Of Mice (and Roaches) And Men

I had no idea that roaches could tell time.

I can't say I'm surprised, of course. As in my recent epiphany about mailer-daemons (mailer-daemi?), I'm well aware of the organizational capabilities of the powers of darkness. I'm just saying that I much preferred dwelling in blissful ignorance.

Here at 202 Flatbush, we have a resident roach named Stan. He works alone, fortunately, and seems to reside only in our bathroom... and none of my roommates have seen him for weeks now. I, on the other hand, have seen him three times this week alone. Normally I would consider the possibility that Stan was a figment of my imagination, or part of a very vivid dream. However, the last time that I saw him the door jamb got in the way of my rapidly flailing limbs and left me with a very tangible piece of evidence to the contrary (in the form of a colorful bruise on my left forearm). Upon further investigation, I realized that the reason why my roommates have probably not encountered Stan recently is that I've only seen him between midnight and 1:00 am, when my roommates are asleep. Why is it that Stan chooses to manifest only between these hours? I can't imagine. Frankly, I'd rather not imagine. All I know is that in the nanoseconds between making visual contact with Stan and creating an Amy-shaped hole in the bathroom door... I can see the plotting in his roachy eyes.

Do roaches have eyes? *pause for thought*

Even if they didn't, and the alleged "plotting" that I saw in Stan's eyes was actually a well-placed speck of dirt, that does NOT dissuade me from believing that these midnight appearances are more than mere coincidence. Stan is not the only Creature of Darkness that has invaded our domain-- several months ago there was Norm and Babycakes and several of their minions.

What NOT To Say When A Friend Text Messages You, Panic-Stricken, Because A Mouse Has Just Run Out of Her Closet at Midnight And She Tells You She Is Standing On Her Bed Armed With Only a Flashlight

(these were actual responses given)

• Just pray him out.
• Well, coax him into a corner and catch him. Do you have any Tupperware?
• HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I do love my friends dearly, but there was some serious ball droppage here.

Regardless, there was a very obvious pattern of calculation in Norm's maneuvers from the very beginning. There was "Just Disgust" (appearing for the first time on TOP of our kitchen counter), "Element of Surprise" (sending two cronies to get caught in a glue trap and somehow sliding said trap so that it would be within inches of Amy's feet when she sat down at the computer) and, of course, "The Decoy" (allowing a compadre with similar coloring to get caught, making us think that the nightmare was over). "The Decoy" failed miserably however... Norm was a dark-skinned rodent, and his poorly chosen decoy was clearly mulatto.

Even though that particular tactic failed, the war waged on for weeks and caused irreperable psychological damage. I could just see Norm sitting at his Mac somewhere behind the walls of our living room, receiving updates from Personnel and checking his Human Distress Meter before a debriefing with the infantry.

See, this is just one more reason why I believe that there are some creatures that fall outside of God's original plan for the earth. Think about other creatures that might end up inside an apartment. Take flies, for example. What do they do when they find themselves indoors? Either head immediately for the nearest lamp and scald themselves to death, or attempt to fly out a closed window over and over again until they knock themselves unconscious (or are helped along by a flyswatter or, depending on the patience level of the homeowner, an unabridged dictionary). CLEARLY no intelligence is involved here. But roaches? Rodents? They bide their time... wait for the proper moment... and then strike. They must be receiving their orders from SOMEwhere.

Which is why I believe that, rather than having been created by God on the sixth day of creation like all of the nice creatures such as bunnies and panda bears... some creatures came about as a direct result of the fall of man. Seriously, can you imagine Adam and Eve fellowshipping with, say, a louse? No, no, no. It must have been that, just like death, certain things came about as a result of sin.

Adam: *crunching* Mmm, great idea, Eve. This apple tastes GREAT!

Eve: See, if you'd just LISTEN to me once in a while, you'd AAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEE!!! WHAT IS THAT HIDEOUS THING???

Adam: Hey, I thought you liked it when I wore my hair this way.

Eve: Not YOU-- THAT!!! It's hideous! Whoa, and it's FAST! *jumps up on tree stump* KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!

Adam: Sorry, the first murder of the Bible is reserved for our son.

Eve: What's the Bible?

I know, I know. It might be a bit theologically unsound. But come on, people... if any creature can embody sin, it would be a roach or a rat. Unfortunately for Adam and Eve, the Rat Zapper (www.ratzapper.com) was not invented until 1994. I'll spare you the details but let's just say that Norm's minions have returned to their maker... whoever it may be.

Or it could be that I live in New York City, whose official population would quadruple if roaches and rats were included in the census, and that I should stop whining and pray those rodents out of my apartment. Well, if THAT be true... then how do you explain THIS???

Amy's Great Adventurette XXXVII: Norm's Revenge

After a long day of helping Zakiya and Jeff move out of their apartment, I was trudging back up the stairs after bringing down another armful of goods to be loaded into the van. I stopped to chat with Z for a few minutes, making sure that all was well with the last bit of packing, and I even managed to avoid tripping over the doorway that had bested me seven other times that day. Feeling somewhat proud of myself for that small accomplishment, I grabbed a couple of garbage bags and started to make my way down the stairs... when I felt a strange sensation on my right foot. It felt like I was dragging something on my sneaker. Perhaps a stray paper towel, or a plastic bag? Right before I looked down, I remembered thinking "it almost feels.. sticky."

There, stuck firmly to my right sneaker... was a glue trap.

".... um .... Zakiya ....?"

Zakiya walked out of the kitchen, took one look at the situation at hand, and said, "This is N.G. Not Good."

No, seriously, Zakiya handled the situation extremely well and managed to come rather quickly to my aid, despite laughing uproariously. I would like to take this opportunity to commend CatchMaster, Inc. for the fine quality of their product, because it was nearly impossible to get that thing off of my shoe. After a great deal of straining and the strategic use of a paper towel, I was free. I tested a couple of steps and it felt like I had just stepped in gum. I smiled bravely and thanked Zakiya for her help as she threw out the offending trap and then made it almost to the refrigerator before succumbing to another bout of laughter.

It was funny, though, because as I started toward the steps again, it was my LEFT foot that started feeling sticky. I mean, I've heard of phantom pains but that's a little excessive. Just to make sure I wasn't losing my mind, I looked down at my other sneaker.

".... um.... Zakiya ....?

By this point, I thought that poor Zakiya was going to die. I don't know how she even made it back out to the hallway to help me scrape off YET ANOTHER glue trap. And, in case you haven't assumed this already, yes, these ARE the same sneakers that were featured in "Putting My Best Foot Forward."

Now tell me that this wasn't an OBVIOUS revenge attempt by the sin-spawned vermin whose comrades succumbed to my Rat Zapper. I'm sure that Norm enjoyed every moment as he watched via video conferencing before powering down his iBook for the evening.

Well, it's almost midnight, so I might as well go check on Stan. Babycakes, incidentally, was the name of the perp that came out of my closet that fateful evening. I knew that HE wasn't Norm because Babycakes was white and only half Norm's size. At least Norm is an equal opportunity employer.

A-Musings II: Gotta Go To God's

Please don't misunderstand. The fact that I've posted A-Musings for two straight weeks does NOT mean that I haven't done anything foolhardy in two weeks. Au contraire (French for 'whatev'). In fact, here's just a smattering of oopses that I've accomplished since the shoe incident:

• Locking my keys in the car ONCE AGAIN while taking a friend to the doctor's office.
• Waking up one morning to find five insect bites on myself in the shape of the Big Dipper (sort of like crop circles... but not.)
• Walking around my neighborhood for 15 minutes because I couldn't remember where my car was.
• Arriving home at 5:30 am after the Transitions All-Night Prayer Meeting and realizing that my house keys were sitting upstairs on my bed.

So don't worry. Things are just as they should be in Amyville. In fact, there was a perfect AGA incident that occured on Friday, but the circumstances must remain classified until next month.

So while you wait.... let's muse over some A-Musings.

******

My spiritual gift is E.

While you're chewing on that, I'll give a quick shout out to Nana, who has re-claimed her life after spending 25 hours per day studying for her MCAT... and also because she is the ONLY person who posted a comment after reading "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" *ahem ahem*. Also, just to keep you posted on previous events, I have since returned to the Jersey Gardens Mall and exchanged the two right shoes for a right and a left. The next day, I went out to play softball and forgot to change into my cleats, and got dirt in EVERY POSSIBLE CREVICE of those shoes.

But back to E. See, I have an uncanny yet unsurprising ability to fail tests that don't have right or wrong answers. It's incredible, really. For example, I took a test a few weeks ago to determine which careers I was best suited for. It was a simple test, asking questions about my likes and dislikes, values, personality type, etc. When I received my computerized results via email, I read a statement that basically said (in lots of technical jargon):

Scientifically speaking, you shouldn't be able to exist.

Well, that's about accurate. I've always said that I can singlehandedly disprove Darwin's Theory of Evolution by my mere existence. If survival of the fittest were true, I would SO not be around right now. However, I think they were more referring to the fact that my answers were seemingly contradictory and my personality type was undefinable... so they couldn't really give me results.

But don't think this is the first time that I've confounded a test of this nature. Some of you may remember the Spiritual Gifts inventory that Brian gave out at Transitions a while back. In case you weren't familiar, it was basically a questionnaire that helped to show you what some of your spiritual gifts might be and then gave some ministries that might be a good fit with a person of that particular gifting.

This was very exciting to me, as I had no clue what gift I might have. The gift of Foolishness wasn't listed, so I figured this might be an opportunity to branch out and fan into flame some of those other gifts that might be lying dormant. (I've now sat here for about 30 seconds, laughing hysterically at the word 'dormant.' I have no idea why.) I finished up the questions and then began adding up the numbers. The higher your number, the more you line up with that particular gift. If I remember correctly, which is unlikely, a score of 9 or higher indicated that you might be gifted in this area. When I finished, I sat scratching my head... because my paper looked something like this:

Gift 1: 5

Gift 2: 5

Gift 3: 5

Gift 4: 5

Gift 6: 5

Gift 7: 0

Gift 8: 5

Gift 9: 5

Gift 10: 5

Amazing. I rightly deduced that I probably should not pursue a career in Gift 7, but after that I was a bit stuck. I thought that maybe my computation was inaccurate or that I wasn't taking the test correctly, so I waited a couple of weeks and tried again-- same result.

Not a problem, people! I have since discovered that I have one of the cooler spiritual gifts out there. Remember when you took those evil tests in high school that had three multiple choice questions and then the choices 'all of the above' and 'none of the above'? Well, choice E was always 'none of the above.' It didn't mean "nothing," it just meant "not on this list of choices." That's my gift! E. I love it-- it's adaptable, interchangable and undefinable. And speaking of undefinable...

******

Who is Sam Hill? And why was he so important? Why do people say, 'What in the name of Sam Hill...?' What does that even mean?

******

Customer Service Representative: Welcome to God's, how can I help you?

Me: Oh, um, yes. Hi! Um, I need to return a gift.

CSR: ... I'm... sorry?

Me: I need to return a gift, please. It's malfunctioning.

CSR: Oh! I see. You're looking for Repairs. Down the hall, first door on your left.

Me: No, you don't understand. I don't want it fixed. I don't like it. I want to return it. It doesn't work, and it just brings me pain and frustration. It was obviously given to the wrong person, so if I could just give it back and be on my way, I would appreciate it.

CSR: .... Oh...... I see. *looks very confused* I'm sorry, it's just that... we don't accept returns.

Me: Oh. Okay, then I'll just exchange it. Any chance I could trade it for the ability to fly?? I've always wanted to do that. Or maybe omniscience, yeah, that'd be cool. But that one's probably for owners only, right? No matter. Just point me towards the Holy Spirit section and I'm sure I can find something in there.

CSR: I'm sorry, ma'am. We don't do exchanges either.

Me: Then what good are you?! Look, you don't seem to understand my situation. Other people have gifts, and they work. They use them, and people are blessed and God's kingdom is expanded. My gift isn't like that. It hurts me and it hurts other people. It controls me instead of me controlling it. It doesn't help anyone and it's not bringing any glory to God. I wouldn't call it a gift. I'd call it a thorn. A problem. A hindrance. I don't want it, and I'm sure that God doesn't want me to have it. If He did, then it would work and I wouldn't be here.

CSR: .... I understand, ma'am. I think there's someone here who might be able to help you. Would you mind waiting for a moment?

*I wait. After a few minutes, CSR returns with a man wearing a God's uniform.*

Me: Are you the manager? Great. Let me explain why I'm here, and--

Paul: I know why you're here. You'd like to exchange a gift, right?

Me: .... well, yes. How did you know that?

Paul: I used to come here for the exact same reason.

Me: Really?

Paul: Really. In fact... I came three times.

Me: THREE times! That's perseverence. I'm hoping I only have to come this once. It's not like it's easy to get here, you know. That winding staircase is a killer. So, where did you go? Who did you have to talk to in order to give back your gift?

Paul: Well, that's just it. I talked to everyone. I came to Customer Service and they wouldn't listen. I was desperate, you know, so I made a big stink. I asked to see the manager, and then I asked to see HIS manager. I complained so much and I was so insistent that I finally got an audience with the Owner.

Me: *jaw drops* You did not.

Paul: I assure you, I did.

Me: WHOA!!! Well, that's GREAT! He must have been able to do something for you, right? I hear that He's the one who decides who gets which gifts in the first place. So.... you told him that He must have made a mistake... and you want Him to take it back!

Paul: I did.

Me: And?? What did He say?

Paul: "My strength is made perfect in your weakness."

Me: .... huh?

Paul: He said, "My strength is made perfect in your weakness." He told me that He had given me that gift for a purpose, and that part of that purpose was learning what it meant to be weak so that He could show Himself strong. See, Amy, if your gift was managable and if you could make it work, then you wouldn't need Him. You'd be able to make things happen on your own, and that would take away from the main reason why He gave you the gift in the first place... to glorify Him. I used to think that if I couldn't control something, or if something caused me pain, it was evil and that I could just ask and it would be taken away. Now I know better. Now I know that my thorn was an opportunity for Him to shine. Now I BOAST in my weaknesses, my thorns, and my 'malfunctioning' gifts. For when I am weak...

Me: .... He is made strong. Thanks, Paul.

CSR: Is there anything else I can help you with today, ma'am?

Me: .... yes, Ma'am. Do you have any Grace in stock?

CSR: Always. That product is a part of our In-Stock Guarantee program. Just stop by the Mercy Seat on your way out. It's waiting there for you.

Me: Thanks.

CSR: And thank you for shopping at God's.

A-Musings I: Reject Demons and Ram Rights

Amy: You know when you have an interlude dream?

Innocent Bystander: Uh.... what?

Amy: An interlude dream. Like... you finish your first dream. And then before you have your next dream, there's a... an interlude. Like a little scene, real short, in between dreams.

IB: ..............what???

Amy: *sighs impatiently* It's just a little vignette. A short scene. It's almost like the second dream wasn't quite ready to begin yet, so they just had to pull something off the shelf and show it real quick while they got ready.

IB: You... you have to stop pretending that you're normal.

EXCellently put, IB! This little conversation served as the perfect introduction to the A-Musings series, the first series to debut as part of Foolish Things Ministries. Before we begin, I'd like to shout out to two people in particular that were instrumental in developing this series. My roommate, Nana, who has been listening to A-Musings for about 2 years now, and hasn't yet had me committed. A thousand thanks, Nana. And a special thanks also to Patty, who had the audacity and fearlessness to say "I wish I could get inside your head" before Story of Love on Friday, which gave me the courage to think that perhaps other might be able to survive the experience. Please take special note of the Surgeon General's Warnings contained in the archived episodes "The Keys To Success" before reading on.
******
You know who I really can't stand? MAILER-DAEMON. You know who that is, right? The guy who bounces all your e-mails back to you for no apparent reason? Simpleton as I am, I used to think there was just one, and that it was just some computer hacker or something. Oh, but I'm onto their little game now. Oh yes. Gotta get up PRET-TY early in the morning to pull one over MY eyes.

See, first of all, they're organized. There's a "mailer daemon" for every e-mail system that exists. Yahoo, Hotmail, AOL, Mac, you name it, they've got a daemon. You know what, let's be real. Take out that "A," which, by the way, is a pitiful attempt for them to disguise their true nature. Just cause you stuck that extra little "A" in your last name, you think you can fool people, huh? MAILER DAY-EE-MON. Pathetic.

But then I started thinking... man, that demon sure got grunt duty. I mean, here they are, trying to serve the devil, bring down Christians, thwart God's plans for the world... big-time stuff... and here's this one guy (or several guys), stuck in a mail room somewhere, bouncing back e-mails.

See, MY theory is, they're the rejects. They must have been assigned to people who ended up getting saved, and then they were in HOT WATER... or should I say... HOT FIRE *badoom crash.* The boss was probably none too happy with them, since they failed miserably at their jobs, but they had to put them SOMEplace. So... mail room it was. You kinda feel bad for them. So who knows? If you're a Christian, maybe you were personally responsible for the creation of another MAILER-DAEMON.
******
Speaking of salvation, you know what else gets my dander up? The word dander. What's THAT expression about? Also, I feel as though I need to begin to champion a very serious cause, and I'm hoping you'll join me. Now. I know that, in the end, it's really all about the Lord. Like the apostle Paul once said, "I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow." I understand that it really doesn't matter who gets the credit for things. However, I really believe that the Christian community as a whole is guilty of grossly underestimating the role of a very key Biblical player.

If it were not for this character, Israel would never have come into existence. In fact, if I may be so bold, it would not have been possible for our Savior to have been born without the champion of my cause. I daresay, I have never heard a preacher, songwriter, teacher or evangelist spend more than 2 minutes on this individual... yet billions of sermons, songs, lessons and exhortations are a DIRECT RESULT of this hero. One of the very names of God Himself was birthed because of his involvement in God's sovereign plan.

The ram.

Yes, that's right. And for further proof that we have made such an egregious error in forgetting his accomplishment, I bet most of you are staring at the screen right now thinking "the ram.... hmm... now, which ram was this?" or "ram, ram, ram.... sorry, not ringing a bell."

The ram, people! You know the story-- God wakes Abraham up one day and tells him to go take his son Isaac and sacrifice him... Abraham puts Isaac on the altar, raises his arm to slaughter his son, and the angel of the Lord appears! And what happens?

"Abraham looked up and there in a thicket he saw a ram caught by its horns. He went over and took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place JEHOVAH JIREH (The Lord Will Provide)." (Gen 22:13-14)

Can you just take a minute and imagine this from the ram's perspective? See, I happen to think that God supernaturally transported the ram to that spot at the last minute. Cause what animal would come over and graze near a place where there was commotion? So here's the ram, chillin', minding his own business and chewing on some grass. Maybe thinking about his upcoming nap, or pondering whether or not to approach the ramette that he noticed as he was coming down to graze. He bends down to eat another morsel, opens his mouth... and suddenly notices that something's different. Mouth still open, he looks up slowly with his eyes... and he sees a boy tied down to an altar, head up, looking in his direction. Abraham, with knife in hand, eyeing him with relief. And an angel, hovering above it all, pointing at him.

Aw, COME ON!!!!, he might have said (in ram of course. Hebrew ram.) He tries to get away... but his dumb horns are caught in some thicket. Of course, THEN he remembers his mother's nagging voice: I told you to CUT those things! And before you know it, he's dead. Sacrificed on the altar, as Abraham and Isaac walk away, arms entertwined, appropriately grateful to God for sparing Isaac's life.

Now, I am not asking for much. Just a little bit of respect, admiration, and dare I say gratitude for this innocent ram, plucked from his home and martyred so that the plan of God could go forth. But no. No sermons... no songs. No mention in Foxe's Book of Martyrs.

I am hereby championing the RRC (Ram Rights Coalition) so that we can educate those around us as to the importance of this underrated, crucial character.

I would like to give special mention here to Michael Card, whose song "El Shaddai" made mention of this heroic act. As quoted here in verse 2:

"Through Your love and through the ram / You saved the son of Abraham."

And finally, two thumbs firmly down to Jody McBreyer and Avalon, who had a perfect opportunity to include the ram in their song "You Were There," but failed to do so. Again, in verse 2:

"So there he stood upon that hill / Abraham with knife in hand was poised to kill / But God in all His sovereignty had bigger plans / And just in time / He brought a lamb."

..... a WHAT?????? A RAM!!!!! IT RHYMES!!!!

No respect. Help me out here, people. Education is the key to ending ignorance.

Putting My Best Foot Forward

Today's scheduled program, entitled "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" has been postponed due to a recent must-tell bout of senselessness and irony. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you, and we promise that "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" will air sometime this week. -FTM Staff
********************************************************

Six months ago, FTM celebrated its 25th anniversary. That's 25 years that I've spent getting myself into situations that no other living, breathing humanoid would ever find themselves in.

So why is it, pray tell, that I'm still surprised when these things happen? YOU all are not surprised. In fact, when I tell you that another AGA moment has occurred, you usually just smile and nod and think that all is right with the world, and move along. You say such things as:

• *checks watch* "Well, it HAS been over 24 hours..."
• "Great!! Can't wait for the post..."
• "ah, so THAT would explain why you're dripping wet."

These remarks, of course, come from seasoned saints who are well-schooled in the workings of FTM and know alllllllllll about irony of fate. Well, whether you're a seasoned saint or a newbie, check this one out...

Amy's Great Adventures, Episode XXVIII: Putting My Best Foot Forward

Monday, March 27th, 2006.

Allow me to set the scene for you. I'm cruising in Min, on my way to Jersey, and--

Totally Unnecessary Tangent #1: Okay, after reading those first 18 words, anyone with the IQ of a breadstick has already accepted the fact that an AGA incident will take place. I don't think anyone has ever driven to Jersey without having some kind of incident take place. With apologies to those who live/work/care about New Jersey, and with all due respect given to the Embroidery Capital of the World (not making that up)... New Jersey is the armpit of the northeast. I cannot STAND it. It is federal law that any driver who, under the influence of some obvious mental deficiency, chooses to drive past the state boundary must IMMEDIATELY get lost. It is also the only place, to my knowledge, that can smell worse than Manhattan Garbage Pick-Up Day in 90 Degree Heat. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

-- it was a beautiful day. I had volunteered myself (and Min) to help transport some BT staff members to the Jersey Gardens mall to pick up some items, and I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing time of looking longingly at all of the items that I would WANT to buy if I had any money.

We found the mall without incident, and went inside. I immediately noticed a Skechers store and then looked down at my feet, and thought "I REALLY need new sneakers." You know it's time to get new sneakers when a) you can see any part of any one of your toes and b) the sneaker has turned at least two hues lighter or darker on the color palette than the original. My sneakers had both, but my wallet was laughing at me so i moved along.

During the middle of the day, I realized that I needed to get to a drugstore to make a purchase. I couldn't find any in the directory, but the lady at the "Information" booth had directions to a Walgreens which was about 2 miles down the road. I took the directions, professionally printed out from MapQuest, called my friends to let them know that I was going to take a brief detour with Min and be back soon.

Totally Unnecessary Tangent #2: I'm noticing more and more how calm things always seem before the chaos sets in. I take care of everything that I need to take care of... things seem like they are rolling along smoothly... and then BAM!! I guess God must think it makes for a better story that way. Aaaaand we're back...

So I got out my MapQuest directions, made sure I was starting in the right direction on the right road, and set off. I even plugged in my IPod, Po, with my nifty little contraption that hooks up through the cigarette lighter in my car so that I can listen to my IPod on the road. I was cruisin. But somehow... perhaps distracted by checking the speedometer or glancing in my rearview mirrors or engaging in some other totally inappropriate action while driving, such as blinking... I ended up on a major highway. I have no idea how this happened. In fact, according to the six different maps that I ended up using during Part I of this adventure, there were no major highways near where I was. However, I was not thinking according to Amy's Law.

Amy's Law: If, in the course of human events, we the people decide to form a more perfect idea that could go wrong, there is an equal and opposite reaction that requires an object in motion to remain in motion until it is acted on by a force, unless that force is losing one's keys, which will always be found in the last place you look, except if that place happens to be in the bottom of a cosmetics bags.

So! Clearly, it can be seen that according to Amy's Law, one does not necessarily need to be located NEAR a highway in order to suddenly find oneself on it. And that is precisely what happened to me. But I did not panic. I simply relied on a time-tested, tried-and-true strategy for what to do when you find yourself on a nonexistent major highway: Take your very first exit, which, according to Amy's Law, will immediately place you on an even majorer highway. I followed this effective strategy for about 15 minutes, exiting onto highway after highway, until I finally decided to opt for Plan B, which was to pull over and look at a map. Always prepared, I had six maps in my car that contained parts of New Jersey. After carefully examining each map, I came to the foregone conclusion that none of those six maps contained the part that I was in. So I went to Plan C, which was to figure out which direction I think I should be going in, and then just do whatever I could to keep driving in that direction until I found someplace that I recognized.

Believe it or not... it worked! I kept driving in one general direction and suddenly I got to a spot where I could see Jersey Gardens! The only problem was that it was on the opposite side of a large body of water. Not a problem-- at least I can see where I need to go. I let out a deep breath and relaxed for just a moment. And in that moment, I nearly ran over a large Hispanic man who was standing in the middle of the street.

See, I was so focused on where I needed to go that I wasn't really paying attention to where I was. And where I was was in a place that vaguely resembled that area in Brooklyn by 2nd avenue where all of those docks are... (if you're an AGA veteran, this was DEFINITELY a double black diamond neighborhood). I realized that I needed to get out of here Right Away, so I tried to look as menacing as possible while performing an 11-point turn to get Min facing the right direction. In the chaos, I inadvertently turned on the windshield wipers and activated my turn signal. *shaking head* It's really a wonder that I survived Poughkeepsie, let alone Brooklyn.

So finally, I ended up getting back into a less frightening area, and asked someone for directions to get back to Jersey Gardens. The woman was very nice and I ended up following her to get back, so there were no more problems. I called my friends and let them know that I was back, and they said that they would be just a little bit longer, so I ended up walking back into the mall, past the Skechers store.

At this point, my feet were KILLING me. I had been walking/driving all day, and my back was starting to hurt. I knew that part of that was from the fact that my sneakers were in desperate need of replacement. There was a large SALE sign in the store window, so I thought I would take a peek. I ended up finding the EXACT sneakers that I wanted-- these black low-tops that I had before this current pair. I looked for my size-- score! They had it.

TUT #3: I don't even bother shopping for women's sneakers anymore. I just save myself the pain and go to the men's section. NOBODY carries size 11 WIDE. I have boats attached to my ankles. I could water ski skiless.

I immediately took out the shoes and put on one of the sneakers, just to check the size. I already knew that I liked the sneaker because I had worn it before. As I was doing this, I noticed that the sign that advertised the sale said "buy 1, get one half off." So I looked for another pair of casual sneaker/shoes (since I didn't have any of those either) and found a nice brown pair that I was interested in. I tried them on and they felt fine, and right at that moment my friends called and said they were going to the car and to meet them in 5 minutes. I hurriedly gathered up my purchases, slapped my credit card on the table with miminal guilt (I really did need the sneakers) and walked out of the store in 3 minutes flat.

I had rehearsal for "Story of Love" that night, and I decided that I would use that rehearsal to break in my new black sneakers. I got them out of the trunk and brought the box into the front seat and took off my old sneaks. I was only sort of half-paying attention to what I was doing, because I was checking the time to make sure I wasn't late, and making sure I didn't lock my keys in the car *ahem*, so it didn't surprise me that I put the shoe on the wrong foot.

"Hee hee," I thought, and absent-mindedly reached for the other shoe. By this point, I was rummaging around the car to make sure I hadn't left anything, while shoving my foot into the sneaker. Something STILL felt wrong... what is UP with this sneaker?? I looked down and the sneaker was still on the wrong foot. I rolled my eyes in exasperation-- how hard is it to put on a shoe?

Apparently very hard, if both sneakers were right ones.

Yes, that's right. Two right sneakers.

Now I would have caught this problem if I had chosen to try on the LEFT sneaker in the store. I also would have caught the problem if I hadn't left the store so quickly. There were about 6 different boxes that had my size, and I actually went for another box first, but put it back because the other box was "nicer." And in order for me to RETURN the sneakers... I would have to go back to Jersey. Unbelievable. Yet, on the other hand, completely believable. Why?

Because we are....

Foolish Things Ministries:

Confounding Wisdom and Common Sense in a Neighborhood Near You!

Thanks, BRIAN.

So, if you missed the excitement, last night at Transitions, Brian had a Great Idea. It began with the innocuous words, "Amy, could you stand up for a minute?"

I said, "No."

Well, actually, I said, "*looks around*... me?," which was extremely intelligent considering he had just said my name and was staring at me. But I almost said, "No."

Why, you may ask? Because I had NO IDEA what Brian was about to say. And all I could do was slowly stand up, give a little wave, and think OH MY GOODNESS WHAT HAVE I DONE THAT WOULD MAKE BRIAN ASK ME TO STAND???? Master's degree? No, that was last summer. Birthday? Not even close. Oh my goodness... what if he tells some embarrasing story about me? I don't want people knowing if I do stupid things!

*badoom crash*

Brian continued, taking his time with each syllable, "Amy has just recently--"

WHAT HAS AMY RECENTLY DONE???
Graduated? No.
Moved? No.
Had a baby? Only one virgin birth.
Gotten married? Probably would have remembered that.

And if you're thinking "there's no way you could have thought all of that in the time it took for Brian to say one sentence," then you have never entered into the depths of my mind, which is a blessing that you should treasure with all of your heart.

--started a website blah blah blah blah."

To which I gave the sophisticated and eloquent response, "NO... WAY."

By the end of the torture, I had introduced FTM (Foolish Things Ministries) and given out this website. I then realized that newcomers would be completely clueless as to what in the world was going on here, and therefore would fit right in with the staff here at FTM.

No, seriously, I didn't want people to be confused-- that's not part of our mission statement. So please note the following announcements and stay tuned for the next post, which will be called "Reject Demons and Ram Rights" and will kick off the A-musings series at FTM.

• If you are new to FTM, please read the post entitled "If You're New..." It can be found under the section called "Previous" on the right hand side of the post.
• We now have an e-mail address that you can write to at any time with suggestions, questions, comments, complaints, criticisms and compliments. Nice and simple: foolishthingsministries@gmail.com.
• If you would like to leave a comment on any post, PLEASE don't post as anonymous. If you click on the option that says "other," you can just leave your name and just ignore the part that says "website," unless you want to enter one.
• All archived AGA (Amy's Great Adventures) episodes are now online! If you'd like to read any previous episodes, just click on the link under "Archives" that goes with the date of the episode. Each month listed has a new episode and there are 10 of them! :)

Intro, yo.

Welcome, friends, to Foolish Things Ministries!

If you are a long-standing partner with FTM, you are already aware of our reputation for being a top-notch provider of high-quality hijinks. If you're new, we welcome you to the team and encourage you to have absolutely no expectations whatsoever. That way, we'll probably exceed them.

I just recently gained full custody of Min (my 1997 Chevy Lumina), who has been driven and crashed by more of my friends than any other car that I am aware of *applause*. However, despite having been a licensed driver for almost ten years... it seems as though I might need a refresher course on the basics.

yeah, okay, so this isn't Min. but it's a REALLY cool picture.

I had just frantically pulled up in front of 202 Flatbush last Saturday morning. I did not want to be late for drama rehearsal, but my contact lenses were threatening to become part of my eye if I did not assuage them with some eye drops... so I left my compatriot (shout out to PJC) watching the car while I dashed upstairs. I grabbed what I needed and flew back out the door, nearly tripping on a huge garbage bag on the landing, and jumped back into Min. I looked behind me, put the car in reverse, and lighly tapped on the gas.

Something was wrong!! Min was not responding!! Code blue! The car began slowly rolling backwards down Flatbush Avenue. I tried slamming on the brakes but it was like they were stuck in molasses. I'm in full Panic Mode at this point, trying again to shift back into neutral, or into drive. I had both feet pressed as hard as I could against the brake and Min finally stopped. I frenetically rolled down my window and screamed out to my friend, who had just crossed the street, "HELP!! MIN IS UNCONSCIOUS!!"

He walked over, shook his head, and said, "Turn the car on, Amy."

Oh yeah. Oops.

If You're New...

Welcome to FTM! If you're joining us for the first time, let me just take a moment to explain to you what in the world is going on here.

FTM (Foolish Things Ministries) was birthed on a blustery September day twenty-five years ago, when I came into this world. Since that moment, I have been blessed with a unique ability to get myself into unbelievable situations that would never happen to anyone else. My job, as president and founder of FTM, is to write them down and share them with the world so that they can laugh. That's why our motto is "Our Embarrasment Is Your Entertainment."

FTM began with a series called Amy's Great Adventures (AGA) back in the year 2001. You can find all of the old AGA episodes in the archives, so that you can catch up on all of the episodes you've missed. We have just recently developed a segment called A-musings, which is basically just a smorgasbord of really random thoughts. We were going to called Things That We Think When We're Supposed To Be Doing Something Else, but we thought it was too long. So A-musings it is.

We at FTM LOVE to hear from our readers, so if you read a post, please feel free to leave a comment (just click on "comments") or drop us an email at foolishthingsministries@gmail.com.

The Keys To Success (January 2006)

I think I’m going to get a tattoo.

Okay, okay, scrape your eyebrows off of the ceiling. I don’t want to get a tattoo. But, for the good of humanity, I feel that this may be necessary. You know those warnings that they put on cigarettes? You know, the ones in size .0001 font, letting you know in vague and evasive language that the product that you’re using will almost definitely probably kill you? I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to have one of those babies written directly on my forehead. Something like…

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Prolonged Exposure To This Individual May Lead You Into Unanticipated Chaos.

Or if that one doesn’t fly, how about:

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Avoiding This Individual Greatly Reduces Serious Risks to Your Sanity.

I say this because I have reached the point in my life where even I am baffled at the amount of commotion that seems to pursue me. Others have been baffled for quite some time now, but I think I’m catching up. In fact, I’ve been doing some research about ironic situations, and I think I’ve found an answer. Check out this definition, provided for us today by wikipedia.com:

irony of fate, n.
1. The notion that the gods are amusing themselves by toying with the minds of mortals, with deliberate ironic intent.

Hello? Is that not me in a nutshell, or what? I think Webster’s could save a great deal of money and ink by changing their definition as follows:

irony of fate, n.
1. Amy.

Moment of Pondering #1: If you digress without really making a point in the first place… is it really a digression? *contemplative silence*

Okay, enough already! You people want an adventure, let’s get to it!
*AGA theme music begins*
*voice-over*

you've watched her through the years...

you gasped when she got decked in the face with a cross before a gospel choir concert... you howled with laughter when Lady With Cute Child loudly asked her if she was pregnant on the Q train... you marveled at her naiveté when she used her thimble-sized subway map to be her sole guide in trekking across the Brooklyn ghetto.

you understand the Etch-A-Sketch and Double Black Diamond Neighborhoods. you've met the Squawking Sisters, Needle-Flick Nurse, and the Threatening Looking Individuals.

and now...
the moment you've all been waiting for...

AMY'S!
GREAT!
ADVENTUUUUUURES!!!

*crowd goes wild*

let's give a warm welcome to the organization that makes it all possible, where "Our Embarrassment Is Your Entertainment," Foolish Things Ministries!

Thank you, thank you, you're too kind. Here at FTM it is our number one goal to see you amused by our stupidity. We've worked long and hard to... well... actually... we haven't really worked at all. These things just kinda happen to us. Ha ha! But, regardless, we are honored to regale you with our heroic tales of inanity. And now, FTM proudly presents to you:

Episode XVIII: The Keys To Success

Date: January 16th, 2006
Time: 10:30 am
Location: Lake Pleasant, NY (just 30 miles NNE of Nowhere)

It had been a fun-filled weekend with friends at my family’s cabin, and we were just about ready to venture out for our last day of skiing before returning home. We were all piled into two cars, attempting to get warm, as the temperatures were hovering in the single digits (although it was better that ski day #1, when it was -5 with a wind chill of -30!!)… when we started having some trouble. One of our cars was dangerously overheated and we did not feel that it was safe to drive. We were a bit disappointed, as this meant that our last ski day would probably not happen, but very glad that I had a AAA membership, which I got only DAYS after I managed to lock my keys in my car (see above note on irony of fate). I called AAA and got a very pleasant-sounding woman who professionally took down all of my information. That is, of course, until she asked for my location. “I’m sorry… you’re WHERE?,” was the response given. Apparently our location was so remote that she had to transfer me to a completely different AAA department with a different name. Something like AAA Northway. A new worker picked up the phone who did not sound HALF as professional as Pleasant Lady. In fact, she sounded a bit like Fran Drescher crossed with Chewbacca.

*pausing to let you try to even IMAGINE what that might sound like*

Despite my initial impression, she eventually was able to get us the help we needed, sending a tow truck that could bring the car to the ONE AAA location in about 50 miles, where it could be assessed. Eventually, after approximately 7 hours and a extraordinary amount of chaos (which I will skip in order to keep this e-mail shorter than War and Peace), we were back on the road. It was 6:00 pm.

Turmoil continued on the journey back home when the BQE was completely blocked off due to an accident, so we were forced to re-route deeper into Queens (motto: We Don’t Care If Our Road Signs Make No Sense) and wind our way back to Brooklyn. Basically, cars had been the major source of frustration for me this day, and I was just looking forward to getting OUT of one, getting INTO my bed, and going to sleep. After all, I had to work the next morning. We finally dropped off the last of our party and headed into Bay Ridge, where my car (Min) was waiting for me. It was 11:00 pm.

I decided to check my cell phone messages en route, and I had a message from one of my roommates, Erika. I punched in my password and began to listen.

*beep* Hey Amy, this is Erika. Um, I’m calling because there are some messages for you on our answering machine… something about your car being towed… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Oh, she said more. But after the words “car” and “towed,” I immediately slipped into Full Panic Mode and heard nothing but blahs. I turned to Jeremy, who was driving, and said “… there’s a message that says my car’s been towed.” The car was silent for about 5 seconds, and then we both simultaneously began to state out loud all of the reasons why that did NOT really mean that my car, Min, had been towed. We did this for about a minute, and then slipped into silence again. I was attempting to maintain at least a scrap of composure while also concentrating on keeping my heart inside of my chest. Fortunately, the traffic lights were with us on 4th Avenue, because had it taken about 5 minutes longer I probably would have gotten out and started running.

We turned the corner and I could barely look, until I heard Jeremy say, “there she is!” 16,000 cubic tons of air was released from my lungs and I began to chuckle almost involuntarily. Jeremy was chuckling too, and said “you see? God wouldn’t let that happen to you.”

Ah, Jeremy. That HAS to go in the Book of Phrases You Should Never Say Unless You Want Something Bad To Happen, along with “I’ll be right back,” and “What could possibly go wrong?”

But it looked like he was right—my car was in plain sight, we had made it to Bay Ridge in one piece, all members of our party had been delivered to their homes. All was well! “Why don’t you get your car warmed up, and I’ll start loading the stuff,” said Jeremy. All of a sudden, the craziness of the day caught up with me and I felt exhausted. In fact, I was so tired that my fingers couldn’t even locate the keys in the key pocket of my purse. I chuckled for a second before setting the bag down, thinking, “wouldn’t THAT just beat all, if I couldn’t find my keys?” Oh, I found them, all right. In the passenger’s seat of my car. My locked car. It was midnight.

By this time I was Done, capital-D-style. We went over to a car service place just to ask for advice, and they rigged up a coat hanger for us and sent us back out into the night. That (obviously) didn’t work, and I ended up taking Jeremy’s car home with a plan to go back the next day (hopefully with the spare key) and resolve the situation. I, of course, did NOT want to take this car into my possession, especially with my track record that day, but there really wasn’t a choice. I got in the car and drove home.

If you’re thinking, “okay, that has GOT to be the end of the story,” you aren’t speaking proper English. You also haven’t read very many AGA Episodes.

I woke up the next morning, after getting about 3 and a half hours of sleep, and RAN to the window to make sure that the car was still there, which it was. I gathered all of my stuff that I needed for the day and started down to the car. Halfway down the stairs, I realized that I had forgotten a couple of things upstairs, so I turned to go back… when I had an Idea. “Hey,” I thought. “It’s cold out. What if I went down to the car, started the engine, made sure the Club thingy is securely fastened, got out of the car, locked the car, went back upstairs, finished getting what I needed to get, came back down, unlocked the car, removed the Club thingy, and drove off to work in a nice, warmed car?? It’s FOOLPROOF!”

I had to separate the car key from the keyring, since the automatic door lock thingy needed to go with me and the car key needed to stay in the car. But alas, the car would not let me lock from the outside when the car was running. So I aborted my plan, turned off the car, put the key back on the keyring, went upstairs, finished my business, came back down, got into the car, unlocked the Club thingy, and went to put the key into the ignition. Except there was no key.

I have no idea how the key leaped off the keyring like it did. But I do know why. Irony of fate.

I searched EVERYWHERE for that key. By this time I was starting to seriously panic, 1) because I was about to be late to work and 2) because if I did not find this key, I was going to have to call Jeremy and explain that I had lost the key to his car. After momentarily considering just dashing out into heavy traffic, I resumed my search. By 9:00 I realized that I had to start putting money in the meter, so I went to get some quarters… but the meter was broken. “Woo hoo!,” I thought. “Now I don’t have to pay anything!” This, of course, was before I realized that there were NO other cars parked on this stretch. And ALL of the other meters were working, which meant that I could get ticketed for "choosing" a broken meter. But I can’t move the car, because the key is missing!

What To Do If Your Car Is Parked At A Broken Meter With No Other Cars Around You And Your Keys Are Missing So That You Cannot Move It:

a) Try putting quarters in the meter anyway, so that at least you’ve done the honest thing, even thought they will ticket you for an amount greater than the GNP of a small European nation.

b) Just leave it there and go upstairs and continue your search, while running every 15 seconds back to the window to make sure no one is anywhere NEAR the vehicle.

c) Stand there and cry.

The correct answer, of course, is c). It’s always c). But, once a), b), and c) become tiring, opt for d), which is to create a nifty hand-made sign using a Sharpie and some computer paper, saying “Hi! :) This meter is broken and I cannot move the car because the keys are missing.” Then include your cell phone number so that they can call you so that you can witness them ticketing you for an amount greater than the GNP of a small European nation.

After 2 hours of searching… I found the key! Not underneath the car. Not hidden in a small nook in the stairwell, covered by a spiderweb. Not, thank God, at the bottom of a large grate that I carefully inspected using the age-old technique of laying flat on your stomach and moving an inch at a time while ever germ every created has a field day in your hair.

I found it in the bottom of my cosmetics bag.

SURGEON GENERALS WARNING: Trying To Figure Out How This Possibly Could Have Happened Could Have Detrimental Effects On The Space Time Continuum.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any space for that tattoo. The forehead is already taken.

The Anti-Ghetto (August 2005)

I know. I'm sorry. It's been way too long.

If my calculations are correct, it's been almost two entire years since the last official AGA episode (Teaching Assistant Thinks Amy is an Alcoholic) and I really have no excuses for allowing this length of time to pass. I can't say that I've lost interest: after all, Foolish Things Ministries (FTM) is my passion (motto: Our Embarrassment Is Your Entertainment). I can't say that I haven't had the time to log entries, because most AGA episodes are penned after the midnight hour. And I certainly can't say that I just haven't done anything dumb in the past two years.

(Just pausing here to let those who are paralyzed with laughter scrape themselves off of the floor.)

Whatever the reason, I offer my deepest apologies. And now, without further ado, I present to you:

Amy's Great Adventures, Episode XVII: The Anti-Ghetto.

It all began on a beautiful Friday afternoon in downtown Brooklyn. I was very excited because I was going to see my friend Ivy's new apartment for the first time and just enjoy a nice relaxing evening. I met her at the Brooklyn Tabernacle and went down into the F train station. Upon swiping my MetroCard, I noticed that I had just spent my last $2.00 and made a mental note to pick up another card on my way back home.

Those of you who are schooled in AGA are probably beginning to chuckle at this point, thinking "Amy? Make a mental note? Oh, this is going to be good." I think the problem is that my mental notepad is actually an Etch-A-Sketch. So I make very detailed, thorough mental notes... but the minute that something else catches my attention, the Etch-A-Sketch swings back to ready itself for another mental note, completely eliminating the old one from existence. However, in this particular episode, Mental Etch-A-Sketch (MEAS) does not come into play... so to those who were chuckling, I say "HA! You think you're so smart?? I have PLENTY of other ways to engage in idiocy!"

Upon arriving at Ivy's house, I spent a very pleasant evening relaxing and catching up, sharing Brazil pictures, etc. At one point, her roommate stuck her head into the room and said, "Hey, can any of you use an unlimited MetroCard? I'm going away and it has about two days or so left on it..." Praise the Lord! Providence is the bomb. I didn't even ask for one, and the Lord drops one right in my lap. Woo hoo! Etch-A-Sketch, be free! I was about to leave Ivy's at about 10:00 pm, when I had my Most Brilliant Idea. I had taken the F train to get to Ivy's, but in order for me to get home I would have to take at least a train to a bus. However, I seemed to recall that Flatbush Avenue was somewhere very close by to where Ivy lived. If I could find Flatbush, then I could just hop on the 41 bus, which would take me directly to my house. I'm so smart.

Of course, I didn't just go wandering off into the Brooklyn night. I mean, what kind of FOOLISH PERSON would just START WALKING, not knowing where they are going, at 10:00 pm in the depths of Brooklyn?? Certainly not I! I whipped out my pocket subway map, which is approximately the size of a thimble, and squinted as I peered into the darkness. "Ah yes!," I exclaimed. "Here we are, and here's Flatbush! Only one block away!" Ivy, who is a Brooklyn newcomer, just happily pointed me in the right direction, and I set on my way.

Now, for those of you who are not as familiar with the New York City area, the word "block" can take on a variety of meanings. For example, in Manhattan there is a large difference between a "street block" and an "avenue block." A street block is what most people would commonly consider a "block." Walking a couple of street blocks is no big thing. If you would like to walk a couple of "avenue blocks," however, you might want to consider rationing your foodstuffs. Depending on the location in Manhattan, it would take a average person of somewhat stable physical health between 1 to 3 years to cross an avenue block. But if you're starting to get worried, don't. Remember, I'm not in Manhattan! I'm in Brooklyn, where avenue blocks and street blocks make no sense at all! A compass cannot even find North in Brooklyn. Blocks are a lot more casual here. Streets change name whenever they feel like it... blocks intersect each other two or three times... and every once in a while they will just uproot completely and plant themselves in a totally different area of Brooklyn. In fact, if any of you happen upon Maple St, please let me know. I once looked for an apartment on this block and it has been missing now for 3 years. Thank you.

Oh, the digression! I apologize. So let's recap here before the fun begins. The scene: Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn. 10:00 pm. Friday evening. Heading from Ivy's apartment towards Flatbush Avenue, "one block away." Alone. Anyone with the IQ of cabbage would realize that this is a recipe for Unbelievable Disaster. But no! If my one-centimeter-square subway map said that Flatbush is one block away, then by golly, it will be one block away! And it was one block away. However, the "block," in this case, happened to be the equivalent of fourteen street blocks. Yes, that's right. Fourteen. See, the street that I was traveling on happened to cut right across the bottom of Prospect Park, opposite to the Parade Grounds. So Friday night, 10 pm, alone, in the depths of Brooklyn... fourteen blocks. Oh, and one more problem that I think I should mention: I was the Anti-Ghetto.

I don't stick out quite as obviously as I did when I first arrived in NYC. I've learned to adapt, to blend in a bit more. But for some ironic reason, on Friday night I was the whitest that I have been in years. I was wearing a jean skirt and a black tank top with little tie-on sleeves. My hair was half-up and extremely blond. I was carrying an enormous gray purse right in front of my body that practically screamed "ROB ME!", and my sunglasses were resting neatly atop my butterfly clip. And I had on Birkenstocks (Nana, stop laughing). It took me about 5 minutes to realize that I had made a Very Serious Error. No cars. No people. Hardly any streetlights. And LOTS of benches with hooded figures sitting on them. I could have turned around, but I figured that would have attracted more attention (like that was possible) and I was still convinced that Flatbush would appear any moment. So I decided that I had better look as tough as possible so that the hooded figures would be too intimidated to come and kill me.

How To Look As Intimidating As Possible In Three Easy Steps:

1. Walk purposefully and quickly. Unless you have on a skirt, which would cause you to trip over yourself and nearly take a tumble to the ground... at which point you would stand up and use one hand to hold your skirt up as you continued to walk, sending your Whiteness Factor into the billions.

2. Fix your face in a hard stare. Unless it's 10:00 at night and there are no traffic lights, in which case your squinting would probably irritate your contact lenses, which would cause them to become blurry and threaten to pop out of your eyes, at which point you would actually CONSIDER stopping to rummage through your purse for rewetting drops, and decide instead to just blink furiously, which would completely eliminate any attempt at fixing your face in a hard stare.

3. Find anything nearby to use as a weapon. Unless you had already decided that rummaging would be a bad idea, and you begin thinking that with all of the amazing resources that you can find in your purse, you never considered adding, say, a machete to the mix... so you settle with a ballpoint pen. Armed and dangerous.

And if none of those things work, use what you have. A cell phone.

Now, fortunately, I had enough brain cells still engaged to realize that I shouldn't just open up my cell phone and start talking on it. I needed to keep all of my senses sharp, so that if I heard footsteps approaching me I could shriek like a banshee. So I decided to just OPEN my phone and keep it in my hand. My thought was that perhaps the potential attackers would see that, at any moment, I could dial 911. Of course, further thought would have led to the conclusion that if I had NEEDED to dial 911 I still would have had to punch in the numbers, push SEND, lift the phone to my ear, wait for the ring... rendering my "weapon" completely pointless. So there I am, whiter than snow, lifting up my skirt to reveal my Birkenstocks, walking alone in the utter darkness in a bad neighborhood... but don't worry. My cell phone is out.

I joke, but this part was pretty scary and the praying was pretty intense. After what seemed like years, I finally saw a sign that said "Flatbush Avenue" and I could have kissed it. I started to jog once I could see cars and people, and I got to Flatbush just in time to see two 41 buses pulling away from the corner. I then had to wait 10 more minutes on Flatbush Avenue at the bus stop, feeling slightly safer but incredibly out-of place. I called Ivy at this point and said something to the effect of "DON'T YOU EVER LET ME DO THAT AGAIN!!!!!" and just prayed that the bus would come early. Ten minutes later, a 41 pulls up and I step aboard. I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for Ivy's roommate giving me that MetroCard, because otherwise I would have been SUNK. You can't buy a MetroCard on the bus, and the only other option would be exact change. I stuck the MetroCard in the slot, and I heard the boop.

There are two possible sounds that you can hear when you insert a MetroCard. One sound is "Boop!!!:)" This sound is the higher-toned noise that indicates that your MetroCard has been accepted, that you should enjoy your ride. The other sound is boop. That sound means that something is wrong and that other passengers, by law, must begin to look up and snicker at you. However, sometimes boop happens by accident, so I tried the card again. boop. I looked at the screen and it said "Insufficient Fare." This is impossible! Ivy's roommate said there were two days left on the card! I started to panic, but then relaxed. I ALWAYS carry a ton of change around in my purse... because I needed to have quarters available for parking meters. But just that morning, I had decided to take all of the change OUT of my purse since I wasn't driving anymore! What a GREAT IDEA!! So the bus has already pulled away... I have no MetroCard and no change. I mustered up all of my feminine wiles and decided to sneak a peek at the driver, to gauge whether or not there was a chance he might let me ride for free. I took one look and received my answer, which was something to the effect of "get your wiles off of my bus."

So it was back out onto the streets of Flatbush once again. I didn't panic-- I knew that I just needed to find a subway, because then I could buy a MetroCard with my debit card. Unfortunately, I knew EXACTLY where I was at this point because I teach near that area, and I knew that the closest subway stop was at least 10 minutes away (and now those of you who know where I teach can get an indication of the type of neighborhood I was in). Finally, I decided that I was just going to try to find a non-scary-looking store and get $2.00 worth of change so that I could pay for the bus ride. It took me about 5 blocks to find a store worthy of the title "non-scary-looking." I got my change and continued walking to the next bus stop, which was at Flatbush and Empire Blvd, for those more familiar with the Brooklyn area.

At this point, all I wanted was to go home. The humor of the situation was starting to kick in, now that I had become fully aware that I had made it through the ordeal with all body parts intact... but it was still almost an hour after I had left Ivy's, and I was hungry. I stood there at the bus stop as a bunch of extremely threatening-looking individuals gathered around me to also wait for the bus. Tension is mounting and I'm holding on to my $2.00 in change a bit tighter. I started trying to intercept any other potential idiotic situations, just to make sure that this next step would be the last of the night. "Amy, do NOT drop your change into the grate. Amy, do NOT get on a bus going in the opposite direction. Amy, do NOT notice that a large number of the Threatening Looking Individuals have started to gather and snicker at you."

I continued this helpful self-talk until a bus appeared on the horizon and I nearly exploded with relief. This lasted approximately 5 seconds until I realized that this was the wrong bus. At this point, all energy was re-directed into Urge Suppression, because I was getting desperate enough to jump on the bus and force the driver to drive directly to my house and then come back and continue his route. Ten more minutes passed, and I saw a 41 bus. I didn't care whether it was local or limited... I could take either. I knew it was a 41 because I could see the sign. I checked my change-- still in the purse. I checked the bus stop-- I was going in the right direction. The Threatening Looking Individuals began to rise and congregate near the bus stop, so I knew that I was home free. Then something curious happened. All of the passengers on the 41 got up to exit the bus. "Strange," I thought. "I didn't realize that this was such a popular stop." And then I saw them. Just three little words that completely crushed any remaining hopes that I had.

Next bus please.

Note: THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE BUS LINE!! In fact, it is pretty much DIRECTLY in the middle of the line, at a stop that intersects two major streets in Brooklyn. Why on EARTH would a bus decide that its route was finished at THIS PARTICULAR STOP?!?! I never received an answer. Someone muttered something about an oil change, but there was not a gas station in sight. So now I am still waiting at Flatbush and Empire, with all of the Threatening Looking Individuals who are now ANGRY Threatening Looking Individuals because of the bus fiasco, PLUS all of the Threatening Looking Individuals who had just gotten OFF the bus which had come directly from East Flatbush, Brooklyn. By this point I had relaxed, thinking that if I was going to be killed, mugged, threatened or otherwise attacked it would have already happened. A real bus finally came and I made my way home.

I still can't quite figure out how I managed to make it through the evening without at LEAST getting mugged or propositioned. I've come up with two possible theories: 1) The Lord had mercy on this foolish girl and sent big, strong, scary-looking angels to protect me. Or 2) The potential perpetrators were so dumbfounded by the Anti-Ghetto that they could only stop and stare. Or maybe they were seriously worried about that ballpoint pen and open cell phone. Or maybe... well, I suppose it doesn't matter. The point is, praise God, I'm safe now.

Oh, and by the way... the MetroCard that Ivy's roommate gave me? Found it in my purse the minute I got home with the promised two days still remaining. See, my Etch-A-Sketch was so busy thinking about the future that I forgot about the present, and I neglected to dispose of the MetroCard that I had finished after getting on the train to Ivy's. I simply stuck it back in my wallet in my MetroCard slot. And for some reason, the MetroCard that Ivy's roommate gave me just went haphazardly into my purse. And this is what AGA is all about.

Morals of the story? Don't attempt to fix your face in a steely glare if you're wearing contacts. Always carry a ballpoint pen with you if you're walking late at night. And finally, never rely on a peanut-sized map to establish distance. Until next time... we are Foolish Things Ministries: Confounding Wisdom and Common Sense in a Neighborhood Near You! (Now I just need a theme song.)

Shower Power (July 2005)

from the Transitions Website "Thoughts of The Week"

And now it’s time for another testimony from… Foolish Things Ministries! (Confounding Wisdom and Common Sense in a Neighborhood Near You)

I feel as though I am obligated to warn anyone who will listen to be very careful what you pray for. Cause I've learned that if you pray something like: "God, send me someone that I can share the gospel with today," it's very possible that you could end up with a homeless woman in your shower.

I learned this the hard way a couple of weeks ago while walking home from prayer meeting. I was feeling a bit guilty because I realized that I hadn't really been able to witness to anyone that week, so I started talking to God as I walked home and saying, "You know, God, I have so much going on right now with work and school and all this stuff, but I feel like I haven't given any time to what's really important, and there are so many people that walk by me every day that are headed for hell. I'm still not very good at this, as You know, but... could you just send me someone that needs the gospel? I don't know... someone at my job that I could talk to, or a family member... just, you know, open a door."

Then I changed the subject and started talking about something else, but once again I think that God began to shake His head and smile. Omniscience must be pretty cool.

I finished up my chat with the Lord as I reached my block. As I was fumbling for my keys, I noticed three people, two men and a woman, sitting on the side of the street near my door. I only caught a quick glimpse of them as I walked up to my door, but they looked pretty young, maybe in their late twenties. The weird part was that when I happened to glimpse over, the woman was looking right at me and smiled. I was kinda caught off guard, so I muttered some kind of, "How ya' doin'?" and dropped my keys. Very slick. I quickly picked them up, mumbling some excuse that was totally unnecessary, and hurried inside. The first thing I thought was "... what a foolish thing to say to a homeless person. How ya' doin'. Uh, probably not very well! Yeesh."

Rolling my eyes at myself, I took about three steps up the stairs and suddenly remembered my innocent little prayer about sending me someone who needed the gospel. I stopped right there on the stairs and just stood there. It was one of those times where I knew that the next step that I took would determine my action... if I stepped forward, it was up the stairs, into the apartment, and then the coat would come off and there was no chance of venturing back into the outside world. If I turned around, it was back outside, back to the homeless people and another opportunity to embarrass myself. It was a bit humorous, because I was having this intense debate in my mind, but to any outside observer, I was just standing there for no apparent reason in the middle of the steps. And I was thinking:

Aww, MAN. Is this You, God? Did You do this? Well, I DID ask You for someone. I just... didn't think that it will be THESE someones. But, I mean, I can't go back out there NOW. I already passed them and asked them how they were doing. What possible reason would I have for going back out there now? I guess I don't really need a reason... but... now it's going to be very difficult to strike up a conversation without them immediately thinking, "There's something wrong with you." You know what? I'm probably making this up. Why do I automatically think that these people were the answer to my prayer?

Incidentally, is there a spirit of Think? If so, I think I need deliverance.

But if I go up these stairs, then I'm gonna sit up there wondering if I was supposed to do this or not. And I'd rather make the mistake and go than not go. What's the worst that can happen?

I've also learned not to ask "What's the worst that can happen?".

Finally I just said, "whatever" and dropped everything on the floor and walked out the door without a single thought in my head. It was a nice change.

I got outside and only the one woman was left. I walked up to her and asked if she was okay and if she needed anything, and she seemed very shy but finally said that she was very thirsty. My heart just broke and I couldn't believe that I was just upstairs going through mental gymnastics while this poor woman was sitting down here who just wanted a glass of water. I immediately said, "oh, no problem! I live right here, I'll just run upstairs and get you some. In fact... do you want to come upstairs while I get it?" I can't tell who was more surprised at the second half of that statement. She said, "Oh... wow, really? Um.. okay!" I helped her gather her things and as we were walking up I said, "Is there anything else that you need? Anything else that I can help you with?" Again, she was very shy but she said "um... well... it's been a really long time since I've had a shower."

I felt so bad about the fact that I almost didn't come back down that I think I would have given this woman ANYTHING that she asked for. So the next thing I know, I'm running around my apartment looking for spare towels, getting out some soap that she can use. I did manage to get her name through all of this-- Francine. So I gave Francine what she needed, and she was so incredibly grateful, and as she closed the bathroom door I said "let me know if you need anything!" The minute that door closed, all of the thought that I had left upstairs slammed into me full force, and my eyes got very large as I realized what was actually happening.

There's a homeless woman in my shower. There's a... oh... oh my GOODNESS there is a HOMELESS WOMAN IN MY SHOWER!!! What.... how... what was I THINKING? Right. I wasn't thinking. Well, NOW what do I do?? Okay, okay, don't panic. You're going to.. um.. you're going to let her finish her shower... and then... get her some water... and then... share the gospel with her! Outside!

This was very amusing to my roommates, because the shower naturally took quite a bit of time… and the more time I had to just stand there and wait, the more panicked I became. I knew that I was going to tell her about Jesus, but I work best when I don't have a lot of time to sit around and analyze. So I was listening for the water to turn off because I knew that then it was just about time for me to speak to her, but there were a few times when the water kind of diminished and then came back again. I thought I was going to have a stroke. Finally she came out and I was able to talk to her a bit about the Lord... it didn't seem like anything really stuck but she did say that she wanted to come to the church sometime.

Most of you are probably thinking one of two things (or both):
1. Wow, this is a cool story!
2. Um, don’t these “Thoughts Of The Week” usually have, like, a point?

And, in fact, I do! I have a couple of points. First and foremost, if you ask the Lord to give you opportunity to share the gospel, I can guarantee that He will. He may not do it in the way that you might have LIKED, but He’ll do it nonetheless… and He’ll do it in SPITE of you and all of your issues. Secondly, our job is not to see souls saved. Our job is to preach the gospel in obedience to the Lord and let HIM worry about the results. We might be seed planters, we might be waterers, or we might have the privilege of reaping a harvest that many other people have tended (1 Cor 3:6-7). Don’t be discouraged if you seem to make a total mess of a witnessing situation, because you have no idea what the Lord is doing in a person’s heart.

Until next time… praise God for using earthen vessels. But be careful what you pray for!

Are You From... Where? (March 2004)

The night before I went out witnessing with the Transitions Evangelism team, I was walking through the streets of Cobble Hill, panicking. It dawned on me that in less than 15 hours I would be going out into the streets of Manhattan WITHOUT hiding behind a flyer. Billions of questions were racing through my head. How will we know who to talk to? How do we open the conversation? We can’t just say, “Hello, do you know Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” Or can we? What if I say something stupid?

So I did what any other slightly neurotic born-again believer would do. I practiced talking to an imaginary person. I tried to remember everything that Kirk Cameron said (which shouldn’t have been hard since I heard his message 5 times and read 3 of his books) and told it to my imaginary sinner. It was great! I went through the Ten Commandments, the airplane analogy… I told them about how if you dust your table and then let the light in, you’ll find that it’s still dusty. I sliced through every feasible justification and rationalization that my imaginary sinner threw at me until he was on his knees, begging to receive the mercy of Christ. I was feeling pretty good for a few minutes… so good, in fact, that I thought maybe I could try it on a REAL person! After all, I was on a roll. Unfortunately, when I went into the bodega to buy some soda, I took one look at the scary man behind the counter… and didn’t even stop to count my change before I flew outta there. Back to panicking.

Despite my fears, I knew that I had to go because if I didn’t, I’d stay at home all day calling myself a loser in as many ways as possible. I calmed my fears a little bit by thinking “okay, look. There’s gonna be a lot of people there, so I can just go with somebody who knows what they’re doing. I’ll just kinda ‘shadow’ today… observe how it’s done… and then maybe next time I’ll actually go out there and say a sentence or two.”

Looking back, I am sure that God was shaking His head and chuckling.

As I went towards the church, I started getting more and more nervous and more and more skeptical that it was a good idea for me to go. I knew that sharing the gospel was a huge responsibility, and I wasn’t sure that I was ready for that yet. I stopped into the Atlantic Mall for a few minutes to buy a soda from McDonalds, because I WILL win that Monopoly game if it’s the last thing I do. As I was leaving, I walked past Bath and Body Works and a billboard caught my eye. It was a picture of a little ornament with a bear and some silver stuff on the top. Above the trinket it said “The Perfect Christmas.”

Suddenly, I was hit with a Max Lucado moment (definition: a moment when something insignificant and ordinary suddenly takes on spiritual significance). I found myself staring at the billboard and thinking…. THIS… is the perfect Christmas? This trinket? What about Christ? What about “for unto us a Child is born?” What about the God of the universe humbling Himself to become nothing, and leaving His throne of glory to be born in a pathetic manger? I got so angry at this dumb store and its dumb billboard, until I remembered… “how will they believe in the one of whom they have not heard?” My anger turned to sadness, because I realized that there were so many whose Christmases were no deeper than those worthless trinkets. And many of them had no idea that they were missing everything, and that while they were happily throwing presents into a shopping cart, their eternal souls were inching closer and closer to hell. I remember thinking to myself “you know what… even if you go out there and mess EVERYTHING up, and don’t get anyone to listen to you, and send people running away and get cursed at and rejected and humiliated… at least you spent the day doing something instead of sitting at home with your ‘trinkets.’ At least you got off your rear end and WENT.” My fears remained, but my mind was made up.

When I got to the church, I opened the door to 17 Smith and said “Oops, we must be over at the Learning Center.” There was one girl sitting in a chair and it was already past noon. Someone had mentioned that Najja was across the street at 180, so I started walking towards there and saw him running out. The first thing he said to me was, “Looks like it might just be us two!” All thoughts of bears and trinkets vanished from my mind. Urgency gone. Max Lucado moment flew away. JUST US TWO?!?!? Oh, no. That does NOT fit the plan that I had for today! This will involve SPEAKING!

God probably chuckled some more.

Well, the two became four and we went into the sanctuary. It was a pretty dismal situation we had there… four people sitting on the floor and the lights weren’t even turned on. Najja started to talk and share his testimony of the night before, and the minute he started talking I felt my faith coming back. I couldn’t believe that he chose Romans 10, because it was that same verse that had hit me back at Bath and Body Works. I found myself nodding at everything that was said, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my Max Lucado moment. I finally had to put my hand up and ask if I could share something. I told everyone about what had happened at the Atlantic Mall, and threw out some remark about this being “humble beginnings.” It’s funny when you think that you’re just rambling but God’s using those silly rambling to encourage someone else.

When we left, I have to admit, I was still fighting fear. I just don’t do well in situations where there isn’t a concrete PLAN… and our “plan” was pretty much to just go and talk. Everyone else seemed cool with this, but nothing stops my mind from turning… “okay, but WHO? How will we KNOW? Will God just beam a light down from heaven or will we hear a James Earl Jones-like voice saying ‘THIS IS THE ONE.’?” I was starting to feel squirmy, so I just closed my eyes and prayed as we rode the subway. We got to Washington Square and we started walking a little bit slower… and slower… it was almost funny, but also a little reassuring because I at least felt that I wasn’t the only one who was a bit nervous. I started to pray again, but then I just felt myself (or God) saying “okay, you know what? You already prayed. You’re scared, but courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s going and doing it DESPITE your fear. So now go and do it.” Just then, a man who was playing a game of chess notived us and called us over. I stood there and chatted for a few minutes as he asked us to play the $3 chess game, and everyone started saying “no thanks.” I started thinking “you know what… I know we’re not supposed to gamble but what if we just GAVE him $3 and then promised to play a game if then he would listen to us. Yeah! That’s a good plan!” I came out of my thoughts just to hear one of our team members saying “okay, well, thanks for your time. God bless you.” and everyone started walking away. I thought “… oh. Okay. That works too.”

Then we came to Merrill, who was a homeless man who was sitting near the statue in the park, trying to sell some jewelry that he had made. The team started talking to him. Again, I was just thinking of some way to help and bring the gospel into the conversation, but Merrill seemed to be doing fine on his own. He was quoting Scripture and basically using it to fit his own god and his own sense of spirituality. I was like “okay, Amy. THIS one is for you. You’re good at rationalizing things and explaining things logically. Find the hole in the logic, and say something.” But every time I was going to open my mouth, someone else would say something or Merrill would jump back in.

While we were talking to Merrill, a young woman named Tracy walked over and someone handed her a tract and asked if she knew Jesus. She replied, “uh, no, I’m Jewish.”

Yes! HERE we go. I can do this! Bring up the law of Moses. Tell her about Isaiah 53 and all the prophecies about Christ. Tell her that the Messiah has come! Come onnnn! Oh, wait, let’s not come on too strong. Just… say something casual to continue the conversation.

“Oh, really! Are you from there?”

Tracy looked at me. I blinked. Tracy looked at the team. The team looked at me. Finally, Tracy said “… what?” I repeated, “you know… were you BORN there?” Tracy looked at me with a look that said “I think there’s something wrong with you.” The team jumped in and translated—“she means, were you born in Israel?”

Oops. I had just asked her if she was from “Jewish.” I knew some serious damage control was needed, but fortunately I’ve had lots of experience saying foolish things. I quipped that my team only lets me out of my cage every once in a while, and made some other remark about being a little slow. Everyone laughed, Tracy relaxed and the conversation continued. I, however, had just disqualified myself.

“You idiot,” I thought. “The one time you open your mouth and you say something foolish and almost blow it for everyone else. Why are you even here? You haven’t done or said anything this whole time. God’s doing great things, yes, but you’re just taking up space.”

After we finished talking to Andre, it was even worse. Andre was a man who had recently gotten out of prison, and looked like he might have been high or on some kind of drug. He was very street-wise, and I found myself wishing for a translator. Najja, of course, was speaking back to him quite easily, and Andre was really responding. I was just listening to this person tell about all of the horrible things that have happened to him and Najja was really just earnestly telling him about Jesus, but I felt completely useless once again. And, to my shame, I allowed Satan to just infiltrate my mind and just spiral me further and further down. The team finished up and prayed for Andre, and he looked so grateful to everyone. I told the team that I was going to meet them in ten minutes, and walked away.

I was talking to God as I went along, saying “why am I so unusable? I’m willing, and I’m here, but I open my mouth and stupidity comes out. I’m thankful that You are doing such amazing things and You get all the glory… but… is it wrong that I want to be a part of it? Is it wrong that I want to be able to help, too, instead of just stand there and do nothing? If you can fill everyone else’s mouths with the right words, why can’t You fill mine?” I tried to comfort myself by remembering that it wasn’t ABOUT me… but I wasn’t upset because I wasn’t getting glory. I was upset because I felt dumb and useless to the God that I wanted to serve with all of my heart.

And then suddenly, I remembered the words that had come out of my own mouth earlier in the day: “you know what… even if you go out there and mess EVERYTHING up, and don’t get anyone to listen to you, and send people running away and get cursed at and rejected and humiliated… at least you spent the day doing something instead of sitting at home with your ‘trinkets.’ At least you got off your rear end and WENT.” And I thought… wow… I have messed some stuff up, and I didn’t get anyone to listen to me, and I almost sent poor Tracy running away, and we were cursed at AND rejected AND I was humiliated… but I’m here. I’m doing the work of the Lord. What am I gonna do—go home? To what? My trinkets? No way. So I went back.

A lot more happened that day, and I was able to speak to a few people (and the team later reminded me that I did more than I thought I did that day)… but that’s not really the point of my testimony. The point of my testimony is that it’s not about the results. It’s not about saying something stupid, it’s about going and doing it even though you know that you might say something stupid. It’s about having a testimony that isn’t perfect and shiny, but having a testimony nonetheless. It’s about messing up, and still seeing God in it, and still being willing to do it again because that’s what I’m called to. So even though I still battle with discouragement and even though all of the loose ends aren’t tied up nice and pretty… I thank God for giving me the grace to be in the race, even if I did trip a few times. The results are in His hands, not mine.

I'm NOT An Alcoholic... (July 2003)

This wasn't quite long enough to make it as an Adventure, but I thought I'd at least write it down and pass it off as an Adventurette. More things that could/would only happen to me.Today is my last day of training as a Teaching Fellow *rejoicing.* Much to my delight, I discovered another Christian in my class who attends the Brooklyn Tabernacle. This was a great relief, because most of the individuals in my class and professors in my school are quite.... um.... worldly. For example, my fellow classmates have no problem cursing in class. My teachers don't seem to really have a problem with it, and they show their lack of concern by cursing themselves. The future of America's children.

Last week, one of my classmates sent out an e-mail to us all saying, "Let's celebrate! After class Thursday we're all going to the Loki Lounge in Park Slope for Happy Hour." Amy got the email and thought "...hmm... Loki Lounge... Pastor Cymbala's Bible study... *weighs options*..." When some of my classmates asked me if I was coming, I just said "no, I can't come" and moved on. No problems whatsoever.

However, THIS week that same girl sent out another email saying "For those of you who missed it last week, never fear! We're going BACK to the Loki Lounge this Thursday to celebrate the last day of training! No homework to do-- come on out!" I, of course, had Pastor Cymbala's Bible study again, which was my "excuse." I got to class yesterday and my FA (Fellow Advisor) whom I absolutely ADORE was like "hey guys, I got your e-mail about Loki. So I thought... why not just have our last FA session AT Loki?? We're just doing discussion-type stuff anyway, so why not do it over a few drinks? First round's on me!"

*voice in Amy's head* noooooooooooooooooooooooo.......

Two things happened here. First, I was like "... yup, I'm gonna have to say something. Not going to a bar. Gonna have to make it an issue. REALLY don't want to make it an issue... but issue it is. MAN!" Second, I was like "hey that was kinda cool. As soon as Michelle said that we were going to Loki I immediately felt 'I'm not going.' That wouldn't have happened a couple of years ago. YAY HOLY SPIRIT! I love it when little things like that happen to me that remind me I'm really a Christian." ;-)

So after class, I asked Michelle if I could talk to her privately for a second. Note: Michelle is probably one of my favorite non-Christians in the entire world. Don't know why-- just love her to death. She was all set to come to the BTC concert last Sunday, but a family emergency came up. Satan, you're a jerk. Anyway, I went to talk to her, inwardly sighing "here comes the issue," and then I thought "hey, this is a great way to witness to her!! She knows that I'm at BT... maybe she'll put two and two together and realize that this is because of God that I'm not going! Woo hoo! Action witnessing!"

So I said "Michelle... I'm not comfortable going to a bar. I know it's part of our class and that I'm required to be there, but I just won't go to a bar." And she put her hands over her mouth and said "Oh my god, Amy, I'm SO SORRY. I TOTALLY meant to send out an email asking if anyone had a problem with this idea to email me privately, and I forgot... oh my god, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

I'm like "... dude. Either she's feeling convicted right now or else she just really has a lot of respect for my beliefs! Regardless, this is great!" I said "no, no, it's okay-- I'm not mad! I just wanted to know what I should do." Michelle said, "Don't come. It's totally fine, you won't be penalized, just don't come. Not a problem AT ALL. Amy, I'm so totally sorry." I'm like, "wow, God! You just really put it on her heart to understand-- thank You!!" Michelle said, "look, you don't have to explain anything to me at all. My sister goes to AA meetings, so I know that some people just can't enter into that kind of environment."

Amy: "...............hrumoaijoad?"

Michelle: "Seriously, I understand. Sometimes my fiancé yells at me if I take her anywhere NEAR a bar... I just wanted you to know that it's really totally cool."

*little voice inside* FIX IT!!!! FIX IT!!!! SHE THINKS YOU'RE AN ALCOHOLIC!!!! FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIX!!!!!!!!

TOTALLY SPEECHLESS. She left, profusely apologizing again, and I was left standing there in the middle of the hallway with my mouth open. Nicole (the other Christian in my class) came up to me and said "um, what are you doing?" I responded, "Michelle thinks I'm an alcoholic." Nicole almost peed herself laughing.

That's all, folks.

Under The Influence (June 2003)

well, i'm sure you've all been breathless with anticipation over the results of amy's latest potentially humorous situation-- the removal of her wisdom teeth. and, i'll admit, i did not disappoint. humor is abundant. but before i delve into an elaborate narrative of the depths of my knack for chaos, i have to preface with some seriousness. cause God most certainly showed me His abundant mercy this past weekend and i'd be cheating Him not to testify to it.

as probably all of you know, i was NOT looking forward to this surgery. what most of you probably DON'T know is the EXTENT to which i was not looking forward to the surgery. i have this amazing ability to dwell on things and worry about them for extended periods of time. this surgery has been put off four times since last summer, when i was INITIALLY supposed to have it done. i'll tell you this much... when i first looked at the xray of my wisdom teeth, i screamed. yes, out loud. i could not even IMAGINE how the dentist was going to remove those and how i was going to survive it. i got in the car and cried and thus beganeth the panicking.

i spent the year praying about these wisdom teeth. i prayed for everything under the sun... first i prayed that God would just supernaturally remove them so that when i went back the dentist would be totally shocked and God would get the glory. did that until i checked my motives :-\ now, i can tolerate pain. nobody LIKES pain, but i have a pretty high pain tolerance. but what i do not like is medication. why? well, primarily because i don't like ingesting substances that alter the natural processes of my body. aspirin, tynenol, motrin-- whatever. no problem. but when my oral surgeon started talking about "tylenol with codeine" i said ".....excuse me, WHAT?!?!?!?!?!" right. seriousness. testifying. sorry.

see why i could never be a preacher? we'd be at church till midnight waiting for me to finish my 60th tangent.

the point is that i was scared. scared of the anaesthesia (knowing what i feel about medication... imagine what i felt about being injected with a substance that will render me unconscious), scared of the pain, scared of the medication i would have to take FOR the pain, which the doctor comfortingly reassured me that only had a 50% chance of making me throw up. big scared ugly mess = amy. so why do i say that God showed His abundant mercy, besides the fact that His mercies are indeed new every morning? well, to start, He should have struck me dead for being afraid in the FIRST place. how many times does the Bible say "fear not"? how many times in the past had God come through when i was afraid of something just to prove to me "see, Amy? you don't need to be afraid!" but amy doesn't learn lessons very well :-\ i try. but i guess i've just got a long way to go.

when i left to go on the train home, my friends nadia and najja were with me cause we had come from church and naj had helped bring my bags with me to the station. can't TELL you how much i wanted to, like, "accidentally" miss the train and have to postpone the surgery. they left and every fiber of my being wanted to be going with them. it didn't HELP that they kept BANGING ON THE WINDOWS OF THE TRAIN (yes, in public), shrieking "amy!!!!!!! don't leave!!!!!!!!!" but i was still afraid, went home, still afraid, went to bed, trying not to be afraid. i was praying, but i was still afraid. but when i woke up the next morning, i was chill as a cucumber. had two brief moments of panic while at the doctor's office, but both passed quickly. and i remained chill. so God, once again, gave me everything that i didn't deserve and kept me from what i did deserve. and i'm very grateful.

i'll try to keep the humor part brief, cause i'm tired and this email is long enough already. this CERTAINLY isn't good enough to be classified as one of "Amy's Great Adventures," but it's a least a miniature version. i was armed and dangerous with my mp3 player and Christian music mix as i walked into the dentists chair.

can i just take this moment to say that i truly believe that dentists are, as a whole, masochistic? meaning that i am persuaded that they do EVERYTHING POSSIBLE to make you uncomfortable when you're sitting in that armchair waiting for the torture to begin. i can't seem to ever sit still, so i'm swiveling around in the dentist's chair trying to amuse myself before the procedure. *swivel* first i noticed the forbidden xray of my teeth proudly displayed on the back wall. *swivel* then i noticed a series of needles staring ominously at me "hidden" under a TRANSPARENT piece of material. *swivel* then i noticed a big machine with lots of clamps and monitors that was emitting a rhythmic beeping noise over and over that, if properly used, could probably make the hardest of criminals confess to anything. *swivel* then i saw a large drill on the back table. *swivel* then i saw more needles *swivel* machines *swivel* tools *swivel* beeping *swivel* xrays *swivel* I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MOOOOOOOOOORE!!!

*nurse enters*
Nurse (brightly): Hi Amy!
Amy: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!Nurse (brightly): Can I take your coat?

Things got better from there because I realized that half of those instruments were not for me. Ha ha! Fun for all. The procedure finally got underway and the doctor told me he was going to give me some laughing gas before giving me the anaesthesia. This was a very exciting concept, being that I enjoy laughing. He stuck a mask over my face and I continue to breathe as he hooked all these machines up to me that would monitor my heart rate and other such things while I was asleep. Slightly nerve-wracking, but I was okay. Right before he was about to put the IV in, I inquired of the doctor "should I be laughing yet?" The doctor tried to explain that it wasn't actually supposed to make you laugh... just to relax you... but he was already putting in the IV and that's when it just got cool.

Now, I am very strongly against all kinds of illegal drugs. I would never, ever in my life touch or try such things. But I say with all seriousness that I now COMPLETELY understand why people do. If anyone knows what kind of substances are actually IN anaesthesia, I beg you never to tell me. Because if I knew, I would probably spend the rest of my life on my knees in repentence. All I knew was that the minute the IV came in, I felt a vague spinning sensation and I said (yes, out loud), "Whooo!" The doctor chuckled and said "Yup, that's the anaesthesia." I remember feeling like I was going through this bizarro maze of colors (I am so serious) and I remembered hearing the voices of the doctors every once in a while... I FELT like I was "still awake" but I was just having my own personal lazer light show. The next thing I know, the colors start to go away and I was VERY disappointed. I believe I said something to the effect of "Hey, come back!" as was told to me later by my mother, who impishly decided to write down everything that I said while under the effects of the anaesthesia. Then I heard the doctors say "How are you doing, Amy?" and I gave them a thumbs up. Then I began to speak. Mistake #1. Here is a sampling of some of the things that I said:

1. THAT.... was.... SO...... COOL.
2. Are you there? (to no one)
3. Stuff is heavy!
4. Wow.... that was cool.
5. Don't move.... shhhh.... shhhh.... *silence for two minutes*
6. Take a picture! (editor's note: i refuse to believe that I said this. not until i actually see the developed film)
7. *rolls up sleeve and discovers that there was a bandaid over the spot where the IV went in* *loudly* HEY, COOOOL!!!!

There were probably more, but I don't have the official list that my mom wrote-- I'm just going from what she told me last night. So I got home and in the car I began to tell my mom about recording with the BT choir. I finished talking. Five minutes later I began to tell her the EXACT SAME STORY. My mother patiently listened and then said "Do you realize that you just told me the exact same story twice in ten minutes?" The effects of the anesthesia wore off real quick-- apparently it's supposed to make you tired. But the minute I got home I was wide awake and anxious to begin taking the painkillers. The narcotics, excuse me. I asked the dentist about 17 times "are you SURE I have to take these??? can't I just take a million motrin?" And the dentist replied "not unless you want to be in excruciating, agonizing pain." So narcotics it was. I prayed over my medication *sheepish grin*, took it, and the first two doses were great. No problems, no side effects, slight tiredness but that's it. Until I took dose #3.

For a brief moment, I thought I might die. I was standing at the sink and all of a sudden my entire body got VERY very heavy and dizziness set in. I said ".... uhoh." and crawled over to the couch and huddled in a little ball while commanding the room to stop spinning. Fortunately I fell asleep and upon waking up, the room had returned to its normal state. And then I decided that that was the END of the narcotics. So I switched to Motrin and had to deal with some pain, but better that than whatEVER was going through my system earlier. Now I'm chillin... stopped taking Motrin yesterday morning so I've been off painkillers for a day. I am strong *dun dun* I am invincible *dun dun* I am.... tired. Hence the end of my story. Tune in next time to hear what happens when Amy shows up to Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir recording tonight looking like I'm storing nuts in my cheeks.