Fed, White and Blue: Are We Claiming Independence from Health?

I arrived at my parents' Palm Springs home to find some of the edibles we'll be bringing to a neighbor's barbecue on Saturday: two large cans of baked beans--one of which could double as a weapon or barbell weight--two tubs of potato salad, and some ribs.

While this may be usual barbecue fare, I don't know why Americans have become so accustomed to it that the presence of something natural, like fruits or vegetables, is foreign. And when it comes to holidays like July 4th, I understand we are celebrating freedom, but I'd also like the freedom to not have a coronary or have to work out for a week just to undo the garbage I've ingested from one meal.

Sure, I splurge. I actually plan on making the pictured American flag cake, which has sugar and fat. But is it un-American to also have some healthy options? I suggested making a salad to my dad and he said, "I don't know how healthy these people are." God forbid we remove the pitchfork of fat and chemicals from our mouths for one second to eat something that's delicious and nutritious. The two can co-exist, you know, contrary to whatever recipes for edible suicide Paula Deen is currently promoting. Dessert is usually considered to be what people splurge on, but most of the main dishes and snacks I'll encounter at this barbecue will have the calories, fat and/or sugar of a Boston Cream Pie. So it will be like a pie-eating contest. But no one really wins.

First of all, I don't understand potato salad or its sibling, pasta salad. I've never understood it. When a dish's main ingredient is mayonnaise, second only to the potatoes or pasta, it does not deserve to be called a salad. Only Americans could create a dish primarily of carbs and fat--something so opposite of what a traditional salad is--and then label it a salad. This isn't fine or unique cuisine from a high-end or authentic hole-in-the-wall restaurant, so ingesting hundreds of calories from a small serving of potatoes with mayonaisse is hardly worth it to me. I'm claiming independence from this faux "salad", thank you very much.

Baked beans seem harmless enough. They're high in protein and low in fat. Eureka! But not so fast. We Americans can't eat baked beans unless we add bacon and brown sugar. Mmmm. It's almost like a dessert, considering the 12 grams of sugar in half a cup. And who eats a half cup of anything? That serving size on ice cream is always comical to me, hence why I don't buy ice cream. I couldn't eat just half a cup.

I don't know the nutrition facts on ribs and I probably don't want to know. If I'm going to splurge on anything though, I'd rather indulge in a couple ribs than Potatoes a la Mayonnaise. If my good friend Chicken shows up to this barbecue, I'll probably be hanging with him most of the time. We've always had a healthy relationship.

Livin' on a Prayer

This entry is quite different from the previous one that addressed a Bravo reality show and Paris Hilton, but what can I say? I'm a multi-faceted person and there are times when I feel like addressing different parts of my life. This one begged to be addressed.

My women's small group at church is going through a booklet "Lessons on Assurance", which started with us being able to be assured of our salvation and this week it was the assurance of answered prayer. Each week is accompanied by a verse that we are supposed to memorize. We don't get an 'F' in Christianity if we don't memorize it, but scripture memorization is often a way for us to store up truth so we can live it and remember that truth particularly during times of struggle.

The verse is John 16:24 and reads, "Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete." (NIV)

I've been a Christian since I was young and have always believed in the power of prayer. But it did not strike me that God was really trying to speak to me about it this week until I went to a home prayer meeting on Tuesday. A friend is leaving today for Tanzania, where he will help lead a small team of students from the Pasadena high school where he teaches and they will partner with an organization there to help bring resources and growth to the community. We gathered to pray specifically for him, though we were also open to praying for others if we felt lead.

As musical worship began and we sang together--some eyes open, others closed--I tried to shut out the world. I sang. We all sang. We actually all sounded and harmonized pretty well considering it was a random gathering of people for prayer, not a choir rehearsal.

When we began praying for our friend James, everyone had a different perspective or vision to bring. It was refreshing and amazing. Some prayed for safety, others prayed for change in Tanzania, some prayed that James would not feel he had to be strong for the whole team. As my friend, Joy, who sat next to me, quietly prayed in tongues and later shared a vision she had and other visions came, while sounds of "M-hm" and "Yes" confirmed the prayers we heard, it made me realize that it had been a while since I'd been in such an open, liberating prayer environment. Now for anyone reading this and thinking, "Praying in tongues and visions?" I can only say that Christians, like members of other faiths or even artists, express themselves differently and I see nothing wrong with it, but some feel uncomfortable around it and that is also understandable if they've had a different upbringing. But that's a whole other issue and not what I intend to address.

What I was most overcome by was just the feeling of love. The love that we all had for James because we all love God so much and received God's love. The confidence people had while they spoke that God would do amazing things in Tanzania, through James, his team and others. That expectations would be far exceeded and he would come back changed.

The combination of all of us submitting to God, hearing from God, pouring out our thoughts, visions and love reminded me somewhat of my time in Youth With a Mission, a Christian missions organization I spent 7 months with 6 years ago. I talked about this with a current YWAMer who helped lead worship at the Tuesday prayer meeting. In YWAM it was normal for people to cry, speak in tongues, lay on the floor or do whatever else they were lead to during prayer or musical worship. I may have become used to it over those months and immune or possibly overloaded by it from years at a Christian university where I had mandatory chapel three times a week, but this was a refreshing call back. It was by choice and it was with people I usually know in the context of social events but I was so blessed to know them in this setting. Their unique hearts, gifts and words played an irreplaceable role and reminded me how deliberate God is about crafting us. We are all so delightfully different. I may sound like a cheesy Hallmark card, but Tuesday's encounter moved me to genuinely feel this way.

For the first time in a while I felt I could say almost anything, put my hand in the air, cry, and no one would judge me. I don't normally feel judged when I pray in church, but I may get distracted and don't feel like letting completely loose in a large room full of people, some of whom I know, some of whom are strangers. The Tuesday prayer night was a safe place. A safe place for my heart, my words, my actions, etc. I worry sometimes that if I hold my hand up as I pray or say certain things that people may feel I am trying to look holy but I just let that thought go every time it came up. I ultimately know my heart and motivations, and even more so does God. As more people prayed and I felt how connected we were to God, individually and as a group, my eyes began to well up with tears. God's presence was overwhelming.

Someone read Isaiah 61:1:, "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives and freedom to prisoners." I felt how true that was, not only for James as he goes abroad, but because of how broken and afflicted I was and am. God came for all of me, all of my broken pieces, so we can acknowledge them together, not so I can try on my own to quickly make a "complete" puzzle of what I think He and the world want to see.

Then someone else felt a word from God for someone in the room. She sensed God wanting to let someone know that He truly loves them. This is something I have struggled with for a while, though I've made considerable progress in it, so I thought maybe the word was for someone else. But I really asked myself if I have felt totally loved by God lately, completely sure that He loved and accepted me no matter what. I hesitated to answer an assured "Yes". That's when more tears came. Whether or not I was willing to address any feelings of doubt didn't matter at that moment, because God had used someone else to tell me.

When I really stop and remove the "Jesus loves me, this I know" record that has become rote after spinning in my head for years, contemplating that someone--let alone the Creator of the universe--loves me UNCONDITIONALLY is still something that astounds me. In fact, I don't think most Christians are astounded enough by this. Hearing for years in church, Sunday school, college and whatever other Christian environments I was in that "Jesus loves me" has become engrained in my mind, but not nearly as much in my heart. And how can it so easily be engrained there? There is nothing to model or relate God's love to. We call him "Heavenly Father" and attribute fatherly characteristics to Him, but our own fathers, whether we considered them good or not, fall short. All humans fall short, as they naturally will. No one loves us like God does so when I hear "unconditional", my mind may know what that means, but my heart still tries to catch up sometimes.

And knowing me so well, God showed me He loved me in a tailor-made way. First, He whispered to me through my women's group studying prayer and the verse about being assured that my prayers are answered--even if it's not the answer I'm looking for. Then, in the midst of a prayer meeting for someone else, I felt God's presence, love and power so strongly that it confirmed the verse I was learning this week. But to make sure I was truly listening and understood, God raised his whisper to a joyous shout when He spoke through someone else to tell me how much He loves me. It was not something in my head I could possibly dismiss. It was real. This does not mean I will not experience pain, doubt and struggle. I have experienced all these things in my Christian walk. But God knew I needed this now and since I was willing to listen, I can add this to my mental repertoire of times when I have unmistakably felt His hand.

This week was not just learning about God answering prayers but also about how He hears us. He hears me. And because he hears me and answers prayers when I ask in the authority of His name, that shows His amazing love. I have prayed in the past and recently to know and accept that God truly loves me. He has answered that prayer in various ways but was especially true to His word and undeniably answered me this week. I experienced the second half of John 16:24: "Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete." Thank you, God, that I was able to receive you and thank you that you will ALWAYS be there to joyously complete me.

Ms. Media

As someone who adores writing and pop culture, I figured I'd start blogging more about media, since it's a big part of my life. While my pop culture knowledge sometimes makes me feel like I have no profession other than that of couch potato--unfortunately a pro bono gig for now--there are sites and blogs completely dedicated to commenting on media in a snarky way and if I could actually make money off my random knowledge and commentary someday, I'd be quite the happy camper. Should VH1 ever bring back "The World Series of Pop Culture" I'll be on that thing like "The Real Housewives of Orange County" on a needle full of Botox. Since sarcasm is one of my love languages, it has always come very naturally to me to humorously critique television, film, music, etc. and I figure I might as well hone my writing skills while expressing myself. I like writing about various topics and will not pretend that consuming certain media will drastically change your life, but it often brings a needed escape and can lead to awareness of other people and issues you may have never heard of otherwise.

I don't claim to be an expert in anything, though I particularly adore Bravo shows. My dream entourage would include fashion guru Tim Gunn, "Top Chef"'s Tom Colicchio, OCD house flipper Jeff Lewis, D-List comedienne Kathy Griffin, "Workout" guru Jackie Warner and some of the "real" housewives of New York City for good measure--Bethenny and Jill are my favorites.

Today I'll be addressing "Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List". I've watched this show for a while now, and even though it's in its fourth season and Kathy has won two Emmys for the show, possibly moving her up to C+ status, it is still entertaining to watch. Even more un-D-list though, is the fact that she has A-list celebrities in each episode this season, as opposed to her being the featured guest at some truly D-list event like a chili cook-off. But I'm sure those Bravo honchos want to make things more interesting and while Kathy can't really be too embarrassed by the scenarios she's put in this season, she is still ready with her sarcastic, sometimes-too-crude wit.

Episode 1 included Kathy getting a cameo role as a hooker in a Bette Midler show and then eating dinner with Bette at her posh Vegas penthouse and venturing around Vegas, touring the huge, self-indulgent Bette Midler store and even going to a hot dog stand with the Divine Miss M. In episode 2, Kathy cooked with Paula Deen and miraculously managed to survive without being deep fried or having a coronary. This week, she hung out with Paris Hilton, who I'd think would draw the line somewhere with her media exposure, but I suppose that's giving her way too much credit.

These celebrity playdates do not confirm Kathy's D-List status, so much as make me question the letter status of the celebrities hanging out with her. Surely, Paris Hilton has millions of people or dollars she could be spending her time with, especially one of her faux "BFFs" from another VH1 show that will milk four seasons out of a shallow relationship-making celebrity we don't care about. And considering that Paris has been one of the many targets in Kathy's stand-up, she is quite a good sport to spend so much time with the bold red head.

But before the trip to Paris can commence, Kathy begins her foray into attracting a younger audience by getting a facebook, which she puts her 80+ year old mother in charge of maintaining. Surprisingly, the boxed wine-drinking senior actually knows what e-mail is, but starts using the term "spacebook" halfway through the episode. Kathy, of course, has to jokingly fire her mother after the facebook page is not properly kept up. At one point while galavanting LA streets with Paris, Kathy checks her fb status to see that her mother has written, "Two Buck Chuck is on sale at Trader Joe's" and Kathy is comically mortified by Paris's disapproval of the uncool status. The status suits Kathy's mother perfectly though and is quite hilarious considering Two Buck Chuck is so cheap to begin with, but Kathy's mother is known for her frugality as much as her boxed wine consumption.

The Paris adventure begins--how else?-- shopping, which is apparently Paris's fitness regimen. After dropping $12,000 at Kitson--Kathy drops $14,000 just to outdo Paris and then returns the clothes later that day--Paris exclaims how exhausting shopping is. "People always ask me if I work out and I say, 'No, I shop. It burns more calories than working out'." Wow. So not only does the blonde giraffe not work out to keep her statuesque physique, but she has so much money to shop that the activity doubles as a workout. God Bless America?

Speaking of good physiques, when Kathy and Paris hit up a pool scattered with cabanas and pretty people, Kathy dons a two piece and looks fabulous doing so. No cellulite or bulges are anywhere to be seen. Maybe she's training with Jackie Warner of "Workout" because her 48-year-old abs are enviable at any age.

A Bravo cameo does make it into the show in the form of NYC housewife Jill Zarin, who shmoozes with Paris in Kitson and steals some of Kathy's BFF time. Jill is looking better too, by the way. This past season she looked thinner and much more in shape and she's seemingly had amazing, natural-looking work done on her face because she looks at least five years younger. Whatever she's doing is the way to go, unlike the OC Housewives, whose work is as subtle as Kathy trying to get publicity.

After a brief, random poolside phone call with Snoop Dogg, who calls Paris "Sweet Pea", Kathy and Paris change back into their flashy Young Hollywood threads and part ways; Paris, surrounded by a sea of photographers, and Kathy jokingly fighting off the one photographer who is shooting her. Either he's a big Kathy fan, or he lives under a rock and isn't aware that paparazzi get their money from the Bank of Paris Hilton, one of the few financial institutions still standing in this economy.