A Fig Leaf for You & a Fig Leaf for Me

Mustang

Peter Adermark via Compfight

A shinny new sports car!

Fast. Convertible. Hot stuff. As it growled away I thought,

“What a Fig Leaf!”

In about 30 seconds you can see (or hear) the things people do to cover up… to compensate and distract themselves and others from their insecurities. It’s all a Fig Leaf dance done to hide shame.

To see it in ourselves can take a bit more time. Funny how that is!

We are always, it seems, pushing back somehow on the sense that we aren’t enough. (Even by drawing a comparison, which is what I did when I spotted a sport car fig leaf, reveals my cover up attempt, “I’m not as bad as that.” I said in my heart.)

Consciously or unconsciously we send signals to whomever might listen, even if the listener is us:

• I’m smart enough

• I’m talented enough

• I’m wealthy enough

• I’m pious enough

• I’m capable enough

• I’m attractive enough

• I’m good enough

• I’m strong enough

• I’m loved enough

• I’m dedicated enough

• I’m worthy enough

I. am. okay.

Each way a Fig Leaf. Each way a stab at trying to reconnect and find home. We all long for connection and acceptance.

Social creatures as we are, we still want to look like we have it all under control and can go it alone. The sinking feeling that perhaps we cannot sends a jolt of pain that has us picking fig leaves and making coverings for ourselves.

The truth is being vulnerable feels like being naked. We hate it. We feel exposed. We’d rather hide.

If something or someone reveals our mistake or shortcoming, we take it personally–as a reflection of some core flaw. Fig leaves are everywhere.

I don’t have a sport car to show off, so my fig leaf might not be so obvious to others. But it’s there! Oh, and I have much more than one fig leaf too. I too feel like I’m not enough, and plenty of ways and failures come up each day to point it out for me.

The only thing that helps to give me traction and drop a few leaves is admitting it and risking and then relying on my closest relationships to reorient me–including my relationship with God. Those who really love me reinforce that I already am worthy of love and acceptance. God reaches out in Scriptures, through others, and in the Living Word (Jesus the Christ) to drill home the fact that he covers all shame with empathy and love.

Guilt = I did something wrong (admit it, fix it, move on)

Shame = I am something wrong (we stay stuck, we go numb, we disconnect, we over-protect ourselves)

If you want to drop a few pitiful fig leaves, start by taking a risk and reveal why you cover up. You don’t have to do it in public, but apparently you have to do it to be well.

Brené Brown (who you’ve probably realized by now has inspired this post) says that “We are only as sick as our shame.”

I’m reading this, and I recommend it to anyone who has a Fig Leaf or two.

PRAYER FOR THE SHAMEFUL

God, hear my prayer!
I keep scrounging for things to make me feel better.
I remain unfound by your love in times when I deeply need it.
Be my Hope and Deliver
Let your love wash over me and renew me
That I can be born again into a greater Light and Love
And even as a new born baby is vulnerable and so dearly loved
Let me sense that I am your child in the same way
I am strongest and most protected when I realize I am in your arms
Let me sense your acceptance and closeness.
Remind me of who and where you are.

Click for Verse of the day

 

April Fool’s Favorites 2013

Every year some pranks are pulled on April Fool’s Day.

My kids were big into putting a rubber band on the kitchen sink sprayer. They would high five every time I forgot about it. (I let them have their fun and kept it rigged for most of the day, as they were at home on holiday.)

Redbox did a funny and enjoyable one too.

lunch meat
(click for full prank…it’s worth it for the cheese alone!)

I have been so occupied with my obligations of work, family, and grad school that I didn’t get to poke around and see what other pranks were had on a bigger scale.

What did I miss?

Offer some links to your favorites of this year (or any year) and let me know what I missed!

Stuff you don’t expect to say at Christmas (humor from real life)

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas….everywhere you go.

Here’s some things I didn’t think I’d say at Christmastime…

“No! Honey, take little baby Jesus out of your mouth and put him back!”

“Yes, he looks like candy, but keep him in the hay. That’s his bed.”

“No Jesus didn’t eat ham for Christmas dinner, I’m sure of it.”

“I wonder why Santa smells like that.”

“That’s garland. It looks tasty, and yes it’s pretty, but it’s not for eating.”

“Yes, if our house was made of candy we might have more cavities.”

“Does that costume ever get washed?”

“No, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph never rode a train.”

“If I see another man wearing mistletoe on his belt, I think I’m going to freak out.”

“Honey, I don’t know why the girl elf has almost no clothes on when she’s from the north pole. It is weird.”

“No, we won’t be using Raisinets to show that reindeer were nearby.”

“Yes, the woman singing Santa-Baby sounds like a cat. I think that’s on purpose.”

“Santa wasn’t one of the wise men, and he didn’t get anything for baby Jesus’ birthday. That came later.”

“No, The Three Magi is not a group Nikki Minaj was in.”

“Why does that elf look like he’s in the mafia?”

“There was no Round John Burgeon at the stable. He wasn’t a shepherd . It’s ’round yon virgin’, not Round John Burgeon….”

“I don’t know why candy canes stick to the backs of sweaters so much.”

“The angel wasn’t named Harold, and he didn’t have a harp. It’s “Hark, with a “k”, which sort of means “listen”, and it’s “herald” which means “a messenger”…oh nevermind.”

“Yes, sweetie, I know a lot of people do smell like cough medicine at Christmastime.”

 Feel free to add your own in the comments section!

(If you had a chuckle, will you please tweet it up? Spread the good cheer.)

Jesus Had a Wife…and other Shtick

This post is related to the hubbub about a alleged artifact from 400 years after Jesus.

Here’s an article of that and some of the new surrounding controversy that will make the validity of such a finding dubious at best. Just when it gets interesting it leaves you with nothing. Much like this whole hullabaloo will.

Discussing that is not the focus of this post.

Also, the image above is not a painting of the first knock-knock joke:

Mary: “Knock-knock”

Voice in tomb: “Who’s there?”

Mary: “Mary…wait…um… you’re not Jesus, you’re an angel. What are you doing in here?!”

Voice in tomb: “Got ‘cha, Mary. Jesus is alive! and he looks a lot like the guy who takes care of this garden.”

The ancient papyrus lines in question (written in Coptic 400 years after Jesus) are in bold below:

The legible lines on the front of the artifact seem to be a conversation between Jesus and his disciples. The fourth line of the text says, “Jesus said to them, my wife.” Line 5 says “… she will be able to be my disciple,” while the line before the “wife” quote has Jesus saying “Mary is worthy of it” and line 7 says, “As for me, I dwell with her in order to …”

So, suppose this scrap contains the actual words of Jesus, could we solve the mystery?

Firstly, for context….remember the “Plank in the eye thing” Jesus said once…well, here’s the thing about that: That was Shtick.

So, maybe this is too.

Jesus said to them, my wife….I mean, should I forego this dying for humanity stuff, my wife will be a great cook. Ya’ll know I love grilled fish, right?

or

“…she will be my disciple, and I have a feeling she won’t be as big a pain in the rump as you guys have been.

or

Mary is worthy of it. And by “it” I mean R-E-S-P-E-C-T, yo.

or

You guys can stay over at Peter’s house, and for my sake, please patch up the roof from the other day. As for me, I dwell with her in order to get some freakin’ peace and quiet. You bicker constantly!

 

You probably thought I’d say, “Jesus said to them, my wife…take my wife, please.” right?

NOW—you fill in the blanks. Finish Jesus’ sentences. (It’s not stuff from the Bible, so don’t worry. It’s not sinning if you’re adding text and meaning to a Coptic gag reel.)

 

 

SHOCK & BAWL: A Tale of Jeep Rage

Boston I-93 Tunnel

Creative Commons License Rene Schwietzke via Compfight

Somedays you need to read uplifting or humorous posts to soothe yourself. I GET THAT. Friday seems two weeks away. You and I both know that sometimes we must find a way to laugh so we don’t freak out on someone, or weep uncontrollably into our Dunkin’ Donuts napkin.

This is probably not going to do that for you. But, you can read it, and shoot up a quick prayer thanking God that you aren’t my spouse. So, that’s a pick-me-up. You’re welcome.

True Story:

Once I made a horrible driving error. I’m pretty sure it was the one and only time, but I completely cut someone off on the Interstate.

So, I swing into the passing lane and make a guy in a jeep brake and swerve. Panicked, and intolerably stupid, I flee the scene…by intricately weaving through traffic, no less. Maybe if I’m out of sight I can be out of mind too, I think. No, it’s actually more of a pure flight-or-fight response. I was about 7 year old at the time, and my frontal lobe was under-developed. 

Indeed, it’s all a crescendoing avalanche of foolishness. Incited, second motorist blows his horn and starts to tail me in a move of solidarity against vehicular injustice. Things are getting totally nuts. No doubt he’s readying a tall finger for my witness. My NASCAR lane changing moves soon best him, or maybe he realizes a highway fatality is too high a price just to send a hackneyed message.

As I flee I see the victim in my mirror. He’s frothing and out of his mind with rage. He’s waving limbs around in wild fury, gassing it. He’s in hot pursuit. It’s a Jeep thing, maybe.

Now, I’m terrified. I taste the bile in my mouth.

My heart pounding, I realize this all could end very poorly. And soon.

That blaze of glory stuff is an awesome idea until you start thinking about the minutia of funeral arrangements, or wreckage in general. Yes. The poor man swerved to avoid a smash style killing of both of us. It could have been a horrid pileup too. We truly had eluded death by narrow margins. 14 guardian angels later file grievances. 3 others walk off the job immediately in complete frustration.

Jeep guy was quite good at swerving, actually, and keeps up the swerving through interstate congestion to reach me. Maybe for seconds. Maybe for kilometers. Things are getting weird. A few truckers start honking, to support me, I assume. (They probably notice my professional driving acumen. What 7 year old can draft and weave with such precision? I’m a prodigy. Surely they recognize that. It’s a rush to have their approval. They’re pros after all and they know motoring prowess when they see it.)

At this point I realize Mr Jeep guy is going to try to pull some kind of payback stunt. He’s all in.

Battle of the Stupid Driving Stunts is the theme of the afternoon, but who can blame him? At this point, he’s jacked up pretty good. I’m in a subcompact. How bad will this get? Does he have a gun? Or, will he keep it simple and just run me off the road with a triumphant fist pump? Will I be late for Girl Scouts?

How is this going to end?

I do some quick thinking. Finally. Thoughts not just reactions. I mentally pat myself on the back as my synapses fire two or maybe three times…in a row with no problems!

Actually, I stopped breathing for 8 minutes.

They say necessity is the mother of invention, right? Well, it is. I am inventing a solution with  an unfettered brain buzz that comes just before you die or you nearly die. I’ve scene this in the movies: It’s always in slow motion.

I do the only thing I think will hit the reset button. (Yes. I know there’s no real reset button. Curse you, Staples! Or Vanilla Sky…)

I decide on the element of SURPRISE!

Of course, I had just surprised him quite a bit a moment earlier by nearly snuffing out his life. “Surprise, dude!”

Yet, this is precisely why he will never see a second surprise coming. Really, I had him right were I wanted him.

(If only the roaring terror in my brain had let me enjoy that precious moment. Alas, no. Not at all.)

I enact my own creative SEAL 6 black ops tactic I now call:

Operation Boo-hoo.

It’s go time!

I burst into tears.

I cry.

Sob, really.
Or, I pretend to.

Who has the time to form actual tears at such a high rate of speed and in heavy traffic–before they’re about to be murdered in an act of heedless revenge? Me neither.

Armed with a fistful of tissues I wipe my eyes and feign bawling. A lot. He approaches in haste (of course, because he’s ready to kill me).

From me: Zero eye contact. (Like he’s not even there. A genius move. Remember that for later in your own travels.)

Peripherally, I see him. He edges up to my blind spot. Hovering. Ready to pounce.

He’s poised. He peers. He notices me. He witnesses total hysteria. …and then…mercifully… eases off. (Perhaps I turned out to be a 3 gallon bucket of mess and he only has a 2 gallon bucket that day.)

Yes, I counted on his attitude changing once he thought something else was going on with me. Something mental. Something suicidal or wickedly moronic–barely thwarted by his quick reflexes.

Or, just something too crazy to understand.

Shock and bawl.

I was going for, “Wha….?” 
Is it Grief? remorse? madness? sorrow? a lost puppy? What. is. the. deal?
Whatever…let me just say it worked. Perfectly.

Later, I rewarded myself with a new box of Kleenex…with aloe.
I’m not sure why I wasn’t armed with aloe tissues in the first place. But, never again.
Because that would be crazy.

If that was you in the Jeep, thanks.

I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you. We both avoided certain doom.

P.S. (I might have not been 7 years old at the time.)