Redeemed to be a servant

In a way that I've never experienced before, I'm feeling stressed out by Christmas. Don't get me wrong. I love shopping for presents, love the crowds that come with that, love all the parties and the crazy schedule, love the music playing everywhere. No, I'm not stressed out by the traditionally "stressful" aspects of Christmas at all.

So what's going on?

I want everyone to love Christmas as much as I do. Or at least to like that I like it as much as I do. But they don't. And I, the hopeless people-pleaser, hate that I am unintentionally stressing out the people around me. I don't care if other people buy me presents; I don't care if I get Christmas cards from everyone I know. I don't want people to come to my Christmas party because they feel obligated; and I don't care if other people don't want to get their own Christmas trees. I mean, I might judge them a little for that, but that's beside the point. Kidding.

I know that I get caught up in the externals of it-- I can be like the pre-conversion Grinch who thought that Christmas would only come with ribbons, tags, packages, boxes, and bags. I love the romantic feel of this holiday season; I love the lights and the music and everything about it. But why? I keep asking myself. Why do you care so much about Christmas?

I decided to do my own sort of Advent devotional series this year. I'm reading New Testament Christmas passages in the morning and Old Testament Christmas prophecies in the evenings. I've only been doing it for a couple days now, but I'd encourage everyone to try it. Did you know that Christmas has been part of God's plan all along? I think I forget that. Not the presents and trees part, but the coming-of-Jesus part. The whole reason we use this season to show others we love them: we love because he first loved us. And he loved us so much that he sent his Son. To a manger in Bethlehem. And that is what we celebrate.

Anyway.... that was a rather long-winded introduction to what I really wanted to blog about today. Since I'm early on in this Advent devotional series, I just read Luke 1. Zechariah's prophecy has been one of my favorite passages for a while now-- I feel like it's a condensed systematic theology based on Christmas, and that's a pretty great thing! Here's the part I've been meditating on today:

"Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
for he has visited and redeemed his people
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us. . .
to show the mercy promised to our fathers
and to remember his holy covenant, . . .
to grant us that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
might serve him without fear,
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days" (from Luke 1:68-75).

I have been redeemed. But not without reason. I have been delivered so that I might serve God. And not serve him because I'm afraid of him-- serve him because I'm thankful for all that he has done for me.

So this is what I've been thinking about: if I truly serve God without fear, what does that look like in my daily life? If I believe and act like my life is not my own, how different would things look? God redeemed me to serve him, but that also looks like serving other people. Serving isn't always glamorous. Sometimes it means doing the dishes or cleaning the bathroom when you don't want to (and let's be honest, does anyone ever really want to?? I sure don't....). For me at Alice's, it means doing my sidework cheerfully and helping others whenever and however I can. Because I love these people, yes; but even more-so because that's why God redeemed me. He didn't just save me so I could be selfish and do whatever I want; he has claimed my life and my energy and my time.

Serve him without fear. Well now, that shoots my whole "cosmic killjoy" thing right out of the water, doesn't it? I have nothing to be afraid of, because my God is good. And it's not scary to serve him, because he loves me. He is a God of mercy who keeps his promises, and he has promised good things to his children.

It kind of changes the whole Christmas scene. I mean, I still love walking around New York with my iPod listening to "Silver Bells" and other Christmas songs. But today I was walking around looking at the lights and the Christmas decorations and thinking Jesus was born so he could die and I could be redeemed. Redeemed to be a servant! A servant who has nothing to fear, and everything to gain.

And that's worth celebrating!

O, Christmas Tree

How much are those trees? -- I asked the man, as I pointed to a short little Christmas tree on the sidewalk a few blocks from our apartment.
"The short ones are $25. They go up to $50," he said, as he pointed first to a 2 foot tree, then to a 3 foot tree.
Oh. Um. How much are the bigger ones? Maybe for some reason the short ones are more popular in New York because space is limited? Maybe the tall ones won't be crazy expensive??
"These are $180."
Wrong yet again.
Um.... what about the slightly shorter ones?
"They start at $90 and go to $180."
Okay, thanks. I'll have to think about it.
Think about it?? As in, do I have any other options?! I sure hope so!!

So when the guy at the stand near work (on the Upper West Side) told me that their 4-foot trees started at $30 and the most expensive ones were $90, I was thrilled. A group of us met up to enjoy Winter's Eve, one of the largest holiday festivals in New York City (it was awesome, by the way). When we parted, Gretchen and I headed back to that corner store to pick out a tree.

And yes, that meant we had to lug it home on the subway.

People smiled at us as they saw us carrying the 7-foot tree down the stairs and then standing with it on the subway platform.
"It's Christmas! Smells good!" said one woman as we waited for our train to come.
We worked the tree into the subway car and tried not to be in the way-- kind of hard to do with a 7-foot tree that's not wrapped very tightly. But people were gracious, and even entertained. Two guys got on the subway, took one look at us, and just started laughing.
"Where did you get that?"
At a corner store on 73rd and Columbus! It's the cheapest one we've been able to find. You should go there!
"And you're taking it on the subway. Awesome."

A few stops later another guy got on, looked at us, and said "That's amazing."
What, I don't get what's so funny? -- I quipped with a straight face.
"The tree. It's just funny! It's great! It's hard to move big things in New York. I'm glad you're taking the subway. It's just great!"

I love Christmas. I love that everyone is a bit more relaxed, is a bit more willing to smile and chat. I love that people in New York understand it's important to have a Christmas tree, even if it means carrying it from the far end of Manhattan to Brooklyn to get one you can afford.

I can smell our tree from my room, the fresh Christmas scent wafting in from the living room.

And it makes me really happy.

'Twas the Night before the Night before Thanksgiving

.... and I couldn't sleep.

Because I'm that excited for the weekend. No lie.

:)

Homeward Bound?

"What are you up to for Thanksgiving?"

It's a common question, given that the holiday is now just days away. The conversation usually goes something like this...

I'm going to my 'rents.
"Oh that's fun. Where's home?"
If I could tell you that, I would be able to answer the question that's been haunting me for months now.
Um.... well, my parents live in Maryland....
"But that's not home?"
Well, they moved there a couple years ago. I grew up in Jersey.
"I didn't realize you live in Jersey. I thought you just moved here."
I don't; I did.... I live in Brooklyn; I just moved here in May from Philly.
"Oh, I'm confused."
Don't worry. I am too.

A couple weeks ago I was trading numbers with someone so we could find each other at an event the next day. I recognized his '856' area code immediately.
You're from South Jersey?!
"Yeah! How did you know?! Are you from South Jersey too??"
No, but I lived there for a while.
"Oh, is that where you moved from?"
Sort of.... I moved here from Philly.
"Ah, so you have a '215' area code?"
No.... I used to have a '201' area code, but I just got a '202' number when I got my new phone.
"But that's DC... Girl, you have a story for everything!"
Oh friend, you have no idea.

So tomorrow I'm going to get in the car with two friends from Alice's, and we're going to drive south to the 'rents. On Friday I'll probably pop up to Philly with my padre to check on the house and take care of getting my car inspected and hopefully have lunch with some of my basketball girls. On Sunday I'll drive back to New York with my brother.

Which day will I be "home"? I'm not really sure....

I like to think it's actually a blessing to have so many homes. I mean, some days it's overwhelming. Some days I just want to scream because I feel like I don't belong anywhere. But then again, there's something kind of cool about also sort of belonging everywhere. Maybe it's all in the way you look at it??

The Constant Battle

We found an apartment. An amazing apartment, no less. Yes, it's a sixth-floor walkup; but I think that might be the only negative. It's at 100th and Lexington, about twenty blocks from where Ellen lives and where she and Steve will be living after they get married in April. It's about four blocks from the subway (and a Starbucks). It has two decent-sized bedrooms (one is small, but it's workable) and a kitchen that actually has a little bit of counter. The coolest feature is the brick wall between the kitchen and living room-- it has a large cutout that makes the whole apartment feel spacious. Hardwood floors, nice bathroom, granite countertops, sunny and bright atmosphere. Even better, it's actually in our pricerange; and there's not even a broker's fee. And the couple that's moving out offered to leave their dining room table (which we would have needed to buy) and the air-conditioner units (which would be a necessity on that sixth floor during the summer).

Seriously, it's perfect.

And another couple wants it, too.

If God wants you to have this apartment, you will get it-- I have told myself repeatedly.
But what if he doesn't want me to have it?-- the cynical, in-fear-of-a-cosmic-killjoy side of me answers back.
Then he has something better.

And that's the constant battle. To believe that God has good things in store for me. To believe that he is able to do exceedingly and abundantly above all I could ask or imagine. To believe that he delights to give me good gifts. To believe that he is working all things together for my good, because I am called according to his purpose.

New York Real Estate: The Real Scoop

Things I've learned about New York Real Estate during my apartment search--

- closets are NOT a necessity. They are a luxury.

- if you can fit a bed AND a dresser in a room and still have space to walk, it counts as "spacious."

- if an ad says "Convertible 2-bedroom," it means one person can sleep in the living room and they'll charge you like it's a two-bedroom apartment.

- you can choose for your apartment to be spacious, safe, or affordable; but you cannot combine any of these options.

- you can knock off about $50/mo from your rent for every extra floor you walk up above the third floor. This means a 6th-floor walkup is the best bet-- not only will you save money on rent, but you also won't need to pay for a gym membership. Of course, you might melt in the summer when all the heat rises, but at least you don't have to think about that for another six months....

- "Elevator building" is actually a bad thing when you're looking in certain sections of Manhattan-- especially East Harlem, West Harlem, and Washington Heights. There are some people with whom you just never want to get stuck in an elevator. Many of those people live in those "elevator buildings"; and those elevators look suspiciously likely to break.

- when someone tells you a certain neighborhood isn't safe, listen to them. And never, never go check it out at night with the goal of seeing the real neighborhood. You don't want to see the real neighborhood. That was the point in the first place-- you should listen to people who know.

- if you didn't listen to the people who know and you're in that sketchy neighborhood and you are walking past abandoned building after abandoned building and are tempted to turn around, do so. "We're so close, we may as well see it while we're here" is a dumb thing to say. (I'm sorry, Gretchen. But at least we made it out okay, right?)

- you just can't think about what kind of housing you could get in Philly.... or anywhere else, really.... for what you're paying in the Big Apple. You will just get depressed.

Love them like Jesus

One of the ways I love people is that I feel very personally what they're feeling. I'm not sure yet if this is a strength or a weakness. I do know that it can feel very overwhelming at times. This week has been no exception, as people that I care so much about are going through really hard things. I want to fix their problems; I want to give them the right answers-- but I've got nothin'. I don't have the solutions, I can't fix them, I can't even make things hurt less. And boy, do I hate being out of control.

Quite randomly this morning, I chose to listen to Casting Crowns on my commute to work. When this song came on, it hit me hard:

Just love them like Jesus, carry them to Him
His yoke is easy, His burden is light
You don’t need the answers to all of life’s questions
Just know that He loves them and stay by their side
Love them like Jesus

I want so badly to have the perfect words to say. I want to give the right answers to all of life's questions. But I give myself too much credit. Nothing I can come up with will be the magic solution. The real thing I need to do is to show my friends who are hurting that Jesus loves them even more than I do-- and that even my love for them is because of Jesus' love for me. And that when I love them imperfectly, Jesus loves them perfectly.

It kind of takes a load off. I don't have to come up with anything. I just have to bring them to Jesus; he'll provide the answers they need.

The God of All Hope

I've been having a rough week so far, and it's only Tuesday.

I got a text from my mom yesterday telling me that Gramarie fell (again) and broke her (other) hip and her wrist. Last time she fell, I went down and was there for the surgery-- and was so glad I was. This time, that's where I want to be-- not on the receiving end of the text updates.

I miss my Philly friends, but I know I'm not supposed to be there right now. But boy, do I miss them.

We need to figure out where we're going to live, and none of the options are very promising. Safety, space, or location. You can choose one of those, but apparently not all. I was hoping to move by December 1. It's not looking likely.

I got a text from my friend who is coaching my old basketball team in Philly. Two of our girls aren't playing this year. Might not sound like a big deal, but it is. I'm worried about them, and I'm in New York-- not in Philly. I struggle with feeling guilty for abandoning them.

There's other stuff too, but it's not bloggable. That's probably the stuff that has been the hardest this week. I know that's not fair, sorry. Let your imagination run wild.

On my walk home tonight, I prayed Lord, I'm struggling; I'm having a really hard time. Please don't let me lose my hope.

And then this verse came to mind-- a verse that I painted on canvases in my kitchen back in Philly:

May the God of all HOPE
Fill you with PEACE
and JOY as you trust in Him.
(Romans 15:13)

Trust in Him. Trust that his plans are perfect, even if things are going a different direction than you would have chosen for yourself. Even when the details aren't adding up the way you thought they would.

God of all hope, please fill me with peace and joy and help me to trust in You.

Location, Location

Gretchen and I went apartment hunting today. I guess I'm naive, because I thought this was going to be really fun.

Wrong.

The first apartment I looked at was tiny. The second apartment was spacious and beautiful-- and in a really sketchy neighborhood. The third one was small-- we could choose to have a living room OR a second bedroom, but not both. Oh, and it was $200 more than our maximum. The fourth one was great-- and we got harassed walking to and from the apartment building. The fifth one got rented to someone else literally five minutes before we got there. And the sixth one... well, let's just say it was next to this huge abandoned building on a pretty abandoned street in a sketchy neighborhood in Brooklyn. And the only closet was a tiny linen closet in the hallway. So we'll start again tomorrow.

I don't think we're being that picky. Our third roommate now doesn't like it when we have people over-- and if you know me at all, you know that this is killing me softly. I itch to entertain. So does Gretchen. We just want a place that's big enough to have people over-- sushi-making parties, movie nights, for dinner, apple pie parties, sleepovers with out-of-town guests, Christmas parties. Yes, plural.

I really wrestle with where we should look. As single women that often get home late at night because of our jobs, I know we need to take safety into consideration. But I also know that God is just as in-control of my safety in East Harlem as he is here in Cobble Hill. When I heard Nicky Cruz speak at Brooklyn Tabernacle last Sunday, he told about his mentor David Wilkerson who came into a dangerous neighborhood where Nicky was a gang leader. The police told Wilkerson they wouldn't go with him, but he told them that was okay because God was going with him instead. I'd actually never heard of Nicky Cruz before that special service at BT (yes, sometimes I'm convinced I live under a rock...); but it's clear that he has committed his life to serving his new Master. And he is winning many souls for Christ-- and I bet he's glad that David Wilkerson didn't listen to the safety warnings about going into that neighborhood.

So how do you balance it? What is the right relationship between trusting God and being responsible? Part of me would love an apartment with nice granite countertops and hardwood floors and a doorman in the lobby (if I could afford all that!). But the stronger part of me wants to find the roughest neighborhood I can, with kids whose parents don't pay any attention to them and who just need to know that Jesus loves them so much-- and to live there and know them and tell them all about him.

I am wrestling with where God has me in life right now. So many questions. Not enough answers to go around.

I remember when I attended the church-planting assessment last year, the man in charge talked about God showing us footprints that we needed to place our heel in-- and it wasn't until our heel was planted that we could tell which direction our toes were pointing to know where the next step was.

I have planted my heel in New York City. I just still can't tell which direction my toes are pointing.

What's in a name?

"Miss! Miss!"
"She has a name. Use her name!"
"Miss?"

Uhoh, they're talking about me. And I turned around from my barista station to see Miguel (or "Miguelito," as they call him to distinguish him from the other two Miguels that work at Alice's) trying to get my attention to hand me something, while Sue (the baker) reprimanded him for not using my name.

"She has a name," Sue repeated. "It's Anne."
"Aahn?"
"No, Anne."
"Aahn."
"Anne."
My Spanish name is Ana-- I interrupted.
"Ahh.... Ana!" said Miguelito.
"Anita!" said Adolfo.
"Anita Bonita!" said Teo.

Miguelito doesn't call me "Miss" anymore; I think Sue would have his head. But now the guys greet me by name-- whatever version they prefer. I have to say, I wouldn't have thought it would make that much of a difference. But when Nelson walks in and says, "Hola, Ana!" and Adolfo says, "Anita, you make hot chocolate good yesterday?" and Teo says, "Anita Bonita, you here manana?" it makes me smile. I'm starting to love those kitchen guys, even though it makes me wish more than ever before that I'd paid attention in my Spanish classes.

No one in New York calls me "Pumpkin" yet, but I guess I haven't been here that long....

Immanuel-- why it matters

Every June I start to get excited about Christmas. And when I say "excited," I mean shivers-up-my-spine-can't-stop-smiling-excited. It's the most wonderful time of the year.

I love Christmas in the city. I love the lights. I love singing Christmas carols. I love all the excuses for parties and hanging out with friends and family and even strangers. I love Christmas music. I love shopping for Christmas presents. I even love the Salvation Army bell-ringers (and yes, they're out already!). I love watching A Muppet Christmas Carol with my dad every Christmas-- and quoting from it the rest of the year. I love throwing my annual Christmas party. I love Christmas decorations. I love Starbucks Christmas drinks. I love choosing, transporting, and decorating my Christmas tree(s). I love sitting around the fireplace with my family on Christmas morning. I love trying to think of the best possible gift for my brothers. I love the Christmas Eve service at Tenth. I love that almost everyone loves Christmas.

Believe it or not, I could keep going. But I'm guessing you get the idea by now. I seriously love Christmas.

But every once in a while I start to think about why I really love Christmas. Do I just love the sentimental feel to it? As a hopeless romantic, I know that's definitely a part of it. As a Christian, I know that the reason we celebrate Christmas is Christ's birth-- and that his incarnation is the whole reason I can even have a relationship with God. But to be perfectly honest, for a long time I couldn't quite wrap my mind around why a birth was worth that much celebration. Isn't it just kind of an excuse for lots of parties? I wondered.

Music is a strange thing. There's something about music and songs that can break through some of the biggest mental blocks I've ever had. This internal struggle about Christmas has been no exception. Last year at Tenth we did a weekly Christmas Advent concert series during lunch breaks leading up to Christmas. One of the musicians sang a song that sent chills down my spine (in a good way!) and brought tears to my eyes. He sang Michael Card's "Immanuel" --

Immanuel--
Our God is with us
And if God is with us
Who could stand against us
Our God is with us
Immanuel

For all those who live in the shadow of death
A glorious light has dawned
For all those who stumble in the darkness
Behold your light has come

Immanuel
Our God is with us
And if God is with us
Who could stand against us
Our God is with us
Immanuel

So what will be your answer?
Will you hear the call?
Of Him who did not spare His son
But gave him for us all
On earth there is no power
There is no depth or height
That could ever separate us
From the love of God in Christ

Immanuel
Our God is with us
And if God is with us
Who could stand against us
Our God is with us
Immanuel.

I think that's honestly the first time it really hit me. Christmas is when Jesus really became Immanuel-- really became God with us. And it didn't just end back then when people got to meet Jesus in the flesh. He is still with us. He is still with me. And if God is with me, who can stand against me? What do I have to be afraid of, because I am not alone anymore. I fear loneliness probably more than I fear anything else in the world (even mice, and that's saying a lot); but I am not alone and never will be. Because Jesus is Immanuel, and because of him God is with us.

We sang a Chris Tomlin song at Brooklyn Tab yesterday. I'd never heard it before, but it did the same thing to me that Gary's selection did last year. It's called "Our God," and the chorus goes like this:

Our God is greater, our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other.
Our God is Healer, Awesome in Power, Our God! Our God!
And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us.
And if our God is with us, then what could stand against.
And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us.
And if our God is with us, then what could stand against.

My faith is ridiculously weak. I have the most powerful being in the whole universe on my side. And not only that, I have him living in me all the time. What do I have to be afraid of?

So, Christmas is coming. And I really honestly can't wait. I love so much about the season. But my new-found favorite thing-- and the thing I'm going to celebrate the most this year-- is that I'm not just celebrating something that happened 2000+ years ago and doesn't affect me anymore. 2000 years ago God became man and dwelt among us. And 2000 years after that miracle, I-- living here in Brooklyn-- still get to reap the benefits of that gift because God is still with me.

And if my God is for me, then who could ever stop me?
And if my God is with me, then what could stand against?

In every situation

"So, how are you praying about all the uncertainty you feel right now?" Melissa asked me while I was in Philly last weekend.
I guess just asking that God will make it clear what I'm supposed to do next...
"Have you thought about praying for contentment in where you are now?"
No.... I've just been thinking about the things I want to change in my life....

I've been thinking about Melissa's challenge a lot since I've been back in New York. What would it look like for me to accept things as they are and not think about all the things I wish were different? And then the verse kept coming to mind: "I have learned in every situation to be content... I have learned the secret..."

The secret?? I want to know, too! I want to be content-- is it really something I can learn?

So I got out my Bible and looked it up. I'm not sure why I never before realized that this whole passage went together, but here it is:

"...for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:11-13).

I can do all things through him who strengthens me. That's the secret-- the secret is that there isn't some magic formula for me to figure out and start doing, because I can never be content by my own power. I can't be content by myself. Yet that's what I've been striving after-- If I could just change X Y and Z, then I would be content.

So if I can't learn contentment on my own, how do I get there? That's the secret Paul shares; Christ is the one that will get me to that point. I can do all things-- I can be content-- through Christ, who gives me strength for that task. I think God calls us to things that sound like they should be really easy, but are actually really hard when you try to do it by yourself. Kind of humbling, isn't it, to realize that we can't even do something like "be happy" by ourselves? Think about the command that comes earlier in the chapter: Rejoice always. That sounds good to me; I would like to be happy and joyful and rejoicing all the time. But.... Do I still have to rejoice when things are hard and I don't feel like rejoicing?
Always.
But how? I can't make myself be happy.
You can do all things through him who strengthens you.

It's true, though-- I can't make myself be happy. I can't make myself be content. Not in my own strength, anyway. But that's the secret that Paul knew deeply and wants us to know in the same way: I-- you-- can do all things through him who gives me/you strength. Even something as wild and crazy as being content when things are going differently than I would have chosen for myself.

Still Fighting It

Everybody knows
It sucks to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it...

By now I don't have to remind you that I am Ben Folds. I mean, it's either that or he just likes to write lyrics about my life. Which do you think is more likely? My point exactly.

That song played through my head nonstop when I went back to Philly this past weekend to celebrate Melissa's 30th birthday. From Friday to Sunday I got to see some of my favorite people in the world-- to talk and listen and laugh with many friends I haven't really seen all summer. In a lot of ways, it felt good to be home. On Sunday I walked down 17th Street. I saw Harold on the other side of the street and wondered if he'd recognize me; he's a neighbor that used to greet me every day. Sure enough, he lifted his head and gave me a nod and a wave. He probably does that to everyone, but it warmed my heart anyway. A few blocks further, I ran into the whole Olsen clan, coming back from the church plant potluck. The three oldest kids ran up and gave me hugs. I asked Angelina for a hug and she climbed into my arms to be held. She's started talking lots more since I left, and as soon as I was holding her, she started chattering about the moose that I'd given her when she turned one. They were walking down my street, so I walked half a block with them but had to say goodbye when we got to my house. I gave Angelina back to her mom and got more hugs from the other kids. It doesn't get any easier to say goodbye.

I love those Olsen kids. I love my Philly friends. And though it was fun, it was also so hard to see all of them this weekend because it meant having to say goodbye all over again. Because for some reason I can't explain, I know I need to be in New York right now.

Everybody knows It sucks to grow up
And everybody does It's so weird to be back here....

I did all this ridiculous stuff over the weekend. Probably dumb stuff but man, I had such a great time doing it. A pumpkin patch. Indian hiphop. Corn maze. Pumpkin drinks. Creating costumes. Spiking cider. Mulling wine. Stuff I love to do, and stuff I haven't done since I moved to New York.

I have four friends in New York, two of them are my brothers. It feels pretty different from Philly. I know it'll come with time. I know I need to be patient. And I know it's part of growing up. But it sucks to grow up. Ellen texted me when I got back to the city this weekend to ask me how Philly was.

Good. Weird. Fun. Hard. All in one fell swoop. -- was my reply.

And that's exactly what it was. Incredibly amazing and ridiculously hard, all at the same time. Because I want so badly to be there and know so clearly that I can't be right now. It doesn't make sense to me; that's just the way it is. I guess it's part of growing up? And everybody knows...
It sucks to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it...

I'm still fighting it; I just don't want to grow up. I guess I thought when I grew up I'd be all settled down and be near my family and surrounded by my friends. I never thought my family would be spread along the eastern seaboard and my friends would be scattered around the world.

Ben Folds knows what he's talking about. That's all I have to say 'bout that!