Happy Thanksgiving!

JVC Billings 2006-2007

Thank you God for our food, our home, and each other.
Bless our family and friends, all the people of the world, and the earth we share.
Give us compassion for those we serve;
Make us mindful of those less fortunate;
And keep our hearts open to hear your voice.
Amen.

Look into the Mirror

Today as the students were lining up from recess duty, this one kid in the 4th grade told me,

"Hey, you shouldn't wear that make-up anymore. It isn't Halloween anymore."

ouch.

I was already having a pretty shitty day and this kid just made it worse - even though I know shouldn't take things like this personally. Well, fact of the matter is, and it stung for a bit. An hour later, I got teary-eyed at the Veteran's Day program where all the kids dressed in red, white, and blue and sang to the Veteran's of the Crow tribe. I was so moved.

I told my roommate Courtney about this kid's comment and how it brought me down. She interpreted it as this: "Maybe this kid could really see what's inside of you and is telling you that you don't need to hide things; that you just need to be genuine with your feelings and let them show. Maybe it means you don't need the "make-up" to cover up what's inside."

wow. i heart her and her positive perspective on life. when you feel somewhat isolated from what you're used to and from people you love, it can be hard to wash off the make-up or put on a mask to protect your vulnerability. But you just gotta let it go...

Thanks, Loni.

Live in Fear?

Fear. How would you define fear in your life? Fear of heights? Fear of the dark? Fear of spiders?

Well, I just discovered my fear. I've discovered my fear of raw chicken in the whole. In my attempt to be domestic and to cook "fine dining" for my roommates, I chose to make herb-roasted chicken (garnished with lemon-black pepper, basil, sage, and garlic), home-made mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and corn.

As I was washing the chicken out, I started to fear that this creature would come back alive. I felt its bones, its breast, its insides... and I seriously freaked out. There was something odd about washing this poor thing that - if it were alive, it would be pecking around and flapping its wings about.

I was disturbed and perturbed. I'm dead serious. What's gonna happen when I grow up and have kids and a husband and am craving chicken and I get freaked out about touching it? Holding it? Washing it? YECK.

And yet, the chicken is now in the oven, baking and roasting away. And it smells pretty dang good.