Monday Poll
What was your favorite Super Bowl commercial?

Posted on February 8, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Tiffany Kinerson

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The Book of 

Ooh La La!

Posted on February 4, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Sara Richardson

Ever since I was very young I have believed in the power of true love. When I could write, I started keeping a journal, but it wasn’t the “Dear Diary” type of journal. No, recording the day’s events never appealed much to me. Instead, I called my journal The Book of Love. Go ahead, laugh. I realize it’s a bit unconventional for an eight-year-old. (But you’ve gotta remember, I was also a budding romance writer.) Throughout the years I filled many notebooks. It became a compilation. The Book of Love Volumes I -  … well, I’m still writing books about love.

Now you may be thinking I filled my notebook pages with juicy secrets about all of the boys I loved, about those first kisses on the cheek, about my first boyfriend who dragged me across the playground and informed me we were “going out.” (Going where, I had wondered.) But let me stop you right there. Those notebooks were not filled with my secrets or my personal experiences with love. They were filled with others’ thoughts about love. Every time I came across a poem or Bible verse that spoke powerfully about true love, I copied it into my notebook. Eventually, when I grew older, I started to write my own poems, and “articles” about true love. (Wouldn’t you love to see a sample?)

See, I have always been fascinated by true love. I caught glimpses of it here and there. In the love between my parents, in their love for me, even in a couple of best friends. But I also believed there was more. So I studied it. Analyzed it. That is how I learned about true love. By reading about it. By writing about it. By realizing that love was the longing deep within my soul. That love was what I craved more than anything in this world. In that search, in those studies, I found the answer. God is love. We were created to love. And we were created to be loved. That’s why I’m a hopeless romantic. Because I know that true love—perfect love—does exist. Because I know it covers me. My absolute favorite quote about love comes from I Peter 4:8: “Above all, love each other deeply because love covers a multitude of sins.” Now that’s power.

Okay, since I can see you’re practically begging, I’ll share one of my early poems about love. (Disclaimer: What you are about to read was not dated so I have no idea how old I was when I wrote it. All I know is that it came from Volume II. Based on the tone, I think I was imagining this is something God would say to me, but I really can’t be sure about that, either.)

Let Me Love You
I long to teach you what the touch of a loving hand can do,
I ache to bring down the walls that surround you.
There is so much I want to share,
I am willing to risk showing you how much I care.
I want to give you the gift of peace,
So your searching may finally cease.
Give me your hand and hold on tight,
And I’ll show you the world in a different light.
A wondrous place where dreams are free,
A place far greater than the world that you see.

Go ahead, laugh again. I sure am! Have you ever written a poem or a profound musing about love? Share yours so I’m not so embarrassed!

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Monday Poll

All I need to know about I learned from...

Posted on February 1, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Sara Richardson

To get in the mood for Valentine’s Day, we’re focusing this week’s posts on that yucky love stuff. Remember when we were young? A little more naive?  Idealistic? Hopeless romantics? Even now I love to watch the occasional chick flick that makes romance seem simple and unrealistically easy. What about you?  If your fav isn’t listed here, feel free to add it into the comments. Later this week, we’ll reveal the results and talk more about this crazy little thing called love.

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A Sisterhood of Jeans? No way!

Me on the left and Pam--circa 1992 (can't you tell by all that floral??)

Posted on January 28, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Tiffany Kinerson

I’m happy to watch a good chickflick every now and then—as long as you make sure my husband is nowhere in the vicinity (the retching, the snickering, the eye rolling…it’s not worth the “good cry”—trust me!). But as one voice in a sea of high-pitched opinions out there, I’ve got to talk about this one movie. You know the one. Where a group of girls can all magically fit into the same pair of jeans whether the body is long and lean or short and curvy. Yeah, right!

When I was growing up, my older sister, Pam, and I did not compete against each other. Although I often thought the things she did looked fun (dance team, choir…and, yes, an occasional pageant [I am a small town Texas girl after all!]) and therefore followed right behind her white boots or high heels, I never begrudged her successes or attention. Likewise, I don’t remember her begrudging mine (Wait, did I ever actually have any? No, let’s not go there.)

Anyway, my theory on how this could possibly happen between two sisters is that when I looked at her, I knew I would never be her. Never. And I’m pretty sure she knew the same about me. Let’s put it this way: Pam had the classic long and lean body (she actually went on weight gain diets in high school, if you can believe that), she was a dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty who thought deeply and answered wisely. She did not try to entertain people, she said what she thought and moved on in intelligent competence and confidence.

Hee-hee! All I can say about all those things is I did not. Or was not.

I have brown hair now, but when I was growing up, my mom and I thought it’d be fun to “play” with my hair. It was always Farrah Fawcett blonde. And hot rolled. Sometimes permed—and severed from over-processing! I have blue eyes. My body is what I kindly refer to now as “athletic”: I am of medium height and curvy (by the way, always on weight restriction on the dance team [yes, we had weight limits (remember? Smalltown Texas) and, no, it didn’t scar me]). I talk way too much for my own good and always think people want to hear the funny quips that arise from the broken depth of my brain. In short, I was born with a silver foot in my mouth. Intelligent, maybe, but sometimes you have to wade through the silliness to find it.

My sister and I did not—nor will we ever—fit in the same pair of jeans. Never. It would be craziness to even consider such a thing.

As I think through that fact, I believe the lesson learned here is that once a woman can come to terms with both who she is and who she is not, then she can be free to live the life she needs to live. Not attempting to shove herself into some mold impressed upon her by outside forces. Choosing only to live comfortably within her skin as well as her favorite pair of jeans. Which certainly are not my sister’s favorite. And probably aren't yours, either.

Let’s do a little poll. What are your best-fitting favorite jeans? And tell us why. Let’s celebrate our differences and the beautiful variety God placed on the earth in our individual styles and shapes.

I’ll go first. Levi’s 515 Bootcut are the best! They button just above my hips but don’t dig into my stomach or pull my unders down. The flare at the leg gives my bod a sassy curve without making me look dowdy. Oh, but it can’t be the stonewashed color; I learned that the lighter color also means 1% less spandex. For some reason this matters.

Now it’s your turn. Leave a comment (btw, if you subscribed to us, you can leave a comment by clicking on the home page) and let's show what travelling pants really look like: multi-colored and fitted. And that's what sisterhood is really about--encouraging one another into who you are. 

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Listen Up!

Posted on January 26, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Tiffany Kinerson

“…Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak….” James 1:19

My friend, Karol, is a great listener. As I’ve observed her in conversations, I’ve begun to take note of the specific non-verbal pointers she teaches through day-to-day interactions. Here are the top three, as they come to my mind:

#1—She seems to care about what’s going on in the other person’s life. When my husband came home from a mission trip recently, Karol was the only one who actually asked to see his pictures and hear his stories. Not that I think surrendering yourself to 500 slides of your friend’s latest exploits is a requirement, it’s just that she really wanted to give him a chance to talk about the exciting times he got to have on his first mission trip. It was fun for him, a good chance to de-brief on an important milestone. She seems to actually rejoice when we rejoice and mourn when we mourn. Which leads me to the next tip.  
 
#2—She simply listens. What I mean by this is she doesn’t do either of the following: one-up your story by telling her own (and better!) adventure or use your story to re-direct the conversation back to herself. With Karol, I’ve never heard anything near, “you think that’s good? Well, wait ‘til you hear this one!” (Actual words I have heard from some of the poorer listeners in my life—God? Me. Will You keep me from being that person? Please.) Karol lets the other person talk until they’re actually finished talking. She’s not afraid of “dead air.” Often after I’ve said my spiel, she thinks for a moment and then responds. This means she doesn’t figure out what she should say while I talk. She just listens, which involves the next important step.

#3—She doesn’t interrupt. I’ve seen her lean forward, her face bright with a new statement. Then I’ve watched her catch herself. She pulls back into her chair and shuts her mouth, actually folding her hands onto the table. She then awaits an appropriate “in” for her interjection. It’s amazing, really. How many times have you sat back and noticed that your pile of friends sound like a bunch of cackling hens, unlistening, growing in volume as they interrupt, speak up, and fight for airtime? When Karol’s around, it seems her calm leadership tends to encourage others to behave in a similar manner. Or at least she has that affect on me. We hear one another. We talk. There are natural breaks in conversation. Times to think. And it’s okay.

Conversations with her are calm and fulfilling. I think one of the reasons I call her a good friend is because of her fabulous listening skills. What about you? Do you have any good listeners in your life? Bad listeners? What have you learned from these people?

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