the time I passed out at work. twice.

Sometimes things happen in my life that are so embarrassing, so bizarre, that I feel like I have the responsibility to share them with the people who have not given up on this blog (as I obviously have).

Like a few weeks ago, for instance. My right eye had been bloodshot for about two weeks. It finally got to the point where people were actually uncomfortable talking to me, and my jokes about smoking illegal drugs were growing stale. So I went to the doctor. The diagnosis? Staph infection. In my eye. Of course I freaked out a little bit, but the doctor acted like it wasn't a big deal and gave me some antibiotic eye drops and sent me on my way.

I got back to the office, and like any normal person, I started looking up staph infections on WebMD. I think it was around the third case study I read (about a wrestler whose staph infection in his eye spread to his brain), when my arm started to hurt. Naturally, I assumed that this was ol' staph doing his thing and spreading throughout my body.

Then came the nausea. And the black tunnel.

I fumbled to the door frame of my boss's office and mumbled a "I think I'm going to pass out" before hitting the ground. She slid me into her office to let me pass out with some dignity. I don't remember much about the next few minutes until I thought "OMG. I need to go to the restroom to vomit." I jumped up and ran away from the office and fumbled down the hallway again, this time bouncing between the walls like a pinball in the machine.

Then I passed out again in the hallway. Cold.

My only thoughts when I came to? "I'm having a bad hair day and this is NOT the way I want to look on a stretcher!" And worse: "I'm not wearing my cute undergarments!"

Seven paramedics and a complimentary barf bag later, I'm happy to report that I am not dying from staph infection. But if it was possible to die from embarrassment, I'm afraid I'd be a goner.

Tree of Life

I can be having the best day.

Work is great. Relationships, finances and health are all in tact. There is a pan of brownies in the oven. All seems right in my little world. And then BAM.

It hits me.

I'm not satisfied. And sometimes I honestly can't think of what would do the trick. Dinner with a friend? A talk with my mom or dad? Shopping? A long run (hahahaha)? Then I start to daydream. I think about traveling. Listen to my favorite music. Go on a drive. Go to Target. Buy an ice cream maker. This happens more than I'd like to admit.

I listened to a sermon by Tim Keller a few weeks ago that has stayed with me. He does an excellent job of explaining my search for satisfaction, and hopefully my brief synopsis can do it justice.

You see, it all goes back to the tree of life. Paradise. We had it. Then we lost it. This tree is discussed in Genesis, Proverbs and Revelation, and it represents fullness of life; satisfaction of all desires- creative, physical, emotional. We lost all of it when we turned to be our own masters.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but longing fulfilled is the tree of life."- Proverbs 13:12

The tree of life is what we're really looking for in everything we do (job, vacation, things that promise joy). It is an image of irretrievable loss and cosmic nostalgia. We remember what we've never had.

"Our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something from the universe in which we now feel cut off, is no mere neurotic fantasy, but the truest index of our real situation."- C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

The tree of life.

In the Garden of Eden, God says to Adam, "Obey me about the tree and you will live."

In the Garden of Gethsemane, God says to the second Adam, "Obey me about the tree and you will be crushed." Christ turned the tree of death into the tree of life for us. 


Christ is our satisfaction. 

Every time I search for pretty bedspreads on Pinterest. Every time I watch the Travel Channel. Every time I listen to that song that just makes my heart jump. I'm really aching for paradise. For Christ.

This perspective has allowed me to see things as they really are- that all of my hopes and desires are really something deeper. It has also made me evaluate where my hope truly lies. Is my hope in dainty cups and saucers from Anthopologie? They won't last. The dream job? There will always be something better. That trip to Ireland? It will come to an end.

I'm so thankful for the things and people I can enjoy on earth. But I hope I'm never completely satisfied with them. I want longing fulfilled. I want the Tree of Life.

roughin' it

I, Brittany Todd, went camping last weekend. And loved it.

Yes, you read that correctly. 

The last time I went camping was 18 years ago. In a Barbie tent in my backyard.

But this was really fun. 

The company was stellar.

And the whole "nature" thing wasn't as overrated as I expected.

As it turns out, this whole "roughin' it" thing wasn't so rough after all. I can't wait to go on another adventure (assuming the next adventure will include bathrooms). Now if you'll excuse me, Brittany Grylls is going to go hug her hair dryer. Twenty-four hours was way too long. 


Happy Trails!

waking up in April

It happens every year. The winter goes by slowly. The days are short. My toes are cold. And when I'm not sitting by my mini heater or wrestling to get into a pair of tights, I notice that my soul tends to get a little cold, too.

I find myself clinging. Holding on to His promises: that He's not through with me yet. That He will complete the good work that He started. That He won't leave me in this cold, hardened state.

And then spring comes. Sometimes sooner than I expected. And then a girl named Audrey Assad writes a song that sums up what I've been feeling for the past four months:

What if we find ourselves beneath the snow,

our warmest words all frozen in our throats

and all we feel is left out in the cold,

you and I?

What if the days grow short and lose their light,

What if the coals burn black and the embers die,

and we can't find each other in the night,

you and I?

Even the winter won't last forever

We'll see the morning, we'll feel the sun

We'll wake up in April, ready and able

Sowing the seeds in the soil

of our love

What if the ice we tread is just too thin?

What if we can't escape the squall we're in?

What if our hearts of stone are permanent?

What if the spring comes soon

and we're surprised?

What if the seasons help us realize,

some things are only proven over time?

Pretty, but they still make me nauseous.

Silly string

While I'm dealing with the seasons of my own soul, I also know that my feelings are only magnifying the much larger story that is at work.

"For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved." Romans 8:20

The winter won't last forever. The curse has been broken. Spring is coming.

Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,

At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,

When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,

And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.

- C.S. Lewis, The Chronicles of Narnia

Faux Pas in Ft. Lauderdale

I've had the wonderful opportunity to do some traveling for work lately. About a month ago I got to go to a sales meeting for one of our affiliate companies. The meeting was in Delray Beach, Florida. Sometimes you just have to make sacrifices.

I presented during four breakout sessions at the meeting. After finishing my first session, I went to go eat lunch and prepare for the next session. While thinking about my next presentation and trying to calm a little bit of nerves, I decided to slip into the ladies room in the hotel lobby for one last visit and mirror check. I had a lot on my mind at this point. What should I do differently in this session? Should I leave out the ventriloquism part this time? Was my entrance to "This is How We Do It" a little much?

As I came out of the stall, I noticed two things. 1) That sure is one masculine woman standing in front of the wall. 2) Why are there urinals in the ladies room?

Panic.

What's a girl to do when she not only enters a men's restroom, but proceeds to actually use it and then exits to find a man in action? I faced the following options:

1) Quietly go back in the stall. I could always stand on the toilet so no one would see my heels, but there is no telling how long I would have to wait if men kept coming in. Risk involved: I could miss my presentation. Or fall in the toilet.

2) Pray that Jesus comes back right that second. Downside: I would be in a men's restroom when Jesus comes back.

3) Don't think at all and draw as much attention to myself as possible: run out of the bathroom, hand over my eyes, and say "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." Risk involved: Man hears a girl's heels and voice and sees me. Impending embarrassment is certain.

You guessed it: I chose option 3. In my defense, I really didn't have time to weigh all of these options at the time. As it turns out, the man in the restroom was the person I had been presenting with the whole time. He was such a good sport, and had I had the choice, I couldn't have chosen someone kinder or more understanding to meet in the men's restroom. We had a good laugh about it.

Before I knew it, the story started to "leak" throughout the company. People were asking me about the "incident." Some asked if I needed help finding the ladies room. But the worst zinger of all was: "Brittany, did you wash your hands?" Of course I didn't; I had much more pressing matters at that point. I think this has brought me just as much shame as the incident itself.

I quickly realized that this story would follow me for the rest of my career/life. I've accepted and embraced it. I thoroughly enjoyed the week, and I'm thankful for the opportunity to meet such gracious and fun people. I obviously learned a lot...

...and now I'm proud to be one of the boys.

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!"