Driving a Standard

Starting the 13 hour drive to Kentucky today. Stopping at Seth's parents for dinner and good night's sleep. We celebrated my sister-in-law's birthday last night. And now I'm off to Target for the last bit of essentials. Man, I love Target. Target is the bomb dot com of all supermarkets. I also went to (drum roll please) Chick-fil-A the first chance I got. Mmmmmm.

For my sister-in-law's birthday, I got her a real cute bag and put lots of random stuff in it, like jellies. (gellies?) Remember those? They were on sale at Target. I bought myself a pair, too, and I'm wearing them today and I can't wait.


I learned to drive a standard. We're driving my brother's car to Kentucky, and it's a standard. My dad took me out and taught me, and I learned it pretty quickly, if I do say so myself. Except then later, when driving to dinner around rush hour time, I thought I'd show off my new driving skills. So four of us piled into the little car. Me in the driver's seat. Dad front passenger side. Mom and Seth in the back. Seth hadn't seen me drive yet. I was ready to show him how cool I looked driving a standard.

Except that I came to a stop on a HILL, wedged between a long line of cars in both directions. I had to keep inching forward on the hill because we were all waiting for people to turn left. I was scared to death because I had only practiced on a hill in our neighborhood with nobody around. My dad said just do everything normal. Just do it quicker so you don't roll into the person behind you.

So I went into first gear quicker, except I also pounded on the gas every time because I was scared, so everytime we moved I squealed the tires like a bat outa hell and went two inches and had to stop again. This happened I think six times in a row. My dad kept yelling at me to stop and I kept yelling at him to stop stressing me out. And mom and Seth were laughing in the backseat. And some funny smell started seeping out from the car.

I had on bad shoes, OK? They were weird flip flop like shoes. When I learned and practiced on the hill in our neighborhood I was wearing gellies. So obviously, the shoes were bad. I'll just wear my jellies when we drive to Kentucky.

My brother and his wife gave me a late b-day present. A book of poetry by Brian Andreas. I love love love it and was up way too late reading it last night. Here's one I like:

Whenever she stood
in line at the bank
or while waiting
for the bus, I noticed
her feet.
The right always in
front and perpendicular
to the left just so.

Even after 2
children she
still dreamed
of being a
dancer.

Title: Ballerina Mom

And looked what happened in New York today. Yeesh.

Doped Up on Claritin-D

Not one lick of sleep last night. Not one wink. I blame the 24 hr Claritin-D I took yesterday at noon. I usually take a 12 hr. It's either that or the insane amount of things I hadn't crossed off my to-do list when my head hit the pillow.

Speaking of pillow, wonder if I could fit that into my suitcase?

Nope.

Dangit. I like my pillow.

I'm an idiot and sent the laundry (yes we have ours done for us like oh so many others in the city for the obvious reason that I am tired of hauling that 2 ton bag of laundry down the never ending stairs and down the street and back up the street and back up the never ending stairs) to be done Sunday thinking I'd just call and have it sent back on Monday. Perfect plan since we leave Tuesday, that'd be today. Except that Monday was Memorial Day and they weren't open on Memorial Day, so I didn't get my clean clothes back. And Seth didn't get his clean clothes back. And now I have to call them right when they open in about 45 minutes to have them deliver a clean bag of laundry so Seth can slam-pack in a matter of 15 minutes so that we can catch a cab and head to the airport.

See why I couldn't sleep?

And I've got to mail keys to the subletter and mail rent and clean the floors and drink my coffee and take the trash out and pack my last bit and turn the computer off and write instructions to the subletter and put my face wash (the kind that makes my eyebrows two-toned) into a plastic baggy so it doesn't explode in my suitcase and turn my suitcase two-toned, and haul A down the never ending stairs with one too many pieces of luggage and a guitar.

I'm sure there's more.

And I need to memorize lots and lots of lines.

These kinds of circumstances are the kinds that tell me who I really am.

A type-something girl trying to be type-A and failing miserably. But an anal retentive type-something girl with insomnia, doped up on Claritin-D and slightly irritated she's cleaning a New York City apartment so some other girl can live in it.

Wish us safe travels. We're off to Oklahoma to pick up a car cuz remember we sold ours. I'm sure I'll have calmed down by then.

asdlfkajs!!!

How do you flippin pack for the whole summer?

Ugh.

I've been absent. It's just because I'm losing my mind. No big deal.

Canceled Debt

This past Sunday, Tim Keller preached on forgiving others. He used the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant in Matthew 18. Dr. Keller said that the way we forgive others is the way the King forgave his servant (probably a ruler of a designated area underneath the King, like Caesar and the Roman Empire) who owed him a very large amount of money and couldn't pay. Possibly due to a mistake in the ruling of his designated area, but who knows. The King first had pity on the man, or in other words, he related to the man, and the King's heart went out to him. Then he canceled the debt, which meant actually taking the payment on himself, making up for the loss himself, and taking care of whatever damage was done with his own resources. And lastly he let the man go.

And this is how God forgives us. I remember thinking during the sermon...that I sometimes forget what it actually means to be forgiven. "He paid a debt he did not owe. I owe a debt I could not pay...I needed someone to wash my sins away." That God has canceled my debt.

What is due God that I cannot pay him? Perfect submission. Perfect gratitude. Perfect honor. Perfect will. Perfect love. But God paid the debt through Christ. Christ, in his perfect submission and perfect gratitude and perfect honor and perfect will and perfect love, offered up what I owed but what I could not pay, and was sacrificed. He died and suffered the wrath of God. He paid for my debt so that I wouldn't have to.

A concept that is simple enough but so easily forgotten. A concept that can be known without being known.

I prayed that God would help me really understand his forgiveness, so that I could truly learn how to forgive others. And today, God answered my prayer.

We have been needing to pay a particular amount of money to a particular person who will remain unnamed but is kinda like a doctor but isn't. It was a big bill. So big that I needed to wait until some money from Mr. IRS came in. It did. I called this office today to request the final amount of the bill, and I was told that we owed nothing. That the person we owed canceled the debt. That the amount was written off as a doctor's expense. That we were free of the debt. She reiterated, quietly but weighing her words slowly and deliberately. I needed to pay nothing.

This man to whom I owed money took the debt upon himself and canceled it. He understood us. He related to us. His heart went out to us. And he let us go.

God wasted no time in granting my request. My understanding of His forgiveness was of the greatest importance to Him, to grasp how deep and how wide His love for me is. And He used a fellow Christian forgiving me my debt, to show me His love. And He's hoping and waiting for me to do the same to another soul in need of forgiveness, so that they may not only see, but truly feel, the love of God.

V and her Vision Board

My friend, we'll call her "V", keeps telling me to make a "vision board." She even bought me the materials: a white poster board. That's it. A plain white poster board. And on this poster board, my assignment is to cut pictures out of magazines and paste them onto the poster board, write words, what-EVer, she says, to remind you of your goals. But not just my goals, she says. My dreams. Then she says I am to put the vision board where I can see it every day so that every day I will have in plain sight what I'm going for, reaching for, dreaming of, hoping for. Even if it's crazy.

The reason, she says, is because you're more likely to actually DO those things if you see them in front of you. Literally.

I believe her. I think it's brilliant. I love the idea.

But I can't get myself to make the darn vision board.

Why is that? Why can't I put my dreams down on paper so they're out there for the whole world (really it would be seen by only me and the hubs but it feels like the whole world) to see? It's either that I don't have any dreams, or that I don't care about them, that I'm ashamed of them, or that I'm afraid to put them down on paper because that makes them real, concrete, perhaps laughable, and extremely vulnerable.

Well it's not because I don't have any.

It's definitely not because I don't care about them, because why would I go to Kentucky for 11 weeks if I didn't care about acting? Why would I make records and go on tour if I didn't care about singing? Why would I make a fool of myself in dance class if I didn't care about dancing?

It's not that I'm ashamed of them because... am I ashamed of them? Why would I be ashamed of them? I'm not hoping for shameful things. Why would I be ashamed of something that isn't shameful?

I could definitely be afraid of them.

Why are people ashamed of their dreams?

The best answer I can come up with is that we are ashamed of what it takes to accomplish the dreams. We are ashamed of what we think will be necessary behavior to accomplish our dreams. We think "going for it" is living for ourselves, rather than living for God. We think "going for it" means being self-centered and selfish. We think profession should be in our lives only to make money to support our families and buy things and store the rest away for rainy days and college funds and retirement.

We also think dreams mean really really big things, when they don't necessarily have to be. Although they might be.

The thing is, we have a choice as to how we pursue our hopes and dreams. I had a choice to wait for the perfect man to marry. My dream came true. I could have stopped trusting that God would provide, and I could have sold out and married someone I didn't love, or someone who didn't love me. We have the opportunity, for Christians the ability, to choose God every day. I have a choice to be selfish with my life whether I'm pursuing a dream or not. I have a choice to love God and love my neighbor every single day, whether or not I'm looking at a vision board. Striving for a desired profession isn't a sin, it's how I strive for that goal that determines holiness.

Yet for some reason the artist is told, if you're not "singing for God" you shouldn't sing. If you're not "writing songs for God" you shouldn't write. If you're not "making films for God" you shouldn't make films. Yet the accountant doesn't "punch numbers for God" and that's OK. The engineer doesn't "drill oil wells for God" and he's smiled upon. The dentist doesn't "fill cavities for God" and he's a hero.

So that's it, then. I won't make my vision board because I've been told that "singing for God" makes singing OK? If I put "Broadway" on my vision board, then I'm endangering my soul.

And putting "Broadway" on my vision board sure looks laughable. I mean, that looks pretty dumb. Who really believes they can be on Broadway.

Uh...that would be...the folks on Broadway.

And what happens if I don't make it to Broadway? Then everyone laughs at me.

Nope. They don't. They say, well - good going there, Fancy. It was a fun ride.

And the folks that do anything different, like the folks that secretly rejoice if I don't succeed, are jerks. Plain and simple.

And the folks that secretly hope I don't succeed now while I'm trying? Well,....that sucks. For me and for them. For me because I sure could use all the encouragement I can get. And for them because they're missing out on a fun ride. And for the record, making a living as an actor or a singer doesn't have to mean Broadway. But wow, it sure is a fantastic goal, right?

So I'm making that vision board. Right when I get back from Kentucky, I'm making it.

On Lists and Galoshes

Nothing I had planned to do today got done, not counting the big stuff. Big stuff equals things other people count on me doing. Other stuff, the "nothing," equals the stuff on my to-do list, the stuff I count on me doing. Not a one of those things got done today.

I live off of to-do lists. I love them. Sometimes the only way I can go to sleep at night is to make a to-do list for tomorrow. The worry exits my brain, runs down my arm, through my hand, out my fingers, into the pen, and enters the ink that is transferred to my paper, and wah-la, I can sleep. I inherited that trait from my dad. He writes a to-do list on a little sticky note before he goes to bed every night and sticks it to his bathroom mirror. I know this because when I was little, and then not so little, I saw a sticky note on his mirror almost every day while he was at work.

Getting nothing done on my sticky note list means I can't cross anything off, which stresses me out. Especially when I have a cazillion and one things to do before leaving for Kentucky. I can't afford days where nothing is crossed off of my sticky list.

I managed to meet with a praise and worship group at 11 this morning at our apartment, then run over to the Upper East Side in the rain to "work" a birthday party where I danced with 9 year old girls and glittered their faces, ran back over to the West Side to babysit a 6 and 2 year old for a couple of hours where I played with them, bathed them, cooked for them, fed them, and cleaned up after them, ran back to my apartment to meet my husband so I could cook for him, feed him, clean up after him, and then went on a date with him.

We saw Prince Caspian. Loved it. Really really loved it.

So while I accomplished nothing on my to-do list I ran around like a crazy woman all day long. In the rain. In my galoshes. Which are pink with a multi-color criss cross pattern on them. And I like to call them galoshes rather than rain boots. When I play duck-duck-goose with the boys I babysit, I like to fake'em out by saying every word I can think of that starts with the hard sound of the letter "g" and galoshes nearly always ends up in the duck-duck-goose vocabulary. And it's nearly always followed by the 6-year-old, who waits in anticipation for the word "goose" to coincide with my hand patting his head, slumping and tilting his little blond head up at me, and through his smart spectacles inquiring, "What's galoshes?" And I say in between heads, without missing a beat of course because I'm quite skilled at the game, "They're rain boots."

"Goose!"

And we run.

And I ran all day long and got nothing done. It's alright. As long as I make the same list out for tomorrow I should be able to sleep just fine.

Summer Theater in Kentucky

Well folks, in a matter of weeks, I'm off to theater land again. Theater land nestled in the mountains of Kentucky. Yee haw.

I'll be away 11 weeks. The whole summer. Away from my charming city to live in a cabin in the hee-ills.

But don't fret, fancied friends. For two reasons. 1) Seth is going with me. The whole 11 weeks we'll be together in the hot burnin' sun, workin' our ever livin' arses off. He's the associate music director for the whole shin-dig. Now isn't that somethin'? When I auditioned for the job, they asked me to bring my guitar to the call back and play a tune or two. Absolutely, I said. But really what I meant was, absolutely, I'll have my husband bring my guitar because I ain't truckin' that thing around the city all day. And whadoyou know? Seth brought that ther' guitar with 'im to the call back and landed himsay'lf a JAWB!

2nd reason) We'll be havin' a blast! Three shows in rotating rep. That means we rehearse 1 show, perform it while rehearsing another, perform those two in rotation, while we rehearse a 3rd show, then perform all three shows in rotation for the rest of the summer season. Ai-ya-yai. Lots of work but lots of fun.

We're doing the following shows and I'll be playing the following roles.

The Wizard of Oz: Dorothy

Honky Tonk Angels: Darlene

A Chorus Line: Understudy (yikes, they haven't told me who I'm understudying, but I'm a bit nervous about it cuz they could make me swing 3 different tracks or something. I'm also worried because the dancing might kick my bleep!

I'm really, really excited about playing Dorothy, mostly because "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" is one of my favorite songs, and was played when Seth proposed (thanks to our pal Joey) and was also sung at our wedding (thanks to my lovely MOH Laura). And also because Judy Garland is one of my favorite singers. And also because it's a really fun show. And also because I get to wear the ruby slippers. Yesssss.

Honky Tonk Angels is a review of folk/country hits, told through 3 women's stories of leavin' home for Nashville, TN and following their dreams. It's growing on me, now that I've heard the music. Great music, and I get to play the gee-tar. Always fun. And sing songs like "Coal Miner's Daughter," "Ode to Billie Joe," (SUCH a cool song) and "Fancy," among loads of others. I think there's around 25 songs in the show.

And I've told you all I know about A Chorus Line so far.

The theater's called the Jenny Wiley Theater in Prestonsburg, KY. So if you haven't planned a summer vacation yet, why not Kentucky?

See schedule of shows here.

So I leave you with this, fancied friends, and hope that I can sing it half as well as she does.

Officially 29

My sweet man of a husband came home last Thursday, and we officially celebrated my 29th birthday together. So 29 I am. For sure I am. And ya know, the more I say it the cooler it sounds. It sounds more adult than 28. Maybe I just feel more adult than at 28. I probably feel more adult than at 28 because I'm almost THIRTY. If I'm not an adult by 30, I better re-think my life. See, now, even as I say that, there's a little voice inside of me saying, "Nooooo! You can never grow up. Neverrrr!"

Oh, the injustice of it all.

Ever wonder what age we'll eternally be in heaven? When we get our new bodies. Like, will we be forever and always the age we were at death? Or will we be the age of the best year of our lives when years mattered? Or will we be the age when we looked the very best, but we'll look even better? Vain thoughts of a 29 year old.

Maybe we get to pick. Maybe we get to say....OK, God, I pick..ummm...32. Remember, God? I looked GOOD at 32.

Hey, it could work.

Eckhart's New Earth (Part II)

I'm becoming prone to making a statement in one post, and then recanting it in a later post. The cause being one of two reasons. #1) I speak too soon. #2) I allow myself the freedom of changing my mind. The latter is the better habit of the two. The habit of keeping an open mind, within boundaries of faith and reason, is a habit I choose to foster and hope to keep.

I said in an earlier post that Part II would be about why Eckhart Tolle's novel, "A New Earth," is not worth reading. I had previously bought the book and after reading the first chapter, formed that opinion. However, in order to respectfully and properly respond to the book, I needed to read more. I did read more, a majority of the book. For the sake of time, I skimmed parts of it. After doing so, I've decided to give it a good slow read, that in ways it actually is worth reading, when viewed through the correct lens with the awareness that my core beliefs will differ from the author's.

This book should be read with caution, but has the potential to, in fact, aid the Christian in the working out of one's salvation.

It's not surprising, actually. That the book might be beneficial is not surprising. Eckhart Tolle acts as a philosopher, observing humanity in its being, function, and purpose. He uses spiritual language to do so, quoting Jesus more often than any other spiritual teacher. He never misquotes Jesus. Misinterprets, yes. But some of the language is the same and some of the lessons are the same. Which I feel supports the truth that there is a Supreme Being, a God, who is observed and noticeable by all of humanity. By the very essence of humanity as a race, we see God. The major religions all have a similar purpose. Each one sees the dysfunction in our race and tries to alleviate it and renew humanity, individually and as a whole. Christianity is unique in that its founding prophet, teacher, leader claimed to be God. Ultimately, we believe that Jesus Christ, the second person of the divine Trinity, God himself, became man. God took on the nature of man and so redeemed mankind, making the way once again possible for direct union with God.

Ego: that is how Tolle describes the dysfunction of humanity - the thoughts and ideas associated with "I" that lead to false personal identification. This false personal identification is a consciousness which most commonly defines itself through possessions: what I have, what belongs to me, what I want. But it is also the idea that "I" is just that, an idea. The word "I" is a very small word for such a complex individual, and we tend to define our "I" by things, roles, our bodies. The ego displays itself in opinions, resentments, the need to be right, successes and failures, comparison, posturing, greed, the need for power, to name a few... Sounds like what we Christians like to call Pride. This idea is the basis for the majority of the book, and it makes sense to me. I see it. I understand it. Seeing this can help me in my life.

So what does Tolle see as the solution to this dysfunction? Awakening. Awakening to the inner being underneath the ego and then fusing it to your outer purpose, or in other words, responding to the world around you with the new consciousness of your inner being. Yes, in ways this idea can help me. But it doesn't get to the bottom of the problem, and that is: how will the dysfunction be eliminated completely? Obviously the need is within us to eliminate the dysfunction entirely. It will not be eliminated completely by this spirituality alone.

Tolle states that his book is a book on spirituality, which can be molded into any person's choice of religion. He believes one can separate religion and spirituality. I personally, don't see how the two things can be separated, for to ask oneself questions about one's spirit will ultimately lead to questions about that spirit's creator. Tolle goes so far as to discourage religion, saying it is a form of man's ego, a system of doctrine, that leads to ideologies which cause war and dissent. In fact, Tolle likes Jesus very much. However, he dislikes Christianity. He says the following of spiritual teachers, such as Jesus, and then further of religion:

"Those rare individuals then spoke to their contemporaries. They spoke of sin, of suffering, of delusion... They then pointed to the possibility of awakening from the collective nightmare of "normal" human existence. They showed the way. The world was not yet ready for them, and yet they were a vital and necessary part of human awakening... Their teachings, although both simple and powerful, became distorted and misinterpreted, in some cases even as they were recorded in writing by their disciples. Over the centuries, many things were added that had nothing to do with the original teachings, but were reflections of a fundamental misunderstanding... And so religions, to a large extent, became divisive rather than unifying forces... They brought more violence and hatred... They became ideologies, belief systems people could identify with and so use them to enhance their false sense of self. Through them, they could make themselves "right" and others "wrong" and thus define their identity through their enemies, the "other," the "nonbelievers" or "wrong believers."

Incorrect. False. A relative truth formed from his own perspective.

Christianity teaches that truth is handed down from a Supreme perspective. Not our own. That's what's missing in all of this. If spirituality can exist apart from a system of beliefs, specifically apart from Christianity, then it will be a spirituality whose effectiveness of the renewal of man is limited. A spirituality derived from man himself cannot correct his own dysfunction because he is limited by that very dysfunction. We must be given a renewed spirit from an outside Source and an outside perspective. And it's given to us by the Incarnation. By God becoming man, taking on death, and presenting the new man, the new resurrected awakened man, before God for eternity as a Living Sacrifice. This is what Christ meant by "the way." It is "the way" because it is God's way.

Christianity requires an element of spirituality that Tolle does not mention: Faith. We must accept Faith. We must awaken to it. We must keep it. The faith to believe what God has said is True.

While Running with Imogen

Yesterday, with my new running shoes on, Imogen Heap blaring through my Ipod, I headed downstairs to walk-slash-run the park. ('Walk" being the operative word.) On the way down the stairs, I ran into the older man who lives right below us. We greeted each other. I removed one ear bud just in case he was in a talkative mood. He was.

He commented on what a nice day it was. He had just finished the 5 mile trail. Oh yeah? I said. I'm just about to do that myself. With an expression that denoted pain and exhaustion, he said something in return that ended with what sounded like the words: "at the end there." I chuckled, because at the very time of his response, Imogen kicked it up a notch in my left ear, and I had no idea what he said or what to say back to him. So I chuckled.

He says, No I'm serious! I laugh even louder as I head down the stairs. Good to see you! I say. Yeah, he says grumpily. As I stepped out of my building I realized he might possibly have said something like, "I fell to the ground and the ambulance came and they had to revive me at the end there." Or...."I collapsed from heat exhaustion at the end there." Or...."I accidentally ran into a cyclist and broke his neck at the end there." Or...."You know I live below you and you're a really loud walker and I wish you'd walk more quietly up there." It occurred to me that he might consider me a very evil person now.

It was a crowded day at the park. Not only were the meadows jammed with picnic-ers, the trail was jammed with runners and walkers and cyclists. Occasionally, I had to use quick thinking logic to maneuver through and avoid injury. At one point on the trail, a point where I was running down hill and uncontrollably gaining speed, I came upon two very slow walkers, strolling along on that beautiful afternoon. I couldn't run around them to the right due to the two cyclists approaching me from behind on my right. I edged toward the left curb to pass the dawdlers, and as I approached, at the very last minute, the couple (the girl being closest to the left curb) dawdled to the left, blocking my way. I had no choice. I had to do it.

"On your left." is what I meant to say, loud enough but calmly enough. Due to the downhill-ness and Imogen Heap blaring in my ears, and the fact that I'm in awful shape, what came out was,

"ON YOUR LEFT!!!"

The girl jumped a mile in the air, quickly stepped to the right, stopped, and then cringed her shoulders to her ears, waiting to be trampled flat.

I didn't run her over.

And later, the WALK-slash-run in me satisfied, I waited at the crosswalk to head home. A taxi pulled up, out of which a forty-something man in a suit appeared carrying two duffle bags. Imogen was finished blaring in my ears. This time I heard plainly.

"Wow, it's a gorgeous day!" he said, to my surprise, addressing me.

I attempted a polite chuckle to acknowledge the pretty day. (Apparently, I chuckle when I don't know what to say.) A cyclist sped toward us. I guess the forty-something man knew the cyclist and addressed him by name.

"George, it's so beautiful here!"

The taxi sped away but the forty-something man in the suit stood and looked at me.

"At my place in Southampton it was raining cats and dogs!"

I gave him a sarcastic smile through pursed lips that said, "You don't impress me. Get over yourself," looked away and crossed the street as fast as I could.

Very eventful day in the park.

Oprah's and Eckhart's New Earth

I thought the last post about Oprah would be the last. I lied unknowingly, but I feel the need for one more post on this subject, and then onto the Catholic Church.

First let me explain what I've decided my response to Oprah should be. I feel it important to think on because already, I've had a Christian woman ask me if I think Eckhart Tolle's book(s) would be beneficial to her life and should she read them. If I remember correctly, Oprah claims her web class membership is in the millions. And furthermore, Oprah has been, to an extent, open about her beliefs to the public, not only open but she tends to share and teach others what she learns. It's our responsibility as Christians to listen, consider, and compare what she shares to what we believe. The problem is, I'm not sure we're very good at listening and considering. What I think we're good at is reacting. Which is very different and usually gets us into trouble.

The non-believing world often sees Christians as close-minded, judgmental, arrogant, dogmatic, and mean-spirited. Some of those accusations we won't ever be able to deny. We are dogmatic. To an extent, we have to be. We do have to exercise judgment and discernment as necessary in defending our faith. But I don't believe we have to be close-minded to do it. I believe we can consider with an open mind the ideas of someone who believes differently. Open-minded doesn't mean foolish. It means being able to listen, consider, understand. We certainly don't have to be arrogant or mean-spirited. When we are presented with views that differ from ours, we don't have to scream and pout and make a fuss. We need to be rational and level-headed. We don't need to be afraid of a differing belief. And we certainly don't need to exclude any person from our lives just because they believe differently than we do.

I don't care one way or another if a Christian watches Oprah or not. It's up to the individual. I like her show. I'll keep watching it.

Oprah calls herself a free-thinking Christian. She believes there are many ways to finding God. To me that sounds as if she believes there are many ways of salvation, and as Christians we believe Christ is the only way of salvation. To say you believe in Christ (to call yourself a Christian) but also believe in multiple ways to God tells me you're confused about what Christianity actually teaches. It tells me you're confused about what the Incarnation and the Son of God's sacrifice actually means. To me, she seems like a powerful woman searching for truth. I sincerely hope she finds it. If I were her, I'd be careful about searching in front of the whole world, and I think one day she might be held accountable for that.... But because she does claim to be a Christian, I can't go any further in discerning what her beliefs are in their totality until we sit down to coffee and talk. Maybe one day. Who knows?

I had actually planned on relaying some of Eckhart Tolle's novel. Why I think his book is not worth reading. Didn't get to it. There might have to be a Part II here.

Chick Flick Alert

Going to see this movie with my girlfriend in about 10 minutes.



And I bought this double feature at Dwayne Reade for 10 bucks. These 2 movies included:




I bought it BECAUSE it said $7.50 off a viewing of Made of Honor at participating locations, only to discover that my theater is not a participating location.

Oh well. I'm still glad I bought the movies.

I am so watching both of them, and then probably Dirty Dancing and Cinderella Man, before my husband gets home.

Love you, hon! But I need a break from LOTR and the Matrix...and Kill Bill...and Star Wars...and Indiana Jones...