So has The Dictator.
Funny, though, that they still pose the exact same way . . .
The Faithful Alligator
22 June 2009
19 June 2009
The Wrongest Christmas Ornament, Ever
Because little children should all be given an ornament like this one for Christmas:
I've had that image stored in my cell phone for 6 months now. I promised my friend that her childhood memory would be immortalized on my blog.
And in the collective nightmares of us all.
10 June 2009
Sign of the Times
The Princess has spent the better part of today designing her dream mansion. She has charts and cross-referenced lists of what will go in each room. Which closet holds skirts and which holds shoes are all detailed in colorful marker.
She indicated that she would have people working for her, in her mansion.
"Like servants?" I asked.
"Well, to run the pizza place and the bowling alley and stuff" was her reply.
"I would like to challenge you to think about what it is, exactly, that you will have done to EARN the money to build this mansion. How exactly are you going to better the world and make the money to have this house?"
Yes, I actually did say words to that effect. And I went on reinforcing, when she argued that it was just all for pretend, that I'd still like her, even in her dreams, to dream about making a difference.
The latest list that she's making? The list of "Cutbacks" -- those people that she's going to have to let go because she just doesn't have room for them in her scheme.
That's right. Even in the dreams and play-acting of 11-year old girls, people are getting laid off these days.
She indicated that she would have people working for her, in her mansion.
"Like servants?" I asked.
"Well, to run the pizza place and the bowling alley and stuff" was her reply.
"I would like to challenge you to think about what it is, exactly, that you will have done to EARN the money to build this mansion. How exactly are you going to better the world and make the money to have this house?"
Yes, I actually did say words to that effect. And I went on reinforcing, when she argued that it was just all for pretend, that I'd still like her, even in her dreams, to dream about making a difference.
The latest list that she's making? The list of "Cutbacks" -- those people that she's going to have to let go because she just doesn't have room for them in her scheme.
That's right. Even in the dreams and play-acting of 11-year old girls, people are getting laid off these days.
05 June 2009
Lip Service
Begin with the confession: When I went to Pittsburgh, mom, I did not go to Mass.
During a trip to visit with college friends a few weeks ago, I visited my friend Amy's church for Sunday services. She is an elder in her very small, very friendly Presbyterian church. And what happened to me there was the same thing that happens to me every time I attend a Protestant service, listen to Christian radio, or walk into a Christian bookstore: I cried.
Let me say that it was NOT guilt that brought the tears, although I must admit that I struggle with the Catholic guilt because I missed Mass. Somehow, though, I always feel like such a spiritual snob when I tell a friend, "Oh, sorry, your services don't 'count' for me. I have to go to Mass."
I always say that I find such comfort in the Mass and the prayers and the rituals. And how much I like knowing that the same prayers being said around me are the prayers being said back home. The flip side of that, which is enough sometimes to really shake me up and start the tears flowing, are the prayers said in another church. They are different and new -- I am forced to listen. Not just for novelty, but to know what it is I say Amen to.
Two very distinct parts of the service struck me -- one was inspiring and one had me thisclose to sobbing.
[Mom, you might just want to stop reading this right now. If you keep reading, you must promise to be nice.]
The youth of this church have a mime ministry. Yes, there is a part of me that would normally make fun of this or not understand or respect it. That being said, I was so very inspired by these young people expressing their faith so fearlessly and artistically. I know of no 14-year old boys that would so openly perform and portray their beliefs. The mimes performed to a musical adaptation of "The Prayer of Jabez". I know that there is a Catholic rebuttal to the Prayer of Jabez that I can't remember right now.
What I do know is this: I've been struggling so much with trying to be specific in what I ask for, from God. I've tried to pray for what I want in my job search, what I want as a mother, what we need as a family. I am not good at praying specifically. So, to watch those intense faces and dramatic arm gestures praying for God to increase their territories, it felt like specific prayer to me. It was a lesson in asking God for what I want, in fervent prayer.
The point at which I wanted to sob was when the members of the church, one by one, would introduce themselves and state why they were asking for prayer that week. Not everyone spoke. But everyone who wished to, could. Around the room we went: "I am Carla and I know that I'm going to have a really tough week this week. And I just ask for your prayers for me as I face it." That one stuck in my mind.
If I thought I could have spoken without sobbing, I would have introduced myself. And asked for prayer for my job search. Thanksgiving for Husband's temporary job that then had the potential to become permanent with benefits. For courage and fortitude and comfort in seeking what would most give me time with my daughters.
Then, get this: the leader of the prayer (I don't think he was the minister) then led each of us in prayer for each of those very specific intentions. We prayed by name for Carla. We asked God for strength for her in her rough week ahead. We prayed for the sick, by name. And those preparing for a missions trip to Haiti. Each person that had spoken up and requested prayers heard the entire congregation pray for their request.
That prayer challenged me and changed me.
How many times have I promised someone that I would pray for them and then forgotten? Or prayed in a very non-committed, rushed "all those people I promised prayers to" way?
There are times that I have most definitely failed to really lift up in prayer those people who have asked me to pray for them. I gave them lip service with my promises.
In a parish the size of ours, we have our petitions every week that list a few global petitions and then the "our own intentions we mention in the silence of our hearts (pause here) and the petitions in our parish petition book". That's as personal as we get. I know that it's not practical to do it any other way.
But I've been trying to consciously pray for people lately. I've been carrying the petitions further into my week. I'm trying to think of the names and the faces of those people who ask for prayer -- and really PRAY for them, as I should.
I felt selfish for asking for more prayers when I've not been as generous as I could be with mine. And how can I learn to pray specifically for myself if I'm not specific in my prayers for others? How well those young people, with no words at all, showed me a new way to pray -- to just open my heart and pour out my faith and my prayers to God, who understands when I don't even speak. (I will not necessarily begin a mime ministry from this. But I won't make fun of it either.)
Not giving lip service in my prayers and promises to pray for others is another lesson I'm learning. Another change I'm making.
Thank you, all, who have prayed for me. I am praying for you all, more and more, every day.
During a trip to visit with college friends a few weeks ago, I visited my friend Amy's church for Sunday services. She is an elder in her very small, very friendly Presbyterian church. And what happened to me there was the same thing that happens to me every time I attend a Protestant service, listen to Christian radio, or walk into a Christian bookstore: I cried.
Let me say that it was NOT guilt that brought the tears, although I must admit that I struggle with the Catholic guilt because I missed Mass. Somehow, though, I always feel like such a spiritual snob when I tell a friend, "Oh, sorry, your services don't 'count' for me. I have to go to Mass."
I always say that I find such comfort in the Mass and the prayers and the rituals. And how much I like knowing that the same prayers being said around me are the prayers being said back home. The flip side of that, which is enough sometimes to really shake me up and start the tears flowing, are the prayers said in another church. They are different and new -- I am forced to listen. Not just for novelty, but to know what it is I say Amen to.
Two very distinct parts of the service struck me -- one was inspiring and one had me thisclose to sobbing.
[Mom, you might just want to stop reading this right now. If you keep reading, you must promise to be nice.]
The youth of this church have a mime ministry. Yes, there is a part of me that would normally make fun of this or not understand or respect it. That being said, I was so very inspired by these young people expressing their faith so fearlessly and artistically. I know of no 14-year old boys that would so openly perform and portray their beliefs. The mimes performed to a musical adaptation of "The Prayer of Jabez". I know that there is a Catholic rebuttal to the Prayer of Jabez that I can't remember right now.
What I do know is this: I've been struggling so much with trying to be specific in what I ask for, from God. I've tried to pray for what I want in my job search, what I want as a mother, what we need as a family. I am not good at praying specifically. So, to watch those intense faces and dramatic arm gestures praying for God to increase their territories, it felt like specific prayer to me. It was a lesson in asking God for what I want, in fervent prayer.
The point at which I wanted to sob was when the members of the church, one by one, would introduce themselves and state why they were asking for prayer that week. Not everyone spoke. But everyone who wished to, could. Around the room we went: "I am Carla and I know that I'm going to have a really tough week this week. And I just ask for your prayers for me as I face it." That one stuck in my mind.
If I thought I could have spoken without sobbing, I would have introduced myself. And asked for prayer for my job search. Thanksgiving for Husband's temporary job that then had the potential to become permanent with benefits. For courage and fortitude and comfort in seeking what would most give me time with my daughters.
Then, get this: the leader of the prayer (I don't think he was the minister) then led each of us in prayer for each of those very specific intentions. We prayed by name for Carla. We asked God for strength for her in her rough week ahead. We prayed for the sick, by name. And those preparing for a missions trip to Haiti. Each person that had spoken up and requested prayers heard the entire congregation pray for their request.
That prayer challenged me and changed me.
How many times have I promised someone that I would pray for them and then forgotten? Or prayed in a very non-committed, rushed "all those people I promised prayers to" way?
There are times that I have most definitely failed to really lift up in prayer those people who have asked me to pray for them. I gave them lip service with my promises.
In a parish the size of ours, we have our petitions every week that list a few global petitions and then the "our own intentions we mention in the silence of our hearts (pause here) and the petitions in our parish petition book". That's as personal as we get. I know that it's not practical to do it any other way.
But I've been trying to consciously pray for people lately. I've been carrying the petitions further into my week. I'm trying to think of the names and the faces of those people who ask for prayer -- and really PRAY for them, as I should.
I felt selfish for asking for more prayers when I've not been as generous as I could be with mine. And how can I learn to pray specifically for myself if I'm not specific in my prayers for others? How well those young people, with no words at all, showed me a new way to pray -- to just open my heart and pour out my faith and my prayers to God, who understands when I don't even speak. (I will not necessarily begin a mime ministry from this. But I won't make fun of it either.)
Not giving lip service in my prayers and promises to pray for others is another lesson I'm learning. Another change I'm making.
Thank you, all, who have prayed for me. I am praying for you all, more and more, every day.
03 June 2009
The First 100 Days
People are so quick to make a judgement -- how many assessments have we seen of President Obama's first 100 days in office? In a job as complex and all-encompassing in scope as Leader of the Free World, how can one truly understand and develop a plan and style in 100 days? How can we truly judge the first 100 days?
Not counting the actual day my position was eliminated due to the economy, May 31 was my 100th day of unemployment. I realized that and got to thinking about the first 100 days.
I imagine two warring slogans -- both partly applicable to this assessment:
Begin as you intend to go on
As in any endeavor, one should begin as she intends to go on. Only partly true here. Yes, I did begin by praying, by leaning on my Husband and friends and family for support. I put the situation in God's hands. And that is how I intend to go on.
However, I began an emotional wreck. I was in shock. Somewhat depressed. Raw. And I did not continue that way. I have my moments -- fewer and farther between -- when I feel despair or cry. But I have been able to find a certain peace as I begin to try and appreciate the time I do have to spend.
That leads to the competing idea:
Just now hitting my stride
I am finally able to say that I am caught up on laundry. I kept saying, "I can't believe that I've been out of work for xxx days/weeks and I'm STILL not caught up on laundry!" It takes a while to build new routines.
Monday is errands. Tuesday, laundry. Wednesday, groceries (it gives me time to study the ads and coupons.)
I shredded large boxes of old documents that needed to be gone through. I cleaned out closets. We had a garage sale! Yesterday, I purged my spice box of all old or never used spices. I had celery salt from 1995. I can actually close the spice box -- it's been jammed so full for so long with junk! You can move around in the basement.
I'm just now able to really look around at our home and reassess. I'm just now hitting my stride!
I'm still praying, leaning on friends and family, leaving the situation up to God. But I'm also finally able to work in some changes.
I will post this because, if I don't do it now, I might not get to it. My desire to spend more time going over my writing and work it more and polish it more is making my blog stay silent. So, I'll post before I don't.
Not counting the actual day my position was eliminated due to the economy, May 31 was my 100th day of unemployment. I realized that and got to thinking about the first 100 days.
I imagine two warring slogans -- both partly applicable to this assessment:
Begin as you intend to go on
As in any endeavor, one should begin as she intends to go on. Only partly true here. Yes, I did begin by praying, by leaning on my Husband and friends and family for support. I put the situation in God's hands. And that is how I intend to go on.
However, I began an emotional wreck. I was in shock. Somewhat depressed. Raw. And I did not continue that way. I have my moments -- fewer and farther between -- when I feel despair or cry. But I have been able to find a certain peace as I begin to try and appreciate the time I do have to spend.
That leads to the competing idea:
Just now hitting my stride
I am finally able to say that I am caught up on laundry. I kept saying, "I can't believe that I've been out of work for xxx days/weeks and I'm STILL not caught up on laundry!" It takes a while to build new routines.
Monday is errands. Tuesday, laundry. Wednesday, groceries (it gives me time to study the ads and coupons.)
I shredded large boxes of old documents that needed to be gone through. I cleaned out closets. We had a garage sale! Yesterday, I purged my spice box of all old or never used spices. I had celery salt from 1995. I can actually close the spice box -- it's been jammed so full for so long with junk! You can move around in the basement.
I'm just now able to really look around at our home and reassess. I'm just now hitting my stride!
I'm still praying, leaning on friends and family, leaving the situation up to God. But I'm also finally able to work in some changes.
I will post this because, if I don't do it now, I might not get to it. My desire to spend more time going over my writing and work it more and polish it more is making my blog stay silent. So, I'll post before I don't.
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