Hit the Floor

Bear with my childish enthusiasm, and these two correspondingly simple sentences: sometimes, life is overwhelmingly fun. There are so many cool things to learn while we're here. 

To think -- we will never  come to the end of knowledge, nor reach the limits of talent!

That's my verbose way of introducing the story of a girl who was a dancer in another life. Who's the girl? Well, me, of course. Silly [dear] reader!

I like, and have honed my talents in, a few creative endeavors; namely, singing, writing and sketching. Over the years, though, I've discovered how much I want to dance. I harbor that desire, along with all my other silly fantasies, in my head, and have ever since I was a dancer in high school musical theater. 

I've dreamt of mastering

- First, ballet,

- Later, Irish step dancing,

- And lately,  hip-hop.

Don't laugh! (Hehe...)

I keep having dreams that involve my getting into an exclusive group by proving I'm a good dancer (remember my post about the "party boat?"). It's weird. My fellow professional writing student Jelani ribs me about the dreams, though I insist I can't hip-hop dance. As a joke, he sent me a video with a five-minute-long dance sequence that made my head spin. He demanded I learn it. I fired up the video to hear that catchy, pulsing beat underscoring the words "clap your hands to the beat this instant!" Right.

Anyhow, I decided to learn some basic moves as a joke. I found some instructional videos on--where else?--youtube. Two days later, I'm still watching the videos, and have spent the last hour seeing if I can pull off the moves in front of a mirror. I don't mind making a fool of myself when my reflection's the only audience, after all!

Contrary to what you might believe, I'm not keeping at it just because I'm perfectionistic and stubborn (both of which I'm working on). I simply love it. Dancing is just too fun. It wouldn't have been realistic for me to cram lessons into my already-hectic middle and high school schedule. 

Perhaps I'm slowly getting it out of my system. Until then, my poor reflection is going to have to endure yet another episode of "Jaimie Krycho Tries to Learn Hip-Hop Dancing." 

It's a comedy, by the way.

Contemplations of a Young Wife, Twelfth Part

A Song of Sentiments to My Husband 
About the Difficulties of Honesty and Openness.


My love, you look me in the eye,
And I have to tear my eyes away.
Today, my mouth's an iron fist,
Clenched hard, so my heart cannot escape.
Well, maybe. Maybe...

Tomorrow, I'll let you see the steps
I dance in secret.
Tomorrow, I'll let you break the code
Of what I'm weeping.
Tomorrow, I'll be one day more like Christ,
Who teaches me how truly to be true --

This time, I'd rather run and hide
Under the shelter known as surface truth.
Today, you saw, at least, my mind
One step away from how you wanted to.
But maybe, maybe...

Tomorrow, I'll endure the pain of pulling
Out the arrow.
Tomorrow, I'll let you dig right beside me
In the refuse.
Tomorrow, I will claim another day
With Jesus, who alone can make me true --

Tomorrow, I'll tell you.

You who are one flesh with me,
I'll unlock my mind,
And if you will help me, we'll
Draw out the soul inside.
Then, when all those earthly shadows are laid bare,
We will hear the Spirit speak
The truth about what's true.

Father, Father

Father, Father, help me Father

Never have I known a man

Who could take me as his daughter

Wrap my failures in his plan

Who could see such holy beauty

In a street child beat and worn

Who could call me his Creation

When the threads of hope are torn.

Father, Father, help me Father

My songs ask to see your face

My songs sing about your goodness

My songs praise your gift of grace

They are words when death draws nearer

They are words when hope’s shot through

They are words when I can’t hear

And ask “why?” is all I can do.

Father, Father, help me Father

I want to sleep for days or years

Is it true you have a bottle

Filled with my frenetic tears?

Is it true you love me strongly

Even though my love is small?

Is it true you’ll read this verse

And it won’t change your love at all?

Everything is an Innuendo

I'm telling you, you can't say anything but it means something else! This is something I've observed over the past five years, and just now feel the need to express.

So many weird-sounding words or phrases have been taken and perverted into something they didn't used to be or mean. It's always slightly embarrassing when the innocent (or some would say naive) people--like me--say or hear something that everyone within earshot shies away at except for them. They say, instead, "I don't even know what you're talking about! What is that supposed to mean?" Inevitably, someone explains. Eventually, anyway.

I continue my education in American slang with no small amount of puzzlement or distaste.

P.S. There is a fly in here. Fun fact: a good way to kill flies is to slowly fan the air with your hand in the direction of the fly so it will become accustomed to the currents. Then, after fanning above/beside it a few times, just come down all the way--SMACK! It's wonderfully fulfilling.

The Krychocosm - Episode V: Mr. Darcy

Chris and Me, Avril and Me

Hi, everyone.

I've been sliiiightly out of commission this last week. I didn't make a Krychocosm, for one, but I think that's pretty excusable, considering the fact that Chris and I were out of town for our friends David and Bethany's wedding from Friday to Sunday, and Sunday was our first anniversary. We got all gussied up fancy-shmancy went to Cheesecake Factory.

Photo courtesy eataroundokc.com

Then, we stayed at the gorgeous Skirvin-Hilton hotel in OKC!

Photo courtesy www1.hilton.com

Also, there are pretty flowers sitting on my coffee table.

Isn't that awesome? God is good.

In the car yesterday, Chris and I were listening to Avril Lavigne's Let Go.  Great memories. I am unashamed that that CD is still one of my favorites -- not only does Avril have a beautiful voice, I identify (and did in the past) with many of her songs.

My mentioning this sparked an interesting conversation, in which I tried to explain why I -- very normal (well...), very girlish and very peppy -- felt so in touch with very punk, very edgy and very angst-y Avril. In fact, since Let Go came out,  my heart has hurt for her many times as I listened to the sad stories contained in her songs.

Chris listened to the lyrics of "Anything But Ordinary" and said, "Okay, I can see why you identify with her, in some good ways and bad ways." For example: A good way is that, as the song says, "I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please." A bad way is my unhealthy restlessness and discontent, reflected in the lyrics, "Is it enough to love? Is it enough to breathe?" And later, "[I'll do] anything to make me feel alive."

I mused that I wasn't sure someone like Avril and I would be friends if we actually knew one another. Then, the thought hit me (hear me out on it): There are really only a few types of people in the world.

I think we all have our categories of pain and insecurity that overlap with a larger chunk of humanity than we can fully comprehend. At the same time we're utterly unique, we're also so very similar. Isn't that crazy?

P.S. More not-so-happy mail. Got a manuscript back today that I've sent in twice (graciously, the editor let me make corrections and try again the first time). Once again, she made edits and said to fix it up and send it back to her. Meh. Let's try this dance again...

Why People Scare Me

By now, you've probably picked up that I just love people! And because there's a flip side to every coin, that can be both a good and bad thing. You're astute enough to know the good reasons; among the bad reasons is the fact I put way too much stock in what people think of me. I feel like I fly by the seat of my pants in friendships because I'm always acting on assumptions of how I'm making the people feel.


Which brings me to the point: I don't give the most dependable, trustworthy people in my life enough credit, because it's so difficult for me to trust.


It may appall you to know that I receive compliments with more skepticism than I care to admit. Over the years, I've lived in fear that people are merely covering over their dislike for me--a dislike that will come back to bite me later.


Do they think I'm being a bad friend? Will she be mad at me because we didn't go to coffee this week? Should I have talked on the phone with her an hour longer? These questions constantly run through my head, so even when sincere love is staring me in the face, I often don't recognize it as such.

I have more encouraging people in my life than I ever could've hoped for. It's frustrating when I find myself doubting, even spurning, my friends' uplifting remarks because I'd rather disbelieve them now than be disenchanted later when I find out they don't like me that much after all. All this because my distrust springs from somewhere deeper: I don't trust the Lord when he says that I am lovable and worth loving.

"Perfect love casts out fear." Every day, I am more sanctified in this, like everything else, than I was yesterday. I look forward to seeing my relationships mutually flourish on a foundation of unity and fellowship instead of fear.

P.S. How is it that there are no "fear" or "trust" tags in my tag cloud at this point? That thing is getting humongous! There has to be some overlap here! Until then, I'll just keep throwing in new words...

The Krychocosm - Episode IV: Remembering

The Biggest Mistake

Looking back, one of the biggest mistakes I made in my life was trying not to make any mistakes.

---

Episode IV of the Krychocosm coming soon.

The Current State of Things

Dear reader,

I'm overdue for a general life update, so here goes.

Chris and I are doing well, all things considered. We enjoyed having Chelsea live with us for a time (she's not anymore).  We often see our friends in the newly/nearly-marrieds Bible study, who have been an incomparable blessing to me. Unfortunately, in other relational news, my dear friend Nicole moved to Wisconsin two weeks ago. She's one of my favorite people to laugh with. And, as you know, we still constantly miss PJ and Katie in Forth Worth, Texas.

Speaking of Texas, Chris and I went to the Gaylord Texan hotel two weeks ago for a Family Life marriage conference. We had a wonderful, restful weekend! Having a focused time to discuss important, often-overlooked details of our marriage was refreshingly...romantic.

Speaking of marriage, Chris and my first anniversary is in 10 days! Hard to believe!

I'm looking forward to traveling to the Focus on the Family Institute reunion in August. Chris, a native Colorado Springs man, attended the institute a few summers ago and frequently mentions how much he liked the people he met there. Now I get to meet them, too!

Current Norman weather: it is raining prettily.

This summer is moving quickly! For anyone who doesn't know, I'm neither taking classes nor working this summer--the idea is that, after a semester of pretty bad depression, a summer off will give me time to rest both physically and emotionally, as well as work through some things in my heart that I avoided during the school year for fear of becoming more overwhelmed.

That said, I've had a lot of time for art. Chris helped me with the first outline for the novel I will write for class next semester, and that was some of the most colorful writing fun I've had since I switched from journalism (and sociology, if you want to count that brief stint) to professional writing! My main characters are in place, and I drew up the quintessential map of fantastical locations with outlandish, Tolkienesque names.  Also,  I already planned out the romance. There has to be a good romantic plot thread, you know!

The next steps are matters of fleshing out the plot, history, magic system, etc. I'm trying not to sell myself short with this story--I have a tendency to write down, if you will, in order to condense my ideas into a bare-essentials short story. That was a great tactic for short story class, but now it's novel, baby!  I can comment on life, individuals and society all I want this time! :)

If you've looked at my facebook, you might have seen that I've taken up sketching again. What a joy! There is something amazing about starting with blank paper, a pencil in your hand and an image in your head, then seeing that image slowly form into a picture. It's like turning your brain inside-out so other people can see the inside.

Another summer activity I love is volunteering at the Eden Clinic, a crisis pregnancy center. God laid the hurting women that go there on my heart after a string of random events. Though I'm doing simple clerical work--answering the phone, data entry and the like--I feel blessed to be a part of a ministry so throughly founded and dependent on the gospel. The volunteers there, especially Alison and Gayla, exemplify godly womanhood to me every week, and have been a consistent source of joy and encouragement.

That's about all! Oh, yeah--Chris and I are having Kessau (my Nepalese friend, if you recall), his wife and another couple over for dinner. Please be praying for us as we seek to be neighbors that shine as lights in the world. Thanks!

Another Plant to Hack

Discouragement is a fast-working poison. For one, it doesn’t take much to get discouraged, especially if you’re unsure of your ambition in the first place. All it takes is a small situation—a day that didn’t turn out quite as planned—and the process begins. The foiled plans may instill a sense of failure or futility in your mind, a seed that can be pushed aside before your mental processes pour any more water onto it. It doesn’t stop there, though. For instance, later in the day, you get another one of your short stories in the mail, rejected. It was a story you particularly poured your heart as well as hours of time into and daydreamed about seeing accepted and published. Now, you just feel like a little girl aspiring to become a princess—as time goes on, you realize that things just aren’t that simple or peachy or viable. That second letdown draws out the same seed you started with, except you don’t have to think about re-planting it—you know where it goes. You use your conscious brainpower to water the seed, instead. There. It grows.

It becomes a vine that hurts and chokes. You try to tear it from your neck as it tightens its hold. Finally, in one fell swoop, you take up an axe and slice the thing in half. It uncurls from your neck and you gasp for breath.

It must be uprooted, no trace left. What if it grows there again? I don’t have to let it, you realize. Taking a new plant--sometimes hope, sometimes encouragement, sometimes humor--you place it in the hole where the discouragement broke ground. It’s ground that is good for growing in general, so you always run the risk that the vine will return and re-grow, but until then, you keep planting the good stuff and tending it assiduously. 

God is Not Like Peanut Bread

My sister Annie and I used to record ourselves singing everything from "Just Around the Riverbend" to "God of Wonders" on those small, rectangular double-spools of tape called cassettes.


You may recall them.

Photo courtesy of copycatsmedia.files.wordpress.com

Anyhow, a snatch of one of those songs popped into my head today, out of nowhere:


Yesterday, in Bible times, when they sat down to eat
They had peanut bread and matza, and the honey was so sweeeeet.


But today, in modern times, we have hamburgers and fries
We have pepperoni pizzas, we have strawberry pie-ieeeeees!
Only God know what tomorrow will bring!


Oh, yesterday, today and tomorrow
Everything around us seems to change
But as we turn back the pages, and look through the ages
We see the love of God has always been the same.
---
Chew on that. No pun intended.

You Should Know...

Announcement to the world: a friend getting married does not mean that friend will suddenly become too "mature" for you, drop their entire fun-loving personality and dive head-first into the proverbial "real world," going through the remainder of life without a sense of humor, childlikeness and desire for your friendship, leaving you behind in the wilder, more fun league of un-married people, and looking down their nose at you, unable to participate in all the wonderful wonderfulness of life.

*deep breath*

That is all.

Begging Like a Servant

Note for non-Normanites: Tarahumaras is a Mexican restaurant.


Ted at Family Fellowship, talking about a particular denomination:
"They think if you're sinning at the moment you die, you go to hell; if you're doing good, you go to heaven."

John, the teacher: "What if you're in Tarahumaras?"

Man in the back, quietly: "You go to Mexico."

---

Talk about a heart cry. Imagine yourself pressed on all sides by people--and spiritual forces--who hate you to the core. You are falling into despair. You defy them time and time again, because you know they're doing wrong--the world is so far from what it should be! Yet the wicked powers, dead-set on destroying you, only seem to flourish more as time goes on.

Now, imagine you're more eloquent and old-timey-sounding than you actually are. You might pray something like this to the God of justice:

Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he has mercy upon us (Psalm 123:2).

How exactly does a servant look to the hand of his master? Well, he knows his master has power over him and his future, and that with a word, the master can change his circumstances from horrible to wonderful...or vice versa. He approaches the master both in trust and fear--trust, because he doesn't know whether things will turn out good or bad, and fear, because he recognizes his authority and position is absolutely nothing compared to the master's.

The Lord our God is our master. Oh, to look to him with trust and fear like the servants we, as Christ-followers, are! If there is hope for the servant in the story--that is, the possibility of redemption from his bad situation--how much more hope is there for the servants of God, who know that they can trust him and that he is good--slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness!

If you will humor me once again, imagine yourself at the end of a long, hard struggle. Your enemies have been vanquished, and you are standing on the battlefield, looking at what the fight has left behind. The war isn't over--you know. Still, the vision of victory, the approach of peace, reminds you that though the war rages on, your hope is secure. God has promised to win in the end, and he will indeed.

If it had not been the Lord who was on our side when people rose up against us, then they would have swallowed us up alive, when their anger was kindled against us; then the flood would have swept us away, the torrent would have gone over us...Blessed be the Lord, who has not given us as prey to their teeth! We have escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped! Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth (Psalm 124:2-8).

P. S. Happy Independence Day.

The Krychocosm - Episode III: Disney