Christ - the only complete realist

"No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good. A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have always lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it; and Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation really means—the only complete realist." -- Clive Staples Lewis

Drops of Oil

First, a story...

"A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.

"Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with the platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given the man's attention.

"The wise man listened attentively to the boy's explanation of why he had come, but told him that he didn't have time just then to explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.

"'Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something,' said the wise man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. 'As you wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill.'

"The boy began climbing and descending the main stairways of the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise man was.

"'Well,' asked the wise man, ' did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?'

"The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

"'Then go back and observe the marvels of my world,' said the wise man. 'You cannot trust a man if you don't know his house.'

"Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art on the ceiling and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen.

"'But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?' asked the wie man.

"Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.

"'Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you,' side the wisest of wise men. 'The secret of happiness is to see the marvels of the world, and never forget the drops of oil on the spoon.'"

How can we go through life and experience all the joys of the world without spilling our oil? I think the drops of oil are representative of our daily responsibilities and tasks...going to work, cleaning the house, taking a shower, etc. It all comes back to balance. Our lives must have balance. We cannot focus all our efforts on long-term goals and forget the short-term, after all, the journey of a thousand miles is just a million small steps. On the other hand, we cannot get too caught up in just surviving this life - we have to be able to thrive. This quest for balance is a decision we have to make everyday. We need to constantly balance today against tomorrow...and tomorrow's tomorrow. I don't want to look back at my life, twenty years from now, and realize that I haven't seen the beauties of the world...but I also don't want to spill my oil by running around recklessly.

What are your drops of oil?

Validation

Everyone should watch this...it makes me want to be a better person.

"We could go bowling...or we could just hang ourselves."

I hate bowling...

and this video is funny...

T.V.

The Greek word for "far" is tele. The Latin word for "sight" is visio. These two words together form one pretty awesome word: TELEVISION. The TV is been commercially available since the late 1930s, and I love it.

Today, over 99% of American households own a TV. Also, the average home has more than 2 TVs and 66% of Americans have 3 or more sets. According to Nielsen, the average American watches over 4 hours of TV a day. In a 65-year life, the average American will have spent over 9 years watching TV! Almost as surprising, only 49% of American's feel that they watch too much TV. Does this mean that 51% don't think 4 hours is enough!!

I believe I more than qualify as an "Average American." I currently have six TVs in my house, not including the two sets sitting in my basement that aren't plugged in. I don't watch four hours of TV a day...but I might if I could. By no means am I a TV junkie, but I do indulge far too often. I started typing a list of all the TV shows a regularly follow...this doesn't even include the shows that I'll watch when nothing else is on. Some of my favorites.

• Amazing Race (Truly AMAZING...I'm going on it one day and winning a cool $1,000,000)
• Desperate Housewives (Its my guilty pleasure & I watch it every week with my mom)
• Survivor (I've been watching all 20 seasons and we still hold "Survivor Parties")
• The O.C. (My heart broke when Marissa died...stupid Volchok)
• Seinfeld (The classic...always an awesome watch at 10:30 on Fox)
• 30 Rock (The show is comedic genius...Liz Lemon is hysterical)
• The Office (I'm fading on this one...but still always hilarious to watch)
• SNL (No show makes me laugh harder...those ESPN Classic parodies are priceless)
• The Big Bang Theory (Highly recommend it...Sheldon is a genius...literally)
• Lost (This is the show I hate to love...its addicting. I've broken the obsession a few times, but I've started back up again - I have Season 6 left...so many questions)
• Law & Order (Dick Wolf is an icon and I love him. I have a L&O ringtone on my phone and I'm pretty sure I've seen every episode ever produced...yet I openly participate in those TBS marathons
• Arrested Development (If I had a time machine, my first stop would be to go back and beg people (myself included) to watch this when it was airing so it wouldn't be cancelled...3 seasons was not enough...)

You Are Special

You Are Speical

-by Max Lucado

The Wemmicks were small wooden people. Each of the wooden people was carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village. Every Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village. And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people could be seen sticking stars or dots on one another.

The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots. The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing very pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.

Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star it made them feel so good that they did something else and got another star. Others, though, could do little. They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots.

Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots. He would try to explain why he fell and say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots. After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one without reason. "He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another. "He's not a good wooden person."

After a while Punchinello believed them. "I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say. The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots. He felt better around them.

One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. Some admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn't stay either. 'That's the way I want to be,'thought Punchinello. 'I don't want anyone's marks.' So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it. "It's easy," Lucia replied. "every day I go see Eli."

"Eli?" "Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him." "Why?" "Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there."

And with that the Wemmick with no marks turned and skipped away. "But he won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out. Lucia didn't hear. So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots. "It's not right," he muttered to himself. And he resolved to go see Eli. He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard. "I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave. Then he heard his name.

"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong. Punchinello stopped. "Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you." Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman. "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.

"Of course I do. I made you." Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench. "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he inspected the gray circles. "Looks like you've been given some bad marks." "I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard." "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think." "You don't?"

No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots?
They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."
Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?"

Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me."
Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this--much less his maker. He didn't know what to say.
"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.
"I came because I met someone who had no marks."
"I know. She told me about you."
"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"
"Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them."

"What?"
"The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care." Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground. "Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door. "You are special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes."

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, "I think he really means it."
And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.

May all your dots fall silently to the ground, for if given by man, they matter only to other men, if given by the Gods, no one questions, the scars that make up our lives.

Safety for the Soul