Boxes

So I'm an ISFJ. Introverted, Sensing, Feeling, Judging. I'm a Protector Guardian. I go about my task of caretaking modestly, unassumingly, and because of this my efforts are supposedly not sometimes fully appreciated. According to keirsey.com, my ideal job is as follows:
"With their extraordinary commitment to security, and with their unusual talent for executing routines, Protectors do well in many careers that have to do with conservation: curators, private secretaries, librarians, middle-managers, police officers, and especially general medical practitioners. To be sure, the hospital is a natural haven for them; it is home to the family doctor, preserver of life and limb, and to the registered nurse, or licensed practical nurse, truly the angels of mercy. The insurance industry is also a good fit for Protectors. To save, to put something aside against an unpredictable future, to prepare for emergencies-these are important actions to Protectors, who as insurance agents want to see their clients in good hands, sheltered and protected."
Well, I don't want to be a librarian. Or a middle-manager. Or a police officer, or a doctor. I've decided that I don't really like these types of classifications.
One of my favorite artists, Fabian Perez doesn't like to categorize his worke because it "limits the artist as well as the work." This is how I feel having personality tests or types put on me. It is limiting.

So then I think of God. What personality type would He be? What was Jesus? Was He the Protector Guardian, or was he something else? I sometimes treat God like one of my friends. I put Him in a nice little box and try not to let Him out. And then when He "acts out" or does something that I'm not expecting, it throws me off.
But why do I put the LORD in a box anyway? He is the one who created boxes, He created me. If He truly is the Creator of the Universe and everything within it, why would I want to put Him in a stupid little box? It's limiting. And dumb.

Let Jesus out of the box to play.

I Serve an Artistic God

My great-grandmother would be ashamed of me.
Grandma Bessy was as old as Methuslea-or so I though at the age of four. Wrinkely, grey-haired, and tall, she was a whopping 90 some-odd years old, not to mention a great cook. Anything and everything would be fried in bacon grease or lard. Once a month my family would drive the one hour to Orville, California, to see her and her husband.
Grandma Bessy was a Baptist of the strictest kind: no drinking, no dancing, no singin' too loud. She was horrified when she found out that Nyquil was 70 proof.
So why would she be ashamed of me? Well, dear reader, I'll tell you.
I danced in church. Yep. In church.
Calvary Chapel Petaluma has this thing called First Fridays. It is a nightime worship night on the frist Friday of every month. Pretty sweet if I do say so myself. So I was there, getting my song on, and I found myself moving. Its not a full-out wild jungle dance, more like a slight hopping and swaying to the music. I've found that its hard for me not to move whenever I hear music. Especially when I'm singing with all my heart.
I've decided there is nothing wrong about dancing. There is no Old Testament law that I am aware of that makes it wrong. King David danced when the Ark of the Covenant was brought to Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6). Pslam 150 says, "Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp! Praise him with timbrel and dance; praise him with strings and pipe!" I've decided that God is artistic.
So if I can dance and show my love for the LORD, why would it be different if I were to write a song about Him or to paint something that brought me to a closer relationship with Him? Is not our God a God of creativity? Did He not create the world and all that is in it? He made the sun to shine during the day and the moon at night, complete with beautiful sunrises and sunsets each time. If I paint a sunset with the LORD in mind, is that not worship?
My youth pastor Matt once said something that made me laugh. Only now do I understand what he was trying to say. He said, "Eat your Cherrioes with God in mind" (it was later modified to brushing your teeth with God in mind). Either way, if we are to laugh or to enjoy a good steak with the LORD in our minds and in our hearts, we still can worship the LORD. Is not even writing a form of worship? Speaking to others about God? Caring for the widows and the orphans? There is more than one way to skin a cat. There also is more than one way to worship a creative God.

Unsorted WHAT?

Dear Friends,

I know that you desperately look at my blog every day for some sort of insight, but this is all I've got for you today. Check out this blog. Maybe it will help. Or at least get a couple of laughs.

Love,
Tamsen

Musical Monday! Featured this Week: T-Pain Low

So I was sitting in my room the other day and one of my roommate's music was playing. To my horror, I found myself singing the lyrics to T-Pain's new hit Low. Here are the lyrics. I will translate after each line as needed.

T-Pain Low

H h h h h let
me to talk to ya
let me to talk to ya
mh h h h h let
me to talk to ya

come on
shortie had them apple bottom jeans (jeans)
*apple bottom jeans as defined on urbandictionary.com: Fashionable denim for women with voluptuous, curvaceous posteriors.*
boots with the fur (with the fur)
the whole club was lookin at her
she hit the floor (she hit the floor)
*Dance like wild*
next thing you know
shorty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low
*dropping low to the ground, bumping and grinding*

them baggy sweat pants
and the reboks with the straps (with the straps)
she turn around and gave that big booty a smack(heyyy)
*Oh yes, these really are the words*
she hit the floor (she hit the floor)
next thing you know
shorty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low (come on)

So right after these words emitted from my mouth, I was shocked at what I had just particpated in. I am a young woman who professes to follow the teachings of Jesus. Pretty sure that He would not want me to be listening to lyrics like that, much less singing them.
Even just to think about what they are saying-A man is in a club, sees a little hottie with a nice butt, and watches her voyeristically. Walks up to her in his gangster outfit (sweat pants and the Reboks with the straps), and spanks the girl. Way to objectify women.
So I'm not much of a feminist, the extent of my femininst philosophy agrees with Mary Woolstencraft and her Rights and Vindications of Women. To sum it up, she basically says that women were simply brainless breeders who were taught to think only of who they were to marry and what to wear the next day. On special occasions they would think about tea. This was the 18th Century, after all.
So what have today's women been reduced to? Yet again, they are mindless. But instead of being something pretty to look at, they are now something to play with. I am not a toy! I am more than a set of hips. I have a mind, feelings, and emotions. I prefer to be treated accordingly.
Sorry for getting all preacher on ya'll, but I feel that this is something that I have slipped into. Jesus said to be in the world but not of it. By listening to this song and singing along to the words, I have participated in it. The world and I were one. I have subjected myself to what the world thinks of me, forgetting what my Creator thinks.
So I encourage you, Dear Reader, to take into consideration what I have said. Go forth and clean out your music files. The next one I promise not to preach. :D

A Shakespearean Observation

I think the boy sitting two seats down from me in my Shakespeare class has been ostracised. He is one of our resident theatre kids. There are five of them in this class, they all sit in the back corner and laugh at all the nerdy theatre jokes they make. All up until Wednesday.
On Wednesday, the pale, boyish looking young man sat two seats down from me at the end of the row, the furthest distance away from the others. He had arrived early today, and as the others walked into class, there were no exchanged greetings, eye contact was avoided by both parties. He sits, keeping his eyes on the Othello manuscript. A girl sits next to him, he says hello. He returns to the text.

Handouts, Pizza, and Wiggly Hair

Handouts, Pizza, and Wiggly Hair. This is what happened at the Pray Family Household Sunday night. It was the unofficial reunion for "Season 1 College Groupers" as Carly called it. There were a few exceptions to the rule, mainly myself and two other guys. Needless to say, I was rewarded the standing of "Season 1.5."
So Tamsen, What is up with that title? Well, Dear Reader, I will tell you. The Prays fed us pizza. Honestly, what else would you serve a bunch of college students for dinner? Little Ceasar's did the job and our bellies were filled. Desert was complete with a re-gifted tin of fancy popcorn from my father which he had recieved from one of his sixth grade students. Kate also contributed to this fun gathering by making cake mix cookes. They were a hit!

The Wiggly Hair is a combined effort from Jon, Carly, and Kate. Carly wants a perm, but not the one that everyone's 90 year old grandma has that is obioulsy fake. She wants a hybrid wave/curl thing to go on, and Kate produced the exact visual she needed. When asked what he thought of this visual, Jon said, "Carly, you mean like wiggly hair?" Yes, wiggly hair. Thus the phrase will stand in infamy for all of eternity. Thank you, Jon!

And I realize that I have yet to explain the Handouts section of the title. Just you wait! Here it is: Carly, in the later hours of the get together, was feeling a little burst of spring cleaning coming on early. So that is what she did. She ransacked her closet and decided to give away some clothes that she didn't wear any more! Of course we all want free things, so the girls and I grab what we can. Amanda comes away with the most, and proceeds to wear it-all at the same time. She had on about four shirts and two and a half sweaters before things got too warm for her liking. I came out of it with a "funky fresh" courdoroy blue jacket with chunky faux-fur lining from Old Navy, a pair of mom shoes, a somewhat bizzare vase that will find its way mystereously into my kitchen, and a pretty cool little candle that will suddenly appear in my living room.

As I sit and type about some of my favorite people, I think how blessed I am to have them in my life. Where else would I find such inspiration for great titles?

There they are: Jon, Cameron, Macy, and Carly.

The Tongue

There are three things that I envision the tongue to be like:


a fruit tree,


a ship,


and a sword.

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat of its fruit" (Proverbs 18:21). Those who love it will eat of its fruit. I sometimes forget how much weight I put into my words. With this tongue of mine, I give blessings and promises. And with it I spout lies and gossip. When I think about fruit, I think about my parent's backyard. My dad has planted on their little half acre over 30 fruit trees in close proximity (so they do not get tall enough so he needs a ladder to reach the top). One of the few trees that remains from the previous owners is a peach tree. The summer we moved into the house, it produced peaches the size of softballs by the hundreds. They were big, they were juicy, they were sweet. Such a pleasant offering. But this past summer, the opposite happened. The old gnarled tree got sick. We do not know how or when. We only found out when the peaches came. Slightly larger than the size of a golf ball, they too came by the hundreds. Somewhat disappointed by their small size, I took one off the branches in hopes that it would have enough flesh on it to satisfy. When I brought it into the kitchen to cut it open, I saw that it was riddled with brown spots. Upon opening it, my knife went straight through the pit, finding it rotten to the core.
Are my words like the peaches from the first summer? Do they satisfy and sustain? Or are my words like the sick peaches, ready to bring ill upon those who "eat of them?"
The tongue is like a ship. "...though they are so great and driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very strong rudder wherever the pilot directs" (James 3:4). Such a small part directs the whole of me. With this tongue of mine, I can direct to do good or to do evil, to build up or destroy.
The tongue is like a double edged sword. "There is one whose rash words are like the sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing" (Proverbs 12:18). "Blows that wound cleanse away evil; strokes make clean the innermost parts" (Proverbs 20:30). A sword thrust can only puncture, and punctures do no good to a person. A stroke of a sword is able to scoop out evil, keeping the healthy parts of the body.
Let your words be fruitful and satisfy those who hear. Let your words be a guide to yourself as well as those around you. Let your words be as a skilled swordsman, direct and cleansing. May the words of our mouths be acceptable in His sight.

Change and Movement

Picture this: It was yesterday around 2:30 PM. I was sitting in my least favorite class of the semester. Women and Gender Studies. With a focus on The Individual, Sexuality, and the Family Unit. What it really translates to is a study of transgenderism, gays, women power, and an open mic for man haters.
One thing our professor had us do at the beginning of the semester was repeated yesterday. She had us write down our vision of the perfect community (or world) and what it needs. This time she added on two more questions at the end, what our motivation for fixing the needs of the world are, and also what keeps us from doing these things. Here is what I wrote.

My vision for the world: A world that recognizes the need for a Savior. That they need Jesus. The Love of the Father motivates me to act.
The needs of the world: Repentance and faith. The forgiveness of sins. The greatest source of suffereing is our own selfish, sinful natures.
My motivation for change: I know the Love of the LORD. I know it endures. I know that His words bring healing and conviction, forgiveness and grace. Knowing the LORD moves me to act.
What is stopping me: Sin. Fear of Man. Comfort. Selfishness. The feeling of being overwhelmed.

As I was thinking about what I wrote, I remembered that the same exact thing was written in the begining of the year. For what really is the point of change if it is not for the LORD? If we do things out of love for the Father, they will come out much better than if they are done out of selfish ambitions or altruism. The LORD is what changes and moves in the hearts of believers, and through believers God changes and moves the hearts of the lost.

Things I Enjoy-For Philip

Saturdays
Ice Cream
Icees
Sewing
Fresh Laundry
Brushing my teeth
Flowers
Music
Singing
Photography
Reading



CS Lewis
The Bible
The Sunrise
The Beach
Lake Tahoe
Snow
My Family
Kate
Shannon
Baking
Being Neat
Serving
Children
Loving Others
Stationery
Laughter



Shoes
Sweaters
Funny Sounds
Traveling
People Watching
Having a Garden
Writing
Praying
Knowing God
Redemption
Warm Socks
Driving in Silence
Cooking



Bike Rides
Train Stations
Airports
Myth Busters
My Roommates
Deep Conversations
Seeing God in Others
Mail
Naps
Opposed Thumbs
Being Creative
Costa Rica



Thinking about moving to Denver
Teaching
English
Tea
Coffee
Cakes
Cafes
Helping People
Frebreeze
Frisbee
Hot Chocolate
Talking of God
Hiking
the Guitar




Dancing
Fixing Things
Being Outside
Being by Myself
Being with People
Dogs
Ice Water
Recycling
Nalgene Bottles
Smelly Soaps
Long Shadows
Bread
Boy Bands
Nutella
Tea Cups
Grits
Good Books
Rainy Days
Movie Marathons
Crisp Mornings
Clean Houses
Impressionism
Simple Practical Theology
Feeding People




Singing Songs Really Loud
Big Cities
Watching Jen Watch Football
Costco
Pea Coats
Old Songs

Ask Your Barista for Details

As I am sitting in Starbucks with a pumpkin spice latte attempting to edit an essay, I look up from my computer and see the following words: “Today’s Song Is: Ask Your Barista for Details.”
This seems peculiar to me. If they have the “Today’s Song” sign, why would they not change it to actually read what the song of the day was? Why should I bother myself with asking someone if I have the possibility of having no interaction with humans and just looking on a board?
Sometimes I feel like this is the way I treat God. “Alright God, what will the blessing of the day be?” Well, Tam, you gotta ask him to find out. Not that God necessarily blesses us every day with some big, profound, life-changing thing, but could it be something as simple as the voice of a mockingbird, a good laugh with a friend, an opportunity to serve? Is it not even a blessing to breathe or to see a sunset? To feel the wind in your face and touch the leaves fallen to the ground?
I encourage you, Dear Reader, to seek God in the little things. Feel free to ask your barista for the details. Its quite helpful.

This is my favorite Barista.