Die Hard

I love this movie, especially the part where McClane is pulling the glass out of his foot and you see the smeared blood on the floor leading into the bathroom. I've see this movie like billion times and I never get sick of it! Right now its at the part where he's on top of the roof, covered in blood and swinging by a fire hose down behind a fireball of cosmic porportions, semi-automatic weapon handing from his shoulder. I don't know why but I just love this movie! And all to get his girl back. I love it. I love John McClane, almost as much as Vaughn in Alias. Why? Because they are men and they fight for and protect who they love.

He just walked into the room where Holly Gennaro is held captive by Hans and the sparks are falling behind him and he's covered in blood, glass, sweat and dirt and he looks totally defeated and spent, like he travelled through hell and back just to save his wife. Why, because sometimes even independent, successfull chicks need saving, they need to be protected just as much as the princesses in the disney fairy tale movies.

Music

Its funny how songs can bring back such vivid memories. For instance everytime I hear Guns and Roses Welcome to the Jungle I smell chlorine, and for a moment I am back at Capernwray opening the pool for the three or four dedicated swimmers at the god forsaken hour of 6:00 (which is nothing to me now...that's sleeping in for crying out loud!).

Or Jars of Clay Flood. I think of Dane who in seventh grade was boy of the month once. I tried so hard to impress him as much as an awkward, odd duck of a girl could. I'm sure compared to his love of Nirvana and the true 107.7 the end (not the stuff nowadays...whatever happened to good radio?) my love of Christian alternative was a wee bit comical.

I've been going through many of my cds lately (and I've got enough to give any of ya'll a run for your money!) and well I miss music...good music, the kind that goes beyond a pop experience and taps at your heart, eeirly so. In way that your intelligence collides with your emotion and you are left in awe of the Artist. Music that moves you to think or to act. Music that demands a response from the hearer. Music with a meaning perhaps beyond what the artist intended. I love my old school music but I'm craving something new, something fresh.

I'm really digging A Collison by David Crowder Band. I love the fact that the record is more than words...it is art. I love that even if you took away the words the music is powerful, it tells a story on its own. And I'm stoked because I just found out that my favorite all time band is in studio on a new album, I've no clue when it will come but I know that it will not disappoint. However, Skillet is an aquired taste I do believe, what with the industrial rock sound and the penetrating, bring it on, "let's be frank" lyrics. Its about time.

The Power of Words

Two words were said about me this weekend, two words wich elicted two differnt responses but made for a disappointing weekend with God. "Tease" and "Loud". Neither mouths that uttered these words meant them hurtfully, its just how I responded to them, no anger here, just well, confusion and a sense of failure as a Christian woman.

"Tease." This one just shocked me. I have never even considered myself a tease because well, I figured in order for one to be a tease one must not be one the extreme side of niavete and denial when it comes to guys and relationships. So as this was brought to my attention I've tried to understand how little oblivious me could come accross as a tease and how, if I really am a tease, how do I work on not being so when I don't even know what it is I do that is "tease" worthy? (A sidenote, if any of you guys who read this have some things please tell me...this is the last thing I want to be!)

"Loud." I think this description of me will always be the baine of my exsistence. I hate hearing it in conjuction with who I am but I hear it all to often. There are so many nights where I beg God that when I wake up the next morning I will wake to find he's changed me to be the sterotypical Christian woman who is quiet, gentle, graceful and loving, kind, and so on. Not this loud, outgoing, outspoken, opinionated, strong willed brat who struggles with her tongue and is little Miss Independant. So to hear it said about me, knowing full well it was not meant to be a mean comment or anything like, it made me go back to God and almost cry. I feel like such an odd duck half the time and just wish I could be quieter and described differently...is that the first thing people notice; that I'm loud?

On a very cognitive note: Its intriguing to me how a word said by person A with an intended meaning (be it positive, negative or neutral) can be heard by person B with an unintended meaning (be it positive, negative or neutral). Us humans are quite odd...

A Lesson Learned I Pass on to You

If you lock your keys in your car don't walk to the nearby police station and ask for help.

First of all, the receptionist will stare blankly at you like you just asked her if they can save the world from a rapidly approaching bird army of biblical porportions. Then she will say, "I don't think so." In a very demeening manner, and still perplexed by the question.

Second, don't be undeterred. When you ask to talk to a police officer and to ask them yourself, she will look even more confused and point you to the room accross the way.

Third, don't go. Once you get there you will wait for some time and then speak with a person who is just as bemused by the request and will politely decline on behalf of the officers because, "they don't really do that."

You will walk away, not quite embarassed but wishing you'd cried a little to win some sympthay. Upon reaching the first receptionist who now thinks you must be high, you will ask to use a phone and will call your dad who tells you to call AAA. You will speak with Dot, who bless her heart, applauds your failed efforts and sends a short, unfriendly hero who will unlock your car in the famous Washington mist.

The end. Lesson over.

On Picking a Fight with God

You lose. Always. I can't think of one time when I picked a fight with him and actually left with the trophy.

The last time I tried was in Austria. I hiked halfway up the Planai to my special spot and I literally shook my fist at God and cried and yelled and told him he was screwing up on a royal scale and I wasn't sure I wanted to play by his rules anymore. The fight was over before it even began. It was a beautiful night, clear and crisp and full of stars. The view directly accross from me was the outline of the Dauchstein mountains, snowcapped and set againist a midnight sky. Not one cloud, just moon and stars. When I finally shut up and let God speak he simply said, "Look up." I did and saw a shooting star (a little love note from God that is a whole other story in and of itself). I started crying even harder because of the weight of God's unrelenting, unfailing, forgiving and accepting love. That He could love such a brat was beyond me and all the anger and frustration and hurt and pain started to come into focus. It was legit, but it wasn't God's fault. It astounds me how God can win over my heart time and time again with the simplest of things and far greater than that, that he can silence me so quickly and in the stillness the magnitude of which the Spirit ministers to my soul is something I don't even have words to explain!

All this came back to me because I'm thinking of picking another fight with God. A hopeless endevor I know, for I know all too clearly that I will lose in a crushing way. But the strength in which God wins is comforting; its alluring and its beautiful. I want God to speak powerfully to me. I don't care if its rebuke or words of love, I just want to feel the power of Him--I want to be tremble and be still. But I want to fight. Its like when Jacob wrestled with God and wrestled all night but refused to let up until God blessed him. I want to fight with God until he speaks to me, until he blesses me with his felt presence... That's what I want right now. I want an anchor. I want to follow and to be led. And I will pick my fight, and I will lose. But I will be blessed, perhaps not in the way I desire on this superficial and selfish level, but on a deeper, spiritual level. Because I believe with every fight I pick, I dive deeper into an intimate relationship with God. For I lay before him my heart, my dreams, my desires and my fears--I let down my gaurd and I am vulnerable before the God of the universe, the God of wrath and love, and I give him free reign to do whatsoever pleases with my heart--to crush it or cradle it.

Perhaps its not so hopeless as I thought...