



I revel in Autumn. I glory in it. I adore the change of the season. I’m ecstatic when I get to put away the tee shirts and capris and pull out the sweaters and jeans. Out come the scarves and hats and jackets. It’s great!
I know, I know…in a few months it will be winter. And I’ll be sick of the cold weather and snow by January, itching to bring back flip flops and tank tops.
But I just want to take a moment to enjoy the present. Let’s just revel in this moment, shall we?
...Oh, wait. Not this exact moment. For even though Summer is officially over, and Fall has arrived, our week here in Pittsburgh was still in the low 80's. That's right. Hmph.
Well, my consolation is that the evenings are cool, chilly enough even for, say, a fire; and soon enough the cooler days will be here, too. Days of air as crisp as gala apples; of trees filled with glorious colors; of crunchy withered leaves underfoot. There's just something so deliciously melancholy about this time of year--whether it's the blaze of color before everything dies, or the harvesting of the last crops before the ground lies fallow for winter, or the promise that stillness and barrenness, at least for a season, is just around the corner.
And yet, there's a richness to the season, too: the scents of cinnamon, decaying leaves, and smoky fires; the vibrant oranges, golds, and scarlets that adorn the trees , bushes, and our tables; the cozy textures of knitted warmth that we wrap around ourselves to keep warm. There is the giving of thanks, and the time spent with family. There are hayrides. Caramel apples. Trick-or-treaters. Scarecrows. Pumpkins. Pilgrims. Squash. Indian Corn. Plymouth Reenactments. Turkeys. Turkeys made from a traced hand. Leaf rubbings. Mashed potatoes. Bonfires. Leaf piles...to jump in. Colorful scarves.
...And so many other things. It's only just begun, and I'm already dying to take it all in.
*Sigh.* I love Fall. Did I mention that already?
But anyway, the day was kind of cool. I went out to the Highland Games up in Ligonier. What's not to love about a place and event so filled with people who share my deep and abiding affinity for all things Scottish? To quote a tee I saw several times throughout the day, "If it's nae Scottish, it's crap!"
I've never heard so much bagpiping in one day. I can still hear it in the back of my head, "
We got to watch cabertossing and a rugby match. Both fun.
Also, I tried new things. On the tame end of the spectrum, I had some British candy. On the wilder, more adventurous end (but not really), I sampled whisky and tried es cargot. (We ended up at this restaurant called The Road Toad....the name is deceptive. It was actually kind of fancy. So much so that the prices didn't have dollar signs, and they wouldn't let us split the check.)
If you’re wondering what the verdict on my new experiences is, I’ll oblige: the whisky was strong and burned going down, but it felt good on my throat, which had been (and is still) scratchy, like I’m coming down with something. (Ugh! I hate getting sick.) The es cargot was actually pretty good…not something I would eat on a regular basis, but I’m glad I tried it.
And sometimes you just need to take a day like that and live life to the hilt, even if the next day you sleep in late and do nothing because you’re exhausted and getting sick. So I’m glad my Saturday was amazing and fun, and I wish everyone a
I have recently noticed something about myself. Every so often I go on these self-awareness kicks, trying to figure out who I am and why I do the things I do. And there is something I have caught myself doing quite frequently over the last few weeks: apologizing.
I must say “I’m sorry,” dozens of times a day. Often for things that are not my fault. Or, for just being who I am. And I’m tired of it.
I discovered this with the help of my friend Lynne, who also is a Recovering Apologetic. For most of our lives, we have apologized to the people around us for the most ridiculous things imaginable. We just had a conversation about it. I’ve apologized for standing in the aisle at the grocery store, for making people wait for anything for more than five seconds, for liking chick flicks and the color pink, for being passionate about stories, for basically being a girl, and in particular being me.
In fact, I had previously considered apologizing for the somewhat schizophrenic nature of my last two posts. But I’m not going to. Because they were honest, and true to what I was feeling at the moment I wrote them.
I know I’m not the only one who does this. Why are we so apologetic? Why are we afraid of making people uncomfortable? I worry over inconveniencing anyone at all. And why? Aren’t we all inconvenienced at some point? And don’t we all learn that it’s just part of life, and deal with it?
There is something to be said for honesty, even the brutal kind. I mean, I’m of the persuasion that all things should be in moderation, so I don’t think you can walk around being brutally honest all the time. There are times when tact is called for, and we should be considerate of people’s feelings. We should pick our battles. By the same token, sometimes you gotta speak up, and let yourself be heard.
There are a lot of things I’ve gotten from reading Eldredge, and one is the idea that we ought to be fully who God made us to be. We were made in His image, and we have a bestowed glory that reflects our Maker. But most of us, myself included, walk around shrouded. We’re afraid to let people see us as we truly are. We’re afraid of the consequences of letting people feel the full weight of who we are.
For women, this often means worrying that our feelings and emotions are too much for others to handle. We bottle it up, not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable with what we truly feel. You know what I mean. We do the whole “Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m fine. Really,” thing. We don’t want to be a burden to anyone.
The problem is, sometimes that means we miss out on calling forth the best in others. The bible says that iron sharpens iron, and we sharpen each other. We do that best when we are being honest with each other and not hiding. And not apologizing for being who God created us to be. He made us each to fill different roles, use different gifts, and be different parts of the body. And we need to stop apologizing for being the part He made us to be.
There are, of course, times when it is necessary to say “Sorry.” And sometimes that’s when it’s hardest for me to say! It’s much easier to apologize for things that aren’t my fault than things that are! But you can hold me accountable: from here on out, I only want to apologize for things that genuinely ought to be apologized for. I will no longer say I’m sorry for being who I am. If I can help it.
I’ve never been great at writing songs. I’ve tried my hand at it a few times. Some of my worst were attempts at writing songs about love. Or at least, my limited experience of it.
There are millions of songs about love. Have you noticed that? Songs about good love, bad love, crazy love, desperate love, obsessive love, and—my personal favorite—unrequited love.
The point of writing a song about love, I presume, is to capture an emotion in a few simple lyrics that will resonate with listeners everywhere. And in these millions of songs, there are a lot of bad philosophies. A lot of bad advice. A lot of bad attitudes.
Now, granted, I don’t know a whole lot about love. I do know it’s more than butterflies. It’s more than chemistry. It’s more than how someone makes you feel. It’s more than looking into someone’s eyes and getting chills.
And yet, those things are a part of romantic love. I just think that at the end of the day, if all I’m looking for is a thrill, well…what happens when the thrill is gone? Or I feel it for someone new?
So it’s gotta be something deeper and longer lasting. I admit, I haven’t quite figured this all out. I don’t mean to be a scientist about this, trying to define and dissect something so complex. It’s just, at this point in my life, I wonder: will I know Love when it finds me? Or will I be too busy looking for what I think Love is to recognize it?
I have few theories about Love. One is that it has to be fearless. Another is that it has to be selfless. And wouldn’t you know it, those are two of the hardest things for me to be. Thankfully, God is working on me!! And thankfully, I have relinquished my standards of perfection. So, I know I’m going to mess up, but that’s okay. I think it’s one of those things that you have to practice in order to get better. And I spent so much of my life holding back out of fear.
I’m still scared. And confused. I think I always assumed that by this point in my life, I would have figured this kind of stuff out. And I’m surprised at how baffled I still am over guy/girl relations. Of course, part of my problem is that I overthink everything. But it just seems to come more naturally and easily to some people, and I can’t figure that out.
Love is a mystery to me…how two people can come together, and decide to share their lives with each other. The give and take. The letting down of barriers and being Real. It’s all so foreign to me.
In fact, the only part of Love I’m familiar with is the pining away part. THAT I know very well. I know how to love from afar. (If such a thing is even possible.) I know what it’s like to feel the crush-rush of emotions—euphoria, and disappointment.
And I worry: what if all my years of watching chick flicks have warped me? It’s only in recent years that it has occurred to me that the guys in chick flicks don’t exist in reality. For the most part. I’m not saying guys can’t be romantic. I’m saying, those guys always seem to say the right thing. They don’t give up very easily. And besides all that, the whole courtship is condensed into a couple of hours. Movies leave out all the moments when nothing exciting or romantic happened. You don’t get to see all the nights the girl stayed up till 3 in the morning, trying to figure things out. You don’t see her obsessing for hours, begging her best friends to help her make sense of everything. You don’t see her make mistake after mistake and beat herself up for it afterward, wondering if she screwed things up for good this time.
And you know what? I don’t think I’m meant to figure this out by myself. I don’t think it’s possible. We’re not meant to navigate life alone, anyway. But Love—well, that’s the ultimate cooperative experience. I love to hear people’s theories and experiences with love—the good and the bad. I think we should share them with each other to help us all make sense out of it.
Which is why, in the end, I keep watching movies and listening to songs about love. Even when they get it wrong. I’ve gotten it wrong before, too. Many times. Sometimes I’m tempted to give up…because love is hard sometimes. It hurts. But even I know that anything worth having in life requires work. Including Love.
So this is my unfinished song about Love…and I’m sending it out into the world.
Let me just be clear—my interest in the show had nothing to do with Scott Baio. I’m a little too young to have been a fan. (Although technically, that didn’t really stop me from my whole MacGyver phase…but I digress.) What intrigued me was that as it turns out, S. B. is on a self quest. He hired a “life coach,” and is trying to determine if he can get married to the woman he loves…or not.
Like the rest of us, S. B. wrestles with commitment issues. Unlike the rest of us, he’s had his pick of pretty much any and everyone over the past 30 years or so. He’s been with one gorgeous girl after another, and notice: he’s not happy. He’s not satisfied. One of his exes described it to him this way: “You’re always looking for the next best thing.”
—And that was what kept me watching. There was this repeated, underlying theme about the pursuit of perfection. I can just imagine all these frustrated girls feeling not good enough because he moved on to the next model/playmate/actress.
It’s funny, because my friend Lynne and I had a conversation just the other day about this same kind of thing. Her mom was trying to get her to meet this guy in his late 30’s who is still single; and Lynne said, “What’s wrong with him, Mom?” And then she added, to me, “I can say that, because pretty soon, people will start saying the same thing about me: ‘What’s wrong with Lynne? Why is she still single?’”
I CERTAINLY am not implying that there in fact IS something wrong with a person who is single (any more than there is something “right” about a person who is married…no matter what our culture says). But if you were to ask me, I could readily recite a list of my flaws. Are they the reason I’m still single? I don’t know. But I do wonder sometimes if my perfectionistic tendencies hinder me.
In a way, I’m on my own self quest; and I think I often get caught up in the pursuit of perfection. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do your best, I suppose, as long as you don’t take it too far. Just tonight I was talking with friends about the little voice in my head—you know, the one who voices a steady commentary on all the things I do wrong. Everything I mess up, every little flaw or failure, every time I fall short of perfection (which is ALL the time)—I hear about it. And it’s hard to get that voice to shut up, am I right?
And I think sometimes I let that little voice dictate areas of my life. That Inner Critic begins to point out not only my own flaws, but everyone else’s. I think I generally have more grace toward other people, but it can be hard when I’m noticing all of someone’s shortcomings.
The worst, I think, is when considering dating prospects. I can be so picky! And I’m not really that fussy of a person. I don’t think. I mean, there are definite things I don’t like. I remember I took that free eHarmony profile test (don’t rag, I never joined!) and there was this one section where it asked you to check off ten “Must Haves” and ten “Can’t Stands.” It seemed like the “Can’t Stands were harder to limit. Why is that?
Because then a guy comes along into my life who I technically shouldn’t like—someone who isn’t the right age…or isn’t, say, Scottish…and who has too much facial hair. Or doesn’t play the guitar. Or isn’t a mushy, hopeless romantic. And I mentally cross him off the list. Or do I? Sometimes those standards just seem to be excuses—things to hide behind. Sometimes it comes down to something that isn’t definable. And in that moment, maybe Perfection is not only irrelevant, but undesirable. If I were to somehow meet my “perfect,” ideal guy, would he be as good for me as I imagine? In Reality, isn’t everyone going to be an adjustment? Don’t all relationships take work? Like I said earlier, I’m not exactly a picnic myself.
I don’t know if this is Age talking; because when I was younger, I seemed to care much more about my Standards than I do now. Maybe it’s Experience; maybe it’s Realism (or Cynicism). But I seem to be giving up the pursuit of perfection. Truthfully, nothing in this life will ever be as good as it could be. Wow. That sounds depressing. I just mean, I should stop being so hard on myself, and everyone else, because we’re all on our way to perfection. We’re just not there yet.
And that's not such a horrible thing, after all.
I must confess something. When I was in High School, I was…a bit of a prat, actually. Kind of a Goody-Two-Shoes. It’s true. I kind of had to be, just because I lived in
I was one of those kids who didn’t believe in Santa Claus, ever, and didn’t celebrate Halloween. I didn’t listen to secular music. I was a staunch little evangelical, and a Republican, to boot. I also disliked peace symbols (a broken, upside-down cross) and yin-yangs.
You know yin yangs—those swirly little symbols with a little dot of the opposite color on the inside of each half? I didn’t like them because I read that they symbolized that there is a little bad in every good, and a little good in every bad. And, being the rational child of modernity that I was (and still am, in many respects) I concluded that this was false, since God clearly had no evil in him, and the devil clearly had no good in him. So. Yin-yangs=taboo.
Even now, I shy away from peace symbols and yin-yangs. But I must admit my feelings have changed a little. After all, outside those two absolutes I mentioned, God and the devil, isn’t everything else in this life kind of…mixed? I mean, even as Christians, as new creations, don’t we still wrestle with our sin nature? And in those who are not yet saved, despite being lost and fallen, isn’t there something that Christ, through us, wants to redeem?
Redemption is a tricky, sticky thing.
It’s one of those things that sounds easy in theory, but is harder in practice. Common Christian knowledge would have us believe that Maturity, growing closer to God, means pulling away from the world. Being sensitive to things that would grieve Him. Cutting out bad things in life. And that’s true—to a point.
Consider, though, that Christ spent his ministry years among the poor, broken, and degenerate of his society. He didn’t keep himself away from all that might taint Him. Instead, He was able to see so clearly and Love so fiercely that even today He is redeeming the Lost.
It’s hard, sometimes, I think, in this world that is so mixed, to find the redeemable. We’d like to draw very clear, dividing lines to say This is Sacred, and That is Secular; This is White, and That is Black, This is Good, and That is Bad. This is Christian; but That is Not. Certainly we have been given standards and rules and guidelines on how to keep ourselves pure and set apart. But when we try to apply these things arbitrarily to something like, movies—for example: Rated ‘R’ movies are Bad!—I think we run into trouble.
Does Redeemability apply only to people? I don’t believe so. I think Christ came to redeem the whole earth. And we know one day, Someday, He will. Until then…what?
Let me first say that I don’t have all the answers. But here’s what I think. I think sometimes we get so caught up in seeing the bad in things that we write them off. We throw everything out—bathwater, baby, and all. I know sometimes it might seem like there is precious little good in something. But I still say you never know what God may use.
This could be said of so many things—situations, movies, books, even people. It’s so easy to disregard something because it looks ‘bad’ at first glance. I’m not advocating filling our heads and hearts and lives with garbage just to sift through for a little treasure. All I’m saying is that it might be nice if we kept our eyes open for the good we can pull out of things. As Arthur F. Holmes says, "All truth is God's truth." He has given us so many glimpses of Him throughout so many areas of life. There are fingerprints of our Creator left on the entire universe. Perhaps we can use those things to point others toward Him.
Just a thought.
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