My latest addiction

Back in the 90s, when Capri pants first came back in style, I hated them. Despised them. Thought they were the dumbest thing I’d ever seen.

Then there were Macs. Uh, you mean the same outdated devices I used in second grade with the green flashing cursor? I don’t think so. Microsoft’s got the market cornered.

And more recently, Facebook. Don’t even get me started on Facebook. A pretentious site for the “I’m much too sophisticated for MySpace” crowd.


All of these things were silly fads not worthy of my attention. That was, of course, until I adopted them all as my own.

I’m what communications scholar Everett Rogers would label a late majority adopter (my comm profs would be so proud!) AND I HATE THAT.

When it comes to all things trendy, I always start to think something’s cool long after the real trendsetters have moved on to something else. I’m such a loser!

And now it’s happened again.

I’ve been revolting against Twitter for months now – claiming it to be a ginormous waste of time and completely narcissistic. I couldn’t see the point.

Until this week. At the urging of several people much cooler than I’ll ever be, I started playing with it — and now I’m completely and utterly addicted. Every time I say something that makes me laugh or I find particularly clever (Yes… I am my biggest fan), I think, “Oooh, I should put that on Twitter.”

It’s really quite pathetic. I’m limiting myself to four tweets a day, just so I don’t come across as completely self-centered or desperate for attention. That may be the reality, but I certainly don’t want the cool kids on Twitter to know.

And like every good addict, I’m not just using. I’m pushing.

This morning, as I sat in Starbucks sipping my latte — yes, the same drink I used to declare the overpriced version of what I could easily buy at Speedway —I sang the wonders of Twitter to our university chaplain. With heartfelt conviction, I did my best to convince Chap Daddy that this is the best way for him to be an effective minister to the lost.

So yes, I’m a Twittering fool. But this is it. I mean it. This will be the LAST trend I jump on board with late in the game.

Unless everybody’s doing it.

www.twitter.com/quiteaday

How Nazarene are you?

I'm not a big fan of Facebook quizzes. If you've sent them to me, I've probably ignored them. I don't care what 80s sitcom character I am, what book best represents me, or what my stripper name would be.

But I saw one the other day that intrigued me. "How Nazarene are you?" Hmm.... this might be interesting, I thought.

So I took it. And after successfully answering basic questions about our church structure and history, I was declared a "Manuel Memorizer." Wow! Who knew?

I must admit, though, I was a little disappointed. Who cares if I know how many general superintendents we have or how often General Assembly takes place? Anybody can figure those out. (No offense to Stephanie, who bombed the test).

No, I think there's much more complexity in identifying a purebred Nazarene. Ask yourself these questions:

• Did your mom shed a tear or two when she ironed your Phineas S. Bresee award on your Caravan scarf?


• Have you driven out of town to watch a perfectly clean movie, so that no one would see you?


• When your friends start swapping stories about random celebrity run-ins, do you tell about the time you saw a general superintendent buying doughnuts at the grocery store?


• Did you hold two receptions for your wedding -- one for the church, and the other a secret celebration with you and your dancing friends?


• Do you own a collection of polyester dresses from your years on the Impact team?


• When you hear the letters NYC, do you think of massive teen gathering instead of a major U.S. city?


• (For women only) Do you remember a time when you couldn't wear pants to church because it was too provocative?


• (For men only) Have you ever felt guilty for staring at a provocative woman who was wearing pants to church?


• After years in teen Bible quizzing, do you still twitch your right butt cheek when you want to be the first to answer a question?


• If a short-cut in the grocery store meant going through the alcohol aisle, would you take the longer route just so no one thinks you've backslidden?


• Are you excited that this year's family vacation will be in Orlando, because you've seen just about all there is to see in Indianapolis?


• Have you calculated which direction you need to turn to face Kansas City when praying?


• When you're telling someone what part of the country you're from, do you automatically include the name of the nearest Nazarene college or university?


• When the song leader announces you'll be singing "Called Unto Holiness," do you set down the hymnal because you already know the words?


• Do any of your children have Wesley as a first or middle name?


• Do the highlights of your social calendar revolve around a potluck dinner or Old Country Buffet?

If you answered "Yes" to five or more of these questions, congratulations!

You are officially Nazarene through and through, and I'll see you in Orlando.

When I think of M-O-T-H-E-R

I had the distinct pleasure of singing with my mom at at mother-daughter banquet Friday night.

It all started when our ladies council president asked if anyone knew any songs about moms, and I said I'd heard one before. At the time, I didn't know any of the words, except, "M is for the million things she gave me." That qualified me to research and sing the song.

Thanks to ever faithful informational highway, I found it... and it was terrible. Here's the first verse:

I've been around the world, you bet, but never went to school. Hard knocks are all I seem to get, perhaps I've been a fool; But still, some educated folks, supposed to be so swell, Would fail if they were called upon a simple word to spell.

The composer then goes on to sing the traits of his beloved madre, each line beginning with the letters which spell out M-O-T-H-E-R. I'm sure it was touching in 1915 when it was first written, but it left me unimpressed.

Agreeing it was lame, my mom and I decided to write our own lyrics, updated for the women of 2009. (Watch here)

I don't know if anyone else really found our song funny, but we cracked each other up. And the process of writing and performing our song reminded me of just how special my mother really is.
So, sparing any form of spelling theme or alliteration, here's what I think of when I think of my mother:

- A woman who was widely known as the coolest counselor at kids camp.

- A woman whose vocal talent I first became aware of when my 4th grade music teacher told me she had the loveliest Soprano voice he'd ever heard.

- A woman who made the best with what she had, sewing us clothes throughout elementary school and convincing us they were stylish.

- A woman who treated Bible quizzing like an extreme sport.

- A woman who came to every single basketball game I ever played, no matter how busy she was.

-A woman who modeled what it means to love God's Word, as day after day, I'd find her pouring over the pages of her Bible.

- A woman who knows how to make the piano sing.

- A woman who never gives up the faith, no matter what life throws at her.

- A woman who always has a hug, a kiss and a sucker for my daughter.

- A woman who makes me laugh, and is there to hold me when I cry.

- A woman who I count as my dearest friend.

Happy (belated) Mother's Day, mom. I love you!

Feasting on Manna

I've been thinking a lot about Egypt lately.

No, not the pyramids, or even the Bangles' monster hit of the 80s.

I've been thinking about the way God delivered the Israelites from their bondage in Egypt, only to have them gripe about His methods every step of the way.

It used to be that when I'd read the pages of Exodus, I'd think, "You morons! Quit your complaining." I mean, God split the Red Sea, for crying out loud! You would think such an awesome experience would cause them to think twice before squawking about how hot it was in desert, or how bland the the manna tasted.

Now, I don't read it quite the same way ... because I think I would have done the exact same thing.

It's amazing, really, how petty I can be in light of all God's goodness. After all the things He's given me, and after all the amazing ways He's worked in my life, I'm still prone to freaking out whenever things look bleak. And then when He answers my prayers, I lament how it's not exactly the answer I was looking for.

Silly Israelites. Silly me. When will we ever learn?

And so I'm trying to do better about that. Trying to trust and trying to be grateful, on my way to the Promised Land.