jesus – galloblog

George

I lost my puppy last week. He was over 2 years old, but all my dogs are forever puppies in my eyes. The grief and sadness is intense. For better or for worse, I loved my little puppers like he was my own son. I expected him to be a part of my family for over a decade more.

Then, one morning I woke up as usual to exuberant puppy kisses. I stumble downstairs, my two dogs hopping around me in excitement. I fire off a work email as I heat up water for tea and pour my cereal. I take my cereal bowl and herd my dogs outside to the backyard, where I plop on a lawn chair and start to eat my cereal. My dogs are sniffing around per usual.

Suddenly I hear a loud rustle of leafs. At first I thought it was a squirrel, as they also sound like they weigh 100x more than they do. But it registered in my sleepy brain that these leaf rustles were far too loud even for a squirrel. I look up and I see two pit bulls barreling down the hill that leads into our backyard grassy area.

From there, I got complete tunnel vision. I heard my 6 lb. dog Harry give a frightened yelp and I see him hunkered, with a look of surprise and hurt on his sweet face. One of the pitbulls is standing next to him with his tail wagging. I run to him and pick him up, putting him under my right armpit. I look for George, my 15 lb dog. His neck is in the mouth of a big pit bull.

I run over and try to reach him, and manage to kick the black pitbull but he dances away with George in his mouth. I try this at least 2 or 3 times while Harry is crying in fear. I realize I need to get Harry out of the way. I run to my basement door and stick him inside. Then I run back to George.

The black pitbull is having a ball. He is gnawing on George’s neck with absolute relish. Every time I get remotely close he just ran away. George is motionless with his precious tongue sticking out of his mouth. I don’t really know how much noise I was making or what I was saying. I do remember feeling a panicked dread when I realize I couldn’t protect him. At the top of my lungs I scream “ANDREW WAKE UP” hoping my husband would hear from upstairs and help. Then I just kept screaming. At some point I remember seeing my neighbor who owns the pitbulls coming down the road. The black pitbull eventually released George when he heard his owner. I pick up George and run to the gate for the neighbors to get his dogs.

My neighbor looked shocked. “Is he hurt?” I look down at George who is motionless and has streaks of blood in his fur. “He’s bleeding,” I said. He asked me which dog attacked George and I pointed to the black one. “What? He has never..” my neighbor started to say. At some point another neighbor had run up but just backed away when he saw me talking to the pitbull’s owner. I murmured something like “I have to get him to Andrew,” and closed the gate. I went into the basement and I didn’t see Harry. My heart dropped in fear as I called him and he didn’t run up. I ran up the stairs and he was at the basement door leading to our ground floor. He started crying in fear when he saw me. I ran into the downstairs and again screamed for Andrew to wake up. Andrew came running down the stairs, gun drawn. When he saw George he put it away. We confirmed George had a heart beat and was breathing.

From there we had a quick conversation about what to do. We agreed to take him to our local vet first. The vet checked out George and said all his vitals were fine just mostly dehydrated but he needed emergency services. We took him to the ER. On the way he moved a little bit and even stuck his head out the window. I felt a flicker of hope. When we got to the ER, they told us George was lucky. He needed stitches and would be very sore for several days but he should be okay. They would do a quick procedure with George anesthetized and it would take a few hours.

We go home and wait, trying not to freak out Harry with our apprehension. We realize Harry has some blood on his back and a swelling in his abdomen. We decide to go back to the ER and have Harry checked out while we wait for George.

They check Harry out, tell us he has a little puncture but should be okay. Keep an eye on him. They tell us George is done with his stitches. They bring out a completely floppy George in a half body cast who has obviously not woken up from anesthesia yet. At this point I should have questioned. But we were still exhausted and shocked. They give us his discharge information and we leave.

At home, George is still very drowsy. Every once in a while he opened his eyes and seemed conscious. He finally moved his pale, swollen tongue back inside his mouth. I think his breathing seems labored and weird. I call the ER and ask if I should be concerned. They tell me he’s been through a lot of trauma and just needs to sleep. About 30-60 minutes later, his breathing is still weird and sounds like a whistle. I call again and they ask when he had surgery. They seem concerned he hasn’t recovered from anesthesia yet and tell me to bring him in.

We drive to the ER. George seems more alert and of course his breathing is slow and steady now. A technician comes out and barely looks at him but tells me basically what the first person on the phone said – he has been through a lot of trauma, he seems fine, just let him sleep. Okay then. We go back home. I decide to sleep with George on the floor so he doesn’t wake up and get scared that he’s alone. I hold his paw in my hands. His breathing seems a little funky to me but I remember what the ER told me and try to just let him sleep. Around 2:30 a.m. he chokes up some peanut butter we had tried to give him earlier and starts breathing extremely labored. This did not seem remotely normal by any means. I wake up my husband. He sees that George is struggling to breath and tries to give him mouth-to-mouth. A few seconds later, George stops breathing. I pick him up and start wailing. Andrew runs to the bathroom and vomits. Harry is barking and scared. I make him sniff George so he understands he is gone and doesn’t think he’s just been abandoned. I think I may feel George’s heart beating but I realize it’s just mine racing. I feel an explosion of sorrow and disbelief.

We drive back to the ER with George in my arms for cremation. Andrew picks him up and I call him back to the truck so I can pet George’s soft ears for the last time. Andrew disappears into the ER and I never see my puppy again.

My sweet baby George. He was the epitome if someone who knew me better than I knew myself had hand-designed a dog to fill every place in my heart. He was a cuddle-bunny, was obsessed with playing but not very good about the release part. He had the strongest little front arms that he would wrap tightly around his toy and it was so much effort to get it away from him. He occasionally would just play with himself – find a toy and throw it up in the air and then pounce on it,or bring it to the top of his doggy stairs and let is roll down so he could chase it. He could be a nervous nelly – decided he was very afraid of loud noises, even the sizzling of a pan made him shake with fear. I loved comforting him. i loved snuggling him. I loved playing with him. I loved teaching him.

I can’t believe I had no more chance to help improve his interactions with humans, become a more confident swimmer, learn to overcome his aggression with visitors and aggressive dogs.

George, George. You were taken away way way too soon. You were healthy as a horse, you were extremely happy and loved more than most children around the world. We were ready and able to take care of you for your entire life, which we hoped would be very long.

The pain from losing a dog is so profound. In some ways it is worse than losing a human. It has nothing to do with valuing their life over a human, but it’s for two main reasons I think. One, they are part of almost every hour of your life, especially if you work from home. There was basically no part of my daily life they weren’t a part of except going to the gym and grocery shopping. So their absence is incredibly felt as your entire house and entire day is full of the memory of their sweet presence. Two, they are so so innocent. All George wanted to do was play with toys, sniff things, and love on his pack (me, my husband, and our little dog Harry). He had no evil in him and no understanding of evil. He often slept on his back with his belly exposed, a sign that he felt exceptionally safe and secure.

It is not fair that this precious life was ripped from him by a dog that also wanted to play, but had no bite inhibition. I hope with my entire heart that George was actually conscious a few times after surgery so that his last moments were not of being attacked by a huge monster, but of us loving on him,

Oh George my heart aches for you. I want to hold you so bad. I can’t conceive of never holding you again, never scratching your soft ears, never feeling your exuberant sloppy kisses.

George, George. I hope you are in heaven. Some people think that’s goofy but I think it could be true. The bible talks about Jesus restoring all creation, not just humans. Also the lion will lay down with the lamb.. maybe a metaphor, maybe not? I really really hope there’s not a “dog heaven” but just a heaven, that includes all animal souls not just pets. And I hope I get to see George again, and that all wrongs including his very very wrong death will be made right. I hope he’s now playing with Desi and Lucy (our dogs that passed in 2022), Zorro (2008) and Valentine (2002). I hope he never has fear and nervousness in his heart ever again. I hope to see him jumping crazily up beside me as I enter heaven.

Please Jesus I beg you – please let me see my loved ones again. Even if it’s different from what I expect, please please.

I know that compared to you I am a dumb flea, and there’s this massive gap in my understanding and ability to understand. I’m sorry I don’t trust you more, but heaven seems creepy and cold without the people I love. And not in a generic ethereal unembodied sense but actually there. If not, what is the point of human relationship, invidivual identities here on earth? Why? Scripture seems to point to individuals keeping their individuality in Heaven. Jesus please let it be so. Please let me see, feel, know that you love me. Please let me rest in your embrace. Please don’t let me be deceived.

Free to love (freely)

About oh .. 51 days ago, my best friend and love of my life asked me to marry him. (In classic Gallo weirdness, I said “si!” instead of yes.) It was the best of contexts – at the top of a mountain after a glorious hike. His proposal was the perfect mix of silliness and deep sincerity, and it was the easiest answer C Gallo has ever given.

Actual pic of the event. I was so amazed when a little cartoon heart popped out of the ring box!!

The type of happiness that filled me was a unique sort. The other most significant event in my life where I felt incredibly happy was right after my dissertation defense, but that was the happiness that comes from a heavy, ever-present burden being suddenly lifted. Being engaged might be a tiny bit about the removal of the “burden” of singleness (although I actually enjoyed being single for most of my life), but it’s much more about the addition of something awesome and literally life changing. Sure, we dated for 2+ years, so you might think that a “long-term” dating relationship is similar to being engaged. It is absolutely not.

Pretty much all my other dating relationships that lasted any length of time required vigilance to suppress my exuberant heart and wild expectations. I always had this stern voice in the back of my head telling me to pull back, curb my expectations, and keep enough mental and emotional distance so that I wouldn’t be completely distraught when the inevitable end came. Even if that inevitable end was initiated by me, it still sucked.

A stoic I am not.

But being engaged! It is no longer weird or creepy to think about the future. It isn’t even weird and creepy to talk about the future with the very man I want in it! It’s even.. recommended?! I don’t have to worry that I love him too much or want to be around him too much. For the first time, the depth of my feelings and inner commitment are not an inverse measure of how miserable I will be down the road, but a measure of how happy I will be down the road. Craziness!

Granted, at some point while dating my fiance I said to myself “Girl, if this ends you are going to be a total mess for a loooong time. But whatevs. He — and this zany, amazing, heart lifting relationship we have built — is truly worth it.” So even though* I was pretty terrible at tempering the wild romantic within me as I dated my forever Galloboo, there is still a difference that now there’s nothing remotely foolish about it. And that is incredibly joyful.

This may seem a rather awkward transition, but I can’t help but connect this whole experience to my faith. Being engaged hasn’t made me forget other men I dated or even how I felt about them at the time. Now, the sadness or angst I felt during/after those relationships is no longer tragic but kind of .. humorous? I look back at myself sobbing over some idiot and I want to tenderly pat my shoulder and say “girl, you have no idea. Keep it moving.” I wonder if this is what is meant by “there will be no tears in heaven.” That statement has been speculated to mean we won’t have memories of anything that happened on earth, because there’s no way we could remember all the sadness and angst of our lives and not cry. I disagree. I modestly propose that perhaps we actually will remember – everything. But, in the face of our one, complete true Love the contrast with our former sadsies and angsties will not subtract, but add to our joy.

❤

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

*or because of? Hmmm…!

Rat god

I spend a lot of time alone in a basement, surrounded by rats. Because of my sacharin nature, I have not been able to keep my foolish heart from becoming attached to my furry little experimental subjects. Some experiments that I conduct require me to sit in silence for long periods of time as I watch my rats explore, freeze, groom, poop, or otherwise ruin my experiment. Naturally, my brilliant mind wanders. Often, it wanders straight into crazy town (see below).

I hate how afraid my rats are of me. Every time I open up their cages to deftly pick them up at the base of their tails and gently place them in whatever experimental apparatus I pre-ordained for them that day, they flail their little feet as if I was doing something horribly torturous. Usually the task my rats are being drama queens about is something fairly benign from my point of view, like placing them into a large round container for 5 minutes while absolutely nothing bad happens to them – I’m just there to observe how much time they spend hugging the edges of the circle versus strutting confidently in the middle (this is a measure of anxiety). Then right back they go to the comfort of their own little homes.

I wish I could explain to them that I come in peace, that I mean them no harm. I wish I could explain to them that the bizarre little rituals I’m putting them through are for a reason. A grand reason that no street rat – whose miserable little existence comprises of slinking around city dumpsters to forage for food before it gets eaten by a hawk or poisoned by pest control – would ever dream of. These lab rats of mine will never have such a gritty existence because these are no ordinary rats. They have special genetic mutations that cause them to over produce the “bad” form of a protein so that they begin to resemble humans with Alzheimer’s disease as they age. Almost everything about them – how anxious they are, how long it takes them to fall asleep, how well they learn a new task, how quickly they will give up in a challenging task, where and how much pathology is in their brains – could be an important key to helping millions of humans with Alzheimer’s disease. Think about how many humans aren’t even blessed with that sort of distinct purpose.

Another scientist in another lab created this rat strain for such a time as this. We didn’t kidnap their ancestors off the streets to fulfill our evil scientific schemes – these rats would not even exist if not for scientists. And then they came to me. I decide what happens in their lives. Some I randomly assign to be breeders. As such they get to have lots of great sex and raise little families. #toblessedtobestressed But most rats I assign for my experiments. They could be designated to a very short experiment, and the last thing they ever experience will be mild confusion in a weird new box before they join the Big Rat in the Sky. Or, they could be involved in a very long, complicated experiment in which they will be subject to all sort of weird environments, some even mildly aversive or painful, and have a lot of interaction with a large scary mammal who smells like coffee and tacos. Sometimes this large scary mammal seems sinister – most of them remember her taking them into a new, stinky room, losing consciousness, and then waking up with their head screaming in pain. But sometimes this large scary mammal seems compassionate – they also remember her visiting them at home when they had headaches, and giving them yummy food that eased the ache in their heads. This large scary mammal also frequently put them in stressful situations, but never seemed to let anything actually bad happen to them. Until, well… They don’t like to think about why all those cousins never came back that one time.

I am, essentially, Rat god.

I’m much more advanced, capable, powerful than these critters -why do I want to explain myself to them? Why do I care what they think about me? Why do I want to make myself known to them?

Because they’re cute.

And this has led me to have a thought that’s probably wildly irreverent. One part of the Christian story that never made tons of sense to me was why God would ever choose to reveal himself to us. Why not just let us go about our dumb petty lives and then die, never the wiser? But my stint as Rat god has made me wonder.. What if God decided to work humankind into his plan and reveal himself to us because, well… he thinks we’re cute?

Just think it over before you immediately dismiss it, that’s all I ask!

— Editorial Notes —

Obviously the God-as-kind-scientist metaphor can only go so far, but that’s ok. I’m not trying to design a new religion, so everyone spit out that grapefruit-flavored Topo Chico you just drank!

Are you unequally faceboked?

It is with great heaviness of heart I report a recent phenomenon scouring the Christian community: couples who are unequally faceboked. You know who I’m referring to – she publicly proclaims her love for her boo every Birthday, anniversary, and father’s day, but he hasn’t logged onto facebook for 17 months. Or his profile picture features their wedding photo, but hers still features her face and the shoulder of a high school boyfriend.

Many couples struggle with mismatched facebook activity. It can create a discordance that ripples into their actual lives. Many men report feeling “extreme sorrow” that their girlfriends or wives cannot appreciate a witty meme they have shared because they’re so disconnected from the online community. One man complained, “I put my heart and soul into a meme, and she just asked ‘who’s that blonde woman yelling at that cat? Is she an ex-girlfriend you’re still pining for?!'”

Women have also expressed frustration when they continually post pictures of their boo with hearts and kiss-face emojis, and their husbands or boyfriends do not even bother to like their post. “I just feel so humiliated. My friends have noticed he never likes our couple pictures. Many have asked if he’s a hired model, or if our relationship is on the rocks,” confided one woman.

If you’re already married and unequally faceboked, the Galloblog staff recommend seeking emergency counseling. If you are in a dating relationship, we strongly encourage you to sit down with your significant other and cast a vision for facebook compatibility. “Communicating concrete expectations is key,” says Dr. C Gallo. It’s not insurmountable if you’re unequally faceboked, but it is a sign of a major problem in your relationship. Dr. Gallo added, “There’s no shame in getting help- sync your activity now for a brighter future.”

^an evenly faceboked couple beams as they peruse their home page. ❤

WWJD: Who Would Jesus Diss

https://giphy.com/gifs/internet-support-feed-xkOB9CxV08mQM

So apparently two full grown adults, who happen to be famous Christians, have some beef with each other. As far as I am aware, neither has spoken to the other personally, but rather they have referenced the other’s comments or platforms via public forums such as social media, interviews, and large conferences. And now the Christian community at large is all aflutter. I honestly would never have known who said what and when if not for individuals feeling the need to leap into the fray and declare their support for one and/or disdain for the other. Who is right? Who is wrong? Who is scripturally sound? Who is more Christ-like? Who sits on a throne of lies? Who smells like beef and cheese? Personally, my question is, “Who cares?”

Why are we speculating over which of the two is most likely to host Pancakes with Beelzebub? What exactly do we have riding on this?

What would be laughable if it weren’t so sad is how predictably the lines fall for the debate. On one side:

Posts IG pictures of a steaming mug next to a highlighted devotional
Cried watching The Blind Side
Almost certainly has a Live Laugh Love sign somewhere in their home

On the other side:

Likely have no idea what IG stands for
Typed up their treatise on why they support Person A on Microsoft Word, pausing periodically to consult their 36 volume, leather bound set of Greek-Hebrew concordances of the New and Old Testaments
Would never get a tattoo… but if they did, it would be a toss up on an upper arm portrait either of John Piper or St Augustine

I almost get the feeling that these two factions have been simmering in resentment towards each other and leapt on this opportunity to condemn those filthy sinners on “the other side”. In all likelihood, they could really complement each others’ strengths and weaknesses if they so chose. But where is our love for one another? Why do we feel the need to join into these camps?

None of this is to say that Christians can’t discuss and debate points of theology. It would be disastrous if we never questioned one another or dug into what scripture tells us. In my mind, there is a difference between discussing the merits of an idea, the scriptural accuracy of a specific teaching, etc., and gleefully condemning an individual, name calling, and self-righteous posturing. A prime example for the most current debate: “I can’t believe this scum sucking pig would dare to insult a fellow Christian! That son of a motherless goat!”

The individuals in this public conflict are just two humans. Our faith isn’t dictated by what they say or believe. Neither one of them is without sin, and none of us are, either. Why don’t we focus on the only one who is? Maybe we could spend more time reading what he said instead of someone else’s book or commentary. This petty squabbling makes a mockery of the church. Let’s stop rushing to divide ourselves by allegiance to a mortal teacher. Let’s look at the unifying factor among us and celebrate Him.

Nothing in Christianity makes sense except in the light of relationship

Let me begin this post with a profound quote-*

Nothing in Christianity makes sense except in the light of relationship.

-C Gallo, 2019

The relational aspect of Christianity is the overarching story that ties all the aspects of the Christian faith together. If you try to understand any piece of Christianity without it, you will have misguided ideas of how Christian theology should be applied to your own life. Your faith will be stunted.

Maybe this was obvious to every other Christian, but for me it was a game-changer. I don’t want to overstate my own knowledge, but I have a good grasp of Christian theology. I understand the big stuff – the trinity, the fall of mankind, redemption, etc. I even enjoy getting into the weeds of more nuanced theology like eschatology** and predestination. But often, the more I pander to my brain the more my heart checks out. My faith shrivels.

How or why does the relationship aspect of Christianity matter to me?

Relationship gives life to my faith

Christianity as a religion is boring, oppressive, and constraining. It is often harmful and can be used to exploit people. Christianity as a religion will not help you better yourself (for long). It will not give you warm fuzzies (for long). Christianity in terms of relationship, though…! The wildest but perhaps most important claim of Christianity that we claim to actually know – have a relationship with – a spiritual being. THE spiritual being. It isn’t a neat and tidy abstract idea, and it’s not a flawless system of logic. It is [or should be] crazy and scary and exciting.

Relationship affects how I think about oppositions to my faith

I sometimes encounter people who insist on badgering me about my faith. All of them look triumphant if I don’t have an instant answer to any of their misgivings about Christianity. They express dismay at my lack of open-mindedness and refusal to be in a perpetual mode of discovery. I will tell them something like “I’m not sure how to answer that, but this doesn’t necessitate me abandoning my faith ,” or “I’m really not in a place to effectively research every opposition or issue you’ve brought to my attention.” Some have implicated that they pity me a weak-minded, brain-washed child who won’t (or can’t) contemplate all the mysteries of my faith on a flip of a dime.

If they were challenging the conclusions of my last published research article, they would be perfectly justified in this attitude. Scientists should always be open to new discoveries and be the harshest, most vigilant critics of their own theories and data. But Christianity is more than a theory or data points. It’s a relationship. It grows. It involves experiences that build on each other. At some point, a trust is formed. Those experiences and that trust transforms the way you think about all new data.

For example, I have been dating someone for about a year.*** When we first started dating, if someone had come up and told me “I have good evidence that your new guy is a major flake and you really can’t trust him to do what he says,” I would have taken their words seriously. I would have launched an investigation into whether or not that was true. I would have considered halting all romantic activities until I settled whether or not I could trust him.

Now that we’ve been together for a while, however, it would be crazy for me to take them seriously. I wouldn’t waste time reevaluating every interaction my boyfriend and I had in the past year. I wouldn’t ask for us to take a break while I investigated. I wouldn’t even ask him about it. I simply know that they are wrong. Even if the person who told me that believed strongly in their statement, I would conclude that they misinterpreted his actions in the past. It’s not that I’m brainwashed or in denial of any potential flaws, but we have experiences together. At some point, a trust was formed. I have seen him in bad moods and good moods, around his parents and around his friends, extremely sleep-deprived and well-rested, very relaxed and under an enormous amount of pressure. During all of this, everything he’s told me he would do- he’s done. Every event he’s told me he would come to- he’s been there. So it’s not that I’m stupid or blind, it’s that we are in a relationship. And the relationship itself has changed how I view any new information or perceptions any one else might have about him.

Just the same, I’m not going to approach all objections to God in a purely objective or abstract way. I can’t. That does not – I repeat, does NOT – make me a brainwashed buffoon.

Relationship affects how you think about being good

This is probably one of the most misunderstood features of Christianity – the “good deeds” issue. It’s widely recognized that Christians should, in theory at least, be good people. Yet a major tenant of Christianity is that humans are already so deep in the pit of imperfection that no amount of good deeds could ever pull us out of it. So if we can’t earn good standing and we’re putting every single egg we have in the grace basket, what’s the point – why do anything good at all?

Strangely enough, I have found great insight into this issue from the movie The Breakup. In one scene, they’re having a huge fight about how the boyfriend Gary is never doing the good deeds that Brooke asks him to do.

Gary: “Fine, I’ll help you do the damn dishes.”
Brooke: “That’s not what I want. I want you to want to do the dishes.”
Gary: “Why would I want to do dishes?”

Gary would want to do the dishes if he cared more about making Brooke happy than he cared about making himself happy. He should do the good deed because he knows it’s something she cares about and would bring her joy – no more, no less. It’s the exact same thing with good deeds in Christianity. We don’t do good deeds to prove we’re better than other people, or because it comes easily to us, or because we think we’re earning some sort of spiritual brownie points. We do good deeds because we have reason to believe they are important to God and bring him joy – no more, no less.

I don’t think God wants us approach good deeds like, “Fine, I’ll help you do the damn dishes.” I believe he wants us to want to do the dishes.

— EDITORIAL —

*Phraseology stolen from Theodosius Dozhansky, who thought evolution was the overarching story that tied all of biology together. ( “Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light if evolution”). If anyone tried to understand any piece of biology without it, Dozhanksy claimed, they would have misguided hypotheses. Their scientific discovery would be stunted. This post isn’t about evolution, but I have a compulsion to provide the source of my thoughts. My deepest fear is getting caught in a scandal that involves accidental plagiarism. BUT I will say that if you are curious about how the Genesis creation story relates to current scientific thought on human origins, I highly recommend reading The Lost World of Adam and Eve by John H. Walton (amazon link here). It greatly influenced my thoughts on the subject.

**the ONLY reason I dropped the esch bomb was to be a Pretentious Pretentierson.

***No one knows for sure. It is currently a hot topic of debate by many scholars.

30 nuggets of wisdom for 30 years

My 30th birthday is just around the riverbend*, so this Gallowolf would like to cry the wisdom she’s learned to the blue corn moon. Please commit all of these to memory and send me a $30 cashier’s check every time my lil nuggets of wisdom save you from a pickle.** Thank you in advance.

Drums, please!

You don’t have to date everyone who’s a good person
Be okay with uncertainty in relationships
Don’t try to engineer and control any relationship, especially romantic
People don’t owe you affection or attention when you do something nice for them
Talk to your Grandma like a peer and be ridiculous with your nieces and nephews
Allow yourself to feel your feels

All legit, y’all.
Don’t let your feels control you
You’re responsible for your own feelings, but be aware of how you are prone to feel after spending time with any person
Spend time with people who make you feel good
You can forgive people but still protect yourself from bad characters
Most people are schmucky schmuckersons
Celebrate and hold onto the people that aren’t schmucky schmuckersons

Me holding onto someone great
People who bring exciting drama into your life are also likely to bring a bunch of hurt into your life.
Go to the arts for your dramatic fix
Finding things to laugh at is serious business
The expensive car is *not* worth it
Eating more expensive healthy food *is* worth it
Neglecting your health is not financial prudence– it’s a great strategy to make all your borderline acute health issues full blown chronic health issues
Try to find joy in challenges instead of focusing on the stress
Stop feeling sorry for yourself
You can be mature and intelligent and still wildly silly
It’s not necessary or wise to trust everyone in a Christian community
Allow yourself to dwell on and obsess about how beautiful something is
Weighted blankets are heavenly
Actual image of my mind when under a weighted blanket
It’s worth the AC cost to turn down the temp enough to not sweat at night
Allow yourself to consider you are wrong about everything
Don’t let uncertainty paralyze you
You don’t have to listen to everyone’s advice, even if they’re great people
Try
God is bigger and more confusing than you ever imagined

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

*By “just around” I mean in like 2 months. But that’s none of your business!

**Although if a Trader Joe’s kosher dill pickle was after me, I would say “take me now” and swoon at its delicious foot.

Love or treat (yoself)?

There are several Oprah-esque sayings that are floating around —

“You have to take care of number one before you can take care of anyone else!”

“Treat yoself!”

“If you don’t love yourself you can’t love anyone else.”

–For the sake of conciseness, I’m going to use Treat Yoself to encapsulate all of these self-affirming ideologies–

Part of me thinks this inspirational folk wisdomry in Treat Yoself is a bucket of rat poo. My main problem with the self-love bonanza is related to the context in which these statements are uttered, more than the actual statements themselves. Usually they are said to encourage people to be selfish or indulgent. I can only speak for myself, but I do not know anyone who is so caught up in being selfless and sacrificial that they somehow neglect themselves.* I would argue that most people need to hear “Sure take care of yourself, but why doncha try caring for others,” or “Treat (people less fortunate than) yoself!” or “Try to love… or at least consider the feelings and wants of… someone besides yourself.”

My second sub-issue with the Treat Yoself mentality is that treating yourself in terms of indulgence isn’t really a treat for you in the long run. Most people want to have nice bodies that function well, but if they continuously “treat themselves” with McDonald’s fries and Starbucks frapaccinos and refuse to move their body in any way that gives it strength, speed, or flexibility, their bodies will soon become… something that doesn’t spark joy. Most people want to have the treat of traveling the world, but if they continuously live above their means and treat themselves with expensive food, entertainment, cars, etc. in the domestic realm, poofity goes the treat of travel.

My third and final irritation with Treat Yoself is a little more specific to Christians, although I don’t think you necessarily have to ascribe to the apostle’s creed to get something out of this. Jesus did not prance about ancient Israel proclaiming a new covenant of self-love. If anything, the level of self-sacrifice he and many of his disciples demonstrated is plum terrifying. Remember Luke 9- “foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man [Jesus] has nowhere to lay His head.” Or Luke 17 “Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it.” Or how about the sobering Mathew 10 warning “Beware of men, for they will deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues, and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them…” And these are only what Jesus said, but when you consider what he did…! I have serious doubts that Jesus was contemplating a bubble bath and wine in the Garden of Gethsemane, and there is nothing less Treat Yoself in all of history than a man dying for people who hated and misunderstood him.

So, my beef with Treat Yoself is that 1) it doesn’t seem necessary, given the deep self-indulgence and entitlement that most of us already have and 2) temporary treats often undermine long-term treats (which may or may not be more wholesome in nature because involve dreaming, scheming, and the real longings of your heart–not simply the capricious whims of your body and immediate longings) and 3) it doesn’t seem particularly “on message” with people who are presumably interested in modeling the radically sacrificial nature of Jesus.

Yet! Part of me sees some truth glimmering through all that rat poo.

The major reason I haven’t completely dismissed Treat Yoself is largely related to mental health and margin**. Let’s take even a light example – being stressed out. When I am stressed, I don’t “see” other people or take particular interest in their needs. I am thinking of whatever is stressing me out, and how to make myself feel better during the stressful time. That means I refuse to think about hard or important questions, and dissipation becomes my goal. I avoid people who are also stressed out because their stresses suck my mind further into a cesspool of anxiety. How can I be a rock for someone when I’m crumbling? Instead of having interesting and joyful conversations with my friends and family, I hijack quality time by dumping my stress on whichever poor soul was unfortunate enough to spend time with me.

Thus, if spending time in nature, enjoying beautiful and lovely things, getting my toes painted happy colors, and reading lighthearted fiction can help reduce my stress to the point I can stop my navel-gazing long enough to look at other people… is that an indirect way to love others? I think it could be.

Where does that leave us, then? I think the key might be to Love Yoself, not Treat Yoself. Treating indicates indulgence. Love indicates more wholistic well-being. Think about a parent loving their child. Spoiling the child isn’t really love – spoiling a child is more indicative that the parent is too lazy to properly discipline, or too insecure to handle their child getting angry at them for rules that are meant to protect them. I think being an adult is learning how to parent yourself properly – love yourself, not spoil yourself. Be willing to deny your childish impulses so that you can be the person you actually want to be — and who the people around you need you to be.

The world needs adults, not petulant children. So Love Yoself 😊

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

*I do know some martyrs who make a big to-do of how they are ruining their lives for the sake of others… I do not consider that actual selflessness. It’s a twisted form of pride.

**Double points for sneaking in a Christian buzz word! BAM!

A song for the barely-sinner

I grew up in church. My family wasn’t just half-bootied Sunday morning service people, either. We did Sunday school AND Sunday night AND Wednesday night church, too ! #holy I’m glad we did, for many reasons. Most of my best friends growing up were from church. We knew everyone. People actually noticed when we went on vacation. There were several members – especially some older couples – who I know genuinely loved me and my family. Why else would Mr. Moreland always offer me a piece of red hot gum with a twinkle in his eye, or Mrs. Daugherty give me the bestest warm squishy hugs?

There were a few downsides to being raised in a fairly idyllic environment surrounded by amazing people. One of them was having a really hard time recognizing the weight of God’s grace. I remember having a true crisis when I was about 8, confessing to my mom with sincere guilt, “But I really can’t think of anyway that I’ve sinned!”*

Even now, having been through some shtuffs that definitelyyyy involved some less-than-spiritual-perfection, I have a really hard time not falling into a weird sort of good-girl legalism. This shows up the most when something I want is delayed or denied, while someone I have unconcsciously deigned more sinful than me** does get that thing. Absolutely infuriates me. I have to read Prodigal God by Tim Keller to get me to wind down. #thankyoutim

This entire ramble was inspired by this song I heard today, which is so entirely perfect for my type of barely-sinner*** heart that I must share.. I MUST !! Sometimes a gallo needs art – in this specific case, musicals – to express for her what she didn’t even know she wanted to express.

(Strongly recommend just listening)

Not in me by Eric Schumacher and David L. Ward

No list of sins I have not done,
No list of virtues I pursue,
No list of those I am not like
Can earn myself a place with You.
O God, be merciful to me–
I am a sinner through and through!
My only hope of righteousness
Is not in me, but only You.

No humble dress, no fervent prayer,
No lifted hands, no tearful song,
No recitation of the truth
Can justify a single wrong.
My righteousness is Jesus’ life,
My debt was paid by Jesus’ death,
My weary load was borne by Him
And He alone can give me rest.

No separation from the world,
No work I do, no gift I give
Can cleanse my conscience, cleanse my hands;
I cannot cause my soul to live.
But Jesus died and rose again–
The power of death is overthrown!
My God is merciful to me
And merciful in Christ alone.

My righteousness is Jesus’ life,
My debt was paid by Jesus’ death,
My weary load was borne by Him
And He alone can give me rest.

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

* THAT is no longer a problem…

**it’s okay if you lowkey or highkey hate me for this post. Keeping it real y’all

*** I say this tongue and cheekily!

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=2344650292478954&id=1823957401214915

For the love of Chick Fil A, please no more Christian dating books

I C A N N O T T A K E A N Y M O R E C H R I S T I A N B O O K S A B O U T D A T I N G.

upsetgirl — It’s too much y’all. (pixabay image, edited by moi) Also note that I didn’t include the Meaning of Marriage by Tim Keller because that book is FIRE

Is it because my heart is hardened?

Is it because I’m living in sin and want to avoid conviction?

Is it because I am resistant to wisdom?

No. It is for this simple reason — in no other area of Christian life have I seen Christian wisdom take such a phariseeical turn so quickly.

The authors are not necessarily to blame for this, but I think this is what happens — a Christian man/woman/couple figures out a way to date that seems in-line with the Christian faith. They then share their insights and wisdom from their own personal experiences. Christians read these books, and instead of seeing them for what they are – musings by good but still-being-sanctified people – they see them as RULES that we all must follow, lest we be pegged as pagos. #pagopegged #ouch

But let’s all take a step back and get a little perspective — in biblio times, dating didn’t exist. You were a child, then boom you go through puberty, then boom you are married. This doesn’t mean that the Christian faith is irrelevant to how we date, but it does mean that pretty much any *specific* dating advice is just that – advice from humans – not the Word of God.

So let’s not perpetuate self-righteousness and phariseeism by acting as if the compilation of some Christian dude’s musings on dating is The Way the Truth and the Life. There is probably wisdom in many Christian books on dating, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that if you don’t follow that author’s recommendations you are rebelling against the God of the universe. For example – In Single, Dating, Engaged, Married,* Ben Stuart talks about how he would always tell his now-wife Donna the next time he was going to contact her. He saw this as a sweet way to reduce her stress – she didn’t have to worry about if / when he was going to contact her, she already knew – “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I agree, that is sweet. Does that mean that if a guy doesn’t communicate like that to you, you should kick him to the curb? No! It’s a nice specific example of how Christian faith can play out IRL, but it is by no means a rule.

Side note 1 – many dating books are probably somewhat useful for high-schoolers who are still living with their parents, and truly have zero life experience to help them navigate dating with wisdom. But there are some dating practices that are absurd if not impossible when you are living on your own (e.g. the dude asking the Dad’s permission to date). So let’s recognize that not ALL Christians get married when they are 19, and what worked for a man dating his wife in undergrad may not be useful for a 29 year old woman.

Side note 2 – I’m also getting cranky with Christian women who assume they are entitled to impart their sage dating advice. I don’t owe it to you to spill all the beans of my romantic life just because we are both Christians, and frankly many of you haven’t earned the right to tell me what to do or hear the intimate details of my life and heart. If you are concerned about my dating choices, how ’bout you pray for the Spirit to convict me directly instead of appointing yourself as my accountability supervisor. I suggest with all the gentle love I can muster that you are just as likely to turn me into an anxious self-righteous snoot pants than to protect me from harm. Just sayin’. As the modern sage John Crist would say, “check your heart.”

I plan to approach dating with the freedom Christ gained for me, as captured by the idea “Everything is permissible, not everything is beneficial.”** Earlier this year I demoralized a dating decision and thought “I can date this person if I want. We could have wild sex every night and guess what.. I would still be a Christian. Jesus might be grieved, but he would still love me. Now, knowing this, do I want to? What would be the consequences?” And that actually led me to a healthy decision that was MY decision, not a half-hearted, dutiful response to the pressures of others.

Okay.. that’s all! Be free!

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

*At least he talked about this in his Single | Dating | Engaged | Married sermons when he was preaching at Breakaway. I actually never read his book because I heard it was basically the written version of his sermons. 😀

**1 Corinthians 10:23