Twilight

As an elementary school teacher and a sort-of-aunt to a young teenager, I am very familiar with the phenomenally popular "Twilight" series. Though the book shot to national acclaim very quickly, it wasn't until the Pine Ridge 1st-12th graders were sporting Twilight bookbags and "I love a Vampire" t-shirts that I became very curious about the franchise.

For those of you who are not familiar with the premise of the story, I will briefly summarize it: A 16 year-old beauty named Bella moves to some po-dunk town in Washington to live with her dad. Soon after enrolling in school, she falls for the strange, but overwhelmingly alluring Edward Cullen. You soon learns that Edward is a vampire who though deeply in love with Bella, also wishes to suck her blood. However, as a 'vegetarian' vampire--meaning he and his family only drink animal blood--he is able to restrain himself. But, not all vampires in the area are so human friendly and soon Bella finds herself being tracked by a group of very-hungry human eating vampires. Can Edward save her? Can Edward's love overcome his desire to devour her? Only time (and three more books) will tell.
(If you read an actual book or movie review about Twilight, it is much more romantic and alluring, but I don't have time to polish this.)

Over the past few months I have become more and more interested and curious about Twilight. However, it wasn't until the last few weeks that I began to realize that there was actually a war going on inside of me. You see, part of me already loved Edward Cullen. As depicted in the previews of the movie, he is ridiculously handsome and clearly devoted to his girl. And I have to admit, his dark, bad-boy edge only ads to the attraction. But another part of me sensed something much, much darker about this series. In fact, over the last few weeks I have become increasingly reminded of another time when I felt a conflict in my soul over a seemingly harmless book. Allow me to share a bit of my past which I think relates to this whole issue.

When I was in grade school, the first Harry Potter book was released. Initially, there was little public backlash, but by the time I had entered by teens, there was a full-scale culture war over the books. This war actually leaked into my home. You could probably guess on which side I fell. My parents initially discouraged me from reading the books, but it wasn't until I was sixteen that that outright forbade me from reading them or having any Harry Potter paraphernalia in the house. Normally, I would have screamed and cried, but ultimately complied. But there was something different about the Potter books. You see, I was addicted. Please understand that I do not use that word lightly. You see, I would stay up in the early hours of the morning reading and re-reading those books. During the day, I was increasingly wishing for the sort of powers that the Potter characters possessed. When my parents banned Potter from the house, I got desperate--really desperate. It was almost as if they had denied me my drugs or cigarettes. That night, I snuck into the room that had the computer. With the lights off and careful not to make a sound, I downloaded the entire Harry Potter audio book onto the computer--no small feet considering that we had dial-up. For the next few nights, I would sneak into the room and listen to bits of the audio. You must understand--I had already read the book multiple times. There was absolutely no natural reason why I should go to such great lengths for a book. However, this sneaking in the dark didn't last very long because that summer I took a two-month long trip to Botswana, Africa. Ironically, on the sands of the Kalhari desert, God brought my Harry Potter addiction to my doorstep. It was there that I realized how much of a hold this book--and the spirits that I believe are behind it--had on me. And so, I made a vow to never again pick up a Harry Potter book or watch any of the movies. Once I returned to the US, honoring that promise was initially extremely difficult, but as time passed, I was released from its bond.

The same war within my soul that occurred seven years ago with the release of the Potter series was resurrected when I watched Twilight for the first time two nights ago. Actually, it started before that because I knew that I shouldn't even buy it, but I did. Within the first five minutes I was hooked. I found the film to be extremely alluring. It was dark--but I liked the darkness. When the movie ended, I literally had to fight the temptation to immediately watch again. Startled by the allure to the movie, I shut my computer down and tried not to think of Twilight again. That was 48 hours ago.

An hour ago, I found myself in the following scenario. My eyes were glued to the computer screen and I was just staring at the file name "Twilight." I knew I shouldn't click it-I had watched it just the night before last, after all. But I seemingly couldn't help myself. I watched ten second clips for about a minute before I shut it off. It was then that I knew I had to get a copy of the book--now. I glanced at the clock and noted that it was 8:00pm. By the time I got myself presentable and left for the nearest bookstore--Rapid--it would be 10:30pm. But the bookstores would be closed...Wal-Mart! Never have been so glad for a 24-hour Wal-Mart!

I went so far as to calculate my return time--probably close to 1:00am--before I nearly shook with shock. What in blazes was I thinking? Was I really going to drive a total of four hours, on a deer-infested-road in the Badlands for a book that I would no doubt read into the early hours of the morning? Perhaps I could rationalize this if it were the Bible or a book that would offer life-saving tips on how to save my neighbor from his deadly rattlesnake bite. But you see, my desire to get my hands on this book was truly unnatural. Indeed, I will go so far as to say that it was evil.

I threw Twilight away. I also found this article that talks about how the author got the inspiration to write the book. Though I don't agree with parts of the article, I was chilled by how the author "received" her ideas. Check it out: http://www.prophezine.com/PZArticles/TheTwilightPhenomena/tabid/800/Default.aspx


Anyway, I am using my little blog-soap-box to suggest that you learn from my experiences and be wary about this book and these movies.

Yours,

B

Unconditional Love

Today, I was considering some of the things in life that bring me inexplicable joy, each time they unfold. I have concluded that one event in the human experience which causes one to feel treasured is the homecoming. Let me explain by giving an example from my life.

As my regular reader(s) know, there is a family here that I consider to be my family. They are Lakota, live very simply and care for seven children. The road to their home is very difficult and dangerous at times. It takes me about 45 minutes to get there during the summer. Despite this, I love making the journey. The scenery is beautiful, I role the windows down, blare the country music and let my hair fly free. It is wonderful. But the best part comes when I reach the top of a bluff about a mile from their home. At this point, I can see their house in the distance and they in turn can see my truck. As I draw closer, I watch as one by one people pour out of the house, much like tiny ants. Soon my truck is near enough so taht I can see that the older girls are grinning and the toddlers are jumping up and down clapping their hands with glee. If I turn my music down, I can here them shouting "MISS BRENDSEL, MISS BRENDSEL!" As I pull my truck up in front of the house and jump out, I am immediately covered in slimy baby kisses and crushed with tight hugs. Though I have made the journey to their home dozens of times now, their reaction is the same every time--sheer joy at my arrival. They don't care if I am not wearing makeup, if I brought them no gift or if I am considered the social pariah of TFA corps. To them I am their aunt who loves them deeply and that is more than enough for them. As for me, seeing their grinning faces at the top of that hill makes me think a bit of my Heavenly Father. I kinda think He gets that excited every time I spend time with Him. Just a thought.

B

P.S. I am 23.5 years-old and I still feel the same excitement that those children feel when my mamma comes home from work.

Elusive Contentment

One of my basketball coaches from high school contacted me today. In his note, he mentioned that my pictures suggested that I was "content and at peace." I have been thinking about those words all day long. Am I content? Am I at peace?

I feel like there is a constant war within my soul. Am I content? Certainly...and certainly not. You see, I am content in knowing that I am exactly where God wants me to be (in terms of geographic location). Throughout this last year, I have never doubted whether or not God wanted me in Pine Ridge. I know He had and has a purpose for me here. But at the same time, I am extremely discontented. You see, my face is literally streaked with tears as I think about the people of Uganda. I want to go back so bad that it literally hurts. I am also discontented with my maturity level in my faith. So am I content? Kinda.

Do I have peace? Yes--perfect peace. I have complete peace in knowing that I am exactly where God wants me. I have peace knowing that God has everything under control. Yes, I have peace. But my soul is also one of the most turbulent of anyone I have encountered. I want so badly to be more obedient and more faithful. I despise myself for my constant compromise and focus on the temporary. I am haunted by negative thoughts of fear and rejection. My soul is, at times, more like a tsunami than cool waters.

So what am I? Who am I?

When you get a clue, let me know.

B

Why I Don't Drink

Soon after I joined TFA, I realized that many of my fellow teachers were very passionate about the art of partying. As a recent graduate from a small, Christian liberal arts college, I was simply appalled by their behavior and was quick to shoot down offers to join in their revelry. As a result, I earned the reputation as social pariah and the official fun-sucker of the corps.

When I returned to Houston this summer, I decided I would take a different approach. Because the majority of school socials that were arranged by our staff centered around alcohol, I found that to hang out with the new corps members, I had to attend these outings. Because visibility as a staff member was important to me, I decided to attend these events anyway, despite the presence/focus of alcohol.

It didn't take long for my CMs to notice that I didn't drink. I had several responses prepared for these questions, each of which was applied according to one's sobriety level. For those sober enough to listen, I told them about how alcohol was responsible for the bruises on my kids' arms or the death of my baby's uncle. Alcohol meant that R's dad couldn't hold down a job or that S's mom was beaten within an inch of her life. I don't drink because I promised the children of Room 170 that as long as I was a teacher, I would never drink. It is a promise that I have kept and will continue to honor.

On the night I returned to Kyle, I was reminded of that promise. I wish those CMs had been able to see what I saw that night for if they had, I would hope that they would be a bit slower to run to the bottle. Here is what happened...

My Lakota family had picked me up from the airport late that afternoon. Because we were all in need of supplies, we stocked up in Rapid. It was very late by the time we got to Kyle, so I decided to spend the night at their place in the country rather than dropping them off and returning to Kyle in the early morning hours. About twenty-minutes into the rugged journey, we come across a vehicle--a very rare event on this road. The lights of the ancient car were flickering erratically and as we drew nearer, we could plainly see that the car was hopelessly stuck in thick mud. Steering my truck away from the bog, we pulled over. A young woman opened the door of the car and walked over to our window. Very drunk, she attempted to explain that they were in need of some help. Soon, another woman stepped out of the car, causing me to catch my breath. She was wearing two-inch shorts and a shirt that wouldn't properly fit a baby doll. Mud was caked on her legs and she struggled to even stand. She wobbled over to my truck, opened the door slid right in next to me as my Lakota brother had stepped out to examine the situation. J actually knew the young woman and introduced us. When J mentioned that I was teacher, the young woman turned her body away and said "Oh no! And you see me like this?" But what she didn't realize was that when I saw her, I simply saw pain and brokenness. And I remember wishing that my CMs could see the realities of alcohol in the world in wich I live.

So why don't I drink? Because though alcohol can be a source of great pleasure and enjoyment, in some cases it is abused. This abuse can tear apart countless lives and leave my babies to pick up the pieces.

B

P.S. After dropping J, the baby and myself off at the house, my Lakota brother returned to pull the car out of the ditch. However, he arrived to find all three of the people in the car passed out. After rousing them with much effort, they realized they had lost the keys. They all searched for hours, but to no avail. They ended up having to leave their car and be taken to a relatives house for the night. I saw them the next morning, still combing the area in search of the keys.

My William Wilberforces

There are few things that stir my spirit more than to hear the accounts of very normal people being used by God to do truly incredible things. Right now, I am nearly trembling and passion is running through my veins like fire. I want to seize the sword of Justice and shatter the chains of oppression. Ironically, what stirred by spirit was not an eloquent sermon, lengthy prayer or gorgeous sunset. Instead, it was the main menu of a DVD.

The film "Amazing Grace" is a truly remarkable story of a very real individual. William Wilberforce was an British politician who dedicated his life to ending the slave trade in England. Though weak in body, he poured out his life for the cause of ending slavery. Though often abused, rejected and discouraged, he persevered. As a result, the British slave trade was abolished, resulting in the business of trafficking in slaves to crumble worldwide (though we slavery does exist to this day in some forms).

As I sit here and listen over and over again to the chords of Amazing Grace, I am just in awe of the incredible individuals that have come before me and exist all around me. They are people who hold on to the heart of God, despite the trials of this life. It is to their example I look for encouragement and inspiration. I read about them in the pages of history and have been graciously surrounded by with these people.

People like my older sister who is a missionary in America--unpaid and often unacknowledged for her work as a sower, expect by the One whose opinion really matters.

People like my baby sister who went to India and loved those children with all her heart--even when she knew her heart would be ripped to shreds when she left.

People like Abby, Jess and Dan who are bright lights in darkness. They are willing to lay down their lives for the street children of Uganda in the hopes that the children there might one day rise out of the ashes.

People like Nicole who know how to speak Truth into my life and couldn't be superficial if she tried.

People like Rebekah who embody what it means to love, forgive and learn to heal.

People like the Gordons, Doneens, Sloderbachs and Gross' who are living proof that people can live for Christ in America, raising children who are socially aware of the suffering in and outside our nation's borders.

People like the Janis' who have very little but who have brought me more joy than I ever thought possible.

People like my parents who give when it hurts and love when it is not easy and forgive when it is undeserved.

People like my blog readers, many of whom I have never met but still send my children money and clothes and lift this broken vessel up in prayer.

And people like Jesus who are willing to give everything for the sake of Love.

You are all my William Wilberforces. Thank you so much for your witness, your life.

I've had a tough past few days. I've been discouraged and weary. Here are some thoughts that I had today that I passed on to my corps members:


My friends, it is so easy to get discouraged. There are times (like this weekend) where I feel like the burden we carry is far too heavy. You see, no one warned me that as I was learning about the injustice that exists in our country, I was unconsciously taking upon myself a load that I would carry with me the rest of my life. It is a burden that I can never ever shake, try as might. It is a burden that will at times make me uncomfortable, unavailable and unpopular. Why am I carrying this burden when so many others in our country live carefree and complacent lives? Where is my white-picket fence? Is this burden even worth it?

But then, I reflect upon the unspeakable value of this burden that I carry and I find strength returning during the midnight hour, for this burden that I carry is in reality, no burden at all. You see, upon my back I carry the Hope of my children. Unworthy and unqualified as I am, they need someone to carry their hopes and dreams, for their little shoulders can not bare the load alone on the difficult road they walk. So I will press on, for them. Always for them.

You are the change,

B

What A Girl Wants

Houston has been nothing like I expected. As you can see from my last post several weeks ago, I was quite depressed and passionately hating my job when I first arrived. Thanks to the incredible grace of my Father, I have now fallen quite in love with what I do and the people I interact with on a daily basis.

I could write so much about my amazing school team or the 68 corps members who are learning to be teachers. But tonight, I want to get a little more personal and share some matters of the heart.

In just 30 minutes, I will be going on my first solo outing with a guy. We are going to dinner and then a play afterward. How we got to this point is a long, rather amusing story. But what I focus on is not our journey together, my journey with my Maker.

Just yesterday, I was in tears at the thought of meeting this guy for the first time, or any guy for that matter. Hurts from my past have simply bound me up in fear and made terror of rejection something that nearly disables me. But today, things are different. I have spoken with my closest friends and they have spoken truth into my life. They have reminded me who I am in Christ. They have assured me that I am neither repulsive nor unlovable. I am worthy of love both from God and from a good man. Whether this man is that man remains to be seen and frankly I am not concerned about that. Tonight, all I care about is learning to love God more and learning to love myself. Hopefully along the way I can encourage my brother in Christ as well.

Say a prayer for me,

B