Vegetable-arian

I get teased quite a bit for being a vegetarian. For some reason people seem to think its funny. I haven't yet been able to work out exactly why, but it seems to be a guaranteed subject for mirth.

Sometimes people just don't get the whole vegetarian thing. They seem to think that you'll eat chicken and fish. You assure them that you do not eat chicken or fish - no flesh at all. So then they think that you may not eat the actual flesh, but you will eat anything that may have been cooked with, in, beside, in the juices of or made from the juices of, the meat. Sometimes all you can do is sigh to yourself, take a deep breath, and start back at the beginning.

Generally nobody can grasp exactly what you eat if you don't eat meat. Well, just as a sort of freak-experience, you eat vegetables. Either people don't like vegetables or they just forget that vegetables can be eaten on their own. Vegetables can be quite nice.

I have heard various jokes about vegetarians and have heard different ways of describing people who are vegetarians, but none, in my opinion, beats one I saw on a kids' movie.

There is this little girl called Madeline, who lives with 11 other girls in a school in Paris, France. It is run by a nun, called Miss Clavel. Madeline has to go to hospital and on the way back to the school, she rides in the back seat of the car, beside a chicken in a cage. She calls the chicken Fred. That evening, as a special celebration for Madeline's return home, they have Chicken Helene. Madeline looks at the meat on her plate and connects it with the chicken in the car. She flatly refuses to eat Fred - people don't eat their friends. One by one all the little girls refuse to eat the chicken. Miss Clavel turns to the next girl down the table and asks her whether or not she is going to eat her supper. "No! I'm a vegetable-arian too!!"

I'm a vegetable-arian too.

Stop For A Minute And Think

As you might have been able to see from my lack of posts recently, I have been really busy. I am, actually, still very busy.

My to-do list goes on and on and so far I can't see the end of it. At times it is totally overwhelming and there have been moments when I have felt that I am drowning under piles of jobs and errands that I simply have to do.

Yesterday afternoon as I was working away, I was listening to a Stephen Curtis Chapman CD. It's a much older one - For The Sake Of The Call, but it has some really good songs on it. There is this one song that has a catchy tune and arresting lyrics. It's called Billy You're A Busy Man and is about this man who runs around doing lots of stuff and keeping so busy that he doesn't have time to stop and think about whether or not he knows God and what is going to happen after he dies. Although it was originally talking about someone who was running away from becoming a Christian by being busy, it made me think.

I'm busy. You're probably busy. What are we actually doing? Why are we doing it? Who are we doing it for? Are we so busy that we aren't stopping and talking to God? Are we so busy that we are forgetting to live for Him? Are we so busy that we can't remember that we started this or that project because we wanted to do it for God?

I'm not saying that being busy is a totally bad thing, but if we are so busy that we have lost sight of God and the reason we are busy, then I think we need to stop and think.

We don't necessarily need to knock anything off our to-do list, but we do need to go through our to-do list item by item and work out why we started doing it in the first place, what our end goal for this project is and who we are really doing it for now. Bring your focus for each project back to God.

Sometimes life gets so busy I run around in ever tightening circles and I get too dizzy to see anything. I need to stop and ask God to help me bring Him back into focus.

God should be the focus and center of all we do, so right now I need to take a few minutes to stop and put Him back in the center, stop and put Him back as the focus of each and every task I have to do.

Swingdance Come Kickdance

I felt like I needed something to laugh at right now, so I thought that I would give you something to laugh about.

I was at a swing dance just kind of messing around. The lights were turned on only in the center of the room and round the edges it was dark and dim - just to give the whole thing a bit of atmosphere.

I wasn't really getting the dancing too well, so taking my sister's arm, we started to walk across the room. Actually, I wasn't exactly walking. I suppose you could call it something more like ... swishing I guess. The music had got into my legs and as I walked I swung my legs out in front of me, kicking them up in the air from the floor to waist height, one after the other.

Headed for a drink of water, I hummed a little tune to myself, shuffle-kicking my way across the floor, through the dark edge of the room to the door. Out went my right foot, kicking in front of me ... and into something hard. What was it?

A figure rose up out of the darkness immediately in front of me, clutching a hand to it's head and rubbing hard.

I don't think that the poor boy ever forgave me for kicking him in the head! It was very dark and how was I to know that he would be lying on the floor in the corner of the room while he was supposed to be dancing? Of course, I still shouldn't have kicked him in the head, but he really should have warned me that he was going to take a nap in the corner!

I've never been to another swing dance, but if I ever go to one again, I will either take a torch with me, or make sure I have some sort of warning system on the tips of my shoes, so that every time my toes come within 5 inches of something solid, it beeps. Not so that I can stop my foot from swinging to its destination, but so that other people can take their heads off the floor.

Paper Airplanes

Paper airplanes. What picture do you get in your brain when you hear those words? Do they stir some memory from when you were a little girl or boy and you flew airplanes in the park? Do they make you frustrated because you could never quite get them to fold correctly?

When I hear the words "Paper Airplanes", I have a picture in my mind of a happy little boy throwing a plane high in the air and shouting out "weeeeeeeeee" as it sores through the air, then throwing his hands up above his head and laughing out loud as it crashes into the couch, then rushing across the room to pick it up and start all over again.

It all started one day when I was a little bored of drawing pictures of pigs and space rockets, so I started making the piece of paper into a paper airplane. He wasn't particularly pleased with this and started squirming on my knee, but once he knew I was making a plane and was reassured that he could fly it, he was all eagerness to have it finished. His small fists pressed here and there, trying to help me fold the plane faster and his head bobbed up and down in front of my face as he tried to see what I was doing.

After we had finished folding the plane and written his name on one wing, he wriggled off my lap and ran into the family room. He had so much fun with that bit of paper! He giggled and ran around the room, almost more pleased when it crashed then when it flew.

That was the first time. After that whenever he was bored, or just wanted me to do something for him it was, "Lizzy! Lizzy! Make me a paper airplane please!!" He would catch onto my hand and jump up and down, dragging me to the table so I could get started on his plane.

I can now make stunt planes and Split Nose Cone Darts and I often make planes out of the bits of paper I gather at church, but the way I will always remember paper airplanes is an excited little boy with shinning eyes who loves throwing them around the room and laughing with delight and begging me to make another one.

A Wave And A Smile

This morning as I was driving through a residential area, I passed a mother and daughter out for a walk.

The little girl can't have been older then about 18 months, had golden wispy hair and such a cute smile! She twisted round in her mother's arms and waved at me as I passed. I smiled and waved back. The little girl gave me a cute grin as her mother waved as well and I drove on round the corner.

Three little waves, a grin and a smile. Small things, but they gave me a happy minute and I think that the little girl had fun too!

There's Something More

When the greyness surrounds me and I feel a mess,
When nothing seems like it was meant to be,
When my feelings are feeling less then less,
And the world seems to hold, no joy for me,

When all is wrong and I've lost the right,
And there seems nothing left to hold on to,
When all is darkness - I can't see the light,
The things worth doing seem very few,

We try and we try to make things right,
To feel and care all that we should,
But no matter how hard, we strive and we fight,
We seem to end, with all bad and no good,

For what is the point of doing and trying,
Why should we try to mend the pain,
When it could all end in heartache and crying,
And at the end of the struggle we'll see no gain,

We've reached the point of trying no more,
No laughing, no running, no wanting to be,
Our hearts are aching and tired and sore,
And giving up now seems the best way to me,

But there's something more beyond the pain,
Something that's greater than what's in me,
Something more than pointless gain,
The will to live and the chance to be!

There's something there beyond what we see,
We've got to keep trying to reach the light,
We've just got to love, to breath, to be,
To live and laugh with all our might,

When all is dark and the going gets tough,
And we get scared - we fret and wonder,
Whether all there is, is just as rough,
We have to remember there's Someone stronger,

There's God in charge of all this mess,
And although to us it seems all wrong,
We could never, ever guess,
That to Him it will be a wondrous song,

So we have to live and laugh and be,
To sing our songs and dream our dreams,
We're the only ones to ever be 'me',
To add our parts to what life means.
Copyright - Lizzy

The Next Grey Moment

It's been a grey kind of day today. The weather has been grey, threatening rain every minute, but I've also been grey inside. All my sunny, bright colors have somehow been merged together into a murky, messy grey.

My alarm went off this morning long before I was ready to wake up. I hadn't got enough sleep and as I slowly surfaced, the grim weather outside slowly but surely crept inside. By the time I was up and dressed the world was looking far from sunny and I was stomping around in quite a mood. Nothing seemed to go right as one thing after another went wrong. I snapped at my sister more times then I care to name and felt like kicking the computer when I checked my e-mail and found that nobody had written to me.

What had happened to a positive attitude and a sunny perspective? To where had the world-changing habits gone? Why could I not seem to get up enough motivation to start changing my attitude and the way the day was going? Why was the day just not going right? Why was God not listening to me?

Now was the time to remember that I could make the day sweeter. Now I could start to smile through my weariness. Now I could start to persevere through the trials. Now I could start to sing despite the rain. Now I could take a grey day and because of my determination to be cheerful through it all, I could turn the day around and make it a day of cheerfulness to everyone around me.

I didn't. I continued to feel grey inside and out. I continued to walk around in a dizzy fog of tiredness. I continued to feel like everything was going wrong. I continued to scowl and ignore any opportunity to smile. I simply didn't have the energy to pick up my feet and dance in the rain. It has been one of those days when it seems impossible to have a better attitude.

I should have had a better attitude - but I didn't. I should have remembered and followed through on all my thoughts about being cheerful despite a grey time - but I just sat at the table and wondered why.

Today is grey and I don't have the energy to wash it clean and bright again. By myself, I can't. Right now all I can do is ask God to get me though the next moment.

I think that God understands that sometimes we are just too tired and grey to be cheerful or positive. One thing I know for sure - He will always get us though the next grey moment.

God-Centered Passion

"Whatever you do, find the God-centered, Christ-exalting, Bible-saturated passion of your life, and find your way to say it and live for it and die for it. And you will make a difference that lasts. You will not waste your life."
John Piper

Changing The World - A Quote

When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can do is change myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.
Unknown

Pride Cometh Before A Fall

Last week I was very busy putting together a power point presentation. I had to make a presentation about poverty, human trafficking, slums, the Persecuted Church and other global issues. I was really excited about it, as it is something that I have already been thinking about quite a bit recently. I set to work with a lot of enthusiasm.

I collected a lot of pictures from the Internet, got my sister to show me some power point basics, found a number of quotes and Bible verses to get people thinking and got to work.

I spent hours - literally hours - working on this presentation. I didn't just want to do a good job, I really wanted it to make an impact on people - to get them thinking about people outside their own country, to get them praying, to get them doing something.

Every spare minute I had I was pouring over the computer, tweaking this picture and that picture, re-arranging the pages, selecting the right font, choosing a background color. I rotated pictures, dragged them in and out of the pages, enlarged them and shrunk them. I spent ages deciding on the order the pictures would come onto the screen and which special effects I would use where.

I finally got it all finished on Friday evening. My eyes were so sore and wouldn't quite focus properly. My mind was boggled and if I had closed my eyes for any length of time, I wouldn't have been surprised if I had seen the pictures jumping around in front of me. It had been hard work - and a huge amount of hard work. It had also got me stressed, worrying about whether or not I would get it finished in time and if I could do a good job.

I decided, however, that all the hard work was worth it. I was genuinely pleased with what I had created. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it - I was seriously impressed with my power point presentation!! I thought that the pictures all went together well and that the special effects helped to add emphasis to the images. The quotes all carried the theme across well and would hopefully people thinking. The font matched the pictures and the idea of making a difference to poverty. Yes, I was really pleased with what I had done and actually couldn't think of any way to improve it. I thankfully don't seem to have these moments of extreme pride too often (not much above once every two weeks anyway) but when they come, I make a really good job of it. I was proud of my presentation and couldn't wait to hear what other people would think of it.

I carefully saved the presentation so it would keep the right font and got it copied onto a CD. I was all set and ready to go. Now I just needed to sit back and rest content in the knowledge that I had done a good job. Actually, I worried about it all weekend.

The day arrived and we had a big rush getting everything ready and set up. The CD loaded alright and the font I wanted was still there in all it's glory. We didn't play any of the presentation then, as we had many other things to get sorted, but the first slide still looked good and someone voiced their approbation. Much to my shame, I basked in the compliment.

Later we played my presentation in the background while some other stuff was going on. I knelt on the floor and had a little look - just to see what it looked like full-size and to check that it came out alright.

Kneeling on the floor was exactly where I stayed for the next few minutes, stunned into absolute silence. Where had my beautiful presentation gone? What had happened to the amazing way it had all fitted together? To where had the rhythm and flow and perfect sequences all flown? I felt like I was watching a hastily and badly-put-together slide-show of a third-rate quality. All the pictures which I had carefully arranged at angles has been put straight; pictures that were meant to come onto the screen one by one with a little gap between each one, now sprang on altogether and were immediately covered up by another picture. Previously pictures had come spinning in from a distance, dissolved onto the screen, appeared block by block from corner to corner or swept up from the bottom of the screen. Now they were just plunked onto the screen in any old place and just sat there looking at me mockingly and covering each other up with fine disregard of an artistically pleasing appearance. My 7-minute masterpiece had been reduced to a 2-minute horror. My pride had been reduced to a little heap of ashes on the floor.

I still don't know what happened to make the presentation get all messed up, but I do know that my pride took a long jump off a 700-story building and came crashing down to the sidewalk with the biggest bump I can remember in a long time. Hardly anybody actually looked at the screen, but those who did probably didn't look twice. Everyone knew who had done it and I was thoroughly humiliated.

I don't know if I'll ever have the heart to do another power point presentation, but if anyone ever takes the risk of asking me to do one again, then I will take less time over getting it 'just right' and won't be half so proud about the finished product.

Now the question is, can you be proud of your humility?

Just For Fun ...

Just for fun, to give myself a laugh, I went along to this website that gives you your very own 'Peculiar Aristocratic Title'.

You type in your name and it gives you a title - just like that. I did it a number of times, waiting until I got one that I really liked or suited me well. I had done it about eight times before it came up with the perfect title.

Ahem! Introducing (drum roll please!!) ...

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Baroness Lizzy the Talkative of Mellow under Trollness Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Like I said - perfect!!

Don't Do Nothing

We pass homeless person in the city, pushing an old shopping cart filled with all his worldly goods. His eyes are vacant and he shuffles listlessly along the sidewalk. He doesn't have anywhere to go and who knows if he will have anything for dinner. His home is on a park bench, or maybe the doorway of a store. We walk past on the other side of the street, trying not to stare at his dirty clothes and long, matted hair.

We turn away, trying not to look, and return to our cozy homes, filled with lovely possessions. There we can forget that some people don't have homes.

We get a missions magazine through the mail. On the front cover is a picture of a little girl. She has straggly black hair falling over a dirty face and she sucks one thumb as she leans round the doorway of her corrugated-iron and cardboard shanty. Her top is too big and has a hole in it and her skirt is far too short. She wouldn't even know what to do with a pair of shoes. The shelter made out of trash, which is the only home she's ever known, is falling to pieces and is surround by old rusty cycles and mounds of garbage.

We put the magazine away before rushing out the door to visit a friend. We talk about the new shoes we bought last week and the church pot-luck dinner coming up on Sunday. There we can forget that some people don't have shoes to wear and take their pickings from the city garbage dump.

Pictures in a magazine, on a notice-board, on our city streets and on our websites are so easy to walk away from and forget. It makes us feel uncomfortable, so we push it to the back of our mind.

Maybe we spend a few minutes of compassion, wishing we could do something to help ... just something. But there are so many people out there who need help and we can't do it all. We get discouraged. Life is busy and in the rush of doing other things, we forget.

Don't let what you cannot do, stop you doing what you can do.

Anything is better then nothing. We can't help the whole of mankind. We can't feed every person who's hungry. We can't house every person who's homeless. We can sponsor a child in Brazil so she can have clothing, schooling and food. We can collect a coke-can of dollars and send them to a mission organization. We can tell other people about an organization that needs support. We can pray for the hobo on the street.

Even if we can't do anything else, we can pray.

If you think you're too small to do anything, you've never slept with a mosquito.

Don't just walk away and forget - do something. Anything. Whatever you do, don't do nothing.

A Bouncy-Granny-Wanna-Be

So many people say that wanting to change the world is something that teenagers want to do - once you get past the teen black-or-white stage, your enthusiasm, determination and motivation will quickly fade and ebb away into a grown-up mediocre attitude to just about everything.

I intend to prove them all wrong. In fact, I already have. I haven't been a teenager for a while now, but you know something? I'm still all out for changing the world, I still get majorly enthusiastic about so many, many thing and I am determined to make a difference and get things done. Admittedly my ideas on these various things have changed and the way I go about my world-changing is slightly different then it used to be - but I'm still doing it and I;m still getting excited about life.

When I'm 80, I still want to be hopping up and down with excitement when I have a fantastic idea; I still want my eyes to glow and my face to shine when I hear of some amazing project; I still want to get butterflies in my stomach the evening before my birthday. When I'm 80, I still want to be just as determined to change the world and I still want to be enthusiastic about what everyone is doing and something new that is about to happen.

When I'm 80. Along the way, I'm going to carry on being an enthusiastic world-changer.