New Name, New Mission, New Blog

Hi friends,

There's a new blog. I hope you'll join me there:

http://duncanandsteph.blogspot.com/

Love,

Steph

Wedding.

Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding.
Merging lives. Merging lives. Merging lives.
Moving. Moving. Moving. Moving. Moving. Moving.
Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding.
Showers. Parties. Photos. Gifts. Dress. Dresses. Tuxes.
Merging lives Merging lives. Merging lives.
Work. Sleep. Eat. Snuggle. Work. Sleep Eat. Snuggle.
Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding.
Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding.
Family. Family. Family. Family. Family. Family.
Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding. Wedding.

Wedding.


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Fun Things That Are Happening

Whoa - Steph is posting two blogs in, like, a week? I know. Crazy.

This one doesn't really count, though, since it's going to mostly be pictures I wanted to share with you about awesome, exciting and fun things that are happening... like this:

That Time We Stayed Up Really Late Assembling Invitations (Which Was Totally Worth It Since They Turned Out So Awesome)

That Time We Got to the Post Office Before It Opened (On Purpose) So We Could Get The Invitations Hand Cancelled Because of the Tiny Pearl Thingie On Them

aka - That Time The Lady Who Works At the Post Office Unlocked the Doors and Looked at Us Like, "For Real? The Post Office Isn't THAT Important..."

That Time I Went to Indiana and Saw My Dad's Name on a Corn Tower

That Time We Ate All The Yummy Food The Seelbach Knows How to Prepare. (seriously, come to the reception hungry, people)

That Time Invisible Aliens Attacked Us and D Protected Us With a Deadly Weapon That Doesn't At All Look Like a Thingie That Scans Bar Codes at Stores.

That Time We Practiced Making Bouquets Because My Mom is a Genius

aka - That Time We Gained A Lot of Appreciation for Florists

aka - That Time Steph Learned How to Make Bouquets Via YouTube Videos Via Viv's iPhone

aka - That Time Steph Called a Big Dave on Wiring Every, Single Flower (crazy)

A Dispatch from the Bridal Whirlwind

(Part One)

A week ago, I walked to my car outside the condo to go to work. A lady who was just moving into our building shouted from her car, “You must be Vivian’s roommate!” This is not surprising, Vivian befriends everyone in Dorsey Hills. So I kept walking (running late), and shouted back cheerfully, “Yep! That’s me!” Then she replied, “The one who’s getting married!” Me, “Yep! Me Again!” Lady: “…and who’s never here.” (breath removed, jaws clenched)

I felt really bad about that for a half a day. My head filled with concern about the kind of bride I am, and how it isn’t lining up with the kind of bride I always thought I would be. I’ve watched brides-to-be virtually disappear from their friends’ lives, and thought to myself what a horrible friend she must be. On this side of it, it looks very different.

(Before I go on, let me say very briefly: I am indeed at the condo every night. The reason that lady thinks I’m never there is because I’m never there during WAKING hours.)

The reason I’m okay with being a different kind of bride than I always thought I would be is because I previously had a completely unreasonable idea of what this period of life is like. I would notice brides disappearing from her friends’ lives and think “can’t she just keep things they way they were (job, friends, roommates, church, etc) and just ADD in all that other stuff (fiance’, wedding planning, family merging, etc.)?”

The answer is no. No, she can’t. You see, there’s this little thing called time. And there’s only such much of it. That might sound harsh, but it’s true. That doesn’t mean she loves her friends any less, or doesn’t miss them, it just means there are priorities that are different at this exact moment.

All that being said, it will say this loudly, proudly, and on the internet (which means it must be true): If I drop off the face of the earth after we’re married, slap me around.

(Part Two)

Sunday, Duncan and I worked for nine hours on assembling invitations. I decided to save us some money and make the invites, which created a lot more work for us. So Sunday was nine hours, and last night was another four hours, but they’re finally done. It’s a long, tedious process with many, many, many, many steps, and my brain was mush when it was over.

Last night, I came home, tired and cranky and feeling like I wanted to cry, and I checked my email. There were about fifteen emails from Facebook telling me Ann had left a bunch of comments on the photo album about the antique place in Nonesuch, Kentucky. They were funny and perfect and they made me laugh.

So I sat there in my bed, at 1:15am, grinning vaguely at my computer screen, thinking of Ann and what she would have said if she’d been there that night. She would have said, “Can you believe it? THESE are your WEDDING invitations! They’re going in the mail, and people are going to show up and YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!!!!” And it would have been impossible not to smile.

And that made me think of the last couple of weeks: How I’ve been terribly emotional for no reason at all. How I’ve been forgetting things (like the appointment to pick up…something important (cough) my wedding dress. How awesome Viv is to me when I really don’t even know what’s going on in her life right now. How when Crystal texted on Friday to maybe have dinner that night I seriously thought maybe I could schedule to have dinner with her a week from Tuesday. How I’m lost… caught up… in this bridal whirlwind that is exciting and exhausting and selfish and giving and delicate and momentous and frustrating and tedious and hopeful and consuming all at the same time.

And how I’m not very good at stopping it.

Makes me think of the time when I got engaged, and the world that night was joy and laughter and smiles and phone calls and tears and shrieks and claps and champagne and prayer and dancing and congratulations and Ann grabbing my hand – looking me in the eye – stopping the whirlwind – and saying “friend, you’re getting married!”

Thump. Joy.

And the time I finally got the three of them together and we had their dresses AND their shoes in the same place so I could look at them and that night was laughter and loving the dress and sassy shoes and modeling and I-haven’t-see-you-this-week-how-are-you and hairdos and hemlines and lace overlays and Ann touching my shoulder – looking me in the eye – stopping the whirlwind – and saying “these are the dresses we’re going to wear WHEN YOU GET MARRIED!”

Thump. Joy.

She’s so good at that. It doesn’t take long. Just a few seconds. But you have to think to do it.

And I never truly appreciated it until last night.

So I’m going to try to be better. For the next 81 days – this is my goal.

Stop the whirlwind. FEEL the JOY.

(Lord, hear my prayer.)

Standby….

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Dear People Who Live in Kansas,

I'm not mad. 

I mean, you WON, but I guess that was always going to be the case with your something-in-the-water way you addict people who were born there to yourself.

So, instead of being a bad sport, or whining, or crying about it, I'm going to make sure you know what you're gaining:

You're gaining a person who is just the right kind of friend.  The kind of friend who drops everything for you.  The friend who knows when silence needs to be silence and when silence needs to be broken with some laughter.  The friend who knows when you just need to cry.  She's the one who is crazy-busy, but is constantly sitting in her car, catching up with a friend who lives far away in her few spare minutes before she has to lead 348 elementary school students in learning about dynamics.  Because it's that important to her.  The type of friend who teaches everyone around her something about real friendship.

You're gaining a person who loves her family.  Loves them so much she chooses them over everything else.  Many times.  She loves them so much she chooses to go through this emotionally-draining exodus of Louisville, with prolonged goodbyes and tearful cheers and heart-wrenching hugs and exhaustion, to be near them.  And to those of you who aren't her family, this point may not feel like much of a blessing, but let me assure you it is.  When you see her unshakeable devotion, it almost startles you at first, and then blesses and blesses and blesses and blesses you.  And challenges you.  In the best way.

You're gaining a person who is constantly learning about herself.  Not in an I-need-to-discover-myself-by-backpacking-through-the-hills-of-Spain sort of way (though I think she would probably be up for that), but through life.  She isn't taking a break from life to figure herself out.  She's learning about herself by going through life.  She doesn't just stop thinking and pondering and growing because she's got to workout, and cook, and teach 2,472 kids in a kazoo seminar, and meet her Bible study leader for dinner, and paint something for her walls at home and meet another friend for coffee that night.  No, sir.  Always growing, always listening... for God's call.  Watch closely, Kansans.  Amazing work is being done there.

You're gaining a person who is crazy-fun-from-another-planet.  (the fun is from another plant, not her)  Staycation is fun.  Road trips are fun.  Hay rides are fun.  Sleepovers are fun.  Pool days are fun.  Wrangling little church kids is fun.  4am airport pickups are fun.  Video hunting is fun.  Eating a bagel is fun.  Shoveling dirt in 97-degree heat with chili on your stomach is fun.  It's her laugh.  It's her sense of humor.  It's her smile.  Utterly and irresistibly contagious.

You're gaining a person who is.the.definition.of: SHINE.  Sure, people who are opera singers and performers know how to shine, and, trust me, I've been blessed to see her perform a few times, and she's shining then - but in a different way.  That's not what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about the shine that seems like it's coming from UNDERNEATH her skin.  It's there when you're enjoying a beautiful, sun-kissed day at Huber's, but it's also there when you're sitting at a Chinese bistro, pouring out your heartbreak about a conflict in your family, and seeing her cry out of sheer sympathy.  Shine.  It's there even when she's exhausted.  Even when she's sad.  It's a shine that puts hot pink stilettos, mascara, glitter, hairspray and Bedazzlers to shame. 

So, People Who Live in Kansas, don't overlook this treasure you're gaining.  Don't take it for granted. 

You may have won, but I won too.  We all have. 

Love,

Steph

Shoe Shopping with Boys and Stunted Sadness

When Friday afternoon rolled around, and many people were thinking "cookout", "lake", or "remembering the thousands of people who have died for our country", my mind was on one thing.  One goal for the weekend: find.shoes.for.wedding.

I don't know how this snuck up on me.  I had to have them for the upcoming wedding dress fitting.  I think buying shoes online is sketchy unless it's a company you've bought tons of shoes from and you know the size you need.  Clearly not the case for wedding shoes for Steph.

I wasn't finding any shoes in stores that I really liked and fit my needs for the wedding.  Then the previous weekend we searched for shoes for the bridesmaids -- I thought that would be a good time to casually scope out the wedding shoe situation... not true.  So, by the time the next weekend rolled around, I was in Code Red.  I was pretty sure I wasn't going to find what I needed in a store, and that I would have to order five pairs of shoes online to ensure I had the right one for the wedding dress fitting.

I checked a couple of standby places here in Louisville, then resorted to picking the brand and styles I wanted to try online and calling a bunch of stores to ask if they have them.

All my girls were out of town on Saturday, so I ended up surfing websites with D by my side.  He showed an interest in helping me find what kind of shoe I was looking for, and I thought that was sweet, so I threw out the rule about him seeing wedding apparel before the wedding day JUST FOR THE SHOES.  Then I found a little bridal shoe shop here in Louisville called Mr. Louis Bridal Shoes.  It's been around for 30+ years, so off we went.

We walked into Mr. Louis Bridal Shoes, I started talking to the owner and noticed D walking around the store.  Before I know it, he'd done a full sweep of their merchandise and presented me with the three styles he thought I would like to try on from what he learned during our online shoe shopping.  So. cute!

AND, he was right!  Long story short: I found the shoes.  They are awesome.  And it was a great afternoon because D graciously helped, and the rest of my weekend was open.

Yay!

(light-hearted, flitty music suddenly segues into introspective, awkward chord progressions)

What else is going on, you ask?  Well, my BFF Ann is moving away.  Yeah, ANN.

Ann from Conversations About What It Means to be a Godly Woman.

Ann from all my awesome Bible studies.

Ann from This-Is-Important-Enough-to-MAKE-Time-For-Each-Other Friends.

Ann who dropped everything to be with me when I found out my cat was dying.

Ann who celebrated with me and Viv at the thought of the New Heavens and New Earth.

Ann from the Best, Most-Awesome Staycation ever, mostly because she was in it.

Road-ends-in-water Ann.

Stripper shoes Ann.

Ann who goes to see musicals with me.

Ann who tried to hook me up with a guy whose truck I'd just thrown up in.

Ann who wrangled me into the most awesome experience of working with the kiddos at church.

Ann who brings me magical Jersey Mike's sandwiches when I really, really sick.

Ann, the most famous opera singer in the world!

Yeah, you know the one.

She's moving.

Pretty soon.

It's becoming more and more real.  

And...I feel like I'm not giving it enough attention.  I feel like I haven't been still enough for it to hit me.

How terrible am I?  

There will be more on this later... mostly this post is a getting-ready-for-it post.

Getting ready for... saying goodbye to an amazing, beautiful, shimmering, glittering woman who has meant so much to me.

Oh, there WILL be more....

Standby....

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A Whole New Price is Right

Even though I dislike Drew Carey as the host of The Price is Right, that show (as long as it’s on) will always hold a bit of nostalgia for me.  It makes me feel at home, comfortable.  I used to watch it A LOT.  I watched it at Nannie and Papaw’s house… and my two favorite parts were 1.) Plinko (mostly because there was very little skill involved) and 2.) The Showcase Showdown.

 

My favorite thing about The Showcase Showdown is fantasizing about which of the fantastic showcases I would choose (if, of course, I was the highest-dollar winner from that day’s games).  Inevitably, one of the showcases is a trip for two to Italy, a speedboat, a motorcycle, NFL Fantasy Camp, a trip to the moon and one night’s stay in the Lincoln Bedroom at the White House.  The other one is usually a recliner, a blender, and one of those thingies that removes lint from your shirt.

 

The endless drama for me as a child was when option number two was presented to the highest-dollar winner and they chose to pass.  IS IT POSSIBLE the next showcase that they now HAVE to take is WORSE?  It’s a toothbrush and a lava lamp!  Alas, that never happened.  The only thing better than that is when someone breaks the space-time continuum and gets within $100 (now its $250, how lame is THAT?) of theirs WITHOUT GOING OVER and then they win BOTH SHOWCASES.  ::sound of Steph’s head exploding::

 

Another thing I used to think a lot is that I just didn’t understand the people who were presented with option two, and were super excited about it, and didn’t pass that showcase.  I mean, they see a TV, a bedroom suite, and a refrigerator, and they’re hopping up and down like a lunatic!  They KNOW the next one is going to be a trip to Australia and the Hope Diamond.  And yet, they WANT the other one!

 

How bizarre!  How BORING their lives must be!

 

Until.  Monday.

 

I did the early shift on Monday, which means life after 12pm is about food and nap.  I grabbed some food on the way home and clicked on the TV for some mindless nothing until it was time to go to sleep (roughly 14 minutes later).  I hate almost everything on TV these days, so when I saw The Price is Right, I couldn’t resist.  And just in time for the Showcase Showdown!!

 

When I’d seen the bedroom suite, massage chair, grill and hammock, I thought, “THAT. IS. AWESOME!!!”  And even after I’d seen the next showcase, which was Rock Camp, Golf Camp and a speed boat, I still thought the first one was supremely better.  And then I realized: I’m a whole different Steph.

 

Bizarre.

 

 

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Zerbert Oblivion

Cute Names The Sanders Family Makes For Things:

1.) sleepy winkers - the stuff that is in your eyes when you wake up, many people call this 'sleep'. 'Sleepy winkers' is about 87 times cuter than 'sleep'.

2.) sugar bowls - your neck. Specifically, that part of your neck between your chin and your chest - giddy faux terror to small children: "I'm gonna get your sugar bowls!"

3.) zerbert - many, many people call these raspberries. It's a flatulence sound made with one person's mouth and another person's tummy/arm/fleshy whatever. Hence, one person gives another person a zerbert. Though I thought this was invented by my family, I have recently learned no, it came from the Cosby Show.

Things We 'Learned' From This Guy At Jeremy's Graduation:

1.) Corporations are horrible.
2.) Universities are doing a terrible job of educating people.
3.) The economy has ruined the world.
4.) Kentucky will be uninhabitable in 100 years. (No, I didn't leave off a zero.)
5.) We're all headed toward ecological oblivion.

Things That Are Not Fun While Teaching Children's Church:

1.) A kid getting a carpet burn so bad, it bleeds.
2.) Having about 30% more kids, and 50% fewer grown ups.
3.) Something (good weather? crack?) making ALL the kids 20-30% more active (read: crazy).
4.) A fire alarm.

How Steph Is Feeling Lately:

1.) Overwhelmingly grateful and happy.
2.) Infrequently frustrated and exasperated.
3.) Often sleepy.
4.) Very loved.
5.) Like things are kicking into a gear that is exhilarting and tiring and giddy and startling and it may. never. stop. You know, a zerbert oblivion.



Standby...

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There Shall Certainly Be a Resurrection

“But I admit this to you, that according to the Way which they call a sect I do serve the God of our fathers, believing everything that is in accordance with the Law and that is written in the Prophets; having a hope in God, which these men cherish themselves, that there shall certainly be a resurrection of both the righteous and the wicked.  In view of this, I also do my best to maintain always a blameless conscience both before God and before men.”  Acts 24:14-16

I have heard sermons before that I have questioned.  Maybe some of the outlying points I thought went to far… perhaps I thought the sermon should have been more expository, and less topical… maybe I thought the jokes distracted from the point.  But until this past Sunday, I had never had a negative PHYSICAL reaction to a sermon.

Friends, the sermon I heard Sunday (Easter Sunday no less!) was vile. Repugnant. Heresy at best. Blasphemy at worst.

(Here I will tell you this was not at Southeast.  I was visiting my future in-laws in northern Virginia.)

Some of the first words out of this ‘minister’s’ mouth were:  “I’m not one of those who believes that Christianity lives or dies with the resurrection of Christ.”

WHAT?!  Um, sir, we have nothing to talk about. 

He went on to say NOTHING MORE about the resurrection of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, our very reason for existing, our only hope of reunion with our Father.  NOTHING.

He spoke for several minutes about amazing heart surgeries, and funny jokes, and charming violin solos, and how they, in and of themselves, can provide ‘resurrection’ for people.  How he sees ‘resurrections’ every day, and how THOSE ‘resurrections’ make him believe in THE resurrection.

From the first jaw-dropping statement, I went through a variety of physical reactions.  At first, I was alarmed… mouth agape, eyes wide in disbelief.  Then I was gripping Duncan’s arm and trying to control my breathing.  And by the end of this assault on my faith and my Savior, I was shaking with anger and about to cry.

Although I know my Savior isn’t hurt by this man’s actions, I was burned up.  We Sanders folk are an extremely tribal bunch, and although I know I have a Savior who is mighty and fearsome, I wanted to defend the work He did on the cross.

“And I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse, and He who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and wages war.  His eyes are a flame of fire, and on His head are many diadems; and He has a name written on Him which no one knows except Himself. 

He is clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God.  And the armies which are in heaven, clothed in fine linen, which and clean, were following Him on white horses.  From His mouth comes a sharp sword, so that with it He may strike down the nations, and He will rule them with a rod of iron; and He treads the wine press of the fierce wrath of God, the Almighty.

And on His robe and on His thigh He has a name written, “KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.” Revelation 19:11-16

THIS is my Lord.  THIS is my Savior. 

DO NOT compare Him to a funny joke.  DO NOT compare Him to a nice piece of music.  DO NOT compare Him to medical technology.  DO NOT compare Him to a few nice things people have done for each other.  DO NOT compare His work to anything anywhere close to things humans have done.

If you believe in His resurrection because you’ve seen some uplifting things from other people, you are believing in OTHER PEOPLE.  You are believing in humans.

There is nothing we do, or can do, to even come close to what Christ did for us.  There is nothing we can do to deserve it. 

It breaks my heart that on the day when Christians are supposed to be celebrating in the immense grace and justice of the Lord, there was a whole church of people in northern Virginia who call themselves Christians who were celebrating mankind.  How many more are there? 

 

Standby….

 

 

 

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Joyfully Eating My Stupid, Stupid Words

A few years ago, I was eating dinner with my friend Erica and her husband.  I was in town (near Nashville) for a journalism conference, and we went out to Chili’s. 

 

At the time I was dating a guy we’ll call ‘Schmuck’, who, at the time I thought was interesting and…well, I can’t really remember what else.  Even now, four years later, I have no idea why I dated that guy for two years.  No. idea.

 

Anyway, I was out to dinner with Erica and her husband, Todd.  (I don’t really know Todd that well. They met after she’d moved away, and the first time I met him was the day before their wedding.  I’m positive he’s a great guy, I just have spent almost NO time with him.)  In an attempt to get past the pleasantries and really get into LIFE… he asked me how it was going with Schmuck and if he was ‘the one’. 

 

I had never really considered this.  I mean, WHAT? 

 

Very quickly, my brain started buzzing to appropriate, but true, answers.  I could have said I didn’t think he was the one… but that would sound ridiculous.  I mean, WHY would I still be dating him?  I could say he IS the one…but….he isn’t.  Wait.  He. isn.t   Whoa.

 

Somehow… my mouth started muttering words like…”I’m not sure there is a ‘one’ for everybody…” and “love is hard, maybe you just find the person you’re willing to work at it with…” and terrible things like that.  It was kind of a blur… I remember my mind working really hard to stay well-ahead of the words I was saying, and then hearing the words I was saying, and my mind being very confused about how they could possibly be coming out of my mouth. 

 

Todd very politely responded with something like “well, I hope you’re wrong” and hugged his wife to him in a don’t-listen-to-your-crazy-friend sort of way.  Really, I kind of wish Erica had smacked me across the face and shouted “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!?”

 

Because it literally took me months to sort through that.  Months.  And then the break-up.  But that’s when it started.  At Chili’s in Nashville.

 

I’m thinking about that conversation a lot today.

 

I literally couldn’t breathe last night thinking about the fact that this person… Duncan… is not only ‘the one’ (he is)…and not only the person I’ll work the rest of my life to have a great marriage with (he is)… but that he was made (by God!) FOR ME… and that I was made (by God!) FOR HIM.  And that we never would have found each other without God’s design. 

 

I’m resting in his arms, with tears of joy in my eyes, all these things pouring in and out of my mind… and I think “How could you have said those things in Nashville?”

 

How could I?

 

There are many, many, more regrettable mistakes I could have made at that time in my life.  And I’m so glad I didn’t. 

 

Now, all I have to regret is that, for a time, I stopped believing in love.  It’s not an easy thing to admit for a girl who grew up watching Cinderella.  In fact, I’ve been sitting here staring at the blinking cursor after that sentence for several minutes.  But, it’s true.  I can’t erase it.

 

It makes me who I am.  It makes me the woman who was made for Duncan.  Through DNA, and church, and Sanders-style parenting, and music, and dreams, and tears, and laughter, and friends, and prayers, and broken hearts. 

 

Mostly, last night, and definitely today, and the rest of my life, it makes me deliriously grateful.  Can’t-breathe, laughing-through-tears grateful.

 

 

Standby…

Cute Kiddie Stories

You all remember I volunteer with the kids at church, right?  Okay, just making sure.

Cute story #1:

There’s a little girl in my pink room I call Little Stephanie.  Her name is actually something else I won’t put on the internet because I’m not in charge of her.  But over the last several months, and even though I’m not supposed to, she’s been becoming one of my favorites.  She reminds me so much of me.  Not 26-year-old me.  Seven-year-old me.

She loves singing and doing all the motions to worship songs in chapel (okay, that’s 26-year-old me, too!).  She LOVES her brother, and talks about him all the time (okay, so forget that part where she isn’t like 26-year-old me).  She isn’t always wearing the highest-fashion clothes, or the newest clothes, but she always looks comfortable and cute.  She’s a little shy at first, but when you break through those first few questions about her week and school… she warms up quickly and has a smile that just… brightens your day.  

This week, she even had a little dry skin rash around her mouth (sound familiar, mom and dad?).

Anyway, this week Little Stephanie was coloring their Bible verse of the week, and was only using two colors.  Only using two colors is strange because we’ve both bonded and had many conversations about how it’s awesome to use lots and lots of colors.  So I asked her if she wanted me to grab her some more crayons from the bin at the other end of the table.  She said no, thanks.  I was curious, so I asked why not. 

She looked up at me, holding her purple and blue crayons in her upturned palms, and smiled and said ‘because THESE have SPARKLES!!’  And giggled and went on coloring.

Friends, I didn’t even know these glitter crayons existed, but that’s exactly what I would have done if I had known.

 

Cute story #2:

One of my favorite things to do with my six-year-old girls is to sit at the table and color together.  (NOTE:  this can only happen if there are a lot of grown-ups working in the room that day, otherwise, I have to be on Sammy-stop-hitting-Jimmy-in-the-face-with-the-foam-ball duty or please-stop-destroying-the-doll-house-with-checker-saucers duty.)

Coloring is a special way I can pull some of these girls out of their shells and really get them talking about what’s going on in their lives.  It kind of reminds me of the old days… a group of women sitting around knitting together in the drawing room (shout out, Jane Austen!) or a family of women sitting together sewing a quilt… something keeping their hands busy… but their minds are free to float around… free to open up… free to bond with the other women in the circle.

This week, while prying critical birthday party information out of a new seven-year-old, another little girl said she was trying to talk her mom into getting her an elephant for her birthday.  Not at toy elephant.  Not a stuffed elephant.  A real.baby.elephant.

I thought that was pretty awesome, and smiled to myself at the mental picture of this girl’s mom wading her way through that one.

Then another girl at the table looked at me and said “Tell her she can’t have an elephant for her birthday!”, her big eyes demanding affirmation, “Little girls can’t have elephants!”

I chuckled.  I couldn’t help it.  She was so wound up about something so ridiculous.  Then I looked at the upcoming birthday girl, who was awaiting my verdict, her big eyes filled with apprehension.

“It’s not up to me which little girls can have baby elephants and which ones can’t,” I said.  They both were subdued.

Wow.  So many things I never thought I’d say….

 

Cute Story #3

At that same table, several minutes later, and with an almost completely different group of girls, one girl exclaimed that her mom was going to have another baby!  She said she hoped it was a girl, and I said, yeah, I always thought it would be fun to have a sister, so I hope she gets a sister too.

The two girls across the table said they wanted sisters too (both had two older brothers).  It’s not unheard of, but if they’re both the youngest, and they’re both six or seven, there’s a good chance no more kiddies are coming in that family.  So I seized the opportunity.

“Listen girls,” I said (they instantly knew something important was coming, and stopped coloring), “I hope you have sisters too, but in case you don’t, I have to tell you something important.”  (pause, big eyes blinking…) “No matter what, it’s really, really important to have really good girl friends in your lives, okay?”  (they nod.) 

“Your mommies are really important, too, but you have to make sure you have good girl friends in your lives always, okay?  We don’t learn how to be the women God wants us to be from boys… we learn that from girls.  So always make sure you have good, Christian, girl friends.”

(blinks)  (I come close to tearing up, thinking of…

 

 

(and they went back to coloring)

 

 

 

Standby…

 

 

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Twitterings

Maybe because I'm reading and writing about 187% more news than usual, and radio news is built around short sentences, I've been thinking a lot of one-sentence thoughts lately. This makes me want to start a Twitter account. (for those unfamiliar with Twitter, it's basically a mini-blog, where you just write one or two sentences, post it, and it goes out to all your other friends on Twitter. I know, it doesn't really make sense. Why do we need something like that?) Anyway, this week I've been pretty sure I'd have a pretty funny Twitter feed, and I've been fighting the urge to start one.

I don't know why, but I want to fight Twitter and Facebook with a passion. I can't really explain it. Part of it is that they're just too trendy. Part of it is that I like to maintain a certain level of anonymity. Part of it is that I'm worried I'll get fired over something I post. Part of it is that I'm fairly certain it will be fun, and then suck up A LOT of my time.

So in an effort to purge my Twitter-leanings this week, I'm going to share of few of my Twitter-worthy thoughts here:

- I need people to stop kidnapping their children. (yesterday morning after two AMBER Alerts.)

- How can birds be so happy when I'm so sleep-deprived? (yesterday afternoon after a crappy nap and chirping birds.)

- Flounder doesn't stay together very well. Need a spatula. Or a big spoon.

- Is John King (CNN) sexy? He acts like he is, but I don't see it.

- Louisville's Metro Council is possibly the most ineffective governmental body in the history of the world. That, or the UN. It's close.

- Of all the grammar and spelling things I'm good at, knowing when to use 'lie' and when to use 'lay' is not one of them.

- I shouldn't call people when I've just gotten up from a nap. My mom is a champ.

- One years since Bear Stearns? Dang. I've said the word 'economy' every day for a year. Exhausting.

- I think it says a lot about my journey as a recovering control freak that I'm completely willing to let my fiance' plan our entire honeymoon.

- Or a lot about my fiance'.

- 'Ranunculus' (flower I'm considering for the wedding) sounds a lot like 'redonkulus' (a phrase used on Cute Overload a lot for 'ridiculous').

- The engagement ring is starting to feel like part of my hand. About five times a day, I have a brief panic attack when I don't feel it on my hand. And it's there.

- Does it make me a terrible Christian that I pray for God to shape my heart on something and then I'm surprised when He does?

- It's hard for me to concentrate when the national radio feed uses a musical masterpiece (like Beethoven's 5th) as mere bed music for me to talk over. Barf.

- When your 'marriage advice' to me is 'don't argue', I wonder how you've been married 37 years.



Standby...


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The Sanders Girls Don't Mess Around

Eleven days ago, I got engaged.

So far, I have the ceremony site, officiant and reception site booked. And I have my wedding dress. Not bad, eh? (I'll also have a photographer selected and booked by the end of the week, I just couldn't get my last interview scheduled until this week.)

As you can see, Steph has been busy. Strike that. Steph and her mom have been busy.

I didn't want to waste my vacation and the extraordinary gift of a week of unadulterated wedding planning, and I didn't. Also, I knew I would be entering a month of weird work schedules this month, and wouldn't feel like keeping a bunch of appointments.

===================

You may remember a few posts ago, there was a little dust-up over a tiny little ice storm we had here in Louisville. I think I said something to the effect of "The ice storm tried to kill me".

Well, you should know, the ice storm and I have now made up. In fact, I'm friends with the ice storm.

I know. It's a very strange change of heart. Let me explain.

Duncan was also without power during the ice storm. In fact, he was without power longer than me. The first night, I camped out in the living room at home without electricity, but with the fireplace on (which, despite some reports, was NOT like the 'gates of Hades'), freezing my noogies off, and D got a hotel room with a friend. The second night, when we realized it would be many days without power, we refugeed to Paris (thanks Mom and Dad!). So we spent a couple of days staying at my parents' house... then when my power was back on, he spent a few more nights on my couch.

When his power returned, and he went home, he sat on the couch, trying to figure out why he was sad his electricity had been repaired. He looked around his house and felt sad. He said it didn't feel like home. Because I wasn't there.

That's when he decided he wanted to marry me. And that's why I'm friends with the ice storm.

=========

The best part? Unlocking allllll those thoughts I hadn't let myself have.

Yes, I'd been thinking a lot about marrying D. Yes, I'd been dreaming about what our life together might look like.

There were zillions of those thoughts zinging around in my head. And I hadn't let them out.

Why? Well, there's this thing called 'heartbreak'. And I was scared of it. I guess I thought if it didn't work out, it would hurt less if I hadn't let myself think those thoughts. That was silly, of course, but we all have defense mechanisms that sometimes operate incognito.

The good news is that now allllll those thoughts are zinging around happily, unencumbered by caution.

Zing away, happy thoughts! Frolic like baby deer!

Thanks for celebrating with me, guys...


Standby...



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The Future Mrs. Duncan Crosby!!

Hey everyone! By now you know I'm engaged!!!

I have MUCH to write - but I can't right now. I'm on vacation and I have a little over seven months to plan a wedding, so I'm going to do that! For now, here are pictures:

Lost My Membership Card

(I’ve been working on a post about Valentine’s Day – and I’ll get there eventually. But I had to get this one out first.)

MEMO

To: People at my church
From: Steph
Re: Treating me like the spawn of Satan for no reason


Let me first say that I love you guys. I mean, this church is full of wonderful, loving, warm people who have worked mightily in my life. And I will never forget that.

But, guys, we need to talk. This has happened now three times in the past three years. It shocks me every time. And makes me sad later. Let me show you what I mean in a quick illustration:

(I’m at Bible Study. A really intense Bible study that requires I do homework five nights of the week, mark up my Bible, and then go to a two-hour lesson on the sixth night. I’ve been coming to this Bible study for WEEKS now. I walk up to the table with all the snacks, and start choosing between pepperoni and tiny cheese nibbles, and…)

Some lady, we’ll call her ‘Fran’: So… Stephanie… what do you do?

Steph: (long pause, knowing what’s about to happen) Um… I’m… I’m a reporter.

Fran: (gasps, nearly drops her plate, ignores food in front of her, looks up at me) Are you a SPY?

Steph: (confused, wondering if she’s joking, realizing she’s quite serious) Um… I’m sorry… I don’t know what you mean?

Fran: Well, I mean, are you a SPY? Or are you a Christian?

This all happened BEFORE she found out I work for public radio. THAT was when she told me she was surprised anyone who is a Christian works there.

No, this isn’t the first time this has happened… there was the time when I was hanging out with people who were in Easter Pageant and the response I got was “(GASP!) Are you a DEMOCRAT?!”… and the time while serving in Children’s Ministry where a woman literally pulled children away from me after learning the news. And that’s not even counting all the less-verbal responses that include a lot of averting your eyes and saying things like “oh…neat.”

This is probably where you think I’m being a little dramatic. I’m not. All these things have really happened, the situation with ‘Fran’ just happened last night. Frankly, I’m a little tired of it and I have a few things to say to you.

- You don’t know me. All of these awkward conversations have been with people who have JUST met me. Why don’t you try to let go of some of those stereotypes and get to know a person? (Wow – never really thought white, female, middle-class Stephanie would ever have to encourage people to stop stereotyping her.)

- Of course I’m a Christian. Most of these (certainly the big three) instances have taken place in a place in which I’m CLEARLY a Christian. Performing in an Easter pageant that required ALL my spare time (and even some of my work-time) for oh, about three months. Getting up at 7:30AM to go serve with little children. Attending a two-hour class every week, and doing five nights of Bible study homework every week. All of these are things I love. They’re also things I’m doing to serve the Lord. Do you really think I’d be doing them if I wasn’t a Christian?

- But what if I wasn’t? These big three conversations have been extremely confrontational and extremely forward. What if I wasn’t a Christian? Is that a great way to welcome someone into the church? To have a really quality conversation with them about the Lord’s love? No. It’s not.

- I don’t like it either. I know why you hate my profession. I know why you hate my company. Trust me, I have the same problems with it. But watching you react in such a visceral, attacking way makes me want to stand up for it. That’s weird.

So, please, guys. Cool out.

I hate it when the place that drew me in because of its warm and welcoming spirit makes me feel like an outcast. A fake Christian.


Standby….


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It's Dangerous Out There!

Some of you may remember that time we didn’t have power for a few days. Oh yeah, that was like, two weeks ago. Ha! Well, anyway… looks like it might happen again.

Our trees here in Louisville are battered and weary. Many of them have dropped huge limbs on our power lines and others are hanging by a thread. Those that DID fall on the power lines were graciously removed by the power company in their scramble to restore power to um…700,000 people, but were selfishly LEFT on the phone and cable lines for someone else to clean up.

This would make for a dangerous situation if a strong line of wind were to come through. Good thing no one has said anything about that… what?!?

Guess what’s in the forecast? You guessed it! High winds accompanied by dangerous storms! Winds in excess of SIXTY mph!!

I suppose the good news is that after September’s Wind Storm that was the Largest Power Outage in Kentucky History, and then January’s Ice Storm that quickly became the new Largest Power Outage in Kentucky History, we’re getting pretty stinkin’ good at not having power.

We don’t panic. We now have all our candles stored in the same place and can get to them (and the lighter) in the dark. We now own propane gas burners. We have air mattresses and extra blankets for our friends who need to crash in the case that we miraculously have power and they don’t. We can camp it up for WEEKS, man!

But we don’t want to. We’ve learned that we REEAALLLYY like OUR beds. Our stoves. And our climate control. I guess the good news is that this time, IF the electricity goes out, it isn’t literally freezing outside and people won’t die from being cold.

This brings me to a topic I’ve been tossing around in my head for a few days, and I can’t really get to what I want to say about it. It seems like something profound should be there, but I don’t know what it is. So here’s my stab at it:

It’s very, very strange when YOUR HOME becomes the thing that is TRYING TO KILL YOU.

Home is HOME, you know? The place you feel safe. The place to which you retreat when everything else is going wrong. The place you can’t wait to get to at the end of a long day.

But, during Ice Storm Week, when I was super-sick, it became the place from which I had to flee. It’s hard to get your mind there. I remember being really sick, and not really being able to think well, and just wanting to sleep, and the power going out. I remember thinking, “I don’t even care. I don’t want to move. I’m comfy on this couch and I’m warm under these blankets. Food keeps magically appearing in front of me (thanks Viv and D). I’m fine.”

At that point I was pretty sure I could just camp out in the living room and wait any number of days until the power came back. Wrong again, Sanders.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when I woke up and my face was frigid, that I realized it was a very bad plan. Overnight, the house that I love because of its warmth and comfort and coziness had become starkly the opposite. It’s very weird to sit in your living room with wet hair, as close to the fireplace as possible, and realize you CAN’T. STAY THERE. Very bad things will happen if you do.

It’s still strange for me to think about.

Moving on…

Someone hit my coworker Gabe with their car today. At a press conference.

My coworker Gabe was hit by a car at a press conference today.

Yeah. It happened.

Knocked down, in the mud, pants ripped, sore leg, the works.

Here’s the kicker… the person KNEW he was going to hit Gabe. He HONKED before he hit him, and never hit the brakes. I just don’t know how you live with something like that.

Gabe came back to work and said, “Someone hit me with their car.”
Did that guy go back to work and say, “I hit some guy with glasses with my car! And then drove off! I’m awesome!”

Grrrr. It really burns me up. Nothing I can do about it, but still burns me up.

Careful out there, friends, it’s dangerous.


Standby…

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Take Pause

A few moments that have given me pause over the last day or so…

Story One

Yesterday, Duncan went to the hospital for some tests (he’s okay!), and I was going to meet him there so he didn’t have to wait alone, and feel bad by himself and possibly face something scary all alone.

He texted me to meet him at radiology at a local hospital. So I get there, find the right building, walk down several hallways to radiology, ask for him, wait. Lady opens the magic doors, tells me to walk down the hallway until I see the sign that says “Triage/X-Ray Nurses Station”, and follow those signs.

I’ll admit, the use of the word ‘triage’ was quite alarming, but I’ve been in enough hospitals for long enough to know they frequently label things something scarier than they need to be. So I walk to a sign that says “X-Ray Nurses Station”, but no “Triage”. So I look a little longer down that hallway, no triage sign, so I elect to follow the x-ray sign… thinking to myself I’ve taken so many turns in this taupe-colored world that I better find Duncan, because I won’t be able to find my way out.

A few more hallways later, I reach the X-Ray Nurses Station. I tell the nurse who I am, tell her Duncan’s name, and say I’m looking for him. She looks at me kind of blankly, like she’s never heard anything like that before, and says “Is he a patient in this hospital?”

Ummm…. really? Do people show up at THIS desk looking for people they were supposed to meet for coffee at the Panera across the street?

I didn’t actually have time to process her questions and eek out a ‘yes…’ because I saw Duncan, walking around the corner of the holding area, so I just pointed at him and walked toward him.

Weird.

Story Two

I was interviewing a lady this week at the radio station, who had introduced herself to me only as “Cheryl” (she came with another person I had actually invited for the interview), and after the interview, I said “Cheryl, do you spell your name C-H-E-R-Y-L?”

And she said “Yes”, and I said, “I should be able to get that right, that’s how my mom spells it…” And she said “Awww!!! THANK YOU! That’s sweet.”

Um. Okay….


Story Three

I’ve been honing my taste for bourbon.

A few reasons:

1.) I’m from Bourbon-stinkin’-County man! I should know SOMETHING about bourbon. Also, the Louisville-area, and Kentucky in general, is kinda famous for its bourbon production.

2.) I’m trying to develop ‘my cocktail’, that I can order when I get someplace, everyone can make it, I don’t have to look at a drink list or a wine list or take up everyone’s time if we aren’t doing that, just to have it as a standby. You may find this pretentious; I’ve found it quite necessary in social situations in recent months. I hate to make people wait for me.

3.) I’m not a huge fan of vodka or gin. I tried making my cocktail some sort of martini… but the only ones I like are the froo-froo ones (much like the coffee drinks I like), and if you’re going to drink the froo-froo martinits, you have to see the drink list, they vary quite a lot according to where you are.

Anyway, my cocktail right now is a Maker’s (gotta support the local companies) Manhattan, on the rocks.

We went out to eat at Texas Roadhouse… and I really wanted to have a Manhattan to start, and then just water or Diet Coke or whatever… so I was going to order ‘my cocktail’ and then I thought, ‘Wait, this is TEXAS Roadhouse. They might not make that here’. So I quickly grab the drink list (already available on the table) and browse… Beer. Giant margarita. Beer. Giant fruity rum drink. Beer. Giant frozen margarita. Beer. Giant pink margarita. Beer. You get the idea.

So I’m thinking: They probably don’t make manhattans here… I mean, this is Texas Roadhouse. The guy will probably laugh at me if I order that and say, ‘we don’t do that here’. I mean, people from Texas hate New York, right? There was that commercial with the cowboys and salsa and the ‘Made in New York CITY?!?’

And then, I stopped, and stared at the table and thought: What has HAPPENED to me??

That’s the moment of pause. For those of you who like to know how things end, I ordered the Maker’s Manhattan. The guy didn’t laugh. He wrote it down on his notepad and brought me one a few minutes later.

Sometimes I have really ridiculous conversations with myself that end up with me learning a major truth about myself over nothing.


Standby…


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I Can Vouch For Him

Me (to my small group if six-year-olds in Sunday school): What else do we know about Jesus?

Small child #1: He’s awesome!

Me: That’s true…

Small child #2: He made us?

Me: Yes – good one!

(various other answers…)

Me: There’s one you guys haven’t said that’s pretty important…

(anxious, precious, six-year-old faces look up at me quizzically)

Me: …how about Jesus is Lord?

Small child #3: (in the cutest, small child lisp) I thought the Lord was Lord…

Me: The Lord IS Lord! And Jesus is Lord too!

Small child #3: They’re BOTH Lord? TWO Lords?

Me: Yes! Well – yes, they’re both Lord… ONE Lord, but two of them… well, actually three, right?

Small child #3 (blinks, is confused)

Me: Well, because of the Holy Spirit… so there’s the Lord, Jesus and the Holy Spirit…

Small Child #3: I don’t know THAT guy…



Standby...

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Meth Addicts Are Ruining My Life

(I've been forumulating this blog post for a few days now. The problem was, my head felt like it was going to explode if I looked at a computer screen. Or... sat up. So, at some point during my four days of bleary, throbbing sinus fiasco, I thought to myself 'meth addicts are ruining my life!' and was quite serious about it. Then I realized how over-dramatic I had made my situation and then thought, 'oh well, that will make a funny blog title later'. And here we are.)

Things I've learned over the last five days:

1.) Keep more medicine around.

Here's how Steph usually deals with over the counter medicines. I get sick. I go to Walgreens and buy something that's made for THOSE EXACT SYMPTOMS. I get better a few days later. I think to myself 'THAT'S never going to happen again!' and throw the medicine away.

I know. It's ridiculous. I guess in my euphoria to be better I've forgotten that IF I get to live more than two or three more months, I'll probably get a little touch of something or the other. Or in this case, get WHALLOPED by it.

But I've decided to start keeping more generic, one-symptom medicine around. Here's why: when you get WHALLOPED by something, the last thing you want to do is get in your car and drive to Walgreens. in a snowstorm. scratch that. ICE storm.

So for the first day or so, I was sitting on my bathroom floor, pulling out those containers that are for traveling with makeup but are used for a billion other things on every other day of the year, searching for pills, syrup, anything that looked like medicine. And I found a few things. Some Alka Seltzer Cold tablets. Some Tylenol Cough and Sore Throat. Some NyQuil.

So I lasted on those for a couple of days (and cough drops and tea my valiant D brought me). And NONE of it worked. None of those things even put a dent in the awful, swollen, throbbing, scratchy, coughy, block o'congestion that was me. A dent, people! NOTHIN'!

That's when I realized all my medicines have changed. All their formulas have been changed. None of them have that magical drug pseudoephedrine (or however you spell it) because all the meth addicts use it to make their stupid, stupid highly-addictive and lethal drug.

Luckily, my awesome roommate Vivian braved the seriously dangerous ice-coated Louisville to get some Sudafed (the REAL stuff) and my symptoms were greatly reduced for like, the last day. Lesson learned, meth-heads. Game on.

2.) No, everyone-in-my-life, I don't take it back.

Every time winter comes around and some friendly little snowflake prances lightly down from the sky, SOMEONE around me will say "Oh, I wish it would snow!" And I look at them like they just spoke Urdu. Then they give me the talk about how they love snow and they try to make me feel like a grumpy old man, and sometimes it works but mostly it doesn't, but now I can point out the window and say "No, I don't take it back".

Do I like large amounts of snow? Um. Let's see. Do I like not having electricity for up to ten days? Do I like closing off extra rooms and huddling with my roommate next to a fireplace under a zillion blankets and still being cold? Do I like putting all my frozen goods on the balcony because it's literally freezing outside and NOT in my freezer? Do I like having to HIT my car to break the ice before I can even think about shoveling the snow off it? (okay, I didn't do that one. But D did, and no, I didn't like it) Do I like driving on super-dangerous roads? Do I like it when HUNDREDS of THOUSANDS of people, many of whom are helpless children and old people, are in the same situation? Do I LIKE death and destruction? No. I do not.

So, if somewhere, out in the ether of my mind, I had wondered 'maybe I DO like snow'... that is gone. No, I do not like it. I liked it when I was six and I didn't have to go to school and I could play and there was no danger or responsibilities. Now I just find that it's trying (at best) to annoy me or (at worst) to kill me.

(as a side note: no, I do NOT have power, I have refugeed to Paris, where it is warm and toasty. Hopefully, by Monday, my power will be back on, though that seems unlikely according to the power company. I told them my boyfriend is their lawyer, they didn't seem to care.)

3.) Love is good stuff.

Okay, so maybe I didn't LEARN that this week. But it's nice to be reminded.

Exhibit A: Viv. Unlike me, Viv had to work during all the ice storm crap. And yet she did WAY more work than me. She shoveled cars out. She braved the dangerous roads to Kroger to get me medicene. She cooked an awesome dinner on propane burners (she got ALL Martha Stewart on those propane tanks!). She slept on the floor so I could sleep on the couch because I was sick, even though she's the one who had to go to work the next day.

Exhibit B: Duncan. He got me medicine. He got me tea and vitamins (and BUGGED me about taking them). He helped countless people get unstuck from the snow and then when I asked him to dig out my car, he didn't even hesitate. Or complain. He searched for (and eventually bought) us the propone gas burner, delivered it to us, set it up, taught us how to use it. At some point, Viv looked at me and said "He WILL be your hero!". And I laughed. And smiled. But you know, I don't think it's even that. I don't think he's thinking, "What can I do now to be Steph's hero?" I think he loves me. And he does whatever love makes a person do for someone else. And THAT makes him a hero.

Exhibit C: Mom and Dad. They were both preparing for a huge business opportunity for mom... lots of last minute prep, getting ready for a trip. Mom had been sick. But when my electricity went out, and we started realizing how big the problem was, here comes the text "you could come here". And this is Mama Sanders, people. When she says "you could come here", she means, "you and all your friends could come here". And she means it. And then the next day, while my phone is giving me the seriously-hurry-it-up-I'm-about-to-die-at-any-moment panic beep, I hear "We went to the grocery for you, there's all kind of drinks and stuff here..." Oh yeah. That's my mom.

Exhibit D: My neighbors. You remember I was sick, right? How could you forget? On Day One of the Ice Storm of 2009, when I was waking up to the sound of giant sheets of ice breaking and trees splitting in two... another sound I heard was... people. At 7am (or earlier, I'm not really sure, time doesn't matter to me when I'm sick). Lots of people. Talking. Shouting. Coaching. Helping each other.

Helping each other dig out their cars. Helping each other get their cars out from under trees. Helping the old guy up who was knocked down by a falling tree (WISH I was kidding). And after the electricity went out, offering a fireplace, a place to keep their pet parakeet, etc. It was...nice.


So even in this ice-drenched, treacherous, unwelcoming winter deathtrap there are still bright, warm, shining moments of love... of love the way it was meant to be. The way God created it.

Maybe THAT'S what makes all those ice-coated tree branches glimmer and sparkle in the sunlight...

No. Probably just their way of luring you over so they can stab you in the heart with their icy spikes.


Standby...


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There’s More to Being a Woman

Whenever two completely different things make my brain go in the same direction in one day, it makes me think I’ve got some things to hash out on that topic. Such is the case today.

Thing One

I read a news story about a 23-year-old woman in California who was auctioning off her virginity to pay for graduate school. Several things are troubling here:

- Auctioning herself for a one-night stand
- Her willingness to lose her virginity to someone she’s not married to, doesn’t even love, and has never even met, and will likely never see again
- She’s doing it for money
- She got the idea from her older sister, who paid for her master’s degree by working as a prostitute for three weeks
- The number of offers, and the amount of money being bid

The most disurbing:

- In today’s world, you don’t get to be 23 and a virgin if you haven’t made a conscious decision to do so. It takes a certain amount of self-control and a pledge to SOMETHING (God, yourself, your mom, whatever) to make that happen. She clearly had made such a decision and is now throwing it away.

- Isn’t there SOMEONE in her life who can tell her what a terrible idea this is? Where are her friends? Where is her mother? Where is her family?

- She’s quoted in the story that she was surprised so many men were willing to pay so much for her virginity, and said it clearly has been devalued in today’s society. (Um, yeah, thanks to crap like this, it HAS)

Thing Two

A show on the radio today was about Barbie’s 50th birthday. Yeah, THAT Barbie. I didn’t listen to all of it. Really, the ONLY thing I caught was when one of the guests said that for several years, in some families in which mothers don’t talk to their daughters about this, Barbie is ‘the only place where little girls are learning about womanhood’, like it was something we should all be grateful to Barbie for providing.

Excuse me?

I WILL say I was a big fan of Barbie when I was little. I remember one of my babysitters spending several hours with me turning the house into Barbie World and it was super-fun. I’m not anti-Barbie.

I’m anti-Barbie-being-the-only-idea-of-womanhood-in-the-world.

In an email exchange with my friend Ann about the crazy virginity auction in California, she brought up the very thing that is at the root of both of these issues: fellowship. Good, Christian, loving, FEMALE fellowship.

Girls, we have to stick together. We’ll never learn how to do this thing called “Living Out God’s Purpose for Womanhood” from men, no matter how much we love them. They don’t know how to do it. We’ll only figure it out through prayer, and helping each other along the way.

If virginity-auctioning-girl had such fellowship, she would have changed her mind on Day Two of that auction.

As we get older, it’ll get harder and harder to find time for each other. We’ll have husbands, and children, and work, and church, and volunteering, and sewing an Eeyore costume at the last minute for the little one’s school play she didn’t tell you about until two minutes ago. We HAVE to make each other a priority.

To be an example to each other.
To pray for each other.
To live this Christian life, together.
To be sure that OUR children, our GIRLS, have examples of what real womanhood looks like. What Biblical womanhood looks like.

:: secret Girls-Who-Love-God handshake ::


Standby…


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Introducting: My Top Tive Favorite Fancies

First, let me say, I’m pretty pumped about even being able to offer this section on my blog. I can remember thinking several months ago that I wish I was more well-versed in fine dining. Well, peeps, I’m on my way.

Lucky for me, my bf D ALSO enjoys some fine dining every once in awhile. SO, not only have I had a few fancy restaurant experiences, I’ve had enough to know which ones were outstanding, which ones weren’t so great and which ones land in My Top Five Favorite Fine Dining Establishments in Louisville.

(drumroll please)

Number Five! (no, not like The Count on Sesame Street, that guy creeps me out)

Napa River Grille. (American fancy. Steak. Fish. Etc.) I’ve only been there once, but it was such a great experience. Definitely go when it’s nice outside… they have wonderful ambience in their outdoor dining area. The food is outstanding and the service is warm and inviting.

Number Four!

Z’s. (American fancy. Steak. Fish. Oysters. Big honkin’ sides. Also, owned by Christians) It’s actually named something like Z’s Steak House and Oyster Bar or Z’s Oyster Bar and Steak House or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

I will say the ambi here gets a few minuses because of the HUGE fish tanks all over the place. I understand some people dig that, but I don’t.

That being said, the food makes it all worth it. The FOOD. Again, I’ve only been here once, but I have two words for you: “butter” and “fish”. Actually, one word: “butterfish”. Ye-ah. Again, service is outstanding.

Number Three!

Asiatique. (Pacific Rim fancy) This is the one I’ve actually been to a number of times. They have a really nice lounge with small plates and drink specials. But the couple of times I’ve eaten in the dining room definitely put this on the list. I LOVE the menu. All the flavors presented are so interesting and bold. Instead of ordering one thing, I want to have ONE BITE of everything on the menu, just to see what all that taste like! Very interesting chef that has yet to fail in my book.


Number Two!

Basa. (modern Vietnamese fancy) I’ve been here twice. And both times were extremely memorable both for food, ambience, service and overall experience. Outstanding. This is a place where you definitely want to pay attention to the specials, because they’re inventing new dishes and trying new things all the time and the specials are not to be missed.

This place has probably my favorite ambi on the list. Very romantic. Hip, but not to the point where you feel like a dork.


Number ONE!!!!

Lilly’s. (Kentucky fancy) (that’s right, KENTUCKY fancy) This place actually inspired me to make this list. I just went for the first time this weekend and it was amazing. They serve locally grown/raised foods and put them together in inventive and yet not over-the-top ways.

I will admit that any place that claims a Kentucky flare and then pulls it off with class and innovation (instead of stereotypes) will always win in my book. I’ve got a soft spot for that stuff.

But aside from that, the food was close-your-eyes, chew-slowly, try-to-remember-this-moment-forever-and-ever good. It wasn’t as inventive as some of the things on the menu at Basa or Asiatique… but executed PERFECTLY.

And our server was GREAT. It really takes a lot for me to REALLY like a server, I’m usually neutral or annoyed. But she was really, really great.


There you have it. Keep an eye on that fifth spot… there are many others that almost went there that could sneak up and take it should I happen to visit again. And many new restaurants still to discover.


Standby….


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Return to Me

I’ve had a crappy morning. I don’t need to get into specifics here, but it’s the kind of morning when after three or four crappy things happen in a row, you kind of stop and wonder if you should just go home and get back in bed. It’s not so bad that I was going to stay there all day. Maybe just doze and then get up and try it again.

In that moment, when I was sitting, staring at my blank computer, with my fingers on the home keys like I was about to type something, but I actually had no intention of the sort, thinking ‘I’m GLAD to have a job. I’m GLAD to have a job. I’m GLAD to have a job…” I realized: “God is trying to teach me something.”

(rewind two days) I started a new Bible study. It isn’t a ‘community group’ like I’ve been in in the past. It’s a really intense, Bible-centered, Scripture-heavy, homework-laden CLASS. As noted here previously, I didn’t really know what to expect, but had been praying about it, and trying to make myself open to wherever God wants me to be.

My first lesson didn’t turn out so well. Turns out, in these studies (everyone knows!) you have to do a week’s worth of homework before the first lesson. For those of you who have never met me, showing up two minutes late to something in which everyone in the room has completed an entire week’s worth of study while you’re taking the plastic wrap off your workbook is basically my idea of HADES. I actively hate everything about that.

Not only that, but it was an entirely new method of Bible study for me, and I had no idea how to do it. Apparently, everyone in the world (but me) knows how to do it, so there (of course!) is no need to learn those things… you just jump straight into the week’s worth of homework everyone (but me) did.

While I was cooling out and trying to catch up all at the same time, what I DID catch was that I *think* I like the method. I’m pretty sure I do. I just have to give it a chance in which I’ve actually ::cough:: done the work.

So last night I started doing the homework, reading the chapters, marking the key words, praying about what I’m learning, etc. It was actually a really great Bible study… the markings forced me to really pay attention to word choice and what was being said.

I am studying Isaiah 41-44. Here’s the jist:

God: “Hey Israelites, you’re my people. I really love you. Like, really really. But for some weird reason you keep making idols and worshipping them. I truly don’t get that and I think it’s terrible. But I love you, and I will keep my promises to you. And even after I’ve said that, you keep worshipping those idols, what is WRONG with you?? Have I mentioned how much I hate that?

But, because you are my people, I will never go back on my word. Come back to me. Return to me. I love you. I’ve got this plan, there’s this guy Jesus… he’s going to work it all out… really? STILL with the idols? You realize you made that out of the same stuff you build fires with, right? Even though you do that, I won’t break my promises to you. I love you. Return to me.”


So you can see, it’s easy for me to relate this to some huge sin. Creating false idols in gold? Return to Him. Neglecting corporate worship? Return to Him. Having sex outside of marriage? Return to Him. Murder someone? Return to Him.

(fast forward back to this exact moment) I’m sitting at my desk... crappy thing after crappy thing getting thrown at me… letting those things (which are really trivial) stick. Letting them stick to me, weigh me down and affect the rest of my day. Affect the way I treat people. Affect my witness.

“Return to me.”

Ding.

I mean, I may as well take the earlier summary and make it about me.

God: “Hey Steph, you’re my people. I really love you. Like, really really. But for some weird reason you keep letting worldly things become way too important to you. I truly don’t get that and I think it’s terrible. But I love you, and I will keep my promises to you. And even after I’ve said that, you keep letting silly things bring you down, what is WRONG with you?? Have I mentioned how much I hate that?

But, because you are my people, I will never go back on my word. Come back to me. Return to me. I love you. I’ve got this plan, there’s this guy Jesus… he’s going to work it all out… really? STILL with the losing sight of what’s really important? You realize NONE of this stuff you’re worried about is eternal, right? Even though you do that, I won’t break my promises to you. I love you. Return to me.”

So when someone tells me I have to work the really stinkin’ early shift (4am) at work for two and a half weeks for a guy who seems to be traveling at least a third of the time he’s supposed to be working and basically wreck any hope of having friends or a boyfriend for that time period and reduce my life to nothing but counting hours I get to sleep and how much food I have to eat to survive… I can just chill, be happy I have a job, be grateful for God’s blessings in my life, and realize that boyfriends and roommates and money and food and sleep at all things of this world.

Okay, maybe I’m not *quite* there yet. :)

But I’m working on it.

Gladly, joyfully working on it.


Standby…


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