Rumble, Rumble, Rumble.

When I was at the church school, our teacher, Roger Mann, would play these funny 'history' audio tapes while we worked on homework or had free time. In one of them, I remember two guys on a boat having a conversation, and one said, "I'm hearing rumblings of mutiny from the crew'. Then, in the background, you'd hear in low voices, several men muttering, "Rumble, rumble, rumble. Mutiny, mutiny, mutiny." I have no idea what these tapes were called, or why I found them so hilarious that I still remember them from middle school, but when it popped into my head tonight I posted it on my old teacher's Facebook page because I know he'll get a kick out of it when he reads it.

I say all that to say this: in the midst of my soul, I'm hearing rumblings of mutiny.

All our lives, we're programmed to be selfish. To want what we want, when we want it. It's almost as if we have a constant necessity to be right, to be the smartest, the prettiest, the best. Society has raised us. Our parents might have given it their best effort, but we're molded by all of our surroundings. Television and magazines tell us that women have to be curvy in just the right places, ooze sexuality, and be controlling and manipulative so that they can always get what they want, which is very obviously chocolate, lattes, and happy-fun-girls'-nights according to the same television and magazines. We have to smell right, smile right, wear the right makeup, use the right fourteen step facial cleanser, and be exactly a size 2 or starve ourselves until we are. We have to be smart enough to get into college and get a good job, but not let on that we are smart or have a good job because then men won't be interested. All of this is programming us to be selfish. Sounds incongruous, doesn't it? How about I make my point now? Get to it, woman!

It's selfish because none of this matters. We're trained to do all of this so other people will like us. Specifically, so men will like us. But the problem with that is, they aren't liking us. They're liking the facade of what we think we have to be like so they will like us! And what's happening in the process? How are we changing the world? How are we helping others around us? How are we shaping our children? How are we feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, making things right in our community? How are we serving God? How are we exploring the world? How are we having any effect on anything around us?

We're not. We're simply too self-involved to bother with all of that.

There are rumblings of mutiny in my spirit. This can't be right. Where is the justice? What is the point? Where is the impact?

In my search for peace, I'm only getting more stirred up. There are rumblings of mutiny in my heart, I tell you! In my bones! I want to do more, help more, heal more, pray more, forgive more, love more.

I find that I don't just want to be.

I want to be MORE.

Rumble, rumble, rumble. Mutiny, mutiny, mutiny.

*deep breath*

There, I got all that out for now, and maybe I can sleep tonight.

This evening, I took my mother out to dinner at the Emporium restaurant in South Bend for her birthday and then we went to a seminar at the South Bend Clinic together, and for dessert at the South Bend Chocolate Factory. (It was a SouthBendaPalooza!) It was a wonderful time. I always enjoy being with her no matter what we're doing.

I'm missing Charlene a lot. I sent her another package yesterday. If anyone wants to send a package or letter or card to help cheer a soldier, even if you don't know her, just let me know and I'll give you her address. She'd be so pleased. Mail is so important to them while they're away.

Tomorrow I open the coffee shop, then I have to grocery shop after work (whee). I'll probably help Steve, too, since he has to close... or maybe I'll just grocery shop on Saturday and take Aria with me to help. That sounds like a better plan. Now I'm at the point where I'm just thinking out loud, so I'm probably boring you. I apologize profusely, and I'm shutting this bad boy down and going to sleep.

Stephanie Jean