MY BLOG POSTS

We all have routines. Athletes have them. Actors have them. Businessmen and women have them. Most of us are creatures of habit, and those habits help us do what we do to the best of our ability. In fact, my friend, Charity, a volleyball coach, says that when players don’t follow through on their routine, they often miss their serve. (My daughter Emma, below, has to slap the ball exactly three times before serving it). So routines are good. They are normal. I am telling you this because I am about to tell you my writer’s routine. It is a little…weird. Okay, I am a little weird. Maybe more than a little. But I wanted to preface this with an explanation: routines are good. Everybody has them. I am not a freak.

Now that we have established the ground rules for reading this post, I give you My Writer’s Routine (insert drumroll):

• Make a full pot of coffee
• Read my Bible
• Stay in my pj’s (comfy=creative)
• Make cup of coffee #1
• Open the blinds so I can see outside
• Check my e-mail
• Check my Facebook
• Make cup of coffee #2
• Check e-mail and Facebook again, just in case something came up in the last 10 minutes that I might need to know
• Check the library website to see if the books I requested are on hold yet
• Open the folder that contains the book I am working on
• Make cup of coffee #3
• Remind myself that three cups of coffee in one hour makes me sick and I shouldn’t do it again
• Pour a big glass of water to dilute all the caffeine in my system
• Take a bathroom break
• Eat breakfast
• One more check of my Facebook and e-mail
• A mental flogging that I have now wasted an hour and half of precious writing time drinking coffee and checking Facebook
• Maximize my Word document and begin where I left off
• (Unless it’s been a while, then I need to read the whole thing again to remind myself where I was)
• Write nonstop for about three hours – not speaking to anybody, but occasionally checking Facebook
• Stand up and stretch, grab a Coke Zero and a snack
• Write nonstop for another three hours
• Decide that, since it is now after 3pm, I should get out of my pj’s
• Change into real clothes and thus lose all creative power

And that’s pretty much how it goes. Don’t judge. It gets my figurative ball over the figurative net. Figuratively speaking. (I did not follow my routine before typing this…and the ball hits the net and crashes).

Please tell me I am not alone in this…any other odd routines out there??

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I get a little perturbed that I am not devastatingly beautiful. My skin is oily and my hair never makes those “beach waves” no matter what I try.

But here’s the deal, girls: God made me. God made you. If he had wanted us all to be supermodels, he would have created us all as supermodels.

But he didn’t.

Why? I don’t know. That is one of the questions I’ll ask when I get to heaven. Right after, “Why couldn’t you have made chocolate and cheesecake healthy, and broccoli and green beans junk food?”

But here’s what I know: God isn’t really all that concerned with how we look on the outside. He is looking at our hearts — our character (check out I Samuel 16:7). “Beautiful” has a different definition in God’s dictionary than it does in ours.

“Beautiful” to God is someone who shares the Good News with others, someone who helps those who are hurting, someone who puts the needs of others above herself. We are beautiful to God when we love one another and when we obey what he has called us to do.

But do I spend my days obsessing over whether or not I am loving others? Do I look in the mirror and ask myself, “Did you honor God today?” Do I get together with my friends and discuss how we can help those around us?

Or do I spend useless time stressing over the fact that, once again, the “beach wave” attempt is a huge fail? That my eyeliner is thicker on one side than another, and do I keep going and risk having half my eye lined or just take it all off and start again?

I’m not saying that trying to look nice is wrong.  But that shouldn’t be my focus. A bad hair day shouldn’t ruin my day. It is a far better use of my time and energy to be focused on being beautiful inside, to make God smile, than it is to try to meet some standard of outward beauty that only those with great cheekbones and a team of hair and make-up professionals can attain.

So let’s be beautiful, girls! Stunning. But let’s not try to be supermodels. Aim higher.

Much Higher.

A few years ago, lice invaded our home. It was awful. I have two daughters with very thick hair and very tender scalps. I spent hours and hours raking a tiny comb through every single strand of their hair, pulling the disgusting little vermin out, watching them drown in lukewarm water, pinching their bloodsucking bodies between my fingernails.

To say I hate lice would be an understatement. They are like the Doc Ock to my Spiderman. The Wicked Witch to my Dorothy. I had nightmares for months afterwards. If the girls even put a hand near their heads, I grabbed them, searched their hair, stuck them under the light so I could make sure the infestation hadn’t returned. I am having a mild panic attack right now – four years later – just thinking about it.

I’ll never forget having to call the parents in my daughters’ classes to warn them that we may have unintentionally exposed their children to this horror. It was humiliating. I felt like an unhygienic wretch, a loser mom whose kids don’t bathe. I was afraid my kids would be ostracized, that other moms would tell their kids, “Stay away from the McGee’s…they’re unclean.” And, to be honest, some did. And some were not so nice. And it was humiliating to have to admit my kids had lice. Even as I write this, I struggle with pushing the “Publish” button. Do I really want this out there??

But here’s one bright spot from that awful time: One of the last calls I made was to my now-good friend, Sissy. At the time, we were just acquaintances, and our daughters were just developing a friendship (now they are inseparable). I told her my humiliating story and she didn’t get mad, didn’t lecture me, didn’t tell me what I did wrong in allowing my girls to get lice (I had heard all of that in previous conversations). She said something I’ll never forget: “Krista, lice is nothing.”

What I didn’t know was that a year before, her daughter had been so sick she was in a wheelchair, unable to walk, out of school for weeks. Later our lice year, this girl was having heart surgery. So when her mom said, “Lice is nothing” that’s exactly what she meant. When you’ve walked through life-altering experiences, little things just don’t get you worked up anymore.

I needed that perspective then, and I need it now. I constantly find myself getting worked up over things that just don’t really matter. Mad because someone cut me off at a red light or got into the 10 Items or less lane with 23 cases of Coke. I feel justified in my anger and frustration, right in allowing bitterness to fester. I fall into the trap of thinking the world revolves around me and if I am uncomfortable, something should be done to rectify it.

And I learned something else – sometimes the really awful things that happen to us can be used for good. Because they give us much-needed perspective. Sometimes when life is too easy, we can get annoyed when little things come in to bother us. But when we are walking through hard times, we can only concentrate on what really matters. Everything else is secondary.

God can  make beauty from ashes, and, in my case, bring Light from lice.

I am typing this from the University of South Florida’s College of Music. Some of my students are here to attend a two-day vocal workshop with other students from all over the state. And I get to sit and listen.

I wish I could cut and paste what I am hearing. It is lovely.

But the conductor of this massive choir made something very clear in the first ten minutes:  He looked at these high schoolers – all of whom love to sing, most of whom sing solos in their schools, churches, community theaters- and said, “This is not a competition.”

He knew, as a singer himself, that the tendency when you’re with other singers is to be heard. “Listen to my voice.” “Check me out.” “I can sing better than him/her.” And if this were “American Idol” or “X Factor” or “America’s Got Talent,” then competition would be expected, necessary. But this is a choir. And if you have ever spent any time in a choir, you know that good choirs sound like “one voice.” Everyone sings quietly together, everyone sings loudly together, everyone says their words and phrases together, everyone even breathes together. The goal is to make those many voices sound like one unified voice. And when that goal is accomplished…wow!

And these students are accomplishing that goal. They are really listening to the conductor, they are following his directions. I am not hearing”competitive singing.” I know there are four parts in each of the songs, but they blend so well, I can’t even tell what those parts are. All I am hearing is one choir singing these songs incredibly well.

It makes me think of Paul’s words about the body of Christ in I Cor. 12. He reminded the believers that we are all part of one body. No one of us is more important or less important than another. We need all the parts of the body for that body to function well.

The body of Christ is a lot like a choir. We should listen to those around us, blend the way the  Conductor directs us to blend. Don’t complain about the singers next to us. Don’t think because our voice is higher that it is better than the voices who are lower. Don’t think because we have been singing longer that we are more valuable. If we do have more experience, we help those around us who can’t find the note. Even if we can sing louder, hold back so we don’t overpower the singers around us. And if we are struggling and don’t get it – ask for help. We are a body. And the music we make is even more beautiful than any choir anywhere on this earth.