Love you some guinea pig!

Seabrook's famous Tookies on Hwy 146

Okay, I think I've got this 7 thing figured out . . . ya'll are wanting Ann and me to be the guinea pigs swine piglets ALRIGHT!--GUINEA PIGS (I just can't think of an cuter word replacement) on this thing.  If we survive, ya'll just might try it, right?  Yeah, I thought so.  Well, I, for one --can't speak for Ann today--am happy to be your guinea pig.  (Guinea piggy?--now, that's kinda cute, isn't it?)


Happy, but truth be told, a little scared, too.  Okay, a LOT scared. You know that Month 1 is the fast from excess food.  That may not have been the biggest deal for Jen Hatmaker (author of 7), but for moi, well, let's just say that there's a reason I was trying to come up with something cuter than pig.  (Although, now that I think about it, a pig does weigh less than a hog . . . yep, let's go with pig.  I can be happy with that.)


I am a voluptuous woman (try looking up the word zofitg), and I didn't get this way by eating healthy whole-grains, salads, and lean meats all my life.  No, I did the old fashioned way--I ate like a . . . well, you know.  


I've struggled with gluttony all of my life (even when I was thin--like a 100 years ago--so this is a rEEEEally  old  problem), and to say that the food thing is going to be a challenge is probably the understatement of the year.  (The decade.  Maybe the millenium. )  Yes, I do love me some groceries.  And restaurants.  And . . . well, yeah, I love it ALL.


I know I haven't posted on a regular basis so far this year (and, yes, I know, even much last year), but I do plan to use this blog as my 7 journal, so I can vent when I think I'm losing my mind share my spiritual insights with you as you check on my progress with this experimental "mutiny against excess" (good ol' Jen) throughout the next seven months.


Here's what I decided about my food choices.  (Jen chose seven foods, but, remember, she stresses that hers don't have to be ours--her book isn't meant to provide a legalistic template. I'm pretty much going the way of Bible Dude, who started his 7 project last month.)  My menu for the month will consist of the following:

       BREAKFAST:     Eggs and toast
     LUNCH:            Beans and brown rice, a small portion of fruit
     DINNER:              Small portion of plain meat and a vegetable


And since I start this project tomorrow, I'm off now to meet my just-returned-from-Senegal sister-friend for a hamburger and onion rings at Tookies.  (I shall refrain from calling it the Last Supper.)


Grins and fear excitement!
Pamm
  

7-Sisters!

This post was supposed to show up here a couple of weeks ago, but somehow in one of my goofier, unfocused moments (shocked, aren't you), I posted it to my other blog (the place where I share my obsession with much less important topics like arranging my thrift-store plates to perfection on my foyer wall and finding the perfect leather recliner for cheap off Craigslist).  

So sorry for the delay! 

About two weeks ago I wrote:

Has anybody else out there ever looked around at all the activity and stuff that we crowd our lives with--including inside the church walls--and thought, "there's gotta be more to this following-Jesus life than just entertaining and blessing ourselves and working so hard to appear spiritual"?  Jen Hatmaker asked the same thing, came up with an experiment aimed at rebelling against, and repenting of, all of that excess, and then she wrote about it. The result is an incredible little book called 7: An experimental mutiny against excess. 

Here's a response from one real-live, regular-person reader and Amazon customer Christine Hoover: 

You must read this book! Here's what it's about: Jen (the author) did an experiment in which each month for 7 months, she and sometimes her entire family fasted in an area she felt they were excessive in: media, stress, possessions, shopping, food, clothes, and waste. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that sounds all preachy and super-spiritual and hard and you don't want to read it. Thankfully, it's the complete opposite. It is laugh-out-loud hilarious, totally real-life, 100% empowering, and 0% guilt-inducing.

You must go immediately to purchase this book and devour it whole. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Do not stop to brush your teeth or feed your children. While you're out, buy Depends to wear because you will pee yourself while reading from laughing so hard.

Some other suggestions of how to read this book:

1) Keep a handy while you're reading to write down notes and thoughts because ideas and action points will come to you like nobody's business.  2) Do not read this book right before you go to bed because you will not be able to sleep due to the millions of thoughts running around in your brain.

Read this book with your girlfriends!

Well, [this is Pamm back], that's exactly what Ann Hutchison and I are proposing--reading the book and then, with a group of friends, accepting the 7 Challenge. (We're calling ourselves "7-Sisters"--not seven, like the number--7 like the book title.)  No one has to do the project exactly the way Jen did it--she, herself, stresses that she didn't write the book to be used as a template but as more of a catalyst, "a fast: an intentional reduction, a deliberate abstinence to summon God's movement in my life" (Jen). 

The point is to do the challenge in some way that will ultimately result in a lifestyle that focuses on those things that Jesus taught that so many of us American Jesus-followers ignore in favor of maintaining our comfort zones--things like loving our neighbors as much as we love ourselves (and remember those Jesus pointed out as our neighbors? Not just those who look like us, smell like us, and vote like us. Ouch.) . . . things like taking care of orphans and widows (the ignored, the divorced, the disenfranchised), speaking for those who have no voice, seeking justice for the oppressed, feeding the hungry, comforting the sick, visiting those in prison . . . 

Ann and I have already read the book, and, yeah, it's hilarious in parts (reading Jen is, on some pages, like listening to your "funnest," oldest bff catch you up on her life over a cup of coffee with French vanilla creamer and chocolate bon-bons), but just when you're about to snort said coffee out your nostrils, she zings you.  With scripture, no less. It's not for the faint of heart, peeps. 

But it's what this heart needed to hear. And it's the kind of truth that I can't just hear and then walk away from. I have to respond in some way.  Ann felt the same way; she felt compelled to do something  (although she did say that when she finished the book, she didn't know whether to thank me or to hurt me for recommending it).

Precisely because it's not for the faint of heart, Ann and I decided to partner-up to do our own 7 project. We'll each tweek Jen's ideas to fit into our individual lives (as I said, something Jen encourages), but we WILL follow her pattern for the seven monthly focuses--Month 1, food; Month 2, clothing; etc.--until we've completed each of the seven monthly focuses.  

We plan on starting April 1 (no, it's not a joke), almost two weeks away--plenty of time for some of you brave souls out there to get the book, read it, and then pray about joining us on this adventure. (Ann devoured the book in two days.)  [EEKS!  In now-real time, the project for Ann and me starts in two DAYS--on this Sunday--not two WEEKS!  But if you decided to join us, jump in at ANY time 'cause no matter where you are, we'll be glad to encourage you and hear your thoughts.]

If you do read the book, we'd LOVE to hear from you, whether you feel led to join us in the project or to just cheer us on.  Regardless of what you chose to do, we welcome your comments, your insight, your questions. and suggestions. But at least read the book (and then, you, too, can thank me or fantacize about hurting me).  I don't believe you will ever think the same way again. About anything.  

Go on. Read it. I double-dog dare you.  And then share.  SHARE! (Seriously, I really do want to hear your thoughts.)

Grins,

Pamm

PS  Ann and I figured that if we start in April, we will complete the final month in October, just before the holiday season begins. Would you believe that the last month calls for a fast from             S-T-R-E-S-S? Yeah, I think that's pretty much what I would call ordained.  

Snatchin' and Grabbin': Sometimes It's a Good Thing

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh (for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but mighty before God to the casting down of strongholds), casting down imaginations, and every high thing that is exalted against the knowledge of God, and bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ . . . "

 2 CORINTHIANS 10:3-5

Paul writes, “ . . . we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. . . “ Good preachin’ and hard livin’ . . . and lately, harder on most mornings than usual.

One morning last week the entire thought actually slipped out before I could grab it:  I do not want to go to work.  I do not want to do this.

The scary thing was that I meant it.  At least at that moment. Yep, at that moment, I meant it with all my heart. I wanted to wave a magic wand and magically poof  myself into Cinderella. (That particular morning I might have even enjoyed cleaning the fireplace.)

No, that’s not right—the Cinderella part, I mean—I think what I really wanted was to maybe be the fluffy voluptuous fairy godmother who gets to tap others with the magic wand while she’s flitting and floating around to wherever she sees something or someone needing her own special touch.  (Stopping ever so often, of course, not only to enchantingly transform the lives of the downtrodden, but to decorate their homes, as well.)

But, the cool thing about being a 50-Plus Woman is that I’ve lived long enough to get what Paul means in verse 5: “casting down imaginations, and every high thing that is exalted against the knowledge of God and bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ . . . “

You see, I know that Papa has called me to this place that I sometimes call work and on other days the School House.  I know that this is my Macedonia (at least for now).  And, oh, brothers and sistas, how dangerous it would be for me to let my imaginations run wild until they become strongholds on those mornings when it is hard to leave the Casita and my projects and my journaling and my computer screen and my . . . well, you get the idea.

It is in those moments that my flesh-wants could so easily become the high things that I could then so naturally shift to exalting against the knowledge of God.  

Thank God—literally!—that the Spirit within me rebels against that and refuses to collaborate with my flesh, instead, choosing to snatch up that thought, take it back into custody, and place it under the lordship of Jesus that the rest of me might follow in obedience.  (I’m tellin’ you, Dog the Bounty Hunter ain’t got nothin’ on the Holy Spirit when it comes to snatchin’ up!)

I was called to Africa a couple of times.  And for a while to the exotic streets of Pasadena.  But these days, Papa has called me mostly to Seabrook. And, so help me God, I will be obedient. 

Even on mornings when my imagination longs to take me elsewhere.

What about you?  Do you ever struggle with where Papa has placed you?  With the ministry He’s given you?  I’d love to hear your thoughts.

 Meanwhile,

Still grinning, still snatchin’,

Pamm

Sweat Equity

St. Michael says I have absolutely no concept of time.  (And, in turn, I have been known to refer to him as the Human Alarm Clock.) I started a project in our tiny little kitchen Saturday morning that I was positive I could finish by late afternoon or early evening.  And I did finish . . . about one-third of it.

The thing is, what I thought of as a little change (with big results) took a lot longer than I thought it would.  (I think I hear St. Michael guffawing in the background.) And it was a little bit harder. In fact, it's a good thing that the completed one-third looks soooooo yummy 'cause, otherwise, I'd be seriously tempted to leave everything else just like it is.

But when I look at the results of all that work -- even though it was nastier, harder, and more time-consuming than I had imagined it would be -- I can't help but admit that it was worth it.  And after a short break (if that's what you can call spending the week teaching my sixth- and seventh-grade babies), I'll ready to put on my sandin', paintin', stainin' clothes and go at it again.

Spiritual change has been like that for me, too, sometimes.

There are times when I've been tempted to say, Papa, let's just stop right here.  I'm too tired and too hurt, and this is all just to plain messy to go on any further. Please, PLEASE, can't You just leave me here?

Those are the moments that He's stopped me, taken me by the shoulders, and refocused me long enough for me to look back with Him at the work we've already done together and remember His pronouncement that it is good.  And I do have to admit that our finished product--no matter how small a part of the whole--is good.

After a few more deep breaths, I feel the want-to return, and I know that I will expend myself, I will invest my resources, I will allow myself to experience pain--all for that reason, that just as His creative work was in the beginning, it is now: It is good.

And thus it is worth whatever the cost.

Excuse me while I change into my keep-on-keepin'-on clothes . . . 

Grins and a little sweat,

Pamm

The Pink Candle

 

Photo from featurepics.com

NOTE:   I have no idea why the type on the first part of this post is pink AND in all caps . . . and I can't figure out how to fix it!  Sorry!

 

Yes, I know this is not the continuation of the Being Thankful When You're a Basket Case!  I don't know why I haven't been able to finish that series here in Blog Land, but I just haven't.  I mean, I have the material and everything -- in fact, I shared that series at a women's retreat in Centerville, Texas in early October (at the FABULOUS Cowboy Church there and with some of the most incredible women ever!).  But for some reason, I just haven't been able to sit down and put it on the computer . . . so instead of avoiding the keyboard, I'm just gonna skip it for now and go on with other stuff.  (If any of you are hanging by a thread or waiting with bated breath for the rest of that series, E-mail me, and we'll "talk.")  

 

So, with Christmas right here upon us (how did it get here so fast!), I'm forging on with some Christmas thoughts this morning . . .

 

After hearing a great message on joy last Sunday, I couldn't help but think of where I was a few years back when it came time to light that pink candle of joy in the Advent wreath.  The truth about joy is as relevant today as it was then.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

My newspaper reading habits probably say as much about me as anything else. (I'm afraid to guess at exactly what, but I'm sure someone like Patrick Jane of The Mentalist or the Criminal Minds profiling team could tell you.)  I never start with the front page -- in fact, I rarely ever get to the front page at all -- but instead, mumble each a.m. to St. Michael in my grumpy morning voice, "Gimme my section of the paper," which he knows refers to the Houston Chronicle's "Star" section (it has a big yellow Texas star top-center, duh!).  This is where one finds the comics, Dear Abby (or is it Ann Landers?), and the daily crossword.  (Obviously, I'm a lot shallower than I like to think.)   I only venture from this routine on Saturdays, when "my section" includes the "Religion" insert, as well.  

On the Saturday before Christmas, "A Blue Christmas" caught my attention in the "Upcoming Events" listings of the "Religion" section.  A Houston church was advertising a special Monday evening service for those who were experiencing loss of, or separation from, loved ones or just the plain ol' holiday blues during the Christmas season.   I seriously contemplated going.  I could only remember one other Christmas when I'd felt as un-Christmasy as I was feeling now, and that was over thirty years ago when my parents were in Iran and I was a twenty-year-old, home by myself, state-side.   Despite a last-minute flight to Atlanta to spend the holiday with a favorite aunt, I don't know that I've ever felt as alone and utterly forlorn as I did that Christmas.  Ironically, the differences between my life in 1977 and my life now are too numerous to list, and yet the overwhelming sadness that wrapped itself around me by mid-December 2008 felt remarkably the same.   Different time.  Different circumstances.  Same darkness.

The first two Sundays of Advent found me lighting the fat purple candles of hope and expectancy that sat on our family room coffee table.  I was right on schedule, echoing the lightings taking place at our local church.  As the third Sunday approached, however, with its pink candle of joy -- usually my favorite one to light -- I wondered how I'd manage to flic my bic when the time came.   You see, I'm not one of those people who likes ritual for the sake of ritual.  (In fact, that's one of the reasons I flinch when I hear someone describe me as religious.  I don't see myself as religious at all in the sense that so much of religion for so many is wrapped up in meaningless rote and ritual that has very little, if anything, to do with a growing, dynamic relationship with Jesus Christ.)  I tend to shy away from doing the usual if it has no meaning, even the "usual" that would normally be meaningful.  Anything that's supposed to be worshipful has to be real for me; I don't want to get in the habit of faking it -- it's too hard a habit to break.  Thus my dilemma:  How to light the joy candle when Casey has struck out.  When there is no joy in Mudville.    

I began to talk about this with Papa-God.  I began to review what joy was supposed to mean in the context of the believer's life, in this believer's life.   Round and round we went.   Sunday Number 3 came, and I did not light the pink candle.  

Monday.  I surrendered.  I chose to practice what I preach.  I chose joy.  And I lit the pink candle. 

In the days prior to and in the days since lighting the joy candle, more than ever before I've been reminded that joy is not happiness.  Joy is not related to my circumstances, to my relationships, to what's going on  or not going on in what I call my outer life.  (My outer life being those things, people, and circumstances over which I have no control but which impact me because they venture into my space.)  Instead, it's about my inner life and what's going on or not going on there.  And that's where choice comes in.   I may not have many choices when it comes to my outer life -- very seldom can I control what others think, say, or do.  (Instead, their thoughts, words, and actions stem from the choices they make in their inner lives and how those choices work themselves out and then spill over onto me).  I do control, though, my inner life.  There is where my choices come into play.  I can choose to allow Holy Spirit to take control of my thoughts, words, and actions or I can let my flesh take over (foolishly thinking that's the real me when it's really not since I'm a "new creature in Christ.")  

Holy Spirit will always walk me in paths of righteousness with a deep, not-depending-on-the-outer-life, abiding joy, while Flesh Woman will consistently look for paths of least resistance leading to momentary, fleeting, flash-in-the-pan happiness, at best.

Hmmm, tough choice?  Not really.  No, YES, really!  I'd be lying through my teeth if I didn't admit that for whatever reason, on some days the choice is tough.  On some days, I shallowly want only the Star section of life;  I don't want to see the front page or the business section or even the "Outlook" section of life.  On some days, like a two-year-old, I just want what I want, how I want it, when I want it, and at that moment, to heck with the cost. 

But for Christmas 2008 and, I pray, for the entirety of 2009, I choose to count the cost, and I choose joy.  

I choose to remember that the foundation for my joy is Jesus Christ.  Therefore, I will choose to stay connected to Him, doing whatever it takes to grow deeper in our relationship.

I choose to allow Papa-God to use difficult times to strengthen my joy, remembering that regardless of the circumstances of my outer life, there is always room for joy in my inner life.  (And I'm a firm believer, if you haven't already guessed, that whatever's going on in my inner life will bubble up and spill over into and out onto the outer life.)  

I will also choose to serve others, knowing that few things bring greater joy than doing something that brings joy into someone else's life.  (Ah, that spilling out thing.)  When we serve others in the name of Jesus, we honor Him and we experience joy.

And speaking of choices, I will remember that Papa-God chooses ordinary people with ordinary talents and equips them to do extraordinary things and to experience extraordinary joy . . . for this is the life He has designed for us.

[A special thanks to the preaching staff of Church of the Woodlands for the principles shared in those last few paragraphs.] 

Here's to lighting the pink candle.  Each of us.  Every day.

Grins and joy!

Pamm

When It's Raining, When It's Pouring

Source:  BelovedandFree.blogspot.com

Thanking God When You're a Basket Case

*Part 2 CONT'D

Thanking God In 

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

*Maybe instead of writing "Part 2  CONT'D" for the next several posts, I should start labeling the posts 

"Part 2b" and "Part 2c" . . . 

What do you think?  2b or not 2b?  

(Sorry, couldn't help myself.)

When there's not a dark cloud in the sky, we don't normally spend too much time under an umbrella -- we're too busy just grinnin' and enjoyin' the sunshine. (Maybe we even work on our tans so that everyone around us can admire our "healthy glow.")  

But at any given moment, often with little warning,the weather can change. And before we know it, the skies have opened up and our baskets are being rained down upon by the bad and the ugly:

• Something is said, and we find our "ME" soaked to the skin.

• Perhaps a relationship is rocked, and we're soaked beyond the skin -- we're soaked right down to the bone.

• Or circumstances veer out of control, and we're not just soaked, we're downright going under -- we're drowning.

 

And very often in the midst of a storm, it can feel like the only thing our umbrella is sheltering us from is the good.  But the bad and the ugly?  Well, that's drenching us.

And how on this earth do we "give thanks in all circumstances" (1 Thessalonians 5:18a) when we're standing chest-deep in the flood waters of the bad and the ugly?  

First, understand this truth:

Perspective is not the 

view from where your 

circumstances have put you, 

but, rather, it is the view from 

where you choose to stand in the 

midst of your circumstances.

[NOTE:  That's HUGE.  Read it again!]

In other words, we have choice in our perspective, and we must choose wisely.  Beth Moore puts it like this:  "Our questions and confusion must motivate us to seek God" (A Heart Like His).

But, again, how, exactly, do we manage to choose to stand in the midst of circumstances -- or even woalk into God's presence -- when we feel as if we've been cut off at the knees?  When we're bloodied and bruised?  Crippled by the weight of what we're feeling?

And the, how do we even begin to give thanks?

Right after acknowledging that we do have some choices and options, the next thing we need to realize is that magic pills, words, or rituals are not among those choices and options.  That's because there are none. 

There is no fast-and-easy, works-every-time formula or one-size-fits-all, guaranteed-or-your-money-back product that automatically takes you to the place where you can "give thanks in all circumstances."  If there were, trust me, I would've discovered it by now. (And I promise, I'd share it with you.)

There are, however, some practical time-tested suggestions I can offer.

1.  Acknowledge your circumstances.  

     In other words, "Get real." 

     I'm amazed at how many people never look at the 

     real problem they're dealing with.  They focus, 

     instead, on symptoms that are stemming from the 

     problem, and then they try to deal with those 

     symptoms, all the while never looking at the 

     source of the symptoms.  

     They waste precious time and resources on band-  

     aids in an effort to not drip blood onto the carpet, 

     when what they need to do is acknowledge a 

     gaping wound that requires a trip to the ER for  

     stitches to staunch serious bloodloss.

     It's not until I'm honest with myself about a 

     problem that I can truly recognize the seriousness 

     of a situation or, sometimes, if truth be told, how 

     small in the grand scheme of things, a problem 

     might actually be.  

     Either way, I need to know.  I mean, if something 

     is truly life-threatening or life (at least as-I-know-

     it) changing, then I need to know that in order to 

     make the best decisions possible. (If it's 

     determined that something is serious, then 

     knowing how serious is also essential.)

     On the other hand, if I'm blowing something out of 

     proportion and driving myself crazy because I've 

     gone all drama-queen on myself, then I definitely 

     need to know that, too, don't ya think?  

      

     Bottom line:  Figure out the truth of your situation, 

     and then choose to walk in that truth.  

Whew!  That's a whole lot to take in at one sitting, so I'm stopping  there for today.  But tomorrow I'll share a few more pearls, so go grab some string and meet me back here.

Walking . . . in all kinds of weather,

Pamm  

Speaking of Our HOT selves . . . NOT!

I'll post the next "Thanking God in the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" thoughts tomorrow, but suffice it to say that today's entry is proof that I'm stepping more and more out of my comfort zone as the years go by!

Callie in the bosom of her Jaja in the pool with Jaja.

After returning home from a sister-friend's house, where we celebrated the Fourth of July, I told St. Michael, "I took two really big steps out of my comfort zone today!"


"I know the first one was going to the city celebration and having lunch there with everybody.  [Most people who don't know me well don't believe it, but I really am an introvert.  Given the choice, I will always stay home and read a book or piddle around by myself rather than venturing out and socializing where there are lots of people.]  What's the second?"


"Well, then I went swimming at Bev's . . . in front of people!" (Swimming's not the big deal -- it's walking out in a bathing suit that's HUGE -- absolutely no pun intended.  Well, maybe kinda.)


Woo-hoo!  Now ya'll know I've done gone plumb hawg-wild, sistas!


But Middle Daughter said something so true the next day.  "Mom, the kids had so much fun, and what they will remember is that you got in the pool and played and swam with them -- not what you looked like in your bathing suit with no makeup."


LOL!  Well, let's hope!


These days I'm trying to live by that saying, "Those who matter don't care, and those who care don't matter."  It sure is freeing.  I encourage you to try it.


(And, yes, I need to update my profile picture.  I've let my natural hair -- silver highlights and all -- grow out, and I'm loving it!)


Grins and blessings,


Pamm