I recently caught an episode of Ellen where the youtube sketch team from Australian, SketchShe got the chance to perform a live version of their viral video – a lipsync of Bohemian Rhapsody in a car. It was cute. But what caught my attention was a portion of Ellen’s interview with them where one of the girls mention that five years prior she had written in her journal, on her bucket list, that she wanted to be on the Ellen show.
Bucket lists became all the rage after Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman’s movie of the same name. But I think that it’s more than a passing fancy. There is something to writing down our wildest dreams and desires.
- It forces us to articulate what we want. One of the toughest questions we can be asked is, “What do you want?” It’s the question Jesus always asked those who approached him. He could see their heart, he knew. But they had to ask for it. Giving voice to what is inside of our hearts and minds helps to make them real. Through it we become vulnerable to what matters to us most.
- It helps us move into a new reality. I think that we often live in denial or in distraction of what we want the most. We pretend it doesn’t matter. We convince ourselves we can live without it. We don’t think its important enough. We decide others are more important. Our reasons may be noble, out of fear, survival or disappointment.
- Accomplishing or experiencing just one of our dreams is the gateway to a better life. It takes hope to belief which builds our faith in ourselves and in God. Proverbs says that a hope deferred makes the heart sick, but the tree of life is a longing fulfilled. Sometimes through life experience our hope died because it never materialized. There are some dreams we have to let go of and embrace something new.
But often these dreams are just the beginning. They are the biggest we can see for ourselves in the moment but once we accomplish them it opens our world to something even greater. I think it is also a matter of getting in touch with our true selves. These desires represent our authentic selves. The person we dream of being. The types of experiences that will propel into the life we want. Now we can see why we have to get them out into the open.
Bill Johnson, senior leader at Bethel Redding says, “Words create worlds.” There is power in what we speak it out loud. At my church we call that declaring. We declare God’s word. We declare Scripture. We declare our promises. Because that is how we get it into and out of our hearts and into existence.When God created the world he declared. He said, “Let there be light.” We are made in his image. He gave us dominion over the earth. Jesus death gave us the keys to life. So we have the power of that resurrection inside of us, so what can’t we do?
What do we have to do? We have to make the decision to partner with what He wants to do in and through ourselves. Are we in alignment and agreement with who He says that we are? He celebrates us. He likes us. He wants us to become our authentic selves. I believe when we do, it’s an act of worship.
So it behooves us to be honest, first with ourselves. What do we want in our heart of hearts? Many times the answer is surprising. What if money were no object? What if everyone you loved was taken care of? What if you were all of the sudden enough, because HE is enough and we are completely loved?
It all starts with our relationship with God and knowing who we are in Him. He will illuminate to us how he sees us and who he created us to be. Then we can be in touch with our true hearts desire. To know Him is to know ourselves and our true hearts desires. He put them there. Of course he wants them to come to life.
So what do you want?
Start dreaming. Start writing. Start declaring.
I started a new job recently.
I’m incredibly grateful for it. It’s been a bit since I’ve had a meaningful job. This job could really be something. Not only is it in my field (marketing) it’s working for an organization I whole-heartedly support. It’s awesome, but it’s also new. Newness scares me. New means unfamiliar. New means uncertainty. New means unknown expectations. This generally sends me into a frenzy of perfectionism wanting to know everything I can before I can move forward. I let it make me a micro-manager and doubt. Not a good space. Read the rest of this entry
The other day I was teasing Jordy that he was silly. The very first response out of his mouth, through the laughter, was “I’m not silly, I’m awesome.”
I just laughed it off. After all, Jordy does not have a problem with his self-esteem. He is a star and he’ll tell you so. But later I was telling Mike, my brother/Jordy’s dad, about it and he said something that has stuck with me. He said, “Don’t you wish we had the sense to do that in our lives, to refuse to accept what other people say about us that isn’t what we know to be true.”
She was a princess and duchess. She lived in the palace with the Queen of England. She had her prince. She had a fairytale life.
Sarah Margaret Ferguson seemed to have it all. But she lost it and for the past 15 years she’s known more for scandal than being royal – topless photos, a divorce from her prince, ballooning and shrinking weight, amassing large amounts of debt, and trying to sell access to her former husband, Prince Andrew.
How could that happen? How could someone squander away their royalty, be so gullible, lost and seemingly crazy? It doesn’t make sense.
My entire life I have been asking myself what color I am and what race I belong to. My mom is a caucasian Irish-American and my dad is Mexican-American. My brother and I are just mixed up and confused. But at long last I discovered some clarity at Wal-Mart.
This dual-race issue has been an interesting journey, at times. Other times it makes no difference at all.
As a child, at my paternal abuelo’s house he would routinely ask us, “Que eres?” (What are you?) – the two choices were Mexican or white. (If you didn’t know, Mexican is both a culture and color in our family.) The answer he was looking for was Mexican. Upon gleefully exclaiming with all of my childish enthusiasm that I was “Messican” he rewarded me with a big smile, hugs, kisses and usually some food.
But that answer was forced to change when we moved to Mexico. There it was pointed out to us again and again that we were not Mexican because we were born in the U.S. so we were American. It didn’t matter where our grandparents were born, it mattered where we were born.
My teacher at the little Mexican-shop-of-scholastic horrors that I attended actually paraded me in front of the class to ask me what it felt like to be white and steal Texas and California from the Mexicans. At 12 I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer this question, having never stolen a state before. Should I feel bad like I did when I was caught stealing candy bars from Wal-Greens in the 5th grade? So the new answer to the question of my life was white, American.
So I should have been ready to go back the U.S. for college. I should have fit right in as a white, American. However, during my freshman year I had a friend, very matter of factly, tell me that I needed to stop wearing pink lipstick because I was not white and it did not look good on me. Alright, so now I’m not white again but am once again ethnic. That’s interesting. Apparently I needed to wear darker lipstick and that would really answer the question once and for all. It would also signal to others that I was indeed Mexican. But at least now I know.
Or did I? The first time I met a former boyfriend’s family his brother made some really racist comments in front of me about Mexicans. The ex and his family were horrified and quickly told him that I was Mexican. He looked at me and said, “well you don’t look Mexican.” I guess I had forgotten to wear my dark-colored lipstick that day. And in all fairness, he didn’t look like an idiot but apparently he was one. So now I’m white and not Mexican/ethnic enough.
But clarity came at Wal-mart once and for all.
I was wandering up and down the make-up aisle and saw that Cover Girl has developed a really sophisticated system for determing the proper shade of foundation by scientifically matching your skin tone. That’s right, all you have to do place your hand under a piece of clear plastic with various colors of foundation on it. Simply find the closest match and voila you have quickly and correctly identified your color.
I am natural buff. One of the lightest shades on the sheet. I am pale white. Sorry Abuelo.
At least now I can figure out what shade of lipstick to wear.