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...

Birthday Fun and More

Mom and I had a great time in the city. We saw Gypsy with Patti LuPone Saturday night. Wow, what an actress. I love the moments when I'm at the theater and I get a chill up my spine. More like a chill up the neck and behind the ears and then...gone. I wait for that moment. It's when the actor and the music, or the set, or the lights, come together at just the right moment, and this indescribable...thing...happens. What you see is real. Not imaginary, but real. Real life. But better. More powerful. Magic. Patti LuPone made magic on Saturday night.

We had tea at Alice's Teacup. The best scones around. Not me and Patti LuPone. Me and my mom.

We had dinner at Taboon, where my mom couldn't help but tell the waiter it was my birthday, and the waiter couldn't help but put a candle on our chocolate lava cake but to my relief, refrained from singing, and the table next to us couldn't help but start singing anyway, and then the whole restaurant was singing, and then my mom yelled out, "Her name's Amber!"..."Happy BIRthday dear...AMBER!" they all sang, and I couldn't help but bury my face in my hands, and then the old man with shoulder length grey hair came to our table and toasted my youth and my mom for spending it with me, said "his poetry tonight was my youth," (woah - pretty deep stuff there), then he couldn't help but assure me youth doesn't last. Bright smiles. Big toast. Thank you's.

Youth doesn't last.

Thank you for reminding me, dear old man.

I joke about it, but really, is that a necessary reminder?

We shopped at the local thrift stores. I'm telling you, you can score big in these parts.

I got a new pair of running shoes (not at the thrift stores but at the DSW in Union Square) so I no longer have an excuse for not running the park. Ugh. I'm doing it, but I hate running. I'd much rather take a dance class, but wow, it's expensive. My last pair of running shoes lasted me about 8 years. No lie! Obviously, I didn't run in them much.

We killed a roach the size of my big toe - with Pledge and Seth's shoe. The only roach I've EVER seen in this apartment. With Pledge because I didn't have any Raid and it was the quickest solution. It worked! Slowed him down enough for mom to smash him with Seth's shoe while I stood on the couch barefoot. I don't smush roaches. I just can't. I hate that crackling noise when the shoe hits at just the right place.

And my stairwell smells like an animal crawled up the wall somewhere and died. Either that or someone in one of these apartment's is dead and nobody knows it. Creepy. The smell is disgusting. Not in my apartment, thank God, but definitely in the stairwell.

Gross.

Thanks Mom, for a fun-filled (roach and all) birthday weekend. Love you.

29 Years Old

My birthday's tomorrow.

29 years old.

I think I'd rather turn 30.

29 seems blah.

Very depressing.

My mom's here for my birthday, so I'm a bit distracted from the blogosphere, which is always nice once and a while.

Seth's out of town for my birthday, but I'm TOTALLY fine with that because it actually means I can stay 28 for a few days longer. I don't REALLY turn 29 until I celebrate with him.

I made that rule up.

I like it.

American Idol: Memories

OK, as a singer and a theater lover, I have strong feelings about this performance. I'm wondering, before I smear my opinions all over the place, what you thought (or think). Both Randy and Simon didn't like it. Paula, of course, did. You all know the song. Barbara Streisand. Cats. Andrew Lloyd Webber. Whether you watched the show on Tuesday night or not, I'd love to know if you like what you hear or not, and why. Then I'll smear my opinion all over the place. While certainly respecting yours. Cool? Here it is.

Positive Post Tuesday - My friend, Audrey

I have a friend whose name is Audrey. Audrey's 10. Audrey played Chip in the production I was in of Beauty and the Beast in Houston. She's currently singing as a member of the children's chorus in La Boheme at Houston Grand Opera. A professional singer-actress at the age of 10. Wow!

Audrey is my email buddy. She calls it BIFF: Best Internet Friends Forever. She keeps me posted on her life. What's going on at school and what's going on with her "career." She's got boys that won't leave her alone at school, and it really annoys her. I don't blame her or the boys. She's a very pretty girl. And boys get sort of stupid when it comes to pretty girls. But I agree with Audrey. They should leave her alone.

The first time I saw Audrey on stage, she was 7, I think. In Oliver. She was the smallest little tyke up there, but she absolutely glowed. I couldn't stop watching her. She was practically trampled by the other, bigger kids on stage who were dancing like theater-crazed maniacs all around her. But Audrey's smile and the twinkle in her eye were mesmerizing. I knew right then that the stage was where she belonged.

I admire Audrey for that twinkle in her eye. It's there off stage, too. She has the ability to look at every circumstance like it's a gift, and she's just glad she's a part of it. She takes nothing for granted, but delights in the smallest bits of what life offers.

I admire Audrey for her obedience to Christ, and her faith in prayer. When one certain boy wouldn't stop bothering her at school, Audrey (though, of course, very frustrated and annoyed) prayed for him. She said that God would fix him, but that God should fix her first so that she could have the right attitude to pray for him.

Here's what Audrey said after that:

"It is very amazing what miracles God can do. I feel very fortunate to have a great God like I do."

I hope for the faith, love, and fortitude that I see in Audrey. I hope for that ever-so-bright, fear-be-afraid, twinkle in my eye, that unknowingly dares the dead to rise, awakens the worried to a Father's presence, and demands the fearful to face the unknown.

Love ya, girl!

BIFF

Back to Catholicism

I'm about ready to get back to those Catholic blogs-slash-discussions-slash-questions-slash-readings.

Ya know, the Pope being in town and all.

I thought his visit was extremely positive. I sure like that guy. I admit, I was sad to see him board his plane and leave the United States of America. I even got a little teary eyed. Which I thought strange, but nevertheless, true. I don't know why I got teary eyed. Maybe hormones? Or maybe it was the look on his face and the way he smiled at people. He seems so stone cold until he smiles and then there's such a light and joy and gentleness and humility.

Pope Benedict had a little something to say about illusion. I thought it relevant to our recent discussion and my recent thoughts. Here it is in his address to the U.S. Bishops:

"For an affluent society, a further obstacle to an encounter with the living God lies in the subtle influence of materialism, which can all too easily focus the attention on the hundredfold, which God promises now in this time, at the expense of the eternal life which he promises in the age to come (cf. Mk 10:30). People today need to be reminded of the ultimate purpose of their lives. They need to recognize that implanted within them is a deep thirst for God. They need to be given opportunities to drink from the wells of his infinite love. It is easy to be entranced by the almost unlimited possibilities that science and technology place before us; it is easy to make the mistake of thinking we can obtain by our own efforts the fulfillment of our deepest needs. This is an illusion. Without God, who alone bestows upon us what we by ourselves cannot attain (cf. Spe Salvi, 31), our lives are ultimately empty. People need to be constantly reminded to cultivate a relationship with him who came that we might have life in abundance (cf. Jn 10:10). The goal of all our pastoral and catechetical work, the object of our preaching, and the focus of our sacramental ministry should be to help people establish and nurture that living relationship with “Christ Jesus, our hope” (1 Tim 1:1)."

Read the entire speech here.

Read about his 6 day visit here.

If you're interested in past Catholic discussions on this blog, go here first.  Then here.  Then here.  Then here.  And lastly, here, which is ironic because the title of that one is "Beginnings."  Ahhhh well.  All in good time.

Question

Is success an illusion?

(I'm really asking.)

I said in an earlier post that success was an illusion. I'm not sure that's right.

Do you think success is an illusion?

Letter to the Man One Floor Higher

Dear Man Who Lives Above Us,

How do you do? My name's FancyPants. How are you liking your place up there? Too bad you don't have a deck like us. But I bet your place is great. We love ours.

I hope you're not bothered by our late night movie watching habit. We're night owls, you see. We're trying to be careful and keep the volume down. It's the least we can do. Don't you agree?

If I could make a request, Man Who Lives Above Us. We have a vent in our bathroom that leads to outside. I'm sure it's some city rule or something. But you see, somehow, because of that vent, I can hear you when you're in your bathroom. I hear when you turn your shower on. I hear when you flush your toilet. I hear when you yell at your wife or friend or partner or whoever. But most disturbing to me,

I hear you fart. And it really grosses me out.

So do you think you could fart a little quieter? I mean, it's the least you could do. Don't you agree?

Thank you, Man Who Lives Above Us, for understanding. Best of luck in this crazy city we call home.

Sincerely,

FancyPants

Behind the Black and White Dress

If I were to be completely honest with you, I would tell you how, when I was at that fancy shmancy party on Saturday night, I hated walking around by myself. That I felt ridiculous and out of place. That I kept noting how my dress seemed a little tighter, and kept wondering if my purse was too big. It didn't match my outfit.

How I wanted to be the one on that stage, and how when I watched Kristen, a looming sense of doom crept deeper and deeper within my spirit. Thoughts like, I'll never get there. I'm not that good. Am I that good? How did she get there?

I might seem really bad to you, if I tell you all of this. But then again, to some Christians, I was already really bad because, every once and a while, I enjoy a good martini.

And then, some of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Some of you know what it's like to walk amongst pictures of what you're not, and have *something* tell you that you don't have it and won't get it. Something tell you, lie to you, that it will make you happy. Lies of comparison and envy.

So maybe by me saying all of this we can help each other realize that comparison bites and should be thrown straight to hell. That success is an illusion, that money doesn't make us happy.

Some people believe that pursuing a dream is selfish, self-fulfilling, self-pleasing, especially if this dream is found *in* the world. When in fact, that pursuit requires perpetual self denial, diligent cross bearing, insistent battle with temptation. Specific temptation tailored just perfectly for the targeted soul, exposed and vulnerable. Things are not always what they seem.

P.S. To my good friend, Kathy, if you're reading, please don't stop inviting me when you get to do Kristen's hair. These thoughts in this post are merely one side of the coin. I am honored I was your guest and next time, I'm making myself talk to Aaron Sorkin.

Schmooze City

Well, fancied friends, I have once and for all been introduced to High Class USA. A night of shmooze is what I attended last night. All for a good cause, mind you. But shmooze, none the less.

My friend invited me as a guest to a benefit for ACD research: a cocktail party with hor d’oeuvers and specialty drinks, a silent and live auction, after party lounge with champagne and desert, and drum roll please, a concert by Kristen Chenoweth. You can imagine my glee when my friend texted me and asked me to attend. Kristen Chenoweth?!?! Oh boy. My friend (who does my hair) was doing Kristen's hair for the event. So I texted back Yes! and she said they'd email me an invitation.

I never received an email invitation, so yesterday I called my friend to get the details and to tell her I didn't receive the invitation. She said they'd send it, but she didn't really believe that they would. Lo and behold, at around 4 PM, I checked my email and what did I find? An invitation attached to an email which read,

Our apologies Amber. We thought you had this information..

You are confirmed for 1 seat for the show. The attached document will give you any information you need. Otherise, please email....

Thanks! We look forward to seeing you tonight!

...Well! Thank you! I graciously accept your apology! I look forward to seeing you tonight, whoever you might be.

And then I realized. I don't really know what ACD is, and if I'm attending a benefit for ACD research I better know what it is, right? So I googled, "What is ACD?" , and here's what I found:

"ACD stands for Automatic Call Distribution. It is a service that enables a call to be placed on hold until an employee is available to take the call."

Surely not. Surely I'm not attending a benefit for telephone technology? So I looked again and found this:

"What is a CD? We are all familiar with a CD, but what exactly is it?"

Hmmm. Not very helpful.

The invitation also said "Broadway concert cocktail attire a must." Ohhhh-kaaaay. Broadway cocktail? What the heck does that mean? I asked my friend, and she didn't know either. I searched my closet and found a black and white dress, or I could go with a red dress.... Geesh. Which one should it be? Seth finally said the red dress might look like I was trying real hard to draw attention to myself, so I went with the black and white dress. It was an excellent choice. I would have looked like the last burning flame amongst the ashes in that red dress. Thank God I didn't wear it.

My friend had to be at the benefit hours early to get Kristin ready, so I arrived alone. In fact, I spent a good bit of the evening alone surrounded by very shmoozy people. I didn't know what to do, except just walk around or stand at the bar. Once I perused the silent auction table and pretended like I had a lot of money. That was fun.... Once I sat next to a woman who looked nice and started talking to her. She was a doctor, and then I found out what ACD was. It's a respiratory disease that babies are born with. Their lungs don't operate properly, and they usually die within 2 months from suffocating.

OK, so not a telephone technology benefit. That was confirmed.

These people were at the party.

Actor Bradley Whitford
Writer/Producer Aaron Sorkin
I didn't talk to those guys.

Actor NiCole Robinson
I talked to her but I think I called her Amy. Dang it.

And finally, the lovely, Kristin Chenoweth.

Who is the epitome of effervescent joy on stage, and wow, what a singer.

I took a picture with Kristen and got her autograph. I told her she was lovely. She told me I looked lovely. I told her the story of how I met some of her relatives on a plane ride to Tulsa, OK. She said she had lots of relatives and had no idea who I was talking about.

I think we could be great friends.

Thank you, Kathy, for a wonderful night!

City Sights

Gray's Papaya, 37th and 8th Ave.

Oprah: For the last time!

I don't really know how to effectively blog on this subject because to give it the fairest listen possible, we'd be listening for HOURS. And I'm personally getting tired of talking about Oprah on this blog. For some reason it keeps happening. Maybe it's because I have more time on my hands these days, and to be honest, I enjoy her show.

Oprah is leading an online class on Eckhart Tolle's novel, A New Earth. I haven't read the book. I've watched about 45 minutes of the first class online at Oprah.com, to see what all the rigmarole is all about. For me it is a tiresome hour and a half, a little man saying what we already know in obscure but lofty language, giving his keys to spiritual awareness and growth, quoting Jesus as an inspired teacher but not much more than that.

Some of it seems like it could be helpful. Some of it seems very dangerous. I wanted to highlight one part, because I think Christian women (and men, but I know most of you men out there could give a rat's buttooee about Oprah) should be informed, and I also have a question. For women and men.

I'll give a summary of this question posed by a Catholic reader/viewer to Oprah, and then Oprah's answer. But you can listen to it here. Just click on Chapter One and then go to about 21 minutes into the video: (Please do go listen if you have the time.)

Kelly: I'm a Catholic. My husband is Catholic and we've decided to raise our children Catholic. Tolle's book, A New Earth, is opening my eyes to a new way of thinking and form of spirituality that doesn't align with the teaching of Christianity. How do you, Oprah, reconcile this spiritual teaching with your Christian beliefs?

Oprah: Because of my experiences at a Baptist Church in my twenties, I have since opened my mind about the absolute indescribable hugeness of that which we call God. In my journey I began to search for something other than doctrine. I believe Jesus came to show us a Christ consciousness...to show us the way it's done...to show us principals and laws to know that way...in my belief, even as a Christian, I don't believe Jesus came to start Christianity. I am a free thinking Christian and believe other paths lead to God than just Christianity.

Again, please listen to her actual response if you can.

First of all, what does that mean..."I don't believe Jesus came to start Christianity"....huh? I'm seriously asking what she might mean by that. Trying to understand where exactly she's coming from here. Christ consciousness. What do you think that means?

Jesus commands us not to judge one another. When Oprah calls herself a Christian, and then describes Christianity in such an unorthodox way, should a Christian warn others that's she's not a Christian, and is in fact, a false teacher? Is that casting judgement? Is she a false teacher? Is she a Christian? Do I have a right to decide whether or not she's a Christian? What is our Christian responsibility here? Where is the line between judgement and discernment?

I just wanted to eat my cookie.

Check it out.

Untitled

No words, no words, the poet says.
For viewing the visions in blurred form
leaves naught to the keys of inspired thought.
What verse can be made in this shadow, hazed light
When men are waiting, waiting, waiting
Through the near skeptic's eye,
Save only this breath of life and word
I am here.
I am Yours.

The Vampire Lestat

I'm reading The Vampire Lestat. Ever read it? I've never read a vampire novel before because, well, they're about vampires! I think I remember Amy saying she really likes vampire novels. My husband is into them. Really he's just into Anne Rice. But he loves any kind of vampire movie. Interview with the Vampire. Van Helsing. Bram Stroker's Dracula.

So we've had these Anne Rice books sitting on our shelf for a while.

Last week I took Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway to an audition to read while I waited...and waited...and waited... And man, was it BORING! I saw the movie, The Hours. It's supposed to be a modern take to this book. But geesh! I mean, reading the book is like decoding a puzzle, the sentences are so convoluted and complicated. And the big deal about Mrs. Dalloway is supposed to be that the author could find something worth telling in the normal going-about-it of one day. Then why tell it in such a complicated way?

I like Hawthorne. I like Steinbeck. I like Charlotte Bronte. I even like Dickens on a good day. They don't write like Hemingway or anything.

But the people around me in my audition room were so much more interesting than deciphering page 2 that I couldn't stop watching them. And people-watching in the audition room's gotta stop. I just get irritated.

So The Vampire Lestat, it is. And woah, am I liking it. It's good! (The drinking blood parts are pretty gross, but so far there hasn't been too much of that.) I'll let you know how it goes. I'm on Part II.

Positive Post Tuesday: My husband

I try to avoid too much sap on the ole' blog here. Mostly because it's just kinda embarrassing, like blog PDA or something. But get ready for a sap explosion, because that's what you're about to get.

Today is Positive Post Tuesday. I'm choosing to lift up my husband.

He never ceases to amaze me. Seth is not one easily understood. A number of paradoxes coincide that make up his existence, and when I think I've got him figured out, I'm left scratching my head and wondering where "that" came from. A few examples come to mind:

When I married him I knew he was a creative genius. I knew he was the most inventive, interesting, and intriguing composer I had ever met, and I knew the songs he wrote were more beautiful and honest than anything I could remember. I had no idea he could write a novel, that he even wanted to write a novel. (Not really a paradox. More like a... surprise.) And now I know that in a matter of time he will be a published novelist. Because he's that good. I even have a hunch he'll be a famous novelist.

When I married him I knew he loved God. He could explain Romans 8 to me, and that's saying something. But I had no idea he could curse like a sailor...and somehow it doesn't sound vulgar.

When I married him I knew he was right-brained. Of course, at the time, I had no idea how many times I would find myself on a mission for his keys. But, he hates more than anything to be late.

It's hard to say why you love someone. I love my husband for the way his eyes light up at the mention of Star Wars. For his absolute delight in making a ham and cheese omelette. For the hope that is inside of him. Sometimes I think I love him because of how much he loves me. He has taught me what true love is. He is the reason I am singing, acting, dancing. He believes in me and allows me the chance. He believes in me more than I believe in myself. Without him, I would be less than what I am.

I thank God for bringing this man into my life, through whom I am eternally changed.

Who says?

Funny how there's a mold that every societal subgroup creates to which all in the group are expected to conform. Who creates it? How does it become what it is? Who says?

Someone once said that New York is the city of misfits.

I think it's true. And then again, it's not. A social class system permeates the island. The elite should do this and the poor should do that. The West Side's like this, and the East Side like that. A child should be raised this way, and eat this, and wear that. They should go to school here (says the Cat in the Hat.)

Before I pay further homage to Dr. Seuss, I'll stop there.

This city is full of people who don't fit many other places. But at the heart of the island, people are concerned with who's in and who's out. It's almost as if it's made up of three kinds of people. People who are "in," people who desperately want to be "in," and people who could care less about being "in," about rules and status and labels.

We belong to the third group. The misfits. The ones who don't care about being "in." But by saying it, we're fitting in. You know what? It feels really good to fit into that group.

Random Saturday Musings

I know I'm a little late in the game on this one, but I love hummus. I'm eating it constantly these days! I love it so much I have a little chant-like song I sing in my head when I eat it. It goes like this:

CHICK pea CHICK pea!
hummushummushummushummus
CHICK pea CHICK pea!
hummushummushummushummus
TAHINI!
Yeaaaaah TAHINI!

CHICK pea CHICK pea!
hummushummushummushummus...

And so forth and so on.

It's nice, huh?

Also, I said the word, "nifty," the other day, a word that's really fun to say, and this song from 5th grade popped into my head. Anyone ever sing this?

FIFty NIFty uNITEd states
From thirteen original COLonies.
FIFty NIFty stars in the flag
That billOW so beautifully in the breeze.

ALABAMA! ALASKA ARIZONA ARKANSAS!...

And all through the fifty states in alphabetical order, but I stop after Arkansas cuz I can't remember which ones are next. Are there even any states that start with a B? is what runs through my head. Then I drop it cuz that's way too much thinking for a reminiscent 5th grade song. The important thing is that when you sing it you must sing it with such gusto and excitement as when you were 11.

Then I was telling Seth it was hot in our apartment, so I opened the window (a real great thing about New York, you just open a window! Until July/ August. I hear it's unbearable and that's when you kick the window A/C into gear). And as I opened the window I remembered a song from 6th grade choir. Yeah, I was a choir nerd. Totally and absolutely and I'm proud of it.

All I remember is the last line:

It is HOT it is HOT it is very very HOT
AND YET I SHIVAH!

"Shiv-ah" being the pronunciation 6th graders sing for "shiver." It was a weird song.

I'm about to eat homemade oatmeal. Not homemade by me, of course, cuz I hardly ever cook anything. Homemade by my husband who has a kickA recipe for apple-cinnamon oatmeal. It's REALLY good. Then we're going for a walk in Central Park with our friend a block over. It's a GORGEOUS day here and I'll kill myself if I stay inside.

Have a fantastic day.

The Lord's Prayer: 2 Yr Old Style

HT: Super Churchlady


Now that's worship right there.

Is This Home

OK.

Some have asked for this kind of thing before. And since Roy (Lumierre, whose pictures I stole and previously posted) kindly posted the link down in one of the comment sections, I'll give it to you here.

DISCLAIMER 1: Live direct feeds really bite. That's when what you sing into the microphone goes directly into a recording, without reverb OR balance with the orchestra OR help from the house acoustics, and then without the chance to redo the bad notes. =-) It's a really dry, flat sound. AND every tiny breath, out of tune note, pop, or weird thing that happens to your voice is amplified. Here, since the keyboard strings are direct as well, you get alot of that without hearing the full orchestra, which was really dang good and directed by our friend, Rick Spitz. End recorded product: Me = really dang loud. Orchestra = not loud enough.

DISCLAIMER 2: Stage productions on camera never capture the true essence of the performance, in my opinion, and in my husband's opinion, who watched the show all three nights, God bless'im.

DISCLAIMER 3: This is about an 8 1/2 minute clip, just so you know. The song's in the middle.

So that out of the way, here's me as Belle singing, "Is This Home," from Beauty and the Beast.

It's Big Give, NOT Big Giveaway

Derr.

Not only was I wrong about the name of this show, I think I might have been wrong about the show, period.

I watched it again tonight. Each contestant had 24 hours to give away $100,000. They could give up to $500 per person and up to $10,000 per location. The challenge was to give away all $100,000 before the 24 hours were up, as creatively as possible. But the gifts could not be the cash itself. It had to be in a different form. I watched one contestant buy groceries for the first 100 people to enter a grocery store in an impoverished area of town. I watched one contestant send 20 random people in a Target on a 5 minute shopping spree, up to $500 each. Turns out one of those 20 people was living in a homeless shelter at the time with his family. I saw one man buy truckloads of electronic equipment and hand deliver them to the doorsteps of impoverished neighborhoods. Another guy paid off outstanding debts on remaining cars in a mechanic shop. One woman bought $10,000 worth of bus and rail passes for a charity that helps foster girls make the transition from foster homes out into the real world.

I was moved by the reactions of the people who received. They raised their hands toward God. Genuine joy and thankfulness. A light of hope shown in their eyes. Something that said, it's been real hard but I know I can make it now. And at that point it wasn't about the contestants. It was about the people whose lives were changed. The contestants themselves weren't thinking of themselves but of the best way to help people in need. It was about the contestants searching within themselves to meet the challenge, not about competing with each other.

And as I sat on my couch watching others help, I thought, am I doing what I can? Not...I wish I had $100,000 to give away. Just...to help meet a need. To just open my eyes, look around me, and give. Personally. Purposefully. If I wondered any further about the contestants, or Oprah, or Simon Cowell, I remembered my butt on the couch. And if I were to ask Jesus about them, he would ask why I was asking and tell me to worry about myself.

And I think that T.V. is one thing, and someone's personal life is another. That the purpose and workings of a T.V. show could be set apart, to an extent, from the purposes and workings of an individual life. Maybe. And that it doesn't really matter anyway. The point is the 8 yr old boy wrapped his arms around a stranger because his dad could pick the car up from the mechanic shop and take it home that day.

Happy Easter

Unnatural

It's not natural for a dog to poop on the pavement.

Just plain dadgum unnatural.

I hate walking by a dog taking a crap on the sidewalk in Manhattan.


HATE it.



They look horridly embarrassed: ears back, necks out, beady little eyes, glancing ashamedly at passer-bys. The dogs hate it, too! No grass or shrubs to hide their gross contorted excrementing bodies.

Ugh.

Gross, gross, gross.

The Big Giveaway

I like Oprah. I know there are a lot of members of the Christian community who don't like her and think she's New Age. I don't know if she's New Age. She says she's a Christian. I have to believe her.

I like the good she does for humanity. I like that she gives bookoos of her money away to help people. She changes people's lives. She raises awareness. She encourages action. I like that very much. I watch her show often. She has achieved the incredible, and she inspires me to move forward with my goals.

But I'm not sure I like her new show, The Big Giveaway. Something about competitive giving. It doesn't sit quite right in me. Something about giving for all America to see. Giving to win.

It's not only that Jesus' words keep running over in my head.

"1 Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. 2 So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. 3 But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." (Matthew 6:1-4)

Who knows how much money Oprah, personally, (not Oprah, the T.V. producer), gives away that nobody sees? I don't know. I can't, shouldn't, judge her life for what I see on T.V. I won't.

It was something she said today. And something Simon Cowell said today, on her show, that got me thinking.

Yesterday I heard a sermon by Tim Keller (here we go again...it's just too good, people!), and part of what he said was like this:

When Nicodemus came to Jesus that night, Jesus told him he must be born again to enter the kingdom of God. Meaning that, all those moral, outstanding, upstanding, deeds he did as a Pharisee (for he was a very good, kind Jew) meant nothing in regards to the salvation Jesus offered. Jesus said, that despite all of that, Nicodemus must be born again. A completely new life. Not a life born of flesh from the pain and suffering and blood of his mother in labor, but a life born of the Spirit...born from Jesus' pain and suffering blood of the cross. A life given to him, not something he could produce.

So what is sin, really? In all of Nicodemus' good lifestyle, what was it that kept him from the kingdom of God? It was, and is, man's completely self-centered idea of himself. Of his existence, his worth, his future, his meaning, his esteem. Jesus was saying that nothing Nicodemus did could excuse him from this state of sin. So when we do something good for the self-centered reason of being good, of winning points for the sake of righteousness, of thinking we are wonderful, of thinking we are more loved by God, better, SELF-righteous, we miss the mark. We misunderstand Christ. And we are not one step nearer to the kingdom of God. To God, himself. Because it's CHRIST'S sacrifice that saves us.

SO! Back to Oprah. Her guest today was Simon Cowell, the American Idol guru, and T.V./record producer. He talked about who would win this season. He showed off his new girl that won in Britain, and his ventriliquist that won America's Got Talent, and then he gave $165,000 to a family whose three year old daughter is receiving chemo and radiation for cancer. He wrote a check for $165,000 to pay off their mortgage. Here's the conversation that took place after he gave the money away, in more or less words:

Simon: I feel really good.

Oprah: Yes! Giving Makes You Feel Good!!

Simon: Yeah, I do. I feel really good.

Oprah: Giving Makes You Feel Good! That's the Point!

Simon: It took me forty something years to realize that and I credit you, Oprah, for bringing it to light.

Oprah: Me? When did you first figure it out?

Simon: Today. Today I can say: I'm a guardian angel now.

*****

Giving Makes You Feel Good. That's the point. I'm a guardian angel now.

That bothered me. It seems that the American idea of giving, as stated here on the Oprah show, is meant to give yourself a little boost. To esteem yourself. It's about what you get out of it. After all, doesn't the Bible say, give and it will be given unto you. You reap what you sow. Feeling good is natural, isn't it? Did Jesus feel good when he raised Lazarus from the dead? When he fed the multitudes and healed the sick? When he died on the cross? Or should it feel bad? Should it feel like bearing your cross? Like being crucified with Christ? Like a sacrifice?

Thoughts welcome.

Characters

Cast of Characters:

DAD - a logical, extremely smart yet quirky character, governed by reason and funny without trying to be.

MOM - sweet and innocent, yet wise and discerning. Loves to laugh. Likes to be silly. Particularly likes to laugh with me and Brother at Dad.

BROTHER - deep thinker, does randomly weird things on purpose. Likes to laugh. Likes to observe. Particularly likes to laugh with me and Mom at Dad.

BROTHER'S WIFE - deep thinker and seemingly quiet, but not really. Can eat a horse and never gain a pound.

SETH - my husband, creative and funny. Incredibly discerning. Sharp eyes and sharp wit.

ME - doesn't care to write descriptions of herself.

*****************
A conversation with my family at dinner. The family sits at a round table for 6 in the front corner of the restaurant.

ME: (to Brother's Wife) How can you eat all that and stay so thin?

BROTHER'S WIFE: I don't know! I'm sure it'll catch up with me someday.

DAD: (full from a great meal, leans back in his chair, looks at Mom and pats his belly. In a high falsetto, says) Hoo!

MOM: (Laughs and imitates him) Hoo! Ha ha! (looks at me sitting on her other side) Did you hear Dad? He just went "Hoo!" Charles, you sounded like Al Capone in that movie! (She laughs) You know that movie where he's driving that car and he's blind.

DAD: (perplexed) No.

ME: Al Capone? Mom, not Al Capone, it's Al.... (turns to Seth on her other side) Seth, Mom just said Al Capone played in that movie where's he's blind. But it's not Al Capone! It's Al....Al...what is it?

SETH: (dryly) Al Pacino

ME: Al Pacino! (turns to Mom) Al Pacino, Mom! Not Al Capone! (I laugh)

MOM: Al Pacino! Oh! (She laughs) What's that movie again, where he goes "Hoo!"?

ME: No, not "Hoo!" It's "Hoo-yah!"

MOM: Oh yeah. "Hoo-yah!" "Hoo-yah!"

ME: "Hoo-yah!"

MOM: What's the movie?

SETH: (shakes his head) It's "Hoo-AH"

ME: Oh! Oops. "Hoo-AH"

MOM: "Hoo-AH"

SETH: (again, dryly) Scent of a Woman. (turns to Brother and Brother's wife on his other side) Amber does that stuff all the time. Just the other day she was trying to call something "rinky dink" and she called it "dinky rinky." Ya know, a mix between "rinky dink" and "winky dinky."

(All laugh)

DAD: (to Mom) I know, Betty. When you said Al Capone I couldn't figure out what you were talking about. I thought, what did you just watch, The Fugitives?

(All confused)

SETH: (Looks at Dad, eyes squint, slight smile, slightly shakes his head) The Untouchables.

DAD: Oh, that's right, The Untouchables.

(All laugh, except Dad.)

ME: (laughing, to Seth) See where I get it?

(All at the table laugh harder...except Dad. He calmly watches every one laugh.)

SETH: (to Brother and Brother's Wife) Yeah. Like, a while back, we're at the airport in...where were we, Amber?

ME: I don't know. I don't remember. Atlanta or something.

SETH: We were flying Southwest into the airport and she says, "Yeah, I think this airport is a major hubbub." instead of "hub." She was trying to say it was a major Southwest Airlines hub.

(All at the table laugh...except Dad, who is a frequent Southwest Rapid Reward flyer, turns his head sharply to look at me and says, completely serious)

DAD: Atlanta? No, no.

Married to An A.D.D man

Yesterday morning, on the way out the door for an audition, my husband says to me,

Husband: Are we still into February?

Me: (surely he's not serious...) (I look at him for a brief moment before replying,) We're into March.

Husband: Really? March what?

Me: (oh my gosh, he's serious) March 14.

Husband: Really!!??

*******

I kid you not.

Birthdays

I was in a cab the other day, and I remembered this thing my best friends and I used to do. I had this group of friends in college...we sang together. Traveled the country together, actually, singing and selling our records. But we did more than sing together. We were all a part of each other's lives in this beautiful way, a way in which we could all make a difference to each other. We were a family, really. The "family" sort of extended outward, I guess you could say, and a bunch of people were brought together. I was remembering something we used to do for birthdays and wishing my actual family would have done this for my brother's birthday.

To celebrate birthdays, we used to get a bunch of people together at someone's apartment, have cake and ice cream or whatever. Then we'd pull up chairs into a cozy fashion of sorts and have a "time of affirmation" for the celebrated person. That person sat while everyone took turns saying something affirming about him/her. Something about his or her character, something that person had done, anything at all that encouraged that person in who he or she was. In that way we celebrated his or her life. We remembered how thankful we were that God had placed that life in ours. There were always a lot of laughs and a whole lot of tears. But it was the best present anyone could get. On your birthday you knew more than anything that you were loved.

I wish we would have done that for my brother this week. I look forward to making new friends here and carrying on the tradition.

Thanks, Brody, for Positive Post Tuesday. I may not be diligent enough to remember to join in, but thank you for celebrating the lives of those you love and encouraging others to do the same thing.

Thank you, Zagat

My brother's birthday is next week, but we celebrated Sunday, for the obvious reason that we're all together this week. (Which means, Mom and Dad, to be fair, all of you have to come again next month to celebrate my birthday. It's only fair.)

So because it was my brother's birthday, he got to choose the restaurant. Well, he got to choose the kind of restaurant. I was, naturally, in charge of what restaurant since I live here and like to plan. Here's the conversation between me and my brother.

Me: So where do you want to go eat tonight for your birthday?

Brother: Oh, we're doing that tonight?

Me: Yeah

Brother: I didn't know we were doing that tonight.

Me: Well...now you do. Tonight.

Me: So where do you want to go?

Brother: I don't know. I'll think about it and tell you later.

Me: OK

Later, on the phone

Me: So where do you want to go tonight?

Brother: Oh....I don't know, really.

Me: Well...what kind of food are you in the mood for?

Brother: Ummmm...I don't know.

Me: Italian, French, American, Mexican.....

Brother: Uh....I don't know, let me call you back.

Me: OK.

Later, again on the phone

Me: So, what do you think? What kind of food are you in the mood for?

Brother: I was thinking, like, Lebanese, Middle Eastern-ish, Israeli....

Me: .....

Brother: Mediteranean. Well, not really Mediteranean. More, Middle Eastern.

Me: ....

Brother: Ya know?

Me: Uh....like Greek?

Brother: No, not really Greek. More Lebanese. Middle Eastern.

Me: Lebanese. OK....huh....

*****

I think his wife and I looked for at least 45 minutes for the right place. It didn't help that neither of us knew what Lebanese or Middle Eastern food was like. BUT! Thanks to our trusty black Zagat book! and superb googling skills, his wife and I found just the place. Called Taboon. And WOW was it good. GOOD. Some of the best food I've eaten here. The most incredible freshly made bread with hummus...the most tasty falafel...a scrumptious beet salad....the most tender fall-off-the-bone rib meat topped with butternut squash over couscous....and a very refreshing Bellini, a perfect birthday dinner.

A surprising,...particular,...and perfect birthday dinner.

Late Night with Charlotte Bronte

Can't sleep again. And on the night we lose an hour! That's just great. And I'll be getting up somewhat early to go to St. Thomas with my brother and his wife. This isn't good. Well, God help me.

I just finished Jane Eyre. Ever read it? Oh, man, is it good. I finished it on the plane ride to Houston a few weeks ago. I cried like a baby. I'm pretty sure Charlotte Bronte is my new favorite writer. She writes a heroine of such a different nature, mysterious, hardly beautiful, frank, smart, strange. But not without passion. Filled with passion that leads her to abnormal or rather, inappropriate? (at least to the mid-19th century reader), reactions and circumstances. But not without faith, virtue. Not without love. But also not without reason. And the two are at battle within her. Just listen to this:

(Here Jane talks to herself of her feelings for Mr. Rochester)

"Listen, then, Jane Eyre, to your sentence: tomorrow, place the glass before you, and draw in chalk your own picture, faithfully; without softening one defect: omit no harsh line, smooth away no displeasing irregularity; write under it, 'Portrait of a Governess, disconnected, poor, and plain.'

Afterwards, take a piece of smooth ivory...take your palette, mix your freshest, finest, clearest tints; choose your most delicate camel-hair pencils; delineate carefully the loveliest face you can imagine; paint it in your softest shades and sweetest hues, according to the description given by Mrs. Fairfax of Blanche Ingram: remember raven ringlets, the oriental eye....No sentiment! No regret! I will endure only sense and resolution.... Omit neither diamond ring nor gold bracelet...call it 'Blanche, an accomplished lady of rank.'

Whenever, in future, you should chance to fancy Mr. Rochester thinks well of you, take out these two pictures and compare them; say, 'Mr. Rochester might probably win that noble lady's love, if he chose to strive for it; is it likely he would waste a serious thought on this indigent and insignificant plebiean?"

Charlotte Bronte so clearly and magnificently paints the inside of this woman's soul. Her yearning heart's desire for what she feels she cannot and will not have, and her battle to reason herself away from unrequited love.

But Jane is not a sad character. She is strong. Such will power. Such grace!

Here Jane meets a gypsy...a fortune teller, of whom she has no faith:

"Well, and you want your fortune told?' she (the fortune teller) said in a voice as decided as her glance, as harsh as her features.

"I don't care about it, mother; you may please yourself; but I ought to warn you, I have no faith."

"It's like your impudence to say so; I expected it of you; I heard it in your step as you crossed the threshold."

"Did you: You've a quick ear."

"I have; and a quick eye, and a quick brain."

"You need them all in your trade."

"I do; especially when I 've customers like you to deal with. Why don't you tremble?"

"I'm not cold."

"Why don't you turn pale?"

"I am not sick."

"Why don't you consult my art?"

"I'm not silly."

Ha! I love it. I love this character. I haven't been drawn to British female authors in the past. I've tried reading Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and I can't finish them. I guess I get bored. (I did like Emma.) But this is a league of its own.

Anyone read her sister, Emily Bronte? Wuthering Heights? Should I read it?

The Fam's Comin'

I just saw them, but lucky for me, my family's coming to NYC tomorrow for my brother's Spring Break. It's the family vacation this year. We've been planning it for a while now, primary reason being, my family loves to PLAN. Man, can we plan! Unlike Seth's family, who have no idea what they're gonna do until 5 minutes before they do it. Every time. Always. It's how it is. It's how it always will be. My family, however, gets irritable and grumpy without a plan. Except for my brother. He's the laid back one of the family. Or maybe it's just that we've always planned for him, so why should he start now?

Since we've moved to New York, I've seen my parents more than when we lived in Texas. Pretty cool, actually. My dad has business to attend to here, so my mom tags along, and it's always a blast. No matter what we're doing, my mom has this way of making it hilariously fun. Take for instance, last time they were here. Seth and I had just moved from the ganuf's building into our newfound haven, and Mom and Dad helped us get moved in and situated. This is me and mom making a "shower caddy."

I mean, really, how fun can it be? Soooo much fun.

Doesn't get much more fun than that.

While my dad slaves away in the next room, doing this:

Yep. Putting up shelves. As many of you handy people know, he's finding the studs with the nifty stud-finder. Seth kept wondering why the thing didn't light up and beep when it passed him....

You better believe it, we had planned for those shelves to be put up. Right down to the hour of day. And don't feel sorry for ole' dad. He loves it! No, really. He loves it! I think he might just put up shelves all day long if he could. It's like a puzzle to him.

"Hmmmm...now why is this showing studs 16 inches apart here (finger thumps the wall twice) but then 12 inches apart here? And then LOOK, I get here and it's like a big huge solid...(moves the stud finder over the same area about 12 times) something.... Concrete. (Decisively) It's gotta be concrete, or maybe brick. Nope. The shelves won't work there. Let's try over here...hmmmm."

But watch out, Seth. With dad around, you're doin' stuff you never even IMAGINED you could do!

That's Seth putting up a hand towel ring on the wall. Dad approves.

While I've been blessed to see my parents often, I haven't seen much of my brother at all. He still lives in Texas. He and his wife attend a missionary training school and plan to go overseas as missionaries in the near future. They were able to come see my show in Houston. My brother gave me a Belle doll after the show. It is now a permanent decorative fixture in our apartment. Here's me, my brother, and the doll. It made my night to see them there.:

Handsome guy, huh? And here's his gorgeous wife sitting next to him at the show, and his wife's sister next to her:

They are a beautiful couple, both with hearts sensitive to the Lord and hungry for His Word and the gospel of Christ. I'm not ready for them to move so far away. But I'm thankful for these next few days with them. Love you guys. See ya soon!

Words of Advice

While searching through your cabinets for hot tea packets, avoid the boxes that say "Super Dieter's Tea."


The effects really aren't very pleasant. I came "home" from my show Friday night in dire need of hot tea. My throat was tired. And since I was tired, my search led me to the only box that said "caffeine free." The box also said "Super Dieter's Tea," but I didn't pay much attention to that because I didn't know what it meant.

Um....after Saturday morning, I know what it means.

Do you what that means?

The box also said to let the tea steep for only 1 minute, and avoid pressing on the tea packet while it steeped. I didn't read that part, either.

More Pictures: The Gold Dress

How can you not love playing this role when you get to wear dresses like this?...

As you can see, I'm real happy about my dress. Cogsworth's sister-in-law made it. She's amazing. I wish I could wear dresses like that every day. My four-year-old niece dresses up like a princess every day. Why can't I?

Me and Lumiere

And when you get to take pictures with little brown-eyed girls like this...

Oh my gosh, she had the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes.

One little 4-year-old girl came up to me, kissed my cheek and said in her sweet little voice, "I love you."

One little girl stood with her daddy after the show, and when she saw me, gasped and said, "She's real!"

And then another one handed me this wilted flower. As she handed it to me, wide-eyed and speechless, her mom told me she had picked it before the show and held it the whole time so she could hand it to me afterwards.



My sweet husband and parents. I'm so thankful for the support my husband and my parents continually give. I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing without the encouragement Seth has given me. I am so blessed. My parents haven't missed a show yet.

And here's some more fun ones I found:

Gaston and the Beast rehearsing the fight scene.

Silly Girls and Lefou swoon over Gaston

"My daughter...odd? Now where did you get an idea like that?"Papa and his invention

My friend and email buddy, Audrey, playing Chip! She did a FANTASTIC job. During the show she was inside a rolling cart, with only her head sticking out the top...until the end of the show, when she ran out as a...GASP....BOY!!!

OK, I think I'm finally done with picture mania.

More Beauty and the Beast Pics

All right, I'm sorry for all the pics here, but grin and bear it, because the show's over, and I'm sad. So here's some backstage shots.

Wardrobe, Belle, Babette, Lumiere, and.... a cheese grater.

Those crazy half-humans

"Oh no, no, no! I've been burnt by you before!!"

Belle and the frightful Beast

Belle and the not-so-scary-slightly-puppy-like Beast

And finally, the Julio-Prince!

More to come!!

Opening Night!

It went REALLY well, considering all the things that could have gone wrong... I absolutely love playing this role. Here are a few pics. They're actually from dress rehearsal. Will have more coming soon. (I'm sure you know, but just in case you don't...you can click on the pic to enlarge.)



OK, well, they're taking forever to load and I'm exhausted, so more coming soon.

Congrats to the cast and crew!

The Church At Its Best

When it works the way it should, there's nothing sweeter. Here we are, back in Houston, staying at a beautiful house...for free. Driving a borrowed car...for free. Friends offering lunch, offering dinner, offering rides, offering fellowship, friendship. Meeting our needs when we've done nothing to deserve the kindnesses. The body of Christ helping a couple of wandering artists find their way.

I'm overwhelmed. So thankful. And hoping I've done something to meet their needs. Hoping I've filled a missing piece somehow, as they've done for me.

To whom much is given, much is required.

I'm hoping that one day I can offer someone a place to stay, or give them my car, or feed them a good, home cooked meal. Or maybe I'll be the person they know will pray for them. Who will listen without judging. Encourage. Care. I'm hoping that I'll remember how much has been given to me.

We need each other.

I'm learning how important that is.

H-town

I have never been more glad to be in Houston than in these past two days. The most beautiful day in the whole history of Houston was Sunday. 60's. Big clear blue sky. Birds singing right outside my window. In FEBRUARY!!

I took a walk Monday. One, because it was such a beautiful day. Two, because I'm so used to walking around town that it's not right to stay holed up in a house or in a car, or wherever. And three, because I can't get enough of that Texas sky. It was always one of my favorite things about Houston.

Almost as good as my friends here. I'm having such a good time visiting my friends that I, at times, wonder why we left at all. I wonder for a fleeting moment, and then I remember. I know we were right to leave. But it makes me long for heaven when we won't ever have to leave our friends, our family. Or if we physically leave them, no big deal, right? Because it all goes on forever and we'll be back in no time. Literally, no time. Which is weird. I've taken the notion of writing everyone a letter. A big, sappy letter to every person I know in Houston. Even my (guys, close your eyes)...girlie doctor, who I visited on Monday. She was so nice to me that I wanted to write her a letter. A letter to my OB/GYN? Yeah. It's kind of ridiculous. Even my dentist! Who I visited today, for only $10. Heck, I should write my insurance company a letter!

I rehearse in the evenings, so my days are play time, basically. I wake up late. (A little like heaven, too, I think.) I make coffee. I sometimes watch Ellen. I go to doctors and run errands. I get my toes and eyebrows done with my friend, Super Churchlady. And then I go be Belle for the evening. It's...I don't know...it's...INCREDIBLE.

When I first got here on Thursday, it felt like I had left a week ago. I remembered everything so perfectly. It was like New York was a vacation and I was coming home. Then I woke up the next day and felt nostalgic and out of place. Like everything was so foreign and strange. And NOW, I want to write everyone a letter. This is so weird and good and fun and sad.... I'm a mess.

This is Awesome

Direct from Chaotic Hammer. Caption by: The Cachinnator:



"Shaun Groves, Seth Ward, and The Cachinnator Walked into a Bar..."

Nice going, C-ham. And the caption, Cach...right on.

Beauty and the Beast

I'm leaving for Houston this week to play my favorite role of all time. This is really exciting for me. Truthfully, I've been waiting for a chance to play this role, and here it is!! I hope it's not the last time, but it's definitely the first!

Tickets are on sale at www.fortbendtheatre.com.

Here's directions to The Stafford Centre.

Would love for any of you Houston-ites (or not, my parents are coming in from Oklahoma =-) ) to come see the show! Spread the word!

Public Transportation...

is the bomb-dot-com. ESPECIALLY when it's FREE!!!!

FREE shuttle to Ikea. From New York City to Elizabeth, NJ. Non-stop. And returning. Absolutely FREE!!!


Have you ever eaten at Ikea? Pretty darn tasty. I highly recommend the Swedish Meatballs, and the Chocolate Mousse Cake. Because it's all pretty delicious. Oh yeah, and HALF THE PRICE. How do you do it, Ikea? Really, how do you do it?

A fancied future field trip: A Saturday lunch date to Ikea in New Jersey. It would be the cheapest date of all. Hey, it could even be a Valentines date if you bought those cute little Ikea ice cube trays that freeze the ice in x's and o's.

Except Valentine's Day is on Thursday, not Saturday, and the shuttle is only free on Saturday and Sunday.

I love you, Ikea.

Two Weeks and One Day Ago

My husband almost died two weeks and one day ago. From choking on an oyster cracker. I came home that day and found Seth sitting in his favorite brown leather desk chair. A sight I'm used to and one that I like. He would turn around and smile and say hi. He turned, but instead of a smile and a hello, said I'd never guess what happened to him that day. When he told me, I told him what I tell my one-year-old boy that I babysit, "Chew, baby. Chew." But that was after I knelt beside my husband and cried with my arms around his neck.

As I held onto him, I thought of what I would do if I lost him. How empty and unsafe I would feel. Empty. How my life isn't meant to be lived without him. It wouldn't be right. It doesn't make sense. And how could God let that happen? How it all seems up to chance. That God isn't in control. If he was how could Seth have almost died? Where was God's protection? It's all pandemonium. God leaves us all to chance, and a faulty bite at dinner could strip my best friend in the world from me. Thirty more seconds, and he could have been gone from my life in an instant.

And I suppose you think, but he didn't die. Right. He didn't. And maybe you're also thinking, God WAS protecting him. He didn't die. And you'd be right. You are right. And thankfully within a reasonable time, I began to have those thoughts, too.

But what if he had died? People die every day. Seth will die one day. Maybe even before me. Maybe I'll have time to prepare. Maybe it will happen when I least expect it. No matter what, it will feel like the end of my world. It will feel empty. It will feel unsafe. And what will I think then? Will I think it all chance and that God had turned away from me?

We sang at Redeemer Presbyterian here in New York this past Sunday: "Give Me Jesus," which Seth adapted from the well-known spiritual and added his own verses and bridge. I think they liked it, but I remember the sermon that Tim Keller preached. He preached from a passage in Job, about the fear of God amidst despair. That when despair enters our lives, what we really need more than anything, what Job realized he needed, the only answer to it all, is wisdom. And wisdom comes from the fear of God. Those who have not the fear of God have not wisdom. They are fools.

He described the fear of God, as not so much a scary fear, like the fear of an intruder, or the fear of what any bad person or person with bad intentions might do to me. The fear of God is believing in the purest good, even when that good allows for bad. This is wisdom: Realizing that yes, the world at times works the way it should. Hard work equals reward. Following God equals blessing. Following the rules equals fair. BUT the world is fallen. And alot of the times it doesn't work the way it should. Hard work ends in suffering. Following God ends in despair. And nothing is fair. Wisdom is knowing in these times, that we serve a God, who, actually, (yes), allows all around us to be black and dismal, allows the bad to enter our lives, does NOT prevent it, and at the same time, not only has control of our lives, but loves us more than we can imagine...as we struggle through the darkness and hurt through the despair and beat our fists demanding justice. Amidst the darkest despair, TRUSTING and BELIEVING in that all-powerful goodness, in that love, and ultimately in the justness of it all. That is fearing God. That is wisdom.

Will I have learned wisdom when that time of despair comes? Will I forget that this world is fallen, that it doesn't follow the everlasting law of God? That it yearns for restoration? That it will be restored. Will I be a fool?

Job 28:12: "But where can wisdom be found...?"

Job 28:28: And he said to man,
'The fear of the Lord—that is wisdom,..."

City Sights

Something tells me I shouldn't eat here.