Jail or free-wheeling inbreeding

I finally updated the wedding blog. :)

In the wake of my super touching post, I must post about this insane dream I had last night.

I was living at home with my parents (as I am now) and we had gotten this itty bitty cute dog, similar to my dog now, only cute. As soon as we purchased this dog, strange things started happening. The strangest being that we had started to see this HUGE black scary-looking dog around our house. One night, this dog tried to attack our family. The odd part is that it walked on its hind legs and carried a chainsaw and could talk. It attacked us several evenings in a row. On the final evening in my dream, my father got a great idea he wouldn't share with us. He told us to wait in the house where we were safe and he left for a bit.

After he left, I felt the need to hide. So I went to a stack of what I thought was old clothes or something next to the wall. The pile was covered by a tarp. I moved the tarp to hide and saw that it was the dog, sleeping peacefully. As soon as I uncovered it, the dog started to get up. She was chasing me with this chainsaw and screaming at me. I was freaking out. Then, like a hero in a movie, my dad burst through the door with a chainsaw of his own. The dream-like part is that the body of the chainsaw looked like one of those blenders from the 70s', with the square push in buttons. He pushed the button, probably on 'puree' and went after the dog. The dog barely grazed my dad's neck with her chainsaw, screaming and carrying on.

I felt an intense rage growing inside of me. I lept from my feet, where I had fallen previously after being swiped at by the dog's enormous paw, and lurched towards the dog. I wrestled with her, all the while she is walking her hind legs and throwing punches like a person. She was wearing glasses. It then occurred to me that this dog was a morphed version of the tiny harmless dog we had bought earlier. I guess maybe I knew that dog had bad vision or something.

I took my opportunity. I snatched the glasses, and in a superhuman strength kind of way, I crushed them in my bare hands. Through my heavy breathing and rage, I very dramatically said, "There are two things you don't mess with. My husband and my daddy." (?!?!?!)

Then, I grabbed the disoriented and almost blind dog's chainsaw from her and cut her head off.

Then I woke up. I was absolutely breathless and ready to jump out of bed and tackle my next oponent.

Man, I have the ODDEST dreams. :)

**Moral of the story**: If you buy a dog, be sure it's not an evil-demon-chainsaw-murderer.

And you should never eat spicy food late, drive 9 hours and expect to have a NORMAL night's sleep. :)

Well, one down, about five to go.


I was in my friend Laura's wedding this weekend. It was gorgeous. She and I have very different tastes, but I must say that I love the way things were done and how it all came together. I was rather apprehensive about the ill-fitting lavender dress I was going to have to wear, but after some creative tailoring (thanks mom) and a good experience with the spray on tan (no orange feet!) it all worked out on my end. When all the girls were together, it was gorgeous.

I enjoyed being a part of her wedding. She wasn't stressed out. She was exhausted, but cool as a cucumber. Her family was doing most of the work and leaving her mother and her alone for the most part. It was really great. I hope mine goes that smoothly.

So I just stood at the front of the church and tried to control my crying the entire ceremony. She was gorgeous, he was all handsome in his gray tux. And he just looked at her like he adored her more than anything in the universe. She is a fairly bashful person who has a hard time being adored, so it was cute to watch her shyly look down at the floor when he would admire her.


I'm reading a book called Captivating. It's by John and Stasi Eldredge. This book is wonderful. It basically discusses the mystery that is woman, and how she fits into the world. I highly recommend it. In it, he quotes Oxford Bishop Richard Harries, "It is the beauty of the created order which gives an answer to our questions about God."

As I stood there at the front of the church, I felt privileged to see a unique angle which only a handful of people in the universe had the honor of viewing. It was an intimate moment between a man, a woman and their savior. As they dipped their bread into the wine and partook in this sacred event, I was moved to tears. It was beautiful. Being in love, knowing that you've found this person who doesn't complete you, but makes the completed you somehow better, and then adding to that the love of Christ, really does educate you about beauty in the world. It is then, that I realized that beauty is a mere reflection, in a glass darkly, of the love of our Father to us; it was simply ethereal. There there she was, the only tangible person in the world who by choice, rather than the serendipty of birth, added her to his life, stood in front of her. The body and blood of a savior who not only created the earth and all things in it, but also died so that they might find a grander, more holy part in it, offered to them in remembrance.

Moments like these are the reason why poetry exists. It is in these times that music makes sense on a deeper level than something to tickle the ears. Pain and beauty and life are all wrapped up in each other. Their humanness touches our humanness, and we all touch the glory of God. The African word to capture that is ubantu. It is the essence of being human. I am a part of you; you are a part of me. We are all a part of each other. And as the family of God, He is a part of all of us.

There are times when words do not do justice to a moment. This was one such for me. I am proud to have been asked to be a part of it. I pray that my marriage celebration, and the marriage begun by it, will inspire this ubantu in others as well.

In my last post,I thought I had basically said precisely what I meant to say, but I want to make it a little more spelled out, because I think that it may be difficult to understand.
I said this:
"I still believe in the things I was taught. I just feel out of place amongst them in that format. I'm not sure what that means long-term, I just know that it's time that I came out of the prayer closet and stopped living a life where I stifle frustration and keep secret the way I feel. "

I read Ian's post. I agree with the point he was making. However, I think that he might not have understood where I am coming from either.

My stance is one of questioning. "Real" is a subjective term amongst people of varying personalities, denominations, etc. When I say I was begging God to make it "real" to me, I was basically in a state where I was not able to operate with my heart. I wanted it to make sense to me. Now that I have a different relationship with God, one that doesn't demand that I really understand every little thing, and still a lot of the things I see still don't feel "real."

By real I mean relevant to me. By real I mean an honest expression of what is inside my heart.

I will go so far as to say that I think that God appreciates and craves all types of worship. Just like people enjoy hearing "I love you" or having things done for them, or gifts given, or time spent with them, or meaningful touches, I think that God (in whose likeness we are made) appreciates these varying types of worship. If you have read the book about love languages, you'll know a little more where I'm coming from.


When someone just goes on and on about me and throws a fit carrying on and on, I question whether they mean it more for me or for themselves. I think this shapes my worship, because that's how my mind processes it. Now, when someone spends time with me, or goes out and does something for me (like balancing my tires) or just holds me, that is when I really start to believe them. Oddly, these are the acts of worship I most frequently participate in. I like just spending time conversing with God. I like to go out and do service for others. I like to just feel held, in the quiet. And I have to say that He made me with these characteristics, and I think He appreciates it when I do this. I think that the idea of leaving one's comfort zone is a good one in some respects, but I would really like to know some scriptural basis for that... I remember something about loving the Lord with all YOUR heart. My heart loves best, and most genuinely in these ways.

All this reminds me of the idea of the church (you and me, not the institution) being a body. So what if I'm a leg. Does that make me wrong? I can't hear if I'm a leg, but to all the ears out there, you can't walk without me.

I hope that didn't confuse anyone any further. Like I said, I'm not abandoning faith, or even the entire pentecostal/charismatic movement. I've just come to understand a different facet of my faith, and I think there is worth in that. Just like I think there is worth in the tradition in which I was raised.

I debated on whether or not to post this on here, but I am going with my gut. I hope it isn't deemed offensive or pointed at anyone in particular. It's not. I have just been thinking about it lately.

I'm not a flaming liberal, and i'm not an uber-conservative. I'm definitely not what i was "raised to be."

I was raised in the Assemblies of God. I can still remember as a kid thinking that church was fun and very active. It was cool to watch things that would go on. I remember seeing people who would be all gung-ho about spending hours upon hours in fervent prayer or dancing about to the latest worship cd. I would always pray, "God, can you please make this feel right to me? Can you please help me find a place in this where I can relate to you like they do? Why doesn't this work for me? Am I not really a Christian?" I was at a point of desperation, not necessarily for God, because I already felt like things were ok with us, but I was at a point of desperation for a place in all the goings on I saw there.

Enter high school: I'm leading worship, doing "outreach", highly involved in the youth group. My familiy went through some tough church crap and my dad got injured on the job, so it wasn't an easy time, but I played the game. I figured fake it till you make it. That didn't work. I questioned God. I questioned everything. Then I went off to bible school. I watched my friends who traveled with the singers do their urban style worship music, dancing around in the praise and worship team stance (you know exactly what I'm talking about there!), and getting all into it. I felt nothing but left out. I just felt dumb and fake when I was in a worship service like that. Many of my friends were just like the people I'd always seen. It worked for them, and it didn't for me. They got something real from it, and I didn't. I felt like I just didn't have a place. My theological beliefs fit in well with the denomination, but my social beliefs and my own personal way of preferred worship didn't.

I remember vividly the night that, as a freshman, I sat in the floor of my dorm room, lights out, candles burning, I believe I was listening to "Love Song for a Savior" by Jars of Clay, and I begged God, "Please make this real to me. I can't pretend. I don't belong here."

I kept feeling that there was this wall between myself and God that these other people didn't have. I wondered why I was behind it and they weren't. I just didn't behave or believe in the same way, and yet, I didn't feel wrong with God, just wrong with people.

Nowadays I see that I will never feel that way. I will likely never be one to dance about the church with banners. That's ok. I'll likely never give a message in tongues or something of that nature. Also ok. I'm not a bad worshipper because I don't feel the need to separate myself from all things secular. Even that's ok too. The thing is, I often wonder if my friends who are still active in that same style of worship can see all that without worrying about my salvation. Is it necessary that I become a spokesperson for the Charasmatic/Pentecostal movement in order to be a good christian? Is it ok that I view grace differently? I sure hope so.


I still believe in the things I was taught. I just feel out of place amongst them in that format. I'm not sure what that means long-term, I just know that it's time that I came out of the prayer closet and stopped living a life where I stifle frustration and keep secret the way I feel.

I also worry that those of you who know both Matt and me will think, "Oh, this is just because he feels the way he does, next thing you know, she'll be a vegetarian." Really, there have been some changes, but not in beliefs, just my confidence with vocalizing and living out what was already there. Just becoming real. I wish I could wear a shirt that says, "I've always been this way, you were just too busy to notice until now."

Anyway, I'm just in the mood to let everyone in on what's been in my head for a long time now. I really hope I haven't offended anyone, I promise that if I have, it was not intentional.

Picture, if you will, a room full of 120 debt collectors. Don't detonate your mind explosive yet, just continue to follow the story. This gathering of collectors is for a monthly meeting, during which time the management brings up issues like monthly goals and dress code violations.

The group is sitting there being subjected to a "skit" in which several employees wear inappropriate things and the group tells what is or is not ok with each outfit. One fellow is being pointed out because of the fact that he has one sleeve rolled up and one rolled down.

The supervisor emceeing this event mentions the fact that he would ask this gentleman to roll down his sleeve or roll up the other sleeve because we live in Tampa. Tampa has an enormous amount of gang related activity. The supervisor says that we don't want anything at work to represent gangs. He says that having any gang related clothing is unacceptable. Gangs have no place in this company. It is dangerous to represent gangs in our enclosed office space. There could be fights and violence if gang paraphenalia is present. He went on for five or so minutes.

All this time in the corner, our very own Ralph, a native spanish speaker with good English speaking abilities, is sitting in the corner fuming. After the supervisor finishes and says, "Any questions?", Ralph jumps to his feet and in a passionate and demonstrative monologue that would put 12 Angry Men or Mr. Smith Goes to Washington to shame, goes on to say, "I feel that this dress code is a violation of our civil rights. We are a company. We do not have the right to tell people that they cannot dress in a way that displays their sexual orientation! It is illegal to opress us! If a person wants to display sexual preference, we should not stop them! This is wrong! It is illegal!" and so on. Wiped out from his outburst, he wipes his forehead and sits. The room bursts into applause.

The manager steps up and says, "Ralphie, you do know that he said gangs, right?"

Ralph thinks for a moment and quips back with, "well we don't need to infringe on their rights either!"

It was a beautiful moment. I was glad to be there.