Goodbye people-pleasing, hello healthy!

I don't have a new year's resolution, but this year I do want to learn to think in terms of what's good for me. I'm not talking about being self-centered, but about not being a people-pleaser. It's a problem for me, and I need to learn how to balance doing good for others with taking care of myself. I must admit, it feels pretty empowering to make a choice based on what's physically and emotionally healthy!

4 real things I’ve done recently that made me feel powerful:

1. Not inviting people I don’t like to my wedding.

There’s this teacher I worked with for the past two years who drove me crazy. She’s the kind of person who always looks like a model for the cover of "Kindergarten Teacher Magazine," and can give you a compliment that actually makes you feel worse, not better. Somehow things just always manage to go her way, no matter how badly it screws up someone else's tight schedule. She's what I call a "workplace diva bully." I have no hard feelings toward her, but I'm not upset about the fact that I no longer work with her class. And because I no longer consider her a co-worker, and she was never a friend, I don't feel obligated to put her on the list of co-workers/friends with whom I'd like to share my special day. It's that simple.

2. Wearing earrings to a legalistic church.

We love our church. It’s a 5-year-old church plant in a poverty-stricken neighborhood. People come to church in whatever clothes they have -- yes, even pants on women! Some even have earrings! *gasp* For the first time in my life, the question of what to wear on Sunday morning doesn’t stress me out. If it matches and doesn’t stink, it’s good, because we just want to see people worshiping and feeling welcome in God's house. But then there’s this other church in town that we frequented when we first met because, frankly, it’s a cheap date and a great place to show off your new arm candy. It’s a big church with a lot of decent people, but we don’t particularly like going there because the atmosphere is just a little legalistic. Too many rules. But since we’re getting married and need to give invitations to people we’d likely run into at that church, we decided to show up last Sunday night. Cue mass wardrobe panic. His shirt collar has a smudge! I haven’t done laundry in over a week! My skirt hem is wrinkled! Does this even match? My knees are showing! Then there was a little discourse about how this should not be such a problem and how we always feel like the congregation is inspecting our wardrobe. Seriously, there’s a sign at the door: “Entrance with decent attire only.” So naturally we smoothed our hems and dabbed our collars and ran out the door. But as a tiny sign of protest against ridiculous social norms in the church, I wore earrings. Bam!

3. Dress-shopping with my groom.

I know, it's horrible bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress. But I'm gonna be honest here, I have very picky taste in clothes. I like to feel good in what I'm wearing, and I want my clothes to reflect my personality. I don't know a single girl here who shares my taste or knows what I want to look and feel like on my wedding day. My groom, on the other hand, has excellent taste and knows what I like even better than I do sometimes. His opinion means more to me than anyone else's. He knows how to handle me when I'm stressed, and buying a wedding dress is very stressful. He also has a car, and the wedding dress stores are an hour away. So despite the shocks and screeches from many girls who couldn't believe I would go with him, it seemed like the most obvious choice to me. Whatever.

4. Eating an orange and a granola bar when I really wanted an apple turnover.

This has nothing to do with being a people-pleaser, but it was a healthy choice, so I'm including it, anyway. My future mother-in-law makes these irresistable little finger cakes, and I ate a few too many over the Christmas break. Now that the holidays are over, I’m trying to get back on track. This means making a lot of tough choices for a sweets-lover like myself. Yesterday I got hungry while I was in town, and my first thought was the delicious apple turnovers downtown for 2.50 Lei (less than a dollar). But then I thought of my waist and my wedding dress, so I headed to the fruit stand instead. I got 4 mandarins and a granola bar for the same money and half the calories. I should add that I only ate one mandarin, not all four. Go me!

I'm can't say for sure how long it will last, but so far, I'm really enjoying this new-found courage to do what makes for the happiest, healthiest Becky in 2015. Try it and see for yourself!

oh, HEY! My name is behind that title!

This may not be what I consider my best work, but apparently somebody liked it, so I'm pleased to share. Find my creative non-fiction this month in Deep South Magazine, an online publication dedicated to all things southern.

http://deepsouthmag.com/2012/09/home-2/

fresh, fresh, fresh!

I'm in Romania these days and someone keeps giving us tomatoes. I really don't even like tomatoes unless they're cooked into something and well-disguised, but apparently someone thinks my roommate and I can eat dozens of fresh tomatoes... And then today she walks in with part of a pig that someone butchered today. To be more specific, she walked in eating pigskin, which I quickly recognized as such and refused to taste. Then she presented two beautiful pork chops, just hours after I mentioned wanting some good meat for supper tonight.

With all those tomatoes, fresh boneless pork chops, and a pack of spaghetti laying around... you know what happened next: pork chop parmesan! This was possibly the healthiest, easiest, and therefore most delicious meal I've ever cooked.

Pork Chop (or Chicken!) Parmesan for One*
1 boneless pork chop or boneless skinless chicken breast
Mrs. Dash Original (or italian seasoning blend of your choice)
2 medium tomatoes, peeled (a bit messy, but easy)
1 fresh garlic clove, pressed (or equivalent amount of crushed garlic)
salt
sugar
black pepper
olive oil
spaghetti, approximately 1/2" - 3/4" bundle raw
1/8 cup parmesan cheese, shredded

If you have a meat pounder, beat the pork or chicken to an ideal thickness of 1/2 inch (or as close as possible). If your meat is already this size, then skip the pounding. Lightly salt meat and sprinkle one side with seasoning blend, then set aside.

While preparing tomato sauce, boil 1 1/2 - 2 cups water in a small pot and cook spaghetti, removing from water when tender.

For the sauce, heat 1 tsp. olive oil on low-medium in a nonstick skillet; cut tomatoes into small pieces and add to skillet, along with garlic. When tomatoes begin to sizzle, reduce heat and simmer, stirring frequently. Add a pinch each of salt, sugar, and black pepper. Break up tomato chunks as desired; when tomatoes have reduced to a smooth sauce, remove to a small bowl and set aside.

In the same pan, heat 1 tsp olive oil on medium heat. When oil begins to spread, place meat, seasoned side down, in center of skillet. Cook 3-5 minutes until sides begin to darken, then flip and cook for another 1-2 minutes. Cut a small slice in the center to check for doneness. Pork chops cook quickly, so keep a close eye on them, especially if they are thin.

In a shallow bowl/plate, place meat on top of spaghetti, then top with tomato sauce and sprinkle with parmesan cheese.

Voila! Pofta buna, bon apetit!

*For extra mouths (or leftovers), simply multiply ingredients by the number of servings.

America -- The Dark Side

Let me see a show of hands. How many of you whites have ever even looked at the “black people” section of any store? Here’s another one: How about the Mexican or Asian food? Not the Pace Picante sauce and ramen noodles, but the ingredients for authentic ethnic cuisine.

 

remind me

I've come to cherish the little reminders that He is real -- that He knows, sees, hears... cares.

I know these things in my head, and I repeat them to myself, but if your heart is anything like mine, you know how it doesn't like to listen. Sometimes I just need to be reminded.

For example, there have been times in the past when I felt lonely. I knew I had friends, although they were far away, but my doubting heart just didn't feel it. "God, I know that You care, but right now I would love to hear it from someone else." Then the phone rang and I knew. He heard me. On the other end of the line I heard a friend's voice, but in it I also heard Him saying, "I know, beloved. I know."

I have a playlist on my iPod that I created specifically for my morning commute, but for some reason, this morning I was in the mood for Bethany Dillon. I just bought her new EP, so I turned to this song that's been stuck in my head for a few days.



"You say you're good to those who wait." Oh, really? When has He ever said that? I wanted to believe it, and I've been trying to believe it, but I can be a bit of a skeptic. I'm one of those annoying people who doesn't like to believe anything unless you can prove it to me from the Word. I heard these nice words in the car this morning, but as much as I like Bethany, I wasn't ready to accept them from her mouth. Where does it specifically say that in the Bible? Hmm? Today I needed it straight from Him.

"Are you really good to those who wait? Can I know that for sure?"

I let that question hang in the air for a minute before I turned my attention back to the interstate, to the challenges of high school, to my busy afternoon. I forgot about waiting. When I sat down for dinner I decided to visit a friend's blog and found that somehow I'd missed yesterday's post, which led me to Lamentations 3, where I read this:

But this I call to mind,

and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,

“therefore I will hope in him.”

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,

to the soul who seeks him.

It is good that one should wait quietly

for the salvation of the Lord.

My mind immediately went back to this morning. I don't think it's a coincidence that I missed that post yesterday, heard that song this morning, and whispered that question. I wasn't even surprised to hear Him answer. "I hear you, beloved. I know. And yes, I am good to those who wait." Sometimes I think He lets us ask the questions just so He can answer that He knows, He sees, He hears... He is real.

for goodness sake?

I was thinking about my students today, with their various religious backgrounds, and I asked myself a question: What difference does it make? They are good kids who stay out of trouble, are nice to each other, and want to make a contribution in the world (well, a few of them, anyway). Does it really matter if they do it in the name of Yahweh or Allah or Dharma/Karma? Good is good, right? I know that kind of thinking is false, but it's difficult to look in the face of a beautiful girl with kind eyes and a gentle spirit and think otherwise. More than difficult, it is heart-breaking.

coming and going

That's what I've been doing.

If Heaven had a bakery...

I'm pretty sure they would be cranking out these cookies!

I recently switched to whole wheat flour for my breads, but this was my first go at using it for sweet stuff. I fully expected a heavy, dense, gummy cookie, but I am pleasantly surprised! I adapted this recipe from one I found on the Gold Medal flour bag -- if you want actual chocolate chip cookies, you should go with that one instead. These turn out more like the Chewy Chocolate Supremes at Great American Cookie Company.

Are we an item? Girl quit playin!

Good news: I had a life-changing experience today. Bad news: I can't put that video on the internet. But I found this on youtube, and I think it gives you a pretty good idea of what happened in 2-4 grade ESL this morning. I do tutor some pretty awesome Korean kids (which is part of why I love this video), but try to imagine this with 14 hispanic kids. It's ok to be jealous of my career.

Reality Checks

I get the question a lot, "Where exactly are you from?" I always say I'm from somewhere near the nearest large town, and they're satisfied with that. I never expect people in another state to know about our little town -- but she does. One of the teachers in my school, in a town the size of a grain of rice, had her first teaching job in my peanut of a hometown. What your mother told you is true: you should always be on your best behavior! I may have never been more self-aware than the moment when I handed that teacher the email address of a church member from back home. It really is a small world.

caffeinated mondays

Mandi Mapes | "Let It Shine" from AsiaStories on Vimeo.


Bethany Dillon has a song that I love (ok, a lot of songs that I love) that talks about her alarm going off way too early -- getting out of bed is a "small obedience." Yeah, I sing that song every morning in the shower while I attempt to wash the sleep out of my eyes.

81 Faces

I sat at 'my' desk, wearing my trusty cardigan and penny loafers, armed with enrollment list and pencil. This one has dimples, that one has frizzy bangs. Round. Slender. The little boy with shaggy hair. The silent girl with a long braid. The loud one.

crazy is a relative term

January 1, 2012, 12:30 am

Dear Journal,

I have had an epiphany. Here in this bed, with "Ode to Joy" stuck in my head, I thought to myself, "this could drive a person crazy!" So now I know why many would say artists are crazy, er, “eccentric.” A master or ever a dabbler in the arts must become so in tune with the chosen medium that the craft appears everywhere. To a painter, the world is made of color. To a writer, even life itself often requires the “willing suspension of disbelief.” To a sculptor, the world must be a vast museum of shapes, sizes, angles, textures...To a musician, even a crooked ceiling fan beats a steady rhythm and hums at a certain pitch.

“Oh, the artist’s life must be beautiful,” you might say. You wouldn’t be entirely incorrect in saying so; appreciation for the aesthetic has a way of making one search for the aesthetic in, and so appreciate, nearly everything. Where is the eccentricity in all of this?

Consider for a moment that aforementioned crooked ceiling fan. An unleveled ceiling causes it to rock ever so slightly at approximately 69 beats per minute, a slow to moderate tempo at which several tunes could be hummed. These melodies repeat tirelessly in the mind of a musician who tries in vain to rest his or her mind in a bed beneath that fan. This person lays in bed hearing grace notes in intervals of perfect fourths and fifths for what seems like a lengthy amount of time. Finally seeking the owner of the house, who was probably in a most pleasant dream, the disgruntled musician in nightgown and slippers demands that something be done about that infernal ceiling fan! Or perhaps the hopeful sleeper simply turns the fan up or down in hopes of finding a beat conducive to some other tune, one that may set the mind at ease and lead to sleep.

Such incidents, having perfectly logical explanations, may very well have contributed for centuries to eccentric caricatures of the artist.

Perhaps this irritation seems unreasonable to you. Perhaps crazy is a relative term, after all.

Maybe Beethoven's ceiling fan was out of adjustment... Just a thought!

I got a new neighbor last week.

I read a book once about a family who moved into an old house. In the attic, their daughter found a dollhouse model of the house. Every time she looked through the windows of the dollhouse, the girl could see into the lives of families who had lived there in the past. When my family moved into an old house a few years ago, I thought of that book and what the house might have looked like through a pair of 1947 eyes. I wondered if they were hiding somewhere peering at me, telling me not to hang that picture there, trying to warn me about the squeaky floorboard in the middle room. But where we once felt like intruders, the house is now full of our own memories and smells. It's our home now.

on the sublime (another post about mountains)

I was new in town, trying not to use my GPS, and not sure where I would end up. Just wandering.

I took in fields, barns, and windy roads while I sang along with Bethany Dillon, “our God is faithful!” Then out of what seemed like nowhere I saw a shiny lake sitting at the feet of mountains. I rolled down the windows and stuck my hand into the warm August air. I wanted to touch them. I pulled over at the lakeside recreational area and stood beside my car for what seemed like an hour, although it was probably five minutes, munching on some fruit snacks and smiling. I slipped my shoes off and felt the grass between my toes -- the warm, tickly, mountain grass. The families enjoying picnics must have thought I was a loon. I didn’t care. I wanted to wrap my arms around the mountains and hold them forever.

pure and undefiled

"Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world." (James 1:27, NASB)

KJV calls them the "fatherless."

surprised by joy

ice cream money goes to the coffee shop...

country music comes on...
cardigans come out of storage...
trees start to show their personalities...
I drive seven hours to breathe in the peanut harvest...

It’s when I can finally lay in the grass or ride my bicycle through the neighborhood without breaking a sweat! Good things happen in October. Welcome changes come in October.

just another day living the dream!

I walked into the church smelling like baby drool, second-day hair still in last night’s ponytail, and somehow I knew what was coming.

“Rebecca had a hot date yesterday!!!”

Amazing what lungs a 13 year old girl can possess, especially when given a microphone. I tried every way possible to explain why lunch with an old friend is not exactly the same as a date, but 7th graders do not cut you any slack. In their minds, boy + girl = date! You know what? I love them for that.

I love that whatever I do on Sunday, I’m going to hear about at praise band practice on Monday afternoon (and so is the rest of the world). I love the way they giggle behind their notebooks like I don’t know what they’re talking about. I love those girls with their developing voices and that one precious red-headed boy who sings with them (I need to remember to give them a hard time for that). I love being real with them, having conversations that I know are being eavesdropped on and then letting them tell me what I said. I love that I’m not such a stranger anymore.

Note to self: Next time, eat somewhere less popular.

“RE-becca, are you really 27 years old?” 

What do you know? For the first time in my life, someone actually over-estimated my age! Her mother scolded her -- making jokes about age is not polite in America -- but I love that little girl’s frankness. I love that sometimes she cries because she doesn’t get to stay for writing lessons. I love that before I can start a writing lesson, I have to hear about soccer camp and Old MacDonald on the recorder and what the baby girl did to her older brother and sister today. I love eating a piece of candy and having no idea what I'm putting in my mouth. I love that when their mom offers me a plate of food, she has no idea how much more she is sending me home with.

Note to self: Always have a job that means something.

I love reading with a baby asleep on my lap because she cries when I put her down. I love knowing glances from middle schoolers. I love three Korean kids waving at me from the front door. If I've learned one thing in grad school, it's that life truly is what you make it.

I love that my life is so full of love in a town that a short year ago was empty.
It doesn’t get any better than that, folks.

cheers! lemonberry pucker

Ok, this one is super simple, but sometimes I forget that a smoothie doesn't have to be complicated to be 100% delicious! On such a beautiful, sunny day, I decided to end the first week of October with one last taste of summer. I promise this is twice as good as Sonic or McDonald's (and MUCH better for you).

Lemonberry Pucker (careful now... teehee)

1 cup frozen strawberries
8 oz sugar-free lemonade
     (I like store-brand Crystal Light)
1 cup ice cubes
     (even better if you make them with lemonade!)

Dump it all in, blend it up nice and smooth, and pucker up! Delightful!

the perfect date

Before you go and have a myocardial infarction, don't worry, I have not been on a date. Not the kind you're thinking about, anyway.

But when I got up this morning, I got myself ready for a special day. I put on my favorite brown shorts, stuffed my laptop into my homemade brown messenger bag, slipped my toes into my brown sandals, and even did the unthinkable -- I curled my hair and put on lipstick. I'm wearing bracelets. It's that important.

I walked downtown to the coffee shop and sipped a pumpkin spice latte. I sat at a table for two and dug up some memories to write about. I sipped on an empty cup for two hours so the barista wouldn't think I was overstaying my welcome, if that's even possible in a coffee shop. Now here I am enjoying the most beautiful afternoon I've seen since last October, and I don't even care that the wind is blowing my curls all over the place. The tree behind me has enough yellow leaves to let me know I can expect more of these days, and off in the distance I can see the hazy blue outline of mountains, one of which I'll be standing on top of this weekend. I don't know about you, but there's just something about this time of year that makes me feel giddy. I'm sitting on a bench all by myself and I swear I think my stomach has that sick oh-my-gosh-this-can't-be-real feeling. I've only ever been on 2.5 dates in my life, and they had nothing on this. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that I endure the other nine or ten months of the year for the sake of this one season.

It's true, I'm in love... with autumn.