Fancy Flirtin'

I feel like sacrifice to some extent is vital for executing one’s dreams. For me, I dream of being married and serving my family, of waking up early on Saturday to make my husband breakfast in bed after his long week of working hard, of having lemonade stands with all the kids in the neighborhood, of going on long runs with the family dog, of kissing cute kiddos to bed after checking under their bunk to confirm the absence of imagined monsters. But because I am married not, nor am I close to the day of the wedding that opens the door to said marriage, these fantasies are yet to become realities. I’m not saying I have to sacrifice the husband part because that obviously negates much of the dream… kind of the whole thing. But I do have to make sacrifices to the person I am and to the things that I love in order to be able to step into a marriage with a man that I will already butt heads with because of natural differences. I fear most that I must let go of my comfortable character. You see, I am least overwhelmed in my personhood of being a people pleaser. I'm a waitress and still I shy away from taking earned money from the table that it lies on in fear of offending those who still sit there. Sure I’m off the clock and need to go home but I want those people I've served to enjoy their ability to visit without my fat fingers interrupting the flow of their conversation. To my dismay I drive my life with much effort of avoiding an offensive experience. I can't imagine I'd be faultless in my attempts within marriage; that reality makes me quite uneasy.

I’m sitting here at Starbucks, the place where most ideas come together in a more organized fashion, thinking about where my life is and where I’d like for it to be. For the most part they’re one in the same. Someday soon, though, I want to be a nice married lady. I am slightly convinced, however, that I’ll endure this life without a spouse and am joyfully readying my heart as it’s stayed single since the day after the last day I had a boyfriend. Alex Bolves was his name and he was a true gem of a fella. It’s been over 3 years since we parted and I’ve come to understand God’s sovereignty in the blessing of not pulling him down into the darkness of my life but instead breaking off the courtship so he could run free from lifelong sorrow with the young woman I was. By no means do I doubt that much goodness would have come into my life if we continued dating as he brought me much happiness throughout our relationship. But I think that much good has worked out for the both of us in having broken up.

Watching the many families come through the popular coffee stop seems to make my head tilt slightly to the left and my eyes get all puppy dog-like with the heartfelt notion of, “I want that.” But here's the thing, alongside God's inevitable control over every aspect of my future, I’m much too cowardly to get it. When a foxy gentleman catches my eye I'm virtually incapable of putting myself in his way. I think it very necessary for the fella to do the ultimate effort in pursuing a lady as an expression of winning the most lovely prize but I completely agree with women "putting themselves out there" in order to communicate, “I’m alittle interested, dummy.” When it comes down to it, I do not want to do that. While I’m rather flirtatious in common exchanges with guy friends, any ounce of playful conversation escapes me when I’m attracted to a gent (by attracted I mean I can picture our wedding in my brain). It’s as though my insides get all frozen. Hopefully survival mode will turn on when “The One” makes his grand entrance into my life and I'll be the best flirt in all the land. Until then, I’ll sit at Starbucks with my back turned to anyone who comes through the door, unknowing of any foxy fellas.  

Lil Bow Wow

There is something that must be known in order to begin to understand the workings of the madness in my brain: movies were quite cardinal throughout my childhood and early adulthood. Those who are completing their adolescence as young Castagnos still watch many movies. I still watch a fair share even though the place of my residence is no longer in Snoqualmie with my quirky parents. My dad considers sitting in front of the television an ideal bonding experience. Even when I drive out to visit, he gets feisty when we play cribbage because of the noise interruption. When new movies (and by new I do not mean recently released. For example, we had an infatuation with “3 Ninjas” when I was fifteen. I think that movie was made before my birth.) would come about we would watch them innumerably. And those movies are what we call Castagno Movies. I won’t ever forget the Slumdog Millionaire Christmas. We watched the film three times within the twenty four hours of the holiday.

With that being said, a few of us play basketball every Monday night. We play pretty competitively and I enjoy it very much. And every time I hear the word “basketball” I think of Lil Bow Wow’s song featured on “Like Mike;” you know, the movie about the orphan who gets magic shoes that give him professional skills.  “Like Mike” was a Castagno Movie. In fact, I have a sudden urge to snuggle up with my sisters and joyfully endure the entirety of that genius work of American entertainment.

I hope not to communicate that I’d prefer not to play basketball as it is a rich source of happiness in my life but there is a smidgen little part of me that has an itty-bitty amount of push back. First of all, my legs are so sore after having played tonight. I’ve not ever taken ibuprofen for achy muscles but the anti-inflammatory suddenly sounds delicious. Next, my back sweats like a dude's. And I am embarassed. Also, the intensity and competitiveness of the event takes a toll on my pursuit of femininity. I grew up being rather boyish because the tomboy phase was in (that’s what my mother told me). As I’ve learned to understand the gospel a bit more I’ve desired to leave the lifestyle of attempting masculinity and be a real lady as scripture tells me what beautiful womanhood looks like. It’s not as though the sport of basketball, in itself, makes me manly but the aggression and vitality to be victorious affects the weight of my questioning. Jake, one of my fellow basketballers, made a comment that Tayler, another lady player, and I could kill each other out there on that court. We do accidentally scratch one another sometimes since we're usually guarding each other. His remark sits at the bottom of my soul, chewing its way into my heart, making me cringe at the regard of the memory because oh, how I want to be attractive in my feminine appeal!
I suppose, however, that playing ball is not the ultimate guide of being a biblical woman. And we do all grow in understanding of each other as much is learned about each person because of reactions caused by the intense energy. Okay, bball is redeemed; I can keep playing. And because I love the intense work out with my friends I will certainly do so. Maybe if I get married one day I'll stop because it's weird when husband and wife play recreationally together. I'll hang out in the kitchen and have cookies ready when he comes home J  

Shark Week

I don’t like coffee and I wouldn’t choose to garnish my treats with whipped cream but buy me a Coconut Mocha Frappuccino and I’ll consider your marriage proposal. The taste of coffee is usually bitter and awful, but when blended with the likely abundance of sugar and mixed and topped with the delectably toasted coconut I could drink the tall size (I keep it small to keep the love handles from excitedly leaping out the top of my jeans) in a quick jiffy! It’s that delicious and worthy of my praise.

I am surprised at myself. I came to Starbucks to get out of the house before my 3 o’clock shift. I was feeling pretty dry, not too excited about life. This was made evident by a wasted morning. I sat on the couch for two hours; I watched two roommates ready and leave for work, one go on a 3 mile run, and another feed her family the first meal of their day then entertain them with her sweet motherly affection – all while I sat watching a couple episodes from Shark Week and of Wilfred, a new series the fellas have found. Okay seriously, Wilfred is freaking preposterous but mysteriously intriguing and I can’t help but laugh so very hard. Maybe the morning wasn’t a complete waste since I got to laugh with some roommates throughout the two hours, but my zeal for enduring the day has been slothful, my spirit has been all but fervent. And I come to this nice little coffee shop and be passionate about a drink – a drink whose quick entrance into my insides has caused me an instant ache. I’m going to read through the first chapter of Romans with a hope that the Holy Spirit will awaken my passion for Christ so that I don’t run to other things that are coffee drinks when I feel convicted about my lack-luster attitude. I don’t even like coffee. Get it together, Cor.

The First

I have been seriously considering the starting of writing my own blog for alittle while. I enjoy writing, don't hate the attention I get from others who read it and love Jesus more for granting me repentance in response to the Holy Spirit convicting me of my excessive pride. I do have to prayerfully avoid sin and desire to have a humble, feminine heart to praise Jesus that I love to write and sometimes write well, and I hope to avoid stupidity in so doing.  

My cute wedded friend, Sarah, recently started one and her sweet, new life has much to offer the people she knows; she therefore tells us about her wonderful adventures via blog. I am slightly hesitant. Not only do I not have a witty name available for publication but I’m not the brightest. I fear that I will be incapable to convey the passions of my heart to others. I suppose, then, that the goal of said published thoughts would be in hope of compelling others unto Christ; that the passion He has given me would motivate others to worship and live obediently in love for Him. I want so badly for the friends I have to know Jesus as I do and would desire for God to use my heart to call more people to Himself. I trust that He will in one way or another but fear that I’ll fail.

Sarah just got married. Her life is new and exciting and she has fun things to tell others about. So people follow her blog. When I quickly consider my own life I wouldn’t think it’s exciting enough to tell people about. When people ask me how I’m doing and what I’m up to, I always say, “Still involved at Doxa, still working at Red Robin. It’s plain and I love it.” The wonderful reality of that “simplicity” is completely beautiful. I’m a true fan of being the plainest of all Janes. I don’t even put sauces on my sandwiches when I order a delicious 6-inch sub at Subway; “plain and dry,” I tell them. It took me 21 years to start dressing more confidently (I didn’t ever used to wear blouses, but now have lovely pairs of boots to accent their niceness.) in fear of standing out too much. I’m simple; simplicity brings me comfort and joy. What I don’t convey, though, in the small talk of quick response to the common question is that the life I live is extravagantly exciting. Moving to Renton to see Doxa Community Church grow into a real community of people is the craziest thing I’ve done and the effects have been quite revealing. Finding a job at South Center Red Robin, Home of the Smiling Burger is the place that I entered in hopes of seeing my friends there come to know Christ. Through the incredible pain that has been endured throughout, I’ve gained an ever growing understanding of my utter dependence on Christ, which has enhanced most other avenues of my growth. And, to seal the deal of convincing you that I’ve grown, I let Melina Dennis color my hair bleachy blonde (self-conscious ladies don’t do that) I lost some of the baby weight that seemed to reappear after I graduated high school. I’ve come to praise Jesus as the levels of confidence that I’ve not ever experienced have come upon me because of His goodness to me. Much of the slavery to self-hatred has lessened and I desire to glorify Him with the body He’s blessed me with. Still, I think I’m too pudgy to be attractive, but we’re getting close to true self-confidence because of true confidence in God the Father. (Funny how me, a lady, has spoken of love for simplicity as this last paragraph is the most confusing, complex expression of thought. Girls are complex and confusing, I’ll admit it. Oh, the irony…)

Through all that rubbish that is my life I hope to communicate that because of the sovereign will of God, I live in Renton to tell people about Him and I’ve been blessed with Doxa as a people to help me endure the challenge it is. Through this new blog of mine I want to tell people of the adventure as a chance to express what living according to the Scriptures is like. I want to struggle through this life, encouraging others unto Him because of Him and to express the gospel; that even when I fail in the many ways that I will (I’ll tell when I do), the redeeming work of Jesus on the cross will portray the beautiful grace of God abundantly.

Movie Thoughts

Pride; grace; pride and grace; God’s graciousness according to my pride and expressed, in essence, because of my pride. I don’t entirely understand. By my comprehension and particular weakness in the effort of imparting my character on Christ rather than God’s character unto me, I don’t think it to be necessary for God to be so good to me as I so willingly choose sin.

On a level of simplicity and usual mindlessness, I’m only watching “What Women Want” with Brian, Ryan and Tayler. We finished watching Russell Brand’s “Arthur” and continue to enjoy the laziness of our post-Ezelle’s Famous Chicken dinner outing. It’s likely that I’m the only one suffering a mass food-baby as I consumed an abundance of peanut M&Ms for my movie-time snack. While many laughable comments made throughout any experience with our particular bunch are shallow and plain (but most usually thoughtful and good), the fellas’ having commented on their thankfulness of not knowing what women secretively think made me, well, secretively (and productively think as I’ve committed said thoughts to prayer) think about what it is that I secretively think about. When I considered what they’d hear upon listening to my thoughts I obviously felt shame as there are many undisciplined ideas that make way through the foolishness of my brain having come from the darkness of my heart: much lust in that I’m not as pure as I like to lead on - I fear for the day that I’m tempted by an attractive boy who shows interest in me; excessive selfishness as I feel entitled to things of which I am incredibly undeserving; but mostly I’ve been thinking of the God’s grace to me. I live in a house full of people whose sin I often weigh more heavily than I should and in a twisted scheme of considering myself more highly than they I selfishly elevate myself in my heart and thus sin against them. I hurt these people I love and react to their expressions of kindness in hurtful manners and am therefore deemed to be an unfair and poor friend in return to their generosity of care. And by the blood of Christ, they are nothing but patient and compassionate toward me. Through these roommates with whom I’ve been allowed to live God has been incredibly patient and compassionate and it just doesn’t sit well, I guess. I do understand that I am very weak and won’t understand God’s beautiful mysteriousness, but I’d be much more comfortable wish harsh discipline. I deserve to be spit out of this house but am instead cared for more softly. It’s as though He anticipated and knows of the reaction I’d experience and gave me His grace because of it as it’d be most effective in my desire and fear for Him.