YSF | The Biggest Show 2014

Another weekend. Another LA trip. Life is pretty good.

It was time for this year's Biggest Show with YSF, and if you remember from last year, it's a crazy-fun evening. (It's crazy, it's fun, and it's crazy-fun)

Last October, the YSF Biggest Show was our first real excursion into the world of L.A., which, to quote a smart man is "a strange place full of strange people acting strangely." We had been up and down to that area quite a few times already that Fall, but this trip was especially awesome, but also immensely nerve-wracking.

We had never been to the building, so we could very well get lost (we have a joke that half our travel time is getting to the area and the other half is overshooting our destination & trying to turn around. Repeatedly.)

We had never met the Executive Director of the program, so we could very well make idiots of ourselves and then live in undying embarrassment. There were a lot of things involved that were entirely new and induced some pretty intense nervousness because we actually cared about this program and what the people involved thought of us. When the cause is awesome, the volunteers tend to be awesome, and you want awesome people to think well of you.

This year wasn't nearly as frightening. We had attended this event before, even attended other YSF functions (both big and biggest), and we more-or-less know our way around Santa Monica now. Also, the doctor has me on this daily preventative migraine medication that seems to make me really mellow and chill whenever I would normally get nervous and stressed. It really is an odd phenomenon, but no one is complaining.

Scene opens, Saturday afternoon:

First stop was the St. Monica's coffee shop, Holy Grounds, since we reached the area before our hotel check-in time. We had intended to stop in the church as well, but we altered our plan when we saw that there was a wedding occurring soon. And not just any wedding, but a huge wedding. We counted a dozen bridesmaids. There were a modest number of flower girls (only two), but there were three ring-bearers. What do you do with three ring bearers??? But I digress.

Off to the hotel we popped and rather than checking into our room at the front desk in the lobby, we were shuffled into the underground parking garage-level elevator room. Apparently, the first floor is undergoing renovations, so the elevator room has been retrofitted to be the front lobby. I use "retrofitted" loosely here... it was more like barely fitting a large desk into the small space, along with about ten people and a luggage rack dolly.

After taking a tour of several floors by way of misdirection and mislabeled keys, we got to our room and settled into our little space. I always am most comfortable sitting on the floor, which is usually great, but this floor was a freshly cleaned carpet. My leggings and rear ended up being pretty darn wet and cold. But none of these small inconveniences - which are really just components of life's comedy - could dampen the mood (haha... dampen... no pun intended, but it's kinda funny) or lessen the excitement. We assembled ourselves for our crazy-fun evening!

Master Bill gave us the most fantastic seats for this show. In all seriousness, this man is incredible and so good to everyone. I really cannot say enough good things about Bill Thompson, so I'm not even going to try. He's got as much star-power as any celebrity... but more on that later.

Oh, also, let me apologize in advance for the poor quality of these photos. Last year I brought a high-quality point-and-shoot, but since my photography hardware has been upgraded to a massive DSLR, I elected to enjoy myself and not kill my shoulder by lugging it around all weekend. My iPhone is a 4S, which I refuse to upgrade until it ceases to function, and its camera is anything but stellar. I tried to capture a bit of the spirit through the little lens, but I am not laboring under the delusion that the product is any good. 

the writers casting their scripts with A-list actors

she is remarkably calm for someone who just had her wedding dress ruined by mud splattered by her fiance's car

cow man and his hired hand, who is busy nailing nails in a cow fence

One of my favorite things about Max Greenfield's performance in YSF shows is that when he narrates, he continually busts up laughing. He has enough professionalism and experience to get through his lines without laughing, but everyone else's performances leave him in stitches. It's a treat and a pleasure to witness.

Again, I apologize for the lack of image quality, but his face really is the best. He is really just the best. (more on that later)

what those men on the right are doing is not as weird as it looks

but again, Max's face

 The following photo features three cows and three pigs. Such good looking livestock.

I'm not sure that the explanation will make this next photo better, but here it goes: Cow man is racing Pork Chop Zoe (?), with the former riding one of his own cows and the latter riding one of his own pigs. The prize is that if Cow Man wins, then Pork Chop Zoe has to share some of his pigs with Cow Man so he can feed the poor people of the town who are tired of eating cows. Yeah. Not sure that's helping. But that's what the kid wrote.

In a dramatic twist, Pork Chop Zoe's pig veered off course and jumped into a mud puddle, which turned out to be quicksand.

This allows Cow Man to take the lead and have a chance at winning the race, but at the cost of his brother drowning in the quicksand.

But no matter the livestock needs of the people, you can't leave a brother behind.  You must go back and rescue him and his pig from the quicksand. Out of gratitude, Pork Chop Zoe comes to the realization that sharing is better.

It's almost a happy ending, but then the people want chicken. You can't win 'em all, I guess.

In our next tale, these four girls (yes, John Cho was a girl for this one. What a sport!), while having a slumber party, decide to form a dance team to become cool, popular, and accepted. Oh, and it will be fun, too.

 

They dance it out to celebrate. A one, a two, a one, two, three, four!

They rush off to the local dance school, where they are utterly & completely rejected.

They ask another friend to join them. She knows how to tap dance and offers to help them learn. Then they have a chance of being accepted at the dance school as a group of five people with actual skills.

 The script calls for tap dancing, so a man has gotta tap dance!

They finally achieve acceptance and celebrate by hugging in great joy. The dance studio owner is also corralled into the hug.

After the show, we had a chance to meet both the writers and the actors. Last year, I was incredibly excited about the promise of meeting this man --

 

-- only to be disappointed by fate. I think it was probably a good thing that I didn't meet him last year, though. I think I would have freaked him out with my enthusiasm. This year, with the gained experience and extra year of maturity, I was incredibly calm and understated (well, for me) when meeting him. Here's the blow-by-blow account of how it went down:

1. Bridget stands awkwardly in the middle of a very crowded, very dark room. (seriously, why are VIP rooms always so stinking dark? You can't see anything so you keep stepping on/running into people, who may also be important people. It's the worst idea ever.)

2. Bridget spots Max a few feet away, standing alone, looking around the room, but also looking very lost and uncomfortable.

3. Bridget approaches Max, makes eye contact when about five feet away (miraculously, no one was standing in those five feet, so she's able to initiate contact without invading his personable bubble). She smiles, does a funny jazz-hands thing and says, "Hi, may I fan-girl about your for a minute?" Max smiles, imitates the jazz-hands, and says "Ok!" in a sort of high-pitched, goofy voice. Oh, he was imitating my voice? That makes sense.

4. Bridget maintains a distance of about three feet from Max, so he won't feel cornered and uncomfortable. She speaks to him for a few minutes, expressing appreciation for his work and thanks for his presence here... well, she tells him she's a big fan and that she's so happy he is here for the students.

5. Max thanks Bridget, and calmly, but rather shyly, that he is happy to be here and that he thinks YSF is a great program. He tells Bridget that, "As long as they keep having these events, I will be here! I am so happy they invited me back." (Hear that, Bill? He wants to keep coming back.)

6. Bridget again expresses what a pleasure it is to meet him and that she hopes he has had a wonderful evening and has a great night. Nods and smiles are exchanged as Bridget and Max part ways.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I met Max Greenfield. With an exchange of jazz hands. That's one for the memory banks.

I am going to take this time to point out that there are rules for approaching your celebrity: 1) Always allow your celebrity to have an easy escape route. 2) Don't assume they want a photo with you. 3) Be polite and mature, not ridiculous and inane. 4) Don't touch them. If they initiate a hug or a handshake, reciprocate in kind, but don't make the first move. 5) Make contact, share your appreciation for their work, allow them to respond, and then read the situation. If they seem interested in continuing the conversation, continue with it, but again, calmly and maturely. If they seem uncomfortable, initiate separation.

But since I'm Bridget, I could not possibly have gotten away from this big event without embarrassing myself somehow. After I left the VIP room (just when I think I'm safe from myself), I leaned up against a wall, pulled my phone and an apple from my purse, and set about munching on the apple (hypoglycemia, ftw!) while posting a couple of photos from the evening on Instagram.

Right after I took a huge bite of apple, which led to a big squirt of juice dripping down my chin, that I was absently trying to clean off with the back of my hand, I heard approaching footsteps. I looked up and who did I see walking towards me, witnessing my messy apple-eating? Max Greenfield. Yeah. I was standing there, probably looking like the ultimate slob, leaning on a wall, mouth stuffed with apple, and this guy, who I had just managed to meet without embarrassing myself, witnesses it all.

Then he wiggled his eyebrows at me, not saying a word. I wiggled my eyebrows right back at him. He continued past me and out the door.

Then the universe was satisfied. I had met my embarrassment quota for the evening. But at least I got an eyebrow-wiggle exchange with Max Greenfield out of the scene.

But meeting Max and the subsequent embarrassing scene is not the only thing worth mentioning about that night. There are a couple of other things, too. 

First, did you note how easy it was for me to get a minute to meet Max? There was no mob of people surrounding him, all waiting for a chance to talk to the great Max Greenfield. That didn't surprise me too much, since this event has a lot of important people at it and both they and the slightly less important people who are there with them are mature enough to act like civilized adults. The social atmosphere there is pretty similar to any other sorta awkward and large mingling party. The exception to general attitude was the attention paid to Bill Thompson, the above-mentioned wonderful man. He had celebrity status that night. There was an almost-line to say hello to him. Everyone wanted to congratulate him on a great night, say hello, and visit with the man. Me, my sister, and another friend of Bill's - Greg, a man I met at the last YSF event and discovered him to be a smart, considerate gentleman - had to "make a move" and sorta elbow our way through to Bill just to tell him thank you and briefly exchange the standard friendly niceties. 

I do not say any of this to complain or gripe. Quite the contrary, really - I am happy to see such a wonderful guy get the appreciation he deserves! He works hard as the Executive Director of YSF and is the kindest, most thoughtful, well-spoken, and gracious man I have ever met. He always knows exactly what to say to put you at ease and is completely sincere in his concern for others. As Greg said, "He has found his bliss." I wish him all the success and nice things, both in this world and the next! (yes, I'm showing my Catholic colors again, haha!)

The other moment worthy of mention was that I had a chance to meet Rob Corddry. He is a man of great talents, who also understands the importance of presentation. When introducing himself to the young writers, telling them his name and a special talent he possessed, he quipped, "My name is Rob and I know how to dress like an adult." Indeed, he does. On Saturday evening, he was wearing a crisp white shirt, tucked into dark wash jeans (not skinny jeans like some fashionisto), completing the outfit with a sharp blazer, even including a pocket square. The man has class and I had the opportunity to meet him and tell him so. I appreciate a well-dressed man, I said. The art of presentation and putting effort into one's appearance is undervalued, he said. I agree wholeheartedly, sir, I said. We shook hands, smiled, exchanged names and mutual appreciation for the others' presence and went our separate ways.

Curtain closes on scene.

Curtain opens on scene. Sunday morning, St. Monica's Catholic Church. Mass was wonderful. The choir sounded lovely, the priest gave a solid homily, and it was a soothing, peaceful, prayerful experience. My one consistent take away after attending Mass at that parish is "why aren't there this many young, good looking, and apparently single men at my parish?" It simply isn't fair.

I say this in jest.

Mostly.

Oh, Los Angeles. It's a city where, when you see that you don't have to exit a freeway for six miles, you don't really pay attention to road signs until twenty or thirty minutes have passed. This is a consistently safe way to operate... except when traffic is moving at the speed limit. When this miracle occurs, you will have overshot your exit by about six miles by the time you even start looking for it. Yep. That definitely happened.

Until next time, L.A.

End of act.

Play Dirty, Live Well

The aim of a storyteller is to draw you into his story so that each character becomes a real person or, at least, a believable person. Some storytellers do this so well that you may find yourself having a visceral reaction to the choices & actions or a character, and the consequences of those things affect you in a real way. The storytelling is not restricted to the writer of a story; it is the art of an actor to give a human identity - a soul, a believable life - to the character.

How do they decide what characters they want to bring to life? Is it dangerous to play a corrupt, bad, or just plain evil person? Can an actor go too far, get too involved in imitating the life driven by immorality? Is there subjective value - that is, is it good for the individual actor - in playing a bad guy?

I am inclined to say yes, there is subjective value in the portrayal of a villainous character for an actor. This is a theory, based off of what I have learned from a gentleman in the industry, Mr. Ben McKenzie, watching him portray men with complicated stories, most of whom seem to be sliding down the slippery slope of immorality. To my mind, he could have two motivations for this: the first is that he could simply take delight in tormenting me with his sad, wounded, tragical facial expressions. The other is that he thinks it's contributing a good to the world, thereby benefiting himself and me (and the other millions of viewers who tuned in to The O.C., SouthLAnd, and now Gotham). I like to think of myself as a reasonable person, so I have to believe that he does this for the latter reason; no reasonable person would shape their entire career and life just to torment someone that they've never met. Nor is Mr. McKenzie a mere reasonable person - he's pretty gosh darn bright. So he must have smart reasons, which I am trying to guess and convey... or I am just projecting my own rationale on the good monsieur. Either way, here's the stuff:

An actor's craft, as above stated, is to bring a writer's character to life and to tell the writer's story through that character. One would like to think that an actor puts a bit of himself into a role, especially when portraying a hero. We'd like to think that the courage, justice, mercy, etc., of a hero are brought to life because of the virtue of an actor.

We like to think that, but it simply cannot be true. Sure, some actors are truly good people who play truly good characters, but the majority are just as morally flawed and challenged as a man you meet in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. As an audience member, however, mixing up reality and fiction concerning the man behind the mask of acting is not terribly dangerous. If we believe Chris Evans is truly as wonderful as Captain America (yes, I like Capt America. He's the best), that will likely lead us down the path of cultivating our own virtue, imitating him. As the viewer, what matters is the story. Who we believe an actor to be is not really important.

Along the same lines, one might think that an actor who portrays such virtue would also learn to cultivate virtue in his own life... but I don't think that's a necessary conclusion. I hadn't thought about it until I noticed with what determination Mr. McKenzie pursues a career full of good-boy-gone-bad characters. He also seems to be pursuing the normal life of a stand-up guy. So what is a good man doing portraying such morally conflicted characters? I think it's a way in which he keeps his moral compass straight. It could for him a subjectively beneficial decision.

Since Gotham is the currently airing show, let's take a look at Mr. McKenzie's Jim Gordon.

Here's what we know about Jim in the pilot episode: war veteran, boyscout-like hero, new detective, fiance to one Barbara Kean.

Here's what we know about Jim now, five episodes later: still a war veteran, has heroic tendencies, but a liar, secretive, not-so-fresh-and-new detective. Oh, also no longer affianced to Barbara.

Jim's character arc in the five hours of television we have seen thus far is, to put it bluntly, on a bleak trajectory. Jim is facing an impossible task: saving Gotham. It is a city corrupted from the bottom to the top, every conspiracy wrapped in another conspiracy, danger in every alley, help from bribed prostitutes, but not from police, and an ever darker whirlpool of lies, manipulation, and threats. Every villain is a vigilante who is fighting for justice outside of the justice system that is riddled with injustice.

What is a cop supposed to do with that?

#GoodGordon, as I've taken to hashtagging this character, started out with a black and white system of morality. One might argue, but I don't think prove, that his morality was almost scrupulously strict. Slowly, but surely, and oh-so-reminiscent of the infamous #BadBen Sherman, Jim is muddying his white paint by dipping his brush into the black. It is all in an effort to preserve any goodness left in the city of Gotham, but to continue with the paint analogy, his whole world is being tinged darker and darker shades of grey. There are questions that Jim now has to answer and decisions he must make. And from the consternation of his forehead wrinkle, I don't think he's happy about it. (Mr. McKenzie really does have the best facial expressions.)

That clearly delineated separation of right from wrong has been obscured for #GoodGordon. He is already caught between a rock and hard place and a Penguin and a Falcone and a Fish and a Maroney and a sour-puss partner and it's only going to get worse.

So, you ask, why would this be a good thing for Ben McKenzie? I'll tell you.

For a man with faith in an all-good, all-loving God, the moral life is tough. He can do pretty well most of the time, but he will always stop doing well and do pretty gosh darn terribly at various points. What a man of faith has, even from the lowness and darkness of sin where he finds himself, is an objective standard of goodness to strive for. He recognizes that this objective goodness is not set by his own being, never tarnished by his own failures, but is a Being that is Good. The faithful man's goal, Who is an inimitable Good, never wavers, never changes, never lessens in goodness, but always invites us to approach Him.

For those who don't have a God in whom they can trust and believe, the moral life can be a pretty lonely road. A man without religion or faith in a higher, overseeing, beneficent Being who created us, saved us, and loves us, will be challenged to keep his moral compass pointing in any direction with consistency. Without an objective standard, outside of oneself, one's morality may shift and change drastically throughout one's life. A man without faith in God would not seek out and depend on a Being who is Good. For this man, his morality is self-determined (though we know any goodness and righteousness in that self-determination is simply an unrecognized & abundant gift from God).

So when you are responsible for the steadiness of your own moral compass, what do you do? How can you help yourself be a better person, especially when you live and work in Hollywood land where you pretend to be someone other than yourself for a living?

The simplest solution, but one that I've come to realize is not risk-free: play the good guy. By accepting roles in which you imitate virtuous actions, you could potentially learn the habits of virtue. You would imitate a man who is challenged and possibly tempted to immorality, but he overcomes the difficulty and goodness triumphs over all!

But here's the risk: our human capacity for pride.

If you play a good man, a "perfect man", would you not be tempted to think of yourself as that man? If he closely resembles who you want to be, could you not easily slip into a mindset of complacency? If I were to be portray the heroine in a story who exhibited compassion, intelligence, and strength, I would be sorely tempted to start attributing that compassion, intelligence, and strength to my real person. Think about it: if you saw something as desirable, saw "yourself" doing the desirable thing, you would conclude that you did that desirable thing, in fact. You brought those qualities to the character because you have those qualities in your own character. You could paint your own person to be quite the heroine, of whom the fictional character is only an imitation. Instead of growing in virtue through imitating virtue, you could very well find yourself growing in the vice of pride... for good qualities you don't even really have. Subjectively, playing clean could lead to living dirty.

So what happens if you elect to play the bad guy? By simple solution logic, one would suppose that by imitating evil actions, one could easily become evil. But I don't think that's a high-risk game. Let me illustrate with a metaphor involving Ben McKenzie and paint. 

A good man, but morally flawed and challenged as all men are, Ben McKenzie portrays Jim Gordon, who starts his journey as a morally upright Jim Gordon.

1. Ben McKenzie uses white paint to portray the character of Jim Gordon.

2.  Ben McKenzie starts painting his Jim with mostly white paint, but deliberately adds some black, that is easily recognized as black, which muddles the character's glossy white sheen with the drabness of grey. It is deliberate, careful, and small step off the road of squeaky clean morality. 

3. Ben McKenzie incrementally increases the amount of black used in his portrait of Jim, adding shadows and obscuring details, leading to a generally darker moral landscape. Again, it is careful, thoughtful, and very deliberate.

4. Ben McKenzie takes gobs and gobs of black paint and liberally pours it onto his portrait of Jim, making it a sad, sad puddle of black, wet, and depressing paint. Sob, sob, sob.

5. Ben McKenzie is, at last, granted a show that runs long enough to follow the character in to the pit of despair and back out to the world of sunshine, goodness, and hope. Please, television executives, don't leave Jim where you left #BadBen: hanging out in the world of dark, dirty, and seemingly hopeless immorality.

Assuming that Mr. McKenzie starts out this journey as Jim Gordon with his own personal moral compass steadily pointing toward goodness and truth, but not immovably righteous, he may safely proceed to portray this dark path. As Gotham's story unfolds, Mr. McKenzie may deliberately and knowingly twist and turn his Gordon in to the world of moral ambiguity and compromise. Through this intentional destruction of Jim Gordon's black & white morality, he could very well be subjectively benefiting his own soul. With every bad decision and compromise Jim makes, we have an example of the path we shouldn't choose... and can thereby more clearly see the path we should choose. If done correctly and intelligently (which I fully trust him to do), Mr. McKenzie is in no danger of losing his own morality alongside Jim, but rather, by an accurate portrayal of human failure, might actually strengthen his own personal virtue. That sounds subjectively beneficial.

By drawing detailed portraits of good guys who have gone wrong, Mr. McKenzie is drawing himself a map of morality. Each character has good intentions, but always finds a way to begin sliding down the slippery slope into immorality or, sometimes, amorality. But what one can know with certainty is that he is an artist, drawing a picture so unlike himself that he can never confuse his own identity with that of his subject.

A good guy is sketching his path, and possibly a path for others to follow, by highlighting the darkness. He is aligning his moral compass by exploring immorality through characters in his storytelling. His craft of acting could be construed as an extreme version of learning from others' mistakes.

It's a bold move, not risk-free, but I think it will work for Ben McKenzie. I believe that he is smart enough to do this the right way and that he might even be smart enough to help others by this unconventional method. Like Aristotle, he is exploring the world in which we live, where:

-->

"It is nevertheless hard sometimes to determine what should be chosen at what cost, and what should be endured for what gain; and harder still to stand by our decisions."

I know...

A lot of words, a lot of thoughts that I'm imagining to belong to a person I have never met, nor am ever likely to meet. But it's the only sense I can make of his decisions as a good man (and I have it on very good authority that he is, in fact, a good man).

A lot of words, a lot of thoughts in which my smarter friends might find hundreds of illogical and fallacious assumptions and conclusions. I apologize if I (inadvertently) uttered falsehoods and injured your intelligence. Just learn from my mistakes if, in fact, I have made a mistake. :)

Lightening It Up

The past couple, few, several posts have been very serious, solemn, and emotionally charged. They make me seem so... I dunno... serious. I don't take myself that seriously. I spend 98% of my life laughing at myself and the stupid things I do or say. So this post is going to be a little-list-like update on what's been going on in my life, which isn't as solemn or well-thought out as recent blog posts might indicate.

So...

* Current TV crush? Well, I'm glad you asked. He is the man who established my irrevocable crush on & love of all British men. I met him as Horatio Hornblower, but now he's on my television weekly as Dr. Henry Morgan in "Forever." Ioan Gruffudd is a Welshman who has had my heart for 15 years now. Everybody, swoon with me.

* Agents of SHIELD is back on my television. Super fun, super good, super super duper awesome! Skye's bangs and Ward's beard have their own twitter pages now, so that's a thing. Tuesdays at 8, people! The must-see part of this season though has been the stellar performance of Iain DeCaestecker as Fitz. Every scene with him makes me cry. That actor delivers the emotional punch in every. single. scene.

* I know I'm on a television kick here, but there's just one more that I have to mention. That's it, I promise. What is this must-mention show? Gotham. I wasn't totally on board after the pilot episode, but BEN McKENZIE. Episode 2 was solid and in episode 3 they really hit their stride. And their stride? It's fantastic & awesome. It's a quirky show, pretty dark for an eight o'clock time slot, but incredibly comic-book like, so that makes it somehow more ok...? I think. Still dark, not good for small children, but a fun ride. I'm excited to see where they take it!

* My children will have to eat apples with the skin on. Or, I will have to only use really dull knives. I was babysitting on Saturday and the kids wanted apple slices with the skin peeled off. We don't have sharp knives at my house home, so when I used a knife there that sliced right through my own skin at the lightest pressure, I was a bit shocked. There was a bit of blood, but mostly shock & the realization that my future children will only eat apples with the skin on them or their mum will have some serious cumulative blood loss.

* Speaking of children, one of my besties is having a baby in April. I haven't stopped being giddy about that yet. I love it when my friends have babies and right now everybody is having babies, so I have so many reasons to be happy.

* Aaaaand on the topic of being happy, I had another excellent surprise yesterday when I got to see my wonderful, fantastic, awesome physical therapist from 10 years ago. It was so wonderful to see her and have the chance to catch up! Since I'm all old now (being an adult has its privileges), we can be friends! It is going to be great.

* Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off" is the perfect song for chicken dancing. That is all.

* You know you're an adult when you happily eat nonfat yogurt for dessert. Weirdly, sadly true.

* I've been baking a lot of squash. A lot of squash. Who knew it could be so much fun? It really is that much fun. Baking it in chunks, roasting it with garlic, mashing it with brown sugar, baking it with oatmeal... the possibilities are seemingly endless! And perfectly delicious.

Happy Monday, guys.

Just Keep Giving

Today started off covered in a deliciously thick layer of fog. After weeks and months of sun and hot and hotter weather, it is incredibly exciting to pull on leggings and boots with your Sunday dress and (indispensable to all Catholic girls) cardigan.

A couple of days ago, I started writing a blog post inspired by this beautiful gem of a quote from the only & only Ann Voskamp:

I stared at the blinking cursor for fifteen minutes without typing anything. I thought I could shake my writer's block by eating lunch, keeping the browser window up, but neither time nor food gave me the push to write.

Now I know why: today's psalm at Mass was waiting for me, ready to lend God's Word & inspiration to my little thoughts. I don't know that this will make them big thoughts, but it will make them better thoughts... that's what He does. He makes all things good.

~~~

Indulge me for a moment while I use a ridiculous example. 


Imagine buying your best friend tickets to Disneyland every weekend for the rest of his life. It would drain your pockets, quite probably put you in debt. But you do it anyway because you love him that enormously. Your gift is a sign and reciprocation of his gift of friendship.

But what does Jesus tell us about helping our friends, lending them money, possessions, or even our time? That it doesn't amount to generosity. That isn't a virtue. We are only generous when we give without thought of a return.

What would you do if this same Disneyland-going friend had betrayed you, insulted you, and left you without looking back?

In a virtuous love, a Christ-like love, we would continue gifting that friend with Disneyland tickets. Why? Because we bought those tickets as a gift of friendship, a free expression of our love for the other person. A sign of our unconditional love.

We have to invest ourselves without expecting a profit. He wants us to be a one-way street of giving.

Sound ridiculous? A bit.

Sound familiar? It should. All Christ is asking us to do is love others the same way He loves us.

And He gifted us with His love by giving His own self. We had given Him nothing. We had insulted Him, disobeyed Him, disappointed Him, abandoned Him. Without waiting for us to merit His favor, earn His trust, or even repent adequately, He gave us everything.

He didn't wait for us to promise, to guarantee that we would love Him back. He owed us nothing; we owed Him everything. But rather than demanding that we pay our debt, He gave us everything. He paid our debt to Him and then some. He merited Heaven for us.

He didn't buy us weekly trips to Disneyland... He bought our admission to eternal life.

Because He is grace, He is our Greatest Blessing.  

He. Gifts. Himself. To. Us.

Each Divine Person of our One God deserves more praise and thanksgiving than we can ever give Him... through Him we live, we move, we have our being.

... but how can we thank Him when we feel like He isn't there for us? When things go terribly wrong, when life isn't fair, it's tempting to feel abandoned by our Savior. He promised us joy... why, then, does it seem that the more we love Him, the more we trip and fall on our faces?

Because sometimes He wants us to be His gift. And that itself is the greatest gift: we are allowed to be Christ to others.

Think about that for a minute.

Wait. Keep thinking about it.

If your mind isn't blown yet by the humbling and enormously frightening reality of that gift, let me help.

Jesus is grace. He gifts us Himself so we carry that grace, His grace, His light in our own persons. That grace, that gift of Jesus Himself, is not something we should (or even really can) keep to ourselves. We can't contain Him.

So when nothing can go right for you - the car won't start, your clothes don't fit, your milk has soured, and your life just seems upside-down-and-inside-out - it can be hard to find God's blessings. It's hard to see His grace at work because everywhere you look just reminds you of what you don't have or what you need to get done or that you feel alone. Because how can the God of the universe let the universe of someone He loves fall to pieces? Shouldn't the life of a Christian be joyful and peaceful?

A word in today's psalm struck me. Let's pray Psalm Twenty-Three:

You spread the table before me
in the sight of my foes;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Only goodness and kindness follow me
all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
for years to come.

Sounds good, right? He spreads a table before me. Fantastic. My cup overflows. Awesome. But then... "only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life"... they follow me. The verb choice here is very telling. Goodness and kindness don't greet me, don't welcome me, don't throw a constant party for me. They follow me.

Our life will be established and rooted and transformed in & through joy and peace. But the world holds a lot of darkness. We can't expect to find light everywhere we go; we are expected to bring light - The Light - everywhere we go. We are called to light up the world. Christ calls us to bring goodness and kindness everywhere, all the days of our lives, because the world needs it, not because it already has it.

Life in Christ is joyful and peaceful, but not always in a way we can see clearly. 

He spoils us. He really does. He gives us so many things, both the enormous graces of the Sacraments and the tiny graces of beautiful flowers. His graces are our gifts and He showers them on us. I don't use showers flippantly here - He really, truly showers us with His gifts. 

But the greatest gift He can give us? It doesn't come with warm fuzzies or tied up with ribbons. The greatest gift He can give us is to allow us to be His Blessing. But being His blessing hurts. It hurts because we can only be Christ to others when we are giving ourselves to others. Being His blessing doesn't feel like handing down your leftovers to someone in need. Being His blessing feels like taking a part of yourself and giving it away. Christ gave Himself to us so that we might have life. To be Christ to others, we must also give ourselves, our lives, to others.

Where He needs us to bring His Blessing most are places that are darkest. Those dark corners and shadowy places are where His Light is needed most. Those are not places where you will find welcome and love and acceptance as a Christian, but those are the places that desperately need Christ. You won't find that goodies bags of extra graces are handed to you as you venture into those dark places. The gifts come from you - Christ gives you the gift of being His Gift to another person.

The greatest gift He can give us is to be the Blessing. 

It's incredibly humbling to realize that's what He wants us to do. He asks that we strive to bring & leave goodness and kindness here on our earthly journey, especially to the places that don't have it in the abundance He desires. 

So when the world is dark and scary and sad, when it seems like all you do is give, give, give... remember that is your greatest gift from God. And just keep giving. He won't ever run out of gifts for you.