Let's talk about food for a second...

So, seriously.  Can we talk about how much we love food for a second?  If anyone ever wants to know why I can't lose weight.. here we go.  (And let me make it clear- I'm happy with the way I am, and don't think I have an issue... so this isn't a cry for advice about weight issues; I'm good, thanks.)

I love food!   But who doesn't?  Thanksgiving is like Christmas (interesting analogy, huh?) because you walk into the kitchen and it's like a million presents all in the form of casseroles topped with marshmallows.  Yummm.  At my house you basically take any vegetable, you name it, and mix it with Cream of Whatever soup, add cheese, and some crumbled crackers, and you've got a delectable dish.  And can we talk about the love of cheese dip at Mexican restaurants?  Good gosh.  I'm never hungry by the time I get my meal, but you can't eat Mexican without the cheese dip.  I've vowed that at my wedding reception I'm having a cheese dip fountain instead of a chocolate fountain.  Ok, so I'll probably have both. 

In third world countries, food is a treat; a way to survive and gain nourishment.  Here, though, it's a way of life.  We socialize through food.  I've found this so true within the last week.  As I've been trying to meet people and network in Nashville, the best way to break the ice with someone is to say, "Can we grab lunch or coffee sometime soon?"  I think I'm running out of money because I'm going on so many "lunch meetings."  

When we want to hang out with our friends or even go on a date, we usually always plan it around eating.  We go to lunch, go to dinner and movie, go get ice cream, have dinner parties.  Even when we try to do something different like go to a concert or sporting event, there's always food involved (because you can't forget the popcorn or bottled water with the jacked-up prices!).  

Do I really have a point to all this?  No, not really. I just had to stop and think about much food plays a role in our live.  And I have to say, I'm not complaining.  I come from a family of eaters.  We don't play around with the words like quiche and vegetable tray.  No, if there's a tray it's got cheese on it, and if there's vegetables we call those twice-baked potatoes and macaroni and cheese.  Can I get an amen?

Telling it like it is.

There are so many words to describe God; patient, just, loving, and holy.  And God is called by so many names.  He's called Master, Teacher, Abba, Jehovah.  And He even says, He is the Great I Am, and we are His beloved.  

But there's something I've come to realize lately.  We are so programmed to always wanting to receive encouragement and affirmation from others that we even want them to label us.  I know that I am a Christian because I have a real, personal relationship with Jesus.  It doesn't change the fact that I want someone to recognize it though.  I want someone to look at me and call me a Christian so that it seems right and real to me.  Now, while having others recognize that I am a follower of Christ is great thing, for other aspects of my life, searching for a label from people is not necessary, but I do it.

I love to write.  I always have.  I've never really shared my writing with others though.  I've always kept it to myself and pretended I was only taking Creative Writing classes to "make an easy A."  The truth is, I actually really loved those classes.  I've kept a journal of thoughts, and written poetry off and on my entire life.  And over the past couple of years, as my guitar playing skills have advanced, I begun fulfilling a dream of putting my writing to music.  But of course, I want to share my writing, and I want people to tell me I'm good.   I want them to tell me I'm a writer, tell me I'm a songwriter.

WHY DO I DO THAT, THOUGH?!  I write because I like to.  Period.  End of story.  I don't need anyone to affirm in me that I love to write.  I didn't wake up one day and say I'm going to be a writer.  I just do it.  God gave me the gift and ability to sing and write, therefore I've written some songs, and I'm a songwriter.  God calls me beloved, and I believe it.  He gave me the gift of being able to listen well to people.  So, I'm a good listener.  He gave me the gift of encouragement; so I'm an encourager.  

What I need to believe most is that God is where I find my affirmation.  I don't need anyone to tell me what I am because I can find that written in God's Truth.  Do I love the reminders, ideas, and compliments from others?  Of course.   I would be lying if I said I didn't.  But the greatest reminder to myself and you is that the truth about our selves is found in the most obvious place- the One who created us.

Work in progress.

Here's the lyrics to a song I've been working on for a while..  It's a work in progress.

"Tell Me"

Planned out my day

With a napkin and a marker

Just that simple

During breakfast on my way 

To another beginning

Another class that will tell me

How to speak and write and listen

To find my so-called dream

It's one step closer, or so they say

But why can't they tell me?

What road do I follow?

What city do I go to?

To find the love of my dreams

What can't they tell me?

About passion and freedom

And fighting desperation 

For a brand new start

Why can't they tell me?

How to guide my heart.

At five years old 

It seems so easy 

To live the life of your desire

Be that teacher, doctor, or mother

That will never tire

But now it's blinding

To see all the pathways 

And not know which one is mine

So why can't they tell me?

What road do I follow?

What city do I go to 

To find the love of my dreams

Why can't they tell me?

About passion and freedom

And fighting desperation

For a brand new start

Why can't tell me?

How to guide my heart.

It's not about what you know, it's about who you know

If you know me well, you know that one of my favorite movies is Mean Girls.  I just love it.  While some of the characters and situations are slightly exaggerated, for the most part that movie is very accurate.  We've all known a Regina (or been a Regina.. I'm not calling anyone out...) and we've all had something we wanted to write in a burn book.  

One of my favorite scenes is when the girl gets on stage in the gym during the "therapy session" and tells everyone that she just wants to "bake a cake full or rainbows and smile!"  Then from the back of the room, the gay friend (we all have one, or at least want one), Damien, yells from underneath his hood, "She doesn't even go here!!"  

Poor girl.  She just has a lot of feelings.  She just wanted to be accepted, understood, feel important.

In the past 24 hours I've been told multiple times, "it's not so much what you know, but who you know."  Darn cliches.  I hate them.  But in all honesty they work better to describe most situations than anything else.  Everyone continues to tell me that it's going to be the people I know and the connections I make that will get me a job I want.  Not just searching for random listings on the internet.  

Just like the girl with feelings in Mean Girls.  She just needed someone she knew to verify that she was normal and belonged there... bless her heart.  She just needed a connection.  It's all about the networking.  

So, today I sit in coffee shop where I only know one person.  I work from my computer, something I could do at home from the couch, but I'm reaching out.  I want to be seen, and I want to be known.  Because I don't want anyone yelling, "She doesn't even go here!" at me.

Take me out the game, Coach!

This is the first of hopefully many blogs!  Some of you have followed my previous, more personal blog, which I will continue to keep.  This one, however, is a chance for me to write a little more, explore new ideas, and share my life with many others.  For every friend, follower, or stranger, I thank you for taking a moment to sit back, and indulge life with me.

One the most memorable moments for me was when I was 10.  It was the last basketball game of my church-league basketball season, and all of our "star" players were gone because they each played on a year-long team, and had to go to that game.  It was my chance to shine.  Our team was tied with our opponents, and I was having a blast.  It was me that had brought the team to a tie by sinking in 2 foul shouts.  Boy, was my mom proud!  I remember vividly the look on my coaches' faces.  This was our last game, and if we won that would declare us undefeated for the season.  Now, I know church-league basketball is not the NBA, but we can still get pumped about the games and have bragging rights when we win!   I remember huffing and puffing up and down the court, thinking, "Take me out of the game, Coach!"  I was tired.  I was ready to get to the end; ready to find out the results.  But I didn't do that, of course.  It wasn't an option.  So the game continued, and both teams stayed at a tie.  There were 10 seconds left in the game and our team had the ball when the coaches called time out and came up with our final play.  Guess who they decided would shoot the ball?  Me!  Talk about pressure.

Now, let's switch stories for a second.  Here I am, 22 years old, freshly graduated, and looking for a job.  I just moved to Nashville, TN, Music City, or what I like to call the "Home of All Dreams."  Everyday I wake up, and the day is wide open for me to do whatever I want.  Most days, I search for jobs online, call people, fill out applications, etc.  But I'm tired.  I don't want to be rejected anymore, and I don't want to fill out anymore applications.  I just want to fast-forward to a year from now and see what God has in store.  I know it's big.  I know it's fulfilling.  I want to yell, "Just take me out the game, Coach!"  But once, again, I can't do that.  I know what the biggest problem is, however.  I don't know the plan and it bothers me.  I need God to call a time-out, bring me aside and show me the game plan.  And maybe He will; but I have to trust that even if He doesn't the game will continue and the goal remains the same.  

When our team finished our huddle and the clock began again, the guard dribbled my direction and threw the ball to me.  Perfect catch.  The rest plays back in slow motion in my head.  I turn my body towards the goal,  stretch my arms up, push the ball away with my hands.  The buzzer sounds, and the ball sails right into the goal without a care of the net or rim around it.  The crowd roared, the coaches came running on the court, and the team celebrated...

And that was the last time I played basketball.  I decided to stop while I was ahead!