Call Me A Foule of Parlement

Valentine’s Day. For many it’s just another day. Some, go nuts and run for the nearest Hallmark store to purchase a five foot tall card to declare their love to their significant other as soon as Christmas is over. To others, it's become known as Singles Awareness Day - A day to commit to the eating of a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. And as for me, it’s one of my favorite holidays, during my single years and my not so single years alike. I’ve heard all of the arguments of the naysayers. “Why do we need a special day to celebrate loving someone? That should be something you do every day.” (Yes, it should.) “It’s just another holiday cooked up by the chocolate conglomerates of the world to make an extra buck.” But what is so wrong with having a whole day extra specially dedicated to love?

Now I’m not endorsing the millions of pounds of chocolates or flowers being sold and bought, nor the sappy love cards written by a complete stranger. But I am absolutely a fan of the origins of this holiday that so many call made up and superficial. No you don’t get the day off work, but you can enjoy a sweetheart shake from Sonic or a heart shaped donut filled with chocolate from Krispie Kreme! Valentine’s Day is part legend, part poetry, part history, and I find it particularly interesting. I will do my best to bring a little clarity to the origins of this mysterious holiday. I did my research, and these are the pieces of the story I hope to be true.

Jack and Rose. Edward and Bella. Romeo and Juliet. Noah and Allie. What do all of these great romances have in common? (Other than being my favorites?!) They were all forbidden. What is it about a forbidden romance that makes it so good? It’s a timeless story, survival of the deepest love, some with happy endings and several with tragic repercussions. So where does this Valentine story begin and what does it have to do with forbidden love? Valentine (aka Valentinus) was a Roman priest in 1493, later to become know as Saint Valentine. Valentine was arrested and imprisoned upon being caught marrying Christian couples in secret, who at the time were under persecution of the Roman ruler, Claudius II, also known as Claudius Gothicus. Claudius ordered that young men remain single. The Emperor allegedly did this to grow his army, believing that married men did not make for good soldiers. Helping Christians at this time was considered a crime. It is said that Claudius took a liking to his prisoner, Valentine, despite his crime, until Valentine tried to convert the Emperor. At which point Valentine was condemned to death. He was beaten with clubs and stoned. When that failed to kill him, he was beheaded. The skull of St Valentine is presently on display in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome.

There is an additional modern embellishment to the story, widely repeated despite having no historical basis whatsoever. On the evening before Valentine was to be executed, he would have written the first "valentine" card himself, addressed to the blind daughter of his jailor Asterius, whom he had grown quite fond of, signing as "From your Valentine." Hence, Saint Valentine became a martyr for love and for Christ and the “Valentine card” was created. This story, whatever parts may be true or embellished led to the creation of a great feast to be held on the anniversary of Saint Valentine’s death, February 14th, and St. Valentine’s Day was born, known today simply as Valentine’s Day.

If martyrdom doesn’t evoke amorous feelings for you, the first recorded relationship of Valentine's Day with romantic love is in Parlement of Foules (1382)a poem by Geoffrey Chaucer. (The Canterbury Tales) Written to honor the first anniversary of the engagement of King Richard II of England to Anne of Bohemia, he wrote:

“For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.”
Translated-"For this was on Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate."

Many of the current legends that describe Saint Valentine were embellished in fourteenth century England, notably by Geoffrey Chaucer and his circle, particularly in this poem, connecting the feast day of February 14 with romantic love.

So there you have it! My agenda is not to persuade all of the Valentine’s Day haters to lovers, but simply bring more understanding as to what this somewhat misunderstood holiday was evolved from. For more interesting Valentine topics search: The Valentine’s Day Massacre.

I did most of my research on Wikipedia and eChaucer. Check them out for more on Valentine’s Day and The Parliament of Birds.

I stumble for the words that could convey...

Before I jump into this next entry I want to do a quick update and let everyone know where I have disappeared to. I actually have not disappeared, I am right here; I just have very limited computer access these days. I have also spent the last seven weeks in a wonderful whirl of wind. As many of you know I was laid off from my job at the end of January. The work that God has done in my life from that day forth has been whimsical and supernatural. Within the last few weeks I found a new home, church, friends, family, work, and my future husband. I never could have planned this on my own. God is creative. God is good. Here is a little insight by way of a letter I wrote to the second greatest love of my life. (God being numero uno of course!)

Dear Bryce,

I always thought that if I decided to settle down I would lose my wings; my self conceived freedom. You have shown me that this is not the case at all. My parents once called me their “gypsy” child. I’ve never kept a job for more than four years. I have moved more than fifteen times in the last twenty-four years. And, my hair color has changed about as many times as my toothbrush, if not more. I use to fear that my life would be average. So I strived to live unconventionally. Partially because the death of my brother prompted me to seize life; but also because my greatest fear was living life in a box.

What does all of this have to do with my newest tattoo? I originally wanted to get wings tattooed on my back to symbolize my “freedom.” I would constantly say to people, “don’t take my wings,” whenever I felt the pressure of commitment. I think I may have even said those exact words to you as we started to discuss dating. (You told me you wanted to fly along side of me.) I perceived dating, marriage, children, a mortgage, a church membership, etc…as roots, as wing clippers. Those things are in fact the opposite. You have shown me that. You have given me my true wings Bryce, and the kind of freedom and life I didn’t even know I longed for, with your love. So my first wing is all yours, just for you. I spent the last three years of my life living out the verses of Psalm 40. I waited on the Lord. I fell deeply in love with Him and shared His (our) love story with others. I was obedient, and He blessed me with you. In a way that I could never fashion or imagine and no one could ever reproduce or fully comprehend.

So I will get my second wing for you, as well as our first child. I can’t fathom anything causing me to be more airborne than starting a legacy with you, and our beautiful, powerful Savior and King leading the way. I love you so much baby. Thank you for opening my eyes and softening my heart, by being the man that God created you to be. Thank you for giving me my wings and promising to and desiring to soar alongside me forever. You are my amazing.

Penny

P.S. I guess you have to fly around in circles with me until I get my second wing ;)

Psalm 40

A David Psalm

^1-3 I waited and waited and waited for God. At last he looked; finally he listened.
He lifted me out of the ditch,
pulled me from deep mud.
He stood me up on a solid rock
to make sure I wouldn't slip.
He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,
a praise-song to our God.
More and more people are seeing this:
they enter the mystery,
abandoning themselves to God.

^4-5 Blessed are you who give yourselves over to God,
turn your backs on the world's "sure thing,"
ignore what the world worships;
The world's a huge stockpile
of God-wonders and God-thoughts.
Nothing and no one
comes close to you!
I start talking about you, telling what I know,
and quickly run out of words.
Neither numbers nor words
account for you.

⁶ Doing something for you, bringing something to you—
that's not what you're after.
Being religious, acting pious—
that's not what you're asking for.
You've opened my ears
so I can listen.

^7-8 So I answered, "I'm coming.
I read in your letter what you wrote about me,
And I'm coming to the party
you're throwing for me."
That's when God's Word entered my life,
became part of my very being.

^9-10 I've preached you to the whole congregation,
I've kept back nothing, God—you know that.
I didn't keep the news of your ways
a secret, didn't keep it to myself.
I told it all, how dependable you are, how thorough.
I didn't hold back pieces of love and truth
For myself alone. I told it all,
let the congregation know the whole story.

^11-12 Now God, don't hold out on me,
don't hold back your passion.
Your love and truth
are all that keeps me together.
When troubles ganged up on me,
a mob of sins past counting,
I was so swamped by guilt
I couldn't see my way clear.
More guilt in my heart than hair on my head,
so heavy the guilt that my heart gave out.

^13-15 Soften up, God, and intervene;
hurry and get me some help,
So those who are trying to kidnap my soul
will be embarrassed and lose face,
So anyone who gets a kick out of making me miserable
will be heckled and disgraced,
So those who pray for my ruin
will be booed and jeered without mercy.

^16-17 But all who are hunting for you—
oh, let them sing and be happy.
Let those who know what you're all about
tell the world you're great and not quitting.
And me? I'm a mess. I'm nothing and have nothing:
make something of me.
You can do it; you've got what it takes—
but God, don't put it off.

THE COWTOWN

February 27, 2010
Fort Worth, Texas

I will be participating in the full marathon this year. I am asking for donations by the mile. The duration of my race will be 26.2 miles. As little as one quarter a mile will make a difference! The charity I have chosen to support is listed below and is a cause I am very passionate about contributing to. If you choose to participate in donating, just let me know your amount for a per-mile-pledge, and I will set you up! Thank you in advance!

Here is the link to the website for all of the event details:
http://www.cowtownmarathon.org/default.aspx

It is a fun event and I encourage you to come out and watch or even participate!
(Shorter and longer courses are available.)

ALL PROCEEDS WILL BENEFIT:

http://www.campconquer.org/

clean on the outside cream on the inside ice cream paint job: 2010 thus far.

Greeted New Years morning by hugging a toilet. It did not hug back. Drank lots of sprite. Drank lots of water. Took my pulse. Took in a movie. Took over Breckenridge. Went skiing. Lost my toenail. Went night skiing. Lost my balance. Drank free hot chocolate from the Crepe Cart! Met up with an old friend over an exquisite plate of mango pepper chicken. Drove in the snow. And of course by drove, I mean slid. Ate biscuits and gravy with mom and dad. Said my farewell to Matty. Went to Chili’s. Watched Masen dehydrate. Said farewell to Masen. Sat in the Denver airport for four hours. Drank lots of coffee. Wrote lots of words. Flight got delayed. Should have sprung that extra forty dollars for an earlier flight. Sat in the Denver airport for two more hours. Drank more coffee. Wrote more words. My Caribou Coffee cup told me, “Life is short. Stay awake for it.” Kind of made me want to throw my cup up against the wall. You stay awake in the Denver airport for six hours Caribou Coffee! I hereby vow my loyalty to Starbucks. Went to McDonalds. My quarter pounder with cheese and I fell down in front McDonalds. The Denver airport applauded our skills. “Penny and ‘quarter pounder’ take a bow.”

Arrived back in the Big D. Took Runner out to pee. Spent the day with my Farmbot. Went to my first bowling tournament. Observed lots of strange people. Gave lots of high fives. Slowly scooted away from old, crazy lady whom was carrying on a conversation with herself. Went to BJ’s. Ate a cookies and cream pazookie! Fell in love with my friend’s ex-boyfriends little brother. Found out he had a girlfriend. Fell out of love. Picked up Runner’s poop. Returned to work after two week vacation. Met Linda for bible study at Starbucks. Wore matching sweater vests. Fact. Took Runner out to pee. Attended regular therapy session at Bueno with Rye-Rye and Lindabugg. For the first time ever I was not the teacher, I was the student. Launched operation fall out...again. Picked up Runner’s poop. Watched the Cowboys win their first play-off game in years. Finally got that monkey off their back…JS. Took Runner out to pee. Went to church, cleaned the loft. Realized I had eaten at Bueno, Whataburger, Taco Cabana, and Starbucks in no more than two days…thought about becoming bulimic…went for a run instead. Cowtown, there’s a storm a coming, and it goes by the name PBaker. Picked up Runner’s poop.

Monday morning-back to work-overslept-looked awesome. Hosted gamenight. Jeremy there informed us that Russia has water, and he sang us the Mickey Mouse Club song. Reaffirmed how very Asian Linda is. Said goodbye to my dear Geno friend…again. Took Runner out to pee. Trusted Deuteronomy 29:29. Went to Starbucks. Said, “Hi” to Micah.” He said, “Hi Penny.” Which I am pretty sure is code for, “I love you.” Hot baristas are in excess. I think they are multiplying… Picked up Runner’s poop. Received a card from Schauna aka Master Chief. We shall storm Valhalla united in the very near future MC! Took Runner out to pee. Slightly concerned by the un-eventfulness of my new year…Realized the beginning of 2010 is freakishly alike in comparison to 2009. Cuddled up with Runner and a good book on the couch.

I love my life.

It Takes Time to Extract Joy from Life

Ingredient 3


In medicine, hematuria is the presence of red blood cells in the urine. March hematuria occurs when blood is seen in the urine after strenuous exercise, particularly affecting the feet such as running on a hard road for an extended period of time. The repetitive nature of this type of activity causes mechanical trauma to the red blood cells causing them to break open and release hemoglobin into the surrounding fluid. Free hemoglobin released from red blood cells is filtered into the urine. In laymen’s terms, I went for a long run this weekend. Afterwards I went pee and there was blood in my urine. It was either because the constant vibrations initiated by my feet striking the ground put stress on my kidney, actually causing it to leak blood into my bladder. OR I was slightly dehydrated causing the walls of my bladder to rub together and excrete blood. So what gives with the slightly disturbing biology lesson?

It’s pretty sickening, but in a way quite remarkable. We have the uncanny ability to be so determined to accomplish an undertaking regardless the undesirable effects. In part two of this series I talked about the art of racing in the rain. I liken this act of passionate running to the (effortless) “art” of hopelessly chasing the wind.

I spent Thanksgiving week alone this year.
Day three of solitude and only two more days to go. I have caught myself in deep conversation with the cat, routinely checking my phone for messages, and observing dust particles as they float. I feel that I have matured by at least ten years over these past few days. Spend a few days alone and soul searching will surely endure. My time of solitude landing my heart in a much needed position of studying the book of Ecclesiastes. Ecclesiastes addresses the inevitable human activity of chasing after that which is untamable. Often I feel that I have life set on its course only to find myself knocked backwards by a sucker punch. And it is usually when I am in pursuit of something fruitless… Whether in quest of power, relationship, money, work, pleasure, wisdom, spirituality, or even immortality, our searching or wind chasing is forever futile. It leaves us with a lingering sensation of emptiness and wanting. Chasing after these untamable things always results in this feeling. Even when I am sly enough to capture and maintain one or two of these prestigious idols, I always want more and will always want more.

The Greek translation of the book Ecclesiastes emphatically proclaims all the actions of man to be inherently "vain", "futile", "empty", "meaningless", "temporary", "transitory", or "fleeting," depending on translation. We assume God will take care of those who pursue him. I don’t find this to be the case. We were all designed with desire in mind. I don’t know about you, but this soul is tired of chasing. I believe in God, I believe in His promises. But instead of trusting God for those promises many times I find myself manipulating situations, people, or circumstances to push those promises into reality before their readied time, instead of just trusting. Which I believe, the act of trusting, is what God fully desires from us. Not to say we should just sit back and expect good things to happen, but there is a boundary between manipulating our lives and being a responsible steward. “In moments we are reminded that we have no control over our world. What we can control however is our willingness to seek God in the midst of seeming chaos. We can affirm that life is not tamable but it is purposeful. Strength is found in weakness. Control is found in dependency. Power is found in surrender. Give up the fight to control that which we cannot.” Dan B. Allender

Ecclesiastes 8:16-17 says, “When I determined to load up on wisdom and examine everything taking place on earth, I realized that if you keep your eyes open day and night without even blinking, you'll still never figure out the meaning of what God is doing on this earth. Search as hard as you like, you're not going to make sense of it. No matter how smart you are, you won't get to the bottom of it.” Are you frustrated to the core? Whether you believe in a higher being or not, you are probably doing some chasing yourself and can relate. I have resolved that if I am going to chase after something, I will chase after those who need chasing. There are so many opportunities to love. It takes time to learn. To extract. To share. I beg of you, don’t catch yourself with nothing to show for in this life but a bladder full of blood. It’s just gross, and not worth the effort. I am choosing now to be a chaser of God residing above the sun. And maybe for once, I will try letting something or someone chase me.

Wedding dress by Derek Webb.
If you could love me as a wife
and for my wedding gift, your life
Should that be all I’d ever need
or is there more I’m looking for

and should I read between the lines
and look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what you want

I am a whore I do confess
But I put you on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle
and I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
but I put you on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle to you

So could you love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust you to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
and with the other in your side

I am so easily satisfied
by the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over your very flesh and blood

Because money cannot buy
a husbands jealous eye
When you have knowingly deceived his wife


*For further reading on this topic I highly suggest, Breaking the Idols of Your Heart: How to Navigate the Temptations of Life by Dan B. Allender.

Now bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible...Shakespeare

One…two…three…four…my dad and I whisper numbers as we count out three foot strides simultaneously. We use traffic cones to mark off fifty yards for the kids run. The immediate was extremely simplistic; the calm, quiet, October night sky. A rewarding and overwhelmingly satisfying feeling crept over me unaware. Something dad and I had dreamt up in our living room over two years ago was launched into reality at this moment. Tomorrow morning, three hundred and fifty athletes would gather together with one simple and common goal, to run. The brief amount of time dad and I had alone together that night, preparing for a mutual passion, I will carry with me forever.

My phone resounds in an alarming matter. I clumsily wave my arms around in search of my cellular nemesis. I frantically punch buttons to shut it up. Again, it sounds off. This time I glance down at the screen. It’s not my alarm but a text message from Schauna that reads good luck today! Confusion ensues. Why is Schauna awake at 5am? A sickness washes over my being as I entertain the terrifying thought that I may have overslept. Did I miss it!? The current time is 7:05am. Shotgun is at 7:30am. I was to be awake and at the race two and a half hours ago…I am awesome. Panic, is my initial reaction. I am completely unprepared to be at the start line in twenty-five minutes seeing that I had fallen into bed, clothes and all at 1:30am the night before after a seventeen hour day of race setup. Where are my running shoes? Socks? Bib? My watch? Scout? Can I make it through the race traffic in time? I wonder if dad had enough help at race day registration this morning in my absence… By some miracle working act of God, really, I find myself at the start line with four minutes to spare. Enough time to tie my shoes and realize that I have had nothing to eat or drink in the last ten hours. Not ideal conditions just before a lengthy run. Believing that about seventy-five percent of running is mental training and only twenty-five percent physical, I psych myself up to encounter this run with great optimism and enthusiasm.

The atmosphere when runners are corralled at the start line of a race is unique indeed. There are many waves of emotion present. Adrenaline, nausea, excitement, nervousness. Inevitably you feel the need to find a restroom, even though you just visited one two minutes before jumping into the crowd of insanity. The smell is anticipation. Every runner is indulging in their pre-race rituals. Some stretch, some become Mexican jumping beans, others you will find jamming to their IPOD. I pray. Even surrounded by hundreds of other runners, this moment is always all mine, and it is beautiful. Race day weather was absolutely amazing. Sixty degrees, no rain, only slight winds. Perfection for running. The race commenced at the sound of a shotgun. We were off and running! Once past the cheering crowds all that can be heard is the light pitter patter of shoes on the pavement. How I love that sound.

I had my best running partner, Candy by my side for miles one through three. We had a pleasing pace going until I began to feel somewhat nauseated as we rounded mile four. I looked at Candy and said, I think I need throw up. Uh oh, she says. Not one minute later I was doubled over in a mesquite bush greeting anything and everything I had in my system a good morning. I had Candy and a few other friends keep on running while I stayed there to empty out. No need for everyone’s finish time to suffer on my account. Darling Joni, my angel for the day, stayed with me because she says she was hoping for an excuse to slow the pace. Leave it to me, but really, I think she was just trying to make me feel better. And you know it was probably good to have somebody with me to make sure I did not pass out all alone. So I decide I am going to finish this race, even if it was going to kill me, and it almost did. I jogged the next two miles feeling much less nauseated, but still not well by any means. Then up it came again… I couldn’t even keep down water. But I had to finish. I have never quit a race before, and I was not about to let the first time be in one that I helped organize.

As I struggled to keep a steady jog, I ran across very unfamiliar physical grief. My chest began to tighten, making it particularly hard to breath. My brain was cloudy. The muscles in my legs felt as if they were shriveling up like raisins disabling much movement. I’m pretty sure Joni told me my coloring went from white, to yellow, to gross. “Pain is the body’s way of ridding itself of weakness.” –Dean Karnazes. That quote is running on a loop through my head. We approach the finish line, and everyone is cheering. I see my dad clapping and congratulating me along with a few other friends, the look on his face quickly went from excitement to horror. I must have looked lovely. I don’t really remember anything after that. There was sitting and I think there were orange slices. Apparently, the water I was drinking at the aid stations along the course was not water at all. It was a sports drink that was clear. Sports drinks make me sick. Hence the vomiting. It took me a good two days to hydrate my body after that. I successfully achieved my worst race time ever on this day. Again, I am awesome. We did have one competitor get hit by a car while he was running, so I was not in as bad of shape as I thought. Although the guy did place seventh, even after getting plummeted by a vehicle. Amazing.

Dad and I and several other volunteers stuck around a few hours after the races to clean up. Completely lacking in sleep and fluids, there was still nowhere else in the world I would rather be. All of CrossRoads Marathon events were a success, the marathon, half-marathon, 5K and kids run. Thank you to God, my dad, the race committee, our volunteers, the athletes and their families, our sponsors, and the church. Without everyone giving and working together we never could have made this race a reality or most importantly, raised funds for local charities. Boom I say! :)

What's In A Name?

Twenty-seven years ago, Pam and Reggie were sitting in Beaumont, Texas at St. Elizabeth's Hospital debating over a middle name for their precious, beautiful, lovely, divine, delightful, enchanting, flawless, wonderful, breathtaking baby daughter. By agreeing to disagree, I was robbed of a middle name. Going through life middle nameless is like a Dairy Queen ice cream cone without the curl on top. It's like Snap and Crackle with no Pop and like the Dallas Cowboys, with no Roy Williams... Incomplete. Do I feel inadequate when filling out standardized tests, applications, and other paperwork? I certainly did when I was younger. I used to sit in the junior high library during TASS testing with my immaculately sharpened number two pencil in hand, contemplating making up some remarkable middle name for myself. Then I decide that was a bad idea. I mean, I didn't want to get arrested for fraud! Or have to retake that hideous test. When I was in high school and began filling out applications for jobs, I would write N/A in the blank for a middle name instead of just leaving it bare. For some reason it made me feel more sufficient to put something in the blank space, which always prompted my interviewer to question the N/A. Then I would have to explain that I have no middle name, leaving me feeling more inadequate than ever. Then, when I moved on to college and there after, I gave up. Paperwork of all kind was left wanting when it came to that mocking vacant space intended for a middle name.

I should say that I was never too fond of my first name either. Being referred to as nickel, dime, quarter, dime sack, Lincoln, etc. very rapidly became unoriginal. Although, I have found as I have gotten older that the opposite sex finds the name Penny to be rather adorable. So even though I had no say and cannot claim any responsibility in naming myself, Penny has its charms... The reactions I get when someone discovers my secretive name shame is always the same. The individual will say my name out loud. Then laugh. Proclaim that I have the most wholesome, Texan-American name possible, and then feel that they must share this information with someone in close proximity to see if they also have the same enthusiasm. It is just now, on my twenty-seventh year that I have embraced my name and lack there of. I entered this era of enlightenment while I was reclining in Hollywood Theaters with my dear friend Schauna as we took in the flick, Love Happens. Eloise is the name I was coveting from this feature and I voiced my envy for Schauna to hear. "But your name is Penny! That's just as good as Eloise! And just as cute." She replied enthusiastically. Schauna was right. For the first time ever, I honest to God actually liked my name. So I do not need a middle name. My first name is cool enough to cover all the bases.

So thank you mom and dad. For keeping it simple and unique. Penny means, "Weaver of dreams." I like it. Hopefully I am just that. But it also means, "Duck", which is just weird and I have no further opinion concerning that interpretation. Mom says I was named Penny after one of her friends in college. I'm pretty sure I was named Penny due to my dad's obsession with the Beatles though... And the last name Baker, well that would be a whole other blog all itself. But to be Baker, is to know greatness ;)