Blue Like Jazz movie exceeds expectations

There are some books that I like to read over and over. Each time feels as though I’m having coffee with a good friend that I haven’t seen in a while. Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller is one of those books. The memoir tells Donald Miller’s spiritual journey as he transforms from a Texas born and bread Southern Baptist to a progressive Christian entering adulthood in Portland Oregon. When I heard that the book was going to be made into a movie, I was skeptical. But this week when I watched the movie on the big screen my skepticism melted faster than the butter on my popcorn. Watching the movie felt nostalgic for me. As I watched a college-age Donald Miller try to figure out what he believes about God, I thought of myself in college. I read Blue Like Jazz my senior year. I read the book during a time of depression and loneliness. I spent the year before in Philadelphia, where situations challenged my conservative ideals and black-and-white world view. Donald Miller experiences this same question and doubt at Reed College in Portland. During a scene in the movie, Miller asks his friend Penny if he looks stupid wearing an astronaut costume during a protest against big-box book stores. “You don’t look stupid,” she said. “You look like you don’t belong.” I can relate to that feeling that I just don’t belong. And I’m not the only one. Blue Like Jazz resonates with so many people because there is a part of us all that feels like we just don’t belong. And there times that we all question the idea of loving God in the face of such a messed up world. I read Blue Like Jazz at a time in my life when I questioned whether I believed in God. And I could not wrap my hands around the idea of God becoming flesh, dwelling among us, offering the hope of peace and salvation. Like Donald Miller, in many ways I tried to escape God. I tried to distance myself from a God I didn’t understand. But just like Miller, I could not escape God’s irresistible grace. Blue Like Jazz describes human’s longing for, “beauty, justice, love and transcendence.” I can distance myself from the idea of God but I can never escape those innate human longings. And I can not dismiss the moments of spiritual connectedness that I experience when I read an inspiring book, or take time to pray and meditate, or have a quality conversation with a friend. I believe those connections are God weaving Her thread throughout the stories of our lives, connecting us to one another through Her grace. In Blue Like Jazz you see Donald Miller’s life connect with his classmates at Reed College to create a unique spiritual tapestry. Whether you believe in God or not, I promise you will love this coming of age film. As someone who usually waits until movies come out on Red Box, I can honestly say I do not regret the $8.50 I spent on the film.

Farmers markets benefit environment, support health

With spring in full swing, farmer’s markets are open throughout the metro. Last weekend I made a visit to the Saturday farmer’s market in Lawrence. As I walked from booth to booth I remembered all the reason’s I love the farmer’s market. I love the social aspect of the farmer’s market. The mundane task of buying groceries is transformed into a fun family event at the farmer’s market. I love that you know where your food comes from at the farmer’s market. I love that you get to meet the farmers. Seeing who labored for your food gives you a greater awareness about your food. And I’m convinced the more aware we are about our food, the more intentional we will be when we choose what food to eat. I love that farmer’s markets support farmer’s and the local economy. I love the environmental impacts of shopping at the farmer’s market. Local farmers often use sustainable farming techniques that preserve the land. And when you buy local less fossil fuels are used to transport your food to you. I love the health benefits of food available at farmer’s markets. Fresh fruits and vegetables, you can’t beat that. And meat available at farmer’s markets are often free range, grass fed, and antibiotic free. Going to my local farmer’s market makes me feel good on so many levels. When you go to the farmers market you support farmers, the environment, and your health. And if that isn’t reason enough for you, I’m sure the cheese a pastry samples are.

Dance the night away

Last Thursday my husband Logan and I went to a bluegrass show at Liberty Hall.

Logan just started a new job and that seemed like as good of an excuse as any to put on some cowboy boots and dance the night away. The band, Leftover Salmon, did not disappoint me. And neither did my cowboy boots.

I love cowboy boots. The combination of cowboy boots, PBR, and bluegrass just makes the world seem right. I know that I sound like an idealistic hipster, but it’s true.

A friend once told me that the exercise of dancing forces your brain to be in the present. I tried to find the scientific study to support this via Google. My Google search was unsuccessful, but I’m confident it’s true.

When you dance, you let go of your inhibitions. You move freely to the beat of the music. You let go of yesterday's worries and tomorrow's concerns.

When you dance, you dance in the here and now. When you dance, the music and the movement are enough. When you dance, you are enough.

There are so many times in my life when I don’t feel like I’m enough. Not successful enough, not organized enough, not witty enough, not tough enough. Life has a way of highlighting all the areas where I am not enough.

But when I let go and dance I experience what it means to be enough. And I believe that experience is more real than the day to day voices in my head that tell me all the ways that I’m not enough.

So put on some boots, grab a PBR, turn Pandora to the Yonder Mountain String Band station and dance your worries away.

Time moves faster than I write

Is it just me or did the abnormally warm winter seem to speed up time?

It was about a year ago that I lost my job as editor of the Kansas City Nursing News and started to work on a memoir about the time I spent in Philadelphia during college. It seems like the past year flew by like blur and I only have nine chapters finished for the book.

The book seemed like a great idea, but without a solid deadline I have struggled to pump out a finished first draft. Instead, I’ve thought a billion other projects that I should start as a means of procrastination. I mean, let’s face it, real writers procrastinate. Right?

My husband does a great job at being my personal cheerleader. “How’s that book coming along?” He asks every few weeks and politely points out that I probably could spend a little more time writing and a little less time reading novels. But reading makes you a better writer. Real writers read. Geesh, I don’t think Logan knows how this business works at all.

But the truth is when it comes to getting a book published neither do I. I don’t know the first thing about getting literary agent. And the process seems too overwhelming for me to think about. All I know is magazines and newspapers. All I know is writing other people’s stories, not my own.

And that brings me to a road block I recently encountered with my book. I met so many people in Philly who’s stories I want to tell. I feel like their stories need to be told, but at the same time something inside me tells me that these aren’t my stories to tell. For the past eight years I’ve written stories about other people’s lives. About injustices, accomplishments, sorrows, and joys. But all these people shared their stories to me as a reporter.

I didn’t come to Philly as a reporter. I came to Philly as a 20-year-old in search of guidance.

Someone once asked me if I could summarize my time in Philly in one word.

Grace.

My response was automatic. Grace. I learned what grace was in Philly. And that’s the story that I need to tell. My story. My journey to grace.

So, I’m back on the writing band wagon and I hope to have a craptastic first draft done by the end of the summer. That’s my deadline. Hold me to it.

How to avoid Facebook fights

I opened my MacBook this morning and did what I do every morning, log onto Facebook.

This morning I scrolled through the comments about what a great season KU had despite the loss to Kentucky in the championship game. But among those positive comments there was one person speaking ill of KU fans that really angered me. I could feel my blood start to boil as I scrolled down the page.

I couldn’t help but wonder, why do these Facebook status updates incite me so much?

And I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. Just last week one of my friends told me someone called her a name on Facebook after she responded to a political status update.

Facebook can bring out the best of us in our status updates- inspirational quotes, pictures of cats, invites to see local band play. But the social network can also bring out the worst, and with a presidential election season looming, I worry the worst is yet to come.

Here are my tips for how to deal with FB status updates that get under your skin.

1. Hide comments from common offenders. If someone is posting divisive comments, whether religious, political, or with regards to NCAA teams, don’t be afraid to hide their comments from your Facebook feeds. The person won’t know unless you tell them, so no feelings will be hurt in this process and your blood pressure might be lowered.

2. Don’t engage FB friends who want to pick fights. We’ve all seen these updates from people on all sides of every issue. They go something like this, “So you don’t wanna drill, guess you must want $5 a gallon gas prices AND hate Christmas.” Do not respond to these people. No matter how much you want to, just don’t.

3. Re-evaluate your purpose on Facebook. Facebook has so many purposes in our life these days, both professionally and personally. If you don’t use Facebook for professional uses, I recommended scaling down your friend list to only those people you would want to have dinner with. I call this the Lisa Rule, because my friend Lisa told it to me. If you do use the same Facebook account for personal and professional use, see tip number one.

Hope these tips help you as navigate through Facebook during another presidential election, and what could be a very tense season of Dancing with the Stars. Happy posting.

Rock Chalk magic

In a life separated by seasons, basketball season is by far my favorite.

And basketball doesn’t get much better than the game against Kansas and North Carolina on Sunday. It had all the attributes of classic novel or block buster movie. A team during their “rebuilding year” (that would be Kansas for those of you who don’t follow basketball) playing against one of their nemesis for a spot in the Final Four.

I’ve heard some people say the wounds for Roy Williams departure from Kansas to North Carolina in 2003 have healed. But they seemed raw as ever on Sunday. In pre-game interview Williams confessed he still loves Kansas. It’s his second favorite basketball team, he says.

Well, Roy, there’s no love for the Tar Heels in Bill Self’s heart, or anywhere in Jayhawk country for that matter.

The game proved to be a nail biter until the last few minutes, with fans across the country relying on any superstitions they have to give their team a boost.

In our house we cheered loud and on several occasions I literally jumped out of my seat in applause. As strange as it seems, part of me believes that my cheers help will the Jayhawks into victory game after game. Oh sure, Bill Self’s amazing coaching has a huge role in the teams success, along with talented players and their awesome defense.

But I’m not alone in the belief that my enthusiasm as a fan plays a role. It seems silly unless you believe in the magic of basketball, which I do.

I never really bought into the idea Santa Clause as a child, but a mythical bird called the Jayhawk, now that’s something I could believe in.

College basketball has a mystical way of uniting people across political party, religious affiliation, and race. We may have our differences but come game time we are Kansas.

And this Saturday we will be rooting our Jayhawks on with high hopes, loud cheers and cold beverages in hand.

We can never forget. Seriously.

With shows like Doomsday Bunkers and Doomsday Preppers on air, it’s impossible to deny that many people feel the end is near.

For those of you unfamiliar with these shows, they depict families preparing for some sort of national disaster or some end-of-the-world scenario. These people are taking action for one of the millions of conspiracy theories they may have read online.

I must admit I went through a conspiracy theory phase in high school. I mostly learned about these theories through my debate friends. There is the one about the underground military base beneath the Denver International Airport. And everybody knows the theory that we didn’t really land on the moon. I have to admit it is pretty suspicious that we have never went back. Hmm.

While many of these conspiracy theories seem harmless some cross the line. I feel sad for the people who live in such fear that they dedicate their entire lives for preparing for the end. And I feel annoyed by the people who think every president is THE antichrist. I clearly do not think Obama is the antichrist, but equally don’t think George Bush is the antichrist. We can disagree on politics without demonizing one another. I promise, it’s possible.

But the worst conspiracy theory I’ve ever heard is that the holocaust does not exist as we have depicted it in history. These holocaust deniers, or revisionists as they prefer to be called, dispute the use of gas chambers and believe that the number of Jewish people killed in the holocaust was significantly less than the six million figure that historians accept.

I recently had a conversation about this topic. Before I only thought crazies like Mel Gibson bought into this. The idea that someone truly believes the holocaust was fabricated angers me at my core.

I have read recollections of holocaust survivors, I’ve seen the museum in Washington D.C., I have friends who are Jewish, and I even freelance for the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle. I’m sure all those facts contribute to my emotions around this topic, but the primary reason I feel so passionately against these crazy holocaust deniers is because we can never forget.

We can never forget the horrific events that happened in the holocaust. We can’t water down the evil or teach others that the attempted genocide didn’t occur. We can never forget.

Because when do, we are less likely to acknowledge the tragedies that occur today. We can never forget. Because when we do, we won’t notice the slippery slope that leads to injustice. We can never forget. Because when we do, we might not notice when politicians or those in power ostracize minority groups.

We can never forget. Because six million million Jewish people died in the holocaust, about two-thirds of the Jewish population in Europe. We can never forget because their deaths should not be in vain.

One of my favorite professors in college often said, “Ideas have consequences.”
Indeed they do. Denying the past or focusing on the end-of-the-world future scenarios prohibits us for being present, aware, and affective in the here and now.

Never forget the past, but also don’t be too worried about the future to participate in the beauty of today. It’s balance that I strive to achieve.