Becca's comments: white pizza with feta, ricotta, mozzerella, basil and grilled onions. Amazing!

I'm home from CBA and my head is still a bit muddied after the 12 hour drive back from Atlanta yesterday (and the always thrilling view of what we call "The Peach Butt" water tower outside of Gaffney South Carolina.) So without further ado --

THE TOP TEN WEIRDEST THINGS I SAW AT THE CHRISTIAN BOOKSELLERS ASSOCIATION CONVENTION

10. T-shirt: bearing a soaring skateboarder and the words "Rapture Practice." Hmm. What if Jesus just simply comes again? Won't that guy be mad he wasted all that time skateboarding?

9. Living Water, bottled water. You know, I think I'm going to start naming all sorts of items after descriptive imagery of God. How 'bout Bread of Life English Muffins. Or Light of the World Patio Torches?

8. T-shirt: Budweiser-like frogs and "Don't Croak Without Jesus."

7. Holy Bears, odd looking stuffed bears. Especially holy was the one with military insignia. (Why that? Why not a UPS bear? Or one that looks like the mustachioed guy on pizza boxes?)

6. In-Souls Socks (yep more socks) motto: "Stand on the word of God." I don't even know what to say to that!

5. The Maker's Diet. Just can't get around the weirdness of that, considering Jesus, God Himself, told us to "take no thought to what we eat or drink." Which, being interpreted means to my particular pallet - "let's break out the queso dip!"

4. T-Shirt: a picture of the Bible and the words, "Life Would Be So Easy if Everybody Read the Manual." Really? Shoot, that Jesus just didn't get it right then, did He? And to be honest, us schmucks who try to read the manual regularly still don't get it right, and does getting it right make life easy anyway? Shouldn't getting it right bring us into a whole new, glorious level of hard?

5. Sticker for your car: Pro God, Pro America, Pro Bush. What the . . .? Guess it's true then, God really is an American.

4. Proverbial Wisdom Board Game: "the exciting game of proverbial fun." Okay, maybe I'm just thickheaded but what's so "fun" about the Proverbs? Am I just a wet blanket?

3. EvangeCube. I don't know how to even describe this one. Think rubic's cube with the gospel message. But the guy was nice.

2. Officer of the Lord. Some martial arts looking guy with all sorts of holy armor will come to your church! (I'm sure he's a very nice man, but again, folks, we're just talking weird, weird, weird.)

1. A wonderful painting. Picture this. George Bush, head bowed in prayer as he stands behind a podium with the presidential seal on the front. Ghostly apparitions of George Washington and Abe Lincoln stand on either side of him, heads bowed, hand on GW's shoulder. Quite possibly the strangest picture I've ever seen in my life. Other than Nude Descending a Staircase in which I just can't see the nude, which is probably the point. I've always like Miro better anyway.

So . . . anyone want to add their "odd" bit? Would be most welcome!

grace,

lisa

PS: later - what was very good at CBA.

2004-06-28T18:20:00.000-04:00

holy socks batman!

Today's lovely offering from the CBA floor . . . Holy Socks - faith for your feet.

Favorite book: The Maker's Diet - healing the Church, one person at a time. The scary thing about that is, it sounds eerily like the Scripture Candy motto.

Lots of patterned pedal pusher pants with mid-heel thong shoes this year. One lady in pineapple patterned pedal pusher pants produced a putrid expression because Gwynnie had the audacity to swirl her bag around. Well!

But it wasn't all bad. I want to tell you about Ed and Janet tomorrow and the work they're doing. Now this is something revolutionary in the world of missions and is as fabulous as Phyllis Tickle! I can't wait for you to hear. But for now, the pizza's here!

grace,

lisa

2004-06-27T08:21:00.000-04:00

cleavage at the christies

Okay, Songbird won. I'll just get that out and be done with it. I thanked God and everybody else that night. And I still feel that way. I've never won an award before, so this was highly cool.

Phyllis Tickle spoke and she was charming and deep and fabulous, fabulous, fabulous. She's just one of those fabulous older women who are still pretty but have these . . . fabulous heads on their shoulders and they speak and you go, "Whoa, like I'll ever think fabulous thoughts like that." And of course, you say it in, like, that, like kind of voice because that's how lame you feel in comparison but you can't help but like them because there's something really authentic and Jesusy about them. I'd like to say I want to be like her when I grow up, but some things you just know aren't gonna happen. Now, if I said that about someone like Phyllis *Diller* I'd at least be within shooting distance.

So, the overriding memory of the evening for me, the action I remember doing the most, is pulling up my neckline. Honestly, friends, it was FINE in the dressing room! But I had worn a different bra, and the underwire contraption I strapped on at the awards was pushing things up that should have been left alone! So I stood and the platform, thanked the universe, cleavage haunting me the whole time. "You're Inappropriate . . . inappropriate . . . ina . . ."

So maybe the cleavage was really just some real-life, creative imagery going on there. I am inappropriate, I guess. I just was hoping it would show up more in statements of blinding, slicing brilliance and not in my brassiere!

BTW, Phyllis Tickle, as far as necklines, has much better sense than I do. Which is hardly surprising now is it?

grace,

lisa

2004-06-17T17:44:00.000-04:00

traveling mercies

Just finished reading Anne Lamotte's Traveling Mercies. Wow. Still reeling. Still mulling. Anybody else's observation of this book would be welcomed!

Speaking of traveling mercies, or "journey's mercies" as we used to say in my neck of the woods, I'm gearing myself up emotionally for CBA. I've decided to write down the TOP TEN WEIRD THINGS ON THE CBA FLOOR. My only fear is placing a limitation on this. Of course, I guess I could just post them all and let you decide which items deserve status in this hall of fame of weirdness.

Speaking of weird religious moneymaking deals, I wonder what you've seen in your travels down the cluttered aisles of religious bookstores? Please share! Personally, I never knew tea was so spiritual. But from the amount of books about tea, I'd say it's on it's way to becoming a sacrament. I just like tea. I like the way it scampers on my tongue and makes me feel that all is right, at least for that moment. However, it's still a beverage, a humble beverage people have been drinking for centuries, not something transubstantiated because Christians seem to like it.

On another, less pissed off note, I had to share what happened on Jennifer's porch today. Now Jennifer, my dearest friend in all the world, lives on a farm outside Nashville. We arrived home from various excursions this morning and swallows were divebombing and fluttering and giving the spiders absolute hell! I say hell in deference to the spiders. I mean, if some bigger creature was divebombing you, heck just wouldn't cut it. This is life and death. Relentlessly pursing the little buggers, the birds worked tirelessly until not one eight-legged freak remained. I need the birds of God all time, to come and eat up my spiders. Sure more spiders will knit their webs upon my heart and soul, but I'm trusting God to send in the birds.

grace,

lisa

2004-06-13T21:05:00.000-04:00

love the comments!

It's so good to be in community with you all! I love reading what you have to say. That yesterday's blog about how people "do church" touched a chord is no surprise. Bottom line, we all want to worship "in spirit and in truth." To some of us, that's free form, artistic, the-more-gifts-utilized-the-merrier. Others want quiet contemplation and "reverence." Although I'd have to question whether quiet always equals reverence. To revere is to hold in high esteem isn't it? What better way to revere is there than to serve?

Which is why I'd never be content in an old fashioned church with only an organ or piano. Imagine all the people out in the congregation capable of great music sitting there mute because someone prefers organ music. If our worship leaves the giftedness of that particular body out in the cold, it can't be at all complete.

I don't know what the answer is, but I love reading what you all have to say, what you've experienced. Just goes to show that, as Will always says, God is busy.

Off to Nashville at 3 a.m. tomorrow. Yikes! And thanks again for tuning in you all. I'm so enjoying the repartee!

grace,

lisa

2004-06-12T15:20:00.000-04:00

the emerging wife

Will, my husband, has been reading and thinking alot about The Emerging Church. I like what he's saying. I like the stuff he's giving me to read. I like being married to a guy who doesn't watch sports but watches 'the church.' I can sure tell you that I'm ready for a severe shift in "church as we know it."

You know, I know we're all human and that people are always going to disagree on things. I'm not naive because, well, I came to faith and have been involved in churchianity since I was three years old. But I'm tired of all the programs and the things we all feel guilted into not only going to, but offering. I feel sorry for pastors who "get with the program" because it's always been done that way.

I'd like to go to Beach Bum Baptist Church. Or Deck Disciples. Or Parishioners of the Porch. Why shouldn't meeting together in small groups count as church? Who proclaimed that small gatherings without a specific program didn't qualify as "assembling yourselves together"?

Just thinking through things out loud here. What would your perfect gathering look like? Mine would definitely include coffee and a surface to write on.

Would love to know what you all are looking for too.

grace,

lisa