NSF

I think the thing I'm most looking forward to when I'm rich and famous is never seeing the words, "New Overdraft/Non-Sufficient Funds Notice" in my email inbox again.




Sigh.

Jesus and the Dinosaurs

My friend Billy sent me this with the caption, "I didn't understand evolution until this simple graphic explained the truth!" To me, this just perfectly captures the illogical weirdness that otherwise educated and intelligent people make room for in their belief systems that, when drawn out, just don't make sense. For instance, my friend has a master's degree in organic chemistry and she believes that there really were two of every kind of animal on Noah's arc. Really? Two of every animal? On a boat for forty days? That Noah built? Because God wanted to destroy all humans? Really? Or there's my friend, James, who still believes that we have never landed on the moon. And my friend, Cara, who believes that everyone is gay. Everyone, but we're all in denial.

I know I've got some too. I know that there are some really illogical ideas that I hold as truth simply because, if I question them, I'll realize that they're crazy. And then there goes my whole belief system. Like the belief that I need everyone to like me. And the belief that if someone's mad at me I'm to blame. And the belief that every relationship problem I've ever had is my fault.

This, of course, flows over into my parenting. I already know that every problem Jack will have in his life is because of me. I didn't prepare him well enough, I didn't model setting boundaries for him, I should have stayed home with him, he should have eaten only organic foods... I am your classic guilty parent.

Here's another one: conflict is scary and bad. Maybe this is the biggest one. Maybe this is the belief that I hold onto that drives my crazy behavior. I avoid conflict like the plague. You know that cooking show, Hell's Kitchen? Can't watch it. Or Jerry Springer? Nope. Even most court TV shows like Judge Judy send my anxiety through the roof. I can't stand to watch people in conflict.

Being this afraid of conflict is kind of like my friend, Cara, being angry that her mom won't admit to being gay. Which she isn't. And maybe conflict isn't bad. Maybe conflict is just something that naturally occurs when two or more people are placed in the same space. And maybe it feels bad but that's what gets us to communicate about it and reach an agreement. Or change our minds about the position we're holding. Or agree to disagree and still respect one another.

So maybe I need to rethink my illogical and weird views on conflict. Maybe my ridgid belief that conflict is bad and should be avoided at all costs is absurd. Maybe it has other people shaking their heads in disbelief, thinking, "You know, Amber is a bright girl but she still believes that conflict is bad. Can you believe it" Maybe this belief has been the big dinosaur in the room of my life... which, by the way, we don't know if Jesus ever rode them. But he probably did.

Invitation.

I feel like its time for me to step into something. My grandeur. My potential. The reality of who I am. My fullness.

This scares me, somehow. It feels a little bit like walking down the aisle with someone that I don't really know, but have a hint of. Can I count on me? Can I trust that what I see in me is real? Am I really going to be there for myself? What if what everyone said about me was true?

I can stay at the back of the church, scared and stuck. That's where I've been for a while, now. Scared and stuck, not ready to commit, uncertain about what it is I'm getting myself into. I feel a beckoning, an invitation, a proposal, if you will, to own my greatness. To claim it. To claim my portion of Life and live it to the fullest. It's mine, after all. No one else can use it. It'll just go to waste, otherwise.

But I'm scared. I'm scared to let go of convenience and safety and the norm. I'm scared that I'm delusional and will fall on my face and that I'll have no place to go. I'm afraid that my dad will shake his head at me and say, "Amber, you should have just gotten a job and sent Jack to public school, like everyone else. You had to be a dreamer, didn't you. Well, look where it got you."

Which is so stupid because my dad would be the first one to encourage me to go big in life. In fact, I think the reality is that he's sitting around, shaking his head, wondering why I haven't been on Oprah yet. He believes in me. It's me who's still unsure.

The hesitation place I've been in, the stuckness, is getting so uncomfortable that I'm listening to that invitation with perked interest. "What can you promise me?" I ask it. "Will you guarantee my happiness? Do you promise that I won't look like an ass?"

It shakes it's head and says back, "Silly girl. I love you."

What does it mean that I'm attracted to this guy?

And the guitar player, too.