I Almost Missed It Too

No doubt about it!  God is good--
good to good people, good to the good-hearted.
But I nearly missed it,
missed seeing his goodnesss.
I was looking the other way,
looking up to the people
At the top,
envying the wicked who have it made,
Who have nothing to worry about,
not a care in the whole wide world.

Psalm 73:1-5, The Message


What a reminder, early this morning, as I sat on the too-small front porch of a house I want to sell as I looked out at two vans that just aren't quite as cool as the Land Rovers I see every day and listened to my too-close neighbors begin their days while their dogs bark incessantly.

Maybe it's a first-world problem, or maybe it's an American one, but I'm certain it's not just mine.  Isn't it easy to envy other people who seemingly have it made?  Isn't it easy to be discontent with the car I drive or the house I call home or the neighborhood where I live or the gifts and talents I have or everything else about my life that just isn't good enough?  Isn't it far too easy to feel like other people "have it made, piling up riches" while we are "stupid to play by the rules" (vs. 12 in The Message)?

I have often said that the greatest disservice my mother ever did me was to teach me that I wasn't any more important than anyone else.  It makes me wait in line longer than other people do, it makes me give money to church and to other people who need it, it makes me spend some of my free time working for others.  It forces me to be a little bit less selfish.

Yet, I still forget.  I still look at other people and all that they have and wonder if--how--I can get my hands on some of it.

And then I'm reminded.  Whether it's by a blown call in a football game, giving a touchdown to someone who must know he didn't score one, or an artist selflessly offering to create something to benefit other people, or a few verses from a Psalm that I've read many times before.  I'm reminded.

"No doubt about it!  God is good . . . But I nearly missed it."

God, today, please open my eyes.  Let me focus on the higher purpose.  Let my focus be You and Your goodness.

You're all I want in heaven!
You're all I want on earth!
When my skin sags and my bones get brittle,
God is rock-firm and faithful.
Look!  Those who left you are falling apart!
Deserters, they'll never be heard from again.
But I'm in the very presence of God--
oh, how refreshing it is!
I've made Lord God my home.
God, I'm telling the world what you do!

Psalm 73:25-28, The Message

Task One = Disappointing Revelations

Task one: Search magazine shelves to gauge "current events." Use them to inspire your written words.

Last night (largely because of the deep breathing yesterday required), I got a "Free Mommy" pass to get out of the house for a couple of hours. Since I wasn't interested in meeting up with the Rogue fanatics at what Beau believed was the Monday-night Palin book signing at Barnes & Noble, I went to Schuler's. In addition to checking out all of the little gifty things (can't resist them!), I stopped by the magazine racks to knock Writer Mama's first task off my list.

Observations:
* There are likely more magazines published each month than literate human beings to read them.
* Literacy is likely not required to enjoy all of the publications. Intelligence is certainly not required.

* Clothing for cover models is obviously not required.

* The line between what consumers actually want and what the media forces down our throats is blurry. All too blurry.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm as superficial as the next girl. I also enjoyed reading the Twilight series. It was a great story--a fun romance for a girl who doesn't much like romances. But there are a few things worth noting, Dear Media:
1) Stephenie Meyer is not an outstanding writer. She spun a great yarn--much like Stephen King does--but her writing isn't gripping, her dialogue is lacking, and her characters lack depth.
2) Kristen Stewart and Rob Pattinson are not my Bella and Edward. Sure, Pattinson is fine to look at, but did his acting need to be stonier than his vampire flesh? And don't even get me started on Stewart! I hoped it was just for the film--just because Bella is supposed to be a bit awkward and shocked by the small-town obsession with her--but I've seen her in other things. She. Can't. Act. Period. If I am forced to swallow one more quote about her being one of the finest actresses of this generation, I'm going to scream. And I'm going to quit going to the movies. Or at least even believing I might enjoy them. Her being one of the finest actresses of this generation says bad things about this generation.
3) While the films and the novels might "define this generation," they won't stand the test of time. My children won't be studying them in their literature classes, and my grandchildren will find them on my bookshelf and likely pass right by them. They surely won't watch the films (except with the same amusement that we offer the acting in [all of] the Star Wars films).

Perhaps my thoughts above are indicative of many of the challenges facing this generation and its definition of art, reality, and talent. When "reality" TV encourages parents to use their children as pawns to hijack the media and already-budget-tapped law enforcement agencies or as ATMs to fund their jetset lifestyles and tummy tucks, a generation just might be lost. When "talent" is limited to celebrities who are famous for doing absolutely nothing other than spending money and sleeping around and partying their youth away, a generation just might be confused. When "art" is defined by subpar literature that carries a decent plot and acting that would bore even vampires to death, a generation just might be bought. And sold.

It all makes me concerned for my children. What will they watch, read, enjoy? It also makes me concerned for my own entertainment. Smart television is pulled from the screen for sex and crude comedies. The best movies of the year tend to be animated or rehashed from what we watched when I was a kid. Books are republished as soon as the movie version is released, and the actually artful cover art is replaced with the faces of the actors and actresses that destroyed the characters' limited credibility and deviated so far from the original plot that it is barely recognizable.

I may actually have to start using my brain here to come up with my own entertainment. That is, if I can find it under the mountains of trees wasted to print whatever I'm being sold this week.

As I'm looking for it, perhaps you could answer a question for me, Dear Media. Which came first: my desire for more on Jon & Kate, New Moon, Carrie Prejean, Sarah Palin, and the Balloon Boy or you burying everything that would be more worth my time so all I can see is this? And where can I opt out of what you're selling?

Task one: I suppose disgust can be as great a muse as intrigue.