Literally.
I've invested a lot of time in this year's American Idol. I believe it's the strongest season yet - and that's saying a lot, because last year was incredible. I don't watch a lot of TV, but I do make sure I don't miss one episode of American Idol. I am firmly hooked on the show.
Yes, it displays a lot of talent and fulfills dreams. You get to really get connected with the contestants. But you know what one of the best parts is? You can express your faith on the show. If you happen to be a worship leader at your church, they don't keep that quiet. If you want to thank God for a good performance, you can go ahead and do that. In fact, last year during Idol Gives Back, the contestants sang "Shout To The Lord."
This year, however, is the strongest season of American Idol for the Christians, so to speak. "The year of the worship leader", the articles call it.
Why?
Of the top 36, 7 were worship leaders. 5 of those leaders made it through to the Top 13 - and in fact, none of them were eliminated before the Top 10, which means we'll be seeing all 5 of them in the upcoming tour.
Danny Gokey is the one that almost everyone knows is a worship leader. It's his main occupation. This man of faith looks like he'll be running all the way to the finals, probably against Adam Lambert (who's not a worship leader, but dang, that kid's voice gives me goosebumps...but I won't go on and on...and on...about him right now). Never had any formal training in his life, but he still uses the gifts God gave him.
Kris Allen is another worship leader that many know. His humble aw-shucks personality (and his face that's easy on the eyes) has many girls squealing, yet he proudly shows in bold and subtle ways how happy he is to be married to his wife. His proudest moment, he says in the American Idol interview, was when he married his wife. When he blew the judges away on Grand Ole Opry night, he didn't fail to show his wedding ring off to everyone. By the way, kudos to him for accepting Simon's advice to "be more self-confident, conceited, selfish" by saying, "Thank you. I will try to be more self-confident. I don't know about conceited, but self-confident, yes."
Scott MacIntyre, while technically not a "leader", plays music for his church quite often. His story of producing his music while dealing with blindness is inspirational and perhaps the main reason he's still on the show. His vocals are not the strongest, but his story - and probably his faith - keeps him going.
Matt Giraud, as well as being a dual piano player, is also a worship leader. He's really beginning to step out as a contender. We will probably be seeing him for quite some time, along with Kris Allen and definitely Danny Gokey. These 3 Christians probably aren't leaving for quite some time.
And good ole Michael Sarver leads worship on Sundays while he works as an oil rigger during the week. It's a surprise that he's even made it this far in the competition, based on vocals and appearance. While his vocals are good, they haven't stood out perhaps as much as the others, and he doesn't have a "commercial" appearance. Yet I'm convinced it's his humble, gracious attitude that's kept him here this long. People love his personality. "Thank you, ma'am", "thank you, sir," and "I appreciate that" are regulars in his vocabulary. And when doled some hefty criticism from the judges, he responded with a calm, "Hey, I made it to the Top 10 in American Idol, the greatest show in the world." No comment from the judges is going to make him forget the big picture.
It's the year of the worship leader. It's great to see America voting these guys through. Yes, their personalities are likeable - it's amazing to see the names these guys are giving us Christians. It's refreshing. In any other show on TV, Christians would be looked down upon. On this show, however, America is voting through the Christians. They know Danny Gokey's a worship leader. They're voting him through strongly. These men are all representatives of God and America is seeing it and voting them through.
It's a good season. A very good season.
(Make sure you vote for the worship leaders, but put in a few votes for Adam Lambert too...he's phenomenal).
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
It's Complicated
Everyone knows at least one person who doesn't have a life (especially teenagers). They go to school, come home, spend hours in front of the computer chatting with their Internet friends (since they don't have any in real life) and/or watching TV. Then they go to bed and that's how their day goes. I know several people like that.
And, as well, everyone knows someone who's got the opposite problem: too much of a life. Check their calendar and you'll notice they probably only have a couple hours of free time (don't worry, those'll be booked up by next week).
I know people like that too. In fact, right now, I pretty much am one.
I check the calendar and I've got stuff I signed up for that I don't even remember signing up for. My mental weekly planner goes something like this: "Okay, it's Sunday morning. I'll go to church, hang around for a Target team meeting, then go home, eat, come back and babysit, then I'll stay for youth group. Monday through Friday I have school. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays I have work - and my hours just got upped. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I have drivers ed - whoops, I've got babysitting on Wednesday and Friday too. Then I've got music lessons and a library visit a couple towns over on Tuesday, then I have to run right back to choir practice. I also have to really start preparing for the Watseka theatre auditions in March, other theatre auditions in April, and my piano recital in May. I've also got hours worth of writing to do...."
It just goes on and on and on. It's gotten to the point where 24 hours is just too short a day. After all this stuff, I just want to sit down, get writing. After all, my stories online have become very popular among the teen crowd. I've got a dozen stories left to write for them, plus two novels that I have to work on, that I would rather do more than anything right now. And throughout all this, I'm able to watch the American Idol results show on Wednesday (can't even get to the one on Tuesday), and maybe I can read a book at night if I'm not too exhausted.
(Too exhausted to read, anyway. Apparently I'm not too exhausted to fall asleep until five hours later - and then I wake up two hours after that).
I've never felt more overwhelmed in my life.
Don't get me wrong, I love doing all this stuff. I love childcare, I love doing stuff with church, I love my job, I love to write, I love to sing, and I love to perform. It's all stuff I love to do. I'd much rather be busy than have nothing to do, most of the time (nowadays I'd give anything for a day just to sit around and have nothing to do). Still...inside me, I know there's a great deal of stress that's building up from all this. I don't feel aggravated or totally whacked out, but I know that stress is in there. It's probably a big part of why I can't sleep at night, why my headaches have been getting more intense, and why my grades have been slipping (straight A's last year, straight B-minuses this year...not bad, but I can only imagine what it'll be next year).
It just blows my mind how I got this busy in the first place. I never used to have this much stuff to do. Nowadays, I've just learned to check the calendar, accept what I have, and don't think about it much. If I concentrate on something that's impossible for my mind to comprehend, I always end up bursting into tears (that's why there are saltwater stains all over my biology tests). A few nights I have thought about how I got to be this overwhelmed. I have no idea how it all started - nor do I have any idea how to lesson the load. I don't even know if I want to lesson the load. Right now, my mind's turned into a big pile of mush. I see and do - not much room to think anymore.
And everyone tells me, "You're only going to get busier once you get older."
By the time I'm twenty years old, my mother will probably update you on my funeral. "It's unfortunate...she was a beautiful, loving daughter, always doing whatever you asked of her. She was so responsible, keeping up so many duties, keeping her money in check, keeping everything in balance...it's so sad that after all this...[sniff] her head had to... [sob] explode...."
I think I want my graveyard marked with a poem: "Here lies dear Rachel / Who kept herself busy with plenty / But one day, she got carried away / And she lost her head at twenty."
Alright, I have to go - I have to take a shower, maybe get in some writing before drivers ed. After that, I have babysitting to do, so I'll be gone all day. I'll keep you updated later. :)
And, as well, everyone knows someone who's got the opposite problem: too much of a life. Check their calendar and you'll notice they probably only have a couple hours of free time (don't worry, those'll be booked up by next week).
I know people like that too. In fact, right now, I pretty much am one.
I check the calendar and I've got stuff I signed up for that I don't even remember signing up for. My mental weekly planner goes something like this: "Okay, it's Sunday morning. I'll go to church, hang around for a Target team meeting, then go home, eat, come back and babysit, then I'll stay for youth group. Monday through Friday I have school. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays I have work - and my hours just got upped. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I have drivers ed - whoops, I've got babysitting on Wednesday and Friday too. Then I've got music lessons and a library visit a couple towns over on Tuesday, then I have to run right back to choir practice. I also have to really start preparing for the Watseka theatre auditions in March, other theatre auditions in April, and my piano recital in May. I've also got hours worth of writing to do...."
It just goes on and on and on. It's gotten to the point where 24 hours is just too short a day. After all this stuff, I just want to sit down, get writing. After all, my stories online have become very popular among the teen crowd. I've got a dozen stories left to write for them, plus two novels that I have to work on, that I would rather do more than anything right now. And throughout all this, I'm able to watch the American Idol results show on Wednesday (can't even get to the one on Tuesday), and maybe I can read a book at night if I'm not too exhausted.
(Too exhausted to read, anyway. Apparently I'm not too exhausted to fall asleep until five hours later - and then I wake up two hours after that).
I've never felt more overwhelmed in my life.
Don't get me wrong, I love doing all this stuff. I love childcare, I love doing stuff with church, I love my job, I love to write, I love to sing, and I love to perform. It's all stuff I love to do. I'd much rather be busy than have nothing to do, most of the time (nowadays I'd give anything for a day just to sit around and have nothing to do). Still...inside me, I know there's a great deal of stress that's building up from all this. I don't feel aggravated or totally whacked out, but I know that stress is in there. It's probably a big part of why I can't sleep at night, why my headaches have been getting more intense, and why my grades have been slipping (straight A's last year, straight B-minuses this year...not bad, but I can only imagine what it'll be next year).
It just blows my mind how I got this busy in the first place. I never used to have this much stuff to do. Nowadays, I've just learned to check the calendar, accept what I have, and don't think about it much. If I concentrate on something that's impossible for my mind to comprehend, I always end up bursting into tears (that's why there are saltwater stains all over my biology tests). A few nights I have thought about how I got to be this overwhelmed. I have no idea how it all started - nor do I have any idea how to lesson the load. I don't even know if I want to lesson the load. Right now, my mind's turned into a big pile of mush. I see and do - not much room to think anymore.
And everyone tells me, "You're only going to get busier once you get older."
By the time I'm twenty years old, my mother will probably update you on my funeral. "It's unfortunate...she was a beautiful, loving daughter, always doing whatever you asked of her. She was so responsible, keeping up so many duties, keeping her money in check, keeping everything in balance...it's so sad that after all this...[sniff] her head had to... [sob] explode...."
I think I want my graveyard marked with a poem: "Here lies dear Rachel / Who kept herself busy with plenty / But one day, she got carried away / And she lost her head at twenty."
Alright, I have to go - I have to take a shower, maybe get in some writing before drivers ed. After that, I have babysitting to do, so I'll be gone all day. I'll keep you updated later. :)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Learning To Accept Myself
News is important. I like to read both the local newspaper and USA Today frequently to make sure I'm all caught up with what's going on. It surprises people at my work sometimes when I'm reading the newspaper during my lunch break. However, when it comes to random stuff and little tidbits on celebrity info, MSN.com is my place to be. One of my favorite articles is called "Celebrity Undressed" - which features different celebrities and their major fashion flubs. It's amusing to see what kind of stuff celebrities think they can get away with just because they're celebrities - especially certain ones that repeatedly make article after article. While browsing through the new update, Lindsay Lohan was featured - and I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't seeing things wrong. It wasn't necessarily because of what she was wearing; it was her extreme thinness that struck me. It almost didn't look real. It disgusted me, really.
Which is something I'm proud to say. About this time last year, if I would've seen that picture of her, I would have thought, "I wish I were that thin."
I don't really recall how it happened in the first place, but I know it was around my 15th birthday that I started perceiving myself as fat. I was a perfectly healthy weight, but I certainly wasn't happy with it. I didn't look as good as the stick-thin celebrity girls with the amazing bods - I didn't even look as good as most of my friends. They were beautiful and thin, and they didn't even put any effort into it. Thin = beautiful. That mindset got hammered into my head.
I have always been a very logical girl. If something hasn't been proven, I stay pretty skeptical about it. I had read hundreds of stories and books about how dieting does not work, so I knew I wasn't going to go with any organized diet. I was going to go with my own. Logically, if you severely lower your calorie intake, your body has to lose weight. Even if it's only temporarily, that's the way it works. So that's what I did. Almost immediately I cut myself down to one small meal a day. Of course I was absolutely starving at first, but my willpower was pretty strong. I wanted to be thin so I was going to be thin.
(That's another thing about me, by the way - when I'm determined to do something, I do it.)
I was absolutely thrilled when, in the first 3 days, I lost 5 lbs from my efforts. That gave me all the fuel I needed to keep up my habits. I began to keep track of my caloric intake, praising myself if it was 800 and under, and criticising myself if it were over 1,000. Foods, especially desserts, became my enemy. If I accidentally ate a "bad" food, or if somebody made me eat something, I sometimes got so upset that I would hide in the bathroom and shed a few tears. I remember my parents, especially my Dad, becoming concerned about my eating patterns. I always just claimed I wasn't hungry - which, after my body got used to my eating habits, became entirely true. My stomach shrunk, and I was happy with it. Dad would tell me I "had to eat something," to which I believed in my heart that I really didn't. Whenever both parents were gone for the day, sometimes a pretzel and a box of raisins would be my only meal for the entire day.
I lost fifteen pounds in a very short amount of time, and afterwards didn't seem to lose anymore, but I didn't gain any of it back either. I still wasn't completely satisfied with my body, but I liked it better. Exercising - sometimes to the point of exhaustion - was something I did everyday. I would smile with pride as I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my ribs showing more each week, my hip bones protruding, my shoulders bony. My face took on an angular shape and for the first time in my teenage years, I really thought I was somewhat pretty. When I smiled, there was no fat around my face. It felt great. My diary is filled with pages of those days, ecstatic when I would go 24 hours without eating and enraged when I broke down and had a cookie when I told myself I wouldn't have one.
I kept it downplayed pretty well. My parents would get concerned, but my laidback, nonchalant responses kept the matter from being serious. By the time I was 5 months in, I couldn't imagine living any other way. The thought of eating 3 meals a day disgusted me. I shuddered when I thought of my old days and how "fat" I was. I still didn't think I had an "eating disorder" or "anorexia." I was just becoming "extremely healthy." I remember clearly one of my diary pages, towards the end, sealed in ink: "I'm not anorexic...at least I don't think I'm anorexic. If I am, I don't mind."
After 8 months of living with my extreme diet, I began to read all sorts of stuff about eating disorders. One book listed 14 signs of anorexia and I displayed 10 of those signs. I refused to think about it at first. I still prayed to God about other things. Don't get me wrong, I didn't reject God during those months - I simply didn't bring up my eating habits in my prayers. I knew He knew about them. I also knew He probably wasn't happy about them. For both mission trips I've been on, 1st John 1:9 has been a required memory verse: "If you confess your sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive you your sins and purify you from all unrighteousness." The very last part is the reason I refused to confess my sin (yes, I now admit that it's a sin, even though it's still hard): I didn't want to be purified from it. I liked how my body looked and I liked how I went about doing it. If I faced God with my issue, I knew He'd want me to turn away from it, and I didn't want to turn away. Simple as that.
Finally I pushed myself to confess. I knew I had to, as much as I didn't want to. Like I suspected, He convicted me to start eating more healthfully. It was hard. It was very hard. I failed quite a few times, wanting so badly to go right back to ignoring food. When I started putting weight back on, I felt so ashamed and miserable. The new fat felt so uncomfortable and so disgusting. There was no "Hallelujah, the Lord has cleansed my soul and made me see I'm beautiful!" I hated the new fat on my body. Hated it. Yet I tried my hardest to keep eating healthfully, eating 3 meals a day because it's supposed to be the right thing to do.
Nowadays, I've come a long way. I've gotten over my habits. I eat 3 meals a day and sometimes snack in between as well. I've accepted food as good for me. Still, I am only starting to accept my body. I will be 100% honest - I liked my thinner body better. I felt healthier, I looked great, my self-esteem was higher, and I felt perkier. Having the body I always wanted energized me. Now I have to revamp my mind and tell myself that I am at a healthy weight and these curves on me are beautiful. It's not easy. I don't like taking pictures as much anymore because my face and smile aren't as beautiful as they once were. Back then, I used to look in the mirror and smile at my progress. Now I find it harder to accept that I'm 130 lbs.
It's hard, but I'm just learning to accept myself. This is what's right, isn't it? Eating disorders aren't right no matter how they feel - if I did have an eating disorder. Maybe.
Just had to get that off my chest. That's all for now.
Which is something I'm proud to say. About this time last year, if I would've seen that picture of her, I would have thought, "I wish I were that thin."
I don't really recall how it happened in the first place, but I know it was around my 15th birthday that I started perceiving myself as fat. I was a perfectly healthy weight, but I certainly wasn't happy with it. I didn't look as good as the stick-thin celebrity girls with the amazing bods - I didn't even look as good as most of my friends. They were beautiful and thin, and they didn't even put any effort into it. Thin = beautiful. That mindset got hammered into my head.
I have always been a very logical girl. If something hasn't been proven, I stay pretty skeptical about it. I had read hundreds of stories and books about how dieting does not work, so I knew I wasn't going to go with any organized diet. I was going to go with my own. Logically, if you severely lower your calorie intake, your body has to lose weight. Even if it's only temporarily, that's the way it works. So that's what I did. Almost immediately I cut myself down to one small meal a day. Of course I was absolutely starving at first, but my willpower was pretty strong. I wanted to be thin so I was going to be thin.
(That's another thing about me, by the way - when I'm determined to do something, I do it.)
I was absolutely thrilled when, in the first 3 days, I lost 5 lbs from my efforts. That gave me all the fuel I needed to keep up my habits. I began to keep track of my caloric intake, praising myself if it was 800 and under, and criticising myself if it were over 1,000. Foods, especially desserts, became my enemy. If I accidentally ate a "bad" food, or if somebody made me eat something, I sometimes got so upset that I would hide in the bathroom and shed a few tears. I remember my parents, especially my Dad, becoming concerned about my eating patterns. I always just claimed I wasn't hungry - which, after my body got used to my eating habits, became entirely true. My stomach shrunk, and I was happy with it. Dad would tell me I "had to eat something," to which I believed in my heart that I really didn't. Whenever both parents were gone for the day, sometimes a pretzel and a box of raisins would be my only meal for the entire day.
I lost fifteen pounds in a very short amount of time, and afterwards didn't seem to lose anymore, but I didn't gain any of it back either. I still wasn't completely satisfied with my body, but I liked it better. Exercising - sometimes to the point of exhaustion - was something I did everyday. I would smile with pride as I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my ribs showing more each week, my hip bones protruding, my shoulders bony. My face took on an angular shape and for the first time in my teenage years, I really thought I was somewhat pretty. When I smiled, there was no fat around my face. It felt great. My diary is filled with pages of those days, ecstatic when I would go 24 hours without eating and enraged when I broke down and had a cookie when I told myself I wouldn't have one.
I kept it downplayed pretty well. My parents would get concerned, but my laidback, nonchalant responses kept the matter from being serious. By the time I was 5 months in, I couldn't imagine living any other way. The thought of eating 3 meals a day disgusted me. I shuddered when I thought of my old days and how "fat" I was. I still didn't think I had an "eating disorder" or "anorexia." I was just becoming "extremely healthy." I remember clearly one of my diary pages, towards the end, sealed in ink: "I'm not anorexic...at least I don't think I'm anorexic. If I am, I don't mind."
After 8 months of living with my extreme diet, I began to read all sorts of stuff about eating disorders. One book listed 14 signs of anorexia and I displayed 10 of those signs. I refused to think about it at first. I still prayed to God about other things. Don't get me wrong, I didn't reject God during those months - I simply didn't bring up my eating habits in my prayers. I knew He knew about them. I also knew He probably wasn't happy about them. For both mission trips I've been on, 1st John 1:9 has been a required memory verse: "If you confess your sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive you your sins and purify you from all unrighteousness." The very last part is the reason I refused to confess my sin (yes, I now admit that it's a sin, even though it's still hard): I didn't want to be purified from it. I liked how my body looked and I liked how I went about doing it. If I faced God with my issue, I knew He'd want me to turn away from it, and I didn't want to turn away. Simple as that.
Finally I pushed myself to confess. I knew I had to, as much as I didn't want to. Like I suspected, He convicted me to start eating more healthfully. It was hard. It was very hard. I failed quite a few times, wanting so badly to go right back to ignoring food. When I started putting weight back on, I felt so ashamed and miserable. The new fat felt so uncomfortable and so disgusting. There was no "Hallelujah, the Lord has cleansed my soul and made me see I'm beautiful!" I hated the new fat on my body. Hated it. Yet I tried my hardest to keep eating healthfully, eating 3 meals a day because it's supposed to be the right thing to do.
Nowadays, I've come a long way. I've gotten over my habits. I eat 3 meals a day and sometimes snack in between as well. I've accepted food as good for me. Still, I am only starting to accept my body. I will be 100% honest - I liked my thinner body better. I felt healthier, I looked great, my self-esteem was higher, and I felt perkier. Having the body I always wanted energized me. Now I have to revamp my mind and tell myself that I am at a healthy weight and these curves on me are beautiful. It's not easy. I don't like taking pictures as much anymore because my face and smile aren't as beautiful as they once were. Back then, I used to look in the mirror and smile at my progress. Now I find it harder to accept that I'm 130 lbs.
It's hard, but I'm just learning to accept myself. This is what's right, isn't it? Eating disorders aren't right no matter how they feel - if I did have an eating disorder. Maybe.
Just had to get that off my chest. That's all for now.
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