New Year's Eve

I really need to go to bed, but I'm still alert and operational, so, I am writing one last blog post for 2010.

Some people like to take New Years Eve to reflect on another year gone by. For me, that usually happens officially the night of my birthday, since technically, that's when my new year starts. I don't care what the calendar says--January 1 is not a new year for me, since I'm not even six months through my current year of life.

Others spend New Years Eve partying, celebrating, drinking, and in some cases, kissing. While the idea of kissing in the New Year is quite romantic, it's not something I'll be doing this year. I spent the day helping my dad clean the garage, and as a result, partying is the last thing my legs want to do.

Lots of people are nostalgic for the things they've done, accomplished, or achieved. Me, I feel like all I've got behind me is my mistakes, upsets, and wrongdoings; I've grown from them, but still, I wouldn't be who I am today if I didn't have those faults before now.

If anything, I'm nostalgic for the future. I'm not talking about New Years resolutions or my plans for making the best of the next 365 days. I believe my best days are ahead of me, though not because of anything I can do for myself. I believe whatever is to happen will be because God's got a plan for my life, a plan to bless me and not harm me.

And, even if the next year doesn't replicate my most fantastic dreams, I know God is not slow in keeping his promises. Today is just a day, and tomorrow is just another day, and what is a day in God's time? When the time is right, I promise God will keep his promise, every one of them.

An acquired taste

Leftovers are strange, really. I've never been much of a leftover eater; it used to be any leftovers I was willing to eat were either Chicken Casserole, or Beefaroni, which, if you think about it, aren't the most appetizing meals to consider the second time around. As I've gotten older though, I've come to appreciate leftovers as a convenient and quick meal whose benefits often outweigh their inherent grossness.

Aside from the fact leftovers are destined to become the blue and gray goop in the back of your refrigerator, leftovers are gross because no two meals cook the same way. Pasta and bread-based dishes need a sprinkling of water first in order to heat right and not dry out. Soup and chili are best reheated in a saucepan, and with constant stirring to prevent burning. Taco fixings make for decent salads a day or so later, but forget about resurrecting authentic tacos once they've made it into the fridge. And I can promise your holiday dinner won't leave you with that warm nostalgia of a few days earlier after two minutes in the microwave.

Leftovers, like most everything in life, are a choice. You have to want to eat them in order to brave the recesses of the fridge, and then you have to accept the challenge of warming them up. If you make a mistake, there's no going back for a redo. You've got to live with it, whatever the outcome. Of course, you don't eat the cold bits by themselves, nor do you dive fork-first into the scalding parts. To enjoy leftovers, you've got to take the good moments with the not-so-good moments. After you're finished, it'll all taste the same anyways, so don't focus on the details, just eat it.

Tonight, I ate leftovers for dinner--beefaroni, if you're interested--because it's my parents' anniversary. I wanted to be able to tell them when they asked that I had eaten already, and that they should go out to eat like they always do. I also wanted to escape their intensifying discussion going on across the hall.

Don't get me wrong, my parents don't argue often, but like any couple, they have their moments. They're not going to get a divorce or anything, and they've been married forever...something like 30 years, I believe.

Still though, it's hard to watch them work their issues out from an impartial point-of-view. By impartial, I mean, I spend enough time with both parents individually to understand what about the other is driving them crazy. Part of me wants to step in and help them negotiate stuff, but I know it's not my place, and honestly, I don't /want/ to fill that role.

Tonight's drama came about because my mom's been taking care of her mom at the nursing home, spending almost all her time there and my dad was way on the grumpy side today. My mom doesn't always get to tell my dad what's going on at the nursing home, and she's probably exhausting herself going every day; she comes home looking stressed and frustrated every day, but most of it is exhaustion (or on some days, frustration at the quality of life there). My dad reads my mom's emotions, and he wants to help, but he can't find any way to get past what must feel like a distancing barrier between he and his wife. Because my dad can't get past my mom's exhaustion and frustration, he himself gets exhausted and frustrated, which contributes to my mom's feelings, and it goes on and on. Just recently, it's felt like a back-and-forth war of attrition between the two of them.

I don't mind that my parents have issues. All couples do. I just don't want to be a spectator when it happens.

My parents have shown me one thing though in the course of all their arguments.

Marriage is about forgiveness, acceptance, and loving them anyways. Both parties involved will screw up at some point. It's inevitable.

Just as Christians need to pick up their cross daily, husbands should put the wife above himself, placing her needs first.

I am thankful to have had parents who, though they had quibbles every now and then, were able to practice all of these things before I even knew they were biblical principles. I am also glad to be among the few who can say his parents have never divorced.

Happy anniversary Mom and Dad.

Edit: It's a day later, and my parents went out to dinner to celebrate their anniversary, holding hands as they walked to the car.

A lesson on serving

Sometimes, I really struggle with my Muscular Dystrophy. On good days, it's the greatest thing in the world, to know I've got the strength to play with the dogs, walk through Wal-Mart, or in extreme cases, to destroy my energy playing airsoft. On the rougher days, I'm achy, irritable, and lethargic for days on end. Most days, I'm in between. As in, I don't have a problem walking around the house, or up and down the stairs, or whatever, provided I'm wearing shoes (and hence have the firm arch-supports that help me so much).

I like to think I know my limits pretty well. Granted, these aren't always something I can express to others in terms they understand, but I know when I need to sit down, when I can stand up, and when I want my wheelchair. Usually, the goal of my day is to balance energy conservation with a satisfactory amount of things done. This is one reason it can take a week to get my room clean; it's not usually trashed that badly, just that I can only put a limited amount of stuff away before I've hit the end of my energy for that day.

Don't be fooled into thinking that my established energy levels are nonnegotiable. While I know my limits, I know better how to push them. I can lock my knees when my shins, thighs, and hips are hurting. With enough rest breaks, I can extend my period spent standing indefinitely. If nothing else, I can resign myself to the couch for an evening or so if it means getting done all that needs to be done.

With this balance explained, I want to share part of the struggle I have sometimes. Do I help maintain my energy levels and physical abilities over the coming weeks, or do I give to the needy?

Most of the time, I do as much as I can for others.

Yep, it makes me a whole lot weaker than I want to be.

Does it bother me? No. I praise God for it, because when I am weak then I am strong.

Kiss me under the mistletoe

My mom made me this awesome Christmas-y beanie back at the start of December; it was inspired by the discovery that she had a pattern for crocheted mistletoe.

In case you were wondering, on the very top of the hat is sewn a sprig of crocheted mistletoe.

I've worn it every time I left the house since she made it.

Just so you know, it's been cold enough to wear it every time I left the house.

With Christmas only days away, I'm kind of disappointed that no one gave me a kiss.

I mean, it's not the end of the world, but I can think of at least one girl whom I would be happy to receive a kiss from.

What if I told you it was biblically sound to kiss someone under the mistletoe?

You can get all puritanical if you're that against giving me a kiss, but I promise I've got fresh breath.

The early church had no qualms about smooching. Is it worth mentioning those silly Corinthian brothers probably kissed people? Heck, if it had been around back then, I bet a bunch of the saints would have loved using kiss-o-grams.

Paul knew how important kisses were and he wanted people to know it.

Jesus' homeboy Peter did too. His advice: Pucker up.

Would I turn down a kiss from any of you single women? I'll give you an honest answer. Not at all.

Meh, there's not much time left for my mistletoe hat to do its job, but maybe I've got a kiss to look forward to in my near future anyways. Who knows.

Have you had your break today?

This isn't an invitation to go out and get McFats, for those of you who remember the title of this post being their slogan.

I'm asking this as a serious question. Have you had your break today? Have you honestly given yourself the time to sit down, and be still--have you given God the chance to speak?

This isn't some religious ritual, some superstitious practice that claims to ward off bad luck or whatever.

I'm talking serious self-improvement here.

And yes, I will go as far as to say you could use improving.

I could too for that matter.

But that's the beauty of it. God didn't care how in-need-of-improvement we are. He loves us for who we are, and that was good enough for him to die in humiliation and disgrace for us.

More than that--as if there could ever be anything more than that--God chose those with obvious room for improvement to outdo those who had no need for as trivial a thing as improvement. In other words, God uses the bottom of the food chain to eat the top.

Sometimes the world is pressing in on all sides, I know, trust me, I've been jabbed in the ribs more than once. It's hard, but it's not the end of the world. You can get through it.

Don't bother with other people's opinions of you. It's not worth it.

Don't be anxious. Be grateful.

Instead, take a break. Sit down for a while, shut the door if you can, and marvel at the awesomeness that is the Lord God Almighty.

Relating a bit with Moses

Moses was a pretty ordinary dude, if you can get past the fact he led an entire nation on a mass exodus out of one country and into another.

But, even then, he couldn't do it on his own. In my Bible reading today, I found an instance where Moses was probably on his knees praying like crazy. In his words, I hear what sounds like frustration, angst, and exhaustion over doing the Lord's work. It's not that he's on the verge of giving up, it's just that the Israelites are driving him mad.

He says to God, "You've been telling me over and over again to lead these people, but you haven't told me who's going to do it with me. I can't work like this dog, I need help. You said you know me by name, and you've found favor with me, but God, I'm lost. Teach me how to do the job, and do it right. I want to know how you work, what to expect, who you are. Remember, these people are your homies."

God answered, "I'm right here wit ya dawg, I've got yo back."

Moses, perhaps because of something that happened that day or whatever, he begs God not to leave him, "If you decide not to come with, don't tell us to go on, deal? I don't know if you've noticed, but when you're not around God, we aint got no street cred."

I think God smiled when he replied, "You got it. I know who ya are and where ya come from, and I'm chill wit it."

I am somewhat humbled and amazed. For a while now, I've been picking up vibes of God planning to use me for something in the lives of other Christians, perhaps in a leadership role. I don't know that it was a traditional leadership role, involving teaching a Sunday School class or whatever, but maybe more of a lead-by-example thing. It's like if I can live my life humbly and lovingly, maybe I will encourage others to do the same.

Of course, I've been trying to do that, and God's been with me pretty much since I began trying, but who says I'm that observant?

This semester, I asked myself a lot who would be there to lead by loving with me? I wanted someone whose energy I could feed off of, while in turn feeding them. In addition, I wanted to be able to grow spiritually alongside and as a result of whoever God placed in my life.

What better companion is there than the Holy Spirit?

Let me be the first to admit that when I'm trying to live life without God, I'm a retard.

But, God still answers my prayers, even during my retarded moments. God has shown me both the partner I need, and the Christian support structure I was fumbling for.

God is amazing.