Down This Beaten Path

Making Amends

2011-01-09T21:19:00.000-08:00

I still struggle with the purpose of this blog, and with what to hash out here in the public eye. But one thing is for sure: It can easily seem, at times, that I am pointing to all they things that others have done in my life to make me the way I am. Please know that is not my intent. I am a life "shaped by the addictions of others" and I can't erase that, so won't erase it from this blog. But my life, and my experiences, most of all my choices; these are my own.

I think some of my writers block is that the true purpose of this blog is to focus on that great big mirror that keeps me aware of all the big bad ugly that can still pop up from the recesses of my own heart, and it is hard to want to be that honest in a place that doesn't always feel safe. Either way, I would like to start moving in that direction. I have a little project that I hope to accomplish this year, and that is wrapping up some of the amends I have failed to make with others, and with myself. I have done much to acknowledge them, and little to follow through. It is time.

I have decided I will share snippets of that here. More later. Stay tuned.

Word Exchange

2010-10-14T20:35:00.000-07:00

Words, words, words;

I worship The Word, and all others beside.

Words as flashlights: the smallest of guides in a dark place.

Words as pegs to connect the dots.

Words to sit on and rest awhile.

Words to press and poke and propel.

Words that strip the membranes.

Words that anchor.

Words from my lover, my friends.

Words from a Liar.

I worship the words.

The words carry me through.

But...

Sometimes there are no words.

There is only grief.

There are chokes and sobs and groans; and they are adequate.

I shudder at your words.

Leave me alone.

Let me offer my tears to those I love; to the lives lost and otherwise damaged.

Let me feel the despair in every organ.

Let me agree that it does seem hopeless; death seems a relief.

Let me scream! They are so helpless!!

I will rejoice again.

I will remember that even while I glimpse and grieve, my view is from solid ground.

I will continue to walk through the carnage and look for survivors.

I will be found on the path of life.

But for now I am surrendered to this wordless grief.

I have not been to this place in awhile because I have been without words; without understanding. I have spoken few words to those who trouble my heart. I have realized that words fail me in these matters and mine would be cheap offerings to the ones I love. I am turned off by the cheap words of others; even the most kind from the most beloved. Words are not enough and so I grow weary talking about it.

The grief helps me to remember. I am grateful to know a portion of the pain and despair that drives me to my knees. If I did not, I would grow callous. I do grow callous much too often. So many lives lost; so many innocents being surrendered to addictions of all sorts. I pray I never forget.

I am grieving for many tonight, but especially for my mother, father, and brother who all seem too far gone sometimes. I'm grateful for your prayers.

I am also grateful to link up with others attempting imperfect prose each week, who challenged me to wrestle these things into words tonight.

Late Night Phone Call

2010-06-06T08:08:00.000-07:00

My (not so) baby brother called me this week. I missed the call and hurried to call him back quickly because it was later at night and well, he never calls me. I just knew something terrible had happened.

He just wanted to talk. His voice was thick with held back tears, hoarse with tears he had already cried. He was inviting me in on a moment of complete brokenness. I cried with him, struggled for the right words to say, and marveled at the maturity he has that no one seems to notice.

He reminiced about a time when life was really hard for us, but sweet for him because he said we "really stuck together" and watched out for each other. He said I was his hero. I wish I could say I deserve that praise.

I don't know why I felt the need to take note of it, but I do. There have been a handful of moments in his life where I have witnessed this kind of surrender and just flat out heartbreaking grief. All of them are etched into my mind deeply. It really does stop time for a minute when I get a glimpse into the burdens he carries- all alone. I'm plowed down by all of the ways this youngest child got left behind and jilted more than the rest of us. He must feel so lonely and abandoned, but who am I to say?

I am struck by the love I feel for him, for both of my brothers actually. I am terrified by the inability I feel to express it. We struggle so much, the three of us. There is the unmistakable bond of siblings and of the need to weather the storm together, or at least to look to each other for the missing pieces of the puzzle in each of our own lives. There is the long history of having no idea how to do this in a "normal", functional way. Growing up the primary coping skill was silence and isolation, especially from each other.

I don't have much else to say about it, or any way to make sense of it. I just felt the need to start marking moments like this more often.

If you are reading this, please say a prayer for my sweet brothers. And for me, that I can love them better.

More Thoughts on Dealing With Relapse

2010-04-19T17:04:00.000-07:00

Today my suspicions were confirmed. I found out that my mom has relapsed in the past week.

I'm not really to a point where I have a lot to say about it. I hesitate to mention it at all because, while I don't feel responsible to keep her secrets, I also want to try to respect her privacy as much as I can. Still, I think I have enough anonimity to say that much. (I hope.) But no details beyond that.

As for me, I'm doing okay in this moment. Plenty of thoughts and emotions to process but it feels like directing traffic, butterfly traffic if you will. Little flitters, nothing that is knocking me off my feet. Still I had some initial thoughts that I thought I would get down. This probably won't be a pointed or well organized post- like I have many of those anyway! I guess at this stage this blog will serve more like a travellers log. So here goes.

1. It is true that I wrote a long emotional post about the hurt and rejection and dissapointment I might feel if this should happen. I can't deny that those feelings are not present in some small way right now. But like I said, it feels more like flutters- ripples in the water. No earthquakes. This has been true so many times in my life. Usually when I can admit the fears and thoughts (rational or otherwise) out loud, from that point on there is a huge sense of freedom from them. They still register, but they don't consume me.

2. I was able to act fast and confront her. No keeping secrets and stewing in silence as I have so often in my life, inprisoned by any number of fears and codependent tendencies. Over the past several months I have been able to set some boundaries in my head, and essentially have a plan as to how I would react in this situation. Man did that make things easier. Wow. No time to second guess myself or be pulled along by conflicting emotions in the moment.

3. I mentioned in my last post that my desire is reconsilation. But I also said that the time might come where I would have to be willing to change course and set some new boundaries. This is the time. By the way, if I perplex you with all of this talk of boundaries, I highly recommend the book Boundaries by Dr.'s Henry Cloud and John Townsend. It is relevant for everyone I think. You can also view videos and clips from Could and Townsend here at the ACOA blog. I have also found this illustration of boundaries so helpful, given by Amy at "Guess What Normal Is." Here is a quote from her:

"The word boundary makes me think of a wall, or fortress. BOUNDARY. I wish the word were less solid. Something more like the word veil, screen, or shade. I like "shade." Shade is a natural entity, and it moves according to the sun's position. You don't always know where you'll find shade. Boundaries are like that. They're not solid and impenetrable. Boundaries are more like shade, moving as the sun crosses, as our position switches. Shade, like our boundaries, is in flux. Depending on our mood, our trust levels, the other individuals involved, the time of day, the time of life, etc., our boundaries morph and sometimes grow wide and other times shrink smaller."

This really sums up a lot of how I am feeling now.

4. I also mentioned before that at times it seems I can see my mom's relapse coming before she does. I am rarely wrong. I know it seems strange in some ways. It is also a source of great conflict for me because all of my life I have heard my mom say things to the effect that one of the reasons she can't stay sober is because everyone expects her to mess up anyway. So I often still feel that tug of guilt and wonder if that is true. It happened today. She did not want me to tell my husband what happened for fear of what it would mean to a newly restored relationship between them. When I told her absolutely not, she told me that "it is stuff like that that keeps her messed up". I have heard it again and again and again. I believed it for a long time. And it is still very tempting to blame/torture myself for not believing in her, or not supporting her. I know in my head that it is not true at all. It is one of the subtle manipulations that gives addiction such a foothold. But it still makes me wonder. Why do I always seem to be able to predict it? It effects the way I treat her, and she can sense the shift. Is it possible that I contribute in some way? Can I handle it better? Would it help to confront her with my concerns before it gets to that point? Am I enabling her in some way by keeping my mouth shut and stewing in silence, just wating for her relapse? These are just questions. I don't really think I can do anything differently to the point of altering her steps. I know can't take responsibility for her actions and I try really hard not to. I think I do a pretty good job most of the time. Still, these thoughts have been on my mind more than anything today. And here is what I think: I think it is fair to say that I can see it coming. Because I think that relapse can happen in the mind long before any actions are taken. I think if you are close to someone, you are very likely to see it coming before they do. Especially because taking steps towards relapse means that denial is present. So it seems important to make that distinction. I am not beating myself up today. I am still wondering exactly what to do with this fact though. I try really hard to maintain a certain distance because it is still way to easy for me to take an unhealthy investment in her recovery. But is it really beneficial for anyone for me to keep my mouth shut when I start to have concerns or suspicions? I don't think so. I also don't know a good alternative. Yet. I believe that in allowing myself to ask the question, I have an opportunity for better understanding. God tends to work that way in my experience.

So that is where I am at right now. I've got to leave it at that and get back to the most important things, like making chocolate milk for my sweet girl.

How Do You Forgive Those Who Continue to Hurt You? (Part Two)

2010-04-14T11:12:00.000-07:00

I wanted to follow up on this post.

My mom is really only one example of how this process has played out in my life. There are many others in my life that I have walked this road with, and all have looked a little bit different.

So let me tell you a little about my dad, just to widen the picture. My parents divorced when I was very young, 3 or 4 maybe? My dad was still in my life quite a bit. My mom had full custody but there were no court battles or strict rules. My mother was also a child of divorce and her experiences gave her the very strong conviction that our dad would be in our life as much or as little as we would like, for better or for worse. It is hard to try to explain the nature of my relationship with my dad without trying to dive into a lot of snapshot memories and details.

But like I said, he was in my life pretty consistently when I was young. At about age 10, he remarried and surprised everyone a bit when he took my mom to court trying to get custody of us. I didn't know a lot of what happened until much later, but it is my understanding that he did not play nice. As a preteen, things got a little hairy with my mom for awhile and we actually went to live with my dad for a couple of weeks. At this time, he really took it up a notch and got aggressive in trying to gain custody of us. I did not want this at all. It was probably one of the most stressful times in my life. My dad did not gain custody in the end. My mom's addiction continued to progress rapidly, and at the time my older brother's growing addiction and mental illness were also making for a really stressful and scary time in my life. But regardless of that, I was very relieved. No part of me wanted to live with my dad. Again, here is where I could give more details but whew, I wouldn't know where to start. Shortly after that, my dad moved to another state and was out of my life. In a period of about 5 years, I heard from him a handful of times. This was a difficult time because I did feel rejected in some way, and I did feel that void of not having a father. However, looking back I didn't really miss my dad so much. I just missed the idea of him. Fast forward a few years. I was now in college, about to be married, when he came back into my life. He came back with a lot of expecations too. He wanted to make amends and have a relationship with me. Sounds good right? Well, no. It wasn't. He did not want it for my benefit. He wanted it for his. To soothe his guilt and remorse. I saw no genuine evidence of him truly wanting to know me or make amends with me. He had no intention of altering his behaviors at all, which I thought were extremly damaging to him and to my other siblings. He just wanted my forgiveness.

Well I wanted no part of it. And I got mad about it all. Really mad. It was perfect timing because I was just discovering how good it felt to be angry, a feeling I had always stuffed and rarely allowed myself to feel over the years. Now I found it intoxicating. It was much more manageable than being depresssed, or so it seemed. So I can admit that my dad became a target for a lot of anger and blame that had nothing to do with him. But I still had plenty that I could be angry with him about- on my behalf and also on the the behalf of my siblings. My blood can still boil easily just to think about some of it. Eventually the anger did start to eat me alive though, and I felt God leading me to forgive him. It was one of those times where there was no gentle prompting. God seemed to be screaming it at me in every arena. And I was screaming back. How? I don't know how!

Eventually I felt like I was able to. I realized that I wasn't be asked to love him in the way that was being demanded of me. I was just being asked to forgive. To let it go. I couldn't love him the way I was expected. Too much damage had been done. He had violated me as well, in multiple ways. And he was continuing to do so with his manipulations and demands for my affections and forgiveness. God gently reminded me of how much He loved my dad. Somehow it freed me from the responsibility to do the same. I wasn't being asked to reconcile, or to put myself in a position to allow him to continue to hurt me. Because he would. He had no intention of changing his actions from what I saw. So I was free to maintain my distance and not permit his actions to hurt me. It was okay to still be angry at the ways that he continued to hurt my siblings. And I still get angry. A lot.

But I have to let it go. I have to continue to forgive. I don't have to accept his behavior. But in offering forgiveness to him, I am free from the ways that it can cause me to stumble. I have been able to set boundaries that don't allow him to hurt me anymore. I can truly say that. And slowly but surely I try to extend grace and show love in the small ways that I am able in my brokenness. It is not much, but it is progress in the right direction I think. Still, our relationship does not amount to much. It might never on this side of Heaven. And mostly I feel at peace about that. Offering forgiveness has not brought about reconsiliation, because that takes two. But it does bring about freedom in my own life and I believe it gives God the freedom to continue to work in his life as well.

So to me, that is a key distinction: reconsiliation. It is different from finding forgiveness. And I think my last post was really about finding reconsiliation with my mom. Like with my dad, I have walked the path of forgiveness with my mom and experienced much healing and freedom as a result. But right now I still feel like reconsiliation with my mom is a possibility. It is still something I desire, even if it seems crazy to some. And it does. There are many who love and want to protect me who probably wish I would just let it go and give up on the idea. But I am not ready to do that. And right now I feel like God is walking this road with me and offering His grace and strength to keep going. It is painful. It is messy. But it is good. And I have the example of Christ, who was willing to do the same (and much more) to be reconsiled with us. That is the point I was trying to make.

The time may come where I might have to alter my steps and enforce new boundaries and accept that reconsiliation with her might not come on this side of Heaven, just as I have with my dad and some others in my life. But for now I press on. She is trying. Her addiction has robbed her of much, robbed us all. But it has not taken everything. There is still so much there that I love. I think that there are still ways where she can fill that mom-sized hole in my life. Maybe not in the way it was meant be. But I will take what I can get. God can redeem and make new as long as both are willing. I do have a lot of fear, and some of those hurts are still tender and not wanting to be exposed.

But I have hope too.
Not in my ability to make things new.
But in God's ability.

That is a very important distinction, and something that has changed over the years.

How Do You Forgive Those Who Continue to Hurt You?

2010-04-09T06:55:00.000-07:00

Updated: I followed up on this post here.

It is a question I hear a lot. One I have asked a lot. I am not sure I have the answer but it is the question that comes to mind as I finish up this post.

Several months ago, I wrote this post about me and my mom. I can't know for sure who even read it. I think I get a pretty small audience here and that is okay. But either way, I have yet to really follow up on it; both here and with those I live life with. I jotted down a few thoughts a couple of weeks after, which might add a little more to the picture if you are like me and must drink in every detail available as you read.

Anyway, all that to say that a lot has happened in our relationship in the past few months and I have wanted to share but I have struggled. Again. Always. There is a lot I could say. A lot I can't really say, for it is not all my story to tell. But I'll try to catch you up a little and tell you where I am at right now.

I started with finally being able to admit to some of the hurt and violation I felt from her, after years of being fearful to. I prepared to dive in and wade through some serious hurt and pain for awhile. But that is not really what happened. Instead, three weeks later, I was inviting her back into our home to stay for an indefinite amount of time.

Here is the part where details must go a bit fuzzy. But if I had to explain what happened, it is this: I challenged my fear. My fear of hurting her and causing her to stumble. My fear of embracing the bad and letting go of any good I had clung to for sustenance. With a lot of help, I was able to take the steps I had so carefully avoided for years. And while I still found fear trying to creep back in, mostly I felt free. I felt free from anger and resentment. I felt free from guilt and obligation. Once again, the hurts and the ugliness and all the pain did not seem so big and powerful after I was willing to release them.

I also realized that in my mom, I had a rare gift. I knew she would listen to me. I knew she would try to repair. I knew she wanted to change and that she didn't want to hurt me anymore. So with more courage we talked and we both found some redemption I think. It would have never happened if not for her nearness. Otherwise I would have been able to continue to avoid and ignore.

So she came to live with us for awhile. It seemed crazy. I was afraid. But I also felt God's leading and His peace more than anything. It was hard at times. But it was really good. It was a time of mutual help. We both had to continue to have hard conversations and they all resulted in a lot of peace and blessing. She continued to do well in her recovery and I was proud of her. God was blessing her and I saw Him answering very specific prayers in front of my eyes- prayers I had been praying for years. Prayers I had given up on in my disbelief. Mom told my husband that we had "loved life back into her."

But I was still struggling with fear and anger. I still am. Which is why I am writing this now. I struggle to believe that things will stay good. And they may not. But one day I heard His voice in the shower and was convicted. God has answered my prayers. Period. It is up to the both of us what we do with it, and very likely either one of us could squander away those blessing very easily. But it doesn't change what He has done. I have had to cling to that again and again.

While she was staying here, my anger flared often because there is still a big part of me that resists any reliance on her. And I had put myself in a position where I was very reliant on her even though I tried my best not to be. Also, she continued to violate some boundaries despite me trying to communicate that to her. Eventually the living arrangement was a bit too much to bear. It was no longer beneficial. So she moved on and has continued to walk in recovery. It was good for me, and I hope for her. She is still around and we see her often. And now I find my anger returns. I find small reasons to be angry and annoyed. It is a shield. I am afriad.

I can't let go of the feeling that the bottom has to fall out again sometime. She has always had the power to dissapoint and hurt me like no other because she has always held my biggest affections no matter what. Now she holds the affections of my babies, my husband. (I never thought I would see that day!). Now more than ever there is more exposed. For years I didn't know how to feel, or at least how to do it appropriately. Now I feel everything more extremely. Now that I have some hope and healing to cling to in my relationship with my mom, I also feel like I have that much more to lose. So many hurts have been healed. But the scars still remain. Just like the one on my abdomen that brought my sweet girl into the world- it is fully healed but still so tender when you push on it in the right way.

Lately the fear has become bigger and bigger. I can't shake the feeling that she will relapse. I feel like she is withdrawing. After years of riding the ride with her and knowing her most intimate thoughts, often I can see it before she can. I have dreams too. In the past these dreams have been predictive. At times I feel like in some way over the years God has often given me these warnings, both with my mom and with others. "The storm is coming child, but hang on tight to me." And I usually do. I suppose I will again. But this time I feel ripped open at the thought. The additional walls of self protection have been crumbling for awhile now so I know it will hurt more. I also feel like I betray God and his faithfulness in my doubt and fear. Is it all in my head? I don't know.

Saturday night before Easter, I sat in the pantry and sobbed while everyone else slept and thought about all these things. I was at least grateful to recognize why I was feeling the way I was- to admit that the rejection I had felt from my husband earlier was not real, but only a reflection of the rejection I feared from her. The truth is I don't know what will happen. I may be right. I may very likely have to face the hurt and dissapointment of relapse again. And now I will have to try to find some way to walk my girls through it too. I hope not. God is good. He is so good. But he also allows us to walk away from his goodness and she might do that for awhile.

The question is will I? Will I still cling to Him when it hurts like hell? Will I still follow Him when I leave myself so exposed? Jesus did. Jesus made himself vulnerable in ways that I will never fully know. It didn't stop him. And in his willingness, God's plan was completed.

So this year, the hope and story of Easter was a firm place to stand more than it has ever been. I am still afraid. The tears still flow freely, and the pain around those healing scars is still sharp. But I know I can cling to Him and that my hurt and vulnerability will never be as big as his was on our behalf. Walking in love and forgiveness hurts. It is not a fix-all. It is even more painful at times. But we are still called to do it. And most importantly we are promised that we won't walk alone.

Deuteronomy 31:6

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."

In His Embrace

2010-03-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

Her baby wails bounce off the walls of our small house and I look at the clock. He is still up with her. He's been at it for awhile. I lay there hoping it will stop and when it doesn't I'm annoyed at the hour. He will not get back to bed for any extra sleep before work. If I get up, I won't get back to bed either and my day will start much earlier than expected. I get out of bed to take my turn. I don't feel tired now but I still feel that sense of panic as I anticipate how tired I will be later, and am quickly overwhelmed by the day's tasks. As I attempt to lull her back to sleep, I am prayerful. "Whatever the day brings Lord, just guide me. Give me strength."

I too am unsuccessful. She wants to sleep but she fights. Then the switch is flipped. I am no longer calm and prayerful. I am frustrated, angry. I can no longer hold her for fear of the gentleness I lack. I take her back to him and collapse on the bed.

She wails. I sob. I feel the tremendous weight of Failure as it presses against me, whispering its lies. It's another wave of depression, I am aware. But I no longer want to stand and let it pass. I'm angry. Depression. I hate that word. What does it mean really? What does it change? Am I just supposed to be at the constant mercy of this thief who shows up anytime he feels like it to steal away my moments, my joy?

"Fight it" says the voice in my head. "Surrender". "Share. Don't let it isolate you." More voices. I want to yell back. Isn't that what I do? All the time?! All the freakin time! I'm tired. I put myself out there and I feel like I get nothing back. It's old news at this point. I can't help but wonder what people think. Am I met with love and understanding or am I simply tolerated? Is it really of benefit to share my struggles? I wonder. Self Pity has been invited so he sits down for awhile too.

I continue to cry out to God: Help. I'm tired. I can't. Take it all away. Why? My job is Mother but moments like this I want to be the child I was never allowed to be. I want to be held, cared for. I want to be heard. I want to feel cherished. I want the acknowledgement of a parent who sees my tears and knows my hurts better than I do. Is it really that simple? Yes. God, is that too much to ask? Can you indulge your selfish, needy child for a bit?

I am quiet now. She is quiet too. He lays her down and crawls back into bed. I wonder why because I know he needs to be leaving for work. He pushes sleeping dog mounds aside to embrace me. He tries to make me laugh. Normally this would add to my anger but I can't help but smile. He holds me, strokes my hair, rubs my back. He doesn't know in that moment that he is truly the hands and feet of Christ, holding me in the way I was just asking for.

I hear my Father's voice. "No child, it is not too much to ask. It never is."

I fall back to sleep and when I wake this very small storm has passed. I'm ready to face the day again. Her sweet baby cries now make me smile and I want to drink her up, her smiles and her cuddles. The past couple of hours are a distant blur. It is almost not worth mentioning. Except that it is. His love is great. I am so grateful.

"The Lord your God is with you,

he is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you,

he will quiet you with his love,

he will rejoice over you with singing."

Zephaniah 3:17

Shot in the Dark

2010-02-22T13:56:00.000-08:00

The other day I very unexpectedly lost my temper with my sweet girl. Not that I haven't had a history of that, but for awhile now I have been keeping much better tabs on it. It was a simple scenario. I snapped at her. It was over such a slight annoyance too. I think it caught us both of guard. Later I told her that I was sorry I yelled at her, and asked her forgiveness. She was putting on her boots (finally!) and looked up at me, with twinkling blue eyes and emerging freckles. She cocked her head with confidence, a slight look of laughter, and in her eyes just the slightest hint of question as she said "It wasn't my fault?"

"Yes", I said with a smile, "It wasn't your fault." We continued with our familiar scene. I admit my fault. She forgives. Even though we've already covered it today, I take a minute to explain that my yelling is my lack of self control.

It was an extraordinary moment to me, and it didn't even hit me until about an hour later. I was driving down the street and suddenly choking with tears.
See, I have spent a lifetime feeling responsible for my parent's shortcomings. Almost thirty years later, I finally get that, but I am still not sure I could look up with such confidence and say "It's not my fault." And as a mother I know I am not alone when I feel like the things I do wrong pile is a whole lot bigger than the things I do right pile. But in addition to that, most of the time I feel like I am only guessing at what I am supposed to be doing to give my children a happy and healthy sense of self. Granted, I might be able to make some well-informed guesses at times. But gosh, it really feels like a shot in the dark most of the time. So moments like that are so sweet and worth writing down.

Maybe, just maybe I am getting a few very important things right.

On Love and Trust: How I Manage to Make it Even More Difficult

2010-02-16T18:49:00.000-08:00

This blog could (should) be really hopping lately. I have plenty I could be writing about, and probably need to be writing about for my own benefit. Blogging is such a luxury these days! Do I still spend tons of time on the computer? Yes. Probably too much. Do I have the time to collect more than one thought at a time and then manage to communicate them in a readable way? Rarely.

But I really am going to try to start finding the time. I will update about how things have been with my mom, and have lots to share there. At the same time, I can feel myself going through another difficult season. It is always hard to really know what the cause is, and I am having a hard time understanding what is going on with me right now. But the evidence is there in my knotted shoulders, the constant pounding of my head, and in my growing irritability. I have an idea, but mostly feel kind of lost right now. I do know that it is God at work stirring things up and that the end result will be more healing and healthier relationships. But right now that is probably all I can say about it.

Blah, blah, blah. Ramble, ramble, ramble. :)

I did stumble across a blog the other day that has really been helpful to me. I guess I have never mentioned it yet- I tend to still have the habit of assuming that everyone else is privy to the knowledge in my head somehow- but there is a term for someone like me. I am an "adult child of an alchoholic". Yep, we have our own category. And rightly so. Some people prefer to shrug off the labels and terminology and while I can see how it might cause some to stumble, I personally found it very helpful and validating to realize that there were others like me, with similar struggles. Duh! That is what you might be thinking... But it was life-changing for me at the time.

Anyway, Amy is the author of this incredible blog and really gives a voice to ACOA'S. I wanted to share part of a post she wrote called "If You Love Someone with Alcoholic Parents" (Which includes many of you, who happen to love me so well. Thanks for that.) You can read the whole post for some more description/explanation but here I wanted to highlight some of the common things about ACOA's that can be wonderful but also a bit puzzling to those who know and love us.

We Have a Soft Core, But a Steel Wrapper

We are extremely sensitive people and we are very sensitive to other people--all people, including strangers. And animals! We feel other people's feelings. This makes us great listeners and really compassionate people. The problem is, we often forget to honor our own feelings because we make the mistake of prioritizing the feelings of others first way too often. Yet, because we were raised in chaotic environments in which we had to be ready at any moment for a family battle, our sensitivity is hidden in a hard-to-get-at steel wrapper.

It's hard to get at our soft centers, but not impossible. And worth the effort!

We Are Loyal

Too loyal. Once we know someone, we always have their best interest in mind, and will defend them against all harm to the full extent of our abilities. We're kind of like big, protective brothers in that regard. Unfortunately, because we are so loyal, we sometimes make the mistake of staying loyal to a person or situation (or job) that doesn't deserve our fantastic loyalty.

Trust is Difficult for Us

This is one of those "it's not you, it's me" deals. We find it almost impossible to trust people. That's not because you're not trustworthy, by the way (though if your self-esteem is low, you may make the mistake of thinking our trust issues are about you). It's because we grew up in such unstable, inconsistent environments--we were, essentially, trained not to trust. (Years ago, my father yelled at me, "There is no safety in the world, and no one deserves safety from this world.")
If you were to evaluate us based solely on our upbringing, you'd come to the conclusion that we were raised for battle--to be on-edge and 'ready' at all times for chaos to break. We had, and many of us still have, a lot more cortisol (the stress chemical) running through our bodies as children than all other kids. Kids who were raised in consistent environments could relax and enjoy their childhoods because people behaved in predictable ways. But us--we always played with one eye watching the horizon.

We Can't Truly Relax Very Often

(But we're working on that!) Because of the chaos always about to strike in our households, we've always got one hand on our sword. Even if we look relaxed, even if we appear to be laughing without a care in the world, we're still ready to steel ourselves against the attack of a drunken parent's words upon returning home--or for you to turn on us (again, we don't really think you will, but we were raised to expect it).

We Appreciate Patience

We wish you would be really, really patient with us. As smart as we may be, sometimes, when it comes to emotions, it takes us a while to sort out how we feel. It might seem like a simple thing, to know how you feel...but it's not always obvious to us. The same goes for what we want to do today...we need time to sort out what we think you want from us versus what we want for us. It's sometimes an effort for us to remember what we like to do.

We Don't Like to Be Told What to Do

We don't particularly like to be told what to do. We don't handle that well, because we have no learned respect for authority figures, because we're stubborn, insecure, and we seek approval constantly(well, depending on our level of self-improvement, that is!) No matter what you do, we're probably going to interpret what you say as if you're (a) criticizing us and/or (b) telling us what to do.

It's the job of an ACoA, of course, to learn to cope with this issue, so as not to take everything personally, because it causes us a lot of pain. However, while we're working on that, there are some tricks you can use to side-step the issue.

Instead of saying, "You should..." Say, "I would..." instead.
Instead of saying, "Why are you...trying to carry all the bags at once?" Say, "Let me help you with those..." Or, "You'll still be a champion, even if you make two or three trips to carry those in." (Again, sneak in some humor and loving kindness.)

It Takes Us A While to Pull Ourselves Up Again

Sometimes, after a hurt or personal setback, we will need to mentally, emotionally, or verbally piece ourselves back together again (or all three). What I mean is that if we experience a setback or hurt of some sort that we're not quick to bounce back like other people are. We will often need to go through an emotional process in order to cope with the event, before finally coming to the conclusion that we can recover and move on. (If we'd had parents who had given us the space and opportunity to be upset and helped us process our feelings and resolve them, it would be a much faster process for us as adults.)

We Need Laughter, Desperately

We wish that you would laugh at us more (but laughing with us is good, too).
We don't really want you to laugh at us, in a mean way, but in a loving way--so that we can laugh at ourselves. We really, really need to learn to laugh at ourselves. We just first need a very safe, loving space in which to do it. Laughter is healing. What makes a safe and loving environment? Well, if we do something "typical," and you poke fun, and smile, then hug or kiss us and say you love that about us, then that's cool. The exaggeration technique works well. Like, say you said this to your girlfriend or boyfriend, "You realize that you're not going to fit all those shoes and jeans in that suitcase, right?" And your love shoots you a hurt+angry look because he or she interprets your comment as, "You are greedy to want to take all that on the trip, and you are dumb to be trying to make it work." But, because he/she is an ACoA, he/she really believes that all the stuff will fit, even if that defies physics and gravity. We're stubborn. So you say something like this instead: "I sure hope you're going to try to pack my clothes in there too, and the cat, more hangers, a frozen pizza, a few more pairs of shoes, and...." (You get the idea.) Play to their determination, make it funny. Again, exaggerate.

Anyway, I thought it would be fitting to start by sharing this with all of you, as I take the next few posts to hash out and process some things that are brewing. I can really relate to almost everything Amy wrote, but relate most strongly to the parts about needing patience, a safe environment, and just a little more time to unpack things. I can also add that most often I respond negatively to criticism because I am already so critical of myself that I cannot stand to hear it from anyone else, especially someone who might not understand it fully or be trustworthy to me.

Trust is still the biggest issue for me and I have a lot of trustworthy people in my life now! I am surrounded by them. But sometimes that trust is violated in different, and much less obvious ways. For example, most often I struggle with feeling like I have really opened myself up to someone and one of two things happens: 1. They just don't get it, and it is obvious by all of the stupid things they try to say to compensate for it or 2. They listen and nod and invite you into a sense of intimacy and then later when having another conversation, you realize that you weren't really heard at all. Or at least if you were, it wasn't important enough for that person to remember. To me, that feels like a betrayal on a whole new level. And so I really struggle with this, even though I know that I am the one who needs to work on it. It is my issue, and my false expectations that put me in that position. Still, sometimes I feel a bit lonely and still tend to be a little self protective because of it.

Anyway, it was helpful to be reminded that I am a sort of "special breed". I am certainly not alone, but there are some qualities that are unique to a group of people who really did grow up on a battlefield. Too often I hope for someone to just come along and "get me" instead of taking the time to really understand and explain it better. I will try to do a better job of that. So thanks again to Amy who did my job for me tonight. And thanks to all of you who really do love and support me. It really means more than I will ever be able to say.

Still Standing

2009-11-30T13:41:00.000-08:00

My depression set in while I was in high school, pretty hard and fast. Although it was years before I was willing to admit it and move forward. Back then I think my depression was very understandable and expected, at least in retrospect. It was an accumulation of hurts, dissapointments, fears, frustrations, and violations that could no longer be stuffed down.   And it subsided significantly when I finally waded through some of it and started healing.

It didn't go away though. I continued to struggle with depression and still do. For a while the biggest trigger was being overwhelmed and/or feeling out of control. Again, once on the other side of things I could see a pattern and it has helped me tremendously.

Still, sometimes there is no rhyme or reason. And I do love to look for one. After all,  if I can find the reason, then I can find the solution right? The depression hits very unexpectedly, and can still hit surprisingly hard. And other than maybe a crazy horomone cocktail that I am unaware of, I really can't say why.

It doesn't really matter though.   It will come and go, probably always. Maybe it is really a chemical imbalance. Maybe it is a lifetime of emotional muscle memory, where the involuntary reactions will take another lifetime to be retrained. Maybe it is just a thorn in the flesh. Most likely it is all that and more.

But my depression is no secret- old news even. Still, maybe you wonder what it looks like this side of things.

It is not so much the feeling of being in some dark pit, as David describes. I have been there. Instead it is an occasional storm passing through. Sometimes the clouds gather for awhile, but other times they roll in without warning. The waves begin to crash and soon the salty water stings my eyes.   My vision is blurred. My vision becomes my biggest hinderance.

The daily tasks that lay ahead are so big that I'm driven under the covers, clawing my way back towards sleep or anything else that seems more bearable.
The little limbs that tug and pinch and grab no longer make me laugh in delight. Instead the noise and the touch are violent and burdensome.
The unreturned phone call is the ultimate rejection.
The opposing arguement is the ultimate rebuke.
Everything around me is a testament to my failures. The stack of bills unfiled, the laundry left unfolded, the words left unspoken. I'll never find my way out from underneath the pile.

I try to rub my eyes, clean the up so I can see again. I read the scriptures, I count my blessings, do all those things that I can usually rely on to sharpen my vision and allow me a more clear perspective. It doesn't work.

It is not weeping and tears, but anger and frustration. It is a cold, unfeeling.

And there are voices too.

"No one really loves you."
"You'll never accomplish anything."
"At the end of the day, you are all alone."
"Sure you have blessings but you don't deserve them. See how you squander them away?"
"Things will never really change."

Usually this drives me to distraction, in the literal sense. When I feel like fighting is a lost cause, I seek solace in anything that can take my mind away from the present. I ride out the storm by burying my head in the sand. This time I have resisted the distractions a bit more. I have tried to just stand still as much as possible and keep my eyes searching for Him, even when He seems to be far from sight. I have breathed in. Breathed out. I have spoken sweetly when I felt like screaming. I have embraced when I felt like pushing away. And I don't feel a whole lot better. There is no warm fuzzies. The warm salve of gratitude has yet to penetrate. God's word seems a bit hard to digest.

But I still need the nourishment, even when it isn't easy going down. Dry toast is better than nothing. If I keep soothing the rough places with gratitude, they will soften. My girls don't need my warm fuzzies, but they do need my embrace and my attention.

And there is reward in this. My head has stayed out of the sand, and above water even. I wouldn't say I have felt the victory of fighting back, or sending my opponent running. But I didn't go anywhere either. I'm still standing. The damages are minor, at best. And well, maybe that salve is starting to penetrate. Actually, you know what- it feels pretty good.

"I waited patiently for the LORD;

he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand."
Psalm 40: 1-2

"Why do you call me, 'Lord, Lord,' and do not do what I say? I will show you what he is like who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice. He is like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built. But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck that house, it collapsed and its destruction was complete."
Luke 6: 46-49

Two Weeks

2009-11-15T19:52:00.000-08:00

So I did what I said I would and I attempted to cut ties with my mother for awhile. It went well. I organized my thoughts, wrote them down so that I would be sure to get them all out there. I didn't give her too much time to respond- Husband was standing by to take her home. But she did say that all she ever wanted was for us (her kids) to be okay. She seemed shocked. But she respected my wishes.

I told her that while I've grown a lot in other areas, that our relationship has remained off limits in a lot of ways. I told her that I could no longer ignore it. I told her that I still feel much too responsible for her recovery, much too fearful to say or do anything that would make things harder for her, and of course much too fearful to even start telling her how she has hurt me. So that leaves her not knowing, which isn't fair. She would probably like to know, and she might even do her best to make it right. It leaves me only scratching the surface. I've acknowledged some things but I am still tempted to put a spin on it, make an excuse, find some good thing to balance it out. I'm hesitant to really wade through it all because of what it will do to her, what it will do to the only resemblance of a relationship we have. Meanwhile it is eating me alive.

I told her that I needed space. I told her two weeks, no contact. I had to start somewhere. I didn't think two weeks would do it but about every five minutes I am trying to talk myself out of the "no contact" clause because it seems so harsh. So I had to start small. Two weeks are almost up. I am not sure what to do.

It has been a tremendous relief in some ways. She has been here, near me, seeking treatment. That meant daily phone calls and a constant frenzy of what she needed, and what she should do next. It meant me feeling like I had to help (she was trying right?), but also feeling very resentful of what she was expecting of me. She is anxious, and manic. She is drama. Once again I felt the force and the violation as her anxiety and her presumptions were disrupting my means of serenity. It seemed that what I thought or said didn't matter much if it didn't line up with what she thought. So a break from that has been great. Writing that last post felt like a good start. Being able to take this step with my mom has helped me to realize some other people and areas where I need to take similar actions. So that has been good.

But I hardly feel like I've gotten anything accomplished. I've spent most of the days wondering about her and if I was too harsh and if I can't find some other way. Deep down I know I can't. I need a separation for while. But every day I am wondering what is going on with her. It doesn't feel like it has accomplished much because she is never far from my thoughts. I am still plagued with guilt, burdened with responsibility to help. Especially because she is working hard to stay sober and do the work and I am proud of her.

So I am not sure what I should do. Do I keep my word and touch base with her after the two weeks? I don't know if I can trust myself to not fall right back to where I was. I don't know much of anything right now. But hopefully there is some value in getting it down on paper for now. It is this new thing I am trying.

I have been raped.

2009-11-04T14:32:00.000-08:00

I can’t stop saying it. I have been raped. It has been playing in my head for a couple of days now. It actually feel freeing to say it which is why I can't stop.

rape: an act of plunder, violent seizure, or abuse; despoliation; violation:

Of course I have not been raped in the traditional sense. (Some of you are catching your breath right now.) My apologies if I seem brutal in saying it. And I mean no disrespect to those who have lived through the physical act of rape because I really do believe that is the worse and most violent thing that could happen to anyone. But for the true definition, I have been raped- emotionally. By my mom. Well by others too, but she seems to be the most imortant one right now. I am not usind drama for effect, and must say again that I mean no disrespect. After weeks of pleading to God for some clarity and guideance, this is what I heard from that still small voice. I have been raped.

God needed to put that image of brutality in my mind to allow me to feel the freedom to be mad; to be separate; to have some room to heal. I have not allowed myself to because of the voices in my head that say I am selfish- that God calls me to show love and expects me to even when it is hard, especially when it is hard. But God does allow a divorce when such a violation has taken place and so I am finally willing to admit the brutality of it all. I am ready to cut ties for awhile. I haven’t yet. I hope to tonight. I am fearful. Satan is attacking me from all angles. But I feel such a sense of relief and freedom just at the thought of it. God has lifted the burden of responsibility. Well He has probably been trying for awhile but now I have seemed to let go long enough to realize it.

So what does the rape look like to me?

It looks like her in the bathtub, and me going to find her there. She has been gone for a few days. I was worried. I need to see that she is okay. I need her to be okay, to hug me and tell me that I will be okay. I need my mother.
She is high, on her way down. She is not okay. She is not my mother. There is another peering out through her eyes and I hardly recognize her. She is broken. She is ready to confess. She needs atonement from someone.

I sit, silently.
Speak child, I am listening.
Except I am the child.

I do listen- intently. I tell her I love her. I tell her I forgive her. I tell her it will all be okay. What she doesn’t realize is that she has just taken something precious. She has invited me into a very adult intimacy and asked me to pick up a tremendous burden. She is supposed to protect me but instead she has violently forced her world upon me. The drugs; the hatred; the sex; the rape. She blames others for where she is at so I know if I am not careful I will be to blame too. So I am careful. I sit. I listen. I offer myself to her and my devotion gives her the atonement she wants.

Now I am the one who seeks out this perverted form of intimacy because it seems to be all I can get on a consistent basis. I love it and I hate it. I am her confidant. I am helping her. But I am sacrificing something precious, and she takes it again and again, without regard to the cost. Not only does she take it, but she stomps all over it. My “love” is not enough for her. My help does not relieve her burden. I have traded my youth and my innocence to enter her world and to be close to her, and she continues to reject me. But it always comes back to some version of this scene. I sit. I listen. I tell her I love her. I tell her it will be okay.

But I am not okay.

Now the habit is so ingrained that most of our conversations start with her and her standby statement: “I need….” Immediately I am a child again. I am frozen. I feel helpless. I lay back and let her take what she wants. She doesn’t even see me. She doesn’t see that I have grown up. I have healed in the broken places, and I am strong there. This is the only broken place that remains. I have allowed her to continue her molestation because I fear what will happen to her if I take it away.

At times she is tempted to feel remorse and she must make me a child again so that she can take an opportunity to parent me- to make up for it somehow. But I am not a child. She took away my childhood and now she tries to force another version upon me. Once again it is for her benefit. For her atonement.

I can no longer be the sacrifice. The sacrifice has been made, and I am relieved of the responsibility. Praise God, I am relieved.

Doing the work

2009-10-06T20:58:00.000-07:00

There has been a lot going on. Plenty to make for a really long blog and I don't really have time or energy for it at the moment. But simply put, I've been putting action to some things that have so far only been thoughts or good intentions.

I've been defending those who can't defend themselves, stirring the pot in all kinds of ways. I've thrown out some heavy things to unsuspecting family members and become a sort of vigilante for some honesty and against what I have been calling "bull&#^!". (I usually only curse when I am very serious, and it is easier to do when I am writing.) But I guess to me that would include keeping secrets, protecting emotions, and resorting to presumptions because we are all to lazy to do the work of actually communicating in a healthy way. I've been attempting to make amends, to stand up for myself, and to meanwhile show love and support.

And I am exhausted.
It is work.
And it is a bit lonely.

I know that nothing worth having comes easily, but I guess I need a pep talk. Some of my decisions have left me doubting myself in big ways, realizing that things don't seem like such an easy solution when you actually take action and things don't go the way you expect- neat in tidy in my case. It is not a life shattering kind of doubt. Just a reminder that I can't do it all alone. So I am putting myself out there. To family, friends (God bless them- the poor unsuspecting people), and now via the blogosphere.

Anyway, this post is scattered, vague at best. Still I know I need to make it a habit. I know I will find a lot of fulfillment and clarity if I make writing more of a habit, blogging or otherwise. Maybe I'll be back with more details soon. Until then, this is all I've got.

The Girl in the Mirror

2009-08-31T13:03:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, it has always been an extreme violation for anyone else to criticize my family in any way. I could probably speculate for awhile about why and how, and even assert that it is pretty common in most family units dealing with some sort of addiction. But for now I will just say that it has always been a pretty difficult thing to deal with. The compulsion to keep that part of my life secret was in part due to shame but had a lot to do with fear of what people would say to put them down. I couldn't bear the thought of bearing any criticisms on their behalf. Again, I could speculate on a number of things that contributed to this but I do have point to get to.

In more recent years I can say with confidence that the violation hits most severely because of the commonalities I share with them. With my mom especially. For awhile it scared me and I was a bit irrational about it so I often got a lot of opposition to this opinion. But it is true.

Of all of the behaviors that can astonoish and dissapoint, to me the most consistent is the tendency to run away from all that is good into the arms of so much pain and destruction. This has defined my mother's life. I have always felt that she has had an abundance of people to love and care for her and offer support. She has had years of therapy and treatment and she knows what it takes to stay clean. I know she knows. I have heard it come from her mouth for years. In a sick, strange way she has provided some of the most significant truths and coping skills that have built a steady foundation under my feet because of it. She has always managed to keep a job, work hard, and provide for us. It is a miracle that she has not faced more legal consequences or health issues than she has. Honestly, it is a miracle that she is still alive. I don't say that carelessly either. It really is. When I look at her life and at all the wonderful people who have filled it, and at the mere preservation of the life I am certain that God has continued to seek after her and preserve her for a specific and meaningful purpose. I understood that at a young age because it really was so obvious. So it has always been the most hurtful thing as well because I just don't get it. In my mind she has all the resources anyone could ever want and she has continued to squander it away time and time again. I have told her this myself- that it feels like a slap in the face. No one's love and support seems to be enough. She rejects it, rejects us. She takes her hurts and her fears and her burdens and flees towards other lovers. She has given away so many pieces of herself over the years, I hardly recognize her sometimes. The phrase "sell your soul" really does carry a heavy meaning when you have watched someone you love do it so very many times.

And all the while, we wait. We who love her. We still hope, we still work hard to offer her what we think she needs. We look hard for glimpses of the one we love under the scars and the disguises.  At times, we have scoured motels, bars, and otherwise decended into darker places to try to find her. For years I have listened to her fears and internalized her pains and assumed her responsibilites so that I could somehow relieve the burdens and make it easier for her. And she has continued to flee, to hide. Even when she is near, she is not present. She is elusive at best. And all the while I feel incomplete without her love and affections and attentions.

In so many ways, I will never understand it.

But sometimes I think I do.

I also have an abundance of people who love and support me, and the numbers are increasing all the time. Even more important, I claim to believe in a God who loves me unconditionally and promises to give me more resources than I can ask or imagine, peace that passes understanding. I claim to believe in scriptures that are life-giving and transforming and that offer supernatural strength. I have the roles of wife and mother, two of the most blessed and fulfilling roles I could ever dream of. Even in times of hardship, I enjoy more luxuries and material blessings than anyone in my immediate family so far. I have the gifts of knowledge and wisdom beyond my years. I have loved much, learned much. I have so much to be grateful for. And most of the time, I really am grateful. So much so that it often brings me to tears. Most of the time I cherish the roles I have and try to extend the love and knowledge and grace I have been shown.

Most of the time.

But I also know how to run and hide. For a time in my life I gave away pieces of myself- big, costly pieces- to whoever wanted them. I was so eager to belong to someone or something. I strived to be good, to be smart, to be brave. But really it was enough to appear this way. I didn't really want the intelligence and the courage as much as I wanted someone to find me valuable for possessing them. I rarely had a sense of who I was or what I liked because most often I latched on to someone elses identity- there was always a friend to do this with. I often knew the right thing to do and didn't do it.  In the past my drugs of choice have ranged from food to lust to pride and self reliance. I have immersed myself in books, t.v, and other distractions- anything to avoid my thoughts (or my shame).   When people really did demonstrate true love towards me, I struggled to accept it. Intimacy was scary and I shut my husband out for a long time. He was one of many that I shut out, but the most significant because the fact that I did it so well for so long with the most intimate friend I have ever known goes to show how good I was at it.

Over the years I have become aware of these things and experienced much freedom from them. I have learned a lot, experienced a tremendous amount of grace, and managed to put some of it to good use. But I am still very skilled in self reliance and errecting walls. So skilled that I am unaware of how much I still do it. I am surprised when I once again find myself isolated and overwhelmed, which is often. I still struggle to accept love and help from people. I am heavily burdened with feelings of inadequacy and distrust. I claim to love God more than anyone but my prayers are often self-centered and revolve around what I need to do things my way. I rarely read the scriptures I claim to love so much. I fluctuate from being overwhelmed by the things I don't understand to having the arrogance to believe that I've heard all they have to say- it's nothing new. A lot of times I feel lonely which really seems impossible. But I do.

Lately I have been struggling mostly with spiritual matters. My motives are good. I want to live generously. I want to give from my abundance. I want people to know that God deserves all the credit for anything good in my life. I want to be the hands and feet of Christ. I want to be a good wife and mother. I want so many things. Meanwhile, I am working against all my old habits and continually sharing my struggles, putting myself out there. I am trying to live in community with others, to extend myself but to also receive what others want to offer.

But again and again I find myself feeling lonely.  I find myself needing direction, encouragement. The good kind. The life-giving kind. Not the generic stuff. I start with my if only's.  If only that friend weren't so far away. You know the one who knows me so intimately that I don't need to explain or defend what I am really trying to say. If only my husband would share in my exact same spiritual revelations so that he can somehow rise up and take me along for the ride. If only I had a mentor. If only someone could really understand me and where I have come from. If only I could find the perfect book or blog post to inspire me and motivate me. If only I had a bit more time, a bit more money, a bit more stuff. These thoughts have been accumulting for the past few weeks, maybe months. But they have been especially burdensome for the past few days. Mostly because I feel like I can't share them because they will come out in some crazy and slightly irrational jumble that will leave anyone in the wake trying to figure out what they did or didn't do.

I really have been trying to turn these thoughts over to God and pray through them before acting on them. And once again, just last night, I was presenting my requests to God in a pretty pouty way when I very clearly heard the gentle reminder that all of those things can be found. They can be found in Him. I just refuse to go to Him. At the end of the day, I always struggle to turn to Him. I have to be at the end of my rope. Granted, I get to the end of my rope much sooner now than I ever did because I am more quick to call "uncle" and realize my struggle to do it myself if futile. But I still turn with reluctance and I still struggle very much to let go of the pride and self preservation I cherish so much. And so I was asking why I do this. Why don't I find joy and ease in turning to God? Why am I constantly dreaming up a different person or a different scenario that will solve all of my problems and meet all of my needs instead of simply trusting that God will do those things?

Because I am running. I am hiding. It is easier to keep moving in some sort of direction than to have to stop and acknowledge my inadequacies. In the book of James, the Bible says that the foolish man is like one who looks into a mirror and then goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. For a long time that never made sense to me. But now it is a very special passage to me because I went through some very difficult times for awhile and I constantly felt like I was looking in a mirror for the first time. Rarely did I like what I saw. I needed that in order to grow and change and heal. But I didn't like it. And I can admit that I don't like the idea of having to keep looking in that mirror. I want to be done with it. I want to go away and forget my reflection. I want to avoid the pain and the discomfort. The church, my loved ones, God, and especially the scriptures. These are the mirrors in my life. The most significant ones are often the ones I avoid the most because I am afraid of what I might see. How often I forget the blessings and the new life that is to be found on the other side of it.

Meanwhile the other things call out to me. The struggles, the distractions. Even if I ignore them to the best of my ability, they will eventually win my time and affections and energy if I do nothing but ignore them. I can't stand still. So if I don't turn in the direction I want to head, I am sure to go back down the familiar road- no matter how destructive the consequences. I know this. I tell this to my mom all the time. And yet here I am, realizing that once again I am guilty and capable of the same things. I am no different than the prostitute, the drug addict, the manipulator. Maybe I don't let it go that far. But I believe the same lies that got them there. And not much keeps me from going there except for a heart that keeps trying to surrender to a God that loves me.

So yes, in a lot of ways I can identify with my mother and others like her. I think for that reason I will always find a sense of home with people who struggle in such a way. It is the reason why some part of me will always want to defend them. Because maybe all of us could stand to take a long, honest look in the mirror and see if we don't find something in common.

The Shadow of Death

2009-08-10T12:50:00.000-07:00

Psalm 23
1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

I have had a hard time coming back to this blog after my little break. Not that I don't have anything to say. Quite the opposite in fact. I struggle to shuffle through all the possible things I could tackle and turn it into something readable. But I think that if I am honest, I struggle most with what I will touch on here in this post. Ironically the thought didn't occur to me until I sat down to type it out just now. But I think it briefly summarizes my biggest ongoing struggle, and why I still grasp for the right words to say so often.

Psalm 23 is a very popular one. Most everyone has heard it even if they don't find their way around the bible-wielding populations. It is something you would easily see stitched on a pillow or hanging on the wall at your grandmother's house, with pictures of serene meadows- or something like that. It is often read at funerals, which is a sad occasion to be sure. But often I think we easily recite it and cling to it because of the serenity that is depicted in the first few verses. And it is a psalm that is meant to bring serenity. Don't get me wrong. But aside from the funeral bit, how often does verse 4 get a lot of attention? I mean it should throw on the brakes a bit.

Here David is throwing out some beautiful verses about walking beside still waters, and resting in the green grass. I can almost see him as a young boy playing his harp beside some stream while his sheep graze in the background. And maybe he was. But I doubt it. That would have been a much younger David. This David is talking about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Those are strong words if you let them sink in. When I stop and think about it, maybe David isn't serenely sitting by that stream after all. Maybe he is huddled up in another cave hiding and fighting for his life and desperately clinging to the visual reminder of his days in the pastures with the sheep and the promise that God will care for him as a shepherd. Maybe he is crying out after the death of his son, his affair with Bathsheba; his life in shambles. David knew what it was like to face the snowball of destruction that can come from a few bad choices. Maybe this was the death he spoke of. Who knows. All I know is that David was talking about finding his serenity in the midst of death and evil. He would not use those words lightly. So verse 4 should stop us in our tracks for a minute. It does me. Although I'll admit, not until recently.

There is a popular praise chorus out right now based on this song. And even though I have gone to church and sung the words again and again for well over a year now, it still chokes me up and brings me to tears each time I sing it. It strikes a deep chord with me. "The valley of the shadow of death." To me it is a very fitting description for any of us that bear the burdens of addiction. I feel like I can safely say that addiction is one of the most looming "shadows of death" in this life.

Hard to explain unless you have looked into the eyes of someone you love and felt a shiver of fear as you look into unfamiliar eyes and have the sense that they have temporarily been inhabited by something not of this world. Or you might look into the same eyes and see a sense of hopelessness and sadness that overflows and makes you choke with sorrow, knowing that the brief moment of despair that you just caught in those eyes was just a small bitter taste of something you will never fully understand. It could be that you've seen that own hopelessness in your own eyes. It is the feeling that death is lurking around the corner and the knowledge that at any time that person can be taken from you. It is the feeling that death might be a relief when you start to believe that the person you love is already gone, and only a broken down shell of a body remains- held together only by a steady stream of injections and inhalations.

All I know is that I can safely say that the shadow of death looms over my head daily. In my short lifetime I have walked through that valley too often. I have known what it is like to feel the presence of pure evil. And I tell you, it doesn't make for good conversation. So most of the time I just keep it to myself. My memories and experiences are my own and they trip me up enough. Why spread all of the gloom around? Foolish thought I know, and I could go off on a tangent easily here. But that is one reason why I still struggle to share after all this time and practice.

I also struggle against hopelessness. I struggle to believe that anything will ever change. I grieve for them and they are still with me, only because I let that shadow of death overcome me much of the time. I struggle with the feeling of needing to go to the rescue, to be a light in a dark place. This continually battles against the feeling of wanting to run away as far as I can. I enjoy a lot of blessings apart from them that make it REALLY easy to hide out. So I do.

But the Psalm, the song, and my sweet savior are so quick to remind me that it is not hopeless. That the shadow of death has not overcome. And I have to cling to that no matter what. No matter how foolish it might seem. No matter how much my love for them will throw me back into the depths. Because I am in fact called to be there. It seems ridiculous in the ways of the world. I would be warned against it, called a codependent, a doormat- or worse. And those things would be true if I took on the responsibility to save them with my own strength and resources. I have certainly tried in the past and could say a lot more about that. But Christ does not call me to do those things. He does call me to be there. In the flesh. To be an earthly vessel of his light and salvation in the valley. As long as I am clinging to him I can continue to be there without fear, and with some small shred of hope (because often that is all I have). The Psalm is not about choosing between streams of serenity and the valley of the shadow of death. It is about finding one in the midst of the other.

So that is what I am trying to do. I am not trying to fix the broken and save the helpless, because I see plenty of both in the lives that surround me. I am simply trying not to cower down, flee in fear, or choose to construct my own comforts in favor of doing "unto the least of these." I am trying to be there if I am called, pray if I am not called, and most of all I am clinging to my shepherd because the shadow of death will no doubt continue to loom.

"And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace." Luke 1:76-79

" 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.' They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'
He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.' " Matthew 25: 34-45

"Recovery": Part Three

2009-01-02T18:29:00.000-08:00

Part One

Part Two

About this time two years ago, I was a new member at a church that was launching a Celebrate Recovery program. The pastor at the time took several weeks to preach through the Beatitudes, which happen to coincide with the eight principles of CR, developed to go along with the traditional twelve steps. The sermon series was very special to me, and quickly stirred up a lot of emotions. I was reminded of my own recovery journey that started a few years earlier, and all of the constant maintenance I attempted to do on my own. Well not all on my own. God was faithful to continue to this work in progress, and I continued to have the support of friends and family. I was strengthened and renewed, touched on a very personal level as I received healing words and guidance on issues I continued to struggle with, and watch my family struggle with. And most of all I felt compelled so share my wealth of knowledge and experience. Ha!

So eventually I found my way to Celebrate Recovery. Yes, eventually. Life as a brand new mother didn't really afford me the opportunity for a few months. But I did get involved. My respect for the twelve steps and other recovery communities was a good foundation. I was on board from the beginning. I loved the fact that recovery communities were showing up in churches because of this program. I wanted to see it grow, and I wanted to serve there. I wasn't quite prepared to understand how important it would become as I faced some very difficult months shortly after. It was if God had provided for my needs before I was even aware. My involvement allowed me to continue to grow and heal in some places which were still very tender, and I had support that was very much needed as I unexpectedly started to battle depression again.

Aside from all that, I could not help but to be the constant observer that defines who I am so well. At this particular church, there was the certain stigma that a twelve step program was for the really messed up people. Insert stereotype here. I got a lot of puzzled looks as I made plugs for CR in my other areas of ministry. I assume that they were all secretly trying to figure out what my deep dark secrets were, which honestly makes me laugh. I'm not very secretive about all of this stuff, as you can see. Not anymore.

I also observed the people who came week after week, and the leaders who worked so hard to get it going. I was amazed, and truly believed that the small community that gathered each Wednesday night were the "cream of the crop" at that church.

It was a small group, just getting started. The needs and experiences ranged far and wide. Issues were more varied than AA would be. Week after week you would hear anything from eating disorders to sexual abuse, alcohol to anger, the pain of loss, the pain of divorce. There were others like me who just didn't know how to cope with the addictions of others, who had no other sense of self.

Once I was talking to a family member about my love for my CR group, very similar to some of what I have just said. She is very wise and respectable, not to mention a little familiar with recovery groups and addicts herself. She shook her head as if puzzled and asked how that was supposed to work. She said "How is a drunk going to relate to someone talking about divorce?" (or something like that.) I shrugged my shoulders, and said I didn't know. I continued to stew over that question for awhile, and I guess I still do.

But the truth is, it does work. It worked there in that small group, and was quite a sight to see. I have since then moved to a much larger CR group, one of the largest and fastest growing in the nation, and it still works. We are all jumbled up together with our very wide range of issues. In some ways I suppose there are barriers. As much as I try, I will never really know the thoughts and feelings that that keep people like my mom so entangled in misery and addiction. I will never fully relate to someone sexually abused, or fighting for their live to overcome an eating disorder. But the connections I do find week after week seem to come from the things that fuel those behaviors. Fear, anger, a need to control. Hopelessness, worthlessness, the despair of feeling all alone or unlovable. I think the more we gather, the more we recognize that in some sense our hurts, and our needs are the same. And at the end of the day, change and healing take place in the company of others. Isolation only breeds all the bad stuff.

I think that CR is also so important for the church. If you are not aware, it is a Christ-based program. It is a program. You will only find Celebrate Recovery in the walls of a church. There are a lot of guidelines to follow, and everything is by the book. If you are anything like me, this can be a bit annoying at times. Just a little. (That is the by the book part, not the church part.)

Either way, I think the Twelve Steps, and the Twelve Principles of AA for that matter, always captured a good picture of how the church should also function. I think it is terrific that someone has married the two together. The basic premise for AA was alcoholics helping one another simply by sharing their stories, their lives, and their common possessions and gifts. Honesty, hard work, and community are all vital components to any recovery program. They should be vital components to any church that is doing what Christ commissioned us to do. Somehow churches have more commonly become well-oiled machines that are expected to meet some need of satisfaction, whether it is appeasing God, or getting some warm fuzzies to guide you through the week. Just to name a couple. We put on our best clothes and our fake faces, go and smile and talk. We meet week after week but rarely get to know each other on a deep level. Maybe your church is not like this, but I can safely say that most often mine has been.

But the more I see CR infiltrate the church, the more I see a closer picture of what God intended for us to be doing. Especially when the leadership of a church can take the initiative and have the courage to be the first to stand up and say that they do not have it all together. In fact, church service and ministry is a prime place for hurting people to run and hide; somehow hoping that by serving God and others they will escape from, or finally take control of the darker things lingering beneath that polished smile. How amazing is it when one of those can find the courage to come clean? To admit the addiction to porn, or the financial disasters, or any number of things? Because we only pretend that such things don't exist in a church. It is really ridiculous when you think of it. Not only does it bring healing and accountability into the life of that person, but it gives others the courage to admit defeat and seek help that they would not otherwise seek. That is the true calling of a leader if you ask me. Sharing your own struggles and growth leads others to do the same. People grow in the way God intended because they allow God into those inner most parts. Churches grow in fellowship and community, and hopefully in size as more and more people come for what they really need- love, support, and redemption through Christ.

I also think CR works because of the church. Your faith, and your trust in God to do his part- these are the ultimate commonality. It provides a rich foundation of additional support as well.

I personally cannot say enough about this ministry. I realize I'm opening myself wide for all kinds of criticism and that's okay. I can't expect for everyone to share my sentiments, or my faith. All I hope is that some might see past the preconceived notions and stereotypes to see the miracles that happen week after week in a place like Celebrate Recovery.

CR is also an important aspect of my life, and will come up again and again as I continue to share on this little blog. I am about to start working on my forth step, which is basically an extensive inventory of events that have shaped you, people that have hurt you, and ways that you have hurt yourself or others. I imagine much of that will trickle over in my posts in the weeks to come. So I felt the need to give a little background if nothing else.

I'm sure my readership remains fairly small, and that is okay. But honestly, from time to time I would love to know that you are here. Especially if you are someone I might not be aware of. Leave an anonymous comment if you must. I don' t need to know who you are. But honestly, blogging about this stuff is easy to avoid sometimes and I need to be reminded that it is important from time to time. :) Or if it isn't, and you are all a bit sick of this idea, I should probably know that too.

Our Home for the Holidays

2008-12-27T07:45:00.000-08:00

(I originally wrote these jumbled ramblings on Monday Dec 22nd. A little late here, but I think I'll post it anyway. When all was said and done we were all a bit weary, but we had a great week together.)

I’ve done something a bit crazy this Christmas. I have insisted that my entire family come to my house for the week. This is a bit crazy logistically because it makes for 6 adults and three children in a small 2 bedroom duplex. Said duplex is also filled with so much furniture that it is ridiculously overcrowded. It is also a bit crazy because it sort of requires a lot of family togetherness in a family that is not so good at togetherness. We all like each other for sure. We get along better than a lot of families I suppose. We can laugh and have a good time and enjoy each other. But this is a family where most of us have learned to cope with life largely by isolation. It gets a little close for comfort when we can’t all escape to our own devices after a few hours. The funny thing is that I let myself get carried away a bit and the holiday I have been envisioning for months on end was a tiny bit unrealistic. In my mind I was thinking what family wouldn’t mind piling in on couches and sharing beds and hanging out watching the kids play, watching holiday movies, playing board games, drinking hot beverages and making homemade Christmas cookies. Oh yeah, that is what I would love to do. Meanwhile I think that my little brother is bored to tears and wanting to crawl out of his skin. He likes the family time I think, but in small doses.

It is also really easy for me to detach myself from my family. I have my very own happy place that I can go whenever I want. My life is pretty great and it is easy to want to build up a wall around myself and forget about everyone else. In a sense it is focusing on what I can control- building a strong marriage and a strong family. But it is also focusing on the things that seem safe. The distance also allows me to believe a lie; the lie that everyone is doing okay. I seriously convince myself of this. Then I manage to be shocked and discouraged when I am reminded. I’ve been aware of this stupid and selfish habit for awhile now and I’ve been trying to do something about it. But I often find myself falling into my old habits. Sometimes it is because nothing seems to change so I don’t think it necessary to ask. A lot of times it is because I am relying on one person- my grandmother- to fill me in with her version of the story so that I can get the compact, summarized (and if I’m honest, subjective and skewed) version of the story. The truth is that most of the time I am completely overwhelmed by the seemingly hopeless or discouraging circumstances that any given family member might be facing at the time. It closes in on me and makes me feel like I am simultaneously being choked and sat on by a very big and fat man. First of all, I really feel like I get a very real taste of what they are feeling. I get drawn into the frustration, despair, you name it. For a moment I am completely immersed in what they are trying to share with me. I feel compelled to do something, to fix it. I automatically want to bear the burden in some way, and often the burden seems unbearable. Especially when it is multiple people I am feeling this way about. Now I’ve grown up some over the years and learned that I have no business trying to “help” people in this way. I’ve also learned the hard way that I have no ability to do this. And that people are interested in you fixing them. Not one bit. With some good mental coaching, I can quickly move past these sick and twisted instincts. But time does not seem to change the fact that it is my first compulsion. It does not change the crippling anxiety that I feel for a moment. And those are feelings that you naturally want to avoid I suppose.

So as this week started to close in, I started to panic a bit. Seriously, what was I thinking!? I started to imagine all kinds of potential conflicts and tragedies. I started to stress over the small things and feel my old friend the control freak trying to inhabit my body once more as I thought of all the ways that our routines and rules would be disrupted. I’ve spent weeks just trying to get a handle on my own life, feeling unbelievably exhausted, and then suddenly I expected to have the energy to host and entertain and care for two extra children for a whole week! Then my dad called and he wanted to come too. Yikes.

So Sunday I was sitting in church as my husband was heading back here with family members in tow. I don’t even think I was fully aware of all of the anxieties setting in. I was still trying to overcome it with my “hope for the best/ do the best I can” attitude. I guess I didn’t intend on asking God for a whole lot of help because other than some shallow prayers muttered here and there, much along the lines of “help me out here”, there wasn’t a whole lot of dialogue going on. But God came to me and spoke to me anyway. I don’t even know that I can remember or articulate all of events of that Sunday worship service. I could dig deep and try to think about the sermon notes or the songs we sang. But they don’t matter much. God’s presence was there. He was so near, reminding me that He was there. More brutal was the reminder that I couldn’t face any of it without Him. That took some humbling confession on my part. Best of all was the peace was suddenly overflowing. The blessed reminder of what Christmas is all about, the beautiful picture of love that has already been demonstrated.

You see, the world tells me that I cannot love my family with such reckless abandon because they will continue to hurt me. God tells me that I can love them this way, and He demands it. He does not promise that I won’t be hurt, or taken advantage of, or unappreciated. His very own son was mistreated and abused in every imaginable way, and still He gave everything. He also does not promise that anything will change. “Each must choose.” At the end of the day, each of them makes their own decisions. And if they keep making the same ones, it may lead to further destruction and despair in their lives, in the lives of their children. But I know that if there is anything that is able to make a difference, it is the love of God. The love demonstrated through Christ. God is in the business of redeeming lives. He knows what He is doing. If I attempt to love and enjoy my family in the way that God intends, it is the best gift I can give. It changes me, if no one else.

The truth is, I don’t need a picture perfect week of holiday fun to enjoy my Christmas and to enjoy my family. For better or worse, I do enjoy my family. I love and appreciate each of them so much more than I could ever express. We are pretty "dysfunctional", but I think we get some important things right. I don’t have much to offer them really. Often I hide in shame for this very reason. I feel guilty too. Sometimes I think that they look to me for answers, and I just don’t have them. But I don’t have to offer much. I love them and want to be with them this Christmas. Who cares if things get hectic and out of sorts? I suppose the world won’t come to an end if my daughter gets slipped some candy or soda that would otherwise be forbidden, or hears a curse word. Gasp! (I’m attempting to laugh at myself here but I can get worked up about these things.) When all is said and done, I will be so grateful for this Christmas and for the time we will have had. And I’m willing to bet that when all is said and done, all of us will be one step closer to knowing how to love each other better. Getting used to being in the room with each other seems like an important step anyway.

This is the crazy and remarkable thing about family, siblings especially. When you are all grown up, sometimes it seems like there are no commonalities to be found. You might all take turns shaking your heads in disbelief as you realize that you are worlds apart. But at the same time lives are intertwined in ways I can’t even begin to understand. Affections and loyalties are fierce. It is a big, messy scenario that I can’t really comprehend. But I love it. And in this way I know that we are no different from any other family, no matter what our history. So when all is said and done, I am grateful that we still give it a shot. We still do our best to get together and get it right. That is something to be grateful for.

"Recovery": Part Two

2008-12-19T20:12:00.000-08:00

Part One is here.

As I got older, my affection for AA and other recovery communities remained but I didn’t give any of it much thought for a long time. I threw myself into school and activities and tried to lead the most “normal” life I could. (Hah!) Anyway, I never went to Alateen or Al-Anon or any of the other support groups for family members, and obviously I got to the point where I was old enough that I didn’t have to travel underfoot to meetings and such.

After my second year of college, I transferred back home and started attending a new university. This meant I had to pick up a new minor area of study and I opted for “Addiction Studies” because it just so happened the new school had a specialized program that supported students in recovery, and also trained individuals who were interested in becoming professionals in the field of addiction treatment and prevention.

At first I was really excited and loved being able to be immersed in studies involving this. I had desired for many years to work with children and youth affected by addiction and I couldn’t be happier for the opportunity.
But the move back home was one of the hardest times of my life. Rewind a few years to set the stage: The last couple of years of high school were a really hard time and I couldn’t wait to get out and away from the hell at home that was getting progressively worse. I went away to a school that provided the perfect environment for me to escape and start to find my own identity. I made some lifelong friends and got married in those two years. I was really happy. Then I moved back into the midst of the hell, things always getting progressively worse. And trust me, you often feel like they can’t get worse. But most of all it was hard for me because I could no longer deny a truth that had been revealing itself for years. I was a mess. A BIG mess. Even in some of the happiest times of my life, over the past two years, I had to work really hard to keep this truth at bay.

Now back home, in my new/old circumstances, life was squeezing harder than ever and I was seeing what I was really made of. I did not like it one bit. The pressure of being back home brought me to a breaking point. I was depressed. Really depressed. And going to my classes was exhausting. The discussions triggered memories and raised questions and left me with a longing for something I couldn’t name. I would often cry upon leaving class. Well I cried a lot back then. All the time actually. But almost always after these classes. One class in particular required that we go to 15 AA meetings in a semester. This came down to about one a week. If you didn’t go, you didn’t pass. So I found myself back in the recovery community, but with a different guise.

I much enjoyed revisiting some of my old childhood stomping grounds. There were happy and sad memories at many of the meeting places I went. I have to admit I choked on the smoke and didn’t enjoy all of it quite so much. I was running into some family members (Daddy dearest for one) who were making meetings and honestly at the time I was pissed off and trying to avoid them all. So I didn’t go willingly every week. There was a meeting I did enjoy a lot called Celebration. It was a meeting at the campus (smoke free), led by the professor of this particular class. It was called Celebration because it was meant to encourage the celebration of recovery from any number of things, from drugs and alcohol, to anorexia and bulimia, to sex addiction. And while people like me were usually only observers at this meeting, the professor often told us there and in class that he knew that a large number of us were probably friends and families of addicted persons, or we wouldn’t be there. He encouraged us week after week to pursue some sort of recovery of our own.

It didn’t take long for all of this to get me thinking that I did need to start my own recovery process. I was able to admit that I was just as sick and in need of help as all of my family members. (Stopping to say that this was a true paradigm shift in my life. Monumental.) I just didn’t know where to begin. And I felt very isolated and alone. I had a lot of wonderful people in my life. I had a husband who loved me so much and showed it so well. These friends, and of course the husband, are still to this day my best friends. But at the time I thought that the girl they all knew and loved wasn’t really me. I thought if they knew what I was really struggling with that they certainly wouldn’t feel the same way. And while they all knew about my family history, who wants to hear about it all the time? Why spread the misery around. So I clammed up tighter than ever, cried in secret. I don’t really remember if I was much of a friend at all. It was a blur. I certainly wasn't much of a wife.

I longed for counseling. But I had no way to pay for it. At the end of the day, I continued to live in isolation. I entertained the idea of finding some outside help but I didn’t do anything about I for quite awhile. But in the meantime, I continued to go to multiple classes week after week where the Twelve Steps were posted on the wall behind the professor. I did an extensive study on the history and treatment of alcoholism and addiction, which included an in depth look into AA and its history. (Fascinating by the way- I highly recommend it to anyone.) My respect and affection for the program and the people in it continued to grow and I constantly professed how the Twelve Steps were good steps for anyone to live by. And eventually all of it started to sink in a little bit more. Week after week I would read the first step; “I am powerless, I am powerless…..” I did feel powerless. I had worked all my life to be untouched. I had worked to better myself and rise above it. I might have fooled myself and some others along the way, but here I was- depressed, miserable, I hated myself. I wasn’t turning to drugs and alcohol or any other vice like the other people in my life. But I was sure beginning to understand why they did the things they did.

Long story short, God was faithful during this time. The people in my life, my church- they were faithful in their love for me and eventually I felt brave enough to start talking about it. I had only been able to start to understand enough to talk about it, but the bravery thing was big too. And the more I shared, the more I was free of it. The healing and the recovery I had been longing for got a major jumpstart, and life improved drastically.
The Twelve Steps had taken root in my life in a new way. Once again, AA and the recovery communities in my hometown had given me a firm place to stand

"Recovery": Part One

2008-12-14T20:03:00.001-08:00

*I've split this up into three parts to make it a bit more clear and to give myself more time and space to write about it. Recovery is a term that gets thrown around a lot and most people might not know what it means. I'm going to try to show you a small picture of what it means to me.*

I grew up going to AA. That is Alcoholics Anonymous.

Recovery…
Sobriety…
Relapse…
“The Program”…
Denial…
Enabling…
Codependency…

These were all words that were part of my vocabulary and understanding at a very young age. I know many adults now who wouldn't know what many of these really mean. I had the Serenity Prayer, the Lord’s Prayer (said at the end of each meeting), and a number of other common phrases memorized. In many ways these things, and the Twelve Steps formed the foundation of how I understood the world.

But most of all, I just have fond memories of going to AA meetings. The memories I have are too numerous to count, large fibers in the fabric of my childhood. When my mom was going to meetings, we could all breathe a little. Well a lot. We could embrace hope and expect things to be calm and peaceful and as they should be. Mom’s AA friends were safe. No time was spent sizing them up and trying to determine if they were “good” or “bad” so that I could try to figure out some way to stop my mom from being friends with them. No, around these people, I could relax and be a kid.

I remember the people. Kids were always welcome and always underfoot and no one minded at all. We would duck under tables and run around. We would make large cups of coffee for ourselves, (which were actually cups full of sugar with enough coffee to dissolve it), sneak tastes of frosting of the “birthday” cakes on those special days spent celebrating sobriety dates. One particular meeting place seemed the most like home. To this day I can still close my eyes and see the layout of the building; I can visit each room and remember familiar faces. We did have a playroom there. A dark old room with a fuzzy T.V, and some scattered toys. Black and white checkered floor. There was a man who made the coffee, and cleaned up, and kept up the buiding (there is a name for people who do this but it escapes me). He would sit at a table outside the door, drinking his coffee. He rang the bell to start the meetings and worked really hard to seem annoyed with us kids, but mostly I remember him being gentle and always watching out for us. I can still see his face. I wish I remembered his name.

Each July was the AA convention, spent at a local hotel. To us, this was as good as Christmas. It meant days spent swimming in the hotel pool, ducking in and out of selected hotel rooms (rented by some sponsors and “old timers”) with all kinds of “family” to pat our heads distractedly as we filed in and out filling our mouths with snacks. There was a big meeting room open after each session, with tables filled with food. We would stuff ourselves; sit around tables looking at old photo albums. The end of each long weekend was always followed up with a dance. It was much like a family reunion each year. I felt safe and secure and part of a huge and loving family.

All of these people became a part of who I was. I felt connected to them. I learned from them. Growing up in a recovery community gave me so many valuable gifts. More than I could even begin to express here. Maybe it will become clearer as I get to parts two and three. But I do think that one of the best resiliency tools I was given as a child was learning that addiction was not the preferred way. I was shown an alternative. How many kids grow up thinking that they don’t want to have that way of life, but never catch sight of anything better? How many kids grow up thinking that all daddies must drink a lot and neglect or abuse their families? I was given perspective. I was given some excellent tools for coping with things. And as I've mentioned, I felt I was given a large and extended family that was safe and secure.

It certainly wasn't all sunshine and roses, but I’m grateful for what the recovery community gave me starting at such a young age. I think few could be so lucky as to grow up with men and women who are willing to be honest, seek community, dig their heels in, and do the hard work that is required to rebuild a life that has been shattered. I'd say I had some good people to look up to.

Still here...

2008-12-11T12:21:00.000-08:00

Apologies for the neglect of this little blog. If I had any readers, I am sure that they are nowhere to be found by now. Anyway, I do intend to get the ball rolling again, and have a specific series of posts already floating around in my head- I just need to get them on "paper"- so I hope you will check back with me soon. I'm posting now to hold myself to it.

P.S. I guess I should mention that I've been too tired and too preoccupied for the blogging world mostly because baby number 2 is in the making. :)

Getting to the point.

2008-10-12T17:56:00.000-07:00

So several weeks ago I decided to take this blog in a different direction and start blogging about my life in the context of the lives that have shaped mine - incidentally most of these lives are rooted in addictions of all kinds. Drugs, alcohol, sex, you name it. I feel a really strong sense of purpose in doing this, and most importantly a clear leading from God. Essentially I feel like I have a lot to say and a lot of beneficial things to share.

But I've struggled.

First of all, this blog has served as a well, a blog. A place for me to talk about everything from the definition of faith, to the invasion of rats in our home. It has been a place for me to keep intimacies with friends and families because you just don't have time to say it all when you are so spread out. And I've had a hard time filtering out what to blog about. That problem has been solved. I have another blog that will serve that purpose so that I can feel free to stick to the point here. If your reading this in hopes of a more personal update on life, I did that here. And here on this blog, I have kept all of my old posts because the majority of them are relevant to what I hope to discuss here. So if you are brave enough to start at the beginning, just know that.

Second, I continue to struggle with how much to tell you. With what stories to share. I am perfectly comfortable sharing these things, and want to talk more about that. It is the main purpose of this post. But the fact is that I am blogging about my family too. And as much as I will do to maintain some anonymity for their sakes (please help me with this friends), I still run the tremendous risk of tripping them up if I were to stir some memories or emotions that they are not really ready to deal with yet. While I realize the potential dysfunction of that statement, I don't think it is completely unhealthy of me to worry about that. It doesn't seem fair to force others to be where I am at, especially when so many of them are still in a great deal of pain and actively trying to not think about these things. I also don't want it to seem as if my version of the story is the gospel truth. My brothers and I always marvel and what we remember, what we have skillfully forgotten, and what events had the most impact. The differences are vast. My story is my story and I intend to stick to it as much as possible. Also, I do tend to try to figure out what people are thinking, and why they do what they do. So that is bound to come through despite my best efforts. Forgive me in advance and feel free to point out when I am making some misguided assumptions. Still I feel like I can do the best that I can, and hope for good to come from it. I think with continued sensitivity and some open dialogue (let's not forget the most important- prayer), I can find my way with what is appropriate to share and with what is not.

I wanted to talk a little bit about my journey when it comes to sharing this aspect of my life, which more and more seems all-encompassing. Because the truth is I am really open about it. And nothing kills a conversation quite like my casual references to my incarcerated mother or my drunken uncle who grew pot in his house. I'll admit that sometimes I use humor to lighten the mood and it is inappropriate I suppose. I'm socially awkward and famous for saying stupid things under anxiety. I also am painfully honest. If you ask me how my mom is, or what she does, etc., I am going to tell you the truth. She happens to be in jail right now and really there is no other way to say it. Either way, the response is always the same. Obvious discomfort, followed by the immediate change in subject. I don't want to make people uncomfortable. Okay, maybe I do. Yes- a little will not hurt anyone. And if it give awareness to a really serious problem that effects so many of us, then yes- let's get comfortable talking about it. I need for people to know that it is okay. Don't change the subject for my sake.

Actually, the majority of my life was spent NOT talking about it, and doing whatever was necessary to appear normal and not let anyone know the truth about who I really was. Gasp! There were a few times along the way that I did open up, and it ended up being incredibly hurtful. This started early on, in fourth grade. I began to confide in my best friend at the time, and although she never mentioned anything to anyone that I knew of, her parents picked her up from my house one weekend, smelled some pot in the background- you get the idea. She was banished from my house. I was still welcome at hers, but confronted with a lot of pity and condescension from her parents. For several years after that, I never told anyone else. A time came when I did not allow anyone in my home. Eventually this changed. Another best friend entered into my life and I was able to talk to her openly about it. She spent much time at my house and was witness to some of my most difficult years. This changed me in ways I could not begin to describe. As a teenager I began to share a bit more openly. I gave a testimony in front of our whole church congregation. Mostly I got good feedback. A minimum amount of pity and condescension. Although some random church member did take the liberty of telling me ON MY WEDDING DAY how fortunate I was that someone like me was able to marry into the ______ family. Ouch. I wrote a narrative in high school centered around my mother's addiction and shared it with my entire English class. Gradually I became more and more comfortable with talking about it.

Now I realize that it is vital to be open about it. For my benefit, and also because it does benefit others. Because trust me my friend, these things keep people in a prison of silent torture. I need to share my story, and I need to hear other people's stories. It is freedom to know that we we are not alone. And as I mentioned, I hope others will become comfortable with talking about it. Whether it means someone in a similar situation being able to find some healing, or giving some awareness to those who might have some preconceived notions about addiction that keep them from seeing the real person buried underneath.

Which leads me to another important reason. I love my family. I am grateful for my experiences. I am no longer ashamed. In fact, in many ways I feel I've been given some tremendous advantages. And did I mention that I love my family? I want to invite you to see all there is to love, and to understand why I have so much to be grateful for.

So please come back, engage in some good conversation. Give me some feedback from time to time and let me know that I have an audience! And stay tuned. I've got a series of posts in mind already....

Oh My God

2008-10-03T11:31:00.000-07:00

A real live post? Really? No. Not yet. I'll be back soon from my blogging hiatus. Honestly, I will.

In the meantime, I had to share this video. I found it today when I was in bad need of some Jars of Clay to help me pray. It is really powerful, but watch the whole thing or its not worth it. :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txqeyisb688

Here are the lyrics.

Some Details

2008-09-06T21:58:00.001-07:00

Double posting in efforts to catch up a bit.

In the past week or so, I have:

~Become a working mom. It is that hand-crafted, God-delivered job that I mentioned earlier. I'm really enjoying it, incredibly grateful, and somehow peaceful even in the loss of some serious time with my sweet girl. (Super attached mommy checking in.) We are both holding up well.

~Visited with some old friends, both new moms. I fell madly in love with both of their babies and had and amazing time. (He he, that one is for you Skinny.)

~Closed down two Starbucks with a new friend. Time ran out, words did not. I love that.

~Shared a meal and a laidback evening with another great friend and our girls, and the yummy husband.

~Made a huge batch of chicken salad and missed some special someones desperately. Despite the aforementioned girl bonding time that still has me glowing.

~Realized the impending dread of another precious friend moving further away. But it's small in comparison to the excitement of what they are up to.

~Been to the beach. I love the beach. I love the waves, the smell, the sun. I love the complete serenity I feel near the water. I love the sand and the salt in my mouth. I love the fat people in swimsuits. (Coincidentally I was one of them this year.) I love it all. I can't even describe it. I sound so lame right now. But it was great, and long awaited.

~Continued to fall in love with my husband a little more each day. Man he is good. I sometimes think I will find a way to make us some money by him giving lessons on husbandry and massage. But I don't want to share him. And I don't think he would cooperate anyway.

~Been milking every last drop of summer, but also looking forward to fall. Gasp!

~Continued to cry and whine and plead with God to give my husband a steady job so that we can look forward to some more babymaking.

~Not been staying in touch with my family enough. That always makes me feel guilty and selfish. And slightly worried that I haven't heard from them either.

~Been staying up way too late. Tomorrow is going to hurt. Goodnight.

Charlie

2008-09-06T21:28:00.000-07:00

We travelled to Houston for Labor Day weekend, and took a day to go to Galveston. Road trips always bring out a reflective/nostalgic side of me. Okay, well they intensify those tendencies that are already there. Also, I just really really love the beach, the ocean, all of it. It gives me a serious high. I guess that is the difference between me and all of my addicted family members. I don't get it. Why use drugs when you can go to the beach? Well I guess that beach trips are hard to come by for a lot of us. Hmmm....

In all seriousness though, I had plenty of time to think and reflect and do all those things I love best. I have a number of things I could say to you, but it is not a hard decision this time. I want to tell you about Charlie.

Charlie was a good friend of my uncle, brother of mom. They met in treatment, I believe. I am not sure when he came into our lives but I do remember him being at my 7th birthday party? After that it seems he was around more and more.

Charlie was in love with my mother. He wanted to marry her. I didn't know any of this at the time. All I knew is that he loved us, really loved us, and that I liked having him around. The usual wariness and verging-on-hatred type of anger and resentment that I would normally feel to some outsider was never there.

Charlie was a big man. Big and tall. He had a beard, a kind face. Picture a younger version of Santa- a little more rough around the edges, but with all of the presence and all of the jolliness and comfort. I have a picture somewhere of Charlie holding me in one arm and my little brother in the other. He is holding us and hugging us. It is obvious that we were just sort of jumping/dangling on him. It's a great picture. All smiles.

Charlie took us to Six Flags and the Texas State Fair. He took us to Galveston, my first time at the beach. Then to the Houston zoo. It is why I was thinking of him so much this past weekend. He brought so much fun and happiness and peace into our lives when he was there. I think he crammed more fun and normalcy into a couple of years, than any that we experienced in the several years following.

We loved Charlie. I know I can speak for all of us there.

I used to think he was rich, because he did so many nice things for us. I know now that he wasn't at all and that it must have been a tremendous strain to travel to see us so much, to take us the places that he did. And I never knew the emotional strain he must have felt loving my mother. She is so easy to love. But she didn't love herself enough to stay clean and sober, and after much heartache and dissapointment, and I'm sure to preserve his own sobriety, Charlie left.

I think that he and my mother kept in touch over the years here and there. Eventually he married. I sent him an invitation to my high school graduation and he sent me a hundred dollar bill. I wasn't expecting anything from him, I only missed him and wanted him to know. A year later I sent him a wedding invitation but got no response. I'm sure it is not easy for him to hear from us and to remember. I'm sure his wife doesn't like it either. But I wouldn't really know.

From what I hear, he lives in the same metroplex as us. He's not far away. I'm always tempted to look him up and just reconnect, to somehow let him know how important he was to me. I want him to know about my life, my wonderful life. I want him to know about my cousins and what wonderful men they are growing into because I know he loved their dad so much. I want him to know that he made a difference. A huge difference. In loving my mom, he loved us. He gave us gifts that went far beyond the trips and the fun.

So, I jsut wanted you all to know about Charlie.

A little bit of church talk.

2008-08-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

Confession number one: Going to church makes me have anxiety attacks.
It's true. Not every time, but often. My heart starts racing, throat constricts, voice gets shaky, hands get shaky. Going anywhere without my husband by my side sends me into panic. In a room full of people, there are usually always at least a handful of people I would love to talk to and sincerely want to reconnect with. But most of the time I find a seat and engross myself in conversation with the nearest person in attempt to tune out the rest of the room. And I can't wait until I get to leave. I LOVE having the exuse of needing to get to the nursery to pick up the babe.

Now I can say that this anxiety is not paralyzing. And for that I am grateful. The cold wind just kind of blows around me. I'm not gripped by that icy fist that completely dehabilitates you. When I meet people who do have that kind of anxiety, I can only imagine how awful it is. I am mostly able to override the anxiety. I smile. I force myself to talk. I do what I need to do. But no matter how many years go by, it still continues to baffle me that I still get this way so often.

It's all the people. It's not the actual church building or some strange fear of God. It is all those people crammed together. It gets me every time. It doesn't matter if it is a room full of people I love and trust. But walking into a room with a lot of people just completely overwhelms me. I thought I would be able to describe it better but I'm getting kind of freaked out just thinking about it. Crazy, I know.

Anyway, the funny thing is that it doesn't stop me from talking in a discussion (I probably talk too much most of the time), or standing up in front of a large group of people, or being completely vulnerable and putting it all out there. I do all of these things, which is probably why people would be shocked to know this about me. But honestly I just do those things because I know I have to. It is important. And God says that it is good to do. It is beneficial for me, for others. And God gives me strength to do it. But if you listen closely, you will hear my voice waver. If you take a closer look you will see my limbs trembling. And if I don't talk to you, sorry. It is just because I am resisting the urge to run away. If I do talk to you, I am most likely to talk only about myself and probably give you an inappropriate amount of information (nervous habit) so sorry about that too.

And the truth is, I don't just get this way at church. I was this way in high school, in a college classroom, pretty much any large group setting. I DID NOT enjoy walking down the aisle on my wedding day because I was freaked out by all of the people, looking right at me too. Shudder. But nothing seems quite as overwhelming as church. Probably because it is one of the most consistent activities in my life. And no matter how much you get to know people, and find a little bit of ease, there will always be new people to feel awkward around. That is just the way it is. Anyway, there is that.

Confession number two: Hello my name is Misty and I am a people pleaser.

Yesterday was actually our last day at our current church home and we will be looking for a new place. It has been a long time coming, and a not fun process because most simply we have felt God's very clear and consistent guideance to do it but we have been stubbornly trying to do things in our own time frame. However, you can only be disobedient for so long without some natural consequences so with a renewed prayer and a more united approach to it all, the husband and I were both assured that it was in fact time to leave, and so we set things in place to do that a few weeks ago.

The tricky part is that we were in a place of leadership, and this is a lot of the reason why we stuck around a lot longer than we should have. We couldn't just slip out without people noticing. Plus there a large number of people we love and care about, lives and ministries that we are invested in. There was a want and a need to tell a number of people, and say goodbye. This is also tricky though because you don't want to be disruptive in any way. We belong to a large church, there is new leadership and lots of things changing. Every time someone leaves, for whatever reason it might be, it sets off a spark that can easily roar into a raging fire of gossip and negativity if you are not careful. It was stressful! And now that we have said our goodbyes and are officially moving on, I cannot tell you how good it feels. We are certainly sad in some ways, excited in others. But mostly what I feel right now is a tremendous sense of relief.

Certainly much of that sense is the peace that comes when you take a step of obedience. It really is a "peace that transcends all understanding"*. But as I mentioned, it has been a bit stressful, especially for me, which leads me back to the statment I have seemingly abandoned: I am a people pleaser. Sometimes I trick myself into thinking that I have pretty much gotten over this and that it no longer disrupts my life in a negative way. Well I have been put in my place. It was hard to ignore my need to please everyone, the fear and worry that someone was mad at us for leaving, or talking behind our backs. The new waves of anxiety, more intensified as I sat in a room full of people, some who new that we were leaving before we officially announced it. I couldn't help but read into every action. Were they just brushing us off? Do they just wish we would leave already? My imagination works has the especially good talent of imagining all of the ways that people could disapprove or be displeased with me.

Then I worried about saying goodbye to everyone. I really wanted a chance to tell people how much I cared, how much I appreciated them and learned from them. But there simply isn't much time or opportunity, especially when you are trying to slip out quietly to avoid making a disturbance. There were the sad looks on the faces of people we did tell and it was almost unbearable for me. The sweet girl's Sunday school teachers were the hardest to tell because they are SO wonderful and they love her to peices. Not to mention the very slim chance we will find any others as great as they were. When in those situation, I wanted to take it all back and say "Nevermind!" just to keep from making anyone unhappy.

And so it was undeniable that I am still a pitiful and irrational people pleaser. It is amazing how quickly your mind can spin out of control when thinking about all of the silly things that you really have no control over, but want to. No wonder anxiety plagues such a great number of us. I know I am not alone and that is why I like to share.

I also think that it is important to take note of the miracles that are in place here. 1) I can talk about it and I am so glad to be free from the feeling that I am alone and 2) I may never stop struggling with these crazy behaviors and compulsions, but I can say for sure that they do not have the same power over me. They do not interrupt my life. And as much as I like to say that I am, I am not really crazy or out of control. These are annoyances, small hurdles to jump. And that is amazing because at one time they were obstacles that completely blocked any hope in sight, driving me to my knees and giving me a sense of hopelessness.

It is amazing how God works, because if I was completly free from these struggles, I would all to easily forget how far I've come, and where I might have ended up without the intervention. I need to be reminded.

James 1:23-24
"Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in the mirror and after looking at himself, immediately forgets what he looks like."

I don't want to forget.

*Phillipians 4:7

Update?

2008-08-21T19:55:00.000-07:00

I'm not a lazy blogger. Well maybe, but not in the way you might think. I think about posting throughout the day. I have an abundance of ideas actually. This is part of the problem. Trying to pick a subject and run with it, paired with the unstructured days that make up my life, leads to me not blogging. That and my lovely daughter who will not let me go near the computer throughout the day. And a strong need to avoid it in the evenings in favor of seeing the husband and avoiding this lovely over stimulation that keeps me up at night... Man I am good at excuses.

Anyway, updates are in order I suppose. Especially after such a long and depressing post to leave everyone hanging. Sorry.

If you don't know me well enough, I'll just tell you that usually a long melancholy rant is a good sign and you can pretty much rest assured that after I have moved on and am feeling much better. For the most part. :)

On the job situation:

I got one! A while back I was casually browsing Craigslist which is a habit of mine, looking for any jobs that might stick out. This led to me interviewing with a preschool, based in a local church. Long story short- I fell in love. The pay and the schedule were perfect. Not full time, but enough hours to make a pretty penny. A good place for the babe. Logistically I was salivating for the position. And the thought of being a preschool teacher, free to make lesson plans and have some creative license planted a seed and led to a lot of daydreaming. I was excited. And after my second interview I was already making plans, but I didn't get the position. They hired someone else with more classroom experience. But they also left a little bit of a carrot dangling to the point that I have sort of been holding out to see if I would get a call. First in line if they lost another teacher in other words.

All the while I've longed for the same logistics that would actually lead to me making a little bit of money. But that scenario is a little hard to come by. I thought there was a good chance that God might make it happened. I had a little deadline with myself that ended this week. In the meantime I feel like my daughter has been withering away with boredom around here. So I started calling around yesterday to see if and Mother's Day Out programs were hiring. It is a good setup for both of us and she really loves going to "school". I've done this before and could choose to go back to either of the two churches I have previously worked with, or both actually. But one just doesn't give me many hours to work with AT ALL and the other is just so far away and pays a little less than most.

First call I make was to a preschool with a very similar setup to "the one that got away". A five day a week program. Yes they were hiring for one position. Yes they would love to talk more about it. Anyway, at the end of the day I got the job. It is going to be a really good fit all around and I am so pleased. I start Monday. Interesting twist: The director never advertised the open position because she felt that God told her that He would bring someone to her.

The hubby is still working his measly hourly wage at his current job with the always impending, but quite elusive "offer" hanging over his head. He is looking for other jobs in the meantime. Either way, me going to work should allow us to at least be self sufficient until something else pans out for him. But we are still praying for something to happen with him SOON so that we can start saying goodbye to our debt once more and the big one is a need for some insurance for our family.

I could say so much more on this subject, and God has really given me some really good direction and is slowly changing my heart from bitter and skeptical to more trusting and willingly obedient. But I'm trying to stick to the bare bones here.

On the running:

I've been a little closed mouthed about this I know. Completely abandoned updating my running log/blog. Actually I just deleted it. If you need to be caught up, I was signed up with an organization called Team in Training and training to run a half marathon, then hopefully a full marathon in the fall. It is a lifelong dream and I really felt like now would be a great time- getting it out of the way before (hopefully) finding a way to bring another baby into our world; and also taking on the whole strategy of whipping my mind and spirit into shape by starting with my body. I was really committed and so excited to do it all. Despite all of the obstacles that started to stack up as soon as I signed up, I was pretty persistent. Seriously- the morning after I signed up I was on a plane to the hometown and to a very sick grandmother in the hospital. I kept going very persistently.

That was in April. In May we inherited a niece and nephew for a while. I kept going. Even with two extra children and no extra energy. End of June my shin splints returned. I wasn't even worried but mentioned them to my coach and the chiropractor that was examining all of us and giving us feedback. Well they were worried and it was highly suggested that I see a doctor ASAP. I didn't. Couldn't afford it. But I didn't push when it started to hurt. Just days later the pain was so bad that I couldn't run, could barely walk. Took some rest time.

One week turned to two but I got back to it. After just a week back, I signed up to do the 15K that the rest of my team was running in lieu of practice that day. (15K= 9.3 miles) I was terrified and sure that I was crazy for attempting it. Until that point I had only gotten up to five miles in my longer distances. But the race went great. I felt great. Everything about it was wonderful. Got an incredible surge of emotion at the end, and I am slightly embarrassed to say that I had to fight back a very overwhelming urge to cry my eyes out upon crossing the finish line.

It was a great day.

The next day I could barely walk. I attempted to get a run in anyway because I knew it would be beneficial after such a long run the day before but I couldn't do it. Tried again the next day, and made it about 20 minutes. Then I really couldn't walk without some pretty severe pain. So I stopped running again. I haven't run since because truthfully the pain has not disappeared. I talked to my coach and other team members and I got a lot of reassurance and support. The truth is I probably could get back on track at this point and complete my event.

But the sad reality is that I cannot afford it any longer. Can't afford the doctor's visits/treatments. Can't afford the new pair of running shoes. Just can't do it. So the past several weeks have been very hard for me. It is not something I have been willing to give up on, and honestly I feel a bit like a loser who just needs to suck it up and stop making excuses. But another time perhaps. In the meantime, I am really missing running and I have been restless to get back to it. I think I will very soon. I've rested enough that I should be fine as long as I don't go trying to run any more 15K's or half marathons just yet. Just a little daily jog so that I do lose all my hard work so far.

In the meantime I finally gave in and tried to find a yoga class to help me release some of my restless frustrations. Snagged a great deal- 10 classes for $10 (in 10 days). So I've been living it up and feeding my yoga addiction for the past few days which has been nice. It will be hard to say goodbye to that too.

Anyway, that is that. Running is a boring subject I know but I really appreciate so many of you precious family and friends who have known the importance it holds for me, working hard to stay updated and show your support.

I'm outta words and outta energy. Off to bed, if this blasted late night blogging doesn't lead to me being up all night.

If only...

2008-08-12T18:22:00.000-07:00

This was supposed to be a big week. This was supposed to be the week where my husband was supposed to make the choice between two perfectly good jobs. Perfectly good jobs that would enable us to, I don't know, pay our bills! Knowing that a choice was on the horizon, we have been praying like crazy that God would make things very clear to us by closing the door that we do not need to walk through. Well He closed both doors. Not entirely I suppose. There might be some slight chance that the company he is currently temping for will actually offer him the position that they have been hanging over his head for weeks now, especially since they are laying people off left and right. I mean what was I thinking. That sounds like a great option to continue to hold out for. (Dripping with sarcasm here and sorry, but there is more to come.)

All along I have been praying that I will not do the typical thing and set my sights on how I see the scenario playing out. For more information on this lovely habit, you can check out this post. I have been praying that I would trust God no matter what the outcome. I have been trying to trust that He does have our best interests in mind, and that He does want to give us "abundantly more than we can ask or imagine"*. But I have also been thinking "Okay God, now you know that we need this amount of money and that we need it fast. So you know that without a job offer ASAP we are really in trouble right? So I know you will make this happen. You have to. You have to."
*Eph 3:20

All the prayers, all the so-called faith that I can muster up, and every promise of God that I have been desperately clinging to lately did not stop me from feeling the crushing disappointment that I felt. The heaviness of what is ahead of us quickly found its way back to me. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I cried only a fraction of the tears that I wanted to cry because my daughter was in the next room. I thought well that is it. We have no other choice. We are going to have to move in with the parents or something. (They may be secretly praying for this so that a) they can have unlimited access to their granddaughter and b) because it would actually be cheaper for them to support us that way.)

I was actually thinking that I might want to blog about this and whine to the world in the state of my despair but I was thinking "Seriously Misty you have got to stick to the subject. What does this have to do with a life shaped by the addictions of others?" "Well actually", I continued to think to myself, "It has a lot to do with it".

All my life I try to prepare myself for disappointment so that it will not hurt so much. I imagine the worst case scenario. I play the scenes out in my mind. I live out the drama in my mind, all so that I can be prepared. But nothing can prepare you. And no matter how many times I have watched my mother relapse, I have never experienced the pain and the disappointment any less. If anything, it only gets stronger with age. No, in all my years; in all the lessons learned; I have never learned a way to prevent it. I've learned ways to cope with it so that it does not rule my life. I've learned ways to set boundaries with people and not get so twisted up in it, becoming sick myself. I've learned a lot. But there is no cure for the heartbreak and the sheer pain that you feel when things do not get better, and in fact seem to be getting worse.

But I have learned to get up and live life post-disappointment. I've learned to count my blessings and enjoy life (very much) in spite of it. I've learned how to find faith again, and then find peace. In many ways life is much sweeter this way. I wouldn't change many things (I'm not gonna lie- I would change a few.) I know that there is more to life than __________.

And so here I am. Caught somewhere in between this inspirational little pep talk I am attempting to give you/myself, and between bitterness, petulance, sarcasm.

"I mean God all the good feelings in the world won't pay my bills.

And God I just really want to go see my friends. Is that too much to ask? Go to this birthday party and that wedding with something to offer. Please?

And God if your will is for me to move back to ______, I just don't know if I can get on board. Sorry."

I sucked up all of the unshed tears today, I made myself move away from the computer where I was attempting to use it as a drug/escape mechanism. I went to the Psalms. This is what God lead me to:

Psalm 124

"If the LORD had not been on our side---

let Israel say---

if the LORD had not been on our side

when man attacked us,

when their anger flared against us,

they would have swallowed us alive;

the flood would have engulfed us,

the torrent would have swept over us,

the raging waters

would have swept us away...

...Our help is in the name of the LORD,

the Maker of heaven and earth."

I am here whining, being honest with my thoughts. I am not listing for you all of the wonderful ways that God is providing for us from day to day. Literally. I am not telling you all of the good stuff. All of the reasons why this psalm is so true of my life. But I will. And I do go over the list in my mind and try to focus on those things. I am still clinging to this promise and so many like them. I am trusting in a God I don't understand. I am trying. But I am also weary.

Reminds me of a favorite lyric by Jars of Clay:

"I'd rather feel the pain all too familiar, than be broken by a lover I don't understand. 'Cause i don't understand."

I may not understand how He works, but I do understand that He loves me. And that is enough. And when I allow myself to forget that, that is when I am in trouble.

Alright, done with the melodramatics for now. :)

Stalling

2008-08-09T18:17:00.000-07:00

Well I've been home visiting all the family this past week. I expected to have a lot more to say throughout the week. Actually I did, but time is precious and cannot be wasted. We go all day every day to try to see everyone. Even now my mind is a bit to wasted and I am tired from cleaning all day and an especially needy toddler tonight. So I'll be back later with more to say. In the meantime, I've been tagged. :)

Rules: One word answers.
1. Where is your cell phone? adjacent
2. Your significant other? sickly
3. Your hair? awful
4. Your mother? generous
5. Your father? disconnected
6. Your favorite thing? family
7. Your dream last night? forgotten
8 Your favorite drink? water
9. Your dream/goal? writer
10. The room you’re in? hot
11. Your hobby? blogging :)
12. Your fear? crickets
13. What do you want to be in 6 years? myself
14. What you’re not? dishonest
15. Muffins? blueberry
16. One of your wish list items? haircut
17. Where you grew up? Texas
18. The last thing you did? type
19. What are you wearing? clothing
20. Favorite gadget? food-processor
21. Your pets? perfect
22. Your computer? neccesary
23. Your mood? weary
24. Missing someone? always
25. Your car? enduring
26. Something you’re not wearing? socks
27. Favorite store? IKEA
28. Like someone? dumbquestion
29. Your favorite color? green
30. When is the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? yesterday

Sisterhood

2008-07-30T22:35:00.000-07:00

I've recently mentioned my obsession with the book series Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. It started out midly. I saw the movie first, years ago when it came out. I cried and was a typical girl. It was easily a favorite chick flick. Out of curiosity and partially out of boredom I checked out the first book and read it. Months later I checked out number two when it occurred to me again. Read it in less than 24 hours. Right back to the library and on to book three. Less than 12 hours. I've waited for book four and actually kept track of it via the online library catalog. PA-THE-TIC. I know. Read it in about four hours. Just finished it about 45 minutes ago.

This is partially because I am a voracious reader. These habits have been going on for most of my life. I have to know what happens. I have to finish the book. Or the series. Part of the reason I don't really read as much as I would like. It is a drug I can't put down.

And it is mostly because I have this obsession with sisterhood as described in books. (Also a huge fan of that Ya-Ya sisterhood by the way.) The idea makes me salivate. Friends, together forever. The history. The committment.

I should be sleeping right now. I tried. I laid in bed for about 30 minutes willing myself to sleep. But it is hot in my house and I can't sleep. I'm sure to make it worse with the glare of the computer screen to stimulate my senses here but oh well.

I had my own little sisterhood once. We were a threesome. Casually formed at first but one day over lunch one of us made the declaration; "I've pretty much decided that you two are my very best friends." Well we took that very seriously. We went forth, full steam ahead. Friends forever. We spent all our time together. We did all of the foolish girly things without restraint. We had rituals and nicknames and we celebrated our history as friends, however short it might have been. We were in a happy place in our lives, together. We wanted to stay that way, together. I moved away and they stayed where they were. But I clung to them more than ever. We travelled and we did what we had to, and we continued to have many adventures together over the next year. Eventually we became disjointed. Things got kind of ugly in some places for a bit. And I'm not here to tell the whole story. But to tell you how much fun it was, how much I learned from them. They are still two of the most important people in the world to me, and still the very best of friends. We have found our way around the hurts and the hangups. We've learned forgiveness. We understand true friendship and that not everyone gets to experience it. We are no longer a threesome like we were. Some bonds are stronger while others are more fragile but beginning to form again. We don't get to share our lives and our time and our clothes like we use to. This is after all what we always dreamed of. We wanted to stay in that place. At least I did. I still want to be there.

That is my point. I want to be in the book where you've known your friends all your life and your histories are intertwined. Or in the book where you raise your kids together, your lives are not your own. You get to be there when one is falling apart. You get to be there, with each other. It doesn't help that my husband is living the dream in some sense. He has the boyhood friends who are still friends, who live near us. He has the package deal. For the time being anyway. And then there were the friendships I witnessed in high school, and in college. Women with friendships that made you take notice. I was friends with them and loved them in my own special ways, but I was the outsider looking in. On the fringe. And all of those girls are still friends too, living the dream. So it makes me a bit wistful- and that is why I read the books and get lost in my romantic notions from time to time.

I was thinking of my two girls, and how it would make for a good post, trying to tie together my romantic notions of the friendship among females with my real life experiences. But I couldn't be paying tribute to them in my mind without thinking of all of the other girls (now women) who have shaped my life with their friendships. The truth is that while I was doing my best to form the next book-worthy sisterhood of my own, I was also living with three other women. One of them was actually one of the aforementioned friends which did make things complicated at times. And even though we were a sort of haphazard group that formed together, united by a bathroom, we were no doubt a sisterhood of our own. We ate almost all of our meals together. We went to class together. We shopped together. We stayed up late over our homemade guacamole, with our ranch dip and pretzels, our Pringles and our Easy Mac. We stole bricks from a sacred building only to be eaten alive by ants who had taken up residence there. We danced and laughed and cried and shared our bathroom. We shared a coffee pot and made hot cocoa in the mornings. And we fought. Oh how we fought. We picked and we nagged and we got offended and we had unrealistic expectations and we tried to fix one another. We grew apart as well. Between the four of us it is much of the same.There was hurt, detachment, anger, unforgiveness, then forgiveness and just plain growing up. There are bonds that have grown stronger, some that have withered away. We don't all four share our lives like we did. One does not quite know how to communicate with the other. We're still a bit disjointed but it doesn't stop us from getting together, staying in touch, loving each other.

And as I think about this, I can't ignore all of the other women in my life who have been friends. It is my girlfriends who were my salvation after all. I always had a good one. With each new school, each move. I always had a second home. I always had a soft place to land. I always had a best friend. The faces changed over the years but the miracle was still the same. This was God revealing himself to me, taking care of me. In the faces of my friends.

The story of my sisterhood is different from those books. We don't have any great pants or secret languages. We don't all live nearby. If you took all the women in my sisterhood and put them in one room, it would surely be awkward.

There are the friends of the past. I have little in common with them anymore. But I love them with a desperate kind of love because I did not always realize how special they were- how special they would continue to be. And many of them will never know how much I still think of them, how deeply grateful I am for their imprints on my life.

There are the friends of the present. The ones who have remained. Some are fairly recent but I already know them to be friends for life. Some just miles away, some hours away, one in another country. But they are my sisters. They are my friends. They are the family that I get to choose. Time and distance are small in the scope of things. I know they are always there. They will always be there. No matter how long I go without seeing them or talking to them, we will always be able to pick up where we left off. There is ease. I continue to see God's hand in the amazing ways that we share our lives despite all the obvious obstacles.

I miss them. I miss butt pats and shared meals and piling in bed together. I miss the laughter and the inside jokes and the daily exchange of information. I will especially miss not raising our kids together and imagining all the ways we can pair them off. It is good stuff. But it is not THE stuff. There is so much more to the love between girlfriends. I might want to find it in a book and get lost for awhile, but the truth is that life is better outside of the book. And no book could hold all of the stories that I keep, the faces that I see; all of these women who join ranks as my sisterhood.

(It is SO late. I hope that in the morning this will still be a logical post.)

Number 7

2008-07-29T11:47:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was my seven year wedding anniversary so I thought I should take some time to celebrate and/or reflect on that fact. I know, it is lame that I didn't actually do this on my anniversary but better late than never.

At church on Sunday, a friend was telling us about the wedding she had been to the night before. She and her husband use to work with the Singles ministry and they had known the guy for a long time. Basically he was much older than the typical marrying age and to some it might have been a small miracle that he was getting married. She pointed out that they really did have a wonderful love story and that it was special to them as they watched how God worked in this guys life to lead him there, etc. But her point was something to the effect of this. Sometimes people who get what they want right away don't truly take the time to reflect on what a miracle/blessing/gift (fill in the blank) that it is when God gives you the desires of your heart. Some of us get married young for example, while there are those who have had to wait until 42 to get married. Or those who have lost babies, or tried for months and years in vain. You get the idea. And she made a wonderful point. But I had to use this as a jumping off point because I was the person she was making an example of. This girl did get married young. Very young. I was 19, and just barely. We started dating when I was 15. We are the kind of couple that people look at in semi-amazement and wonder if we are really happy with our decision. Or if they believe that we truly are, they wonder if we take it for granted. The answers: Yes, happy doesn't begin to describe it. And no, we do not take it for granted. When we were first married we both would look at each other in blissful awe and say "Can you believe we're married?" We would smile and follow with a kiss, or the squeeze of a hand, or something to that effect. It really was a surreal feeling. And friends I can tell you that in all this time that feeling and that knowledge has rarely been far from our minds.

As I said, we were young when we met. It all started pretty normally. We were just another boy and girl pairing off in the youth group. There was some ground laid- masterfully by my husband I might add. A phone call, a first date. We were pretty much joined at the hip starting then so it didn't take long to be declared an item. We weren't exempt from all of the teenage dramatics and on the surface we were pretty typical. He was a senior and I was a sophomore so there were many "we shouldn't be so serious" moments. There were some break ups (very short lived); there were some "maybe we should date other people" moments- also very short lived. There were the two years apart, and a certain blond that almost succeeded in snagging him away from me.

Eventually I wound up at the same school as him. I didn't want to pick a school based on a guy and actually was determined for awhile that I wouldn't go there for that very reason. But God had other ideas and there was no doubt in my mind where He was telling me to go in the end. Finally together again and we had our first substantial breakup. We were confused and heartbroken- completely terrible at actually being broken up because we still saw each other and talked daily, and occasionally forgot that we were broken up, as demonstrated by our somewhat frequent make out sessions. But we agreed that we knew what was on the line. To be married or not? We were just wasting time if that wasn't the long term goal. So we were either going to break up once and for all or end up with a proposal. This was the agreement and we both tried hard to give each other the space to figure it out, although we did a poor job much of the time. About two weeks into it, I had cried all my tears and battled all my demons and threw my expectations out the window and had many long hard talks with God and I was sure. I wanted to marry this boy. It took him a bit longer to figure that out and it is fair to say it was a bit more painful for him. But he did figure it out. Then he bought a ring and had some fun with me for about a month before he let me in on his decision. (Only a hint of bitterness there).

To tell the summarized story is not much. So instead I will tell you of that first date and the ease I felt. Maybe the first time I was able to be at ease around anyone of the opposite sex, and that is one time I am not exaggerating for dramatic effect.

Then there was the little kiss, somewhere in the middle of my cheek, underneath my eye; as he went for it but didn't quite know where he would land.

There was the prayer I said that night. "God, this seems strange and I don't even know if I should be dating right now but he seems really great and if this is your will, please take control from the very start. By the way, I really like him God."

There was the next day, church us consequently spending the entire day together, and him coming in at the end of the day and me not having a chance to worry about what he would think of the cigarette smoke and the shabby surrounding because before I could I found him sprawled out on the dirty carpet, playing with my dog and giving me a smile of pure adoration. If he wasn't oblivious to everything else, he sure did fool me.

There was us, staying up late and talking about what love really meant. Deciding that we would worry more about showing it in our actions than saying it out loud. And when we finally did exchange those three little words, it left no room for doubt or wondering because we already knew what it meant.

There was the unloading of baggage. One night in particular he really opened up and the weight of his disappointment in himself was staggering. I will never forget it. I only loved him more. As you can probably guess, I had a lot more baggage to unload though and he has been the perfect picture of love, acceptance, and patience all along. I went through some really serious depression starting in high school and well into our first years of marriage. Poor guy would come to see me and spend all weekend trying to figure out why his girlfriend was a wreck. He used to sit with me for hours until I could work up some courage and/or formulate some sort of words to try to let him in.

There was me becoming a part of his family- whether he liked it or not. :) I also watched him with his friends. I learned a new way to love, a better way. God was teaching me this above all, but it was all of these new people in my life were giving me a wonderful context learning experience.

There has been us learning together, serving together, growing together. Having the time and space to just be together and have fun. This is the stuff of good marriages my friends.

There is friendship. Companionship. We didn't need to be doing anything special, only to be doing it together. There is laughter and games and a continued ease. No matter what the troubling issues might be at the moment, we have always had this and so we are not so easily shaken by it.
There is him, always rubbing my back, my head, the knots in my shoulders, and never expecting anything in return.

There is him, always remembering to thank me. For dinner, for washing the dishes, for being a good mother. You name it. I always get a thank you.

There is a guy and a girl who make beautiful perfect babies together. Oh and she is a genius too.

There is passion. There are lazy days of watching movies. There are late night crossword puzzles. There are silly games like slug bug and paper-rock-scissors that we play like a sick religion. There are tickle wars, pillow fights, wrestling matches.

There is a commitment to honesty, even when it is brutal. And so there is trust. Pure trust. "Perfect love casts out fear" (John 4:18). There is a commitment to play nice and fight fair. These two have played an especially large role in us enjoying our marriage.

There was another prayer, just before we got engaged. "Dear God, we've really made a mess of things. We haven't done it your way. But I know that you can take all of it and make it beautiful anyway, if you will. Please God take this relationship and form it into something better than we can imagine. Please God."

And that my friends, was a prayer that was answered.

Do I take my marriage for granted? I do my best not to. Each time we pray together we first thank God for all that He has given us. ("For every good and perfect thing comes from Him"- James 1:17). Then we thank God for each other. We know that we are a picture of God's redemption. A reflection of the love He has for his bride.

We are grateful. I just wanted you to know.

My Two Masters

2008-07-18T10:40:00.000-07:00

Well I've started to post a couple of times.... Started being the operative word. I have this really fatal flaw and it is that I do not know how to be productive with free time. I just don't. It really does send me into panic mode. Sometimes my brain will start to fill with ideas, good ideas too I might add. And I might stay in daydreamy mode for awhile. I don't mind daydreamy mode. Then harsh reality mode sets in, which quickly leads to overwhelmed mode. That is where I tend to want to ignore/avoid all things leading up to that so I find myself kind of dragging along in a daze. So that is where I have kind of been. I went from being really busy with three toddlers, to being sick for a week with a toddler that seemed to be taking care of herself it was so easy, to a really busy weekend last weekend, and now here I am in my daze of sorts, with WAY too much time on my hands and not knowing what to do with it. I really hate this feeling.

What I know is that I need to go to work. I am ready for part time work. We need the money. The sweet girl needs some friends to play with periodically so the part time childcare would be great for her. She is so lonely for her cousins in would break your heart. She tries so hard to get the dogs to play with her like her cousins used to, and while they are pretty good dogs and so compliant, you can imagine that it doesn't go so well. So sad. :(

Anyway, I've been looking into some things but it is not an easy thing. Lots of things to consider and lots of obstacles. God will pretty much just have to formulate the perfect job and send it my way for it all to work. Meanwhile, the husband's job scenario is in limbo as well. He has a job, so that is something to be grateful for. But there are a couple of better opportunities on the horizon so we are back to this awful waiting game.

So that brings me to what I wanted to post about. Money.
I've pretty much come to hate money. I know I am not alone. But it has been a really rough season of life. In one of my attempts at posting, I really got off on a tangent rehashing all of life's events but I don't want to do that. I'll just say that all of it has been incredibly difficult and really what it comes down to is that I have been in a major power struggle with God over the whole thing.

It is really easy for me to think highly of myself in this area. Oh what a good steward I would be. How generous I would be. God I could do some really great things if you would just allow us to have some money. This all sounds very laughable I know. Wise as He is, God has not given into my childish requests. Quite the opposite. "Give us this day our daily bread." Turns out Jesus meant that quite literally. We are living from one day to the next not knowing how we will be provided for. We have been living this way for longer than I like to think about. We really do belive that God will provide for us, and that He is able. And He has. Oh my He has. Just not in the way that we want. Not in the easy ways we might imagine in our minds. It has been painful, incredibly humbling. Well it has been brutal. So many people have given to us generously. But they give from a place of need themselves. Talk about ripping your heart out. We've learned a lot about dependence in God's eyes. But I don't want to go too much into all that right now because it's a lot to process, much less explain.

But back to my power struggle. This has really effected every aspect of our lives lately and really a lot of what it comes down to is that I just want to be done with it. I want to scream at God (I do sometimes) and ask Him if He is done yet. Surely our lessons have been learned. Surely.

Well apparently not.

The other day I was talking to one of my best friends in the whole wide world, and she was sharing some of the struggles she has with her family and my heart really does break for her because the love she has for them is so precious that all of the antics wear on her. Her family is precious to me too and I have learned a lot from them. Not exclusive to what I am leading to, but it is one of the ways.

Because of the way that I grew up, it is really easy for me to find myself in that place of feeling like no one else has suffered like I have. It is really ridiculous to say. On so many levels. I know. And there are so many ways that I could not even begin to understand true suffering. But I think it is a result of growing up with secrets. Believing that no one else is like you so if you want to preserve your life, you better keep your mouth shut. It is a lonely place- a breeding ground for self pity. And while most of that has been washed away, traces remain. It was also really easy for me to divide people in my mind by money. We were poor. We were really poor. And for grades 3-7, I found myself around a lot of peers that were not. They were, in my eyes anyway, rich. They had money, and therefore they did not have problems. They were the normal ones, the perfect ones, the ones I strived to be like. I became the expert of imagining all of the scenarios that would save our family and make us normal, and almost all of them included money. In the end it created some sense of "us against them". Even if I wanted to be a part of that world, I was not. And even when I succeeded in fitting in, I was only an imposter. Again, age and experience have taught me otherwise and really helped to crush these perceptions in my mind but the traces remain. Sometimes I still feel like I am from a different world, and that I am only an imposter.

I'm grateful for my friend and for her family because on the surface she does seem flawless in a lot of ways. People are drawn to her and people want to be like her. Her family is just really freaking cool too. But I have the priveledge of knowing this person on a level that many people to do not take the time to see and I know that she is even better than the image. I adore her. But the person I adore, this family of hers that I adore, they are not perfect. And THAT is what I love about them. That is what is precious about them. We all carry burdens and we all wear scars. When we focus on the surface things, we miss out on some of the best friendships and the best intimacies that we can share with people.

Let me stop to insert a footnote of sorts here because I am still not to my whole point, and this friend/experience is only an small link in a chain of people and experiences that have changed my perceptions of these things. But it is a very precious link, one that is always near, always reminding. Plus I will have to honestly admit that I held on the the illusion of her and her family being perfect for some years before I finally got it. :)

I think I am getting closer to my point. I work really hard not to go back and edit myself so that is all part of the fun in following my posts. The truth is as we have been in this awful season of life, it seems that all our friends really have things figured out when it comes to money. It makes me feel pretty bad too because I think are we doing something really wrong here? They struggle too, I know. But sometimes I do feel worlds apart when it comes to our financial situation vs. everyone else we know. I'm back to feeling like an imposter. I should also clarify that when I say "awful season of life", I refer to our financial season. Life itself has been pretty great. The blessings that we have experienced have been overwhelming. We have amazing family and amazing friends, all imperfect yes. But all so wonderful and we share relationships that people spend their whole lives wanting for. Not to mention that I could not ask for more in my marriage and my relationship with my daughter.

But that is just the problem I guess. I am letting the problem of money overshadow all of the rest. All of that which is more important. I am still the little girl who believes that all I need to fix things in the world is a little bit of money. And I expect the God of the universe to yeild to my stubborn plea!!?? I am admittedly trusting in money for my security more than God and I expect Him to give me more of it? Ha! I might very well be a good steward. I might very well give most of it away and be a blessing to others. I really don't want all the "stuff" (not a lot anyway). I just want security. I want to pay my bills and know what to expect. I want to trust in something I can control instead of in a God that I cannot control. And THAT is the problem.

So I just needed to say all that out loud. I really am trying to come to terms with this and truly surrender. I do feel more peace, although I still struggle. And I really am just trying to live one day at a time and see what God will do. I am struggling better but I am still struggling. :)

While I am in confession mode, I must say that I am obsessed with "The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants" series. I have been reading the books when I can find them at the library and I usually get them read in a day. I am such a nerd but I can't deny it. So much important stuff happened to me in my teenage years (meeting my future husband at age 15 for one) and I am just really attached to my teenage self, whatever that says about me.

Naptime is over. I'm posting without the slightest bit of editing. Eek! Oh well, I am pretty sure that new project or not, this blog still has about 5 readers tops. I love you all.

A New Approach

2008-07-08T11:42:00.000-07:00

I've been brainstorming in my mind for several weeks now because I often think of my often forsaken blog and I do long to blog with more purpose but have felt a little lost as to where to start. Incidentally, I am also thinking of starting a new blog to especially chronicle the year that is supposed to be the year of the "terrible twos" with the sweet girl (which I think I am actually going to enjoy very much). But I think I've decided a direction to head with this one, if my new title and updated profile didn't already clue you in.

Let me start by saying that the tears have still been freely flowing since my last post. Again, this is not neccesarily a bad thing. Usually a good thing actually. But it is always a good indicator for me that I've got some healing to do. From what, I don't always know. I wrote a poem about it several years ago. Very amateur but I am still proud of it. I wrote it in the midst of some pretty severe depression:

Drowning

I sit on the couch, paralyzed.
The days and hours pass.
Water fills the empty caverns of my body
As unshed tears flow down,
Accumulating into an ocean within me.

At first it is motionless,
Hidden away in the dark.
The soft, constant trickle gives no warning.
But soon my arms and legs are heavy with its weight.
The icy liquid gradually rises.

My heart goes numb from its cold grip.
Swelling and churning, the water turns to angry waves
Pounding against my chest.
With foam that escapes from my mouth,
And an angry mist that sprays out of my eyes.

I break the surface
And make my way to the shore
Peering back into the water,
Looking for answers in my reflection
But I see nothing but distortions.

Where does it come from?
I can’t say.
Do my tears happen to explain?
Don’t talk, please leave.
I don’t want you to see me this way.

Alone again, only my pride for company.
Soon the waves return; The current is stronger than ever.
Once again I am swept away,
At the mercy of this sea.

Although I'm on the brighter side of that time, I still love the analogy. I still think of the tears that accumulate and what they represent. So when the tears are flowing freely, it means that they are going the right way- leaving and taking all thier weight with them. Instead of building up inside. And like I said, it is usually a sign that God is working on some wound that I have cleverly hidden down below. It is an outward expression of those things I cannot fully understand.

I'm sure much of it has to do with the adventure I have just been on with my niece and nephew, and with thier parents who I also happen to love very much. I say the adventure I have been on, but that is not correct. It is still ongoing. But more to say on that later when I feel ready to look for the words.

The bottom line is that I am surrounded with people who I love very much and who are hurting. They are wasting away in thier addictions and in thier choices and I am struggling to understand and to find my role in it all. Meanwhile I am also surrounded with family and friends, generously given to me by God, who reflect His most perfect love. People who are my safe place to land. This is great but also complicated because 1) I feel like I have this alternative world/ alter-ego type life that I just want to hide away in and 2) there is a constant struggle within me to figure out where I really belong. I'm strung between two worlds and I have a pure and an intense love for all parties involved and I just don't always know what to do with it, or how to cope with the hurt that it opens me up to.

I guess I should remember to mention why I opted for this specific title to get my new little project going. It is two-fold.

First, I need to be reminded that the path I walk is well traveled. Sometimes I get stuck in some sick narccisistic view of things where I actually start to believe that I am the first person to travel this road and that is a scary place to be.

Second, and most importantly, I have been praying about this for awhile- very intensely over the past couple of days and I asked God to give me some scripture to guide me and He did.

Psalm 16:
(Amplified Bible)

KEEP and protect me, O God, for in You I have found refuge, and in You do I put my trust and hide myself.

I say to the Lord, You are my Lord; I have no good beside or beyond You.

As for the godly (the saints) who are in the land, they are the excellent, the noble, and the glorious, in whom is all my delight.

Their sorrows shall be multiplied who choose another god; their drink offerings of blood will I not offer or take their names upon my lips.

The Lord is my chosen and assigned portion, my cup; You hold and maintain my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; yes, I have a good heritage.

I will bless the Lord, Who has given me counsel; yes, my heart instructs me in the night seasons.

I have set the Lord continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.

Therefore my heart is glad and my glory [my inner self] rejoices; my body too shall rest and confidently dwell in safety,

For You will not abandon me to Sheol (the place of the dead), neither will You suffer Your holy one [Holy One] to see corruption.

You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy, at Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.

It speaks to me on so many levels and hopefully some of you. And like I was saying, this reason is especially important because first and foremost I am on this "path of life" that God has so graciously placed me on. And it is also a well travelled path, with a lot to be learned from those who walk ahead of me, alongside me, and even behind me.

I am looking forward to this journey with you.

It's a Wonderful Life. Really....

2008-07-02T19:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I am one of the last people on the planet who has not seen the movie "It's a Wonderful Life". Last night, after finally getting the babe to bed (finally), I decided upon a movie and some rest before getting up to pack and ready for the trip home today- I was at the in-laws house in the hometown which I will get to in a minute. So I watched the movie, loved it, was very moved by it, got up and walked into the kitchen where I was greeted with a picture of myself, my husband, and the babe on vacation last year. We were in mountain bliss, laughing. It's a great picture. And it made me start bawling. I got down on my knees and cried my eyes out for I don't know how long. I prayed without words and let the Spirit intercede for me. It was a complete surrender. I cried like that once before- about two days before my husband proposed to me. This is a long story in and of itself, some of you know it. But it was the same thing then, complete surrender. After months and months of wondering if I was ever going to get to marry the boy, I finally gave up- for real. It is amazing how you can think you are submitting yourself to God, trusting Him, having faith. Pick your phrase. But you think you are doing that. And then comes the point where you realize you really have not because the burden just becomes too much to bear. And then you FINALLY give it up.

So why all the tears? Hard to say really. It has just been a hard couple of months. Well more than a couple. I guess I am just weary. Mostly because I have been trying to carry the load on my own, as usual. The tricky this is that you actually think you are making progress in this area but you aren't. Because time will always reveal the truth. And it is that much more discouraging because you think you may never get this thing right. At least I do.

So I cried all night, and most of today, off and on. My crying- it freaks people out. I know this. I can remember being little and just crying and crying to my mother and she would ask me what was wrong and I would tell her "I just want to cry!" It totally freaks my husband out. He hates to see me cry. I used to do it in the bathroom, in secret. But I don't anymore, so don't worry. Although it was nice to be able to cry last night without an audience (no offense my love). My friend Ashley is totally against this kind of crying. She thinks it is weird. Maybe so. But it sure does make me feel better. And it is good therapy for me, which is what I try to get people to understand. So all that to say that I am not crazy. Okay, I might be. But the crying thing doesn't worry me so it shouldn't you. Not the point of my rambling here.

It feels good to release through the tears all that has been stored up without knowledge. The words and the thoughts and the things that could never be spoken or expressed fully. It is how I lay down my burdens at the feet of my Lord. It is good. Even now there are more tears.

I feel tired, I feel raw, I do still feel anxious mostly because I do not know the future. Literally, I don't even know if the plans we have made for the next few days will even hold water. And that stuff stresses me out. But if I am truly to leave those burdens where they belong, I have to stop creating plans and scenarios in my head in order to be prepared should the bottom fall out. That is certainly not showing trust in my redeemer- the One I am counting on to once again take the broken pieces of my life and make them into something beautiful.

As I was saying, I feel anxious. I feel slightly crazy. I was just talking to a friend and we got disconnected. Well I feel like we've been disconnected for awhile before being logistically that way tonight. But she didn't call me back and it started a tidal wave. I'm thinking that she is just really not wanting to be my friend anymore. I feel rejected and I feel sad and slightly mad because I think I might even have the guts to discuss it with her if I could just talk to her. But I am getting off subject. The truth is that it is very unlikely that this is true. I'm sure she doesn't actually hate my guts. I am sure that I didn't do anything wrong. I am sure. Sort of. I suppose there is a small chance that it is true but doubtfully. Because this is one of the ways that I am truly neurotic. I do this. I have done it with all of my closest friends at some point, not to mention people I barely know. I am a master at finding ways to torture myself. And also it just makes me sad when I love said friends so dearly and just feel, like I said, disconnected. It makes me so very sad.

All this to say that I am feeling like I am not in very good shape right now. But that is how I feel. What I know is that God is most able to work when I am like this. When I am surrendered. When I am vulnerable. When I am painfully aware of myself and all my neurotic little habits. And so I am hopeful. And I am posting about it because I need to remember who gets the credit when things start to turn around. Not me. Him.

I'll end with a few brief details to help make a bit more sense of things. For two months I have had my precious niece and nephew here, trying to be of help to my brother and SIL while they tried to sort some things out. For that time and longer I have pretty much been pissed off at the whole situation. Mad mostly because I have no control and I don't really understand how God works and I guess I feel entitled to do so. Stupid me. Also the pressure of having three kids under three will bring out the worst in you about a million times a day. It is never easy to be faced with all of your ugliness and inadequacies like that. Day after day after day after day... Okay, you get the picture. So leaving them was with all kinds of mixed emotions. Following after months and weeks of the same. I am sure there will be more to be said about all that in the days to come. But for now I am done. I am running out of steam and I guess my rambling has done the trick because I am now feeling tired and ready to go to bed instead of jumpy and psychotic.

By the way, it really is a wonderful life. I have no complaints. Not many anyway. :) Part of the reason for the flood of tears after looking at that silly picture was once again being overwhelmed with all of the blessings in my life. So I just wanted to set that straight.

Also, she called me back.

"Just another Manic Monday"

2008-04-28T16:18:00.000-07:00

Tonight as I was giving the sweet girl a bath, I was thinking "Man I get tired of this." "This" meaning being a mom. Yes, I do think this.* More frequently than you might think. And usually I want to walk out the door and have something, anything else to do just to break up the monotony. The next moment I was pulling her out of the tub and she very unexpectedly said "Big Hug", threw her arms around my neck, squeezed tightly, and even went "Hmmmm". Then she threw her head back, smiled that killer smile and said "Kiss!" and planted me on the lips (which is rare for her, usually she turns her cheek to be kissed). Then she did the same thing at least two more times. By then, I was in such mommy bliss by then that I can't remember for sure. It feels as if your heart will burst. So there you go, a small glimpse into the (psychotic) mommy brain.

*Small disclaimer because my husband will read those words and become very sad and worried about me. But it is pretty normal and across all stages of motherhood. Whether it is nursing to no end and feeling like nothing more than a milk sack, or hearing the dreaded cry in the middle of the night for the 10th time that night, or doing what I was tonight, cleaning poop off of the little hands that found their way into a dirty diaper. It is a relentless job and you don't get many breaks. I get a good amount of breaks because she has such a wonderful job and yet I still find room to complain. It is a job that never ends and I think that is why it gets old sometimes. You can't punch in and punch out. It almost feels like a trap sometimes when you are faced with the weight of your responsibility. But these feelings make up small moments in the span of time, and all the while little blessings are given each day to keep you going. Thus the point of my little blog here. So don't fret my husband, I'm not planning on quiting anytime soon. ;)

Some ranting, some raving, some rhyming and updating...

2008-04-27T17:53:00.001-07:00

Well I figure now is as good as time as any (is that grammatically correct?) to update. I've been avoiding it because I let so much time pass and I guess I felt the need to have something brilliant to blog about. But I don't really. I'm actually quite cranky at the moment. My dishwasher is broken. I turned it on today with the satisfaction of being able to stick a disgusting cutting board covered in chicken germs in and being able so shut the door, turn the knob, and voila! clean, sanitized dishes in no time. Instead my kitchen floor was flooded in a matter of minutes. While I was cooking lunch and faint from hunger. So all day I've been dreading the dishes. I HATE washing dishes. Most household chores I can find a sick way to enjoy, but not washing dishes. I hate everything about it. I hate the water sloshing and getting me wet. I hate the soggy sleeves that I have to roll up again and again and the way the steam makes you feel hot, sweaty, and just gross. I hate the way it dries my hands and makes them pruny and I start to feel like my fingernails might dissolve. And I especially hate the mental image of chicken germs multiplying all over my counter tops and dishes. (She says with a cringe.) Anyway, I just finished a whole sinkful plus a dishwasher full of really gross dishes and I'm cranky about it. Although I suppose there is something to be proud of as well. Usually a sinkful of dishes sends me in to despair and I start to panic and have a crazy anxiety attack as if doing the dishes will suck the life straight out of me instead of take the 10-15 minutes that it actually does. Often I will feel such despair that I find an excuse to avoid them and then I sit and feel like a piece of crap because come on, who is afraid of sink full of dishes? So instead of feeling like a loser and not doing them, I did it and I suppose I can be proud. Especially because there is an unfinished book that I am dying to finish sitting just over there. So instead I am a loser because I have just written how many words about washing the blasted dishes?! I'm sure as my husband reads this he will think once again how he managed to marry such a crazy woman. Oh well. I'm pretty positive he will still love me, crazy and all- and for that I am grateful. :)

I suppose an update of sorts in in order so I will try to avoid any further ranting and raving and switch to the ever popular bullet format:
-Our job situations have been a bit of a nightmare for the past several months. My sweet husband took on a job scenario that seemed very promising and well, fool proof. Meaning it was bound to be profitable and very fitting with a lot of hard work and some time. But after one too many months of stretching ourselves way beyond our means we had to accept that it was time for something new. I have to add that I have seen some really bad days in my life but it was really brutal seeing the sad look on my husbands face when coming to this realization. Anyway, lessons learned and all that and we are moving on. I in the meantime have been through a string of part time job scenarios that also have seemed to be perfect on paper but a disaster in reality. Some of it could be chalked up to poor judgement and just the pain of growing up, living and learning, and all that jazz. But sometimes it just seemed like a beat down. Actually a lot of times it has seemed that way. Like we cannot win no matter what we do. But in the end I know that we are in God's hand, being molded and shaped as painful as it might be. And it has been painful at times. And you can bet I have been like a petulant, whiny child much of the time. Anyway, we are not quite to the end of this journey but there is more of a peace that something will give soon. There are opportunities and prospects and there has been the opportunity for both of us to really sit and be honest about the direction we want to head. We have rediscovered some dreams and that is nice. But more on this later, I am a little tired of thinking and talking about it which is probably the main reason I have had nothing to post about. Sadly it has been all consuming for awhile and the last thing I wanted to do was come and hash it out some more.

-On a lighter note, I am starting to train to run a marathon. I have joined with a cancer society called Team in Training who raises money for Leukemia and other blood cancers so I will be training and raising money at the same time. I am so excited. I have always dreamed of running a marathon so I decided to do it. Having a purpose behind it and people to motivate me is a huge perk so I am really excited, which I think I already mentioned. Right now I am signed up to run a half marathon in Dallas in Nov. but if I can manage to raise a bit more money I can qualify to run a full marathon in San Antonio, or for a bit more I can run a really fun one in San Fran (The Nike Woman's Marathon). Really where and how much I run will depend on the money I am able to raise. So stay tuned, I am sure to be updating on my progress, especially in attempts to score some cash!

-Also, I absolutely adore my child! I cannot even begin to express how much. I am also learning that being a mom does not get easier with time. Lately I have noticed that my child's bad temper is simply a reflection of my own temper. It is amazing how much of the day I spend losing it. It is a hard realization to come to. One minute I want to yell my head off and the next I am so full of joy and delight that I could burst. I laugh out loud on a regular basis at all of her antics. Even for all the ways you are bound to screw up and feel terrible about yourself, you are still in complete awe that you get to witness the miracle of a little life forming before your very eyes. It is entertaining for sure but also nothing short of a miracle. People compliment me on how smart and beautiful and wonderful she is and sometimes I do swell up with pride and let it go to my head a bit but the truth is I cannot take the credit. Not for a moment. I've got to send the praise upward for all that.

-And in case I haven't mentioned, I have one terrific husband. I am so amazed at how unselfish he is and the abundance of love he has to give to me and our sweet girl. Another area where we can't take the credit. But I do have to say that being married to him gets better every day. Lately we have both become obsessed with crossword puzzles. It is very fun. My Grandma B left a book here and we picked it up and were able to do one or two and we felt smart and special and so now we are addicted. And it is yet another area of our lives that we turn into a competition so that is fun too. If you didn't know by now, we are nerds "'fo 'sho".

-Speaking of Grandma B, she has been in the hospital. It has been pretty awful at times. She had to have a pretty extensive surgery and her recovery has been really rough at times. I spent over a week in the hometown taking care of her (and the baby girl, and my brothers, and my niece and nephew....) and it wore me out. Basically there is an impulse to fall apart at the thought of not having her around and I know my brothers felt the same way. Even though I am a big girl now, she has always been a firm place to stand and it does give you a bit of a panic like "NO, not yet! I'll be ready one day but not quite yet!" Something like that anyway. Anyway, she is going to be okay. I came home thinking she would be there another week and found out that she is going home in the next day or two so now I am not quite sure what I will do. It is kind of stressing me out but I think instead of thinking any more about it, I will go ahead and try to hide out for the night. As I mentioned, I am exhausted- and my book is calling to me.

You Had a Bad Day

2008-01-30T19:09:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows the song right? Well I am pretty sure anyone reading my blog would. Heard it on the way home and it truly changed my mood. I was almost laughing out loud. Here is why....

Obviously a lot has happened since I last posted- too much to try to catch up on....I'm trying to simplify my life here ;) But one of the things that happened was me attempting to go back to work full time, and deciding a daycare center would be best because number one priority was continuing to spend as much time as possible with Audrey. Well it was a good idea in theory and I have moved on, BUT it was an awful two weeks.

One of the reasons was Janice. I was put in a baby room with Janice, the lead teacher of five years. She is at least 60, with brightly dyed red hair, glases, a vividly painted face, and abundant wrinkles that made her look like she was scowling constantly. Probably because she was scowling constantly and it just might be true what they say- if you keep making those faces, yours will get stuck! Anyway Janice was not a nice person. She was not a good caregiver. At least not by my standards, which I will admit are unusually high. Anyway, Janice did not like me. I don't think she liked many people. But nonetheless, she was pretty unhappy to have me in her room and the sweet litle babies suffered for it for the first part of the week I spent with her. But for the second half, she was better and I saw many unguarded moments where she was very sweet and loving towards the babies, at least the ones of her own race. One day the song I referred to came on the radio (nevermind the fact that she listened to the radio instead of playing music for the babies and this made me crazy!) and she turned it up loud and started dancing! She did not dance well and as I mentioned, she is an older lady. It was quite a site to see, complete with a towel waving in the air. But this did not stop her. She sang, and she danced, and she clapped her hands and the babies had a ball. For two or three days I saw her do her little dance routine. It was pretty great. So when I heard that song today, I thought of Janice. And I thought that the world is a pretty good place overall- because Janice can dance.

My Old Friend

2007-12-18T21:23:00.000-08:00

I love to read. I love the feeling of finishing a good book. I wish I could put it into words. But it is intoxicating to me to say the least. You are satisfied of course but also a little sad to emerge from the latest little piece of the world you have been emerged in. Much like waking from a really pleasant dream, you try to hold on to the feeling as long as possible. I've just finished a wonderful book, full of all of the things I love- full of beach-loving characters, excellent prose, all about growing up and the excitement of young love which makes me miss my husband so much I can't stand it. I've had the priveledge of being young and in love and there is just so many wonderful things about it. I would highly recommend it. Let's see, it has been a total of three days since I have seen him, not even three full days and already I am miserable. Okay, that is the wrong word. I am not incapable of enjoying anything without him by my side, not at all, but I sure do miss his laugh, his touch, the pleasure of sitting and saying nothing. I'm feeling some need to express my love in a poetic and moving way but I am tired and writing on a screwy keyboard. But to some up- tonight I am a pathetic girl missing my husband.

Blue Christmas

2007-12-09T12:31:00.000-08:00

Well I must offer apologies. Not only have I been slow to post these days but I have been out of touch with all of my dear friends these days. I guess I have been having a harder time with some things than I care to admit. Like Jewel sings in one of my favorite songs, life has "somehow got stuck on survive". That is not a feeling I like. And then I create more insanity for myself because I always set unrealistic goals and expectations for myself and when I fail to meet any or all of them, of course I feel really bad about myself. It's an ugly cycle.

And it is Christmas time and I have no money. You see I love to give gifts. There is nothing better than shopping for the best present. I daydream about what people would like. My imagination is wide and long when it comes to all the people I would love to have gifts for, all the way down to the neighbors on the whole block. If I made a list of all of the people that come to mind, I could probably list about 100 people. Of course I do have a small amount of restrain and try to set more reasonable goals. But nonetheless, even the smallest list seems a too big this year. There is just nothing extra this month and it makes me want to cry. It is worse I think because it is the end of a long year of missed birthdays, trips I wanted to make but couldn't, and other things like that- always waiting just one more week for a little more cash to come in....

I know that Christmas is not about the presents, blah, blah, blah and all that jazz. But it still doesn't make me feel a bit better. When the time comes, I will have fun and I will be grateful for all of the blessings in my life and I will make the most of what we have. But for today I am just going to continue to whine about it and admit that I feel blue. :(

Like a Child

2007-11-14T18:54:00.000-08:00

Dear God, surround me as I speak,
the bridges that I walk across are weak
Frustrations fill the void that I can't solely bear
Dear God, don't let me fall apart,
you've held me close to you
I have turned away and searched for answers I can't understand

They say that I can move the mountains
And send them crashing into the sea
They say that I can walk on water
If I would follow and believe
with faith like a child

Well I know it is not a novel concept but I must say lately God has been using the life of children (mostly my own but also the other 5-6 toddlers I care for twice a week) to really beat me over the head with some things. And I had to quote the "Like a Child" song by my beloved Jars of Clay because I have been listening to it repeatedly.

The husband taught a lesson in our Sunday school class this past week on adversity and used an illustration of a hammer beating a nail, and the nail being resentful towards the hammer unless it is able to see that the hammer is in the hand of the skillful and deliberate carpenter. Well I thought it to be really fitting. I mean laugh out loud kind of irony. I sure do feel beaten down sometimes. And I just as often feel resentful. I think God was pretty explicit in using that illustration. Then Sunday afternoon I took some much needed time to journal and try to get a handle on the crazy array of emotions I have been feeling, and subjecting my poor husband to in the process. As I put it all in writing, images flashed through my head of the toddlers in my life.

Toddler hood is no doubt a frustrating time. The struggle between dependence and independence; trying to use newly acquired knowledge and skills and taking many painful spills in the process; getting angry with the people you trust because they are the people you trust and they are "safe"- seriously how often do you see a toddler have a meltdown with their mother and only with their mother? There are the actual pains of growing- growth spurts, teething, needing nourishment constantly. And then there is learning to play nicely with others. Life is hard enough without having to try to deal with what they throw at you. So what is typical of a toddler in a room full of other toddlers? Throwing fits when they don't get what they want when they want it, pointing fingers and being unable to see past what they need. These were the images that flashed through my mind when trying to be honest with what was eating at me. I was acting like a child. Now let me say that there is nothing wrong with a toddler acting like a toddler. God made them that way and well it is all part of growing up. But I'm pretty sure I should know better by now. Still I find myself in a place of frustration, with all kinds of growing pains, taking all kinds of spills as I learn to apply new concepts. And I find myself taking it out God, my most trusted loved one. Quick to get angry with my companions (the husband mostly) because it is hard to see past my own needs, and easy to point fingers and whine like children do. I tell you what, it has been humbling.

But the other side to this is the beautiful relationship between parent and child. The love of the parent is so tremendous and so beyond the child's understanding. Trust me, starting at day one there are endless moments where you want to pull your hair out as a parent. It pushes you to your limits in every way. It brings out the best and the worst and yet none of this even for a minute does anything to change the enormous affection you feel for that child, nor the compelling need to care for them and give them what they need. Really this is the part where words fail to explain it all and the reason why until you are a parent, you will kind of nod your head and say "yeah, yeah, heard this before" But every moment of every day there are moments where a light goes on and you realize how much God loves you, because you know that the love you feel is only an imperfect fraction of the love He has for us. Matthew 7:11 says "If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"

It never fails to amaze me how the struggles always seem to bring you to a pretty basic truth. It makes me feel foolish to think that I continually have to learn things the hard way, and learn the same lessons again and again. But I guess the fact that it makes me feel foolish is only further proof for the pride that is there, keeping the whole cycle going.

Oh I forgot to mention the extraordinary ability that toddlers possess- that wonderful thing called a temper tantrum. It is truly amazing how long a child can hold out and continue to throw a fit to in attempts to get what they want, right when they want it. I have been throwing some stubborn tantrum like fits of my own and demanding to know why God can't give me what I want, when I want it. Praise God for a heavenly parent who does not give in to these silly tantrums, but instead waits patiently for it to pass so that He can give you what you really need. Because lets face it, a child can be very trusting and have a tremendous amount of faith but at the same time, that trust does not come easily. It comes from trying on your own and failing. It comes from throwing a tantrum only to see it doesn't get you anywhere. It comes from time and a loving parent who is constant when nothing else is, proving to be trustworthy. Faith like a child does not come as easily as you might think. But we are still called to have it. And when it does come easily, it comes from a place of helplessness. You have no choice but to trust because you have no ability to do it on your own. Okay, I'll try not to open up another can of words because I seriously need to get so sleep. If you've made it this far, thanks for hanging in there with me!

Random Happenings

2007-11-07T19:42:00.000-08:00

From today:

We were at the park with Audrey and one little boy told another little boy that he couldn't play with him because he was black. WOW. They were preschoolers! I think Mom #1 would have not batted an eyelash except for Mom #2 noticed her child being discriminated against. Mom #1 trying to pretend to do something was a little embarassing to watch. It was shocking. In my happy little world no one is racist I guess. It completely threw me off. So sad.

I saw the homeless man on the corner tonight and gave him the can of nuts in my car. I was thinking it would be good healthy protein! I am sure he thought I was crazy. I realize this now. Oh well.

I just watched Rascall Flatts perform with Jamie Foxx on the CMA's. The evolution of country music continues to amaze me. But I will say it was not bad. Much better than the Tim McGraw/Nelly fiasco.

I went to yoga at the YMCA tonight. It was intense. 90 minutes long and we went all the way to standing on our heads and such. Okay, so I can't stand on my head. But I really wasn't bad. I think I did really well and I have to say I think I have found a new love comparable to my love for running. You just do what you can and there is always room to push yourself harder. Relaxing and working out at the same time. I love it. I'm afraid this only adds to the all natural, health nut persona that I have grown into over the past year. Really, most of you just don't know how far I've come.

Okay, well I had to stick with todays events. Feels like a pretty silly and mindless post but I'm trying to get back into the habit more than anything. Off to bed now.

Nothing to Say!??

2007-10-25T18:39:00.000-07:00

I know, it's crazy. Sorry that I haven't got much to say these days. I am feeling weary at the moment, in a variety of ways. I'll give you few faithful readers something soon. In the meantime, I am listening to Shane and Shane sing the Psalms, especially this one:

Beauty for ashes
A garment of praise for my heaviness
Beauty for ashes
Take this heart of stone and make it Yours, Yours

I delight myself in the Richest of Fair
Trading all that i've had for all that is better
A garment of praise for my heaviness
You are the greatest taste
You're the richest of fair

(Psalm 63, Isaiah 61)

And also wishing I had the two most recent Shane and Shane CD's.

Ooh, back to edit and add these lyrics. They are good. Did I mention I love the Shane's?
The father of lies
Coming to steal
Kill and destroy
All my hopes of being good enough
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right
Alleluia he’s right!

The devil is preaching
The song of the redeemed
That I am cursed and gone astray
I cannot gain salvation
Embracing accusation

Could the father of lies
Be telling the truth
Of God to me tonight?
If the penalty of sin is death
Then death is mine
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right
Alleluia he’s right!

Oh the devil’s singing over me
An age old song
That I am cursed and gone astray
Singing the first verse so conveniently
He’s forgotten the refrain
Jesus saves!

Say Cheese!

2007-09-24T20:24:00.000-07:00

Well if you read my crazy post from yesterday, let me clarify that I was not fishing for reassurance. Also I was not trying to cause anyone distress. The truth is I have so many wonderful people who do love me and it has made a difference. But it will always be a struggle and it does affect my relationship with God which is why I was writing a novel on the subject last night.

Also, Audrey and I have come to the end of our breastfeeding relationship and it is great! Not only because I can eat cheese now (woohoo!)but because it happened naturally like I knew it would. Also, I have been threatening to give up meat all along, saying that I would when I could have milk products again. So I might just do that. Call me crazy but I think I will feel a lot better. Meat just doesn't digest well for me and I am an all or nothign person. I have to say that I don't think I will stop eating fish though. It is yummy and so good for you, who can debate it really? So what does that make me? Who knows. Just wanted to share the news because I do know that some of you care as silly as it all may sound.

Ok, off to bed.

So here goes....

2007-09-23T21:01:00.000-07:00

I've been keeping a journal on the computer and occasionally think to share here on my blog from time to time but I always chicken out. This one hurts a little to post, but I can't help feeling that maybe someone else will benefit from it. So, here I am copying and pasting on impulse before I change my mind...

23 September 2007
God always gives me little nuggets in the bathtub. I don’t know why I don’t make it a daily ritual. But here is the latest…Lately I have been feeling the frustration of all of my sin and inadequacy. It overwhelms me and I know that so often God allows discomfort and trials of all kinds in order to “sand down” those rough edges. It is painful but necessary. When I am faced with all I lack, I think I am not too willing to go through what it would take to refine those things. I don’t want more difficulties. I want it to be easy. Realizing this weakness, and utter selfishness in myself only makes me feel worse. I say to God “Do what you must.” But I do it grudgingly. I do not look forward to it at all. And I wonder why I can’t pull myself together enough to make some changes and stop bringing the same grief and struggles upon myself that I do. This is where the lightbulb came on. I always go back to the place where I am trying to figure out how to remedy it. I ask God for help and then quickly move on to trying to take care of things myself in the meantime. Most would call this lack of faith. With me, this is not the case. I have faith that God is able and willing to do what He promises. My problem is that I don’t feel like I truly have the privilege of God’s help, and ultimately God’s blessing. I feel this way in all areas of my life. For as long as I can remember, this feeling has followed me around. The feeling of being unworthy of love. Not unloved, but not worthy to receive love. I can’t fully explain it and I really can’t tell you where it comes from. No psycho babble has even come close to helping me put it into words. But here is an example. I can have everyone in my life saying “Wow, you are so pretty!” Of course it is nice to hear but I don’t think, “Well I guess I am”. I think “Okay, this person finds me attractive”. It might make me feel good. It might change me in some small way. But at the end of the day I am not going to say “I really am pretty.” I am going to continue to think that I am not, but be glad that you think I am. It has some effect, but in the end the way I perceive myself is not changed.
Some would think well what happened to her? Who told her otherwise and made her feel this way? What could have possibly been said or done to leave such an impact? The conclusion most would make is that somewhere along the way, someone told me that I was not pretty, or that I was not loved, and I believed it. But I don’t have any memories along these lines. It has just always been there. It makes me feel eternally screwed up. Seriously. There is a reason I don’t like to admit it to myself, much less anyone else.
But back to the original point. This translates into my relationship with God again and again. I hear and I read God’s promises and I believe them. But somehow I deem myself unworthy of it all. I know that there are a lot of scriptures that would speak to this, but it doesn’t seem to sink in. At the end of the day, I leave God behind and continue to try to do things in my own power, and with my own (very limited) resources. I end up exhausted, frustrated, and discouraged. I feel like I am always running and never going anywhere. When I get really dramatic, I start hate myself. I want a better life but feel like it won’t happen for me. All because I don’t feel able to receive His love and His blessing. Along the same lines, I am also seriously screwed up in the fact that I cannot stand to admit need to anyone. I hate asking for things, and I find it really hard to accept a compliment or a gift, or just old fashioned help from most people. I think it all goes back to the same thing. My feelings of inadequacy make me think that people should not go out of their way to do nice things for me. Again, not because I have done bad things and feel like I deserve punishment or something. Just because. These feelings don’t seem to have a source, or one that I can see. It’s frustrating.
So both of these things combined come back again and again and are the thorns that grow throughout all of my relationships, and so much more in my relationship with God. So I get it. (I think.) I realize how foolish it is and I realize that of course it would leave me going nowhere. Or do I realize? Is this just the beginning of a really long road? If so, I must admit I still dread the journey. A lot. A LOT. And I am feeling a little impatient too. Okay, a lot more than a little impatient. Now what? I want to do the typical thing and start looking for answers but I will continue to end up going nowhere until God makes the changes. I don’t want to wait. I want them to happen now, and without so much grief. But I suppose I will only delay the process if I continue to stand in His way. Still, I find myself in very unfamiliar territory.

I hate thinking of titles

2007-09-12T18:55:00.000-07:00

Some random thoughts and reflections from the day:

- I always considered myself a hopeful person. Once I even heard a sermon (preached by the most beloved and respected pastors I have ever known by the way) on having the spiritual gift of having faith. I thought "That's me!" and for years since that day I have held on to that. I don't know if I really have the gift of faith, but I sure want to. I want to bless and change lives by my ability to have faith when there seems to be no cause for it, and to help others do the same. In the past couple of years, my world has been rocked to the core when it comes to the issue of faith, hope, etc. It has been shattered again and again and is fragile to say the least. But I have realized recently, and was so pleasantly able to put it into words tonight, that all the time I thought I was standing on my faith, really all I was doing was believing that somehow a certain outcome, dreamed up by me, would come out of the given situation. Even though I might have believed in it with all of my being, it was not really having faith. Not in God anyway. But now, by His grace, I am able to see that true faith is having the knowledge and the peace that nothing is in vain if you have faith that God is using it for good. For me the most real example of this is hoping and praying for the lives of my mother and brother, among others I guess, to somehow be saved from the death and destruction being brough on from drug addiction. I used to think that my faith would somehow restore them. And God could restore them. He is able to. But only with cooperation. Now I realize that I could very likely see another life wasted, even ended by this crap. But it is still not in vain. My life is changed because of it all, and therefore so will others. Not my usual style to give a concrete example but there you go...

- Moving on: For those who struggle with the idea of forgiveness, let me remind you (as I have gladly been reminded myself) that forgiveness is not for "them". We are called to do it because God said to. PERIOD. If we don't believe that that other person is worthy of forgiveness, then really what we are saying is that we are not worthy as well. Because it is foolish to think that God feels any differently about you than He does about the other person. And to say that they have committed something above forgiveness is saying that you also don't deserve it. At least it makes sense to me that God would see it that way. And just to clarify, forgiveness does not mean that you are saying that what has been done to you is okay. It is also not likely to change that person's behavior. But it changes you. And bottom line is that being angry, hurt, and unforgiving will make you miserable more than anything else in this world. And I think that it is pretty fair for me to say this as I have encountered many miseries in this life but none were so bad as letting anger and unforgiveness take over my life. Again, it was just good to be reminded of all of this today because I am so glad I am not in that place anymore.

- I used to never believe in the idea of "mother's instict". I thought it was for the more touchy feely types who let themselves ride the wave of emotions too much. Man was I a skeptic. But in case I have never mentioned it before, I am a believer now. It didn't take long to change my mind. The irony of becoming a mother is that you so desperately need the imput of people who have walked the road ahead of you. You long to connect with other mother's and have the confirmation that they have had similar experiences. I mean nothing rocks your world more than becoming a parent. And from what I have been told, it is pretty earth shattering each time because you can have a whole herd of babies and they all need thier own instruction manual. But the irony is that while you long for these things, you are also so quick to resent the advice that you are given. I think probably for a variety of reasons, but at the heart of it is the voice screaming very loudly in your head saying "You don't know my baby like I know my baby!!!!!!!!" Really too much advice, or information makes you miserable. Especially now that there are so many books and experts claiming that they know the secrets to every aspect of parenting. At the end of the day you can only retain your sanity when you rely on your gut. Sure, take what you have been given and filter through it. Sometimes is is very helpful. But if you didn't have that mommy radar to guide you and keep you in tune to the little life in your hands, you would never survive. At least I don't think so. So I am no longer a skeptic. Thank you Godfor mother's instict.

-And finally...Someone said to me today in passing "The secret to a happy marriage: two bathrooms". I have to disagree. So much so that here I am posting about it. I love sharing a bathroom with my husband. I love that there is no shame in any of the crazy little quirks we both have. Not to mention the lack of shame in being naked around each other. Man that is freedom for me. And I think that the real secret to a healthy marriage is taking showers together. (Get your mind out of the gutter! It doesn't have to be dirty)

So there is the good, the bad, and the ugly from my mind today. If you have made it this far, thanks for loving me enough to wade through it all!

2007-09-11T18:47:00.000-07:00

Well my sweet girl is officially walking. She has been taking a couple of steps here and there with a lot of encouragement. Today while showing off for her dad she just got so excited and was so apparently proud of herself. She is walking any chance she gets now. It is so crazy. The emotions you feel with stuff like this can't really be explained but the experience is so special. I keep watching the little videos and tearing up like the big sap that I am. Wow. It feels pretty great.

I had some other stuff I thought I might post about but all is lost now that I am all wrapped up in the awe this little person continues to bring into my life. However I do know that even before today I found it strange that I have posted so little about my first year as a mother. Man there was a lot I could have said. Okay, moving on and avoiding the urge to analyze myself to oblivion when it comes to why I haven't had more to say on the subject. But prepare yourself dear readers. It is coming. The Mommy Diaries. But don't let it run you off. I like to hope that I still have other things to talk about.

Ummm....

2007-09-06T20:21:00.000-07:00

I don't have anything to say really. Just letting some of you know that I haven't dropped off the face of the planet. A lot is going on but the details are boring and the bottom line is that I am working hard and very tired, and that my hormones are taking me on a wild ride these days.

Time elapsed: 5 minutes. Seriously, I've got nothing. Maybe next time.

Who needs a cat?

2007-08-14T17:58:00.000-07:00

Well things have been busy around here and the husband and I are both exausted and trudging along as cheerfully as we can. There have been plenty of sleepless nights. But on the brightside, changes are coming soon. In only four more days, it is goodbye crappy bank job and hello working from home. For the boy anyway. Then I am off to work. Yes, you heard me correctly. I will soon don an apron once more and put my excellent waitressing skills to use. The college degree is sort of useless at the moment. Despite what you might be thinking, it was my idea and I am very much looking forward to it. I will only be working evenings which means that I won't be missing much of my sweet girl. And this will enable him to be at home getting his business up and running (anyone need an insurance quote???) and also have some precious time with AK. I will be working at a swanky four star restaurant and wine bar and should easily be able to replace the banking income so things are looking up. It is time for a change. It has been a good year, but definitely a trying one as well. We have both been quite restless and ready for new challenges.

An example: we are trying to be content with what we have and grateful and all that, which for us means trying not to daydream about buying a big fancy house like so many of our friends are doing. But this week has left us wanting to run away. There was the stove exploding as I cooked my Sunday lunch. Fire and explosions in the oven. No lie. And it is dead. This might not be such an inconvience if it were not two days until payday with nothing extra to spare and meal plans that relied on a stove. Ugh.

Then there are the rats. Too bad we can't charge room and board. There was the massive and very clever and elusive rat from a few months back. He avoided the traps for so long that we thought he had left willingly. There seemed to be no signs of him for awhile. Then apparently he revisited, or sent a buddy along. And since our traps were long forgotten, let's just say that it took some foul smells and other creatures to help lead us to him. Then one of his buddies was found a couple of days later. Utterly grossed out and having nightmares, I was at least relieved that those days were behind us. Or not.

So the other night I am up with the baby as usual. It is about four in the morning and she is asleep in my arms but not enough to lay her down. (It is an art I tell you.) I look down and Marlee (the dog) is quietly pleading to go out. So I go wake up the husband and head back to the baby's room intending to sleep there for the rest of the night since she was likely to continue to wake up every thirty minutes or so (which she did). In the meantime Marlee is going a little nuts because it is nighttime and the rats have appeared. Nothing too unusual but the boy heard a noise that made him go investigate. Sure enough there were to sets of beady eyes staring at him from underneath the couch. So he decides he is going to catch them. At any cost. Even if he has to grab them by the tail. So he grabs blankets, pillows, and a laundry basket in an attempt to barricade the couch and set a trap. And then proceeds to stab at them with a Swiffer to get them out. Marlee is standing guard. After about 45 minutes (!!!!), one makes a run for it and gets away despite his best efforts. So he finally returns to the one that is left. Eventually it also finds a way out but runs in the wrong direction. Knowing it is trapped (I guess?), it jumped in the air. Enter Marlee who caught the rat in mid air and quickly killed it. Utter madness I tell you! I should mention that we do have another dog, Macy, who laid on the couch watching the whole thing and very annoyed that her sleep was being disturbed. The funny thing is that the whole time, I was being beckoned from the bedroom to come help. Seriously? The craziest part of this whole story is that he actually thought I would come and participate had I heard him. Gross.

So this is my theory....

2007-08-09T19:25:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you how many times I have looked at moms in awe thinking "How do they do everything that they do?" It is like a supernatural energy that drives them. I have always been facinated by it, being someone that runs out of steam so easily. Even as a mother, I still meet women who amaze me. I met one today and thought "How?" Then I realized how. After months and months and maybe years of living on about 3 hours of sleep, they feel like they can change the world on a full nights sleep. That must be it.

Me, I am no where close to experiencing it first hand. Appropriately enough, she just started crying. But my day will come...

It has to come. It will come right?

In summary

2007-08-01T18:57:00.000-07:00

Well I have had some things I have intended to jot down along the way over the past week but I have not done that so maybe I will try to summarize in the popular list format....

*My sixth anniversary came and went. I have such a wonderful husband. It is such a valuable thing to be able to trust someone with every fiber in you and to also to have a love that you never doubt. I never want to take that for granted.

*So many of my most beloved friends live far away. A couple don't live too far but I never see them anyway. I still have amazing frienships with them all despite the distances but sometimes I just miss them like crazy. I miss hearing the laughter, I miss the chit chat. Having an opportunity to talk about the small amusing details of life instead of trying to cram all the big details into a quick conversation or email. And I miss the girly affections. Hand holding, butt pats, hamster love. I love my more grown up life but sometimes I miss the more carefree days of road trips and the like. But the point is sometimes I miss my friends a whole lot.

*I feel like I have been transformed a lot in the past year, due in large part to being a mother but in other ways too. And I don't think I could really explain all the ways this has manifested itself, only that I have been coming to this realization. It is funny how it is such a subtle process, and always so rewarding. Doesn't seem to keep us from complaining along the way... But anyway, it is something to be grateful for.

Well I think I will quit while I'm ahead. I'm a sleepy girl who only intended to spend about 10 minutes on the computer to send an email and here I've been on for a lot longer than that...

Time flies

2007-07-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

Well for my two or three faithful readers, I know it has been awhile. Things have been too hectic for much thought beyond mealtimes and bedtime and all that jazz. Audrey's first birthday has come and gone. I thought I was going to be a big ball of emotion and sentiment and for awhile envisioned writing some blog about my first year as a mother, witty and very touching all at the same time. Well I wasn't this way at all, and such a blog fails to form in my mind at the moment. I thought I would be sad to see my baby girl turn one but I wasn't. It is too much fun watching her grow and each day is better than the previous, filled with something new. It is an exciting time. But if it isn't obvious already, I can say that I love being her mom. I love it more than I could ever describe. Yeah, all mothers love their babies. This is not news. But somehow I am left feeling a bit more fanatical about it than the average person.

Alright, that is all I have to say. A year's worth of sleep deprivation has been taking its toll lately. (No she still doesn't sleep through the night and I don't know if she ever will.)

Grandma B

2007-07-08T18:21:00.000-07:00

My little grandma is so discouraged and beaten down, and rightly so. It takes a lot to get her that way too. Of all the things that get me down in this world, nothing does quite like seeing this dear woman this way. Really there is not much to be said to make things better but in an attempt to try, I was trying to share with her some scriptures that have been helpful to me in a few days. I will add that I was also doing this in an attempt for her to start counseling me in some way. Usually this will always offer her a nice mental vacation. No one likes to give advice more than Grandma B and this seems to be where I have learned the trait. But anyway, it didn't really work. Instead she said "Misty, sometimes you just get in a state where you can't wrap your mind around the scriptures too well. Sometimes I get to a state where I can hardly grip my panties."

I guess she makes a pretty good point. She usually does.

I was going to stop there, you know, close with a funny line. But I just have to stop for a minute to try to say in a few words how much I love this woman. (I was recently called a sap by a very dear friend and it is true and I don't mind.) Grandma B is a marvel. She has had her share of suffering in this lifetime. More than most, but not as much as some. Going through suffering is not really that remarkable. But she has done it so well that it makes the world sit in awe of her. I don't think anyone who knows her would dispute it. She's not perfect. She intakes her weight in coffee and nicotene everyday. She does love to make use of a good curse word from time to time. She has the horrible habit of telling you exactly what she thinks, and without an ounce of sugar coating. And that temper is a sight to see. I have seen her duke it out with the offending party a time or two. You think I am exaggerating there but I am not. The professionals would say that she is the very definition of codependent/enabler. Maybe so. But I am still in awe of her. I owe her my life. I don't say that lightly either. You see, I belive that she has sacrificed her life and her happiness for mine, and for many others.

If you have a need she meets it. Period. She might chew you up and down and tell you just what she thinks while she is doing it, but she will do whatever you need if it is in her power. I am talking giving you what you NEED, not what you want. She is a doormat to no one. She is the wisest woman I know. And people come from out of the woodwork to find her somehow when they need true guideance. All my life I have seen people show up on her doorstep- people who have been MIA for years and years; people who would have had to go to great efforts to track her down; most often the ones who show up are the ones who in my book have every reason to live in fear of the wrath of Grandma B. But something draws them, and they come, head hung in shame- all just to sit and chat with her. And no matter how mad she might be, she always lends a gracious ear. And she always has the right thing to say. Painful to hear, but true. We even had a dog that would wait for her to come over and keep her company, sitting in the dining room chair across from her and never moving as long as she was there.

She is tireless. She retired about 12 years ago, is pushing 80, and she continues to clean a house a day, taking care of little old ladies and other people with special needs. She spends probably at least two to three hours a day driving people around and getting people where they need to be. Do we take advantage of her? Oh yes. I know that I do. She has been such a solid place to stand for so long that most of us don't know how to live life without her.

One time we were little kids driving in the car with her, following some great family crisis I'm sure, and we asked her why she put up with all that she did. She responded by saying that if it would give us kids a chance at a better life, it would all be worth it. These are the words I live by. I want to make it all worth it for her. Jesus said that true love was someone who would lay down thier own life for a brother. He said to carry your cross, no matter how heavy the burden. I think that few are priveledged to know someone who is such a wonderful example of this. I was raised by someone who is. I know that when she gets to heaven, God will be glad to see his old friend.

My greatest fear...

2007-07-02T09:09:00.000-07:00

One of them at least: becoming an old woman set in my ways.

The question is, does my annoyance at this mean that I am already a young woman who is stubborn, unyeilding, controlling, and "set in my ways"? Man I sure hope not. If I am, it is despite my best efforts.

Uh, one more thing

2007-06-21T19:50:00.000-07:00

Well I'm back for the second time today. I have failed to find any words of my own to talk about life at the moment, at least not any that I am brave enough to share. Which is why I am relying on the words of others. Here is Anne Lamott, from a book that will no doubt become a life alterating favorite of mine- Traveling Mercies.

"All those years I fell for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quickly as possible and as privately. But what I've discovered since is that the lifelong fear of grief keeps us in a berren, isolated place and that only grieving can heal grief; the passage of time will lessen the acuteness, but time alone, without the direct experience of grief, will not heal it."

"Don't get me wrong: grief sucks: it really does. Unfortunately, though, avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, of a sense of living spirit. Mostly I have tried to avoid it by staying very busy, working too hard, trying to achieve as much as possible. You can often avoid the pain by trying to fix other people; shopping helps in a pinch, as does romantic obsession. Martyrdom can't be beat. While too much exercise works for many people, it doesn't for me, but I have found that a stack of magazines can be numbing and even mood altering. But the bad news is that whatever you use to keep the pain at bay robs you of the flecks and nuggets of gold that feeling grief will give you. A fixation can keep you nicely defined and give you the illusion that yoru life has not fallen apart. But since your life may indeed have fallen apart, the illusion won't hold up forever, and if you are lucky and brave, you will be willing to bear disillusion. You begin to cry and writhe and yell and then to keep on crying; and then, finally, grief ends up giving you the two best things: softness and illumination."

So yeah- for those of you who know me best, she is actually describing herself, not me. But all you would need to do is substitute "stack of magazines" with "television or the internet" and there you go. Misty described perfectly by a perfect stranger. So after being beat over the head with it for the upteenth time this week, maybe I've got it. It is grieving for someone that is still alive that is a bit more tricky if you ask me.

A Poem (that I love)

2007-06-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.
Let us go hence together without fear;
Keep silence now, for singing-time is over,
And over all old things and all things dear.
She loves not you nor me as all we love her.
Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear,
She would not hear.

Let us rise up and part; she will not know.
Let us go seaward as the great winds go,
Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here?
There is no help, for all these things are so,
And all the world is bitter as a tear.
And how these things are, though ye strove to show,
She would not know.

Let us go home and hence; she will not weep.
We gave love many dreams and days to keep,
Flowers without scent, and fruits that would not grow,
Saying 'If thou wilt, thrust in thy sickle and reap.'
All is reaped now; no grass is left to mow;
And we that sowed, though all we fell on sleep,
She would not weep.

Let us go hence and rest; she will not love.
She shall not hear us if we sing hereof,
Nor see love's ways, how sore they are and steep.
Come hence, let be, lie still; it is enough.
Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep;
And though she saw all heaven in flower above,
She would not love.

Let us give up, go down; she will not care.
Though all the stars made gold of all the air,
And the sea moving saw before it move
One moon-flower making all the foam-flowers fair;
Though all those waves went over us, and drove
Deep down the stifling lips and drowning hair,
She would not care.

Let us go hence, go hence; she will not see.
Sing all once more together; surely she,
She too, remembering days and words that were,
Will turn a little toward us, sighing; but we,
We are hence, we are gone, as though we had not been there.
Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me,
She would not see.

Written by Algernon Charles Swinburne

As of tomorrow I am Colorado bound for a week of vacation. I'll catch up with you all then. (All three of you :) )

Keeping the faith

2007-06-09T06:39:00.001-07:00

I'm realizing I have a pretty limited view on faith. In my mind, it is most basically a belief in what God is capable of doing. Granted, that is a lot! And brings about its own set of complex answers. But what I mean is that when going through a difficult time, when things are uncertain and scary and you don't know what the future brings, for me the answer is faith- trusting God. And time and time again, my faith (although limited) has resulted in tremendous blessing. But again, I realize how much I have confined this idea in my mind.

Like I said, I always think about faith as trusting God to be capable and willing to provide for me and take care of me. But it doesn't stop there. How often do we sit and worry and fret and cry and even grow frustrated and discouraged, all while claiming to trust God. I don't know about you, but I do it all the time. And well at the end of the day usually my faith (although limited) wins out over my anxieties. And again, God is faithful to me. But what about that waiting process? Did God intend for it to be so miserable? I don't think so.

Some people might say that yes, the misery is necessary. That it causes us to grow, to be refined. And I agree that it does. And I agree that God ALLOWS for it to happen for this reason. But I don't think He CAUSES it to happen. In fact, I think that for a loving God, who is our heavenly father, it is probably really hard to stand by and watch us suffer unnecessarily knowing that He can't intervene for our own good. As a parent, I now understand the difficulty involved in this process. So God doesn't intervene- you know for the whole purpose of that growing thing. But I think He must long for us to see that there is an easier way. That the waiting process does not have to be so miserable.

Which brings me back to my original point. Faith in these situations calls for so much more. Of course the root of it is what we believe God to be capable of doing, and this is the most important. But what about extending that belief?

-To trust that God is not only capable but eager to bless your life?

Why do I always buy into the lie that God is capable but that I didn't do enough to earn it. Hello! The moral of the story is that we don't get what we deserve, and that salvation can't be earned. I know this in my head, but obviously my life does not reflect it when I am content to believe this.

-To trust that God is not only going to provide what we need, but that he already has.

So many times we sit and whine and worry over what WE want, and when we are professing our faith in Him, what we are really hoping is that if we do everything we are supposed to, and try to have faith and obedience, God will give us what WE want. So we sit and wait for something that may or may not come about, all the while missing out on the fact that God is already answered our prayers, and already provided what we need. We just don't see it, don't want to wait, and are limited by our own desires.

Okay, abrupt ending but that is all I have to say. Just the workings of my mind thrown out in a big hurry. Hope it's good because I'm not even going to re-read it. I have an opportunity to nap and it is calling to me.

I think I missed out on spring cleaning....

2007-06-07T08:10:00.000-07:00

I always say that I am the laziest obsessive compulsive person you will meet. I am a terrible procrastinator, and I can let some things go for awhile, sometimes a long while, but when I get ready to take care of business, I want to do it NOW and I want it done RIGHT. No exceptions. And the best thing for anyone else to do is stay out of my way. When it does not work out this way, and often it does not, the end result is being completely overwhelmed- with a lot of stress and sometimes a meltdown.

I first saw evidence of this with my housekeeping. First I must say that I was raised by women who set the standard on clean. I would put them in any competition to see if anyone could beat them. It is a heritage to be proud of. But at the same time, with two compulsively clean women around all the time (this would be my mother and grandmother by the way), I very rarely had to do any of the actual cleaning myself. When I got to college, and then married, I hated the look of an unmade bed (still do) but never managed to remember to make it myself until much later in the day, if at all. Growing up, I would come back from the bathroom to an already made bed. No joke. So my typical pattern is for things to get slightly messy, sometimes disgracefully messy, and for me to get to a breaking point and clean my whole house from top to bottom, with floors you could eat off of, and shiny sparkling everything. Okay, so that is how it used to be. This way of doing things hasn't worked since the pregnancy test showed up positive. The result was a house so messy it made me crazy for months, followed by brief periods of cleanliness usually the result of much effort and outside help, then the current situation where it is finally sinking into my thick head that if I want to enjoy a clean house, I must work on it continually. I must hang up my clothes several times a day (yuck), wash dishes after I use them, check on laundry more than once a week, and sweep the floors almost every day to keep my daughter from looking like a human Swiffer. And trust me, it is work. I very rarely have the chance anymore to do the deep cleaning that gives me a strange, pathetic high. And when I do, it is one room at a time, not all at once which makes for all the fun. Meanwhile, messes like my computer desk and my closets show no promise for being cleaned and straigtened for a very long time. And even with the small progresses I am making in daily upkeep, more often than not I fall right back into my old patterns. I put things off just one more day until the mess takes over the house. Then I start working on a few things at a time, you know because that is how you are supposed to do it. But nothing ever seems to be clean and put together all at once, the way I like it. And this is where the obsessive compulsive behavior really takes over because if it is not the way I like it, then what good is it?

Anyway, I got into way too much detail about all that and if you are still with me, then I am surprised. But thinking about my insane and compulsive housecleaning habits the other day did help me to realize that it doesn't just stop there. I have been feeling like a walking zombie for a couple of weeks now, cranky, slightly blue, and just out of it and for no reason that I can find. Usually when I start to feel like this, I take a look at some of the big issues in my life, or start looking for the last crisis that happened that I have yet to process, and I ponder and I think, and I meditate, and cry if need be until I resolve it. But what if there is no crisis to blame or big issue to resolve? Then what the @(%* is wrong? That is kind of how I was feeling. (fake curse word needed to portray my crankiness) Meanwhile the people who know me best are asking the same question. Finally I realized that I'm no different in the ways that I keep my house and my mind. Thoughts and emotions build up like piles of junk mail, or cobwebs in the corner, or something stinky lurking around the disposal. Not neccesarily big things either, just small ones. And then before long, I am overwhelmed by the mess in front of me. Not sure where to start, or which mess to tackel first. Wanting to quit before I even get started. Keeping myself busy with other things so that I can ignore what's in front of me. But it doesn't work. And you would think that I would get that by now. But I haven't seemed to grasp it yet. So here I am sorting through my junk mail and attempting to clean out the corners of my mind. I'm also working on that foul odor I've been carrying around with me for the past couple of weeks.

Thanks to those of you who so graciously stick out the smelly times with me.

Checking in.

2007-06-01T08:06:00.001-07:00

I was in the hometown for 10 days. Actually had a good time. Usually visits there are just stressful and tiring but this time it was different. I guess mostly because I am slowly learning how to not stress out so much about making everyone else happy. Or maybe it was just a fluke. Either way, I'm grateful for good times spent with family.

I have got nothing to post about. Nothing positive anyway. I have been cranky the past few days and I don't know why. Anyway, there's a small update for you. Now I am off to take a rare and precious nap.

Redeeming Love

2007-05-12T10:54:00.000-07:00

It's a phrase you hear a lot if you run in my circles. Most of us don't put a lot of thought into it anymore because we hear it so much. But this is what God seems to be beating into my head lately. Of course, it has been the subject of our sermon series at church. (Sound familiar?) But also, it seems that all the people I am surrounded with these days are a reminder of the importance of redeeming love.

redeem(v.) To recover ownership of by paying a specified sum.

There are several pictures of this in the bible. Ruth and Boaz. Hosea and Gomer. I'll spare the bible lesson, mostly because I am sure I would butcher it, but the bottom line is that marriage is meant to be a reflection of the relationship between God and ourselves. These marriages would not make it to any television show or magazine cover. They are not glamourous or full of romance and warm fuzzies. They are a picture of love that is without conditions. Love that is given whether or not it will be returned. Love that is given even when your beloved is cursing you, pushing you away, running towards all kinds of other "lovers" who mistreat and abuse. Love that is given to someone considered ugly and unworthy. Love that transforms. Such a different picture of what the mainstream ideas of love and marriage are.

The bottom line is that when we set aside the disguises and the pretenses, deep down inside all of us is an ugly, unlovable, and undeserving person. And deep down all we really want is for someone to love that person. Not the person we pretend to be. It doesn't always happen. I'd venture to say that it rarely happens. More often we sabotage ourselves and do what it takes to keep others, especially the object of our desire, away from that innermost self. We also try to hide it from our own view. But it is always there, always reminding us. Always creeping up and making you think "would they really love me if they saw all this?" It's no new thing to do this with God either. And hello, He sees is already! But even knowing that He sees it doesn't change the deeply held fear that surely no one could love all that. Does this sound familiar to anyone? Meanwhile, we continue to long for that love. And we look for it in all the wrong places. Something is better than nothing right? Let people close enough to give you a little bit of what you need or want, but not quite close enough.

I think that the real beauty of things, the real "meat" when it comes to ideas of love, is letting that person in. Letting them see all that you fear to reveal, and being loved in spite of it all. Isn't that what we all really want? So, whats the problem? The problem is that someone has to be the one willing to love you, the unlovable. This means that for it to work, we all have to find a way to love people when they are ugly. When they are wrong and you are right but they don't see it. When they cuss you out, tell you they hate you, push you away, won't let you in. When they consistently put themselves first and leave you feeling unimportant. This is the part that sounds like craziness to most people. But it is what God commands us to do. It is also what we fail to do most, and I believe the main reason that God and Christ are so poorly misrepresented. Because we claim to follow Him, but we don't do what he asks. The fact is, it is hard to love someone in that way. It goes against everything that is in us. Afterall, we all share the same selfish, sinful nature which means we all want to protect ourselves first and foremost. So yeah, it is hard. It is possibly the hardest thing that most of us will face in our lives. But why? What's the point? Because it is this love, this true love, that changes people. This is what redeems us. To be redeemed means someone paid a price. Love given without condition, through toil and tears. This is the price that is paid. Christ gave all this and his life. We are asked far less in comparision. This love. This redeeming love. It is what sets us free from that ugly person we try to hide but cannot. It is what motivates you, inspires you, and keeps you going when there is little else. It is what makes life have a purpose. To love and to be loved. (In the RIGHT way!) If you have experienced it, you know what I am talking about.

I am blessed to have experienced this kind of love, first from God, and also from others. No one tried to push it away more than me. I didn't feel worthy. I am also blessed to see people around me setting a good example. I am blessed with friends who are caught in the struggles and the heartache of trying to muster up this kind of love and save/build a marriage that cannot be destroyed. It is a reminder of how vital this love is. All that is left besides this are vain pursuits if you ask me. It is also a reminder of all those who need to be redeemed. And most importantly, a reminder that we need to be so grateful to God, the original redeemer, and for those who take his redemption and translate it into action in this lifetime.

DEREK WEBB lyrics

Ode to Toni

2007-05-11T16:27:00.000-07:00

A few words in Toni fashion....*

-faithful
-determined
-joy that is contagious
-hardest worker I have ever met (okay, maybe a tie with Grandma Betty but that is big)
-articulate
-intentional
-commanding presence
-genuine
-refreshinly blunt
-sensitive
-CLEAN (its next to godliness)
-laugh out loud funny
-servant

When I think of her, I think of....
-sweet tea
-all tea for that matter
-wal mart
-grilled cheese sandwiches
-ranch dip and pretzels
-6 man football
-picnics
-great photography
-pretty feet (hers and her promotion of others having them too)
-brown flip flops
-the worlds loudest alarm clock
-orange construction cones
-Roark fan club

What you see is what you get, but if you take the time to look deeper, there is even more goodness to be found.

I know that she loves me and I have a card with a LONG message to prove it. :)

She's the only girl I love to see cry.

*This might make little sense to anyone but that's okay. It will make perfect sense to the one its written for. Happy late birthday my friend!

Book Lust

2007-05-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

It's a book and I've got it. Very exciting. The mark of a true friend when they get you such a perfect gift.

You see, I have always felt like a fraud calling myself a book lover because I know that there are way too many great books that I have not read out there. It is shameful. And when I go to the bookstore or library, my mind goes blank and I never know what books to get. Somehow I always manage to overlook the more quality ones.

But no more. I now have a list of books for every mood, purpose, and category you could think of. As I said, very exciting. Happy Birthday to me and thanks Ash!!!!

Need to know a good book? I'm your woman.

A few of my favorite things...

2007-05-03T17:27:00.001-07:00

(Yes, this is a double post for those of you who also read Audrey's blog)

*The fact that most times while I am rocking her I can think of nothing but "go to sleep, please!!" But it never fails that everytime she gets there, I can hardly stand to put her down.

*The way she copies everything that I do. Even coughing.

*The annoyed face she makes in between the time I unlatch her sleeping self and stand up and start rocking. She is very particular.

*The fact that she is very particular and somehow finds a way to communicate this to me.

*Her many laughs (depending on who she is trying to mimic) and the fact that she loves to have my full attention. When she has it, she turns on the full charm.

*The way that she nuzzles her face up against my chest no matter what mood she is in.

*Her perfect combination of sweet and cuddly and friendly and independent.

*Those big baby blues. That's how her dad won me over too.

*The fact that when she is getting into something she is not supposed to and I say her name with menacing warning, she smiles, waves as if to say "thanks, I'm good", and continues about her business.

*The way she puts her finger to her mouth in deep thought.

*The deep thought she puts into everything. She definitely thinks before she acts.

*The way she expects me to kiss her hand while she nurses, and pulls my hair to remind me when I don't.

*And finally, that big gap-toothed smile. Nothing better than that.

#$@%^&

2007-05-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

Cursing. Don't know why but this is what I was thinking of while rocking the sweet girl back to sleep just now. And no, not because I felt like doing it. Although that has happened a few times in some miserable, sleep deprived states. So, just some random thoughts on cursing for your reading pleasure.

Personally, I generally hate to hear people do it. I think that this is mostly because I grew up around a bunch of uncles and thier drunk friends who were always cursing. I just find it generally unpleasant. I also hate when people do it to sound cool or with the purpose of proving the point that they are "just another word". Obviously curse words are not just regular words. They may have started out that way but they have way too much meaning attached to them for this to be true.

However, this does not mean I am Misty, the patron saint of no cursing. I don't know why I think it will make me feel better, but you can bet that in times of frustration, anger, and sheer exaustion, a few choice words are resounding in my head over and over again. While waiting tables I use to say them under my breath. It never really worked to alleviate my frustration but I kept trying. Then there are the very few people who have actually heard me say a few choice words out loud. Again, let me say they are few. And they are special because I only let myself get carried away in the moment when I am really serious about something. And it usually has the desired effect. Lots of fun memories playing in my head here. And a few not so fun ones as one of the frequent targets of my cursing is my mother. But to get back to my point, I have seen it, if ever so briefly, pull her out of a drug-induced stupor a few times. The special person who has not heard me curse (I don't think) is my sweet husband. I hope he never does. For some reason the thought bothers me. And as I say that, I can think of a few times he has. But overall, we avoid it around each other. Kind of an unspoken agreement and I don't know why, but I like it that way.

Also, I must admit I from time to time enjoy hearing an unexpected person dropping a four letter word. My grandma B for example. Or any grandparent. Hilarious. Or a sweet friend. I guess it's a nice reminder of how we are all human. Not sure that is how God would have me feel, but it is how I feel nonetheless.

So, there you go. Told you these were random thoughts. Your wondering why you bothered to read it? H#@^, I'm wondering why I just wrote it. Probably because it is time for bed.

Bragging Rights

2007-04-26T13:50:00.000-07:00

Woke up this morning to a sweet email from my husband who spent the night away. It was so sweet and encouraging, full of real praise. But the best part was that it was no surprise. He is so diligent in expressing his love and appreciation for me that it is nothing out of the ordinary. The sweet words are always nice to have but so much sweeter are the actions that back them up every day.

Flashback to almost 9 years ago on my birthday when he told me he loved me for the first time. I arrived at track practice and he was waiting with a card. He left, I read it over and over, and passed it around to all the girls. Typical stuff. And it still makes me giddy today to think about it. Even being so young we both were deliberate in our declaration of love to each other and it was followed by years of ups and downs and uncertainties until we were sure we really did want to spend the rest of our lives together. But in all that time, even when we were attempting to be "just friends", he has never failed to be anything but loving towards me.

This includes many days where I have been very unlovable and determined to push people away.

So, I'm a very blessed girl. I love my husband a lot. I thought you should know.

"Singleminded to the point of wrecklessness"

2007-04-25T18:55:00.000-07:00

Used to describe a girl in a movie. The phrase always stuck with me and comes back to mind because sometimes I feel the opposite...."openminded to the point of wrecklessness" And I use the word openminded simply for lack of a better word. Pretty self explanatory and yet I feel the urge to explain myself. The peril of my condition.

In general I love information of any kind. I can't help but to take it in. My mind is like a sponge. A giant one. And I have a hard time processing it all sometimes. It's all just jumbled up in there.

People, places, words.Politics, religion, literary devices. Baby and parenting books are like crack to me and all they do is screw me up. Most of the time I see both sides of the story. My mind always goes to the exception to the rule. And people just flat out facinate me. It's intoxicating. I can't get enough. And the more different and outlandish, the better.

So back to the jumbled brain. It's cliche but the phrase "ignorance is bliss" comes to mind. Meaning I wish I could find such bliss sometimes. It seems like the people that actually get things accomplished in this world have a more narrow view. Not saying that is a bad thing but is it the only way? So much of what I take in gets lost in translation. I fall short when it comes to transferring it to action, or even good discussion. Oh how I wish I could be a master of the written word like so many I admire. When I do talk (and especially when I write), I always give way too much information and try to say too much all at once. Only a select few benefit from anything I have to say because they are well practiced, or very convincing actors.

Sigh.

I have so many things in life that interest me, that get me all fired up and passionate. But often I stay in the safe zone because it all seems to be too much to take on. Oh to be singleminded. That's just how I feel sometimes.

Melancholy whining over.

Medicated fog

2007-04-22T18:12:00.000-07:00

We have a mouse in our house the size of a guinea pig. And just as furry. It came out of hiding the other day. It also seems too smart for traps and we have no idea how to get rid of it.

My resolve is weakening and I want to eat pizza and ice cream so bad I can't stand it.

It is shortly after 8:00 and the hubby is out with the boys and I think I will just go to bed.

Life is sure exciting around here....

"Pull Yourself Together"

2007-04-18T13:18:00.000-07:00

Ironically enough, this is the title that jumped out at me in Oswald Chambers lovely book "My Utmost for His Highest" as I flipped through it. Some highlights:
"The Redemption of Christ is not an experience, it is the great act of God which He has performed through Christ, and I have to build my faith upon it. If I construct my faith on my experience, I produce that most unscriptural type, an isolated life, my eyes fixed on my own whiteness....It is of no use for anything but a sequestered life; it is useless to God and a nuisance to man."

It is no new thing, but lately I am so frustrated with this type of so-called Christianity. I mean Jesus said that the world would think we were foolish but I don't think He meant in this way. Sometimes we really are such fools. Why, for example, the numbers contest? This is not a new idea. My mind goes back to Spanish conquistadors coming over to the new world for converts at any price. One example of many like them. My fellow Baptists might be the worst about the numbers game right now, but I wouldn't know for sure.

Jesus said: "Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." (Matt 7: 13-14)

Okay, so yes, He did tell us to tell everyone about himself, but still seemed to know that few would actually listen. Maybe it is just me, but it doesn't seem like we are supposed to be to concerned with the many people who choose not to believe, but in the few who will.

And why oh why do people get into fighting matches about who is right and wrong? I, a Christian, am talking to a non-Christian, who does not share in my faith and belief system. Won't take an arguement to let me know that we are going to disagree on some things. And even if we can engage in an intelligent exchange of ideas and information and (heaven forbid!) learn something from one another, it won't happen if one person (usually the Christian) resigns to the idea of "I'm right- your wrong and I don't care to stop and think about why". I realize that Christian beliefs are founded in the root idea that it is the "right way" and therefore there is a "wrong way" but does anyting get accomplished by fighting like some kids in a school yard? There has to be a better way. Even more sad is the fighting that goes on among believers. Yes, we have to hash out our doctrines and how they are in line with scriptures, etc, etc. I get that part. But this gets taken too far too much of the time. Our churches are divided and some of our most intellectual and spiritual giants are too busy trying to prove to the next guy that they are right- forget trying to pass on the wisdom.

One more random thought and I will move on... I don't think it is the idea of God that people have such a hard time with. People believe in the spiritual realm of things all too easily (this is generally speaking) I mean there is a whole section in the bookstore of spiritual solutions: "Do X and Y will happen" People pay good money and spend lots of time rearranging a room so that the bed faces the ulitimate position for prosperity or something of the sort and yet they can't have faith in a God they don't see? I don't buy it. Most of the time, people just don't like the idea of a God that requires that they center their world around something other than themselves. We are selfish. God says that we are not to be. It's hard. And people don't like that.

So those are just some thoughts that aren't too strongly developed and I am sure they are full of stereotypes and generalizations but I thought I would jot them down anyway. So feel free to comment or offer a different perspective. I would welcome it. I might be doing a poor job, but I'm sort of desperate to take my mind beyond the realm of "mommy" from time to time.

I wish I had these bags because I was going on a trip....

2007-04-09T07:37:00.000-07:00

Well I have not forgotten my lonely little blog here. Just struggling to find something to write about. Periodically throughout the days and weeks, I have beautiful moments of inspiration and intend to write them down somewhere- blog or otherwise, but never do. The red light turns green or Audrey laughs and the thoughts are gone; never to be found again. That and I am so stinking tired. Months of sleep deprivation are catching up with me. Last week was especially bad. I still manage to dig deep and find some patience most of the time (I have weak moments and it is a good thing that Nathan is around to intervene at those times) But I notice it most when I am driving (scary, I know), or like now when I can't manage to type or spell. I have hit backspace more than anything else so far. And then there was the other day when I put a knife through my hand trying to get the pit out of an avacado- no worries, I am okay. But seriously, I am starting to feel like a giant idiot. I suppose that this too shall pass. Hopefully sooner rather than later. So, because I have nothing better to talk about, some highlights from the past few weeks:

- Still determined to find my place at the Y (MCA), I went to aquacise. Lots of little old ladies, the smell of chlorine which I am addicted to, and a sit in the jacuzzi afterwards. All a recipe for enjoyment but it would be a strech to call that a workout. So then I went to "low impact aerobics". Again, there were lots of little old ladies. I almost left to find a better workout but stuck around as not to insult anyone. And sadly, I got my workout. I was sweaty and sore the next day. Those little old ladies are buff!
- In addition to the already crazy allergy diet for Audrey's benefit, I have now decided to give up beef for my own benefit. It literally just makes me sick. This has led me to turkey in its various forms and so far, GROSS! I know lots of people out there like it so clue me in on the goodness if you can...
- Since quitting my job at MHMR last year, I have often wondered if my time there was all a waste of time. Did I actually serve a useful purpose or just temporarily fall into the trap of "talking the talk" and only tricking myself into belieiving what I was actually doing was beneficial? Most of the time I decide that I did sell out for awhile and contribute to the idea that the mental health system in our state is actually adequate. Now, after weeks of trying to find a helpful solution for my very ill brother, I am certain that I did. Forgive my bitterness but the mental health system in Texas is crap, full of nothing but the "right" stuff written on paper to make the taxpayers and politicians feel better while the actual workers are ill prepared and given almost no tools to actually help people. Wow- sorry to go off on a rant.

On a lighter note, I have also:
-Paid bills, didn't have enough money for a much needed haircut, and decided to take matters into my own hands and see if I could cut my own hair. It was noble effort but I still had to go to the beauty school for damage control. All that to say that I have returned to my short hair and been wondering why I took so long in cutting it all off.
-Borrowed from my friend the 7th grade reading teacher and been indulging in my guilty pleasure of reading children's novels.
- Daydreamed about writing my own novel one day.
-Had tea and a delightful afternoon with an old friend.
- Discovered a creature in our midst (my guess is a giant, scary mouse- nothing like the the one we had before and remember affectionately-who stole all our peanuts and hid them all over the house.)
-As usual, been loving my hot husband more every day.
-Been thinking that maybe I should work a couple nights a week at Whole Foods. I am literally in there every other day and am starting to think maybe I should throw on a smock and attempt to work off what I owe.
-And finally, been forsaking more important activities to write this blog. Gotta go.

So what

2007-03-29T15:36:00.000-07:00

You know how most teachers used to say that when you wrote a paper, your conclusion needed to be your "so what" statement. I kind of feel that I am at that point in my life. At least to that point in this chapter of my life. It really is true that the introduction and the body of the paper mean very little if you can't sum it all up at the end and find some relevance in it all. I don't intend to take the time to explain the grueling details leading up to this "so what" statement of my life right now. Maybe some other time. Right now I intend to focus on the task at hand.

It is funny how the mind and spirit work. You can hear words, truly believe in the meaning. For the moment you will be inspired, encouraged, challenged. But hearing and believing are only part of it. When events in your life translate those words into truth, they become a part of you in such a deep way that is unexplainable for my little brain. And then it is more than just reading and believing. The words are now part of you. The help to define you.

All this to say that in coming to this period of "so what" I have to rely on the words of another. How about I use Jesus himself?

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5: 3-10)

And another version:
"You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
"You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.
"You're blessed when you're content with just who you are—no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought.
"You're blessed when you've worked up a good appetite for God. He's food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.
"You're blessed when you care. At the moment of being 'care-full,' you find yourselves cared for.
"You're blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.
"You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family.
"You're blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God's kingdom. "

I put both versions because the latter (from The Message) I used to have written on a piece of paper and stuck in my school notebook. I referred to it so many times, often in tears, when I needed encouragement. But these are if-then statements and you don't get from the "if" to the "then" just by reading along. We have just finished a sermon series on this passage at church and I couldn't begin to try to rehash all the life changing words that have been spoken to me over the past few weeks. But the things that kept resounding in my head week after week were the fact that I could, in all honesty, stand up and say without a doubt that I was so poor in spirit, that I had mourned more times than I could count, that I was meek, and that I had been so hungry and thirsty for something better that I was certain, without it I could not go on. And the best part (the "so what") is that I could just as honestly say that God help up his part of the bargain.

So much of my life has been defined by the things I have had to endure, which are more than the average person, but definitely not close to what some have had to endure. Thus far I have lived most of my life in survival mode and/or depression mode. Starting in high school, up until about a year or two ago, the depression was most severe. The irony is that most of that depression was not a result of the events in my life, but instead was a result of things I had control over- most of which were pride and anger. Two things I held to for dear life as I trudged through the difficult times. The years of most severe depression were filled less with the heartbreaking moments but more with the pride and anger. Oh and I almost forgot the other key player- fear. Get the picture? Anyway, back to the Beatitudes- the secret of my success. God's success actually.

Poor in spirit, mourning over the effects of sin in my life and in the lives of others, being meek and knowing that I have no hope if I stand alone- these are the ways that I have found my way to more blessing that I could ever imagine or deserve. Left to my own devices, I would still be miserable. So, in addition to the many blessings already mentioned, I have been given the gift of relevance my "so what" statement.

But more than relevance, the "so what" also gives direction to the reader. What will you do with the information you have been given? That brings me to the second half of the passage. If being honest, I can say that I lack more in the areas of showing mercy, having a pure heart, being a peacemaker, having an appetite for the things of God instead of the things of this world. We are always looking for our "purpose" in life but we need not look. It's all right there. I have a purpose. I have directions. Why get caught up in all of the details of "how" and "why" and "where will I be in x amount of years". There is no life plan for being merciful, or a peacemaker, or having a pure heart. You just choose to be any and all of those things every moment of every day. With every opportunity you meet and every reaction that you have.

Man it feels good to know that I don't have to have the next 10 years planned out.