Chicken Soup for the Blogaholic’s Soul

In casual conversation, I am likely to mention treatment options for Kate, Bowen, or Jessie, or how the Stone family is doing these days.  What you won’t know, however, is that I don’t actually KNOW these people, at least in the traditional sense.  You see, I follow blogs…lots of them.

Most of my favorite blogs were created in times of tragedy or in response to a medical crisis. I often have to steel myself to click the links, as these posts certainly aren’t mindless reads.  My heart seizes at the news of an agonizing decision to be made and I regularly shed tears over the unfathomable experiences of these families.  They are desperately reaching out for help and support, and I find myself magnetically drawn to them.

Some find my hobby a bit morbid and wonder why I torture myself by actively taking on the pain and grief of strangers.  While the subject matter is indeed difficult, the rewards are many.  First, however, I have to get past being a selfish human.  Just like many children create imaginary friends who have problems – fear of the dark, aggression, etc. – as a safe way to talk about newfound issues, I think reading about the sad and tragic side of life helps me process emotions about my own worst fears.  However, in acknowledging the really hard realities of life, I sometimes develop the “I’m glad it’s them and not me” syndrome.  I have to squelch those thoughts so that I can focus on the people and their needs, and not just the fears their stories evoke.

As a result, I can attest to the tremendous beauty and inspiration that often rises from the ashes of tragedy and helplessness.  I am refreshed by the way in which I can touch and be touched by people’s hearts across so much distance.  The written word is incredibly honest, heartfelt, and the authors are completely transparent.  In a world where the truth is often buried beneath layers of you know what, reading something so raw and heartfelt is meaningful.

When I stop the whirlwind of life to catch up on these families, I feel a renewed sense of faith in humanity.  I admire the strength that resonates from their words and I deeply hope that I would have equal fortitude in their shoes.  As strong as they are, they are also at their most vulnerable, and this allows them to put on paper the thoughts that most people could never speak.  I think this is a strong connection point for me personally given that I’ve always been better at expressing myself in writing than in face-to-face conversations.

Part of that ability is simply dissociating from what the world expects me to be or say, and simply writing what I feel without the risk of immediate and sometimes awkward reactions.  I love real, but being entirely real is usually the exception and not the rule.

Finally, in addition to the gift of inspiration I receive from these blogs, they also provide me the opportunity to give back in a profound way.  I’m not a doctor, so I can’t heal the sick.  I’m not a millionaire, so I can’t offer riches to fund medical treatments.  However, as a woman of faith, I can add my voice to those interceding on behalf of precious families who need guidance, hope, and strength beyond what they can muster on their own.  I believe firmly in the power of prayer and that giving away my heart and prayers, whether to close friends or virtual strangers, simply expands my capacity to do so over and over again.

It’s only fitting that I include information on a few of my favorite blogs, and I encourage you to post a comment with additional links.  There’s nothing like a shared bowl of chicken soup to warm us all up!

http://renziandleeannestone.blogspot.com/ – Oklahoma City couple Lee Anne and Renzi Stone lost their almost one year old son to a sudden epileptic seizure.  They honor little Isaiah by sharing their daily challenges and joys.

http://www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com/ – Angie is the wife of Selah singer Todd Smith.  While expecting, Todd and Angie were told their daughter had many life threatening conditions and would not survive outside the womb.  Her book, “I Will Carry You,” details their experience and utter reliance on God to make it through to the other side.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/mcraekate – Kate McRae is a six-year-old Arizona girl living with a very rare form of brain cancer.  Her mother writes regularly about treatment options, highs and lows, and specific prayer requests.

http://www.carepages.com/carepages/JessicaBoone – Oklahoma teenager Jessie Boone suffered massive head trauma during a ski accident last year.  Her mother chronicles the numerous touch-and-go moments, months in hospitals and Jessie’s current journey.

http://www.kellyskornerblog.com/ – Kelly is an Arkansas gal who began writing when doctors said her newborn wasn’t expected to live.  After a difficult beginning, she now has a healthy and happy daughter and another on the way.  Having also suffered infertility for many years, she is an inspiration to those women desperately hoping for a baby.

http://bowensheart.com/ – Matt Hammett is the lead singer of the Christian band Sanctus Real.  Their son, Bowen, has a severely underdeveloped heart.  They are journaling their experience and sharing the love of God through their words and stories.

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Stories Written in Blood

by Josh Bottomly

Not long ago my wife, Amy, posted a picture of my night stand on her blog.

It was a picture of the books propped up on my stand.

From left to right.

Tim Keller’s The Reason for God.

Abraham Heschel’s God in Search of Man.

C.S. Lewis’s Quotables.

Eugene Petersons translation of the Bible, The Message.

And, N.T. Wright’s Matthew for Everyone.

An anonymous blogger saw this picture and posed this question directly to me (and indirectly to all Christians):

Why do so many Christians just read Christian books?

My first mental response was of course immature, arrogant, condescending, and reactionary:

How dare you try and pigeonhole!  I peruse the Fiction and Literature section at Barnes and Noble more frequently than I do the Spiritual Devotion section.

I have a undergraduate and graduate degree in English literature.

You name a classic or contemporary author, and I’ll bet I have studied him or her.  Shakespeare.  Check.  O’ Connor.  Check.  Camus.  Check.  Kerouac.  Check.

But later, after I had calmed down, I sat down to think a bit about that anonymous person’s question.  It’s an appropriate question, really.  And it was probably not meant to stir up conflict. But conversation.

So after some reflection, this is how I responded to this blogger.

Simply put: I’m interested in reading any story that is written in blood.

Take East of Eden by John Steinbeck, for example. Now that’s a book written in blood. Who of us hasn’t felt an acute sense of displacement? It’s not that we are living in the wrong place; just the wrong way. Or Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.  I’ve got a son now and the thought of dying for Silas – not a iota of fear. But the thought of Silas having to live beyond my dying love – nothing but fear.

Any story then that struggles with what it means to be human, what it means to walk upright in a bent world, what it means to live within tensions and questions and doubts – that’s a story I want to read and participate in because it is written in the author’s blood. Whether it is written by a Christian. Or agnostic. Or atheist. Or Buddhist. Or Muslim.  Because all truth is God’s truth.  And part of the theology of common grace includes the animating belief that when we tell the truth about our experience of being human, regardless of our “worldview” or religious belief system, somehow, in some mysterious way, a “gleam of the evengelium”, as J.R.R. Tolkien argued, shines through.

J.R.R. Tolkein, smoking his famous pipe.

So I pose this contagion of questions for you to ponder – Christian or not:

What books have you read that are written in blood?

What stories have spoken and resonated with your deepest humanity?

What narratives have shaped the way you understand the narrative we live in?

No doubt, I’m always looking for a good read. And by good, I mean a story where the author simply has the courage as Fredrick Buechner puts it,  to “open a vein.”

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RDC Facebook Profile Creativity Giveaway: Winners!

If you head on over to our Red Dirt Chronicles Facebook page, you’ll see a little note announcing the winners of our “most creative profile piccy” contest.  The winner was announced last night and will receive a $50 Lowe’s gift card.  Here’s winner Steve Huhn’s profile photo:

Steve Huhn, "Slappin' da Bass." Steve plays with Gypsy Twang as well as Adam Lopez & the Lo Tops

And, just for fun, our RDC photographer put together her own FB profile photo.  Of course, we couldn’t give her a prize, but we WILL give her a little shout out.  Here’s “Red Dirt Racie (prounced Rassy).”  Love it!

RDC Photographer - "Red Dirt Racie"

We’ve got more promotions coming up soon, so make sure the “like” our Facebook page!

Have a great lunch break,

The Red Dirt Chronicles Team

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Real Men and Picking up the Tab

Men eating dinner while aboard the Atlantic Clipper. (Photo by Bernard Hoffman//Time Life Pictures/Getty Images)

When dining out at a restaurant with another person or group of people, a real man is just as likely to pick up the tab for the people he’s with as he is to graciously accept someone else’s offer to pay. A real man doesn’t argue over who’s going to pay. He either pays for his own meal, pays for both his and the other party’s, or if the other party attempts to pay for his meal, accepts their offer without making a fuss.

There’s no middle ground here.

There’s nothing masculine about arguing with another person over who gets to pick up the check after dining out. It’s like dancing. When it comes time to settle the check, the first person to speak is the one who gets to lead. If you’re the first to speak, then you get to lead. If not, just go where the other party takes you without stepping on their toes.

This really is a finer (and in many ways lost) art of manhood, I think. To continue with the dancing metaphor, it’s the difference between looking like a couple of junior high kids at the 8th grade sweetheart dance and Gene Kelly. The latter pulls it off with grace and style while the former just fumble around the floor trying not to let their hands fall below the predetermined, chaperone-approved line on their partner’s back.

The next time you’re out to dinner with another person, either pick up the tab, pay for your own meal, or graciously let them pay if they offer before you speak. Don’t try to appear chivalrous by going back and forth with them only to fold a few seconds letter with the same end result.

I learned this from my dad who likes to pick up the tab for other people. I’ve seen him pick up the tab over and over again throughout my life and I’ve rarely seen another man accept it without resorting to the obligatory give and take, back and forth debate before letting him actually pay. I’m not sure, but these types of scenarios may even offend my dad. At the very least, whether it offends him or not, the men who dicker back and forth with him about it just end up looking silly… at least in my humble opinion. And yet, on those occasions where I’ve seen other people offer to pay for my dad’s meal, I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed him argue with them. He just rolls with it… usually.

I mean, think about it, what’s at stake here? At most (if you’re at a fancy place like Taco Cabana or some other swanky joint like Sizzler or Jack in the Box) we’re talking $50 to $100 maximum. In the grand scheme of life, being able to pick up a $50 or $100 tab, while generous, is not necessarily some great feat of manhood. In fact, just about any dude with a credit card has the ability to do this at will.

Just as picking up the tab for others doesn’t make a man more masculine, the converse is also true. Letting another man pick up your tab when he asks to does not make you any less of man. It’s not like the man who offers to pay your tab thinks you can’t afford the $50. If he thought you couldn’t afford to pick up your own tab, he wouldn’t have invited you to the Taco Cabana. He would have invited you to Taco Mayo, where even the poorest man can eat like a king.

The man who offers to pick up your tab is doing so out of a spirit of generosity. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in my brief stint as a professional raiser of funds, it’s to let people who want to be generous, BE GENEROUS.

Well… now that I’ve beat this issue to a pulp, I only have one other thing to say in relation to picking up the tab. No matter who pays, NEVER EVER skimp on the tip. There’s nothing that screams, “I am not a real man!” any louder than leaving a lame tip.

15% is the standard so unless your waiter or waitress is just a complete jerk, never leave less than that. In fact, in keeping with the generosity theme, if your service is half-way decent and the person serving you is even half-way friendly, why not leave a 20% tip and make their day?

The next time you dine with someone else and they offer to pay for your meal, all you need to do is respond with a simple and authentic THANK YOU. Instead of putting up the obligatory and, in most cases, contrived fight, just make a mental note of the occasion, enjoy the rest of the meal, and the next time you dine with that person, remember to take the lead and offer to pay for their tab before they have a chance to speak.

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Hitting BOTTOM: Relationship Issues With My “Saddlebags”

I’ll be 48 years old in four weeks, I wear a women’s size 12, my dress shoe size is 7 and I weigh between 149-151 pounds every morning I check the scales.

In other words, I’m middle-aged, wear a middle-sized clothes, mid-range footwear and am in the middle of the 100 and 200 pound mark on the scales.  And, I’ve run out of excuses.  Here are the excuses, reasons or “logical thoughts” I’ve used for the past year to avoid a healthier lifestyle:

  1. I’m busy.
  2. I have a hard time prioritizing between my academic life and my personal life.
  3. The time with my husband and children are more important than exercising.
  4. I’m smaller than some of my friends.
  5. I’m smaller than my husband.
  6. I’m smaller than some of my family members.
  7. If I were really okay with my own self-image then it wouldn’t matter.
  8. I’ll start when I’m done with my Ph.D.
  9. I’ll start tomorrow.
  10. I’ll start on Monday.
  11. If my faith were stronger I wouldn’t be struggling so much.
  12. If I balance out the fat and sugar I’m consuming with all this good home-cooked food, then at least I’m getting the vitamins I need.
  13. My husband, children and family still love me regardless of my physical fitness.
  14. It’s my job’s fault.  It’s my fault.  It’s my genetics’ fault…

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve become a fan of The Pioneer Woman blog.  I’m checking in on Ree and her adventures about two or three times per week now, and she’s no longer coming between me and my husband.  One day she was writing about food and wrote parenthetically, “Lord, help my saddlebags.”

I'm walking around with two of these strapped permanently on my thighs. Click photo to buy one for your horse.

I started thinking about the saddlebag metaphor, referencing her hips as a body part with which she struggles.  That’s how I feel right now.  I feel weighted down from being my normal, energetic self.  I feel like I’m carrying around a load that I can’t unhitch.  So, I did just a few minutes of research and found this link explaining to the trail rider about Horse Saddle Bags: Packing For Success.

The information on their page is crystal clear.  Saddle bags are for packing a work load, but should be removed once the job is done.  They’re not to be worn 24 hours a day.  They also had some extremely deep information I related to myself when considering a saddle-bag purchase:

  1. Horse’s (Kelly’s) size
  2. Horse’s (Kelly’s…you get the picture) conditioning
  3. Horse’s build (conformation)
  4. Horse’s attitude
  5. Horse’s age
  6. Saddle size, fit and weight
  7. Saddle’s ability to distribute weight
  8. Rider’s weight and experience
  9. Saddlebag design and fit
  10. Distance of ride and type of terrain
  11. Weather (esp. heat and humidity)

In other words, you only buy the gear and load up the animal with what they can take, what type of horse it is, and what kind of ride you’re going to make.

I sat there with my permanent, oversized, weighted down saddle bags reading that article and thought: “This is it.”  In my relationship with myself, I have to help myself.  I can’t blame anyone, anything, any time…it’s up to me.

The only time I want to wear saddlebags is when I’m hiking a trail, or when I’m using real ones on a real horse for a real-life trail ride.

This past summer I began a running program and was successful at keeping it up in Oxford until I came back to Oklahoma.  But I can’t blame Oklahoma.  All I can do is realize that the only person who can help this situation is me.

What am I going to do?  One of two things.  I have a former student who now owns a fitness company.  I’m going to call him and explore that option.  I work at a University that emphasizes health all the time.  I’m going to explore that option.  Then I’m going to decide, face my fears, perhaps get rid of a scheduling obligation or two, and get started.  I’m scared, I don’t WANT to do this, but I really want to feel like myself again.

I’ll let you know how it goes ~ Red Dirt Kelly

Also…this is the photo of what’s sitting right in front of me on my desk.  Which do you think I need to find a new home for?

Water? Kisses? Which one needs to find a new home?

Check out the next entry in my “Saddlebags Saga”…that is, if you have the stomach for it!

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Showcasing Red Dirt culture ~ authored and managed by contributors with connections to the great state of Oklahoma.