Blame it on Milli Vanelli...they wrote a song about it...or did they?

Marion: "My god! Have I taught you nothing?"
Liza:"Yes mother, you have taught me nothing."

Another soap opera worldview I adopted in my past was blaming my mother.

Shock and awe! I know, I seem so innocent.

But then, so did Liza Colby.

At one point in life (and it was after my teen years), I blamed my mother for e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.

It wasn't really fair to her because:

1. She was a single parent and she should have only gotten 50% of the blame. But my dad had died and there was no one else to parentally blame (stay tuned to see how I used his death as a crutch)

2. It's never fair to blame your mother...only convenient because it's a universal truth that we all want to blame our mothers, hope that we aren't exactly like them but pray that we can make lasagna the same way they did

3. She did her best, not that I cared whenever I pulled out the "it's my mother's fault" card, but she did do her best

Marion:"The last innocent words you uttered were ga-ga-goo-goo!"

OK, so I admit to blaming my mother. I have had no halo above my head.

But why did I blame her.

Why does anyone blame?

I'll tell you the cause of pointing my finger at my Mom.

I blame Adam.

Yep. Adam was the one who started it all.

When God confronted him with his sin of disobedience, Adam said, "It was this woman you gave me."

And since Adam, the blame game has been going around.

I blamed my mom for all sorts of things.

Some of my favourite reasons were used to resolve the following issues:

1. I was being lazy ...because my mother never taught me to do anything

2. I was arrogant...because my mother told me I could do anything

3. I had temper tantrums...because my mother never stopped me from having them at an early age

Here's the thing.

In the above list, it doesn't matter what my Mom did do, didn't do or tried to do. I didn't care about my mother. I cared about covering my own failings. Mom's can be a convenient quilt at times to hide behind.

And in blaming her, I distanced myself from the potential of a close relationship with her.

Blame only does one thing...it hurts everyone.

As I mature in Christ, I have come to learn one thing.

I and I alone have sinned against God alone.

No one else will stand with me when I stand before my Maker.

Not even my mother.

No one else will be there to account for my deeds. It will be some serious one on one time with me and the Father.

God doesn't want me to cast blame. He wants me to surrender all the fear of my shame to His capable hands. All the shame that would say, "You won't love me God if I admit to this...so I will deny it."

He wants me to rest in His love.

Be secure there and know that His love is enough.

That what Jesus did for me on the cross is enough.

Love is enough.

Love is patient and kind...and never casts blame. It holds up the truth.

And the truth is: My mom did the best she could, I made a lot of mistakes, Jesus loved me enough to pay for those mistakes, I am forgiven. That's the whole truth.

Well, that and...I can't make lasagna like my mother.

But that's not my fault

...or is it?

Flashback Friday; Stop touching my bum!

My brother and I had a lot of fun teasing each other as teenagers.

My bro has an incredible sense of humour. It is ridiculously funny. And he's the only grown man I know who giggles. He giggles until he cries from laughing so hard. Because that's just how he is.

When we were teenagers, we liked to drive my mother crazy.

Particularly in the grocery store.

I think she used to call us, "Hooligans" but I'm not sure because we were too busy giggling to hear her.

One of our favourite tricks was to see how much we could embarrass each other and keep a straight face while doing it.

Point in case, the fateful time Jesse spotted me at the end of the grocery aisle and bellowed, "Good news, Allie! I found the ex-lax you were looking for. I didn't know what kind you wanted so I picked up regular and extra strength for you. Which one do you want?"

I would look at him at the end of the aisle. And then I'd look at the old man who was looking at me, the young couple who was still holding a can of soup yet staring at me and the other three people in the aisle who gave me their full attention to get my response.

And I, after being embarrassed beyond belief, would mumble something unintelligible.

Until...I would catch him with my mom in one aisle and call out, "Jess, come quick. The jock itch cream you need is on sale in aisle four. Quick, there's only three bottles left and I know you need lots."

To which, my mother would then race out of the aisle muttering something unintelligible while the other shoppers backed away from my brother in case what he supposedly had was catching.

My mother swore she would stop taking us shopping with her. Especially when we started in on the need for triple ply toilet paper and hemorrhoid creams.

It was all in fun. Truly, Mom, it was.

And then there was the time my mom did leave us in the car as she went grocery shopping. She made good on her threats.

But we managed to find a way to make our own mischief. You would think a 17 year old and a 14 year old would have something better to do.

But no. No, we did not.

It all started as the windows began to fog up. I was writing something crazy about my brother on the window and he said, "I'm going to unroll the windows a bit before someone thinks we're fogging up these windows for the wrong reason."

I threw something at his head.

And then it began...

My brother, ever mindful of doing things at the exact right moment, waited until a middle aged couple was walking past. And then...ever so loudly, in a defensive voice says, "Stop touching my bum!"

He quickly ducks down as the couple turn and look and see...me.

Me, myself and I.

My brother pokes his head up and says, "Stop it!"

The couple shakes there head and gives me a look before walking off.

I throw something at my brother's head.

Several years later, I was staying with an elderly couple.

They had a dog named Duke who ate all my chocolates but he wore a bandana around his neck and looked so cute that I would forgive him.

I was forever telling Gerry about my family and all the crazy things we would do. Gerry had a great sense of humour and would love the antics my brother and I got into. We would laugh and then he'd tell me stories about his family.

I worked at a TV studio that was across town and I had to ride the bus to get there. One day, Gerry offered to pick me up from work as he would be on that end of town that day. I was very grateful to escape the bus ride and eagerly accepted the offer.

Ah, a chance to get home early!

But wouldn't you know it...rush hour and an accident left Gerry and I stuck in the middle of downtown on the busiest street. We were wedged in between people and cars as we waited to make an exodus out of the traffic jam.

As we were at a complete stand still, Gerry tried to cheer me up about not getting home early. I wasn't having any of that-- I remained in a bit of a pout.

So, to my shock and awe, in the middle of this busy street, Gerry, my 69 year old friend, unrolls his window and yells...

you guessed it...

"Stop touching my bum!"

I think I threw something at his head.

There's never been a man whose more alive

Brighter than the sun will shine
Flames of fire are in your eyes
Jesus, You are fairer than the sons of man

Your Father's words they dwell inside
No other man is more alive
Jesus, You are fairer than the sons of man

I can hear the angels singing
calling Glory, Glory to God in the Highest

There's a never been a man who's more alive

Listen to it here (1:07 is the chorus)

Convenient Memory Tricks

And now, as promised, my first series on my blog:

Soap Opera Sayings

Like sand through the hourglass so is the drama in my life.

(Cue music and cheesy sunset picture with an hourglass)

Celeste: What's your name?

Scottie: Scottie.
Celeste: Who are you?
Scottie: I don't know.
Celeste: So, you have amnesia?
Scottie: Maybe... what's amnesia?
Celeste: Loss of memory.
Scottie: I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure I do.
Celeste: Is there anything that you remember?
Scottie: My name... Scottie.
Celeste: What about your last name?
Scottie: Yeah... No... Where am I?

Growing up and watching soap operas can really mess a girl up. You can start to get addicted and lose sense of reality and fantasy. Suddenly, you look at your life the way your favourite star on daytime drama approaches hers. You envision yourself telling everyone off and leaving in a huff. And you imagine that you have uh-mazing hair that you can toss over your shoulder.

One ridiculous habit I adopted was that I would claim amnesia.

In my walk with the Lord, His Spirit would start to talk to me about things that were important to Him.

To do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly before Him.

And I would agree. I would say, "Yes, Jesus. I love you and I want to walk in your ways."

And then...something would happen.

Perhaps it was a movie that I shouldn't be watching.

Or perhaps it was gossiping about someone who wasn't living up to my standard of holiness.

Or perhaps it was remaining in unforgiveness towards someone who had wounded me.

Whatever came up, I conveniently came down with amnesia.

"What's that Jesus? You want me to walk pure and set apart to You? Living my life through Your grace? And you don't want me to put images in front of my eyes that tolerate the things you hate and despise? What? What's this about? There's a scripture in Proverbs 4:20-27 that tells me how you want me to walk with You? Ohhhhh...'cause I didn't remember that. I don't remember anything. I have amnesia.

What do you mean, Jesus, that I am walking in unforgiveness towards that person and I've locked myself in a prison?

I don't really remember any of that talk, Lord. I can't seem to recall it. I don't know if you know but I have amnesia.

But my amnesia is about as real as the capped teeth on a prima donna soap opera star's smile.

I know what He has written to me in His word. I know it because I have followed His command to write it on my heart and bind it on my forehead. His word convicts me and reminds me that I need the cross.

The wondrous cross.

The cross that took all my gossiping, and all my unforgiveness and all my sin and put an end to the power it can have in my life.

Jesus didn't claim amnesia as He hung on the cross. He didn't conveniently forget me or how my sin burned against the Father's holiness. Instead, He said, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

Even when I did know that I was lying to God, denying that I had chosen to love myself more than Him, He cried, "Forgive them for they know not what they do."

Because I didn't know that lying to God, having convenient amnesia, was actually keeping me from the greatest love I could ever hope to know. I didn't know that my lying only showed my unbelief. It showed that I thought God would reject me and not accept me because of my sin.

I did not know or understand the power of the cross.

But I do now.

And I will never forget it.

The cross of Christ is where He remembered me in the midst of my sin, shed His blood and made atonement, where He forever proclaimed that I was remembered and now made worthy to stand before a Holy and Righteous God. My salvation was purchased, my life made new.

Thank you for the Cross, Jesus.

S.O.S.

Welcome to my first series on my blog:

Soap Opera Sayings

Tragically, I grew up watching soap operas.

Horrible filth for the mind, I must say. It warped my brain on what real relationships looked like and horribly depicted men and women and conflict and drama for me. I didn't know there was a difference between reality and fiction for a LONG time.

Mind you, I L.O.V.E.D. the drama. LOVED it. I had the VCR record the shows while I was at school so that I could stay in the loop and scream on Friday when it was a cliffhanger ending and wonder how I would survive until Monday.

(insert hand to my forehead and fainting to the floor)

My sister bought Soap Opera Digest magazine and we were devoted to finding out what will happen next, what was going on behind the scenes and who was coming to the show soon.

I know you want to know what I watched so I will tell you.

I was a die hard Another World fan. I was all about the Jake/Vicki/Ryan triangle, the Cass/Kathleen/Frankie triangle and I dreaded the name Carl Hutchins.

I also loved All My Children--I remember Kelly Ripa when she was Hayley and had very big hair. I pretty much watched General Hospital because I loved Brenda and Sonny and the big talent show that they put on at the hospital every year.

For the record, I hated the show the Young an your d the Restless...because come on, how many weddings can you have at Catherine's house? Especially when character never even comes in contact Catherine.

How long does it take Victor to come back from the dead and reveal it to his family who are grieving in the office that he is alive (two weeks to walk down the hall, approach the door, turn the door knob and then slowly open the door to the shock and fainting antics of the bottle-blonde Nikki.) That show is the most drawn out thing ever. I also didn't like Cricket/Christine and all the airtime that she got--her pursed lip smile really made me want to change the channel. Though I never did.

Sigh.

I was thinking the other day about how much influence soap operas had on me and how much I bought into the lies it perpetuated and then how they started to show up in my life.

It's why God's Word tells us to guard our hearts and to be careful what we look at.

Remember Lot.

He set up a camp that was facing Sodom and Gomorrah.

And the next time we see him in the Bible, he is living in the middle of it. What you set your face to you end up being engrossed in. Then it becomes the way you think, and your thoughts determine your actions and then your character.

So, in my new series of confessions, I'll be talking about how Soap Opera Sayings and Principles dominated my life and then showed up in the way I treated others...and then I'll talk about how God has put things right in my life.

Grab the toe nail polish and get ready for the drama!

But you'll have to wait until Monday...dunh,dunh,dunh!

(Insert hand to your forehead and fainting to the floor here)

Betty Blabbermouth

Have you ever known a Betty Blabbermouth?

I've been one. Not proud of it...now.

I have been in the past. I've been proud that I've been privy to such scandalous information or any information, really. And then I have taken it to the rooftops to blah,blah,blah it for the world to know.

And that works for a while until someone blabs on you.

And you feel that awkward embarrassing moment of your face turning red and the promise you instantly make to yourself to never share a lick of information with that person again.

Ever again.

Sometimes I find myself with a delicious gossipy piece of news. It's just ripe for someone to taste it and eat it and instantly go tell someone else all about it.

But at what cost?

The cost of friendship.

I'm learning to lay a hand over my mouth. To keep others secrets. To be a brick wall that things get whispered to.

And then I whisper them to Jesus.

I know He won't blab. He's good for it.

When you don't have a square to spare...

I got this email today and I just had to share.

Enjoy!

When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of
women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn,
you check for feet under the cubicle doors. Every cubicle is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the cubicle. You get in to find the door won't latch. It
doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your
pants!

The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mom,
no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door
hook, if there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around
your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the
FLOOR!)

Down with your pants and assume 'The Stance'. In this position, your
aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down,
but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper on
it, you hold 'The Stance.'

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you
discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.

In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Dear, if you
had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet
paper!' Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday -
the one that's still in your purse (the purse around your neck, that
now you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same
time). That would have to do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way
possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door
hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the
toilet.

'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your
precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing
your footing altogether and sliding down directly onto the toilet
seat.

It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too
late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and
life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet
paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew,
because you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet
seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of
diseases you could get'.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so
confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire
hose against the inside of the bowl and spraying a fine mist of water
that covers your bottom and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and you grab
onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in
too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the
wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a candy
wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to
the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic
sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and
walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the
very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from
your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it?)

You yank the paper from your shoe, plonk it in the woman's hand and
tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.'

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and
left the men's toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and
why is your purse hanging around your neck?

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public rest
rooms/toilets (rest? you've GOT to be kidding!!).

It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It
also answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to
the toilets in pairs. It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang
onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door.

Anyone relate?

I was in my Toyota screaming at the radio, yo!

Every special moment that happens in life you can recall where you were when it happened.

I was sitting on the pavement steps when I realized I was finally done school.

I was in a tree house when my boyfriend (now husband), Jeep, gave me a promise ring.

I was staring into the fridge wanting mayo and chicken chili sauce mixed together when I realized that I was pregnant with my second child.

I remember where I was when Canada won Olympic Gold in Hockey at the Vancouver 2010 games.

Where were you?

Loving the Unlovely

Lately, I've been praying a prayer that goes something like this, "God, send me to the unlovely. Send me to the least loved, I will go and love them. I will be Jesus to them."

Yesterday, as I walked to work, the Spirit of God was stirring in my heart. I could tell God was preparing my heart for something but I didn't know what.

About ten minutes after we opened the store, a man came in. He looked at us and started sobbing. His daughter had committed suicide the night before. He wept for a half hour and continually cried, "I want to see my child. I want to see her again. Just one more time."

Then his story came spilling out. A horrid childhood and a life of crime as a gang member of Hell's Angels. An alcoholic to drown out the pain that rings in his ears of the years of committing murder and other acts of violence. It made him a bad father, he said. I wasn't a good father and I couldn't help her, he said. I'm worth nothing, he said.

I told him about Jesus and His love for him. And he said, "I keep hearing that. Everywhere I go."

So we had a discussion about how God gets our attention. He chases us down, He is not content until we know His incredible love for us.

His love ruins us to what would seem like the pleasures of this life. Those things taste chalky and dry compared to His love. His overwhelming love. His perfect love. I can't fathom it, I can only ask for more of it. More of it to have...to give away.

After this man left the store, I hid in the employee lounge for a few moments and fell on my face before God. I was overwhelmed with God's heart for this man. And I heard Him ask me, "Are you still willing to love those who others reject?"

I thought for a moment. This man was drunk, in despair, rambling, smelly, snot-covered and tried to hug me twice inappropriately. I, myself, didn't want to stand and cry with him. I wanted to walk away.

But then God's heart of love for this man overwhelmed me. And I had to stay. I had to tell him that he was loved. That forgiveness of all the sins that play over in his head every night was available to him.

"Am I willing to love those who others reject?"

I am. And I know that I cannot do it in my own strength but He can love through me.

How about you? Are you willing to love the broken? Are you willing to lay yourself aside for the things that are dear to God's heart?

Happy Valentine's Day

I hope your day is filled with surprises and loads of love, love, sugary love!