Wednesday Weigh-In #2 (no scale required!)

Good morning, world! And welcome to the Wednesday Weigh-In.

Wow, that sounded waaayyy too cheery for 7:28 a.m. on a Wednesday. But… that’s sort of how I feel. And it’s surprising, after a night of thunderstorms that were so loud that they drowned out my True Love’s snoring, that I could “good morning, world” anything, but… I’m feeling strangely chipper today. So on with the show!

The purpose of the Wednesday Weigh In is to voice a thought, quote, or happening in your, my, or our world and to give each other feedback without fear.  Maybe that’s what we should call it instead: Feedback Without Fear. Hmm…

Today’s topic is: Feedback Without Fear.

So what is feedback? As someone who has worked around electronic amplification equipment for most of my life, I can tell you that the first thing that comes into my mind is a loud, screeching wail of “get your dangly metallic earrings away from that mic, Doofus!” or “Hey, Genius! Don’t point the mic toward the monitors!”

But that high pitched screach is not all feedback is. As with so many words in our complex English language, “feedback” has multiple definitions.

What does it mean to me?

To me, this phrase is one that invokes intellectual safety. Not in the sense that I’m holding back to avoid some sort of negative backlash, but in that I am free to express how I think or feel about a topic, (hopefully in an inoffensive ,but uncensored way) with the goal of increasing another’s (and possibly my own) understanding of a topic.

It’s a little like Debate Club, but without a team or scorecard. Feedback Without Fear is individual; but, like Debate, in which you have to come into a conversation armed with both sides of an argument but unsure of which side you’re going to be on until the coin is flipped, FEEDBACK WITHOUT FEAR, is a place where intellectual stimulation allows you to open your mind and consider possibilities. And unlike Debate, you get to choose your own position.

Feedback, when referenced as a term of conversation, is most often seen through the lens of critique. When we ask for “feedback” on a particular product, piece of writing, creative performance, etc., we are looking for either:

1. Fresh, new views toward a tired old subject; a fresh perspective on a problem or quandary.

2. Areas of possible improvement (aka: constructive criticism. I hate that term. Always have. But that’s another blog post and/or therapy session.)

or 3.Someone to tell us what we already know. As in, “Dude. That was awesome.”  OR “Dude. I’m pretty sure you do not have a future as a professional ukulele player. Sorry.”

So what do you think of when people ask for feedback? Do you get all tense inside and try to frame your words just so so you don’t hurt someone’s feelings? or do you feel open to saying how you really feel, regardless of who it might hurt? Do you speak the truth in love? Or do you hide the truth out of embarrassment?

If you’ve answered “yes” to all of the questions, then welcome to my world. I’ve done all those things, too.

I’d like this blog to be a place where people feel “safe” to leave their feedback about… darn near anything… without fear. But with respect. What do you think? Is it possible?

I appreciate your *honest * feedback!

Serena

Dear Genie: “All I really want is world peace…”

And the Genie in the Lamp says, “LIAR!!!!”

Yep. I’m way more shallow than that. I’m not proud of it. But there it is. Besides, as nice as it sounds, “world peace ” would put a whole lotta people out of work, y’know? and I don’t want to be responsible for sending the economy of this great nation even further down the toilet. So, rather than wish for something that won’t come until after the second coming (and no, I’m not about to argue the timeline of those events with you), I’m going to rub my imaginary lamp and wish for some things that are a little more attainable.

But I’m not going to limit it to three wishes — because in SERENA WORLD there are no limits. (There are, however, lots of rainbows, hunky pirates, and chocolate fountains in Serena World, but no limits. It’s a beautiful place. But you have to be in my head to get there, and that, my friends, is a scary ride.)

Whew! Did you make it back from that tangent alive? Well then… on with the show!

I first got to thinking about making this list by reading my friend Joy’s blog. Who got the idea from reading her friend Deanna’s blog. So, I guess you could say that this post is either a third generation idea,. Either that, or it’s a copycat brand of creative thievery. Hmm…. Let’s go with number one, shall we? It seems the least likely to require me to hire a lawyer. So… (drum roll, please) … here’s my wish list for the Summer 2011.

During the Summer of 2011, I, Serena Chase, hope to:

1.  Land a new agent without losing my mind.  This is a way boring, waayyyy stressful item on my wish list. I just re-started the search in May, after letting the old agent go last October.  But… onward and upward toward getting that novel in your hands!

2. Dip a short stack of Pringles Potato Chips in melted chocolate and see if it is as delicious as I think it could be.  Don’t knock my culinary awesomeness. If you can dip a pretzel, you can dip a Pringle. Or better, a stack o’ Pringles. I’m just sayin’.

3. Attend the 111th Annual Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa.  It sounds totally kooky, right? I just love kooky. I once veered off the interstate, under a tornado watch, to visit the world’s only Mustard Museum– so I’m no stranger to kooky on a road trip. Besides, my ten year old recently read an article about the hobo convention and is totally stoked. What can I say? She’s into hobos. I’m hoping it’s a phase, not a career choice. But everybody needs a dream.

4.  Beam myself up to Trek Fest XXVII in Riverside, Iowa. Yes, you read that right. Trek Fest: held in “the future birthplace of Captain James T. Kirk.” But before you violently spit out your Dr. Pepper at your computer screen, let me add this disclaimer: I am not, I repeat NOT a trekkie. I hated watching that show with my brother and my dad when I was a kid (although I will admit to loving the newer Chris Pine movie version.) But Trek Fest is the closest thing to a Comic-Con we have in Iowa and my (silent) mockometer needs a recharge. To be honest, I’m just dying to see a bunch of people walking around wearing Spock Ears and Klingon costumes.  Seriously. I can only imagine the joy my sarcasmo-mockometer will register if I do, indeed, attend this event. The trick will be getting my daughters (and myself) to remember that the sarcasmo-mockometer read out should be silent. I mean, I wouldn’t want to insult someone and have them realize their Vulcan Brain Explosion trick doesn’t really work. No one needs reality to hit them that violently. (And keep in mind that this being written by the same girl who longs to attend the Renaissance Faire in full-on pirate garb.)

5. Clean & organize my house.  Seriously, I mean. Filing, vacuuming the edges and scrubbing pretty much everything– basically, I need to turn my house inside-out. I’ve had fleeting moments when I wished for rogue thieves to break in and steal everything we don’t need. Unfortunately, it has been my experience that those are the only things they don’t steal. Plus, they break things and make a worse mess with what they leave behind — so… sigh… guess I have to clean.

6. Knock out the wall between my kitchen and living room. I’m dying to do this.  But scared out of my MIND. We are the kind of DIYers that could end up on  Renovation Realities. We have no skills at all. This could go really, really, badly. Like, electrocution, saw-your-arm-off badly. But… I want that wall GONE!!! Now where’d I put that heavy mallet thingy with the long wooden handle…?

7. Plan a beach vacation. I had hoped to take a beach vacation this summer, but the budget’s too tight. The best I can do is PLAN. We’re thinking Christmas on a warm beach. Why not????? Suggestions???

8. Finish reading the stack of books on my books-for-review list. First up, POMPEII. It’s coming. I’m about 1/6 of the way into it. I could move down my list a lot faster, however, if the vacuum-cleaner salesmen wouldn’t steal 2-1/2 hours of my afternoon trying to sell me a $2100 vacuum cleaner in a summer when attending the flippin’ Hobo Convention is the most exciting adventure on my list!  Seriously??? 2-1/2 hours????  I don’t think he appreciated my parting comment, “Well, you’re not getting a sale here, bud, but if nothing else, you got to pull all the rabbits out of your hat and practice your skills!” Got more of a snarl than a smile. Apparently not an optimist, that one.

9.  Go see Captain Jack Sparrow in the theater.  ’nuff said. The Tourist was a tad disappointing, so I haven’t gotten a good Johnny Depp fix in a while. Plus, I sorta love pirates. A lot. I’m writing about pirates right now, so I guess we could call it “research”. Does the IRS allow movie ticket write offs? Oh. Didn’t think so.  ”Oh, Geeeenieeeee….”

10. Take my kids to the drive-in movie theater. It’s only about a 30 minute drive from here and shows a double feature every weekend. So what’s keeping me from going???? The fact that it doesn’t start until after dark. And then we have to drive home through 30 minutes of some of the most deer-crossed highway in the state. And I’m old. And I get sleepy much earlier than I used to. But it would be fun– if I could stay awake.

11. Learn to play “Stairway to Heaven” on the ukulele. Okay, I’m totally NOT doing that. I don’t even own a ukulele. But, like the guys in Spinal Tap say, everything is better if you take it to eleven, right? So this list has eleven points. I mean, it’s one more.

So what’s on your list? For some ideas, visit Joy’s blog and Deanna’s, and then leave your comments to give us all some ideas for some good summer fun!

Hope your summer is as full of KOOKY as mine is shaping up to be! Keep up the chase,

Serena

Weigh-In Wednesday (don’t worry, I just want your opinion! No scale required)

Today’s topic: Inconvenient Convenience

Now that our cell phones have apps that do pretty much everything and are available for use pretty much everywhere, the question arises:

Are our lives becoming so convenience-based that it is becoming inconvenient?

In other words, do you wish you could step off the grid sometimes and become completely tech-less — completely unavailable?

I welcome your comments, so please: weigh in!

Serena

Review: KINDRED by Tammar Stein

KINDRED, by Tammar Stein is an extremely engrossing read. Even when the story seems to be moving slowly, there is an almost palpable tension urging you onward. It is a hard book to put down.

About the book:
Nineteen-year-old Miriam was raised Jewish (well, mostly Jewish) by divorced parents (a rabbi and a Catholic former nun)– She is nearing the end of her freshman year of college when she receives a disturbing visit from the archangel Raphael. Questioning her own sanity, she botches the mission given. Miriam’s life begins a downward spiral which she, at first, interprets as the punishment of God.

Meanwhile, her twin brother Mo is engaged for supernatural service… by the devil. Now Miriam is faced with acknowledging the reality of her own spiritual visit — and the implications of her brother’s similar and opposite visit and possible mission.

In her second vision, Miriam sees the angels as haughty, disapproving, even insulting — and it is revealed to her that a local teenage boy’s life and freedom are on the line. Miriam doesn’t know what to do or how to save this boy; her health is failing and fears failure and further punishment, and yet… at the end of her vision she hears a sweet voice of comfort she assumes is God Himself, assuring her of His protection.

Miriam feels responsible for saving this boy and preventing the catastrophe she saw in her vision. At the same time, she knows her beloved Twin is on a dark path. When the paths of light and dark meet, Miriam finds that even those things she saw as punishments can be used for good — and even though she may not be able to save everyone, she has to give it a shot.

My take on it:
Stein does an exceptional job describing how frightening an angelic visit could be. I’m reminded that, in the Bible, angelic appearances are usually followed by the words, “Fear not.” (or something similar.) Miriam’s experiences are very clearly described as petrifying. While they seem Biblically accurate in their fear-factorism, Miriam’s personal interpretation of angelic facial expressions on Jacob’s Ladder –and their haughty, resentful, and caustic words —  remind me more of the fallen angel’s (i.o.w.”demon”) point of view in Tosca Lee’s DEMON: A MEMOIR.

There is no easy-fix, pretty-bow ending on this tale of spiritual warfare, told from a Jewish teen’s point of view. But the ending is satisfying and thought provoking. The reader is left with a great appreciation for this well-told tale.

As a warning, there is a mild allusion to a sex scene (that doesn’t happen, thank you Ms. Stein!), some strong language (Mo uses the F-bomb fairly casually),and, although the New Testament is referenced briefly (and once, quite beautifully) throughout the novel, the Old Testament is the key Biblical text reference used in this story.

As a Christian suspending my disbelief, I longed to give Miriam a better sword with which to fight the enemy; as a reader, I was enthralled with this well-written, engaging tale.

An Invitation to join the conversation

You Are Cordially Invited to the Wednesday Weigh In

(and it’s got nothing to do with a scale, so relax)

Who: Young Women Like You (even if, like me, you know a lot of people younger than you)

What: A conversation. Tell me what’s on your mind. What makes you happy, sad, mad, concerned, giddy, etc. Respond honestly to something in your world without fear of judgment.

Where: right here, every Wednesday.

Bring: Your heart, your sense of humor, your willingness to be real. But because sometimes it’s a lot easier to be real when no one can see your face, guess what? If you want to be anonymous, I’m totally cool with that, too.

How it works:  I will post an issue, quote, or question and you can leave your comments about what you think about it, what it makes you feel, or how it inspires or convicts you. I will be approving comments, so please, keep it as clean and nonoffensive as possible without censoring what’s really going on in your heart. Help me to keep this a safe place where you can be real and connect with other girls and women on the same journey.

Come on over this and every Wednesday, and weigh in on whatever random idea, thought, or question I decide to post.

Have a great week, and keep up  the chase!

Serena

MY BLOG HAS A NEW HOME

My blog has a new home!  You can get there by visiting my brand-spanking-new website www.serenachase.com and clicking on the “blog” button.

If you have been subscribing to this location, please update your RSS FEED to the new address. I do apologize for any inconvenience and hope that you will visit my blog’s new home often!

Keep up the chase!

Serena

Lessons from a Train

Last week I took the train to a little apple-shaped college town in the middle(ish) of Kansas. It was my first Amtrak experience. It wasn’t terrible. I actually, sort of, enjoyed it. And I learned a lot. For instance:

Lesson 1. THE MOTION OF THE TRAIN FEELS A LITTLE BIT LIKE THAT OF A YACHT ON THE GULF

Thankfully, I’ve had this experience. It wasn’t my yacht, but it could be steered by remote control. Did you hear that? Remote control! The Captain, my friend’s former stepfather, literally sat with us on the deck with the remote in one hand and a Panera Chocolate Croissant in the other. No lie. And we didn’t crash or sink or anything. And I saw two sea turtles. They were a couple, if you know what I mean. And I have the pictures to prove it. But I won’t be posting said pictures because the aforementioned Captain has, since, abandoned his First (well, second actually) Mate and that ship has sailed away with my ability to seek permission to publish a photo.

So, thanks to Amtrak, I got to relive the physical motion of a great memory.

Lesson 2. The Conductor really doesn’t want to mess with you. As long as you don’t mess with her.

CONDUCTOR: “Is that a service dog, Ma’am?”

I didn’t remember seeing a dog when I boarded. Weird. I’m totally a dog freak. I notice dogs, especially big dogs, like the kind that help blind people and stuff.

CONDUCTOR: “Is that a service dog?” She repeats, “Cuz if that’s not a service dog it can’t be up here. It has to go with baggage. Is that a service dog, Ma’am?”

The woman nods vigorously.

“Okay then. Well, I’m moving you up to the next car anyway. I don’t like dogs.”

Well, that’s just mean! I think. Here this nice big dog is being quiet, just doing his God-given job, and he and his poor, disabled owner, are being punished!

The woman stands up. She steps into the aisle. I’m looking for the dog. Where’s the dog? I want to see the big, beautiful, helpful, sweet service dog!

She turns.

A cat-like creature pokes its head out of her purse.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Service dog? Hardly. This thing couldn’t pull a Cheerio out of burning building, let alone her muu-muu wearing, perfectly-abled owner.

Liar, liar, pants on fire! Good riddance, Purse Dog.

Lesson 3.THE SMELL OF A TRAIN DOES NOT NECESSARILY IMPROVE WITH TIME

I’m usually an airplane girl and, other than the reek of peanuts, I don’t remember ever smelling stink on a plane. The train, however, is another matter. It was humid on the train (it’s been a rainy spring) and the college kid in the seat next to me might have left his clothes in the washing machine a trifle too long before drying them and then wearing them in a humid environment. But, that being said, it is my humble opinion, after having several people’s breezes pass by my aisle seat, that hygeine is not as important in train travel as it is in air travel. I did catch a couple whiffs of some nice cologne, but next time I take the train, I might possibly take some of that stuff the forensic guys smear under their nose when they do an autopsy. I’m just sayin.

Lesson 4. WHEN TRAVELING ON THE TRAIN, AS ON A PLANE, ESPECIALLY IN THE RAIN, HOLD IT AS LONG AS YOU CAN

In my circle of friends I was voted “Most Likely to Know Where the Bathroom Is Located” by a landslide. I have a famously small bladder and, considering I rode the train for six hours and only had to find the loo once, well — I think I deserve some kind of medal. After my experience in the train bathroom: well, I’m sure of it.

So I finish my soda and decided IT IS TIME. I ask my seatmate if he knows where the bathrooms are. He directs me to the dining car, and downstairs. (yes, there are stairs.) So I go down the curly, windy stairs, proceed in the direction I believe he pointed before I curled and winded around the steep and narrow case, and…. run into the custodial staff, who inform me that, yes, I’ve found the bathrooms, but no, I cannot use them. I need to find a different bathroom in the next car back.

“Do you mean back as in back?” I point behind him. “Or back as in ba-ack.” I point behind me.

Train person blinks. “Uh. Back, um, that –” he points behind me, but switches and points behind himself,  ”no, that way.”

Oh, for the love of monkeys. Really, I didn’t mean to fluster him. But now everyone is confused. Finally he says, “You need to go upstairs.”

Oh, great. Now the twirly, swirly staircase again. So up I go and, low and behold, the bathroom is right. there. There are actually three of them! a guy goes into one and when the door closes I see the little pants-wearing cartoon man and I rejoice! They have separated the sexes for bathroom usage! YAY! So my eye catches the sign directly in front of me, sees a skirt-wearing cartoon woman and I pull open the door.

It’s not real clean, and it smells funky, but it’s slightly bigger than an airplane bathroom, which is nice.  So I sit. And I think. This is a very uncomfortable toilet seat. Then I stand, turn to flush, and realize: Oh. My. Goodness.

The seat is up.

It is possible that I just sat my behind on the man-splatter of a stranger.

Can you say, “Instant nausea?” because that’s where I was at. But I wasn’t about to toss my cookies over the man splatter rim.

With toilet tissue in hand, I lower the seat. I don’t want anyone thinking I did something so stupid as, well, I actually did. Then, trying really hard to not throw up, I wash my hands and exit. When I close the door behind me, I see my skirt-wearing character isn’t actually alone on the sign. I used the unisex bathroom. That confirms it. Man Splatter. EW! so I head back to my seat, ashamed and more than a little grossed out.

Hand sanitizer! Hand sanitizer! I liberally apply the gel to my hands, but I still feel just gross. Before I put the bottle back in my bag the phrase  ”Butt sanitzer” crosses my mind, but…? Nah. I nix the idea of going back to the bathroom with my little bottle of safety gel. So, I grab out a book and try to concentrate on the story and not throw up on my seat mate.

Lesson 5. I’D DO IT ALL AGAIN.

Well, not all of it. I’m an experienced trainster now. I know to check the sign on the door. To carry vapo-rub, and, if all else fails, I can always let the gentle motion of the train remind me of mating sea turtles. Oh. Wait. That just sounded. Wrong.

Sure, it sounds like I had a bad experience on the train, but it really wasn’t. Those are just the lowlights. I’d totally do it again. Maybe.

So, just in case you’re wondering why I’m soiling your imagination with my travel experiences, let me make one thing clear: it wasn’t my idea. Yesterday, I met a friend at Starbucks. After discovering the joy of Mocha Coconut Frappuccinos together, she says, “All that Lent stuff was pretty heavy, Serena. You need to lighten up on your blog. Write about train toilets or something.”

And there it is.

Keep up the chase!

Serena

Ah, the sweet pedicure of love.

What is it about the first pedicure  of the year that I find so relaxing? Is it the heated massage chair? the hot whirling water my feet soak in before the guy (or gal) gets out the sandpaper-on-a-stick and sands the snoodles out of my winter-whitened heels? Is it the calf-massage? The toenail trimming and filing and shaping? The skin clipping? (uh, no.) Is it the polishing, then? Or those funny foam thingies that keep my freshly tinted toes from touching each other?

Well, I don’t know what it is about a professional pedicure that I love so much, but I do love it. It’s just, plain… indulgent; so much more indulgent than a manicure because, let’s face it: it’s your stupid stinky feet!

Clearly I am not a licensed pedicurist. My vernacular is sadly lacking. But I know to sit in that chair and let myself be pampered. Oh, yeah. I know how to do that. And it isn’t even weird anymore.

But it was the first time. It felt wrong, somehow. Even though I knew I was paying for the service — and that I am a good tipper — it just felt… wrong. I mean: feet are gross, right? And that dude is going to… what??? With what???? Ewww.

But, obviously, I got over it. I really, really got over it. Now, every spring, I look forward to meeting one of my best girlfriends in a city halfway in between her house and mine, and getting our pedis done.

So why is my Lenten Journey post of the week starting out with a discussion of my indulgent spring foot rituals? Well, it’s because, after years of not knowing and, honestly, not caring, what Maundy Thursday meant, I finally googled it.

According to christianity.about.com, the meaning of the word “Maundy” (as in “Maundy Thursday”) is this:

Derived from the Latin word mandatum, meaning “commandment,” Maundy refers to the commands Jesus gave his disciples at the Last Supper: to love with humility by serving one another and to remember his sacrifice.

Maundy Thursday celebrates the last supper… and the first, Holy pedi when Jesus washed the disciples feet.

³ Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; ⁴ so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. ⁵ After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

 ⁶ He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

 ⁷ Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

 ⁸ “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

   Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

 ⁹ “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”

–John 13:3-9 (New International Version, copyright 2011)

Indulgent.

Weird.

Humbling.

all that… and more.

Today, Maundy Thursday, I shall wash the feet of some people I love. I will indulge them. It might be weird. It might be humbling (for both of us) but it will be honest and it will be true. And as my Lenten Journey nears the cross, perhaps it will help me to better focus on my purpose as a servant. As one who not only has had her feet washed, but her soul.

And maybe, just maybe, cleaning the stinky feet of those we love can help us keep up the chase… humbled… and renewed.

Serena 

The Heart of a Gypsy — stalled.

My dad was adopted. Part of me believes that his unknown genetic inheritance includes a recessive gypsy gene that skipped over him and my brother but, like some rogue double helix on a mission to find a home, delved a powerful, thick root of “GO!” inside the attention center of my brain.

I was born to roam. To wander. To adventure. To risk, and fail, and fall, and rise smiling just in time to do it again. My heart has a specific itch that attacks it every so often. It makes me want to pack only what I can carry, buy some dangly earrings, and get the heck outta Dodge.

I practically have hives from it today.

But the sort of adventure I seek isn’t necessarily the kind of thing you’d find in an action flick or a spy novel. It’s a more quiet kind of treasure hunt. I seek a peaceful, deep-breathing, I-am-here-and-unafraid, solitary sort of adventure that will remind me — in an almost tangible way — that God made me for his pleasure. I was made to desire that sort of retreat. And for some reason, I have a really hard time finding that retreat in places where I am known.

I long to go to lonely places. Not necessarily uninhabited, monastic places (although I do like those), but places where I am anonymous. Be it a big city, a park, a beach, a waterfall in the woods, or a piazza in some little Riviera town (you pick the Riviera), I simply long for the quiet anonymity of being a stranger in a strange land. It helps me connect to God; to appreciate his wonders and to appreciate the ability to wonder he has built inside me.

“I will give you hidden treasures, 
   riches stored in secret places, 
so that you may know that I am the LORD, 
   the God of Israel, who summons you by name.”

-Isaiah 45:3 (NIV, copyright 2011)

He summons me by name! YAY! But here, in my house, with the washing machine running, the wind howling, and iCarly’s laugh track sweeping up the hall, I seem to have misplaced my treasure map. For some reason I have trouble connecting with my built in wonder (treasure)-finder when I spend too much time in the same place. It’s almost like the white noise of the familiar and the pink noise of the responsibilities and expectations of everyday life short-circuits that Holy copper wire. In a foreign place (not necessarily a location prescribing to the accepted definition of “foreign”) where I am unknown, my pride goes on holiday and I can grasp a greater inkling (though still an inkling) of the vast, unprecedented coolness of my God. Anonymous, I can find the map which leads to the quiet within me; the quiet which is open to translating the loving whispers of that Still, Small Voice.

Anonymous. That’s who I want to be today.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s not like I am famous or anything. Well, no more famous than anyone else in my small Midwestern town (pop. 1300.) I don’t have to dodge the paparazzi or turn down interviews with Barbara Walters, but coming back to the town where you grew up, especially after carving a different sort of life elsewhere, is not all that conducive to anonymity. Everywhere I go, I’m like Norm at Cheers. (Travel back to 1988 if you haven’t seen it in reruns: “Sometimes you wanna go, where everybody knows your name…”) And sometimes it’s nice to be known. Comforting, even. But sometimes it’s… suffocating. And, every so often, I need –yes, need – to retreat myself away somewhere I am anonymous. A stranger in a strange land. To go away where no one knows my accomplishments and failures. No one loves or hates my hair. No one sees me defined by who I am related to, or where I work, or what I do in my free time. Somewhere I am simply anonymous. Because it is in anonymity I better discover true retreat and fulfill the longings of my gypsy heart.

retreat: noun.  1a. The act or process of withdrawing, esp. from something hazardous or unpleasant. b. The process of receding from a position or condition gained. 2. A place affording peace, quiet, privacy, or security. 3a. A period of seclusion, retirement, or solitude. b. A period of withdrawal for prayer, meditaion, or study. 4a. Withdrawal of a military force from danger. b. The signal for such withdrawal. c. A bugle call or drumbeat signaling the lowering of the flag at sunset. d. The military ceremony of lowering the flag at sunset.

From The American Heritage College Dictionary, Fourth Edition

There is no denying that today is one of those gypsy days. I am feeling that itch, that spark, that soul-craving need to grab my treasure map, close my eyes and point, and GO.

Perhaps there was something of that gypsy-drive in Jesus, too. He got away from all the white noise, the pink noise, the demands, and the Pharisaical assumptions of what he was up to. He craved to connect to the Holy within, without distraction.

“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.“

-Luke 5:16 — NIV, copyright 2011

So color me craving wonder, today. — And chasing, always chasing– even when standing still.

And through all my gypsy days, I remain longing to be caught.

Because the ONE I am chasing is also chasing me.

Serena

BOOK REVIEW: THE PROMISES SHE KEEPS

Erin Healy has done it again. THE PROMISES SHE KEEPS is a mysterious, enthralling story with diverse, sometimes leaning-over-the-edge-of-creepy characters. Erin Healy draws you into the very heart of her characters, and they are many. CHASE is a talented, austistic artist who draws trees. PORTA is a witch. (literally) running an art gallery while she searches for the key to immortality. PROMISE is a talented singer/performer dying of a terminal disease… or is she? ZACK is Porta’s son, a druggie artist with a thing for Promise and a lot of anger. A few other minor characters round out the cast, but each is so unique and clearly voiced that the reader can experience their individuality and presence with nearly every sense of the imagination. Due to other reading/reviewing commitments, it took me a long time to read this title, but each scene was so completely memorable that I couldn’t help but be able to just pick up where I left off — sometimes with a week — and two or more other novels —  in between reading sessions. This is not a book you “can’t put down” — but it is a book you look forward to picking back up. What I love about Erin’s writing is that she doesn’t stoop to tying pretty bows on her endings… she leaves her characters (those who live through the tale, at least!) satisfied and well grown, but not so completely “there yet” that the reader is jolted back to reality with the final page turn. THE PROMISES SHE KEEPS proves once again that author Erin Healy is able to skillfully pen tales that linger within your mind for a long time after you finish reading them. I recommend this book to anyone looking for a deeply satisfying read. But be warned: there are definitely moments of “creepy” and if you’re looking for a bow tied on a conversion story, an evangelical tract to share with your unbelieving friends, or a romantic escapist read, this isn’t it: this is light on the preaching (thank you!), light on the lovey, and heavy on the Story. Mark me down a fan. Plainly put, THE PROMISES SHE KEEPS is a well told tale. REVIEWED BY SERENA CHASE   *BLOGGER’S NOTICE/DISCLAIMER: I RECEIVED THIS BOOK FOR *FREE” FROM BOOKSNEEZE.COM IN EXCHANGE FOR POSTING MY HONEST REVIEW ON THIS BLOG. ALL BOOK REVIEW OPINIONS ON THIS BLOG ARE MINE AND CONSIST OF MY HONEST OPINION OF THE REVIEWED BOOK REGARDLESS OF THE COST OR LACK OF COST OF THE PARTICULAR WORK REVIEWED.