Believe

I watched The Santa Clause this week. It is one of my favorite Christmas movies, and it is the only movie that I can quote in its entirety. My dad bought it for me when it first came out on VHS to keep me entertained while my mom was out shopping the day after Thanksgiving. We ended up setting all of our dining room chairs like reindeer just like Charlie did. The movie holds a special place in my heart.

If you'll recall, the plot revolves around the belief in Santa Claus. At one point the main character (Scott Calvin) and his son (Charlie) are at the North Pole, and Scott points out a polar bear directing traffic. "I see it, but I don't believe it," he says. "Seeing isn't believing; Believing is seeing," says Judy the elf (not to be confused with Judy the server from Denny's). "Kids don't have to see this place to know that's it's here. They just... know."

Of course, The Santa Clause is not the only movie that encourages children of all ages to "Just believe!" in Santa. There's also Miracle on 34th Street and every movie on the Disney or Lifetime channels. While they all seem to have hijacked the sacredness of belief, they do seem to mimic and mirror what a lot of us are thinking this season:

The story of the birth and resurrection of Jesus sounds absurd.

There, I said it.

I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe that man is deeply flawed, unable to save ourselves. I believe that God humbled himself and was born into the world as a helpless, fragile baby so that He could show us how to live, free us from the law, and make a way for me to approach the Most High.

"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." John 1:14

I believe.

But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that every now and then, the absurdity of this story catches me off guard. It all really does sound weird. Unbelievable, even.

"Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel." Isaiah 7:14

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." Isaiah 9:6

"And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, "Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased." Luke 2:8

I believe.

Because He did exactly what He said He would do. But in a way we never expected. That's the God I serve.

Not unlike Scott Calvin, I sometimes find myself in the North Pole with the traffic-directing polar bears. I also often find myself taking analogies way too far. What I mean is, I have seen and I have tasted the goodness of the Lord. I've experienced too much of His grace to not believe all that He has said and done.

"Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls." 1 Peter 1:8

Oh, I believe.

"I believe; Help my unbelief!"- Mark 9:24

pioneer party

Have you ever heard of the Pioneer Woman? If you answered "No," I'm going to give you a few minutes to get out from under that giant boulder you've been hiding under for the past few years. I hope you're okay.

If you answered "Yes," then you know exactly how excited we were when we discovered that Pioneer Woman (also known as Ree Drummond) would be having her own cooking show on Food Network.

So excited, in fact, that we decided to have a Ree-themed viewing party, complete with a lasso station (or Rubbermaid tubs with dinosaur hats on top), a hayride, and of course... Pioneer Woman dishes.

With all of this pageantry and hoopla, we almost forgot about actually watching the show (although the guys in the group would have been okay had we never remembered). The show didn't quite live up to our expectations, but we blamed it all on the producers. It could never be Ree's fault. We just comforted our disappointment with more meatloaf, spicy Dr. Pepper shredded pork, and monster cookies.

And we cried "Ree, Ree, Ree" all the way home.

evidence that I am alive

Clockwise from left:

1. Felt dumb when my red velvet heart cupcakes turned into distorted organs.

2. Started a new job. Yep, I'm a pilot.

3. Went to the beach and survived on Nutella. Got embarrassed when my aunt saw me taking a picture of said Nutella.

4. Celebrated my cousin's departure for college while being entertained by my grandfather's impression of Rupert from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.

5. Went to the drive-in. Sweat a little. Laughed a lot.

6. Rejoiced in the fact that George W. Bush saved Vivian's life at a rally once. We're glad she's alive to celebrate year 23.

7. Tried to get fancy and make my photos look like other bloggers'. Did not succeed.

GBA

Ah, Independence Day. I love this day for many reasons.

Sure, I like the fireworks and hot dogs.

And yeah, who doesn't like a little obnoxious American elitism here and there?

But what I love most about the Fourth of July is not the food, the Lee Greenwood song, or even those popper things that you throw on the ground (although all of these rank pretty high).

No, I love the unity. For one day each year, it seems like everyone is on the same team. No Alabama or Auburn. No Republicans or Democrats. No Mac users or PC users. This night we are just citizens celebrating the great experiment that is the United States of America.

Yes, this country has some issues. We're still fumbling around and trying to figure how this experiment is going to turn out. We look stupid sometimes, and it's easy to see all of our flaws. Injustice. Political scandals. Inequality. Debt crisis. Obesity. Lindsay Lohan.

But I can't help but be proud of how far we've come in 200 something years. I can't help but be thankful for the trails that have been blazed and wars that have been fought. I can't help but think of the One who "shed His grace on thee."

So as I sit here eating my leftover banana pudding and watching Next Food Network Star, I realize that I am reaping benefits that I did not earn, and I certainly do not deserve. That's something to celebrate.

Goodnight, and God Bless America.

portions

If I have talked to you in the past two weeks, there is a big chance I've brought up the subject of portions. I'm sorry. But I've had a revelation, and I just can't keep it to myself.

I'm on an Elisabeth Elliot kick right now. And yes, you guessed it... I'm about to quote the heck out of her. I know what you're thinking: "Brittany, do you ever have original thoughts of your own?" The answer is "sometimes." But they mostly involve where I'm going to eat for lunch. Elisabeth just puts things so perfectly.

Keep a Quiet Heart is a book she compiled of newsletter articles she has written over the years. The first article of the book is about Jesus sleeping during the raging storm. It wasn't a negligent nap. He wasn't being lazy. He "knew when to take action and when to leave things up to His Father. He taught us to work and watch but never worry, to do gladly whatever we are given to do, and to leave all else with God."

In the midst of these volatile twenty-something years that are full of big decisions and uncertainty, this is an extremely comforting reminder.

Lord, You have assigned me my portion and my cup,

and have made my lot secure. -Psalm 16:5

Elisa (we're on a nickname basis) goes on to say: "Every assignment is measured and controlled for my eternal good. As I accept the given portion other options are cancelled. Decisions become much easier, directions clearer, and hence my heart becomes inexpressibly quieter... All is under my Father's control: yes, relcalcitrant computers, faulty transmissions, drawbridges which happen to be up when one is in a hurry. My portion. My cup. My lot is secure. My heart can be at peace. My Father is in charge. How simple!"

Now for another kind of (simple) portion.

Strawberry shortcake. Can't stop making it.

Whipping cream However much you want

Sugar Until it tastes good

Vanilla Until it looks good

Put it all in a bowl.

Whip it. Whip it good.

Celebrate good times (come on!)

Now I just need some portion control.

Or not.

Memorializing

This will be short and sweet... just like last weekend.

We celebrated Memorial Day at the lake with my family.

We saluted our heroes,

went fishing (fishing = getting someone else to do the work while I reel them in),

had a classy photo shoot,

and ate entirely too much.

Told you this would be quick.

Welcome, Summer 2011. And God Bless America.

bits and banjos

I'm going to get around to a Memorial Day post soon, but right now there are only three things on my mind.

1) When are overalls coming back in style? I'm ready.

2) Will people at work make fun of me if I bring strawberry shortcake for lunch tomorrow?

3) Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers. I'm hooked. Here's one of the only decent quality videos I can find:

Somebody get me a mandolin STAT. And tell me to ease up on the excessive video posting. Also, you should keep an eye out for Sarah Jarosz in the future. I'm calling it: she's going to be a big deal.

First I was loving Scottish music; now bluegrass.

Next stop: polka.

Give a hot mess a new meaning

I feel like I took a nap in April and woke up on May 28. Where has this month gone? What have I been doing?

I'll tell you what I've been doing.

A whole lot of "not blogging." With work, celebrations and a beach trip mixed in. Add some devastating tornadoes that ripped through the state, and you've got the roller-coaster months that were April and May. Rejoicing with those who rejoice. Weeping with those who weep. Relief. Sorrow. Complete joy. It's been a doozie.

I have also been learning this fun lesson called "Brittany is farther from perfect than she ever imagined." It's been really fun.

I'm reading a book called Don't Call it a Comeback: The Old Faith for a New Day by Kevin DeYoung. I highly recommend it. In a chapter called "Being Authentically Messed Up is Not Enough," Owen Strachan, one of the book's other authors, says this:

"[Sanctification] is not a mood. Neither is it a code. Sanctification is a dynamic outworking of the gospel in the life of every believer. This process of conforming to God thrives not when we tweak our attitude here, and modify our behavior there, but when we grow entranced with God, and Christ the 'founder and perfecter of our faith' looms large before us, magnificent in holiness, awesome in splendor, tenacious in love."

And my favorite:

"Sanctification is at base a tenacious grip on the robe of Christ, a wrestling with the Lord to bless us, a sojourn in the valley of death in pursuit of a city we cannot see."

Gripping, wrestling, and pleading. That sounds about right. I sure hope He continues to perfect this faith. Because I'm a mess.

Speaking of not being perfect:

I hope you all have a wonderful long weekend. I'm headed to the lake for a little R&R (Ribs and Relaxation). Happy Memorial Day to all, and to all a good night!

*Yes, the title of this post is from a Black Eyed Peas song. Judge away.

Ode to Stephen Colbert (not in haiku form)

Surely you have seen this by now:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLAMhTorPCk

Genius. Jimmy Fallon and Stephen Colbert had a bet. Stephen lost, and therefore had to sing Rebecca Black's now-famous "Friday" on Jimmy's show. And then the world became a better place.

Stephen and I go way back. Meaning, I jumped on the bandwagon about the same time everyone else did. Also, I went to his rally when I was in DC. And I can't believe I never told you about it.

Not to be outdone by Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity, Stephen latched on with his Rally to Restore Fear. The result? The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. Politically, I think I was a little outnumbered that day. But it sure was fun. And needless to say, Mr. Colbert is a hoot and a half.

Making an entrance--Chilean miner style.

Jon brought Cat Stevens (or whatever his name is now) to sing "Peace Train."

Stephen brought Ozzy to sing "Crazy Train."

Fighting ensued.

But then the O'Jays came out to sing "Love Train," and all was well.

While the rally itself was hysterical (and worth standing in a two-by-two foot space for six hours), I'd have to say my favorite part was the signage:

Just trying to make a statement, I guess.

So controversial!

My third favorite part was getting to meet some *other* Chilean miners...

Thanks for letting me reminisce. And sorry for getting you stuck on "Friday."

Hope you're having a great weekend, and in the words of Rebecca Black and Stephen Colbert, "partyin', partyin'... YEAH!"

Ode to Old Navy (in haiku form)

I like your cheap clothes.

Your commercials are quite weird.

Your tank tops are cute.

Search sometimes fruitless.

But it's all about the hunt.

Khaki shorts are fun.

Excited for spring.

Please keep the cute thongs coming.

By that I mean shoes.

Some make fun of you.

I say, "Good, more deals for me!"

And then I punch them.

The end. Happy Spring!

traveling light

I cleaned out my closet and attic last weekend.

Hi, my name is Brittany and I am a hoarder.

I've been feeling the need to rid my life of all unnecessary junk, and Saturday was the perfect opportunity. Like with any huge cleaning job, things got a lot worse before they got better. It wasn't pretty, and at one point I found myself in the fetal position. While the process was painstaking and miserable, I did find some wonderful treasures along the way.

Like my beloved Tomagatchi Game Boy,

Don't pretend you didn't have one.

a "My Bundle Baby" pouch (that ACTUALLY KICKED),

I never realized how bizarre this toy was until now.

and my life's work from fifth grade.

1) Flying to London over the Pacific Ocean? Come on, Brittany.

2) This Mack character sounds like a creep.

And then there was this:

Just hangin' out in front of a waterfall with Simba.

I'm not including a picture of the small jar of my baby teeth that I found. You're welcome. I was really proud of those.

Even though it's been a joy to rediscover these lost relics (minus the teeth), I don't mind letting some of them go. I have the urge to purge, a desire to simplify.

I want to travel light.

It is becoming more clear to me every day that this world is not my home. And with the earthquakes, wars and disease, I'm really thankful for this. I know I've mentioned Donald Miller on this blog before. I don't take everything he says as absolute truth, but I do appreciate his perspective on a lot of things. Like his perspective in a blog post on Grappling with Control and the Fear of Dying:

"This whole following Jesus business is largely about giving Him control, or more, realizing we don’t have control to begin with. And a great way to measure whether or not we’ve given Him our lives is to ask ourselves if we’ve given Him our death. By that I mean are we are okay with the fact that some day soon we are going to part with all that we’ve made, all that we’ve done, and no longer have an ounce of control over what happens on the earth?"

How I went from Tomagatchis to death, I do not know. But I do know this: the grass withers. The flowers fade. My Newbery Award-Winning book will turn to dust. And that's okay with me.

I do love my life and I have been abundantly blessed in my short time on this earth. But I have also heard the Lord whisper, "Don't get too comfortable, kid. You ain't seen nothin' yet."

I'll trade my Game Boy any day.

JibJabbin'

Last year I thought I had the smartest, funniest, most thoughtful idea. I would make my friend a JibJab video for her birthday. I giggled to myself as I thought about her reaction. It was going to be her favorite Facebook post, for sure.

For more than an hour I sat in my apartment and chose a video template, uploaded pictures, and meticulously cropped our heads to look proportionate to the bodies. As I clicked "Done" and looked for the URL code, I was greeted with a nice message that congratulated me on my new video. It also told me that it would only cost $12 a year to become an exclusive member at JibJab. It also wouldn't let me post the video without paying said $12.

You're now looking at a card-carrying exclusive member of JibJab. Be impressed. Or tell me I'm the biggest sucker in America.

I've decided to take full advantage of my credentials and make as many of these babies as possible. I know, JibJab videos were so 2009, but I'm still entertained nonetheless. I'm riding this fad train to the last station; I've invested too much time and money to turn back now.

Please enjoy my latest creation. Kenneth Parcell and I had a blast at Soul Night at our community center last weekend. Hope you like our moves (as well as our many wardrobe changes).

So how did my friend like her video? Unfortunately I had a mild lapse in judgement and decided on the "Farting Office Birthday Song." Turns out that's not the most tasteful video to be posting on someone's wall. But I know she appreciated the thought, even if it was crude and a little unbecoming.

Be on the lookout for more videos in the future, and don't be surprised if you get one of these for your birthday. I'm about to go do some ribbon dancing with Justin Beiber. Peace!

True Brit

Get it? Like the movie True Grit? Aren't jokes so funny when I have to explain them?

Remember Emma, my friend who is in grad school in London? Remember when I said I would crash her flat?

Being a woman of my word, I hopped the pond with my friend Alison two weeks ago to fulfill my promise (or threat) to visit Emma. As it turns out, Emma is actually living a in a fairy tale. No, she isn't psychologically disillusioned. Her life has literally been ripped from the pages of a storybook.

She is getting her Master's from Regent's College. This is what her school looks like:

Can this really be considered "school"? It looked like one of Bert's chalk drawings in Mary Poppins.

Only without the merry-go-round. There were talking penguins, though.

She lives here:

Sigh with me.

And she gets to do this every day:

tea and dessert twenty times a day

Emma really has become a True Brit. She knows London like the back of her hand, which is a good thing considering Alison and I would have surely perished without her. She was a gracious hostess, and even let us sleep in her bed while she slept on a half-inflated air mattress. That is love.

We had a blast and took the city by storm. My favorite thing we did? That's like asking me to choose my favorite child (if I had about 50 kids with names such as "Going To The Cotswolds" or "Seeing The Funniest Bar Fight At A Pub In Oxford"). Nevertheless, I'm gonna go with "Being With My Friends In London." For sure.

My least favorite part of the trip? Easy. Getting pooped on.

How does that even happen?

We hit the "big" sites like Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, and everything else you would expect to visit in London. But my favorite memories were in the unexpected moments.

Examples include:

lurking in some graveyards

dropping by my old neighborhood

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not really Asian.

napping in the museums

celebrating Valentine's Day

klassy

getting lost but not really in a hedge maze at Henry VIII's palace

dead end

seeing the big guy himself

pretty nice guy, if you forget about his wife-killing tendencies

meeting new people (even if they didn't speak back)

this guy was such a bore

hanging out with our friend Ann Elizabeth

portable friend courtesy of Alison

and planning our next trip!

Just kidding, Emma. We'll give you some time to recuperate. So is next week good for you?