Crowding the Stable

Last Christmas, my parents gave each of their children a small Nativity set complete with a little stable my dad built from the old cabinets they'd ripped out of the kitchen.  I noticed while I was at my sister's house that every figure in their Nativity was crammed into the tiny stable. 

I had my own set on a table by the front door of my house.  Just before I left town for the holiday, my sister's family dropped by with a few gifts they wanted to me to take with me.  It didn't take long for my nephew Seth to see my Nativity and promptly proceed to crowd the figures together inside. 

When I began to explain that there wasn't enough room inside the stable, showing him how it should look and pulling the pieces out to give each their proper space (I'm all about personal bubbles), he threw his arms up and with frustrated tears shouted, "Stop! There'th enough room! They can't thee the baby from outthide! They need to thee the baby!!"

The other day I caught a glimpse of my sister's Nativity, again with the figures tucked snugly inside, each with a clear view of the wooden baby. 

Christmas is always an oddly sad time for me.  I usually blame it on the magic that's lost as we grow up, the faces I love but rarely see any other time of year, the gifts I wish I could afford to give.  This year, through the words of a five year old, I'm reminded that through the twinkly lights that remind me of childhood, the reunions I wish wouldn't have to end and the annual painful search for the right gift for my dad (why doesn't anyone make soap-on-a-rope anymore?), to make sure that I can see the baby. There is always enough room, and that is where the real magic lies. 

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"It seems, then," said Tirian, smiling himself, "that the Stable seen from within and the Stable seen from without are two different places."

"Yes," said the Lord Diggory. "Its inside is bigger than its outside."

"Yes," said Queen Lucy. "In our world too, a Stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world."

- CS Lewis' "The Last Battle"

The Very Worst Winners

The Phoenix Suns have the very worst fans. Many of you reading this will be offended by that, but let me explain...

See, this is actually a bucket list post about how I finally made it to an Oklahoma City Thunder game. (Two actually, although the first was a preseason game in which Durant, Westbrook, Ibaka and Collison sat out.) In my years as an Arizona resident, I have been to many Suns games. I have, however, only witnessed them winning two. Both were against the Oklahoma City Thunder. (Let me remind you that the first was the game in which none of OKC's starters played.)

The second was one of the most incredible games I've ever seen. Normally I would be upset to see my team lose, but in this case, my team had played beautifully. Durant kept his 25 point per game streak alive and everyone else was on point. What we witnessed that night was Gerald Green having the best game of his career (so far... let's hope he hasn't peaked just yet) hitting 3-pointer after 3-pointer for an amazing 41 points total.

Close game. We lost. Couldn't find it in me to be upset after the magic I'd just seen.

Completely prepared to head home and write a raving review of the Suns' performance, I instead came home to multiple rude Facebook wall posts about how my team choked (when really both teams played phenomenally) and how the Suns trashed us.  (6 points does not constitute trashing. By definition, I believe a trashing requires at least a 20 point lead.)  It was interesting, since when the Suns lose, everyone likes to act like it's no big deal. It's when they win that things get ugly.

The only conclusion I could make was that fans of the Phoenix Suns, while great at refraining from being sore losers (with the exception of the grudge they like to hold against the Spurs), are horrible winners. Good thing that doesn't happen too often. (Ooohhh... burn!)

Just kidding.  I fully believe they will be formidable in a few seasons.

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"Attend an Oklahoma City Thunder game" has been replaced with "Publish a book" on the Everlasting Bucket List.

Like a (Falling) Rock Star

Several weeks ago, I finally had an opportunity to join some friends at a rock gym.  Of course I woke that morning with a slight fever. (Nothing a few caffeinated painkillers couldn't handle...)

I shelled out the cash, harnessed up (after watched the mandatory safety video), and hit the rocks. I'm going to go ahead and say I killed it. With an exception...

You see, the second wall I tried had a monstrous ledge two-thirds of the way up.  It seemed easy enough. Especially watching each of my friends do it without a problem.  I had a problem.  I couldn't see past the ledge when I got up to it enough to plan a successful move beyond it.  I fell. More than once.

I did successfully scale many others with different challenges and obstacles with little trouble.  After four failed attempts, I was done with the wall.  A friend that was with me tried to get me to try again, insisting I wouldn't be happy until I mastered it.  Knowing how competitive I can be, normally I would agree with her. But as I dangled from my butt harness, one of my favorite songs (All the Right Moves by OneRepublic) came to mind:

Let's paint the picture of the perfect place.

They got it better than what anyone's told you.

They'll be the king of hearts and you're the queen of spades

And we'll fight for you like we were your soldiers.

I know we got it good, but they got it made

And the grass is getting greener each day.

I know things are looking up, but soon they'll take us down

Before anybody's knowing our name.

They got, All the right friends in all the right places

So yeah, we're going down, they got

All the right moves and all the right faces

So yeah, we're going down

As much as I love to win, there's a certain beauty in admitting defeat.  There was nothing in me that felt the need to get to the top of that wall.  To this day, I have no regrets about quitting.  

I still feel like a rock star.

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"Go Rock Climbing" has been replaced on the Everlasting Bucket List by "See a Linkin Park concert."

Why Seek We the Living Among the Dead?

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S.Lewis have long been my favorite book series.  Earlier in my life, I was able to gain a greater understanding and knowledge of my Savior, Jesus Christ through these stories. (So much so that I'm sometimes worried that I may be disappointed to find that He isn't a lion... though I'm sure we will all experience nothing short of wonder and awe at His presence.)

One of these stories, The Horse and His Boy, recounts the journey of an orphan named Shasta who sets off to find a better life and realizes his true worth and identity along the way. Throughout his adventure, Shasta has several encounters with lions: some pleasant, but most less than pleasant. Toward the end of the story, he feels an unseen presence next to him on his path.  Mustering his courage, he speaks to it, eventually telling it of his journey and the troubles he has faced...

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"I do not call you unfortunate," said the Large Voice.

"Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?" said Shasta.

"There was only one lion," said the Voice.

..."How do you know?"

"I was the lion." And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. "I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead.  I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept.  I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in with you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat,
wakeful at midnight, to receive you."

(emphasis added)

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What the boy had seen as trials had actually been the presence of a Being that knew the paths he needed to take, the friends he needed to make, the protection he needed to have, the correction he needed to receive and the motivation he needed to find in order to succeed in the very best way.

My favorite part of the Easter story in the scriptures is found in Luke chapter 24.  The women who come to prepare the body of Christ find the stone rolled from the sepulchre and His body missing.  They are then met by two angels who ask them, "Why seek ye the living among the dead?" 

While Christ's Atonement was the single greatest act in the history of the world, His death was made most significant by His resurrection.  I am so grateful to know not only that Jesus Christ died for me, but that He Lives. He lives for me and with me each day to guide and correct me along my life's journey as I remember to seek Him. 

He is the Lion.


http://easter.mormon.org/?CID=612626/

Inquiring Minds

Recently, my dear friend Nicole Montez (smallandsimplenicole.blogspot.com) honored me with the Liebster Award. I don't speak a lot of German, but I do know that "liebe" means love... so basically I've been named a love-ster.  As a love-ster, I am to answer 10 questions posed to me by the awarder before passing the honor on to another worthy blogger with questions of my own. Here are my answers!

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1. Do you "Okies" usually reside in water?

Well, no... Although Oklahoma is dotted with lovely lakes and rivers, and the relative humidity is fairly high (especially in summer), the handle "okieoutofwater" references the discomfort of living  my life outside of the preferred environment.  While there are people, places and experiences I have loved/appreciated elsewhere, Oklahoma will always be...home.

2. On average, how often do people incorrectly pronounce your name? Do you care?

I can count on one hand the number of times someone has pronounced my name correctly the first time.  When I was younger I cared a little.  Then I got old enough to know that my name is a bit on the ridiculous-to-expect-other-people-to-pronounce-correctly-the-first-time side. Then I decided it didn't matter anyway...since my last name is temporary. Let's just say I'm in the market for a new one... if you know what I mean. ;)

3. What is your ideal mode of transportation?

Truth be told, I love to walk. That being said, I realize that wheels allow us to travel much more efficiently. This has brought me to the conclusion that the ideal mode of transportation for me is...
ROLLER BLADES! (Holla to my blading crew... the #!g# R0//€r$.)

4. What was your favorite song in high school, and will you still jam out to it now?

In high school I listened exclusively to alternative music.  I still very much enjoy it... and as I recently discovered, I still know every word to Disturbed's "Down With the Sickness" and "Stupify" and struggle to contain myself when they come on.  I'd say I was ashamed of that, but I would be lying. :)
The one song I will always appreciate, though, takes me back to prom night.  Trapt's "Headstrong" will forever have a place in my heart.

5. What is the #1 thing you want to do before you die?

Not die. To accomplish this, I came up with the "Everlasting Bucket List."  The idea is that each time I accomplish something on the list, it is immediately replaced by something else that must be done before my demise...thus putting off the inevitable.

Don't like that answer? Let's go with: See the Northern lights.

6. What is your favorite thing to consume?

Energy in the following forms: Carbohydrates, fat, protein and sunshine.
Commodities in the following forms: Shoes, movie and concert tickets.

7. What will you never do again?

-Try to pry mushrooms off a frozen pizza with a butter knife.
-Eat pork 'n beans and peanut butter M&Ms in the same sitting.
-Go for the ball in the center of the court while playing dodgeball.
-Date anyone named Mitch. (3x)

..."I had a bad experience!"

8. What is your best/favorite joke?

For fear of giving away my best punchline, I won't tell my favorite joke here, but I will share with you the best joke I've ever heard...

I was in the car with my nephews when I told them the interrupting cow joke. You know:
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Interrupting cow."
"Interrupting co..."
"MOO!"

Brigham quickly caught on and told a remarkably similar interrupting dog joke. Thinking he had the general idea, Hunter decided to try:
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Interrupting turtle."
"Interrupting turtle who?"
...silence...
"Interrupting turtle who?"
...silence...
I looked in my rear view mirror to see a face of a hilarious combination of defeat and confusion. To this day it is the funniest joke I've ever heard.

9. How do you feel about dances?

Tricky question.  It depends entirely on the type of dance and the people I'm with.  Most of the time I love the idea of a good dance, but once in a while I find myself wishing I was anywhere else. (Here's an example.)

10. If you could give a newborn child advice about life, what would it be?

I would tickle them, speak some sort of baby jibberish, and wish them the best of luck... because if there's anything I know, it's that the best way to learn is to live life as it comes to you.  It's impossible to be prepared having no idea what life has in store for you.  Also, I'm pretty sure they won't remember anything I say anyway. :)

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And now, it is with great pride and honor that I bestow this Liebster Award to my friend and fellow blogger Sarah Woods (thisishowwedooda.wordpress.com). Your questions are as follows...
1. If you had to give all of your children the same first name (like George Foreman) what name would you choose and why?
2. What song best encapsulates all that you were, are and hope to be?
3. If you made an animated film, what would the characters be? Describe briefly the plot line.
4. What kind of bear is best? Provide your argument.
5. Who would win in a cage fight: Winona Ryder or Keira Knightley?
6. Describe the best date you've been on.
7. And the worst.
8. What chore do you hate the most?
9. If you could pretend that airplanes in the night sky were like shooting stars, what would you wish for right now?
10. If you were giving a thank you speech for your life, what would it say?

**Liebster: sweetheart, beloved person, darling.**

Hot Chick, Cold Chick

Two things: I've always wanted to learn to snowboard. I hate doing things I'm not good at. (You can call me a quitter if you want, but nobody can argue that it's not fun to suck.)

This year I decided to finally cross "Snowboard" off my bucket list (See below). My lovely friend Jacki, concerned that my first experience needed to be the best it could possibly be, decided we should take a road trip to Utah...aka the "greatest snow on earth"... for my rookie run. So we did.

DAY ONE:
We started with a night ski trip. Background info: We drove all night the evening before and slept for about an hour and a half before going. I don't think this was an actual factor, but I thought it might somehow excuse the fact that I couldn't put my boots on myself, grasp the concept of propelling myself around with one leg on the board, or think to tuck my shirt into my pants. Any one of these things would have made the situation slightly less pathetic.

Up the mountain we went. Choosing what we thought was an easy route, down the mountain we started. The first half of the ride down consisted of me spending a lot of time on my butt.  At one point I fell directly under the chairlift.  I felt I needed to toss a thumbs-up and a "No worries, I've got this!" to the guys passing overhead. To this, one responded, "Hey, you're a hot chick on a snowboard. That's all that matters!"  Indeed.

We met up with a snowboarding class (full of people much younger than I) where I was offered a few quick pointers before my next attempt. That attempt wasn't terribly bad. I know that because the instructor yelled a commendation down to me on my form. If there's anything I can say for myself, it's that I'm pretty good at pretending I know what I'm doing for brief stints of time.

By my second run I kind of felt like I was getting the hang of it... staying up longer and falling less often.  Third time's a charm, right? That is, unless the path you take on your third run is fraught with awful flat parts which require you to hop and shimmy your way to the next hill every time you fall and lose momentum.  I'm pretty sure it was a decade and a half before we finally reached the bottom.  That was it for me.
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DAY TWO:
Bright and early-ish the next morning we headed back for a full day on the slopes.  You would think I would have been better on my second try.  Maybe I would have been if every bone and muscle in my body wasn't aching from eating snow the evening before.  All of the muscles required to get back up from a fall were refusing to function.  I came to the conclusion that it would be a whole lot easier if I just didn't fall. Evidently I like to challenge myself, because I ignored that idea entirely.  At one point I'm fairly certain I left a perfect outline of my body in a snow bank like in the cartoons. No joke.  I was beginning to celebrate the small victories... like getting off the chairlift without face-planting. Things were bleak.

By lunch I had only come down three times and was about ready to quit.  My company convinced me to try another route one more time from the top, so up we went.  They were going to wait for me at the bottom of the first slope before the next hill. I started down, and somehow, in a physics-defying stunt, I manage to fly into the air, swan dive pelvis and rib cage first into the packed snow, and flip over my head and onto my back.  All wind, pride, and possibly future children knocked out of me, I unclipped my bindings and started my nice alpine hike down the mountain.  And so the "hot chick on a snowboard" became the cold chick carrying a snowboard.
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I decided to go back to the lodge and play in the snow by myself while my friends finish out the day.  The next few minutes were a very real illustration of the idea that the night it darkest just before the dawn.  On my way back to the lodge, I took one step with my right foot which dropped 4 feet down into the snow. If you can picture a dejected creature, one leg on top of the snow, the other buried four feet down, snowboard in hand, 3 year olds flying past on skis... that was me. Evidently this was my threshold of ridiculousness, because I broke into a fit of hysterical laughter before awkwardly digging my way out.

I determined my time and money would be best spent if I could at least find a decent place to make a snow angel.

This became my saving angel of mercy, because as I got up from making it...

What did I see? Another chairlift. Slow-moving. Short. With a sign. What was on the sign? A happy polar bear. A happy polar bear in a ski cap. Beckoning to me. Saying, "Here, Ami. Let me show you how to snowboard."  So onto the slow chairlift I sat. And down the perfectly delightful, easy slope I went. By myself. Without falling. Then I did it again. And again. Until Jacki came to find me and we rode it together. Aww...

I won't always snowboard. But when I do...I'll prefer the slope with the happy polar bear.

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"Snowboard" has been replaced on the Endless Bucket List with "Take a Trapeze Lesson."

Truth in Fiction (Realistic Optimism)

It occurred to me recently that the thing I like most about myself is a trait I've developed over the last several years.  I was having a discussion with someone about a movie I'd seen (more than once) in the theater who clearly hadn't appreciated it as much as I had.  How could I have found something so inspiring and personally edifying which he had seen to be silly and ill-developed? This phenomenon inspired several days of introspection.

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No one who knows me well would describe me as an optimist.  I'm a realist at best.  When I was younger, I was even a bit on the "emo" side.  I loved music that was depressing, the color black (I still do) and pondering my tragically normal life.  I spent a lot of time watching TV and movies, and eventually reading books... because those stories were more appealing than my reality.

Charles Dickens became a favorite author of mine. Naturally I would gravitate toward literature set in the miserable, depressing streets of England.  It was as I finished reading "A Tale of Two Cities" for the first time and found myself in tears (I didn't like to cry. Crying was for people who were uncomfortable with sadness.) that I started to realize what it really was that I loved about those stories.  Mr. Dickens found a way to show me incredible beauty through his dark, ugly stories. I realized that the characters and themes I had loved in those books were the worthless drunk who sacrificed himself for those he loved. The escaped-convict-turned-philanthropist. The underlying themes that people can be redeemed and good will win out over evil.

It became a sort of game to me to find the obscure messages in everything I watched and read. It wasn't long before I noticed that not only was I seeing truth in fiction, but in the daily happenings of the chaotic fallen world around me. In the beautifully broken people I met.  It's easy to feel God's love when you train yourself to see His influence in everything around you.

I've gained a firm belief that it is important not only to avoid things that are vulgar, inappropriate, degrading or offensive... but to actively seek out things that are inspiring, uplifting or of eternal value. (Even in "silly" movies.) Not to excuse ugliness, but to find beauty in spite of it.

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And so the game meant to rescue me from reality has become the skill that allows me to embrace and love it.