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Next Christmas is right around the corner.

I really enjoyed Christmas this year. That's all. Here's some pictures:

1. Aunt GeGe's Christmas tree.


2. Cousin Mitzi and her son, second cousin Joshua.


3. Mom and second cousin Lindsay.


4. A close-up of the spread at Courtney's.


5. Courtney admires Clint's festive attire.


6. Chocolate éclair cake is delicious.


7. Clint's has always been a good dog.

Merry Christmas

It's Christmas morning and I'm having my coffee and beginning to plot my move back into normal life. Oh, I've still got some of that twinkling lights and candy and presents stuff coming up, but I'm a big fan of everyday life. I'm not really a grinch or anything. I just like my regular day-to-day, therefore starting around Thanksgiving, I begin to long for January second.

Earlier, I got sidetracked. I was reading the blog of someone I don't really know (a guilty pleasure) and she was having this whole "deep-thoughts" assessment of her year. I would assess her year by saying that she makes a bunch of trouble for herself and then when she doesn't get killed or institutionalized but lives to blog about it, pats herself on the back and calls herself "stronger" for it.

Reading this stuff sent me on a whirlwind of thoughts and memories and feelings and prayers. I remember when most of my flesh wounds were self-inflicted. I used to oscillate wildly between thinking that now everything would be OK forever and that I would never recover from my current ill situation. At my core, it was hell. Even when things were good, there was a little fear that they'd go bad again. I'd be in such agony waiting for the other shoe to drop that I'd reach up and try to knock it down myself.

As I tried to plot my path from A to B ("A" being self-destruction and "B" being whatever I'm doing now) the only thing that was constant that I always knew for sure I could count on was a covenant between God and myself. This covenant that we live under is so simple that you can grasp it in it's entirety in an instant, but spend the rest of your life figuring out the magnitude of it's implications. It simply says, "I, God, love you madly and I will do (and in fact have already done) whatever it will take to have you as my own completely." My side of the covenant says, "I, Robbie, surrender."

People who love God will hear this and swoon as they are again reminded of all of their own adventures in surrendering, of giving up their own agendas, knowing how hard that is to do. Some may even be wrestling with their own desires that they're having trouble giving over and I hope they read it and focus in on the "whatever it will take" part and know that God will not give up on them no matter what and that they will take comfort in the "love you madly" part, knowing that he means them no harm but that his plan is for their success.

The people who hate God have probably already stopped reading at this point. They like being their own God and have already asked a billion "tough questions" that they don't really want to have answered. They just want to argue against God's goodness. "What about gay marriage? What about babies who die of horrible diseases? What if a woman who was raped wants an abortion? What about child molesters and wife beaters and all the other horrifying things that your God lets happen to people?"

They ask these questions as though they are already answered and then walk away. I would challenge them, if they'd give me time, to ask those questions of God himself, and keep asking until they are satisfied. Don't ask the Church, because I'm sorry to say, she doesn't always know as much as she acts like she does. But she'll get there, so don't give up on her. Also, don't gather up two pieces of the puzzle that you don't like and throw them away thinking that's all there is. The more pieces you gather and the more you're able to make fit, you start to see a big beautiful picture that no man could design.

Psht. I didn't mean to go on a tangent. All I meant to really say is that God really does love you and don't eat too much fudge today. That's what Christmas really means.

Coffeepot in the bathroom.

I love staying in a hotel.

I'm at the Hampton Inn in scenic Dublin, VA right now. I stay at a hotel when I visit my family. Some people think that's weird, but I'm pretty sure it's the best decision I ever made. As much as I love people, I am an introvert according to Myers-Briggs, so I need my own space and time to get away in order to recharge. That doesn't happen if your mom is in your face from the moment to wake up until you go back to sleep.

I had the most restful night last night. I try to be a pretty restful person at home, but even when I'm actively resting, I still see all the things that need my attention around me. Here at the Hampton Inn, I was able to just sit the recliner that's in this room (I MUST get one of these) and read, watch a little TV and enjoy a frosty cold beverage before sleeping like a baby. That's much better preparation for a visit with extended family than my usual tear down I-81 in holiday traffic for 4 hours and then walk right into a room that's too hot and packed with people that I've known my whole life but still don't really know.

Now I'm going to head downstairs for a complimentary hot breakfast before going over to pick up my mom and venture out to my aunt's house where the whole family will be gathering.

There will be pictures soon. This "thousand words" business is getting old.

Party Down

I went to the wildest party last night.

By 9:00, nearly everyone was laughing uncontrollably or passed out on the floor. Everyone gradually pulled themselves together and made their way to the kitchen to hang out for a little while, just talking and stuff. Eventually, we found ourselves back in the living room, more out of our minds than before. People were having visions and others were giving interpretations. I could hardly hold my head up. There were still occasional fits of laughter. It was all terribly undignified. Around 1:00 AM, I staggered out to my car and headed home.

There were no drugs or alcohol at this party at all. The most intoxicating thing I partook of was some Wild Cherry Pepsi. Admittedly, that stuff could probably do some damage, but I only had a couple of glasses over the course of the whole evening and not on an empty stomach.

We were just gathering to pray and to worship God. I'm pretty sure God was having a really good time. He likes to see his children having fun. The Holy Spirit is by far the wildest person I've ever met. You never know what to expect with him, except that it will be good and that it will change your life for the better.

I've been exposed to this kind of movement of the Holy Spirit before, but honestly, I always had suspicions. I mean, sometimes people fake it. That's just a fact. And I always wondered: even if they're not faking, what's the point? Why roll around on the floor like a freakshow?

I'll tell you, I still don't really get it. But what I do get is how it rolls over into my life and into the lives of the others that I know who are into loving God this way. I see change in my life and in others'. If I didn't, I don't think I'd be convinced. But people, including me, are being set free from all kinds of neuroses and unhealthy compulsions simply by hanging out with God. We're not doing any kind of programs or studies. Programs and studies are great and I think people should do them because they give understanding. But they won't actually do the healing, not at all. You need the Man with the Plan for that.

I'm also seeing (in myself and others) a gorgeous refreshing of love for God. People are openly ga-ga for him, and rightfully so. He's fantastic in every way. We're all kind of obsessed with him and desiring new and creative ways to serve him. I hear all kinds of testimonies of simple obediences right alongside hearing about lifelong desires and callings of the people around me. And it's not about choosing a cause and going after it. It's about seeing what God is doing in your life and just wanting to be with him because you don't want to be anywhere else.

I recently heard about a guy who's going around having conferences talking about how he's taking back all this stuff from drug culture and giving it to God. He slops around like a big mess, pantomiming hypodermic needles and joints and stuff and then talking about God (when he can talk, that is). When I first saw it, I was way turned off. I thought it was sending all kinds of wrong messages and was just another way that somebody with a platform was making Christians look stupid. But over the last couple of days, God has been kind of dealing with my heart on the issue in a couple of different ways that I won't go into right now.

The culmination came last night when I mockingly took an imaginary joint to my lips and took an imaginary hit. As I exhaled, it went straight to my head and I went down on the floor laughing. The last words I could say for a few minutes were, "But I was just faking!" God was not faking, however. I really couldn't get up for a while, nor did I want to. It felt really good. The mocker in me was dying and thank God for that. I kept my imaginary joint with me for the rest of the evening, hitting on it occasionally and sometimes passing it to others. It was pretty good stuff, even if it was highly undignified.

There's a song that goes, "I will be more undignified than this." I think I get it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go "toke the Ghost" for a while.

Just for kicks

I just wanted to blog a little bit more because it's so easy now. And posting pictures is ridiculously easy.

I shall now search my disk for three random pictures.

The Carpenters.

Me in Mexico.














Drumsynth.

New Years resolution accomplished.

With time to spare, even.

The only thing I really wanted to get done this year was to graduate to a real (sort of), grown-up (sort of)) blog. AKA, not on myspace. I think this is going to be much easier to use, and therefore used more frequently.

Here's me so excited to have created a new blog:



You can expect it to just get better and better.