And there you have it.

You know what?

I had completely forgotten that I had written that post about prayer.  About the solution to big problems.  I remembered that I wrote about big problems but I forgot that I already had a solution.  I had forgotten about the solution because I had forgotten about the problem.  In a matter of days I could be passionate about something and sweep it under the bed of my mind only to become easily excited about it all over again as if for the first time.

And prayer always sounds better in theory than practice.  I don't want to physically kneel beside my bed and talk to God.  I want to curl up under the covers and mumble things to God while I doze off. 

So I guess I'm convicted to pray.

A luxurious problem.

And on the subject of big problems.. what convicts you? 

What gets you out of bed in the morning to get on your knees?  To run to the computer to type? 

Does anything convict you? 

Not so many generations ago my forefathers risked their lives and said goodbye to everything they knew to start a new life.  They were convinced that it would be a better life.  And I'm sure it was a worse one before it got better.  But it got better.  It got so good in fact, that just a few years later their great-grandkids didn't even realize that there was such a thing as a hard life. 

It's really hard to be motivated sometimes, while I sit on my cushy bed with my matching pine bedroom furniture.  But Christians are being killed in China and orphans in Africa and unborn babies in North America yet I go to sleep every night undeterred. 

And that makes me sick.  But tomorrow it will make me indifferent.  So when do I raise my voice?  What absolute disgrace would have to happen in front of my eyes for me to do away with complacency?  And if I don't raise my voice, then who?

And truthfully I don't know where to begin and I get overwhelmed just thinking about it, but I guess that just means that the only place to begin is right beside my bed.  Because whatever I do in life doesn't matter much if I don't hear "Well done, good and faithful servant.", at the end of it all. 

So what am I going to do about that?

Well of course.

I had a conversation with a friend of mine last night.  She was telling me about how she was trying to help her friend fight through her depression.  She admittted that she was struggling because the problem was too big for her to handle.

Well of course.

And I mean that in the most comforting way.  We should take great joy in knowing that our problems-about co-workers, our health, paying next month's rent-are far too big for us.  They will swallow us up if we don't do something about them.  But what can we do? 

We can pray.  And like Max Lucado suggests in the fifteenth chapter of Outlive Your Life, we should "pray first; pray most".  More than planning it out or reasoning it out or number crunching it out we should pray it out.  Because if we can do it all on our own then what do we need God for anyway?  If we are self-sufficing beings, controlling when we die and how we die and never have to sweat over bills, or the treadmill for that matter, then we don't need a mediator between us and Heaven.  If we can get there ourselves then Jesus doesn't matter. But we can't.

And poverty in Africa is too big of a problem.  Poverty in your own town is too big of a problem.  And your attitude towards your negletful father is too big of a problem.  You can't handle it.  But there is power in prayer, and the Lord hears us when we speak.  Isn't that the solution?  That the God who actually made the universe also has control over it, also knows your inner being enough to carry you through the hard, overwhelming stuff when you call on him?  Couldn't he do that?  Doesn't he do that?

Well of course.

Just a [petite] thought.

I reached up in the cupboard this evening for a snack and pulled out a bag of Nibs candy.  These weren't just any regular ho-hum-harry Nibs though, these babies were "Super Nibs". 

Awesome!

Just like the "Super" bag of Lays S&V chippity chips that I see in the grocery store aisle while I'm shopping for organic apples and broccoli.  How strange.

So what makes these snacks so super, superior to their fellow Nib cousins?  They're in a big bag.  The "super" refers to the size of the bag.  And no, I don't think you're unaware of this, but I do think it's an interesting observation.

Conotation plays a big role in marketing.  This bag of sugar treats has SUPER written all over it so it's hard for me to feel ashamed while toting them and waiting in line.  However, if the bag said "Extra Large" or "Plus Size", would I still feel as super?  Or would I now associate this larger sack of goodies bundled in my arms as an obvious sign to all the fellow grocery shoppers of my poor eating habits, thus contributing to an overall dissatisfaction with my own body? 

Does "plus size" shrink my confidence?  And why isn't there a size called "Extra Super?"

Someone could do an experiment on this.

The meaning of life is _______.

I just deleted my 100+ albums on Facebook.  It's a new era. A more professional, more purposed era.  I hope. 

Yes, yes before you flood me with comments that Facebook does in fact still have my photos because I gave up the rights to them when I posted them in the first place.. it's cool, I already knew that.  It's bogus, but I hope they enjoy the multitudes of tongue-sticking-out and crossed-eyed funny faces and high school musical dressing room photos.  Merry Christmas, Facebook.  And yeah, I'm sure I'll post more photos on Facebook-it's so hard not to!-but like I said, purpose.  Fingers crossed.  I'm a photo junkie.

But tonight, as I sat on the living room couch drinking a tall glass of orange juice (a real treat in my house!), I looked down at my leopard print elastic harem-esque-make-me-wanna-be-a-professional-choreographer-pants I decided that today was a big day.  Because today I got an answer.

"What do I doooooooooooooooo?"  has been my theme song (on repeat, dreadfully annoying) since the summer ended. Summer is about working and then trying to get off work early so that you can be in a boat, on the lake, at least in the sun.  And then I had an end of summer vacation to top it all off.  Saved myself some decision making time.  Passed out a few books.  Had a few meaningful conversations.  All good.  But then I came home to my bed and, while I appreciate the way my mother rearranged it so that the sunlight hits it in a certain inspiring way, its still the same ol bed.  The same bed I sleep in before I go to the same job.  Arrggh routine. 

But I've been reading my Bible in the mornings, journaling, jogging, and in some way its so mundane, so everyday life, and yet it's so magnificent!

Melissa, honour God.  Live a life full.  That's precisely what you do.  Focus on Christ and well, if he can orchestrate something like the solar system (orbit and all!), then your future is probably safe.  Soo... from here from this bed, from that job, in these leopard print shimmy shakers, that's my life full. 

I know this is such a tired theme, but I can't help that it keeps recurring because I keep forgetting.  Here's hoping that you're like me.. otherwise you swear you're never coming back here. 

Tomorrow's task: making supreme caramel apples with my momma and a lot of focused prayer time.