The Color of Weird versus the King of Cool. Who makes the rules anyway?


cra cra 2

Ever since I read Blue Like Jazz I’ve been off my game. Sure, Donald Millar had some

  • great stories,
  • and riveting spiritual insight.

But, the title of the book makes me want to dial the Crayola police. I mean, blue? the color of Jazz?

Sorry, I’m getting carried away. It’s the “rules girl” part of my personality.

Don’t get me wrong.

Some rules are good. They keep us safe. Promote harmony. Encourage spiritual growth.

Other rules are toxic. The result of

  • unbridled snobbery.
  • Control freaks bent on destroying creativity.
  • Elitists demanding a social cool that  stifles the unique beauty of individuality.

Not what I wanted for me. Or, so I thought.

When I pulled into a shopping mall parking lot today, I saw a van with stuffed animals all over it.

crazy van 2

It’s like the driver forgot to put on the brakes when he parked in front of ToysRus.


My first thoughts-

  • How crazy.
  • Ridiculous.
  • Not cool.

And, that’s when it hit me. I was acting like the King of Cool. Legislating the placement of cheap toys on an ordinary car.

Then, I remembered that there was little chance that my preferences would ever become law.

That’s a good thing.

Part of the adventure of life is

  1. creating
  2. dreaming
  3. and expressing joy in weird and wonderful ways.

Who knows? If stuffed animals can ride around the top of mini vans, maybe the sound of Jazz really is the color blue.

What keeps us sane? An unchanging God in an ever changing world.



I’m a hoarder.

Don’t get me wrong.

  • My garage still holds two cars.
  • No towers of old newspapers line the hallways of my home.

It’s the nooks and crannies of my mind that bulge with stuff.  Every memory I can get my hands on had been squished and squeezed into any available space.

You see, my daughter is going away to New Zealand for six months. That’s a long time.

So, I’ve been trying to

  • go out to coffee with her.
  • stay up for late night chats.
  • clear my schedule for shopping and spontaneous lunch dates. 

Can’t stop. I’m a mom. Holding on is what I’m wired to do.

That’s why I pretend nothing will never change. Everyone will stay the same. Life will stay on pause just where I want it to.

I just can’t let go.

Deep down I know the truth.

  1. Kids grow up.
  2. Parents age.
  3. Family dynamics change.

Basically, nothing is this world stays the same. neighborhoods change.  Churches Change. Even the weather patterns change.

Only God stays the same. Yesterday, today and forever.

  • He is always with us even though we cannot look upon His face.
  • He understands us even though we are sometimes confused about who we even are.
  • He knows where we are headed even if we are not sure where we have even been.

Best part of all – He keeps us in the hollow of His hand. You. Me. The ones we love. We are together there.

Makes New Zealand seem not so far away.