This afternoon I ventured out to an independent movie theatre to watch An Education. What I have to say about the movie is that it is fabulous. The theatre is situated right next to Sacs Fifth Avenue, and the parking lot is full of Lexus, Minis, BMWs, Cadillacs, and the like. I felt sheepish as I parked my Pontiac near all the swank.

I arrived about 10 minutes prior to the start of the movie, and by the time I sat down, the theatre was about half full.  I was the youngest viewer.  By the time the previews began, I was still the youngest person there, and I’d say at least 95% of the audience was over 70. I woman directly in front of me had her hair set for the week.

Prior to the previews there was a timely and strategic Cadillac commercial, which I’m sure made more than one audience member soil their adult diapers with excitement.  It was a weird experience to say the least, but delightfully memorable.

Although you may not have a similar experience to mine, see the movie if you get a chance. Some might call it a coming of age drama, but I think they’re missing the film if they chalk it up to that.  It’s about a girl who loses her innocence, and comes back to find it. It’s about defining what living is. It’s about the humility of second chances. It’s about things turning out right in the end when you are cheering for it to turn out wrong. I hope that doesn’t ruin it for you, but it’s a snippet of my unfolding thoughts.

I have lately been enamored with www.peopleofwalmart.com

It just feels good.  Check it out and laugh hardily!

This morning was amazing.  I got up at 6:30 and had the quiet to myself.  I brewed a french press of Birds & Bees shade grown organic coffee (I don’t like it because of the organic shade grown, in case Gina is reading this).  I ate some Trader Joe’s cheerios.  I read.  And, what makes the morning perfect besides that: listening to NPR news morning edition.

Tonight will be a great evening: beer, grilled burgers (my uncle’s beef), potato chips with french onion dip, root beer floats, good friends.  Can’t wait.

I have had an extremely anxiety filled week.  I met my potentially future supervisor for my counseling internship (it was kind of like an interview), saw my first client (I’m pretty sure she wanted to hug me), set up my first couples therapy session, had a wretched group therapy session via my group dynamics class, and anticipate counseling and supervision today and tomorrow.

Anxiety creeps up into your stomach, and it sits there, hot and knotty.  I’m convinced it controls my heart beat and boosts my metabolism.  What I’m thinking about it what it communicates to me.  Clearly it says that I don’t feel at ease, but I also think it makes me question myself.  Am I good enough, likable enough, courageous enough, competent enough?  It makes me aware that I listen to the voice of pride telling me that I must be in control, that I can’t trust God.  It highlights my brokenness and the areas of my life in need of sanctification.

I hate how it feels, but I think I just may be thankful for it.

Okay, I’m back for now.  Summer has arrived, so I feel like I have some down time.  I’ve got two classes for the summer.  One’s over and done with and the other just started–Group Dynamics.  My counseling internship is just underway. I’m slightly intimidated, but at the same time not.  After just one short year of classes, they are planning to set me loose to meddle in the lives of others. I will meet with my first client on Monday.

In other news I just got back from a visit to Atlanta.  I feel a bit sheepish saying it was to see my dog, so I’ll instead say I got  to see my dear friend Patty, my brother, sister-in-law, and the dogs.

Bianca is getting a little older, showing a bit of white around the eyes.  She’s mellowing, but very much still stubborn and verbal.  She has vastly improved her skills of catching waffles off of her nose.

Due to feeling pressure to update, and not wanting to, I’m shutting the blog down for awhile.  If you keep the blog on some sort of feed you’ll notice if I start up again.  But, don’t hold your breath.

When I looked at it

a sadness came over me:

coffee cup empty.

In some ways I’m revisiting an earlier post in writing this, but I think it is worthwhile as Easter is upon us.  In my mind I have been thinking over and over again that if the resurrection hadn’t happened, then Christ’s death wouldn’t matter, because he’d be dead.  I’m not trying to downplay the significance of Jesus’ s death by any means.  But, the fact that after he was dead and buried, he inhaled and came back into life matters tremendously.  His inhalation means that everything prophesied about him in the Old Testament is true.  Everything he told his disciples is true.  That he is God and man at the same time is true.  That he is prophet, priest, and king is true.  But, the resurrection had to happen.  It is through the resurrection that I can draw near to God.

What this means for me who believes in it all, is that I can push back against the darkness in this world and in my life, because he inhaled.  I can fight for my heart and the hearts of others, because he inhaled.  I can believe that I’m worth fighting for, because he fought for me and he won when he inhaled.  I can fight for hope, live in hope, pursue hope with vigor, because he took a breath after dying on a cross, shedding his blood, carrying everything wicked, thoughtless, indifferent, shameful thought our deed I will ever think or do with him.  He made life possible for me.  The resurrection means he won.

Another shout out to Andrew Peterson’s High Noon

When Jesus took in that breath 
And shattered all Death with his life 
So long, you wages of sin 
Go on, don’t you come back again 
I’ve been raised and redeemed 
You’ve lost all your sting 
To the victor of the battle

Besides interesting poetry, there are fun little snippets from history about those who have contributed to the written word.  I never knew the book below was written by a woman.  To check our or subscribe to The Writer’s Almanac, click here.

It was on this day in 1818 that Mary Shelley published her gothic horror novel Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus. In 1816, 19-year-old Mary and her lover Percy Shelley were staying with Lord Byron in Switzerland. It rained a lot, and they were stuck in the house. They read ghost stories, and Lord Byron got the idea that they should each write a ghost story themselves. Byron and Percy Shelley gave up quickly, but Mary spent many days trying to think of a story. One night the two men had a conversation about the spontaneous generation of life and the possibility of re-animating a corpse. Mary went to bed, but she couldn’t sleep, and she had a vision: “I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion.” And she went to work writing. Two years later, on this day in 1818, Frankenstein was published in London, and it became an instant best-seller. Mary Shelley was 21 years old.