Shut Down

When I get overwhelmed, when I get hurt, when I get stressed, when my heart is broken, the same thing always happens. I take a step back, breathe deep... And shut down. Real mature and healthy, I know. That is the true reason behind the lapses in posting any original pieces. Yep, that's me, mature and healthy! So what changed? Definitely not my circumstances. No, last night I went to the movies. I can hear those of you who know me laughing right now. Where else would Lara go to have a WAKE UP moment than to the movies?

Well, it wasn't just the movie, which I'm sure you are just now figuring out was Julie & Julia. It was the combination of the story with Panera's amazing strawberry/poppy seed salad w/chicken along with Godly fellowship with good & wise friends (who give great counsel, btw!).

So, what has changed? I watched the story of a New York woman who followed a path that shouldn't have worked. And it changed her life. What was it? A blog. Do I think this blog will change my life? I don't know. Do I think it can change your life? Again, I don't know. But I do know this... Shutting down changes nothing and no one. Unless the change we're discussing is rust and decay. So, again, what did I learn from Julie Powell & Julia Child? These two women didn't shut down. They didn't settle for rust or decay. And neither am I.

No, even though I adore cooking, I will not be cooking my way through Julia Child's book for the next 365 days. What I will be doing, however, is staying open. Writing through the stresses of life instead of surfing the web to avoid doing what He has called me to do. Write. I'll be posting soon.

My South

I'm sorry. I know I haven't been keeping up with posting to this blog. When we have alot on our plates & our hearts are tender, this is when we need to touch those tender places and bring them to light, so that we can heal. Evidently, I haven't been doing this, but a friend e-mailed this to me & I wanted to share that with you.

This was written by Robert St. John, executive chef and owner of the Purple Parrot Cafe, Crescent City Grill and Mahogany Bar of Hattiesburg , MS.

My South
Thirty years ago I visited my first cousin in Virginia. While hanging out with his friend, the discussion turned to popular movies of the day. When I offered my two-cents on the authenticity and social relevance of the movie Billy Jack, one of the boys asked, in all seriousness; “Do you guys have movie theaters down there?” To which I replied, “Yep. We wear shoes too.”

Just three years ago, my wife and I were attending a food and wine seminar in Aspen, Colo. We were seated with two couples from Las Vegas. One of the Glitter Gulch gals was amused and downright rude when I described our restaurant as a fine-dining restaurant... “Mississippi doesn't have fine-dining restaurants!” she insisted and nudged her companion. I fought back the strong desire to mention that she lived in the land that invented the 99-cent breakfast buffet. I wanted badly to defend my state, my region, and my restaurant with a 15-minute soliloquy and public relations rant that would surely change her mind. It was at that precise moment that I was hit with a blinding jolt of enlightenment, and in a moment of complete and absolute clarity it dawned on me -- my South is the best-kept secret in the country. Why would I try to win this woman over? She might move down here.

I am always amused by Hollywood 's interpretation of the South. We are still, on occasion, depicted as a collective group of sweaty, stupid, backwards-minded, racist rednecks. The South of movies and TV, the Hollywood South, is not my South.

This is my South: My South is full of honest, hardworking people.

My South is the birthplace of blues and jazz, and rock n' roll. It has banjo pickers and fiddle players, but it also has BB King, Muddy Waters, the Allman Brothers, Emmylou Harris and Elvis.

My South is hot. My South smells of newly mowed grass. My South was kick the can, creek swimming, cane-pole fishing and bird hunting.

In my South, football is king, and the Southeastern Conference is the kingdom.

My South is home to the most beautiful women on the planet.

In my South, soul food and country cooking are the same thing.

My South is full of fig preserves, cornbread, butter beans, fried chicken, grits and catfish.

In my South, our transistor radios introduced us to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones at the same time they were introduced to the rest of the country.

In my South, grandmothers cook a big lunch every Sunday, so big that we call it dinner (supper comes later).

In my South, family matters, deeply. My South is boiled shrimp, blackberry cobbler, peach ice cream, banana pudding and cream pies.

In my South people put peanuts in bottles of Coca-Cola and hot sauce on almost everything.

In my South the tea is iced and almost as sweet as the women.
My South has air-conditioning.

My South is camellias, azaleas, wisteria and hydrangeas.

In my South, the only person that has to sit on the back of the bus is the last person that got on the bus.

In my South, people still say 'Yes, ma'am,' 'No ma'am,' 'Please' and 'Thank you.'

In my South, we all wear shoes....most of the time..

My South is the best-kept secret in the country. Please continue to keep the secret....it keeps the idiots away.

Not doing a great job at keeping it secret. Oh, well...

The Climb

There's always gonna be another mountain

I'm always gonna wanna make it move

Always gonna be an uphill battle

Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there

Ain't about what's waiting on the other side

It's the Climb

Recorded by Miley Cyrus

Written by J. Alexander, J. Mabe

Memorial Day 2009

I never thought that this is where I'd settle down,

I thought I'd die an old man back in my hometown,

They gave me this plot of land,

me and some other men,for a job well done.

There's a big white house sits on a hill just up the road,

The man inside he cried the day they brought me home,

They folded up a flag, and told my mom and dad,

'We're proud of your son'.

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property,

I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company,

I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I've done,

I can rest in peace,

I'm one of the chosen ones,

I made it to Arlington.

I remember daddy brought me here when I was eight,

We searched all day to find out where my granddad lay,

And when we finally found that cross,

He said, 'Son this is what it cost, to keep us free'.

Now here I am a thousand stones away from him,

He recognized me on the first day I came in,

And it gave me a chill, when he clicked his heels, and saluted me.

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property,

I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company,

And I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I've done,

I can rest in peace,

I'm one of the chosen ones,

I made it to Arlington.

And every time I hear, twenty-one guns,

I know they brought another hero home, to us.

We're thankful for those thankful for the things we've done,

We can rest in peace, 'cause we were the chosen ones,

We made it to Arlington, yea, dust to dust

Don't cry for us, we made it to Arlington.

Sung by Trace Adkins

Written by:

Dave Turnbull & Jeremy N. Spillman

Several years ago, I decided something that I thought was completely original. I decided that our souls need feeding. We feed the physical body (some of us more than others) and we feed the spiritual body (some of us not as much as we should). But what about the soul? How do we feed the soul? My brilliant deduction was through fueling our passions and taking time out for ourselves.

A little while later, my pastor preached a sermon on the different types of gas tanks that we have. Of course, he used my own analogy, but I don't think he plagiarized it from me. No, I think I wasn't the original one. He basically said that we spend so much time filling one or two tanks and ignore the other(s). And that puts us out of balance. While spending all our time with Christian tasks, we may feel fulfilled spiritually but we are missing something. If we (as I tend to do) run to the pantry or refrigerator for every emotion, we loose our physical health. In the past, I thought those were the only things that I had to fill.

I was in the North Carolina mountains with friends when I realized that I was filling up something that was neither of the two tanks. I could almost feel my soul taking deep breaths of the mountain air. I feel it every time I escape from the monotony of life. I feel it now that I am on vacation in Orange Beach, AL with very special friends. It's here that I tend to fill all three tanks. We do eat well, possibly too well. I feel His presence so clearly watching the beauty of His creation. It's easier to speak with Him here. And, like I wrote before, I feel my soul take deep breaths.

Life has not changed. Work is still waiting. Bills are still coming in the mail. But I'm on a retreat and feeling Him close to me. You don't have to drive to a beach or the mountains to feed your soul. Sometimes it's as easy as sitting with a good book. Or walking through a garden. Or a drive down a road you've never been just to see where it goes. Take a moment. Breathe deeply. Close your eyes and think about Him. Think about Him in a place you love. He's there waiting to just be with you. To just help you feed your soul.

With love, from the Gulf Coast.

Once Upon A Time...

I love stories. It's the primary way in which I communicate. It's how I view the world. I like to use that as an excuse as to why I love movies & TV so much. Lisa & I have books hidden, tucked and on display all through our house. I carry a book with me just about everywhere I go. When there are free moments throughout my day, I reach for it. There's a joke in my family that Lara can never tell a short story. It's true. I just feel that you need to know the back story to understand the 'now' story. Hard to follow isn't it? You should try being the one saying it :D

A young man visited our home group tonight. A few years ago, we supported him as he followed the Call to an especially difficult mission field. I can't tell you his name or where he went, but I can tell you that the Lord sent him there. He and his team witnessed the Hand of the Lord over and over. The coolest way that they shared the Gospel was through story telling. Story telling is a universal language. Most of us respond to it. In various cultures, their heritage is passed down from generation to generation through story telling. In a world that normally takes three + years to see lives changed by the gospel, this team saw eighteen people choose to follow Christ. And all through story telling.

Once these people heard the story of Jesus, they became passionate about it. They did so because the story tellers were (and are) passionate about it. Here, in the States, we have an abundance of stories. And so many of them are captivating. Which ones are you passionate about? The 'boldly go where no one has gone before...'; the 'don't go near the basement...'; the 'boy meets girl'? How many of them captivate you? What about the one where God came to earth just to die for you? Does it captivate you? Are you passionate about it? Why aren't we? Why do those others push it (the most important of all stories) to the back of our minds? When will we realize that the stories written in between those pieces of leather are the only ones that can truly change us? That those are the only eternal stories and all the others will fade?

The 'Perfect' & the 'Dream'

Don't you HATE work? Or am I the only one? I really believe that I was made to be independently wealthy. There must have been some mistake along the way. Kindergarten teachers & music ministers don't make the kind of money that can make their kids wealthy. But it's a dream of mine, none the less. In earlier posts, I've mentioned that I struggle with finding the 'perfect'. You know, the perfect job. The perfect church. The perfect friends. Why is there a word like perfect when it's unattainable in this life? Oh, yeah. He's perfect. He even walked this same earth that you & I do. Maybe it's because we need Him in our lives so much, that we all search for this 'perfect'.

Today was one of those days. Sure it's Monday, which is bad enough on its own, but it went beyond that. The people I encountered were no more irritating than usual. The phone rang no more often than it does any other Monday. So what was different? Me & my attitude. They, to put it bluntly, sucked. I didn't want to be at work today. My doctor's inability to make a decision has not changed, but today it infuriated me. The talkativeness of co-workers made me want to scream. Patients and pharmaceutical reps asking the same question that I've heard & tried to answer for almost a year now were like fingernails on a chalkboard.

And I wanted my 'dream job'. Want to know what that job is? Well, so do I!!! Down deep, I realize that there is no 'dream job'. Every job has its irritants. Every job has its own politics. I hate politics! Sure I could find another job that might make me happy for a year or two. Ok, maybe not in this economy, but that's not the point. The point is my job made me unhappy today. But it's not my job's responsibility to make me happy in the first place. Lisa offered sound advise tonight. Pray. Not for a new job. But pray and give the day and this job to Him. Think it will work? Me, too.

And if you hear some screams from the North Birmingham area, just ignore them. I'll be ok :D