Alright, this is the last time that I’ll ever mention this…just a beef I have with our restaurant culture that came upon us seemingly out of nowhere (like that Dane Cook guy). Since when am I supposed to expect a lemon in my water? Seriously! I can’t stand it! I ask for water and it’s automatically garnished! When did this happen? Was there some sort of meeting of the collective restaurant minds that spawned this sudden dogmatic principle that states water can no longer be just water? I can understand the general idea behind this phenomenon, but all of the sudden it applies to everyone without even a question as if we’re all wired the same way. What if every time you got an oil change, the mechanic painted a racing stripe on your car because he thought it looked cool? Or if you got a haircut and the stylist dyed your blonde roots brown because ‘the majority of her customers like it that way.’

This wouldn’t get accepted nearly as easily in any other part of society, but somehow this little trend slipped through the cracks. Maybe I’m the only one who is perturbed by it, but when I’m out at a restaurant I have to order ‘plain water’. PLAIN WATER! What’s more plain than water? But if I fail to specify, I end up getting some poor man’s Gatorade. This wasn’t the case five years ago, but nowadays it’s standard. Sure, a lemon in water may have health benefits…so does running but you don’t see everyone doing it. It may be tasty to some…but we all have different taste buds. Water is just fine as is. It doesn’t need a spritz of anything. And who decided lemon was the way to go? Why not an orange slice or grapefruit? Or how about a tomato? I hear they’re healthy.

I would just appreciate it if my servers would ask for my preference. Like so many other things in life, options should be given upon request and not assumed. I had to get this off my chest and I’ll try, real hard, not to bring this up anymore but it’s tough when it occurs every time I dine out. Now, can I get a Diet Vanilla Black Cherry Coca Cola Classic with Lime please?

We encounter the unbelievable on a regular basis: the tropical fish that can survive out of water for months at a time, the child born with eight limbs, the man that ate his way through an entire car, rust and all.

Lorraine is 95 years old. She is slumped in a wheelchair now, but her body holds the residue of soft fluid lines, shoulder to hip, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Arms hang akimbo, each jutted in a slightly different direction. Her hair is swept around at the nape of her neck in a soft bun; her mouth, down-turned at the edges and mostly unresponsive. But her eyes, those gray eyes were sharp. And they cut me that day.

When I opened the waiting room door to wheel her into the examination room, she surprised me with the unbelievable. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, struggled to raise her neck, and looked up, her eyes unclouded.

“You know, I was a dancer once,” she said. She shifted her gaze to her spindly legs, mere straw shafts under loose fitting stretch pants. Her metal cane made a hollow scraping noise against the spokes of the wheelchair as we turned a corner. “I began dancing when I was seventy-five years old. My children and grandchildren had grown up and I realized it was time to do what I was created to do. I was just a little bit late.”

The joy moving over her face was unbridled. No longer was she 95 and wheelchair-bound, reserved and uncertain. All signs of anxiety visibly drained from her face as she stopped to remember the pirouettes and petit allegros. She had known what she wanted and went after it. Recklessly.

What’s holding us back from living a life of such complete reckless abandonment, a life that is so filled with the passion and drive that we only look to the future, rather than becoming weighed down with the past? What’s it going to take for us to make bold moves for God outside of the normal routine? For us as a generation to rise up and execute a peaceful revolution, one grounded in God’s love, grace, and faithfulness?

I think part of it lies in understanding what God created each of us to do.

So often I forget that God has a unique plan for each one of us, one that allows for the dual purpose of serving Him in heaven and His people here on earth; a plan that allows us to use our His gifts for His glory, no matter the talent; a plan that will bring us unspeakable joy just by following His cues.

Why then do we have such a hard time grasping all that God wants to give to us?
This is a call for action: for the artists, the number-crunchers, the musicians, the handymen (and women), the teachers, the socialites, the librarians, the computer scientists and the political scientists alike. For the weary and the strong, the shy and the outspoken, the healed and the broken.

Embrace the talent that God has instilled in you. Use it to bring glory to His name, to reach out to each other, to form lines of mutual understanding and edification.

Don’t give into the unbelievable– dance recklessly, arms flailing and head bobbing. Know the song that’s on the tip of your tongue. Sing it boldly, just as you were created to do.