Definitions

We are creatures of definition and we allow/seek many things to define us.

You already know this, I'm sure. But would you like to hear me talk about it? Good. Here I go.

Appearances define us. Our clothes and makeup tell others our opinions of ourselves. Our hair is a good indicator of our personal hygiene. Our weight boasts our greatest struggles or our greatest accomplishments. Our posture proclaims our mood.

Music defines us. Oh you listen to country? Does that mean you grew up on a farm? Oh you listen to rap? You thug. Oh you listen to rock? What a conformist. Oh you listen to jazz? You really think you're that cool? Oh you listen to _______? You must be _________.

Home defines us. Do you live in a city, suburb, or the country? Is your house big or small or nonexistent? How do you decorate? Is your place a mess or is it tidy? Is your lawn mowed? Is your dorm door open or closed? Why is that poster/painting there? Is home full of pets? Is it full of plants? Is it full of people? Are you alone? Do you ever have visitors? What do you keep in your fridge? How furnished is it? What are the colors?

Gender defines us. I can't [wear that/say that/eat that/read that/go to that place] because I'm a girl.
I can't [wear that/say that/eat that/read that/go to that place] because I'm a guy.

Sexual orientation defines us. That guy is so flamboyant, he must be gay. Why is that girl wearing clothes like that? Is she a lesbian? That guy is definitely straight; look at how he ogles those ladies. That girl is such a slut, I think she likes guys a little too much. "I am sexually confused and don't want to be made fun of..."

Wealth defines us. Anywhere from the vast populations of poverty-stricken countries to the few billionaires. How much money do you make? How much did that cost for you?

Actions define us. My college major is ______. My job is ______. My hobbies are ______. Over the summer I will be doing ______. In my spare time I ______. One time I _____.

Our creations define us. What you build, make, sew, paint, bake, grow, or concoct is a product of your imagination. Our internal being is reflected and expressed in these external, tactile items.

Religion defines us. As an elementary student I clearly remember being asked on the playground, "Are you Catholic or Christian?" (Whatever that means.) But what about the girl that wears the hijab or the guy who wears the Wiccan pentacle around his neck? Who do we pray to?

Childhood defines us. Were your parents loving and caring providers or were they abusive and neglectful? How did the kids at school treat you? Did you have exciting fun experiences or were you bored in front of a TV screen? Was there a traumatic experience that haunts you to this day? Did you love something? Did someone die? Did you have siblings? Did you get yelled at for bad grades or did the teacher tell all the other kids that they should follow your example? Did you laugh?

Names define us. What do people call you? What do those names mean? How do they reflect your character?

Friends define us. How they act, how they dress, how they talk, how they influence us. From getting high to sitting in a pew, we follow their lead.

What we love defines us.

~

Many of us, I'm sure, would say that these "definitions" are a bad thing. And for the most part, they are. The extent the world leads us to take them to is definitely bad. We take them way too seriously. However, at the same time, we need them. We need to be defined, because if we had nothing with which to define us, everyone would be in a heck of an identity crisis.

We need to be our own person, definitely. We need to express ourselves and we need our quirks and uniquenesses and our stories. We need those to be us. We are allowed to change ourselves and make decisions about who we are.

But we also are creations. We also are ourselves products and expressions of creativity. So how can we let that define us?

Psalm 139:13-16 says:
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

Allow yourself to be the person you were born to be and allow yourself to be changed for the good.

Be you.

In closing, I would like to share some things that came up in the comments on my recent facebook status. I asked, "For a blog post: What are things that 'define' us?"

Garrett P. said, "'Its not who I am underneath, but what I do, that defines me.' -Batman from the Batman Begins"

Amy B. said, "Depends on who's doing the defining. God defines me as His child, and a saint (righteous). Sometimes perhaps a very childish saint. I define myself according to my mission: I am a witness for the Savior. I have to be careful not to let my self-definition devolve into my WORK, which is infinitely inferior to my mission. The world defines me by what they see; some see a teacher, some a healer, some a dog lover, and some a really obnoxious, prideful stinker. And we are all correct. In the end, only one will matter. I'm counting on my Father's mercy and justice."

and, of course, Amber B. said, "aliens. aliens define us. manta rays are also a big factor, as well as clowns. clowns define a lot of people. just sayin." She later added, "the history channel defines us...horoscopes...fossilized remains of wooly mammoths...watermelon...."

Be you.

God bless.

Bad Relationship Advice

Someone once told me, "You'll know you've found the one when it doesn't feel like work."

I smiled and nodded at the time to appease this person so that their advice would seem appreciated (as I was not in a place with this person that I felt comfortable arguing). But I took it with a grain of salt.

On the contrary, any worthwhile relationship is work.

For example, your relationship with your friends requires time, a listening ear, making an effort to show you care, driving around, paying for something you don't really want to pay for. Work! Worth it? Absolutely, but it is work nonetheless.

What about your children? Even as someone with none of her own, I understand at least a fraction of the gravity of work it takes to raise a child. How much sacrifice could that possibly take? Thousands of dollars, missed sleep, feeding them, clothing them, teaching them how to take care of themselves, actually teaching them pretty much everything they need to know, driving them around, drying their tears, cleaning more poopy bottoms than you ever wanted or could imagine. Sacrifice. Work. And hopefully well, well worth it.

Your relationship with God requires work. As any Christian  will probably tell you, it's not all sunshine and rainbows and a perpetual spiritual high. It's persecution and conviction and humbling and striving and work. Worth it? Yes, every second. Amen and halleluiah.

Why would a romantic relationship be any different?

Should a romantic relationship always be skipping hand-in-hand through a field of lollipops? Should it always be hugs and smiles? Should there always be agreement and never any argument or conflict whatsoever? Should it just be a happy trip from dating to the glorious walk down the aisle to perfect kids in a perfect house into the peaceful happily ever after? Is that realistic? Well, maybe it would be nice, but no.

It's not going to be easy. It's not always going to be fun. It's going to be work, and it's going to piss you off and make you want to cry and curl into a ball and stress you out and frustrate you. But if the relationship is worth it, you keep working. You keep pushing. You keep investing time. You keep loving. You work on intimacy. You work on friendship. You work on encouragement. And yes, it will actually feel like hard work sometimes. But, like the paycheck you get from your job at the end of the month, sometimes the work is well worth it.


God bless.

The Hang Drum

The hang is a drum reminiscent (in my opinion) of steel drums, but not as bright-sounding. It sounds very soothing and can be accompanied by a variety of exotic (usually percussive) instruments. 

(photo from Wikipedia)

And I love it.

You can learn all kinds of fun facts about the hang from Wikipedia. But that's not why I'm here right now. I am here simply to tell you about my newfound joy. Because you probably care enough about me to hear all about it. Right? Right.

I was introduced to hang music back in the winter by my good friend, Alex, and thought it was great but promptly forgot about it.

However, a week or two ago, I rediscovered it (reintroduced it to myself) and have been listening to this gorgeous and relaxing "stoner music"a lot since then--mostly by completely abusing YouTube.

Funny thing, I was listening to it and thought Alex would like it, totally forgetting where I had heard of it, and posted a video on his facebook wall, only to be embarrassed when he told me he was the one that introduced me to it. Bad friend award for me. The end.

Anyway, I thought I had a lot more to say on this topic, but I guess I don't.

I feel like I have weird musical interests. Because I'm a music major, people think it's appropriate to ask what kind of music I like/listen to. I hate this question. My favorite band will always and forever be Relient K, but I also like bluegrass, and apparently now hang music. I'm not even sure of what genre that falls under. Oh, and I guess I like Johnny Cash. And Adele. And Queen. And organ music. And that one horribly depressing but awesome-sounding song that my sister introduced me to.

So yeah. Please don't ask what kind of music I like. I won't know what to tell you. But I love music, and now I love the hang, and that's all I have to say.


God bless.

Restlessness

Every now and then, but not frequently, I want to run away.

It's not that I'm dissatisfied with my life... well, not really anyway.

It's just that I'm bored. I've never had a ridiculously traumatic experience or am living a terrible life. I just sort of feel like I'm living a boring, predictable life. And I should find great comfort in that. In fact, I usually do. Things could be so much worse for me. But sometimes, that is, once in a blue moon, it's not enough and I hunger for more.

Right now is one of those moments.

Several people at church asked me tonight what I had going this week that I was excited for, or looking forward to, or that I could use prayer for-- and I had no real answer to give them. On the chalkboard section of the wall in the bathroom (at said church), someone had written, "What are you waiting for?" I didn't know. I was waiting for nothing. So I wrote, "Something to happen." I wasn't trying to be melodramatic; I was trying to be honest.

So I came home and I have been sitting in my room staring into space for 20 minutes while Amy does Bible homework, and thinking about what the heck my problem is.

I still can't say what that problem is, but the ingenious solution I came up with was running away.

So goodbye everyone, I'm going to Brazil or India or possibly the deepest, most remote part of Africa, and I am going to learn another culture and become someone different instead of merely the person I have learned to be. I am going to take God with me (of course, because I take him everywhere with me, he is my beloved constant companion), and we are going to experience something other than Ohio where I drive a car and eat food that is given to me on a plastic plate with silverware and napkins. I am going to see an incredible animal and hear and play new music and dance boldly with all my might around a fire at night under starlight and eat my meal sitting on the ground with no shoes on. I want to communicate with someone through laughter alone, someone whose language I do not know (yet).

Also I am going someplace warm because I am grumpy that winter is impending here.

I will miss everyone terribly and I will write you all letters and hope to receive a reply but I do not know when I will see you again... here, there, or in the air, I guess.


...What does God want of/for me?? Why do I feel this restlessness?


God bless.

Superhero

If I could be a superhero, I know exactly what I'd want my power to be.


Reading minds.

It's true. I legitimately love getting into people's heads and figuring them out, figuring out what's going on up there.

Maybe that's why I'm a psychology major.

This isn't some weird sick pleasure. I like knowing because I care about you people. I just like understanding the human psyche and how it affects what we do. And, in turn, maybe I can help. Maybe. Hopefully.

I just feel like being able to read minds automatically instead of always trying to dig deeper would be so much more convenient. It would save the trouble of actually spending time and getting to know a person...sheesh! What a drag! (facetious)

So it will come as no surprise to you when we had Superhero Tuesday for dinner at camp, that I became Synapse, the evil villain who can read minds. I wish I had pictures to show you, as I'm sure I was a sight to behold. I put my hair up in crazy ponytails, tied a brightly-colored scarf around my neck as a cape, put on crazy, bold makeup, and carried a slinky around, holding it an arch and moving the ends up and down obsessively while I stared at people.

But Synapse was not the only Superhero (or super villain, in that case) I became this summer.

The next time Superhero Tuesday came around, I was PopTab Princess, clad in my many pop tab belts wrapped around my various limbs, and fighting crime by expelling pop tabs out of my hands/fingers.

The last week of camp, a last-minute revelation transformed me into Captain Hygiene. A shower cap on the top of my head, a towel as my cape, a loufa around my wrist, a toothbrush and Q-tips stuck into my ponytail of dreads, and carrying a tube of toothpaste, which I would dramatically "squirt" into people's unclean, unbrushed mouths. I was valiant indeed.

I don't remember that many other people's superhero entities, but I remember Caroline's dressing up in pajamas and saving the world from homesickness, and Sarah's dressing and walking all backwards, saving the world from logic.

Now.
Here's my question for you.

If you have ever dressed up as a superhero, what/who was it?
-or-
If you were to dress up as a superhero, what/who would it be?
-or-
What would your ideal superpower be?

Go.


God bless.