Southern Baptist Churches and Boot Camp
Somehow I Will Weave It Together--Stick With Me
From my earliest memories up until my Sophomore year in high school my Mom and I attended a Southern Baptist church. We lived across from the church when we lived in Billings and my cousin Jeff and I would ride our bikes in their parking lot and wondering, even at our very young ages, what a Southern Baptist church was doing in Central Montana. Even at my early age I couldn't seem to reconcile all they held sacred with what I knew to be right. When we moved to Park City we found the one and only Southern Baptist church in an 8 mile radius and began attending its 3 weekly services and giving to the Lottie Moon fund.
Pastor Willis was the pastor of the rigid little church filled with men who prayed for too long; not because they liked to be in communion with God but because they liked the sound of their own voices. There wasn't an ounce of grace to be found at Calvary Baptist Church and even when I found my way to Christ at age 11 I did so out of fear instead of adoration and worship. I wanted redemption not to be in fellowship with the Redeemer but because I had been scared out of my mind of hell. You could look deep inside its dark corners and lofty steeple but you wouldn't find anything that resembled grace. Not in the building and certainly not in Pastor Willis. It was shortly after he criticized my 30 year old mother's parenting for allowing me to try out for cheerleading that we left Calvary and never looked back.
Of course you all know that high school girls in short skirts who cheer for high school boys end up pregnant. My Mom, who had ended up pregnant at 15 and had never once worn a cheerleading skirt found his philosophy (and theology) to be pious and self-righteous and off she went taking her single mother-single income 10% tithe (never more,never less...remember NO Grace, dammit) and Lottie Moon offering and politely told pastor Willis with his nagging voice of guilt and shame and his wall of doctrinal beliefs to kiss off.
We landed at a church not even 2 miles away from Calvary and as its name promised, grace abounded and Mom and I felt relief and weight removed.
Years later while in college I attended another Southern Baptist church one Sunday with an Inter-Varsity cronie. We sang all the familiar songs (all 6 verses of "Just As I Am") and at the end of the service after a typical hell, fire and brimstone sermon the Pastor gave the weekly alter call and like so many, many Sundays as a child I felt like I needed to walk the length of the aisle and beg for forgiveness not because of the prompting of the Holy Spirit but so he would stop asking the pianist to play "one more verse" and we could all get home to our crockpot lunches.
That afternoon I was decompressing with my Mom and I told her that despite my bitter memories and utter distaste for anything and everything to do with the Southern Baptist church I had oddly felt "at home". There was something proverbial about the hard-back hymnals, the shame filled message, the never ending alter call that was comforting and familiar deep in my soul. I have no way to explain this.
And so this long cathartic story brings me to Friday where I found myself at Boot Camp after a short, 2 week break. A footcation I call it. As I was getting my butt handed to me on a sweaty, weighted platter I thought back to that Sunday at Rimrock Baptist church and how I had loathed being there yet found it to be wonderful--every single gut wrenching minute of it.
My body tells me 'no' but I won't quite 'cause I want more filled the room and my heart beat to the rhythm of the song but the difference between this song and songs sung from "The Baptist Hymnal" was I didn't feel any guilt, no shame. I felt camaraderie with my fellow classmates whose legs were aching and lungs were burning. Tina, much to her credit and despite her tough outside demeanor, is filled with grace and she while she pushes you to your uttermost limit there is no shame, no embarrassment, when you modify a push up or walk the last lap of power skipping (aka as meth addicted Jan & Jill skipping).
And so there it was at Boot Camp on Friday morning that I began thinking of grace. And acceptance. And community. Every time, every.single.time, I go to Boot Camp I get acceptance and encouragement from my classmates who are all in far better shape than I am. Not even one time have I felt looked down upon as I stumble into class (always the last one) after laps. Never ever, ever have I been embarrassed or felt I was being judged while doing stairs and the first person in a line of 25 has caught up to me and is now slowed down because of my lagging, exhausted, barely moving legs.
God, as He so often does, confirmed my thoughts this weekend with Fowler's message (available on SAC's website in about a week) as he talked about coming along side people in their "journey of healing" and loving them rather than discouraging them.
I feel such gratitude for Tina and every single person in Boot Camp (ESPECIALLY Shannon, who will not give up on me even when I wish she would) who encourage me and hold me accountable. For whatever reason they have invested just a little bit of themselves in me as I am on my journey to wellness.
I can't help but wonder what community, acceptance and grace would have done for my young Mother as she sought Christ's love and forgiveness in church that didn't know how to share what it didn't have.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
I Heart Charlie Sheen
Seriously, I am going to devote this whole blog post to Charlie Sheen quotes. Jeff and I are keeping the 20/20 interview on our DVR just so we can go back to it every now and then for awesome lines we can use. Hopefully over time people will forget Charlie Sheen said these things and we can just totally take credit for them.
I was born dead. It was radical. I'm alive. Bring it.
I'm proud of the way I party; its epic.
Bangin' 7 gram rocks because that's how I roll.
Ambien: the devil's aspirin.
People can't process me because I'm not normal. I'm not interested in the past; I'm the sum total of what's going on right now.
I look around and I see my perfect family and I think 'Not only do I deserve this but wow'.
[Referring to porn stars] They are the best at what they do and I'm the best at what I do and when we're together it's on.
Hey kids, your Dad's a rock star...my kids are going to realize I'm a rock star and that I'm bitchin'.
People misinterpret my passion for anger.
People are relying on [my] money to fuel the magic.
I expose people to magic; I expose them to something they will never see in their normal, boring life.
You borrow my brain for 5 seconds and just be like 'dude, can't handle it, unplug this dude' because you can't handle it because maybe its not of this particular realm. When you've got tiger blood and Adonis DNA man, its like get with the program man. You've been given magic, you've been given gold.
Boom, believe it.
What's the cure? Medicine? Make me like them? Not gonna happen. I'm bi-winning. I win here and I win there. Now what?
What'ts your favorite line? It doesn't have to be here, in fact, even better if it isn't because I just can't get enough of them. I think my favorite is "I'm bi-winning."
Seriously, I am going to devote this whole blog post to Charlie Sheen quotes. Jeff and I are keeping the 20/20 interview on our DVR just so we can go back to it every now and then for awesome lines we can use. Hopefully over time people will forget Charlie Sheen said these things and we can just totally take credit for them.
I was born dead. It was radical. I'm alive. Bring it.
I'm proud of the way I party; its epic.
Bangin' 7 gram rocks because that's how I roll.
Ambien: the devil's aspirin.
People can't process me because I'm not normal. I'm not interested in the past; I'm the sum total of what's going on right now.
I look around and I see my perfect family and I think 'Not only do I deserve this but wow'.
[Referring to porn stars] They are the best at what they do and I'm the best at what I do and when we're together it's on.
Hey kids, your Dad's a rock star...my kids are going to realize I'm a rock star and that I'm bitchin'.
People misinterpret my passion for anger.
People are relying on [my] money to fuel the magic.
I expose people to magic; I expose them to something they will never see in their normal, boring life.
You borrow my brain for 5 seconds and just be like 'dude, can't handle it, unplug this dude' because you can't handle it because maybe its not of this particular realm. When you've got tiger blood and Adonis DNA man, its like get with the program man. You've been given magic, you've been given gold.
Boom, believe it.
What's the cure? Medicine? Make me like them? Not gonna happen. I'm bi-winning. I win here and I win there. Now what?
What'ts your favorite line? It doesn't have to be here, in fact, even better if it isn't because I just can't get enough of them. I think my favorite is "I'm bi-winning."
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
I don't really have anything to write about but my "fans" are demanding some new material. And when I say "fans" I mean 2 people and when I say "demanding" I mean they both Facebooked me about it.
I don't have anything interesting to say. Not a thing. Well I guess I do have one thing to say, today I braided Emily's hair in a way that it made her look like Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. It was accidental but all she needed was some little pointy ears and a bow and arrow and she would have been set.
You other bloggers may understand how sometimes material is just flowing out of you and you just can't write fast enough but then other times, like lately, nothing seems blog-worthy.
Oh, oh...I just thought of something. Last night in the middle of the night, Samuel came barging in to my room crying and saying, "I swallowed some hair and now my brains are going to fall out." I said, "Swallowing hair doesn't make your brains fall out" to which he replied, "You said if Em and I ate hair our brains would fall out."
Here's the amazing part, somehow in the middle of the night I was able to reason where he was coming up with such nonsense and I said, "I did not say that. I said that if you chewed your nails and ate your finger nails you would have to have your appendix out. Now go back to bed." Smarty pants replied, "I'm going to go to bed and eat 100 pieces of hair and you're going to find my brains all over the bed."
Wow. He may be a fuzz crazy.
I don't have anything interesting to say. Not a thing. Well I guess I do have one thing to say, today I braided Emily's hair in a way that it made her look like Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. It was accidental but all she needed was some little pointy ears and a bow and arrow and she would have been set.
You other bloggers may understand how sometimes material is just flowing out of you and you just can't write fast enough but then other times, like lately, nothing seems blog-worthy.
Oh, oh...I just thought of something. Last night in the middle of the night, Samuel came barging in to my room crying and saying, "I swallowed some hair and now my brains are going to fall out." I said, "Swallowing hair doesn't make your brains fall out" to which he replied, "You said if Em and I ate hair our brains would fall out."
Here's the amazing part, somehow in the middle of the night I was able to reason where he was coming up with such nonsense and I said, "I did not say that. I said that if you chewed your nails and ate your finger nails you would have to have your appendix out. Now go back to bed." Smarty pants replied, "I'm going to go to bed and eat 100 pieces of hair and you're going to find my brains all over the bed."
Wow. He may be a fuzz crazy.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Just Call Me Lance
So as you know, Dr. College Ex-Boyfriend suggested I lay off the Boot Camp for a couple weeks to let my foot heal a bit and said instead I should try a spinning class, or as us out of shape folks say, a stationary bike.
When I told Samuel this morning I was going to go ride bikes with Auntie Shannon he freaked out a little bit thinking I was leaving the Y and that he would be at the kid center by himself. I told him no, its a bike that doesn't go anywhere. Samuel, in his cutest little voice said, "That doesn't make any sense. How do you get exercise on a bike that doesn't go anywhere?" Love that kid.
This being my first spinning class, Shannon graciously accompanied me although she is leaving for Hawaii in the morning. She reminded me of this later when half-way a painful "climb up a mountain" she looked at me and said "one hyphenated word: mai-tai." I hate her sometimes.
The spinning class pretty much sucked for a whole 50 minutes. Sucked in a good way, like the teacher is easy on the eyes, the playlist was rocking and it was an awesome work-out but oh wow does that class suck. Why didn't anyone tell me my cooter was going to hurt that bad? Why don't they just make those seats, or saddles as they call them, out of razor blades and get it over with? 10 minutes in and I started composing a letter to Hot Jeff in my head apologizing to him that we would never, ever, ever have sex again. I seriously do not see how putting a little cushion in to those saddles is going to make anyone's work-out less effective and maybe they would be a little more apt to go back if their butt bones weren't bruised after the class.
After a few sets of 8 counts up, 8 counts down, 4 counts up, 4 counts down, 2 counts up, 2 counts down we did ANOTHER freaking mountain climb, well the rest of the class did, I mostly sat and pedaled and wondered when were we going to get to the part in the class when the instructor told us to get off our bikes and walk it up the hill. It became very clear to me that's not how they roll in spinning class and I was going to just have to keep pedaling. Pedaling. Pedaling.
So here's the good news: I did not cry. I did not throw up. I did go buy a little Schwinn gel seat slip cover and I'm taking it with me to class tomorrow because I'll be darned if I'm not stick with this awful class just because of some sort butt bones. Although believe me, there is absolutely nothing I would rather do more tomorrow than sleep through my alarm that will be going off at 4:30am. I take that back; a butt and cooter transplant sounds pretty good right about now. What would that be called? 'Ginaplasty?
So as you know, Dr. College Ex-Boyfriend suggested I lay off the Boot Camp for a couple weeks to let my foot heal a bit and said instead I should try a spinning class, or as us out of shape folks say, a stationary bike.
When I told Samuel this morning I was going to go ride bikes with Auntie Shannon he freaked out a little bit thinking I was leaving the Y and that he would be at the kid center by himself. I told him no, its a bike that doesn't go anywhere. Samuel, in his cutest little voice said, "That doesn't make any sense. How do you get exercise on a bike that doesn't go anywhere?" Love that kid.
This being my first spinning class, Shannon graciously accompanied me although she is leaving for Hawaii in the morning. She reminded me of this later when half-way a painful "climb up a mountain" she looked at me and said "one hyphenated word: mai-tai." I hate her sometimes.
The spinning class pretty much sucked for a whole 50 minutes. Sucked in a good way, like the teacher is easy on the eyes, the playlist was rocking and it was an awesome work-out but oh wow does that class suck. Why didn't anyone tell me my cooter was going to hurt that bad? Why don't they just make those seats, or saddles as they call them, out of razor blades and get it over with? 10 minutes in and I started composing a letter to Hot Jeff in my head apologizing to him that we would never, ever, ever have sex again. I seriously do not see how putting a little cushion in to those saddles is going to make anyone's work-out less effective and maybe they would be a little more apt to go back if their butt bones weren't bruised after the class.
After a few sets of 8 counts up, 8 counts down, 4 counts up, 4 counts down, 2 counts up, 2 counts down we did ANOTHER freaking mountain climb, well the rest of the class did, I mostly sat and pedaled and wondered when were we going to get to the part in the class when the instructor told us to get off our bikes and walk it up the hill. It became very clear to me that's not how they roll in spinning class and I was going to just have to keep pedaling. Pedaling. Pedaling.
So here's the good news: I did not cry. I did not throw up. I did go buy a little Schwinn gel seat slip cover and I'm taking it with me to class tomorrow because I'll be darned if I'm not stick with this awful class just because of some sort butt bones. Although believe me, there is absolutely nothing I would rather do more tomorrow than sleep through my alarm that will be going off at 4:30am. I take that back; a butt and cooter transplant sounds pretty good right about now. What would that be called? 'Ginaplasty?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Random Musings
Tonight I fed my husband and children a smattering of things I found at Safeway and called it a well-balanced meal. Salami & cheese on a baguette, tomato-basil soup (my latest obsession) and bananas. What kind of mother am I?
I came home to a house that looks like a tornado ran through it and I'm thinking of hiring a housekeeper and chef and see if they'll let me pay them in compliments.
I have to take a minimum of 2 weeks off from Boot Camp because it appears I have plantar fasciitis. I'm going to go to a spinning class that meets at the same time instead. Boot Camp Tina said it's a "hell ride." If BC Tina is calling it a hell ride I wonder if I'm going to come out of this alive? I'm taking holy water in with me.
Wanna know the best part of the plantar fasciitis "diagnosis?" Well you know I'm seeing a local podiatrist but I felt like I needed a 2nd opinion so I Facebook messaged Eric the not-a-bastard anymore. He's an orthopedic PA and had all sorts of good information for me. Because it was so much information he ended up calling and discussing it with me and I am telling you that it was only really strange to hear from my college boyfriend, whom I haven't spoken to in like 15 years (besides FB) for foot advice for the first few minutes.
I think when 20/20 does those shows on how evil/wonderful Facebook is they should include my foot story. I personally think I have a whole lot going on that would be very interesting to the American public and that 20/20 should just follow me around with cameras for a good week or so.
Button. Have you noticed the rockin' button Heather over At The Picket Fence made me? How great is she? I have a big ol' girly cyber crush on her and her sister, Vanessa. See the code below the button? Now you can put my button on your blog and give me lots of publicity so I don't have to pay my new housekeeper and chef in compliments.
And finally. Lots of you have been asking about Boot Camp and where you too can go sign up for this particular brand of hellish torture and I have good news for you. For the rest of THIS MONTH if you go to the YMCA downtown and tell them you heard about them through The Mother Hen blog you will get your $99 initiation fee waived! How about that? And when you are so sore you can't get out of bed and all you can do is lay there and read archived posts from this blog you will thank me.
Tonight I fed my husband and children a smattering of things I found at Safeway and called it a well-balanced meal. Salami & cheese on a baguette, tomato-basil soup (my latest obsession) and bananas. What kind of mother am I?
I came home to a house that looks like a tornado ran through it and I'm thinking of hiring a housekeeper and chef and see if they'll let me pay them in compliments.
I have to take a minimum of 2 weeks off from Boot Camp because it appears I have plantar fasciitis. I'm going to go to a spinning class that meets at the same time instead. Boot Camp Tina said it's a "hell ride." If BC Tina is calling it a hell ride I wonder if I'm going to come out of this alive? I'm taking holy water in with me.
Wanna know the best part of the plantar fasciitis "diagnosis?" Well you know I'm seeing a local podiatrist but I felt like I needed a 2nd opinion so I Facebook messaged Eric the not-a-bastard anymore. He's an orthopedic PA and had all sorts of good information for me. Because it was so much information he ended up calling and discussing it with me and I am telling you that it was only really strange to hear from my college boyfriend, whom I haven't spoken to in like 15 years (besides FB) for foot advice for the first few minutes.
I think when 20/20 does those shows on how evil/wonderful Facebook is they should include my foot story. I personally think I have a whole lot going on that would be very interesting to the American public and that 20/20 should just follow me around with cameras for a good week or so.
Button. Have you noticed the rockin' button Heather over At The Picket Fence made me? How great is she? I have a big ol' girly cyber crush on her and her sister, Vanessa. See the code below the button? Now you can put my button on your blog and give me lots of publicity so I don't have to pay my new housekeeper and chef in compliments.
And finally. Lots of you have been asking about Boot Camp and where you too can go sign up for this particular brand of hellish torture and I have good news for you. For the rest of THIS MONTH if you go to the YMCA downtown and tell them you heard about them through The Mother Hen blog you will get your $99 initiation fee waived! How about that? And when you are so sore you can't get out of bed and all you can do is lay there and read archived posts from this blog you will thank me.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Along Comes Polly
Polly is in my Boot Camp class and we are the real-life version of that Arnold Schwarzenegger-Danny DeVito movie Twins. She is tall and thin and blond. I am...not. If we were a food she would be the spaghetti and I would be the meatball.
On Friday we had to workout with a partner and since I was standing next to Polly she turned and looked at me and said, "Wanna be my partner?" First of all, how sweet is Polly? Who wants to be my partner in Boot Camp? That class is filled with hard core workout freaks and I was thinking the only person who would want to be my partner would be someone who had just called the suicide hot line and felt like they needed a really good laugh and that watching my face turn different shades of red and purple would surely cause them to realize that their life was worth living.
For the split second before Polly asked me to be her partner I was convinced it was going to be just like 5th grade when everyone is picking teams for dodge ball and Steve Downing and Ryan Hunt are the team captains and its down to you and Sammie Fee and Steve picks Sammie.
Ok, I digress. Anyway, tall Polly and I were partners for this sick and twisted exercise that involved bungee cords of torture that we put around each other's waste and then took turns pulling each other around the track. It turned out to not be that bad until we had to turn around and do it backwards.
When I was telling my Mom about the exercise she said, "Oh yeah, I've seen that on The Biggest Loser" as if that's supposed to make me feel better. "Oh yeah, I've seen that on that show where they torture fat people and call it entertainment." Oh yeah...
So anyway, bottom line: Polly blessed me. And seriously, who doesn't need to be blessed at 6:00 in the morning when they have sweat dripping down their face and a spilled chocolate protein drink on their shirt? Yes, I dribbled some of it on my shirt in the car, on my way to BC. Polly told me she thought it was blood! Ha!
One final thought from yesterday's Boot Camp. What is with all those stupid freaking mirrors all over the place? Seriously. Yesterday during our cool down, for the first time since I started, I didn't feel like I was going to vomit or pass out. I was feeling so good about myself and feeling like a rock star and like Comcast was going to be calling me to star in my own On Demand workout show when I caught a glimpse of my butt in one of those mirrors. It startled me. No kidding--IT STARTLED ME. I was like "when did Gigi (who has an enormous ass) get here?"
Polly is in my Boot Camp class and we are the real-life version of that Arnold Schwarzenegger-Danny DeVito movie Twins. She is tall and thin and blond. I am...not. If we were a food she would be the spaghetti and I would be the meatball.
On Friday we had to workout with a partner and since I was standing next to Polly she turned and looked at me and said, "Wanna be my partner?" First of all, how sweet is Polly? Who wants to be my partner in Boot Camp? That class is filled with hard core workout freaks and I was thinking the only person who would want to be my partner would be someone who had just called the suicide hot line and felt like they needed a really good laugh and that watching my face turn different shades of red and purple would surely cause them to realize that their life was worth living.
For the split second before Polly asked me to be her partner I was convinced it was going to be just like 5th grade when everyone is picking teams for dodge ball and Steve Downing and Ryan Hunt are the team captains and its down to you and Sammie Fee and Steve picks Sammie.
Ok, I digress. Anyway, tall Polly and I were partners for this sick and twisted exercise that involved bungee cords of torture that we put around each other's waste and then took turns pulling each other around the track. It turned out to not be that bad until we had to turn around and do it backwards.
When I was telling my Mom about the exercise she said, "Oh yeah, I've seen that on The Biggest Loser" as if that's supposed to make me feel better. "Oh yeah, I've seen that on that show where they torture fat people and call it entertainment." Oh yeah...
So anyway, bottom line: Polly blessed me. And seriously, who doesn't need to be blessed at 6:00 in the morning when they have sweat dripping down their face and a spilled chocolate protein drink on their shirt? Yes, I dribbled some of it on my shirt in the car, on my way to BC. Polly told me she thought it was blood! Ha!
One final thought from yesterday's Boot Camp. What is with all those stupid freaking mirrors all over the place? Seriously. Yesterday during our cool down, for the first time since I started, I didn't feel like I was going to vomit or pass out. I was feeling so good about myself and feeling like a rock star and like Comcast was going to be calling me to star in my own On Demand workout show when I caught a glimpse of my butt in one of those mirrors. It startled me. No kidding--IT STARTLED ME. I was like "when did Gigi (who has an enormous ass) get here?"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)