Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,
gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously
give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.

A Return to Love - Marianne Williamson

*Special thanks to Father Gee for reading this passage during his sermon yesterday. It spoke to me.

Paul Tournier

Everything that is worthwhile in life is scary. Choosing a school, choosing a career, getting married, having kids–all those things are scary. If it is not fearful, it is not worthwhile. 

~Paul Tornier

The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins

As part of my continuing effort to make the best of the “All North Florida Tour” (AKA my 74 mile round-trip commute on days I pick up and drop off the kids), I started listening last week to The Hunger Games on CD in the car. When got to the soccer field on Friday to pick up T, I had two thoughts: (1) I hope they haven’t noticed that I’m here yet so I’ll have a few more minutes to listen to the book, and (2) I’m going to go crazy waiting until Monday to be able to listen again. And, of course, I just spent ten minutes sitting in my car in the driveway, listening to the dog whimpering to be let out, because I really needed to know Katniss’s plan before I turned the book off for the night.

The really amazing thing is, so far I haven’t (a) gotten into a wreck because I was so into the book that I forgot to pay attention to other cars or (b) found myself randomly crossing the Georgia border because I forgot to take my exit 45 miles earlier. Both of these are really surprising.

I’ve listened to a lot of books on CD in the car in the past two-and-a-half years. Many of them have been great books (e.g., The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963 — if you haven’t read this book, you should. It’s hilarious and meaningful. I’ll never think of Yakety Yak in quite the same way again.) But I don’t think I’ve listened to one yet that had me so completely involved in the story. I think about it during the day. I dream about it at night. I nearly drive myself crazy googling “Hunger Games” or “Katniss” or “Peeta Mellark” and then forcing myself not to click on any of the links for fear  I’ll see spoilers. And for someone used to reading whole books in a night, it takes so amazingly long to listen to a 350+ page book. I admit, though I keep being tempted to just go buy the book and get it over with, I know that I’m enjoying more by letting the story play out slowly. I get a chance to actually worry about Katniss, and Peeta, and Rue, instead of just turning the page and plowing through to find out what happens next.

I’m about halfway through the book now. Can Suzanne Collins possibly keep up the tension for another 4 CDs? Will I go nuts waiting a whole week to get to the end of the book? And will the end of Book 1 just make me desperately want to read Catching Fire? We’ll see.

Yes, You Are Getting Shorter

Of course, T seems to be getting taller by the second, and E reminds me on a daily basis that she plans on being bigger than me when she grows up (and she will be–probably by 6 inches), which might have something to do with it too.

diet Coke and, yes, Oreos

All I really wanted was a diet Coke, but all I had was a $20 bill. And naturally, the machine in my building does not provide change for a twenty. So, I took myself over to Chamblin Bookmine and proceeded to spend half an hour or more perusing the juvenile section for fun and change-making. I came away with one copy of Rick Riordan’s The Sea of Monsters (for T to enjoy), one copy of Phillip Pullman’s The Golden Compass* (with a blurb from Lois Lowry—cool!**), and….a $10 bill. For some reason the problem this created didn’t occur to me until I was walking back up the steps to my office. Then it struck me. Aha! The evil machine doesn’t give change for a ten either! (You probably already figured this out.) Because it’s just fun to walk an extra 2 or 3 blocks when it’s 95 degrees outside, I went back the way I came and across to Victoria’s Café where I finally bought my diet Coke and a pack of Oreos (which I didn’t need). And, yes, I could have done this in the first place, spent ten less dollars, walked four less blocks, and used up 30 fewer minutes of my lunch hour. But then I would never have known that Lois Lowry also found the Golden Compass “completely absorbing” and “was sorry it didn’t go on and on.” So, I think it was worth the beads of sweat dribbling down my back right now. Wouldn’t you agree?

* AKA, Northern Lights, for my non-North American readers.
** Of the five or six editions of the Golden Compass on Chamblin’s bookshelf, only one had the Lois Lowry blurb. For those of you who don’t know it, I’m a huge fan of Ms. Lowry’s so this was an especially cool find for me.  

Yes, I know. That’s why they pay us to do it.

Charles Spurgeon

Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.  — Charles Spurgeon

And thanks to this random guy who happened to be posing when I took the picture.

Haven’t you ever wondered about other people’s vacation pictures you are in? I wonder if I look better in their pictures than I do in my own?

I’d post a picture of my family, or the mountains, or the lake,  but, thanks to our continuing camera fail, the only other pictures we have are either on my parents’ camera or my husband’s phone.

– Margaret Cho