Don't Give Up

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." ~ John 16:33

"My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other. ~ John 15: 12-17



In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my face, I've changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose

Don't give up
'cos you have friends
Don't give up
You're not beaten yet
Don't give up
I know you can make it good

Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that we'd be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn

Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground

Don't give up
You still have us
Don't give up
We don't need much of anything
Don't give up
'cause somewhere there's a place
Where we belong

Rest your head
You worry too much
It's going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Don't give up
Please don't give up

'got to walk out of here
I can't take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
And whatever may go
That river's flowing
That river's flowing

Moved on to another town
Tried hard to settle down
For every job, so many men
So many men no-one needs

Don't give up
'cause you have friends
Don't give up
You're not the only one
Don't give up
No reason to be ashamed
Don't give up
You still have us
Don't give up now
We're proud of who you are
Don't give up
You know it's never been easy
Don't give up
'cause I believe there's the a place
There's a place where we belong

***

P.S. - A VERY Happy Birthday to my friend Sarah Salter! Enjoy your day, and don't do anything I wouldn't! (Which pretty much leaves things wide open...)

Twitter Update moves to Saturday

Okay, peeps - I'm changing things up a bit. I've decided to move the twitter update to Saturday. Why? Oh, just because I felt like it. Actually, I'd like to do a bit more "actual writing" here during the week. We'll see how it plays out.

I received some very exciting news yesterday. (Actually, two exciting announcements in one day). I'll share one of them next week, but the other I still have to keep mum about for a bit longer. Dang it.

But for now, here's the best of me (or not) on the twitter:

@Nick_theGeek Sorry, but no. But AHHHH! (in reply to Nick_theGeek @katdish not even with me?)

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I'm excited about something. But sorry, can't share.

The Church of No People blog is like the giant jar of cheez whiz to my computer's intestinal system. Wuddup with that?

@redclaydiaries Sorry/you're welcome (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish TOO MUCH INFORMATION. I need to go scrub my brain.)

I suppose I should get a seat cozy for my vinyl chair ~ RT @billycoffey: Why you must write naked ~ http://bit.ly/b6n01q

@Helenatrandom Snort! "Twitter Ho Tweets" Sounds like some kind of Little Debbie product by Sylvester the Cat.

@sarahmsalter Sitting here thinking I should probably eat breakfast, but don't feel like getting up. Devastating laziness strikes again.

@billycoffey It was, huh? (in reply to billycoffey @katdish That was bloody brilliant!)

Two, two...Two tweets in one!

If you suffer from Fatassitosis, http://bit.ly/dvuVKe perhaps you should not write naked http://bit.ly/aK4etP

Including, but not limited to Kadonkadonk, Badonkadonk, and Fatassistosis.

Disclaimer: Any and all comments left of my blog, Hey Look a Chicken, may be used in part or in their entirety as future blog fodder.

RT @christomlinson_: "Chris Tomlinson: He doesn't make me want to vomit." by @katdish. Grace comes in many forms. http://ow.ly/11wFi

@makeadiff21 You're asking ME what constitutes normal? You should probably go lay down. (in reply to makeadiff21 @katdish That isn't normal?? Oh, please tell me that's normal.)

Sigh...How is it that I've been busy all day and feel like I've gotten nothing accomplished?

@marni71 I sometimes write my posts in wing dings. Just because... (in reply to marni71 @prodigaljohn Verdana is holier. Just sayin...)

@bryanallain Did you want his cell number? (in reply to bryanallain I'm thinking about interviewing Steve Jobs for my blog. Not a possibility of course, but I'm thinking about it anyway.)

@sarahmsalter Oh, I can't define crap, I just know it when I see it. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish See, you have to define "crap." 'Cuz I'm afraid to send you ANYthing.)

@sarahmsalter Yes. I'm anti-crap. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish Oh, yes. I admit this. You know when something's good and when something's crap. It's your spiritual gift.)

@sarahmsalter Yes, but you must admit that a katdish endorsement is kind of a big deal... (in reply to sarahmsalter @billycoffey I don't need @katdish to vouch for your post, Dude. They stand on their own & prove themselves.)

I'm here! Commence the celebrations

Good Morning! My dog is having an emotional breakdown. I put his (nasty, gross) dog bed in the washing machine.

@myreallips Or a steel trap. One of those...

@myreallips Because I have a mind like a steal trap. (in reply to marni71 @buzzbyannies GAAAA! I thought I told ya'll. How does @katdish know but not the rest of you? I have a complex now.)

@myreallips OOSTA! (in reply to marni71 @sarahmsalter @br8kthru I just like that @Nick_theGeek changed his, so I changed mine. And the story behind it will make @katdish laugh.)

RT @ryanmer: Only 15 minutes until Steve Jobs announces something I can't afford, don't need, and absolutely want.

@DueFriday Nobody beats Jack Bauer (except maybe @billycoffey) (in reply to DueFriday RT @DavidBGoddard The new Apple tablet is rumored to beat Kindle, cancer, Jack Bauer, Chuck Norris & fix the world trade deficit with China.)

I don't think so. Homey don't play that.

So now, if I don't send this heart out to him and everyone else and someone dies, THAT'S ON MY HEAD?

UGH! My dad always sends me these email forwards. Today's: "Give this heart to everyone you don't want to lose in 2010".

Is it just me, or does the Russian boss on 24 look like @badbanana?

@redclaydiaries @Nick_theGeek I'm talking to everyone, because everyone cares.

@katdish Also? I bought space bags today. 20-30 stuffed animals will now fit neatly into the attic.

@sarahmsalter Bribery & ultimatims. The cornerstone of parenting.

@Nick_theGeek Why yes. Yes I am. (in reply to Nick_theGeek @katdish ru painting a big monkey butt on ur daughter's wall?)

I tell my daughter "I want everything off the floor" and I can't really fault her for not following instructions. http://twitpic.com/zrwx8


@mylestones Sort of like when my daughter used to tell me all the time, "Mommy, please stop talking to me."

RT @mylestones: I asked my 5yo son how he would feel about doing school at home & me being his teacher. His one word response: "Bad."

@amysorrells That's called a vurp. (in reply to amysorrells Just turned in passport application. It felt...terrifying...and epic. I think I only threw up a little bit in my mouth, as they say.)

@joannamuses Oh man. I'd have all kinds of awards. (in reply to joannamuses if only society considered being an excellent procrastinator an achievement)

@Nick_theGeek Red Man as in the tobacco, not Native Americans. Just to be clear. (Not that there's anything wrong with that)

@Nick_theGeek Ah yes. The list of tax deductions is growing. Wonder if I should take up a Red Man habit.(in reply to Nick_theGeek @katdish u should look n2 a tax deduction 4 ur cable bill ...)

Watching Hillbilly: The Real Story on The History Channel (client research)

@kristaphillips Ah the beauty of the store is it has both. I think I've said No about 15 times. (in reply to kristaphillips @katdish my daughter gravitates 2 that section the moment we enter the store. She's supposed to want expensive clothes, not stupid crap!)

At Justice with my daughter. Land of crap she doesn't need. http://twitpic.com/zfrdz


"I got kicked out of ballet class because I pulled a groin muscle. It wasn't mine." ~ Rita Rudner

@billycoffey I have a really good feeling about this one. I really do.

RT @billycoffey: Sent a copy of Snow Day to my hero of 25 years for a possible endorsement. Fingers crossed, prayers said.

Dear Person who left me a DM telling me you're looking forward to my tweets. You're not following me, goober.

@marni71 Snort! (in reply to marni71 RT @katdish: Sorry people! I'm busy CHANGING LIVES here!// that's just a day job. Twitter is your ministry. Get your priorities straight.)

Sorry people! I'm busy CHANGING LIVES here!

@Babybloomr Yes, sort of a twirlyworld sisterhood. (in reply to Babybloomr @katdish I totally love your twirly world! I live in twirly world!)

Fave comment today: I had to unfollow you for a bit. The straight tweet world needed to be figured out. Your twirly world confused me...

@billycoffey Tell me something I don't already know. (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Ah. That's my normal.)

@togetherforgood I'm fairly incorrigible...

@billycoffey Tired/snarky/reality based. (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Was that snarky? Because that sounded snarky.)

@billycoffey Yes. It is morning isn't it?

Katdishionary!** Part 2

**Read this really fast in your head:
Katdishionary is the intellectual property of Steph at the Red Clay Diaries (hereinafter referred to as SOTRCD). Reference herein to any specific commercial product, process, service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, does not constitute or imply its endorsement, recommendation, or favoring by SOTRCD or any entities thereof. The views and opinions of the originators expressed therein do not necessarily state or reflect those of the HLAC, SOTRCD, FOTTSP, TWSS or any agency or entities thereof.


Katdishionary – (pronounced ka-di-shun-ary)

Definition: A collection of made up words providing endless blog fodder.

Origin: comment from Steph at the Red Clay Diaries from the first installment of this never-ending series:

“I have to share a brainstorm that came to me in the car, on my way to Starbucks.

The Katdish Dictionary is a nice name for the service you're providing. But a better name would be:

THE KATDISHIONARY.

You can pay me my standard branding fee later.”

(see also badgertastic)

Fatassitosis – (pronounced fat-as-si-to-sis)


Definition: A mutant strain of a virus scientists claim to have recently discovered. Their findings state that obesity can be "caught" as easily as a common cold from other people's coughs, sneezes and dirty hands. The condition has been linked to a highly-infectious virus which causes sniffles and sore throats.

Origin: HLAC’s breaking news story – This just in: I’m not fat, I just have a butt cold!

Kadonkadonk (pronounced ka-don-ka-donk)


Definition: what Sherri's butt says when she walks.

Origin: (see Fatassitosis)

Example: Sherri said: I've been a cold sufferer for years now.

God must have been handing out lots of ample rears in the sixties.
My sister and I got a matching set.
Our sickness was contacted at birth and runs in our Italian family.

I could weigh 79 lbs. and my rear would still be doing the kadonkadonk when I walk.

* I wear lots of long shirts, blazers, etc. to insure proper coverage.

Big AL calls mine the "mystery butt". No one has seen it in years!!!!


Badonkadonk – (pronounced ba-don-ka-donk)


Definition: What Steph’s butt says when she walks.

Origin: (see also fatassitosis)

Example: Steph says: ANOTHER way we are alike. Only my butt says badonkadonk. My sister and I could both weigh next-to-nothing and still have lots of cushioning. My sister was once told by an African-American girl that her butt was awfully big for a white person's.

Italian blood here too.

( ) ( ) ( )


Hmmm…That’s a considerable word count for a post about big butts. Kewl.

And now, let's sing, shall we?

The Long Way Around

My mom and sister live about 20 minutes away from me in a gated community. Between social visits and dog and cat sitting, I’m over there quite a bit. Before my mom gave me a spare remote gate opener, I often felt the drive from my house to the front entrance of their neighborhood was only half the journey. Nowadays, I use the remote and I can enter through the back entrance. Once I gain access through this gate, their house is a mere two turns from my point of entry. It is truly a time and distance saver.

Contrast this to visiting before I had the remote. After pulling up to the main gate, I give the security guard my name, the address I would be visiting and my relationship to the resident. He or she writes down my license and make and model of my car, then phones the house and obtains permission for me to enter the subdivision.

Once through the main gate, I meander through the neighborhood towards the back where my sister’s house is located: left, left, right, left, left, right…A total of ten turns in all before I reach my final destination. Needless to say, I was grateful when my mom gave me the extra gate remote.



On my most recent visit, I again took the shortest route on my way in, but decided to take the long way back out. It’s been a long while since I took this route and I had forgotten all the sights on the way. There are beautiful homes of various styles ranging from southern colonial to Mediterranean splendor. There are small, man-made lakes with graceful fountains in their centers, beautiful landscaping and walking trails throughout. In the center of this community of homes is a large lake flanked on one side with a stacked rock cascading waterfall. It is home to several species of ducks and other water fowl. The stars of this aviary show are the graceful, white swans, which can be found here year round.



I decided to pull my car over and watch them for awhile. As I sat in my car, I thought back to the last time I had driven by this spot. Back then, there were four adult swans and six grey ducklings. I wondered if either of the two swans I saw today were once among the ugly ducklings I saw so many months ago.

I suppose I’ll never know for sure. Because while it’s true the shortest distance between two points is always a straight line, often the long way around is infinitely more interesting and educational.

To reward myself for taking the road less traveled, I got out of my car and chased all the ducks back into the lake. Cuz I’m mature like that…

Daily Miracles (by Michelle DeRusha)

A Massachusetts native, Michelle DeRusha moved to Nebraska in 2001, where she found gargantuan grasshoppers, looming grain elevators and God. She’s raising two rambunctious boys with her husband, Brad; works part-time for Nebraska public television and radio; launders Sponge Bob briefs on a regular basis; and writes about finding faith in the everyday on her blog Graceful and in a monthly column for the Lincoln Journal Star.

***

“The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.” ~ Virginia Woolf

I’m always on the lookout for miracles. The Bible, I’ve noticed, teems with them. A raving lunatic witnesses his demons funnel into a herd of pigs. People rise from the dead and start doing jumping jacks. Peter slides across a roiling sea.

It's not easy for me to choose blessings, miracles, over mere coincidence. In twenty years of “unbelief,” doubt became my natural, instinctive reaction. Doubt was my default. So choosing to see the blessing, the miracle, has had to become a conscious choice, one I make each day.

This fall as I was watering the garden I suddenly heard my son Noah yell: “Quick, Mommy! Come here! Come here! Hurry!” his voice urgent, pressing. I walked over to take a look.

Floating on a gentle current along the tops of the phlox was a most curious bug, a miniscule creature about a quarter the size of my pinkie nail. To me it looked like a thin shred of paper; the kids decided it resembled a teeny piece of Kleenex. The insect bobbed along the bee balm for a bit and then floated over to my sons, navigating its linty body between them, as if to take a closer look at their big bauble heads.

My youngest, Rowan, named the bug “Klee Klee,” the word he uses for Kleenex. We sat on the curb next to the flower garden and marveled at the insect as it gracefully inched its way over the mountainous folds of Rowan’s tee shirt, its snow-white wings wispy and ragged.

I would never have noticed this delicate creature of course, so bent on watering the drooping coneflower and deadheading the bee balm, wrenching the ivy’s suffocating grip off the phlox and pulling the weeds. But the kids insisted I look, squealing and bellowing so persistently I was forced to tune in, if only to quiet the racket.



And when I did I was overwhelmed with gratitude and awe.

In her book Expecting Adam, Martha Beck marvels over her son Adam’s uncanny ability to teach her a fresh way of seeing. “He is constantly reminding me that real magic doesn’t come from achieving the perfect appearance, from being Cinderella at the ball with both glass slippers and a killer hairstyle,” Beck writes about Adam. “The real magic is in the pumpkin, in the mice, in the moonlight; not beyond ordinary life, but within it.”

Sitting on the curb with my two kids, awestruck by Klee Klee -- the delicate ruffle of his body, the gentle tickling of his feet over the fine hairs on Rowan’s arm -- I witnessed God’s way of illuminating the extraordinary within the ordinary. I uncovered real magic. I chose to see the miracle.

***

To read more from Michelle DeRusha, visit her at Graceful and follow her on the twitter at @negraceful.

Keeping the Peace

We do that, don't we? Keep the peace; allow things to go unsaid. We don't rock the boat. Instead we keep our mouths shut and harden our hearts in the process. Thing is, these things left unsaid? We choke them down, hiding them deep. They fester. They grow. Spreading like a cancer, and if we don't treat the root cause they begin to affect every aspect of our lives.

Are you really mad at your wife because she left dishes in the sink?

Is it such a big deal that your husband forgot to pick up the dry cleaning like you asked?

Funny how everything becomes all or nothing: "You NEVER keep this kitchen clean!"

Or: "Why do I ALWAYS have to remind you twice to pick up the dry cleaning?"

Really? Tell me in honestly if your wife has never cleaned the kitchen or that your husband always has to be reminded again and again to run an errand for you. Bet you can't.

But it's so much easier to bitch about dishes and dry cleaning than to be vunerable and say "I don't feel loved. I'm not important to you."

Worse still is not expressing love because you make the assumption that they already know. They might, but everyone needs reassurance.

And remember: Love is a verb, not a noun.

This post is part of the Blog Carnival - Peace - hosted by Bridget Chumbley over at One Word at a Time.

Angela versus the Big Bad (by Billy Coffey)

I’m settling in at the movies with my popcorn and soda in an attempt to escape the world’s dreariness for at least two hours. Which is strange given that I’m about to watch the latest in a long stream of post-apocalyptic movies in which some Big Bad collapses governments, then societies, then people. Lots of movies like that lately, I think to myself, though I’m not sure why. We no longer cast a hopeful eye toward the future. Which I guess says a lot about our present.

The movie starts and the fifty or so people around me munch and gawk. It’s a good movie, really. At least the first part. Halfway through the picture and just as things start to get interesting the sound begins to slur, the picture wobbles, and the screen goes blank.

A chorus of groans ripples through the theater that is followed by an assortment of exhales, some stretching, and a few snide remarks. I sigh and think that I’ll have to wait to see what the end of the world is like.

Maybe. Then again, maybe not.

Because as I sit among all these people and watch their reactions, I get a very small glimpse of it from right where I am.

The Big Bad in this case happens to be a broken projector. Not really Big and not very Bad, but it has on a smaller scale the same effect as machines taking over the world or nuclear fallout—we’re all confused, and no one quite knows what to do now.

But then personalities take over. The Type A’s shoot for the door and the manager, eager to fix the situation. The sanguines in the room remain in their seats, certain that everything will work out in the end. The more pragmatic folks see the interruption as a chance to take a bathroom break without missing any of the movie. And then of course there are the pessimists now voicing their certainty that they are now out of twenty bucks.

The theater manager inches through the door. He looks to be about sixteen and I get the nagging sensation that up until this moment the only crisis he’s had so far today is losing his newest copy of Gamer magazine. He stands where he can make a hasty exit and uses the ponytailed lady from the ticket counter as a human shield, placing her between us. Still, all eyes are on him. He’s the one in charge.

He whispers to Ponytail and turns toward the mob. This, I think, is his time to shine. This is why he wears the suit.

The manager stiffens as he draws in a massive breath, exhales loudly…and leaves.

Ponytail watches him with a look of shock. Evidently her being hung out to dry had not been part of the conversation. But just as I think things are going to turn into something less than fine, she does the unexpected.

She talks.

And better than that, she doesn’t talk to us. She talks with.

She tells us her name is Angela and that everything is being fixed. She asks how the movie is so far and if we need anything. She talks about her children. She tells jokes and listens to ours. She is kind and thoughtful and attentive, both sharing our aggravation and easing it. And when the movie flashes onto the screen again ten minutes later, I swear, I swear, we’re almost sorry.

Angela stays with us for a few minutes to make sure everything’s fine and then makes a quiet exit.

The action resumes on the screen. Lots of explosions and blood and mayhem. But I’m not really thinking of the movie now. I’m thinking this:

I don’t know what’s coming down the road toward us. I don’t know if there’s some Big Bad or when it will happen or what we will do when it gets here. But I do know this—if and when that time comes, the future of our world won’t depend on governments or gun-toting heroes.

It’ll depend on people like the ponytailed lady who collected my ticket. People who take the bad and make it better.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Hope or Hooey?

The following is a post from my friend and pastor Jeff Hogan's blog Convergence from August 17, 2007:

Suffering.

I really don’t have to explain suffering, do I? As soon as I said that word you probably filled in the blanks with your own story of pain, custom fit just for your life. Pain doesn’t care how old we are, or how much money we make, or what kind of car we drive- it sinks its teeth into all of us.

It’s in the sound of the doctor’s voice, saying those words we never wanted to hear.

It’s watching as your Mom and Dad’s marriage falls apart.

It’s in the helplessness of seeing a child slipping away.

It’s hearing the words “I don’t love you anymore.”

These things stack up inside us, and they can make us skeptical to the 2000 year old words of Paul in Romans 8:18 when he says, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

That’s a pretty big statement. If it wasn't in the Bible, it might sound like a bunch of hooey.

Actually, depending on what you're going through right now, it might sound like a bunch of hooey anyway.

At any rate, it makes me think about something that happened a while back.
I eat breakfast every Wednesday with a couple of guys. We usually talk about a book that we’re all reading, but a couple of weeks ago, we just talked about Rose. This wasn’t too hard- Mark had 3 entire albums full of their latest pictures of her.

The photos were from a trip that Mark and his wife Kim had recently taken to Haiti, to spend some more time with their little girl. They knew they wouldn’t be able to take Rose home- but that wasn’t really the point.

Mark and Kim love Rose. She isn’t some abstract concept, like “the orphans of Haiti,” or a name on a support card. She is their daughter. She just doesn’t live with them yet.

Adopting a child from Haiti is a long, expensive process and you have to jump through a lot of hoops. Every day that Mark and Kim spend without Rose is painful. But they continue to hope, and that hope is based in a quiet, confident expectation that it WILL happen. Nothing that Mark and Kim endure today will compare with the day when the adoption is complete and they get to take Rose home.

Do you think that God is any different? Is it any wonder that Paul can say that nothing we endure today is worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us? The hope that he is saying we can have is that same confident expectation that Mark and Kim have about Rose’s adoption. It will happen.

“Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” -Romans 8:23-25

I think that dealing with suffering is infinitely harder when you question if you really matter, and if there’s anything to believe in; to hope for.

The Creator, God of the universe answers both of those questions. He tells us, “You can believe in Me. I didn’t have a beginning, I won’t have an end, and I don’t change. I will be solid for you to hang on to, and I will never leave you, or forsake you."

But He’s also saying, “I believe in you!” “You matter to Me, and I want you as my daughter; as my son.”

If we accept that adoption, then we HAVE to accept the truth that God wants us!

Nothing we endure today will compare with the day when our adoption is complete.

And that's not hooey.


In Him We Live,

Jeff

p.s.- Thanks Mark, for letting me tell your amazing story.

***

UPDATE: Two and a half years later, Rose is still in Haiti with her sister and two brothers waiting to be adopted by Mark and Kim.

And here's the last update from Jeff:

Kim is in Haiti at the orphanage with the kids- they are all safe for the time being. Though he was still waiting for word directly from her today, the last update I've seen on Mark's facebook is, "I heard through Vicki & Dave Warner (Kim's boss) that Kim is doing well and is very, very, very happy to be with all the kids at Lashbrook Family Ministries - Haiti in Port de Paix." The plan was for Kim to stay and help at the orphanage while Mark continued his fight stateside to secure humanitarian visa's for all four children. Kim told him, "I don't want to come home without our kids."

This adoption process has been long journey and just because Kim is with the children now, it doesn't mean it's a done deal. Would you please continue to pray for this family and others who just want to bring their kids home to a loving family? I know they would greatly appreciate it.

A Tribute to Hot Dogs

(This picture reminded me that I haven't ranted incessantly about Martha Stewart in awhile. I shall have to remedy this situation very soon.)

My post on Thursday, The Katdish Dictionary Part 1 caused me to wax poetic about a time before most of us from The Fellowship of the Traveling Smartypants were on the twitter. FOTTSP was like our own personal twitter without the 140 character limitation. Good times.

Anyhoo, I decided to go back through some old posts and I found this wonderful tribute to hot dogs from Celine Dion:



Aren't you glad you stopped by? Sorry/You're welcome.

***

For a complete list of the assorted mixed bag of nuts who contribute to The Fellowship, click on the link and check the sidebar. And if you think my sidebars are crowded, you ain't seen nothing yet!

Fear not, Maya Angelou

I am not a poet. There, I said it. I read beautiful words strung together on other blogs and think, I could never do that. But that didn't stop my poet friends from inviting me to participate in the TweetSpeak Poetry Jam on Tuesday night. So they get started. And I'm reading these tweets. And I'm waiting. Do you remember the feeling you had on the playground when you were supposed to make it into the jump rope that was already moving? And you keep standing there waiting for the right moment and thinking to yourself, "This could end very badly?" Yeah, that was me. I finally jumped in, and am proud to report that I made it through 2 tweets before I tweeted "That's what she said". What can I say? I gotta be me.

Glynn Young of Faith, Fiction and Friends gathered up all these tweets from several different participants, and with some editing, managed to put together a very fine poem for TweetSpeak Poetry entitled Adam and Even by the Narrow Lake. Here are my poignant contributions:

Well, I think I've done enough damage here. Gotta go write a guest post intro.

and then the customer doth say/Can I get fries with that shake? #tsp

and words sometimes doth twist/the fingers too #tsp

the black keys dance/though flat and sharp #tsp

and while the upon the white keys the petals fell silent/the black keys?/Not so much...#tsp

@sarahmsalter Okay, well the tangled part wasn't mine, just the nonsense. Go figure. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish Can I use that line sometime? The tangled nonsense part? That's AWESOME!)

@Doallas If by "no" you mean "yes", then "no" (in reply to Doallas we do get dramatic, no? #tsp)

@BridgetChumbley A rose by any other name, is still a rose. Besides, I can't help myself. TWSS.( in reply to BridgetChumbley @katdish I was about to tell you how proud I was of you for attempting this... then I saw that tweet & all went out the window! ;)

@redclaydiaries Thanks. I was hoping you would catch that. (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish SNORT. Thanks for taking over the crazy for me.)

and in the tangled nonsense, one voice cried out, That's what she said #tsp

and rainbows rays reflected upon surfaces shone hope to those who witnessed #tsp

Eve, hangs her head, in the shame of not being poetic #tsp

@gyoung9751 It's all a matter of emphasis. (in reply to gyoung9751 @katdish I got that line - it's great -- but is Gaaa spelled with 2 or 3 a's?)

@Doallas Gaaa! I am so out of my league here... (in reply to Doallas @katdish are you joining us for poetry jam #tsp)

And here's the rest of the best of me (or not) on the twitter this week:

RT @PuriChristos: Your mum's at the door again. Bury me. Bury me deep. (I've had this dream)

@binaspad Well I'll just have to come up w/some equally disturbing images for next week. (in reply to binaspad @katdish re:it will change your life. meat puppets are dancing in my mind even tho I bid them to stop. *sigh*)

@redclaydiaries I liked (among others) "Put the lobster down. Put it down!" (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish rolley pony PONY.... Splat!)

@redclaydiaries I AM CRYING I'm laughing so hard - reading that sleep talkin' man blog.

@JeffHolton Sort of like a train wreck, isn't it? (in reply to JeffHolton One of the worst posts I've ever read, but I'm still unable to resist sharing. :) From the amazing @katdish... http://bit.ly/7oUiUP)

Snort! RT @Helenatrandom: @Brian_Russell Do not unfollow ME? I will make you pay if you do. I am friends with @katdish. Nuff said...

@amysorrells You know, the monkey butt pic sort of looks like a flower, if you squint real hard. in reply to amysorrells @katdish I like your style, but I refuse to put meat puppets on any kind of sidebar button. Unless it has a rose on it or damask of course.)

RT @joannesher: My daughter:''our oven is hotter than florida!

@amysorrells That's called "branding" Amy. Katdish style! (in reply to amysorrells @katdish I can't get those meat puppets out of my head. Or that monkey. They are forever seared upon my tender brain tissue.)

@amysorrells Sorry/you're welcome. (in reply to amysorrells @katdish Yeah, THAT's the quote I want to be known for through the generations . . .)

"Holy monkey-butt-meat-puppet, Batman!" ~ @amysorrells

@Helenatrandom Morning! I suppose I could have found some headcheese puppets. But then I would have thrown up on my computer.

Yes, that's fine, b/c my ego can take it RT @billycoffey: @JeanneDamoff But you like me more than @katdish, don't you? It's okay to say it.

@JeanneDamoff Aw, thanks Jeanne! Happy dancing! in reply to JeanneDamoff @katdish @billycoffey Thanks for the RTs. Also, you are two of my favorite people. Have a beautiful day.)

Is it a good or a bad sign when you're writing a blog post and cracking yourself up?

Dog day afternoon http://twitpic.com/yyeoh


@Doallas Oh, trust me...you should be grateful. Did I mention I used to work in the oil & gas industry? In Texas? Nuff said.

@Doallas Which reminds me of an airline joke, which I cannot share.

@Doallas Of course I do. (in reply to Doallas @katdish The @thetwitcleaner? You do realize that middle word has at least two other meanings.)

I'm utilizing @thetwitcleaner to lay down the unfollow hammer. If you feel my unfollow is in error, please let me know.

(I do, don't I?) RT @amysorrells: So grateful to @katdish because she ROCKS!!!

Favorite keyword search of the month for HLAC: "Lo, I have a painful disease in my loins"

@HeatheroftheEO Paranoia and self doubt? You're a born writer! (in reply to HeatheroftheEO @warmchocmilk @katdish yes, yes. You're right. Just paranoia setting in. I need more to do or something. :)

What am I supposed to do with THIS? - RT @PeterPollock: @katdish I don't love/hate you. There's one of those which I definitely don't do!

@CandySteele Follow Friday is not the boss of me. (in reply to CandySteele @katdish what is this, #followwednesday ?)

Previous tweet translated: Keep it under 800 words, people!

RT @prodigaljohn: Write your blog as if you're asking someone to share the most precious resource they have. Because you are. Time.

@BridgetChumbley You should have some protein. Perhaps dip them in peanut butter? (in reply to BridgetChumbley @katdish I'm breaking open the box of Lemon-Heads...)

@Mami_Picture Low carb monster and a protein bar. I'm devastatingly lazy when it comes to preparing food.( in reply to Mami_Picture @katdish so what's 4 lunch?)

@BridgetChumbley Kay. I just had a blue monster and a protein bar. Cuz I'm fancy. (in reply to BridgetChumbley @makeadiff21 But of course... and @katdish I'm hungry too... let's do lunch!)

@CandySteele You like me...you really, really like me

@annkroeker Well, let's just stop then. I don't want his head getting too big for that cowboy hat. (in reply to annkroeker @katdish Guess we all recognize a good thing when we read it.... This is turning into a gushing @billycoffey stream of posts.)

@annkroeker Oh, y'all found @billycoffey first. I'm just BeBe to his Frazier Crane. (in reply to annkroeker @katdish Same thing @highcallingblog where @billycoffey works his word-magic. Thanks for sharing him!)

@chrissulli You'll have to take that up with @peterpollock. He love/hates me. (in reply to chrissulli @billycoffey egh, I'm bored out of my mind. I can't even get @katdish to let me build her a website for free)

@sarahmsalter Oh, I didn't see his last tweet. I unfollowed him. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish You're welcome. And if you want, I'll help you beat up @billycoffey. Especially after his latest particularly snotty comment.)

So, @billycoffey's guest post on my blog always get more hits than mine. But I'm not bitter...

@marni71 It can't be done without laying down the unfollow hammer.( in reply to marni71 @billycoffey Let me know how ignoring @katdish works out for you.)

@billycoffey Oh, like that's possible... (in reply to billycoffey @marni71 Thank you, Marni. I'm ignoring @katdish.)

@billycoffey Sit down and take a break. You're so needy... (in reply to billycoffey @mylestones @weightwhat @katdish @sarahmsalter @br8kthru @marni71 Would someone please tell me to sit down and take a break?)

@marni71 No. He's just stubborn. Sort of runs in the family. (in reply to marni71 @katdish Are you staring at him? Maybe he has stage fright....)

Right now I'm waiting for my dog to take care of business, and lamenting the fact that I still don't own a starter pistol.

Okay, I gotta go. Someone's cracking a redneck whip in my general direction.

Don't taze me bro! #24

I have a date with Jack Bauer...chat later.

@amysorrells If your cake has a crust, I don't know if frosting is your biggest issue.

@amysorrells Then we can't work together...( in reply to amysorrells @katdish I refuse to change my profile pic to me in a cowboy hat. Ever. I have my limits. Just so you know.)

@marni71 She should follow me on Twitter. (in reply to marni71 @katdish Dumb counselor. If only she could see you now! )

@buzzbyannies @marni71 And my high school guidance counselor told me being a smart @$$ was not a marketable skill...

@marni71 "Juob" is French for "Job"

@marni71 Oh, I'm not off either. Being an internet tornado is a full time juob.

Oh...em....gee...Taking a breath between 24 episodes. Oops! Gotta go!

Oh, wait....24 is on! Forget this show

I'm watching The Human Target, starring that dude from the 1st 3 seasons of Boston Legal & guest starring a kid from The Bad News

Making a grocery list on my iphone I cannot type the word "banana" w/o breaking into a Gwen Stephani song.

Ladies, if you're going to be a lush, at least be a fashionable one. http://twitpic.com/yiuv7


@ryanmer You're a rather angry librarian... (in reply to ryanmer I SHOULD be happy that so many people are at the library on a Saturday, but instead I just want to scream obscenities & punch people.)

Again, Sorry/you're welcome. Happy Friday!

The Katdish Dictionary - Part One

Two things precipitated the writing of this post (or rather, series of posts). The first was a text message from a friend of mine. She had sent me a message, to which my response to her was, “Gaaa!” Which I thought clearly communicated my reaction to her previous text. Knock me over with a feather when she texted me back, “Gaaa?” To my thinking, “Gaaa!” is rather self-explanatory. But perhaps not…

Next, I received an email from an author asking if I would read and review his upcoming book. (No, not that author – I’ve already read that one and it’s frigintastic.) Here’s a brief excerpt from the correspondence:

“And you’re clearly the first person I’ve come across who has a “I big red monkey butt heart twitter” tag. So you win—not sure what, but you win nonetheless!”

So that got me to thinking (always dangerous territory) about how often I use phrases and acronyms here and on twitter under the assumption that everyone knows what I’m talking about. But clearly, that is not always the case. Seriously, unless you’ve been reading my blog for the past 8 months or so, how could you possibly know what PCB stood for? Or know that “I big red monkey butt heart you” is a sign of endearment?

See there? Two hundred words into this post and I’ve already used four phrases and/or words that yet to make it into Webster’s. Which is why I feel a certain duty (ha! she said duty) to give definitions, and where applicable (read: if I can remember), the origins of said phrases, acronyms and words.

Ahem! And now Part One of an endless and ever growing series:

The Katdish Dictionary

Gaaa! – (pronounced gaaa!)

Definition - An expression of shock, disgust or horror.

Origin: unknown.

Example: Hey look! Meat Puppets!

Response: Gaaa!
(Seriously – is that not self-evident?)

Frigintastic – (pronounced fri-gin-ta-stic)

Definition: Really, very super fantastic and/or awesome.

Origin: Nick the Geek, in his post Too Much to Talk about.

Example: “MY wife says I say awesome too much and started taking points away for saying it. She is right but I still like the word. I’m gonna start saying “frigintastic” instead. She will long for the days when everything was awesome.”

“I big red monkey butt heart…”

Definition - a term of endearment or strong affection for someone or something.

Origin: This explanation is a bit more complex.

The story begins to unfold with a post on The Fellowship of the Traveling Smartypants post, Cremation, anyone? This was a post noted not so much for its content, but for the epic comments that ensued – a grand total of 107. A fairly impressive number by most standards, until you realize that the comments were made by a handful of people leaving multiple comments back and forth.

Read it.

It’s life changing.

Anyhoo, Nick started out the post apologizing for the post being in bad taste (which is ironic, because that blog is all about bad taste), and quickly spiraled down from there.

At some point, I happened to mention I was going to the Houston Zoo the next day and did anyone have any practical jokes to play on zoo animals? A conversation about flinging monkey poo ensued. Alas, the following day I posted It’s on like Donkey Kong with the following picture:

Shortly thereafter, Sherri complained, "Speaking of images....katdish, this particular monkey image is freaking me out when I come here. DO you have a different one you can replace it with?"

So I changed the picture to this:

To which my friend Shark Bait commented, “I think I want the scary monkey back now.”
Around this same time, the phrase “I pink fuzzy heart you” was making its way around our blogging community. But I felt we at the FOTTSP needed our own spin on this phrase. That’s where “I big red monkey butt heart you” came from. Sorry/you’re welcome.

PCB – acronym for Pornographic Cheese Butler

Seemingly gracious wine and cheese steward from this angle, right? Not so fast!

Definition – A life sized statue of a butler once used in wine and cheese displays at the local Kroger grocery store. Unfortunately, the artist responsible for creating the PCB neglected to give him any pants. Hence the “pornographic” part. Thankfully, he was wearing a long apron covering his frontsettes. (We will cover frontsettes in a later edition.)

This concludes this edition of the Katdish dictionary. You have no idea how many of these things I can churn out. So in advance I just want to say again, sorry/you’re welcome.

What's in His Name? (by Kelly Langner Sauer)

Kelly Langner Sauer is a wife, mother, writer, poet, photographer and a self confessed rambler. Her photos are, much like her writing, often beautiful, soulful and breathtaking. I am so pleased she agreed to write a post for me in the midst of the joy and chaos of new motherhood. Here's Kelly:




Her name was Bethany.

It was such a big deal that her name was Bethany. It still stands out in my mind. I get into names.

She said that God had given her that name.

She said that she had known God intimately, the way I wanted to know Him.

She said that God had taught her to surrender fully and completely.

She said a lot of things.

But she never mentioned the name of Jesus.

...

Just over a year ago, I received an email from a reader, asking me about the poem I have posted on my blog by S. Lewis. (The poem was written and given to me by a dear college friend during a very rough time in my story, during the beginning of the end of my misconception of God.) She identified with my then-description of myself as Gomer, Hosea's wife.

And she referenced something I had said in a recent ramble-post, something I was chewing on, something I had scribbled out without too much thought, something about God calling us to do things sometimes that the rest of the world couldn't endorse.

I had been talking about His calling on my life to love someone. I had been talking about His leading me out of "church" and into Himself.

I was neck-deep in a Flickr addiction at the time. Closed off to my husband. Putting off my daughter. Battling every day to do better before I inevitably gave in and gave out and gave up. Pushing God away for the guilt of it all. The crushing guilt.

At first, Bethany's email was another distraction. A flattering distraction. I pursued the correspondence, looking for more affirmation, looking for her story.

I got her story all right.

And then some.

...

She said she was a member of what many have termed a cult.

She said she felt she could talk to me because it seemed I was the kind of person who was willing to listen.

She said God had told her it was all right.

She gave me the website for her organization.

After looking at it, my husband and I agreed with the many.

And we weren't so certain that God was behind her invitation to engage her in conversation about her "church."

In fact, I was certain that I was not to engage her. God gave me permission only to speak the name of Jesus.

...

Billy Coffey wrote about the thin places this week. The places where dark and light collide and mix into inky halflight, the places in our world where there is a crack into another world, the places in ourselves not yet yielded to God in this war between principalities and powers in the strongholds of the spiritual.

I was living in a thin place when Bethany wrote to me.

I had been too willing to pursue knowing God because it was the right thing to do, too willing to leave off Jesus because speaking of Him made me uncomfortable. Embarrassed.

I was living on the edge, and I had no response to her "have you ever surrendered your whole life to God?" I had no answer for her, "I have done that, you can too, if you'll just do what I did."

For two days, my husband and I talked. And talked. And talked. Our conversation was long and deep. We talked about spiritual warfare. We talked about who I was in God, about my misdirected passion. We talked about my failure. I named it as the sin it was. We talked about grace. We talked about Jesus.

...

Her name was Bethany, a name given to her by the spirit who possessed her.

Her testimony was her surrender, her "higher" right, her knowledge of "God."

My testimony was Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

I had no answer to her story, to her argument, to her deception.

I had no justification for my own sin, my lack of surrender, my thin-place-dwelling.

She needed nothing more than what she had found.

I needed everything. It was a choking, desperate need for redemption.

...

This is how I learned about the Gospel. This is how I encountered the Truth who is the Way and the Life, the Word who became flesh in the person of Jesus Christ, the Lamb who was slain for my justification, from whose hand I can not be removed. This is how I began to speak the name of Jesus, to discern the Holy Spirit from the subtle lies of other spirits.

Bethany had obtained the ultimate surrender. She had become a slave to her god. She was moved by a spirit. She had fellowship with something more powerful than herself.

I had not surrendered everything to God. I still haven't. I still struggle to offer myself willingly to Him, to let go of the things in me that would identify me as a slave to righteousness. I don't always recognize the leading of the Holy Spirit in my life. I don't always feel the nearness of God-fellowship that I want.

But I know this: I am justified in Jesus. Because of Him, I reckon myself dead to sin and alive to God. I am already crucified with Christ, yet I live. My faith is not something I have dredged up through trying to have more faith. It is the gift of God. My redemption comes by this faith in the Son of God who became sin for me.

I still sin. I still fail Him, fail my family, fail myself. I am every day desperate in need of a Savior.

...

Her name was Bethany, "house of figs."

Jesus cursed a fig tree once for bearing no fruit.

My name is Kelly, "warrior."

Kelly Anne.

Anne means "grace."

His name is Jesus. Immanuel.

"God with us."

...

"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies.


Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died — more than that, who was raised to life — is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?


"As it is written:

'For your sake we face death all day long;

we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.'


No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."


- Romans 8:31-39

(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

***

To read more from Kelly, I invite you to visit her at This Restless Heart and follow him on the twitter at @arestlessheart.

Being Useful

“Hope your folks don’t mind me doing this!”

The garage door of our house sits approximately 150 feet from the street of a quiet neighborhood. So when I saw an elderly gentleman sitting in a golf cart behind my car, I was a little taken aback. I motioned both my kids to get into the car.

“Can I help you with something, sir?”

“Well, I was just telling your son, I like to do what I can to help keep the neighborhood looking nice. I don’t breathe so well sometimes, but when I’m feeling good and the weather cooperates, I like to get out of the house. If it’s alright with you, I hope you don’t mind if I pick up your garbage cans from the curb and bring them back up for you. Would that be okay?”

My internal conversation went a little like this:

“I have 12 minutes to get to an appointment 10 minutes away. What’s the fastest way to get this man off my driveway so I can get out of here? Decision time. Do I do what is expedient, or do I do what is courteous?”

“My name’s Kathy. Nice to meet you.”

“Name’s Byron. Byron White. I live with my daughter in the house by the horse stables.”

We talked for a few minutes. I told him that of course it was okay if he picked up my garbage cans and that it was very much appreciated. He told me again that he sometimes has trouble breathing, so he won’t always be able to pick up the garbage cans, but weather and health permitting, he would do so every Monday and Thursday. He likes to do what he can. I thanked him kindly again and he drove off down the driveway to provide the same service to the neighbors across the street.

Yes, we were late to the orthodontist, but only by about three minutes. My son checked himself in on the computer in the lobby and proceeded to brush his teeth at one of the four sinks in the theatre/media room. (This is a very swanky place. They don’t call them million dollar smiles for nothing.) Meanwhile, I get comfy in one of the plush couches in the waiting room and pull out my handy dandy notebook to write a story about my neighbor Byron.

About a paragraph into my story, I see a little boy about 3 years of age come running up to the cooler located beneath the plasma TV in front of me (again – swanky). He opens the door, pulls out a small bottled water and runs towards the media room. I watch him with growing amusement as he repeats this process four times. On his fifth visit, he is accompanied by a very apologetic looking father who is carrying two water bottles, which he replaces after his son takes out another.

My daughter, who had been watching a movie, comes out and tells me there is a little boy in there that keeps asking her to play a game with her. “Did he give you some water?” I asked, smiling. “Yes!", she said. "He got EVERYONE a water!”

The very young and the very old often operate under the same principal. They want to matter. They need to know that while they can’t do everything, they most certainly can do some things.

I think it would serve us all well to remember that no matter where we are in life; no matter our age or circumstance, every one of us can be useful in some way. Just as every one of us can be grateful to and for one another.

Haiti, Pat Robertson, and the Thin Places (by Billy Coffey)

AP Photo/Jorge Cruz


I could not help but think of my grandfather as the aftermath of Haiti’s earthquake was relayed on the evening news. Could not help but wonder what he would say about what had happened. I wondered, too, what he would do. He said he would never return there and kept that promise, but in many ways his heart beat for the Haitian people. A part of me thought something on this scale might have drawn him back to the place that almost killed him. The place he warned me never to visit.

My grandfather travelled the world for most of his adult life as a missionary, visiting the remote villages and enduring the third world conditions of far-flung places not just for his love for people or even God. No, it was his love for adventure that took him behind the Iron Curtain, into Africa, and—twice—to Turkey in search of Noah’s ark.

But it was Haiti that captured his wanderlust the most, that tiny half of a tiny island that was so crowded and, back then, so forgotten. That was where he spent most of his time. He would write me letters and I would devour them, studying not just the smooth cursive handwriting but the stamp and the postmark and the envelope itself, worn and frayed as though it had passed through entire worlds to reach me.

The stories he told bordered on fantasy—villages in the grip of madmen, ritualized rape, and lives stripped bare to the point where the essentials had become excess.

He witnessed acts that defied both reason and physics performed in the name of unnamable spirits. Spoke of zombies and ghosts and curses.

Haiti was a place of wildness, he wrote. And it was also full of the most beautiful and caring people he’d ever met.

Yet twice he had been threatened by voodoo priests who saw his presence in their villages as a threat to their authority. Twice he escaped. He was a smart one, my grandfather. And no doubt protected by powers greater than darkness.

It was on a mission trip there in the mid-eighties that he disappeared. Authorities found his Jeep abandoned in the middle of a field. There were no footprints or tire tracks. No witnesses. The State Department was contacted, who then reached out to the American embassy. For three days our family waited and prayed for news.

On that third day my grandfather walked into a village sixty miles from where he’d last been seen, confused and shaken but otherwise in good health. He was questioned by both the Haitian police and the State Department, but those interviews proved fruitless. My grandfather never told them where he had been or what had happened. Never told his family, either. And he never returned to Haiti.

A few weeks before he died he pulled me aside during a family meal for questions that were short and ordinary—how’s school? Baseball? Are you still praying every day? He nodded and smiled, satisfied. And then his face grew serious, almost fearful, and he spoke to me the last words I’d ever hear him say:

“The world is a wonderful place, Billy. You should see as much of it as you can. But never go to Haiti. Promise me.”

I did. I still do.

I suppose if anyone would know the truth (or lack thereof) of what Pat Robertson said last week, it would be my grandfather. I’m sorry he’s gone. Sorrier today. But I’ve spent the better part of today remembering those letters and the way he talked about the Haitians, and I know what he would have said.

He would have said there are people who like the idea of a vengeful God as long as that vengeance is directed at someone else. He would have also said that Christianity is best defined not by what its adherents should believe, but what they do with that belief. It’s the love they display and the help they provide, regardless of where that love and help is needed.

He would have indeed said that Haiti has its evils. There are thin places in this world where other worlds meet and linger, and those are the places that must be tread upon lightly. Haiti is a thin place. But he would also say there are thin places within each of us as well, where good and evil clash and struggle.

Yes, he would say, Haiti is dark. But so are we.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

***

And to read ways you can help with the relief and rescue effort in Haiti, please visit my friend Maurenn Doallas at Writing without Paper

Evidence for God

An excerpt from The Reason for God by Timothy Keller

Evil and Suffering May be (If Anything) Evidence for God

"Horrendous, inexplicable suffering, though it cannot disprove God, is nonetheless a problem for the believer in the Bible. However, it is perhaps an even greater problem for nonbelievers. C. S. Lewis described how he had originally rejected the idea of God because of the cruelty of life. Then he came to realize that evil was even more problematic for his new atheism. In the end, he realized that suffering provided a better argument for God's existence than one against it:

My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of "just" and "unjust"?...What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?...Of course I could have given up my idea of justice by saying it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that, then my argument against God collapsed too--for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my private fancies...Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple.

Lewis recognized that modern objections to God are based on a sense of fair play and justice. People, we believe, ought not to suffer, be excluded, die of hunger or oppression. But the evolutionary mechanism of natural selection depends on death, destruction and violence of the strong against the weak--these things are all perfectly natural. On what basis, then, does the atheist judge the natural world to be horribly wrong, unfair, and unjust? The nonbeliever in God doesn't have a good basis for being outraged at injustice, which, as Lewis points out, was the reason for objecting to God in the first place. If you are sure that this natural world is unjust and filled with evil, you are assuming the reality of some extra-natural (or supernatural) standard by which to make your judgement. The philosopher Alvin Plantinga said it like this:

Could there really be any such thing as a horrifying wickedness [If there were no God and we just evolved]? I don't see how. There can be such a thing only if there is a way that rational creatures are supposed to live, obliged to live...A [secular] way of looking at the world has no place for genuine moral obligation of any sort...and thus no way to say there is such a thing as genuine and appalling wickedness. Accordingly, if you think there really is such a thing as horrifying wickedness (...and not just an illusion of some sort), then you have a powerful...argument [for the reality of God].

In short, the problem of tragedy, suffering, and injustice is a problem for everyone It is at least as big a problem for non belief in God as for belief. It is therefore a mistake, though an understandable one, to think that if you abandon belief in God it somehow makes the problem of evil easier to handle."

Dr. Keller's argument thus far may sound cold and irrelevant to the real life sufferer. Later in the chapter, he continues:

"...for every one story in which evil turns out for good there are one hundred in which there is no conceivable silver lining..."So what if suffering and evil doesn't logically disprove God?" such a person might say. "I'm still angry. All this philosophizing does not get the Christian God 'off the hook' for the world's evil and suffering!" In response the philosopher Peter Kreeft points out that the Christian God came to earth to deliberately put himself on the hook of human suffering. In Jesus Christ, God experienced the greatest depths of pain. Therefore, though Christianity does not provide the reason for each experience of pain, it provides deep resources for actually facing suffering with hope and courage rather than bitterness and despair."

The Return of the Pornographic Cheese Butler

It was sort of stroll down memory lane on the twitter this week. The topic of an old post of mine came up (I do not heart grocery shopping - which was the introduction of the Pornographic Cheese Butler), and after tweeting with @marni71 and @HelenatRandom, for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to sell muumuus with heart-shaped monkey butts on the back. Yeah...I'm weird. But you probably already figured that out by now.

The best of me (or not) on the twitter this week:

Sigh...I should probably go for awhile. I got my eliptical (sp?) trainer back yesterday. So far, so good. No clothes hanging off of it yet.

@Helenatrandom @weightwhat must be giving google kickbacks. Perhaps in bra snacks...

@br8kthru Do you know what that pathetic apology needs? A ham sandwich... (in reply to br8kthru @marni71 sorry, how about this: PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE TELL ME YOUR STORY? PLEASE? any better?)

RT @marni71: @br8kthru That didn't sound enthusiastic enough. I rescind the offer. Go eat your sandwich you dream crusher.

Yeah...I have a lot of free time...

So, I googled PCB, and @weightwhat 's post came up first: Are bra snacks kosher?

@marni71 You know...the true pioneers in any field are never appreciated until they're gone. I feel their pain. (in reply to marni71 And NOW I'm being followed by cross-stitchers and people who make scarves. I blame @katdish.)

So @TheTwitCleaner gives me a list of people called "These people ignore you". Boy, that's an ego booster...

And the follow-up PCB Post http://bit.ly/6NT4tj

The infamous PCB Post: http://katdish.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-do-not-heart-grocery-shopping.html

@billycoffey Come on. That day has to rank pretty high on the "bestest day ever" scale. (in reply to billycoffey @Helenatrandom No. @katdish left a snarky comment on my blog and I followed her to hers. It was all quite shocking.)

@marni71 I'm on my second one today. Three is too many, one not enough. (in reply to marni71 @katdish OH DUH! Told you I was slow. I need a blue Monster...)

@marni71 I think @billycoffey meant a board that you smash crickets with. (in reply to marni71 @billycoffey That was my personal fave too ;-) The Pakistani are known for their refined games of cricket.)

@marni71 I'd watch that episode for sure.

RT @marni71: @katdish We could consult with the Dog Whisperer. It would look good on his resume.

@marni71 Also wondering if you could get a baboon to sit still long enough to get a clean impression.

@marni71 I wonder if I could borrow a baboon from the zoo and have them stamped? (in reply to @marni71@katdish But if you offered to autograph them, we could sell at least 12 I think )

Oooo! New hashtag! #SnowDay about 7 hours ago from TweetDeck

RT @FaithWords: Rt: @billycoffey @DueFriday: Sending out @billycoffey's debut novel, SNOW DAY, for endorsements! #SnowDay

@marni71 @Helenatrandom Okay, just envisioned a muumuu with a heart shaped monkey butt on the back.

@marni71 You know, we could seriously make some t-shirts. At least 10 people would buy them. (in reply to marni71 @BridgetChumbley Yes, yes I am. That and cross stitch pillows. They'll be on mine and @katdish 's new etsy site.)

RT @Helenatrandom: Today I am grateful for having a cute avatar....

@gyoung9751 Yes, Glynn, but my dog loves them. Don't be a hater. (in reply to gyoung9751 RT @katdish Eating chex mix & giving the pretzels to my dog. Cuz I'm generous like that... / And you don't like the pretzels.)

@Helenatrandom Amazingly...no. (in reply to Helenatrandom @katdish Hasn't the Wordy McTypelot thing been working out?)

@Helenatrandom Well, there you go. Who needs a book deal? (Although I am entertaining any and all offers...) (in reply to Helenatrandom @katdish We could sell them on FOTTSP!!! And NtG hats that say "Think Geek", and muumuu's with chopped veggie pattern saying "Salsa Anyone")

@BridgetChumbley You just have to ask yourself WWKD? I think @marni71 is working on some bracelets. (in reply to BridgetChumbley @katdish Do you teach classes? You know I've always been a BIG fan...)

@BridgetChumbley It is if you're me. (in reply to BridgetChumbley RT @katdish: @makeadiff21 Let me put it another way. I don't want them all up in my business. // Is that an option?!)

@makeadiff21 Yes. That's what I'm saying. My family is a great source of blog fodder. I need to freedom to write about them w/o fear. (in reply to makeadiff21 @katdish @Helenatrandom Are you saying you live your lives in compartments? What are you hiding from ppl???)

Okay...My Uncle Franklin just became my facebook friend. And you people wonder why I don't link my blog on facebook...

@PuriChristos You're about as subtle as a freight train, Nick. (in reply to PuriChristos I had an epic idea just now. Waiting to hear from @ProdigalJohn to see what he thinks. He should check his email if he reads this)

RT @DueFriday: Sending out @billycoffey's debut novel, SNOW DAY, for endorsements!

Care no more for the opinion of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.~Mansfield

@the_original_xy That's a challenge. Hate is so much sexier & more newsworthy than love & grace. (in reply to the_original_xy @katdish then you non-crazies have to start being louder to drown out the crazies.)

And I pray that people would understand that one Christian does not speak for all of us.

As Christians, I honestly wish people knew more about what we're for than what we are against...

#SCL Snobbery: You see people making up definitions w/word verifications & think to yourself, "That is SO 6 months ago!"

Squirrel? http://twitpic.com/xx4jf


@marni71 We should set up an etsy account. (in reply to marni71 @katdish I think I just found my new cross-stitch pillow quote!

@marni71 Me too. Silver linings and snark. It's a rare and beautiful thing. (in reply to marni71 @katdish I feel it's God's way of rewarding me for not dying. Silver lining...I'm all about the silver lining.)

@billycoffey It doesn't suck... (in reply to billycoffey @katdish It must be great to live your life.)

@billycoffey I can't be bothered with details. That's your job. (in reply to billycoffey @katdish You know all those Tannenbaum's ended up in the hospital, right?)

@billycoffey That's unacceptable. Tannen-baum! Tannen-baum! (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Yes. So far it's a draw.)

@billycoffey Hey there. Fighting the Resistance this morning?

@makeadiff21 Oh, I have plenty of weird followers already

RT @buzzbyannies: I am not quite sure why Boz looks so worried. He's driven with me a million times....http://bit.ly/792j6L #scaredycat


@sarahmsalter My people are working on the prototype. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish You know, if you could figure out a way to bottle that snarkiness and sell it, you could probably make some good money...)

@sarahmsalter fajita taco.( in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish Buenas dias!)

Although I don't always floss...

Pretty much love God, floss, and post at 12:01 AM CST.

I'm tempted to post early, because my post goes with @brian_russell's post. But I follow so few rules, I feel compelled to stick to them.

@mdgoodyear Marcus, I think I have some time share opportunities you may be interested in. (in reply to mdgoodyear @katdish I confess, I love this *as seen on tv* thing => http://bit.ly/6g8jIz)

@LynnRush OH WOW! That's just AWESOME! (in reply to LynnRush I feel like I've entered the Twilight Zone. . . . I'm looking at my first book contract right now. . .)

Sigh...I've decided against my better judgment to get dressed. I have to go to the bank & I don't think they want to see me in my pjs.

RT @AmberAusten: Haha, RT Organizing my tupperware/gladware/rubbermaid cabinet. I have found the end of the universe. (via @rocksinmydryer)

@billycoffey Some things are just God given gifts... (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Oh wow. I'd like everyone to know I did NOT train your ego...)

@sarahmsalter Um...scuse me @billycoffey trained ME? You mean like Jay Leno trained Johnny Carson?

@sarahmsalter @billycoffey is right. When he found me I was a quiet, shy demure little blogger. (in reply to sarahmsalter@billycoffey Now, Billy. You have to be willing to share @katdish's gifts and talents with the world.)

@billycoffey Mwha ha ha! (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Okay, now that's just wrong.)

@billycoffey I'm sorry, what? Wait...I have to take a call from another client. (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Then it better not be work for ME.)

@billycoffey I'm doing work, but it's probably not that important... (in reply to billycoffey @katdish You're lazy. Don't you have work to do?)

Speaking purely hypothetically of course - at what point in the day do you decide instead of getting dressed you simply stay in your pjs?

@poemsandprayers And yes. I am. Proudly so. (in reply to poemsandprayers @katdish smart ass)

@poemsandprayers I'm not talking about legitimate groups, I'm talking about the "I Love Ranch Dressing" groups. (Of which, I am a member.) (in reply to poemsandprayers @katdish guess im a little touchy about the facebook group thing)

Do you know what this world needs? More groups on Facebook...(yes, I'm being sarcastic)

I put a bird feeder outside the window of my office. I find it relaxing watching the birds whilst my dog barks incessantly at them.

@sarahmsalter I am SO getting you a poo purse. (in reply to sarahmsalter @weightwhat Well, my birthday is the 31st. But please don't get me a poo purse. Thank you.)

@Brian_Russell Stop being a slave to your analytics. Just write and create. You're welcome.

@weightwhat Well, just don't google yourself again. (in reply to weightwhat @katdish Thank Gumby! I thought I was going to have to TWSS myself again. TWSS.)

@weightwhat TWSS (in reply to weightwhat My hangtags are going to be so cute!!!)

@shrinkingcamel I never know what I'm doing. You get used to it. (in reply to shrinkingcamel @katdish I'm not really sure what I'm doing at this point.)

@Brian_Russell Fo shizzle. (in reply to Brian_Russell @katdish Word.)

@stretchmarkmama Hey! That there is what we call an "Art Car" around these parts. (in reply to stretchmarkmama @katdish "Novel" is one word. "Trashy" might be another.)

Maybe just once, someone will call me "Sir" without adding, "You're making a scene." ~Homer Simpson

A novel use of happy meal toys and gumball machine trinkets. http://twitpic.com/xk62h


It's not the bitter cold or the harsh winds of winter I hate so much, it's the static electricity wreaking havoc on my hair. Yes, I'm deep.

RT @michael_arndt: If you are trying to blame me, the buck doesn't even slow down here, keep on going

One of my son's happier moments... http://tweetphoto.com/8388114

Sigh...oh well. It's only paint right? http://twitpic.com/xdq4v


My daughter wants to redo her room. All my work to be painted over. http://twitpic.com/xdpze


Just checked my facebook account. I have 93 items in my in box #baneofmyexistence

RT @Doallas: Need a headline writer? Hire @katdish. Here's an example: http://bit.ly/8xXYow

RT @muchl8r: Compelled by the promise of adventure, our protagonist ran out the door yelling, "oh CRAP! i'm late!" off to work:)

RT @badbanana: 85,000 jobs lost in December. Mostly football coaches.

And YES, I left out a whole bunch of tweets about Chex mix. I realize you're probably bitterly disappointed, but those are for research.

As always, Sorry/You're welcome.

A long way to go

No twitter post today. Perhaps tomorrow. As random as I tend to be, I'm fairly disciplined when it comes to how I post for this blog. There is an order to this seemingly hodge-podge little blog.

But as the news began to trickle in about the goings on in Haiti, and then the news of Pat Robertson being, well...Pat Robertson, this song kept playing in my head over and over. The words of the song in tune with what was going on in my head and in my heart.

So much death; so much need and desperation. It's painful to watch mothers and fathers grieving for their missing children; children searching for their mothers and fathers. I just wanted to shut it out. Turn it off. As selfish and self-absorbed as this may sound, I'm just not ready to process all of this right now. I'll get there. Just not today...



If you're so inclined, please visit my friend Sherri's site, Matter of Fact, and read her post Hope for Haiti

Losing your monkey

When my daughter Rachel was a year old, she received a stuffed animal as a Christmas present - one of those long-legged monkeys with Velcro on the hands and feet. She had plenty of other stuffed animals, but for whatever reason she latched onto that monkey from the moment she got it.

"Monkey" became her constant companion. When we went to the doctor to get shots, it was Monkey she clung to for comfort. She dragged him everywhere - literally and figuratively. As you might imagine, Monkey got a tad gamey after awhile. I was afraid to wash him for fear he would lose his fluffiness, but after she got sick, I really didn't have a choice. The thing was a furry petri dish of potential infection.

After the initial washing, Monkey made a trip to the washing machine on a weekly basis. My daughter was unfazed. It seemed the more matted his coat became, the more she loved him. Linus had his blue blanket. My daughter had Monkey.

Until that horrible January day a few years ago. Rachel was 3 years old. We were up at the church building putting away Christmas decorations and costumes from a Christmas program. After a few hours up at the church with nothing much to keep her entertained, Rachel became cranky and was in need of a nap. I excused myself from the rest of the work crew, drove home and prepared to put her down for a nap.

Exhausted, she lay down and through heavy lids said the word that caused a sinking feeling in my stomach:

"Monkey"

I tried to mentally backtrack all the place we had been in the church building. Several boxes had been packed away and stored in the attic. I immediately called the church office. Everyone there was quite aware of Rachel's attachment to Monkey. No one had seen him.

Back up to church. Several searches through countless boxes in the attic and in every room and storage closet in the building and still no sign of Monkey.

I promised my daughter that I would look again the following day. She didn't want to go to sleep without him, but she was somewhat comforted by the hope that he would be back the following day.

When the second search produced the same results as the first, I began to panic. I'm ashamed to say that I went so far as to buy a new monkey at Rainforst Cafe in the hopes of passing it off as the original. In an attempt to age the monkey in record time, I covered it in Vaseline, rolled it in the dirt and washed it. I repeated this process four times. (Pathetic much? Yes. Yes I am.) When presented with the monkey, as I expected Rachel said, "That's not my monkey. It's too fluffy."

I hung my head and accepted defeat. I told her Monkey was gone and he most likely would not be found. She cried. I cried. We mourned the passing of Monkey. The first night without him was a long one.

But guess what? The day she lost that monkey was the day she stopped sucking her fingers and the day she began to realize that she could comfort herself.

And I realized the things we sometimes desperately cling to for comfort and security only represent the strength that was within us all along.

So how about it? Are you ready to lose your monkey?