A new perspective

Went to church this morning and was reminded of a few things. First, Jeff Lucas spoke about Abraham and about his testament to, not only the church itself, but to the world. Abraham is one of the most respect men in the bible for his works done through faith as well as his faith by itself.
Jeff mentioned a point that struck me profoundly; sometimes we define ourselves by our failures...but God defines us by our faith.

I am the person who defines herself by her failures.

I look through my life and pick out those moments when I've screwed up or made the 'wrong' decision and I talk to God like he only sees me as that girl. But today I thought about this; what if I'm talking to a God who REALLY sees something else, and when I approach him in my embarrassed and repentant state, he just looks at me and says, "But Erica, remember that other time when.....(and brings up something postive that I've done.") But silly me, I don't hear him say that part.

I left Jeff's message with this in tow: I've had failures. But so did Abraham, one of the most referred to men in the bible. I've made mistakes, but so did Abraham. And in Hebrews 11....NONE of his mistakes are mentioned when speaking about what a leader he was to his people. So...if a man as influential as Abraham can make a mistake or two and change his life to make a difference...maybe I can too.

And directly after service Brent, my husband, and I teach Sunday School to five year-olds. Which brings me to my second realization: Today we taught about Saul and how his life dramatically changed once he was saved. And it was his friends who bailed him out when authorities were looking to kill him. In our attempts to teach our kids about friendship and helping one another, we made friendship bracelets. Each child made a bracelet for themselves and one for their best friend....
A boy in the class made one for me. He asked me my favorite color and made my entire bracelet in that color, (orange).
What a real life expanation of the things I am doing 'okay' in. I may make mistakes. I may disgust myself sometimes.... but what if God has the perpective of my little 5- year old...and says....I love you and want to give you a friendship bracelet that I made for you because you mean a lot to me. My heart began to melt away the disappointment I've felt for too long.

And I realized that maybe God does JUST love me for me. He loves me for my incomplete self and my lack of success. But at the end of the day....if my savior, the one who I try to impress all the time and continually fail to impress, still loves me and makes me a friendship bracelet...then maybe I'm an okay person afterall.
Today was the glimpse of a new perspective. I hope it stays...because I think HE wants it to.

Underneath the Harmony

Music. It's an entertaining thing. It's a moving thing. I find that the perfect CD or the perfect playlist is the best thing for me to listen to on days I feel like being moved. The melody, the harmony, and the lyrics set the tone for my day.

I've recently been pondering this. What happens before the music become popular? What happens while writing the songs? Where are the original fans of this artist? I wonder all of this because my sister is a musician, and a dang good one at that.

My sister is having a CD release party this month. She is a brilliant guitar song writer and singer. I have the claim to fame that she is my sister, but sometimes I wish we weren't related so I may have more validity to supporting her. People often assume that because we are of the same blood that we are best friends, and who WOULDN'T support their best friend? With that said, let me tell you about my sister and me.

Brooke and I are opposites on almost every level. We don't usually listen to the same music, we don't enjoy the same movies, nor do we alway agree in arguements in life. She is tall, I am 'figured,' (to put it nicely). I have short hair, she has long hair. I enter into athetic competitions and she sits in her room writing lyrics. I teach Sunday school and am a Marketing and Public Relation Coordinator for a Financial firm (GrowSecure.com....just doing my marketing duty here. ha.) and she is a barista at a coffee shop. I couldn't stand in front of a crowd and talk, let alone SING, to save my life. Brooke sings to, and inspires, hundreds of fans at the drop of a hat. I graduated from College with a degree and she has put in two years of college and is considering maybe going back someday...maybe. Brooke and I were not automatically soul mates as friends. I am a logical and pragmatic person, while her emotional rants and off-the-wall ideas get me thinking that life may NOT indeed be about logic.

But we ARE sisters. Our father loved us with the same amount of love. Our mother mothered us as best she could. We both have blonde hair, and we both laugh at the same jokes.

While we are truly complete individuals, HER MUSIC brings us together. When she grasps at her guitar and the strings begin to pluck or strum (not totally sure what the difference is), we sing. We dance, we harmonize, we connect. Connection.

Isn't that the point of music...the connection is the sole heart of every artist while they slave over the perfect song.

And my point is this. If the moment that Brooke begins to play makes every indifference between us blur out of sight, then maybe me being an advocate for her isn't JUST because she's my sister. Maybe it's because I believe in this artist. I believe in her passion. I believe in her conviction behind every word. I believe that this Brooke can overcome the heart-wrenching world of 'the music industry'. I believe in her. And I'm asking you to as well.

Brook Anne Northrop is throwing her, first ever, CD release party sometime this month and I'm inviting you to join her, to join us, in celebrating what this woman has accomplished. Being the dreamer that she is, I know she's dreamed of this night since even before she was a teenager. I will keep you posted on the date.

For now, I am leaving with the intention that you will maybe look her up on myspace music.com (Brooke Northrop), that you will maybe purchase her music on itunes, that you will maybe show up at her party, and maybe even purchase a $5 EP CD. Maybe you will, maybe you won't, but nonetheless, if you ever come across a promotion for her from ANYONE, even a relative, know that even those of us closest to her who may be the complete opposite believe in this amazing girl. And we believe in her music.

Not much to say

hi. It's snowing outside, I'm listening to Ben Harper and sipping on Earl Grey tea. My husband is out of town for awhile which has left me with much more silence than normal. To my surprise; I'm enjoying it. (Keep in mind today is only the second day he is gone.) My house is clean, the fridge is loaded with veggies and fruit, and my favorite 'chill' mix is playing while I write.
I figured I'd get on blogger and say something profound about life, but it turns out that I don't have much to say today. The superbowl is tonight, but I think I may go for a swim at the gym, come home and snuggle up in bed and watch Mona Lisa Smile...its a Mona Lisa Smile kind-of-day.
Here is to the days when there is not much to say. They aren't bad days. The are just simply quiet.

I turned into an onion in 2010

Can't believe I haven't written since December. As usual, lots has happened. So hello again to you. The title of my new post is true: I've turned into an onion this year.
Explanation: I've decided that every month I will give up something for 20 days straight. I'm not sure what the rest of the year will hold, but this month was alcohol. Not that I drink often, but I did want to give up something that I enjoy doing to see what things take effect in my life....
I realized that truly giving something up has taught me more about OTHER things to enjoy. Instead of wine with dinner, a glass of water would usually inspire me to go to the gym and get a GREAT workout in...something I've neglected for far too long. Instead of going out with friends, I drove everyone and still laughed just as hard, (and danced just as hard) but woke up the next morning feeling like a champ.
But setting aside all of the physical changes and things I did differently, I noticed that by giving up something I was able to continually look deeper into who I am as a person. I know this sounds very emotional and feely (not sure if that is a word or not), but it truly was a sweet time for me to unwrap things in my life that I often don't take the time to examine.
I feel like pieces of my walls, pieces of my callousness are shedding...thus the onion analogy. I had more time to consider my life and the things that I have burried to deep inside that I've truly never taken the time to hash out and de-clutter. I learned to love my work and to appreciate what I do there. I've taken time to just sit and dream with my husband about the "Maybe someday..." dreams we have. I've experienced the physical sweat and blood from beginning a rigorous running schedule again, something that has taken a back seat for too long.
I've peeled back several layers this month....all just from giving up alcohol. Odd.
I think next month I may be giving up coffee...I know right?! Not sure if that's the final decision yet or not....but I do have to say that I'm curious to see what else begins to shed when other things leave my everyday life. Of course...I will keep you posted (literally).

Who knew Leprosy could be beautiful?

Let's begin by saying that this blog post may not be my proudest moment, but it certainly was an important moment in my life recently; tonight to be exact.
So I've been dealing with a slur of emotions lately ranging from extreme excitment to sheer disapointment, but the overall feeling my heart has been coping with is 'missing the mark.' It seems like every time I turn around I've missed the mark somehow. One day I felt fat and ugly, the next day I was not the greatest friend to a friend who needed me, the next day I snapped at my husband about something so unimportant and miniscule that I'm not even going to write it on here. I've just kept messing it up for myself and those around me, and with that came a deepend sense of my ugly side. It was the same kind of ugly that I can spot in others so easily. And now here I was, pointing that finger at myself.

I began journalling about these details of ugliness in myself. It was like I was looking in the mirror at a leper-girl. I had open sores everywhere and knew that I could not heal them myself. Every day that is passing they are getting worse and uglier. That's when it hit me.

Now I don't know where your stance on God is, but I can tell you this much, Mister God is always coming in to meet me right where I am; leprosy and all. So it was at this point when I said, "God it's like I'm this leper just standing there in front of you and I can't do anything to make these ugly sores look any better, so here I am, an ugly leper girl." And that's when God replied. He said, "But Erica, you are still beautiful. I see past them."

How could I have forgotten that Jesus healed the lepers which means he HAD to have touched them...maybe he didn't even see the leprosy at all when he went to touch the infected. Maybe God knows I have areas in my life that I need some serious work on, but he DID take my hand and tell me I was beautiful. Why should I be hiding from the only person who can see past my ugliness? Why would a leper run from the only person who could see their beautiful soul?

One by one he can heal me. That doesn't mean I don't have to work on things, but nonetheless, one by one, little by little we will overcome this....but I can rest safe in his arms knowing he still thinks I'm beautiful...open wounds and all.

I was just missing the salt

So...I like to cook, as does my husband. I realized something in these last few weeks that may sound too simple, but I assure you, it is a novel idea to me. I've been missing salt in my life for the last few months.
I use salt in everything I cook. I love salt, but not too much...but EVERYTHING I make could always use a lil salt. So as I've been living my life day in and day out, I took no time to notice the bland taste I've had sitting in my mouth.
Our trip to Guatemala, and my new job as a PR and Marketing Director, added the long lost flavor I'd forgotten I'd been missing. I was living each day for that, just that day. I woke up to accomplish the tasks for the day, and go to bed knowing the next day would hold just the same list.
But when you travel across the world to touch the hearts of those who can't make a list, because all they are concerned about is LIVING to tomorrow...you realize you maybe forgot to take notice of the little things in your own life.
And my new job. I love my job. I am working with happy people, who love working with me, and we enjoy our work. SALT!
The last few weeks have added a vibrant taste to a long-lasting absence of the simplest additive; salt. I can't believe I'd gone so long without it.
I encourage you today. Add salt back into your life. Stop living everyday so that you forget what it even tastes like to be moved for one second, to experience joy, to laugh out loud, or sing aloud in your car....add some salt...and feel those tastebuds come alive. (and by tastebuds, I'm talking about your heart...)

For those who have no voice

My husband and I are leaving for a misisons trip on Sunday. I find it peculiar that my year can go by with a few thoughts lent to those in Guatemala, but for the most part, I am concerned about getting the laundry done, getting my workout in, and getting dinner on the table every day. My mind rarely shifts to the immense pain and suffering that people I love are experiencing.
So today's post is for them. It is for those who have no voice to be heard, and for those who live such desolate and expendible lives. But not to me. They are interesting and funny people who live every day concerned about getting laundry done and having dinner on the table. But they walk 4 miles to work, usually with no shoes. They feed a family of 7 because their elderly parents live with them, and dinner is cooked over a smal flame in their bedroom, or bathroom; whichever room lends the most space.
So I write for you today. You inspire me, you have inspired me since I met you eight years ago. You live your life simply, not asking for more than you can afford, not even asking for anything luxurious. And you never ask for anything in return. You are the woman, the man, that I aspire to be like. I think about throwing away my black strapy sandals because my friends tell me they are out-of-date, but you made your clothes and have worn them for 10+ years. And you wear them with a smile and no concern if your neighbor will be dissatisfied. You wear them with gratefulness that you have clothes. I wish I was more like you.
You share a cement block and cement floor two bedroom with your family of seven, and you never complain about having to share a bedroom with your mother and father and you spouse and your two children. You just live.
I am leaving on Sunday for nine days, only nine, to live your life, and already I'm packing lysol and sanitary wipes, and shower shoes....but you wash your body in the river, and hope to have clean enough hands to prepare your dinner on the bathroom floor. You are survivors.
So today is about you. I love you, I admire you, and I cannot wait to see you all again. You change my life daily, no matter how small. But you change me into a more grateful and compasisonate person. You bring reality to my selfish and vein world.
Thank you. I think I'll keep my black strapy sandals today, and maybe even wear them out tonight.
To you. The most inspiring people in my life, whose voices will never be heard.