Ringing Like a Bell

What do you want? Has anyone ever asked you that question? If you've ever gone to a restaurant in the mall food court, you've surely been asked the same question by a bored fast food employee with a mouth full of gum and an attitude. Usually the answer is as simple as, "Fries and a coke." You should see me in a new restaurant. I nearly fly into a panic when I'm handed the menu because I want it all. In my heart I want to taste every new, good, delicious thing, so much so that it's a problem for me. Sometimes I take forever making up my mind or order quickly and experience a strange regret later that I didn't try the "special funky chicken." Most of the time it leads me to overeat. I think, "Just one more bite!" or "Of course, I'll have dessert." There's nothing inherently wrong with enjoying good food. In fact, it's one of the delights of this life, but, for me, the unhealthy relationship I have with food h

Have you ever read The Shack by Wm. Paul Young? When it came out a few years ago, it caused a little stir among my group of friends, partly because Young portrays God as a sassy black woman. There are a few other things in the book that raised my eyebrow, but on the whole I really loved the book. It made me cry -- in a good way. Mr. Young does a good job tearing away the religious layers we've placed around God, Jesus, and The Holy Spirit. I also think he has a way of explaining difficult and abstract things in a really accessible way. The Shack is an allegory after all. Anyway, I was reminded of a passage from the book a few days ago when I saw this Hallmark commercial. Here's the passage from the book: "Consider our little friend here," she [God] began. "Most birds were created to fly. Being grounded for them is a limitation within their ability to fly, not the other way around." She paused to let Mack think about her statement. "You, on the

If there's ever a Lifetime movie made about my life, I'm convinced it will amount to nothing more than a chubby actress bumbling through life enduring a series of clumsy, self-inflicted accidents. Scene one : she falls off her tricycle and skins her knees. Scene two : she loses her grip on the merry-go-round and is launched into a huge puddle of red mud. Scene three : an entire montage of bike wrecks. Scene four : she knocks down an entire row of tables at McDonald's. Scene five : an entire montage of horrendous athletic accidents -- tripping, bobbling the ball, getting smacked in the face... Scene six : she falls, head first, down the bleachers. Scene seven : she loses her balance and rolls down a hill on her college campus. Scene eight : she tumbles off her stool while her students are testing. Scene nine : she slips while trout fishing and nearly breaks her arm. Last night I added a new one to the list; I fell out of the church van while Christmas caroling.

Do you ever think about what your younger self would think about you now? I do that sometimes. Usually the younger self I envision is my nine-year-old self. There are reasons for that -- my ninth year was a big one. I was put on my first diet then; something that has been an ongoing struggle ever since. I got baptized and committed my life to Jesus that year, still the best decision I ever made . When I think back, that was the year right before I waded out into the choppy waters of being a teen. As best I can tell, that year was the end of my childhood. I understood for the first time that I was responsible for this life of mine and that I had decisions to make. I also spent a lot of time then imagining my grown-up self. My friend Joey and I talked about it all the time. We discussed important things: whether or not we'd move away from our home town and what we thought middle school would be like.  I imagine my nine-year-old self would be happy about some things and disappointed

I decided today to write a little update about my dessert fast. If you'll recall, I explained it all four months ago in my post called Confessions of a Sugar Addict . So that means I haven't had any cake, ice cream, or candy for a while now. At first it was really hard. In fact, I dreamed about it -- a lot. Every dream went something like this -- I'd be in a store walking around shopping. Then I'd look down at a package of candy in my hand, usually chocolate, and I would start eating it. About the time I was really enjoying it, taste and all, I would remember that I was supposed to be doing this dessert fast. I'd spit the candy out and feel terribly guilty for forgetting about God and the commitment I've made. I had that dream several times for the first two months. Now, I haven't had a dream like that in a several weeks, thankfully. I don't feel like the longing for sugar is constantly nagging at the back of my mind anymore. I've also managed

One Christmas when I was in high school the adult ladies Bible class at my church, The Hamilton Church of Christ , decided to host a special dinner for the teen girls in our congregation. Each of us was paired up with a lady from the class as our 'buddy' for the evening. My buddy was Ms. Fayrene. When she came to pick me up, I gave her the Christmas pot holder set I'd picked out for her a few days before. She acted like I'd just given her a check for a million dollars, and right away she started talking about how much she loved the Christmas season, exclaiming that the gift was perfect. I'd always known her in a general way, but until I sat down in the front seat of her car, we'd never really talked one on one. She was wonderful. She asked me about my life and listened intently to what I had to say. The twenty minute ride to nearby Winfield was over in the blink of an eye. At The Boar's Butt (yes, it had a drive through), we stepped into a fabulously d

A few guys I taught last year are crazy. I don't mean literally crazy. They're loud, and somehow they manage to find me wherever I am. One morning I walked up to another hall to visit one of my teacher friends. I sat down in one of her student desks for a quick chat before school when these students burst through the door panting. "There she is!" They yelled. They'd tracked me down. Last year they waged one of the best student council election campaigns I've ever seen. They didn't hand out Jolly Ranchers or make empty promises to the student body. Oh no! They just screamed. A lot. In between classes they constantly yelled, "Vote for him!!" Over. AND OVER. They followed that up with a series of posters with Conan the Barbarian [Arnold Schwarzenegger] giving a hearty endorsement. It was obnoxious, but what can I say? He won. There's this thing they love to do - The Trust Fall . It might be familiar to you from corporate team- building work

I'm a Hallmark movie kind of girl, so of course I got emotional waiting for my brother at the airport. I stood there on the day before Thanksgiving with about fifty other people. In any other situation, it would have been awkward standing so close to complete strangers, just waiting around in public, but all of us were united in the camaraderie created by waiting for our loved ones. A flight landed just before my brother's, so people started to trickle out. I watched as people I didn't know jumped into each others' arms, and little children cheered, "Grandma!" As I stood there, a lump developed in my throat. I hadn't seen any of my family in months, so I was already excited. I also felt moved by the love I could sense in the reunions of strangers standing around me. I recently read a book called Edmund Persuader . If you're a Jane Austen fan, you should check it out. Here's a quote that came to mind while I was waiting in the airport: It

A few days ago, I found out that one of my close college friends unexpectedly passed away over the summer. As you can imagine, I am grieved. The more I think about it, the worse I feel. Losing him is bad enough, but not knowing about it for months makes it even worse. Thankfully, one of our  mutual friends contacted me. I find myself regretting not keeping in better touch with him for the last few years. It's not a new regret. Since I moved away from my home state, I have been troubled about the friends that have slipped off the edges of my daily life. Distance separates us, and there never seems to be enough -- enough time, energy, or opportunity -- to keep those relationships healthy.  Deep down it feels like a personal failing because I genuinely love my friends. I want to know all about them and their lives. I want them to know how important they are to me. I also don't think I'm alone in this. The globe has gotten pretty small, and we spend different seasons of ou

Of all the things I need to teach my students, one of the most difficult is clear pronoun-antecedent agreement. For those of you who don't speak 'grammarian', that's the connection between the thing you just talked about and the he, she, or it that replaces that thing later on. When my students write, they are forever rattling off a list of men like Bob, Charles, Tom, and Alex. Then they begin the next sentence with 'he.' I've lost count of the number of times I've written, "which guy?," in the margins of  student essays. A few days ago, one of my classes was discussing a writing assignment. The thread of conversation carried us around to the topic of homeless veterans, which might have seemed illogical, but you've got to remember that I'm teaching a herd of fifteen-year-olds. One girls said, "That's messed up. They shouldn't let that happen." Her friend chimed in, "Yeah, They need to do something about that.&

The kickball game was supposed to be a reward. The only problem was that the kids who were dying to play kickball were all inside doing classwork. The rest of us seventh and eighth graders, out on the P.E. field, would have been much happier with light refreshments in the library. The 'positive reinforcement' didn't seem all that positive for me. I still have nightmares about middle school P.E. class, and in my young mind the kickball game was an extension of that class. I was chubby and uncoordinated -- still am. I had always been picked last for teams; I'd been hit in the face with Frisbees, badminton rackets, dodge balls, baseballs, basketballs, and golf clubs. Sports and I still aren't friends. The only reason I haven't entirely blocked that day from my memory as a traumatic experience is that something really awesome and life-altering happened. I hit it off with my Best-Good-Friend. We were on opposing teams. If I recall correctly, she was serving as

A bunch of vultures has been circling around our school. I'm not sure how long they've been there, but I noticed them a week or two ago. Out here in our rural area, we see buzzards sometimes. They eat roadkill, which is helpful, so seeing them isn't that strange. However, I initially noticed this group because there were so many of them. I mentioned it to my husband one morning on the phone. I even counted them -- there were at least twenty. I expected it to be a random, one day occurrence, but they're still out there. This afternoon they'd broken into two groups, each one circling around a different end of campus. I've mentioned their appearance to other people, and they've noticed them too. About an hour and a half ago, three things happened at once. I thought about those vultures, the lights in my classroom switched off (we have power-saving motion sensors in our classrooms.), and I watched this YouTube video. *It has one, slightly offensive word i

I end up focusing on a quote or motto every year. I don't plan it. It happens organically. Like many other people who work serving others, it takes a lot to keep me going. I don't do my job for money or fame, so my motivation has to come from somewhere else. It's the same for other teachers, nurses, customer service representatives, or anybody else that spends lots of time helping other people. The first year I taught, it was Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me," for obvious reasons. Yep, that year was quite a challenge, but whatdaya know -- Christ did strengthen me, and I made it through. A few years later, it ended up being a quote by this lady named Lorie Keene, " Whether we are biological mothers or not, each of us has been given a special gift as a woman that   can be used to love, cherish, encourage, and nurture the children God places in our circle of influence ." I've already written about that yea

I just read this article called, " New York's Craziest Prenups ." It detailed some of the strange stipulations from the prenuptial agreements of the rich and the not-so-rich. There's a part of me that understands having some sort of contract to protect material assets in the event that a marriage dissolves -- so many do these days. It's the other, now popular, demands that really bother me. In the article, examples were given that seem petty or just plain strange: no piano playing, no weight gain, no pregnancies, or even a fine for being rude to in-laws. I guess the people who sign these agreements before they tie the knot have their reasons. I'll also say that I'm far from being an expert on marriages or any kind of relationship for that matter, but I can't help but think extreme contracts like the ones I just read about defeat the whole idea of marriage. One of my all-time favorite poems is Shakespeare's 116th sonnet. Here's fresh, int

"Oooh, let's call your husband and tell him you're trapped inside the building," he said. Two of my colleagues and I were filing out of the Raleigh Convention Center while the fire alarm blared in the background. I shook my head, "No way, that's beyond a joke; he'd probably have a heart attack on the spot." We stood outside for a while before the building was cleared, and we could go back inside. My two teacher friends and I were at a reading conference. Most of the other teachers there were elementary school teachers, and most of them were also women. In contrast, I was walking around with two men in tow wearing a flamboyant purple shirt and pink scarf. Not to mention the fact that the three of us possess more personality than the entire cast of SNL combined. Let's just say we were easy to spot. I'd love to tell you about how the conference changed my professional life and that I learned a million new strategies for teaching reading. I g

My husband was in no way involved in the bridal registry process when we got married. I asked him about it, but he just brushed me off with a comment like, "Just pick out what seems best." So I did. I went around with the little UPC code gun and had a good ol' time. We live in the house my husband bought years ago, before we were married. There's a guest room painted a medium blue color, and when we were dating, it stood empty. I'd decided that we would need to put a bed in there for my friends and family to use when they visited, so I set out to register for things to furnish that room. Of course I told my husband about all this; however, I don't think it really registered . *wink* I chose a bed spread with different shades of blue, horizontal stripes -- I did not see the whole thing, outside the bag. I only saw the little sample through the window of the packaging. I couldn't imagine anyone actually buying us something that expensive, so I shrugged a