Last night I went to my fourth Hanson concert. No, I’m not ashamed. IT WAS AWESOME. I’ve been a fan since my senior year of high school, when my sister and I had Middle of Nowhere on repeat. Since then they’ve gone indie and released five more albums and who knows how many B-sides and EPs. When people laugh that Hanson began and ended with MMMbop, it just shows that they haven’t paid attention. The overall musicianship of these brothers is amazing. They’ve been playing together as a band almost their entire lives, and it shows. They even did an instrument round-robin in the middle of the show – how many groups can do that? Did I mention that they also fundraise for wells in Africa and created their own craft beer called MMMHops?

My friend Hillary was game to go with me even though she’s not a huge fan. I warned her ahead of time that I would be acting extremely uncool during the show. Now that she’s seen me in the Hanson Zone and still wants to be friends, I feel that we’ve advanced to a new level. ♥ But I did miss my sister, and my friend Bethany, both of whom would have been acting a fool and singing every word along with me.

Taylor is considered the heartthrob, but Isaac (the oldest brother) has always been my favorite. And now I have this fantastic picture of him looking RIGHT AT ME. I may have swooned a little. But just a little because all of them are married and have lots of kids. ;)

Each of my Hanson experiences has been a little different. For some reason, the nostalgia was especially strong at this show. I felt like I’d re-lived the past 15 years of my life, remembering where I used to listen to these songs and what was going on at the time. From walking around the U of M campus listening to “A Minute Without You” on a Discman, to car-dancing in my 2013 Elantra to “Get The Girl Back”… we’ve all come a long way.

2 Comments + Posted in: music

I’ve spent most of my life apologizing for my opinions, but I’m currently experiencing a lot of opportunities and encouragement to use my voice boldly. Over the past five or six years, I’ve learned to own my thoughts and feelings on just about everything, and now I’m learning to express them appropriately. It’s even more difficult than I thought it would be.

In my former life as a diehard people-pleaser, it was hard to object to anything about me because I didn’t give people much to object to. I toned down my personality. I kept disagreements to myself or vented to a select few. I avoided conflict at all costs. I always tried to think of myself (and therefore my opinions) as much less important than others, because isn’t that what the Bible teaches? On top of that, as a woman I was supposed to take a backseat to men, so there wasn’t much point in getting too passionate about anything.

You can imagine how this played out in my marriage. Since the main advice to Christian wives in difficult marriages is to submit more – aside: a post on that topic is on a slow boil within me – I doggedly pursued the elusive, magical degree of submissiveness that would make things right, make a husband love his wife like Christ loved the church. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t exist, and I almost lost myself trying to reach it. But when I hit rock bottom, the Holy Spirit was there. He showed me that I had inherent worth and value, that I wasn’t created to be an empty vessel, existing only to be filled with whatever pleased my spouse, family, church, or employer. No, God made me, on purpose, as a whole individual with preferences and feelings and rights. I had dignity because He created me, myself, in His image. This epiphany was my rebirth. I started saying no to people who were taking advantage of my yes. I started setting boundaries and dreaming dreams. I started standing up to my husband, pointing out legitimate needs that had gone unmet for years. He didn’t behave any differently, but my confidence increased as I climbed, hand over hand, out of the pit of being everyone’s doormat. Because of that sacred time in my life, when my ex finished wiping his feet all over me and walked out, I was secure enough – in God and in myself – to let him go. No matter what anyone thought, I knew I had fought the good fight and kept the faith. That his choices were his own responsibility, not mine.

That was the beginning.

In many ways, after my divorce, I had to learn who I was all over again. I had to give myself permission to swing too far the other way, trusting that God would catch me in the middle. The same is true about speaking up. I have to risk overdoing it sometimes to drown out my programming. I just concluded two years with a wonderful Wednesday night small group, full of honest, fun, flawed people like me. Even within that safe community, I went home many Wednesday nights thinking, I talked too much (i.e. maybe two or three contributions). I shouldn’t have said that. I should have been more delicate about that. No one needs my input anyway. It’s the same with my writing. Everyone else has already said this better. No one cares. Someone will disapprove. The fact is, someone always will disapprove, but we all have to make our peace with that.

I can’t stay quiet and meek anymore; now the battle is preventing myself from disclaiming or apologizing after making any sort of strong statement. Last week during a discussion in Sunday School, I said some honest things in front of several elders and immediately thought, Great job, you just flagged yourself as trouble! But I resisted backtracking, and it felt great. Because, like Joey Tribbiani, I wasn’t even sorry. I want to stop hiding my light under a bushel. There are times to do that in a spirit of caring and sensitivity, but it’s not a good approach to life in general.

Sometimes I fear that with every step I take toward boldness, I’m considered less and less of a (re)marriage prospect. Plenty of strong Christian men don’t want to be with a passionate woman who knows her own mind, no matter how humble she is (unless they like the challenge of “taming” her, which is sick beyond belief). But I’d rather live alone and free than partnered in a cage, if those are my only options. God can fill me however He wants, but my days of being an empty vessel for another human are long over.

5 Comments + Posted in: faith, womanhood

This year is the first time I’ve bought season tickets to Tiger football as well as basketball. I also get to tailgate with Kathy and Daniel at Tiger Lane all season (which is almost more exciting to me than the game – I’m less obsessive passionate about football). Their friends from their son’s school have a spot and are graciously letting me hang out.

Saturday was our first game, against Duke, and Tiger Lane was packed. We saw tents set up in the parking lots all the way to Central, and a long row of RVs. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve officially arrived!

Unfortunately, our defensive line couldn’t play the entire game, so we lost 28-14. But it was a (comparatively) good showing and excitement about the team is still high. Memphis is a basketball town, so our football expectations remain low, making us easy to please.

Oh and I got a hit of deja vu watching the band’s halftime show – part of the drill was eerily similar to my senior year opener in high school. Yes, there are only so many field formations, but I really wonder if one of my former bandmates is writing drill for them.

In related news, the heat has finally arrived after Labor Day. Yesterday was officially the hottest day of the year (glad it wasn’t my imagination). It’s a small price to pay for such a pleasant summer, but it sure makes it hard to comprehend fall. I’m ready to enjoy my new hammock! My old hammock was unraveling after seven years (a respectable life), so I found a good end-of-season deal on a new one. I hung it yesterday and it felt like laying on a cloud! I didn’t realize how rough those old ropes had gotten.

Add a Comment + Posted in: summer, tigers

Thanks to everyone who entered the Myla Smith Hiding Places giveaway! The lucky winners are:

2 Comments + Posted in: giveaway, music

My favorite thing about jewelry is its history and meaning. Even when you buy it for yourself, it’s often to celebrate an occasion. In this new series, I’ll tell the stories of some of my most meaningful jewelry! The logical place to start is with my favorite piece – my Hope ring.

Sometime in 2002 (or 2003, I’m not sure), I was browsing the Pauline Catholic bookstore, probably for a gift for one of my Catholic BFFs. On my way to the register, I noticed a display of simple silver bands engraved with FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE. They were clearly meant to be worn as a set. I loved the idea, but couldn’t afford all three (I could barely afford milk at the time). After a few minutes’ pondering, I decided on HOPE. I think my reasoning was that if I was going to wear one of the three graces, hope was the one I needed reminding of the most.

Well, I still need that constant reminder on my hand. In fact, if I ever get a tattoo, it should probably be hope-related.

Over the past ten-plus years, my Hope ring has symbolized so many different hopes. Some were fulfilled, some faded away, some came true and then untrue. Some still sit there, unchanged. But the ring is my common thread. It reminds me of the source of my hopes, and my ultimate hope. It’s my talisman. It’s not fancy or flashy, just solid and reliable. I can wear it everywhere and it never wears out.

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.”
– Lamentations 3:21-24

1 Comment + Posted in: hope, jewelry, memory lane