Bob.

I've noticed a pattern. Not in anyone in particular, but in all of us as Christians. 

We like to copy each other.

A lot of us believe in Creationism, but it's still a big game of monkey see, monkey do. (Ok, sorry, I had to throw that one in there... ;) 

This topic has been on my mind for a long time, and I think that God has finally given me the words to talk about it. 

It goes like this. 

You get a person who has a great relationship with God, and it shows in everything they do. They have a sweet personality, they dress a certain way, they get along well with everybody.

People see this person (let's call him Bob), and go, "Wow... Bob is such an amazing Christian. I want to be like that." 

But how do they do it? When they say "I want to be like that," do they mean they want to be an amazing Christian, or that they want to be like Bob? All too many times, we get confused by that. Then this happens. 

Ew. Not literally. But basically what I mean, is that we become carbon copies of Bob. We talk like him, act like him, dress like him. We try to convince everyone else that we're like Bob, because he's such an amazing person. Then, soon enough, someone is going to come around seeing how Bob is and how we are, and want to be just like that too. 

After a while, Bob's the word. The unspoken rule. The standard. Bobs are cropping up in each pew and corridor. And what's the problem with this? 

Bob picks his nose when no one's watching. 

He swears when he stubs his toe. 

Sometimes, he takes a banana chip from the bulk food bin at Winco. 

In other words, he's human. 

But because we perceive him to be almost more than human, we not only try to become Bob, but we try to become SUPERBOB. 

The Bob without faults. 

The Bob without struggles, doubts or drama of any kind. 

The Bob who isn't real. 

We then create this perfect standard of what we're all supposed to be like and how we're all supposed to dress, act and essentially become... and it's not realistic. We only make it look realistic, because faults and troubles don't just melt away once you become Superbob, you just keep them secrets because everyone else is doing soooo much better than you are. 

It's funny, because we think that if we copy the best Christian we could find, we'd be doing what God wants us to. But does God want us to be someone else? 

1 Corinthians 12:27: "Now you are the body of Christ, and members individually." Paul goes on to talk about how everyone is given different gifts. We all have different talents, personalities, senses of humor, likes and dislikes. He didn't create us to have the same style and personality. He wants us to trust that He'll help sanctify us to become better versions of ourselves, not someone else. 

And after Paul talks about all the different gifts, he says, "...And yet I show you a more excellent way," and it leads into the next chapter. 

That chapter is 1 Corinthians 13, also known as the "love" chapter. 

If there is anything we're supposed to do the same, it's to be loving towards each other. Even when people wear shoes that don't match or scratch their armpits in public. Even if they think that pirates are cooler than ninjas or are constantly saying words like "Epic" or "Legit" as adjectives in casual conversation.

So you can say that Superbob is dead, but Jesus is very much alive. 

We'll never be able to function if we all pretend like we're perfect, but we don't have to. 

We're real people. And it's pretty awesome. 

Memory Monday: Orange Julius

I'd like to think that everyone's life is an adventure.
That, no matter what someone's lot in life is, there's a sort of adventure even if you never leave the country or go bungee jumping.

So far, my life has been that kind of adventure. Muted, somewhat subdued, yet wonderful. : )
Although, there was one point where it could've fallen into a sort of brash, fast-paced sort of endeavor.  One that could've taken me in a completely different direction.

Friends, I'd like to tell you about the time I was almost famous.

When I was about 5 or 6 years old, there was a shopping center that we used to go to all the time by our house. It surpassed all ordinary shopping centers because it had this little ride in the middle, a pet store, a fountain, a Learning Ladder (one of the coolest stores on earth when I was a kid), and an Orange Julius. Let me take the time to fill you in on each one of these places so you get the full effect of its splendor on my young person.

The ride was this little carousel thingie, but with cars. Different themed cars that had stuffed animals in the passenger seats, and in the center of this procession was a giant Icee. This ride was almost more of a dream than a reality. A mirage. An entity. In other words, I was rarely allowed on it. I recall once, just... once.

The pet store was another favorite because seriously come on who doesn't like fluffy bunnies and puppies and hamsters and things???

I vividly remember the fountain. There was a short flight of stairs, and the fountain flowed from the upstairs to the downstairs, like a tiny waterfall. My mom would give us coins to make wishes on. I'd make hopeful wishes that probably never came true (If they did, there's a chance I'd be a mermaid right now...)

The Learning Ladder was more of a mom store. Really, it was the dream of homeschooling moms everywhere, because it had all sorts of books and learning tools and whatnot. But it was colorful, and had a Thomas the Tank Engine train table. Therefore it was objectively amazing.

Then there was the Orange Julius.

Oh, melodic name that sings of joy in liquid form!

At that time, the Orange Julius, to me, was like gold made from the most radiant sunlight, harvested from the purest mountain by the good Lord's most trustworthy cherubs. In order to convert it to liquid, it was not blended, no; but instead, it was melted by the sweet voices of the angels as every harmonious chord that left their flawless throats broke it down, so to speak, into its purest of forms: The Orange Julius. Sweet nectar from on high.

The Orange Julius was the highlight of the shopping center. I was drawn to those things like a newly-hatched sea turtle is drawn to the ocean that carries it home.

Anyway, on one particular trip to said shopping center, Karissa, Kyla and I were promised Orange Juli (that's the plural term, right?) I don't really remember the details of that trip, I just remember being drug around for a painfully long time. That Julius was what kept up my 5 year old morale. It was the orange light at the end of a dreary tunnel.

My mom's errands were coming to an end, when we ran into this professional-looking lady who looked at the three of us kids and exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! Your kids are adorable!" She then proceeded to give my mom her card, tell her she was a modeling agent, and she'd love to take pictures of us if we had the time. She gave all the details, which I don't remember. I do remember that we were to go to a certain location for the photo shoot, that happened to be that very day. I immediately imagined myself walking down a runway.

When the lady said goodbye, my mom turned to us. "Ok guys," she said, "We can go to this thing if you want to. What do you want to do?"
Karissa and I passionately exclaimed that we wanted to go. But then she said... "The only thing is, if we go, we won't have time to go to Orange Julius."

My naive mind, not being able to foresee that this wouldn't be the only opportunity to have an Orange Julius in the future, saw it as a tragic dilemma. I pondered for a second, then, in a moment that changed the course of history, I made my decision.

"Let's go to Orange Julius."

The fates were sealed in those five words. Karissa, following my example, agreed by default.
My chances of being discovered as a young model were vanquished.
The desire for fame was squelched by the desire for gold.
Some might think my mom was to blame for putting such a weighty decision into my young, albeit spidery hands. To that I say nay. She was only putting our desires first and preventing herself from being one of these moms.

And for that, I am thankful. (Very, very thankful).

And who knows? Child stars rarely have a wholesome end. My fifteen minutes of fame on a Carter's Kids catalog could've led me down a drunken road of depravity.
One second an Orange Julius, the next, CRACK COCAINE.
Vodka in my sippy cup.
Sneaking a pack of cigarettes between potty breaks.
The paparazzi catching me in nightclubs past my bedtime.
The police raiding my Barbie Dream House.

I look at what could've been, and I have no regrets.
Although, it is a shame that I might be depriving the world of this.

Oh. And I tried an Orange Julius when I went to the mall last year. It was the first time in about eleven years.
I didn't like it. :P

Guys! I'm cool now!

I'm half ginger by nature.

When my dad was younger, he had bright red hair. But, as we know, red hair is a recessive gene, and my mom has dark brown hair.

I've always wanted red hair. It's so pretty... and it looks like it's on fire when the sun hits it.

So last spring I said "What the heck!" and died it red.

It was a lot of fun for a while, and I really liked the way it looked.
But then it started growing out.

When the roots got really bad that summer, I decided that I've had my fun, and it was time to turn it back to my original hair color. I went to dye it back, but then it turned into this weird, orangey-blondish-brownish color. Like... I don't think this color was even invented until that very moment.

Exhibit A: Last summer. 

To my dismay it was not my original hair color. It also looked terrible because the dye was really damaging it. So... I had three options.

1. Go bald trying to dye my hair back to my original color
2. Shave it all off and start over
3. Let it grow out and have the worst hair year of your life

Since the third option was the only one that left the hair on my head, I chose that one. 

With every month my roots push away the remainder of the odd color I unknowingly cursed myself with. 

I'm half ginger. Like actually... half. Ginger. 

But it's ok, guys. Because I'm cool. 

Behold. 

It's called ombre. 

It's totally in. 

And it's totally what I was going for.

Don't feel bad that I'm eons ahead of you simpletons. If you try to catch up you might be as chic as me someday. ;)

Memory Monday: Pocket Pack

I will now bring up a very painful childhood memory.

This memory still leaves me in a state of terror and slight embarrassment, yet I'm finding it in me to get the word out. People need to know about this for their own safety.

This is the day I learned that external pockets are dangerous.

When I was about seven, I used to have this awesome outfit with Keroppi (the Hello Kitty frog) on it.

I don't have a picture... but the pants were mint green and had this cute litte pocket on the outside with Keroppi's face on it. It's sort of hard to describe... but it was a pocket that tied to the outside of the pants. Kind of like a fanny pack/pocket hybrid. It was a fanny pocket. No... a pocket pack. I like that better, we'll call it that.

Little did I know that that pocket pack would cause me to be brutally attacked later that day.

It started out as a bright, happy summer's day. I went to a friend's birthday party, made some place mats, jumped on a trampoline, then went back to my grandparents' house. Things were looking up until I went to play in the back yard.

At that epoch my grandparents had just adopted a giant golden retriever named Russel. Russel was a really sweet dog that was good with kids... but even though he was huge, he was still in his "playful puppy" phase. And that day, something happened. I blame the pocket pack.

Russel to that pocket pack was like a bull to a red cape. Some sort of barbaric force was unleashed within him and his rabid fangs clamped on to my pocket pack. He started tugging me around the yard with an unyielding resolve.

Of course, I went with the most sensible solution.
I screamed my freaking head off.

Seriously, it sounded like I was being murdered. And maybe I was. I didn't know why else he'd be pulling me towards the back of the shed.

My desperate cries for help did no good. I was frantically searching for an idea, when I remembered something important: pants are removable.

Without giving it a second thought, I removed the beloved trousers I was ensnared in, and made a run for my freedom.

When I got to the door, pantsless and sobbing pathetically, my mom and grandma were standing right there. Where were they?! Why didn't they do something?! I remember feeling a little indignant at first, but I was just glad that I escaped with my life.

So beloved blog readers, I urge you: NEVER. Wear. Pocket. Packs. Or fanny packs, for that matter. It's not worth your pride.

This has been a message from the founder of C.A.P.P. (Civilians Against Pocket Packs.)

Adventures In Job Hunting

The job search continues.

I'm tired. I'm worn out. I'm seconds from losing it.

I signed up on this website called "Snagajob.com" a couple weeks ago. They had a whole bunch of ads from legit businesses, so I had no problem thinking it was safe. But this week I had a phone conversation that sounded like this:

*Really heavy, obviously fake Chinese accent* "Herrow... you appry for job?"
"Um... yeah... Who's this?"
"You appry for job at Dairy Queen?"
"Yes, yes I did."
"You want to set up interview?"
"Ok... what day?"
"Satahday?"
"What time...?"
"2:00."
"Ok... are we just meeting at Dairy Queen, then?"
"Yes."
"Ok, thank you very much..."

When I hung up the phone, I was very confused, but had this growing sense of accomplishment. I actually have a job interview. Or do I...?

The call was sort of sketchy, and I got sort of a weird vibe from it. We missed a call from him earlier in the day, and called the number back to see who it was. When he first answered, his voice was kind of raspy and he didn't have an accent. Then, thinking they called the wrong number, we apologized and hung up.

Then he called back with a Chinese accent and set up an interview with me. O_o

He sounded really unprofessional, and at first didn't even sound like he knew why he was calling me.

After thinking it over a while and making a couple attempts to talk to the Dairy Queen manager to see if it was the same guy, I gave up and cancelled my "interview" (if that's really what it was...)

But tonight I got this message from Dairy Queen.

"Dear Kaylee Beutler,

We've completed reviewing the application you recently submitted to work at DQ - Hillsboro Dairy Queen.
Unfortunately, at this time our hiring managers have determined that the position you've applied for is not the best match for your skills and experience. We encourage you to explore our other open positions and wish you the best of luck in your job search." 

Um... what??? 

I have several thoughts about this email, but two of the most predominant thoughts are like this:

Oh my gosh I'm not even good enough to work at a fast food restaurant now??? How the heck to they ever expect me to get a freaking job??? Apparently you need experience to flip burgers and make ice cream cones now. 

And they've just completed reviewing my application? Didn't they set up an interview? I don't think that was them... but who is it if they knew who I was and where I was applying? Is there some psycho out there who knows all my info now? O_o 

So I'm currently jobless with no hope of finding anyone who would trust me enough to pull a soft serve lever, and on top of that have some sort of creepy pseudo-Chinese man stalking me. 

So that's been my week. 

How's everyone else's week been?

Bikini Barista

I've been looking for a job for a long time.

I've sent out several applications within a thirty minute radius of my house, and I still haven't found anything.

But even though my desperation is hinging on sending out applications to fast food restaurants (One of my last resorts), there really isn't any level of desperation that would force me to become a bikini barista.

Yes, that is a real job.

They're opening up a coffee shop about thirty minutes from my house whose gimmick is to have all their workers wear bikinis. Which I find weird, because normally the people who frequent coffee shops aren't really the type to care whether they're being served by half-naked women. It sounds more like a bar gimmick to me. :P

Putting aside everything that I said in the modesty post for a second, there are several other reasons I wouldn't want to work at said establishment.

1. Bare skin and hot beverages DO NOT mix!
2. If I put my hands on my hips I sort of have the physique of a wire hanger.
3. That HAS to be a health code violation.
4. Think of the drafts!
5. Any wardrobe malfunction to be had would be multiplied by 1 zillion.

However, I couldn't just not reply to the ad. It was just too... weird. So I could've either ranted about how disgusting and perverted their coffee shop was and just how do you expect your employees to be respected and think of the children who could walk by your store and get a glance at what kind of shady operation you're running and rant rant rant rant...

Or I could have fun with it a little.

Maybe I've been reading too many email pranks. But something in me snapped and I just had to mess with them. (Wow, Kaylee... anonymously sending a fake email in which hardly any human contact is made. You so crazy).

Anyway... this is what I sent.

"Hello! I saw your ad on craigslist, and I have to say that this job is exactly what I'm looking for! I have 3 years of barista experience and 4 years of exotic dancing experience (both of them got me through college... I'm an aspiring model). 

I've attached my latest bikini shot. Hopefully it's not too naughty. ;) " 

I attached this picture.

We'll see if they write back. 

The One About Modesty...

 

Now wait a second.

Before I go on with this one, I want to make you sure of something.

Every Christian girl has gone through the "modesty" talk at one point in her life. I don't want to bring about any sort of PTSD flashbacks of various awkward summer camp/youth group "Girl Talks." (You know this has happened to you at least once!)

This is a different talk on modesty. It's not going to be about what I think is or isn't modest, or how I think you should or shouldn't dress. It's quite the contrary.

This is actually me ranting a little bit. 

And by ranting, I'm not by any means saying that modesty is "bad" or "wrong." Modesty is biblical, and to say that it isn't would be a lie. God wants us to dress modestly. But what does that mean? 

To a lot of people, modesty has a "what not to wear" list. Some people go harder on this list than others, and sometimes, when someone strays from the "list," they're approached for being immodest.

I don't like the list. 

I mean, obviously there are just some things you shouldn't wear. Like this.

Work it.

But there are a lot of variables that we don't really take into account, and these are the things I want to talk about. 

Culture

I really think that modesty is relevant to culture. To dress appropriately in Brazil might not be the same as it would be in Pakistan. It's totally normal to see a woman's midriff in India, but there are other standards of dressing there that we wouldn't even consider. Does that mean they're wrong and we're right?

Each culture has different aspects of the opposite sex that they find sensual. For some cultures it's legs, for others it's the midriff, etc. So we see people in those cultures covering up differently. It's when you wear something that draws attention to what's sensual in that culture that you start getting stares.

Time Period
Somewhat related to culture, modesty is also in a lot of ways relevant to time period. A culture's ideas of what's physically attractive changes over time. It was at one point scandalous to show your ears! Obviously most people can look at ears now without a second thought. At another point it was ok to wear a low-cut dress, but it was incredibly inappropriate to show your ankles. Style and fashion fluctuate so much over time, that it would be impossible to keep a single standard of how to dress.

Body Type

This one is huge, and I think it's one that isn't considered at all through the "list" mentality. We aren't all given the same body type, so we can't exactly dress it the same way. Tank tops can show too much skin on one girl and be totally fine for another. The same shorts could look too short on one girl and the right length on another. And that leads me to yet another thing that annoys me: The "fingertip test." 

If you've never had to do the fingertip test, it goes like this: If you naturally let your hands fall at your sides, wherever your fingertips are, that's where the hem of your shorts should be. That's all fine and good... but for me, my arms are like this.

And my fingers are like this.

So you can imagine my frustration.

Activities

There are a lot of sports or activities that call for uniforms or articles of clothing we wouldn't typically wear all the time. You wouldn't wear a leotard to church. You wouldn't wear a swimsuit to the store. But does that make those things immodest?
My opinion is no.
There are certain sports and activities that require the uniforms they have, not to be "flashy" or "sexy," but for practicality's sake (unless you're the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders...)

Then there are swimsuits.
This one is a delicate topic, and it hits a nerve in every Christian in one way or another. I honestly still don't know exactly where I stand. There are some Christians who can, with a clear conscience, wear bikinis. I'm not personally one of those people (but I'm definitely not condemning anyone who does!)
There are obviously tons of swimsuits that are designed to show off our "assets" in the most provocative ways possible, but not all of them are built like that. My general opinion is this: Swimming at all is risky in terms of modesty, because water likes to cling to fabric. And pull things down... or off...
This renders it impossible to be as modest as you typically are, no matter what. It's not everyone's attitude to wear swimsuits that expose things they don't usually expose-- sometimes it just happens! So my "rule" would be to wear something practical while covering up the obvious, stay away from anything that can be easily undone (or seriously double-knot that sucker), and go swimming. The good news is that one pieces are making a comeback! There are actually a lot of really cute "retro" swimsuits that are coming out that are really cute and cover stuff up.

Attitude

This one is being neglected by a lot of Christian circles too, and I think it's really important to note.

I could wear a turtleneck, a headdress, a jumper and a Snuggie and still be immodest. How?
Modesty doesn't only lie in how you dress, but your attitude.
If you're acting in a way that distracts you or others, whether by bragging or flirting, you're being immodest.

If we have the right attitude, we don't want to be a distraction to guys. Sometimes girls go a little overboard in constantly worrying about being a "stumbling block" to boys. Even though it's a good thing to be conscious of our "menfolk" (lol), it's impossible to please everyone. If we got every guy's opinion of what they found distracting or immodest and dressed ourselves with that list in mind, we would be walking around like this.

And I don't think that's very practical... :P

And men (if there are any men brave enough to make it this far), we aren't responsible for your thought lives. We should definitely do what we can to not be a distraction to you, but ultimately it isn't on us, just like it isn't on you if we have struggles with our thoughts. We all have the power to think about anything we want, but that doesn't mean we should. ;P

Sometimes, in the same way that girls use the way they dress to attract attention from the opposite sex, they can also use the way they dress to gain acceptance in whatever social circle they're in. Even Christian ones. Some girls could be following "the list" to perfection because they believe that those rules are right. Other girls might just be following them to fit in with the girls who go by the list, but wind up dressing just to please other people. Either way, God doesn't want us to constantly worry and obsess about how we look on any level. He doesn't want us to constantly worry or obsess about anything, really.

He wants us to lean on Him.

Which is why it's important not to try to please other people with how we dress. This is where we go wrong with modesty.
I remember one of the teachers at Summit Ministries saying, "Purity isn't a line, it's a direction."
If purity was a line, we'd just try to get as close as we could to it without stepping over it. If it's a direction, we look to God for guidance on how we dress and behave. This is how we need to approach this. We need more God and less us... in every sense of the phrase. ;)

So that's my opinion on modesty. Maybe I've opened a can of worms... but I honestly hope that I didn't step on anyone's toes!

What are your thoughts?