The stars at night are big and bright (clap, clap, clap, clap) …

… deep in the heart of Texas!

In addition to reading to me every night as a child, my dad would often sing to me as well, and I distinctly remember requesting the “perfume” song many a night … “The sage in bloom is like perfume (clap, clap, clap, clap) deep in the heart of Texas.”

I just got back on Friday from my whirlwind tour of Texas, visiting family and friends from Amarillo to San Angelo (with Lubbock and Abilene in between). Four different stops all on or around my birthday meant four different birthday celebrations and even four different birthday cakes! My mom went a little Texas crazy in regard to presents, giving me a Texas flag blanket, Texas salt and pepper shakers, a Texas notepad, etc. I guess she figures this way I won’t forget my home once I’m over 1000 miles away. I was most amused by a little book she gave me entitled “100 Great Things About Texas.” Here’s a fun sampling:

Great Thing #34: Sticky Situation – West Texas women know not to wear lip gloss during a dust storm.

Great Thing #43: Even the Kids Don’t Mind – Everybody ought to have a chance to get their picture taken in a field of bluebonnets. (Yep, my mom has the pics to prove it.)

Great Thing #48: Abilene, Abilene – Most Texas cities have at least one country song named for them. (Oh, if you don’t know, you should! Ask me sometime, and I’ll play it for you … “Abilene, Abilene, prettiest town I’ve ever seen. The women there don’t treat you mean in Abilene.”)

Great Thing #51: See Texas First – You can go to the mountains, the beach, the forest, the lake, or the desert without ever leaving the state.

Great Thing #67: Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap – The stars at night really are big and bright.

Great Thing #78: Drive Friendly – It’s a courtesy in Texas for drivers to pull over to the shoulder to let a faster driver pass. And to acknowledge the courteous act with a wave of the hand or a tap of the brake lights. (Again, yep. On this trip alone, I was both the pass-er and pass-ee, and both gave and received the courtesy wave.)

Great Thing #92: It Rubs off on You – If you’re from Texas, you’re always from Texas. (And I have the presents to prove it.)

Let me make a disclaimer …

This post has a point which I plan to get to, but in the mean time I’m going to revert back to my old school blog days and interject some random thoughts here at the beginning.  

•  I really enjoy reading other people’s blogs.  I’ve said on several occasions to some of my favorite people that I wish they kept a blog so I could keep up with them and have a little more insight into their brilliant minds.  There are a handful of blogs I check every day, and I’m pretty disappointed when weeks and weeks go by with no update.  Then I realized that I am disappointing myself.  There are plenty of things I’m itching to write about, but for various reasons (some valid) I put it off.  I guess it’s a little late for new year’s resolutions, but perhaps one of mine should be to write more.  That is, before all my writing is for class …
• In addition to my relatively significant amount of free time (in comparison to next year), I also just got a new laptop which leaves me doubly without excuse!  No more sitting in my office late at night crafting the perfect blog; I can update in a house, by a mouse, with a louse, or wherever I feel most inspired.  
• So in preparation for next year (or tomorrow in Oklahoma), I’ve been told I need to start stocking up on the winter accessories.  Tonight I bought a new teal (that’s right, teal; it’s perhaps my favorite color) coat for $14.  And it’s Clinique bonus time at Dillard’s.  That has nothing to do with winter weather; I just wanted to share.
• Also wanted to share … the new Shawn McDonald album comes out next Tuesday, and you can listen to the whole thing (albeit with some weird “New Music Tuesday” techno sounding overlays occasionally throughout) here right now.

Okay, for the real subject of this post.  Lately I caught myself saying (and have noticed others saying as well) when discussing certain books, music or movies something like, “I don’t agree with everything he/she says, but …” or “There’s some questionable content, but …” and then proceed with my main point or purpose in discussing said piece of art.  Now it’s one thing to seriously care for the impressionableness of others, especially those younger than me that I perhaps feel some sort of pastoral obligation to.  However, what I’ve come to discern in myself is that those words have much more to do with how I think others will perceive me rather than concern for impressionability.

These disclaimers are actually a cop out, a “get out of judgement free card.”  I can cater my responses to whom I am around, always careful not to offend, or what’s worse in my mind, be misunderstood.  I can’t trust my audience to discern my heart or give grace; I tend to feel that more explanation is needed.  

I used to be a bold person, sometimes to a fault.  And while I think that years passed have left behind some much needed humility, I am now less bold, also to a fault.  Last year I faced a difficult situation resulting in a difficult conversation in which I came to terms with my own fear of making mistakes.  There are sinful mistakes which I want to avoid at all costs, but there are benign mistakes too, and those are incredible opportunities to grow.  In that situation I realized that I never wanted to make mistakes which was leading to stagnation.  I was so prideful and fearful of losing face and contradicting myself that I held back and missed out on experiences and conversations I think I was meant to have.  And not just in that situation, in life.  I cared/care too much what others think. 

I recently came across a quote in one of those blogs I frequent every day that inspired a little more boldness in me.  Not everything I think or say will be right or good, but I am in process.  Many things should shape my thoughts and words, but people’s perception of me should not be one of them.  From Art and Fear, by David Bayles and Ted Orland, “Catering to fears of being misunderstood leaves you dependent upon your audience.  In the simplest yet most daring scenario, ideas are diluted to what you imagine your audience can imagine, leading to work that is condescending, arrogant, or both.  Worse yet, you discard your own highest vision in the process.”