Have you ever missed someone who's gone from your life? Someone you've lost. A close relationship that didn't last. And, I mean missed them so much that you physically hurt?
I'm sure you have.
But, have you ever missed someone who's never been in your life? Missed a relationship you never really had? Missed it so much it doubled you over in pain?
(I think it's important to note this isn't the first time I've written about this. That's how painful it truly is for me.)
The truth is that before I get too far into each and every day, I am physically sick thinking about my mom. I would like to say it's only been that way for a few months, but looking back I realize that as early as this summer I said something similar.
My mom, the woman who gave birth to me, is very much alive. As I've been told, she proudly displays photos at home and work of her two sons and grandchildren. For a brief recap, the last time I spoke to my mom was early September 2007. I shared with her that I was being baptized. She hung up on me and I'd not hear from her again.
The separation between us has been the healthiest thing for me. I am much healthier and safer to not have a relationship with this woman.
In all honesty, she isn't a mom. She really is just the woman who gave birth to me. I know some people would argue that giving birth to me should be enough to warrant some respect for her. Those same people would not understand the real monster I know her to be.
My mom horribly neglected all of her children, physically and emotionally. She never made sure our physical needs were met. We weren't given proper direction in hygiene nor adequate supplies. She didn't make sure we were fed. We lived in filth. She failed miserably at making sure we were cared for when we were sick. We didn't have appropriate clothing.
Aside from that, she failed to provide any type of emotional support or guidance. It went far beyond her not hugging us or telling us we were loved. She laughed at us when we cried. We were slapped when we got hurt. Our pain was her pleasure. Everyone's pain was her pleasure. We were an annoyance, burden and unwanted part of her life and she was unafraid to tell us or treat us as such.
Probably her worst offense wasn't the neglect, it was the abuse.
I've said it before, a mother would protect her children.
She stood idly by and watched my dad abuse me, drug me, sell me to other men. She bears a good deal of guilt for that as well as the ways she physically and sexually abused us.
My mom was a miserable failure in all ways as a mom. Therefore, she is no more than the woman who gave birth to me.
I never had a mom. I never had a woman in my life who loved me, protected me and cared for me.
Honestly, I missing something and someone I never had my entire life.
You might be wondering how I can miss something or someone I never had. Or, how why now at 37 years old am I in so much pain over this. Fair questions, I wonder the same things.
I have more exposure today to healthier mother/daughter relationships than I ever have been. There's a common theme I see in these relationships. Whether the daughter is 18 months old, 18 years old, 38 or 58 years old, I see that they always have their mother by their side.
When the baby falls, she runs to momma and finds comfort in her arms. When the teenager's first love ends in heartbreak, she runs to mom and finds comfort. When the 20-something has problems in her marriage, she has her mom to comfort and guide her. When the 30-something has defiant children, she can go to her mother for direction. When the 40- or 50-something has a health crisis, they run back to their mom for more comfort.
These are the things I've seen.
While those things aren't necessarily by story, I have a bunch of hurts in my life right now. Some big, some small. Maybe not literally, but I want to curl up in my mom's arms and find love and comfort. I need my mom beside me to face the ugly world, to withstand the pain I'm wading through each day. I need direction and correction that only a mother could give.
I've never really wanted those things as badly as I do right now. I know my mom wouldn't make it all away, but at least I'd know I didn't have to face any of it alone.
There's no chance of this happening. She's the source of so much of the pain. She's one of the primary reasons for the dysfunction which still exists in my life. To be near to her could quite literally destroy my entire life. That's not an understatement. I've just glazed over a portion of a portion of a portion of who she is and what she's done.
I've prayed, begged, bargained with God to take this desire away from me. I know, I've said that before too. Wanting a mom by my side is a natural desire that I can't shake, can't make go away. I need it to leave me. I need to not want this, not need this. It can't happen and I need this desire to depart from me forever.
I don't want to spend the rest of my life painfully, exhaustively wanting and grieving something I never had and never will have. I have enough hurt in my life without this.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Fear of Judgement
As the number of people reading this blog increases, I find myself writing less the past month. Well, I'm not really writing less, I'm just posting less.
I've written and re-written; posted and deleted or reverted back to drafts; edited and set aside.
Why?
It's that fear of judgement again. What if this person sees my blog post and thinks less of me? What if that person reads that my life or my outlook on life is messy and judges me?
I've found myself being less and less true to myself. My outlet, my honest evaluation of myself and my life has become a source of fear.
That's not what I want. I want honesty. I want transparency. In sharing the good and the bad, I want to be myself without fear.
My life, this season of my life, it's messy. It's ugly and nasty a lot of the time. I'm only five years removed from a life without Christ. I have even less time, if any, removed from a family with severe dysfunction. In the big scheme of things, I'm still learning and learning is hard.
Each tentacle of my life stretches out in areas of great pain or at least a bit of tenderness. There's not a lot of joy. There's not a lot of cheer. Not right now. Remember, this is not my forever but it is my right now.
I have so very few people who know the ugliness and the mess. That makes it even more difficult. The idea of wading through the mess alone only makes it harder and harder to keep it to myself.
So, I can't keep it in any more. It's going to be ugly. It's going to be messy. But I hope, hope, hope, hope that if you see my mess, you'll withhold judgement.
Sure, I could start each post with the proverbial, "I'm a sinner, so please excuse what I'm about to say." But, that's simply not me.
I hope someday that I'll be able to look back at the mess and see there was a reason for it. I hope I'll be able to look at my life someday and see complete restoration.
If this sounds like something I've written before or you've heard me say, it's because I constantly have to fight the fear of judgement and remind myself to be honest with and about myself. Such a difficult thing to do.
I've written and re-written; posted and deleted or reverted back to drafts; edited and set aside.
Why?
It's that fear of judgement again. What if this person sees my blog post and thinks less of me? What if that person reads that my life or my outlook on life is messy and judges me?
I've found myself being less and less true to myself. My outlet, my honest evaluation of myself and my life has become a source of fear.
That's not what I want. I want honesty. I want transparency. In sharing the good and the bad, I want to be myself without fear.
My life, this season of my life, it's messy. It's ugly and nasty a lot of the time. I'm only five years removed from a life without Christ. I have even less time, if any, removed from a family with severe dysfunction. In the big scheme of things, I'm still learning and learning is hard.
Each tentacle of my life stretches out in areas of great pain or at least a bit of tenderness. There's not a lot of joy. There's not a lot of cheer. Not right now. Remember, this is not my forever but it is my right now.
I have so very few people who know the ugliness and the mess. That makes it even more difficult. The idea of wading through the mess alone only makes it harder and harder to keep it to myself.
So, I can't keep it in any more. It's going to be ugly. It's going to be messy. But I hope, hope, hope, hope that if you see my mess, you'll withhold judgement.
Sure, I could start each post with the proverbial, "I'm a sinner, so please excuse what I'm about to say." But, that's simply not me.
I hope someday that I'll be able to look back at the mess and see there was a reason for it. I hope I'll be able to look at my life someday and see complete restoration.
If this sounds like something I've written before or you've heard me say, it's because I constantly have to fight the fear of judgement and remind myself to be honest with and about myself. Such a difficult thing to do.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Beautiful Wind
Today, the wind was beautiful.
I know, that's a relatively random thing for me.
I slept a few hours last night and dreamed about my dog, Kristi. Kristi has been gone for over five years and I can't remember the last time I dreamed about her. My dream was so real. We went for a walk and then curled up in bed together. All the years I lived alone, she slept right beside me and often curled up in the fetal position at my chest with my arm around her. Even though I love the dogs I have now, it was sad to wake up and know it wasn't real. That dog stayed on my mind all day.
My day didn't offer much improvement. One thing after another smacked me in the face. Nothing too terrible by itself, but collectively enough to break me down.
It wasn't just about missing a dog. It wasn't just a bad day. It's been a bad several weeks, maybe even months. I can't begin to tell you all the stuff that's happened the last several months. You might think I'm focusing just on the negative. The truth is, I've had very little positive to focus on or I would. Without going into the details, I can tell you that lately most days end with no desire for a tomorrow. That's just me being incredibly honest.
As I sat listening to a speaker at a conference today, I had one of this-room-suddenly-got-hot-and-the-walls-are-closing-in-on-me moments. So I left. I searched the building for a quiet place to be alone and recover from the overwhelm. With no place to have an alone moment, I headed outside.
I found a nice shaded spot outside. Took a deep breath. Did my best to fight back the tears. Failed miserably.
Once I caught my breath and wiped away the tears, I began to feel the wind whipping my hair around. It's all I could hear. As I watched the leaves being rolled, tossed and moved across the yard, I desperately wished the wind would whisk me away from this painful spot. Oh how I longed at that moment to be carelessly whipped away from this time and place.
Much to my surprise, the roaring wind cleared my head and restored my breath.
It only last a few minutes. I already want them back. I'm ready to sit in the wind again, longer. It was beautiful. I want, no NEED, that kind of beautiful thing in my life everyday.
I know, that's a relatively random thing for me.
My day didn't offer much improvement. One thing after another smacked me in the face. Nothing too terrible by itself, but collectively enough to break me down.
It wasn't just about missing a dog. It wasn't just a bad day. It's been a bad several weeks, maybe even months. I can't begin to tell you all the stuff that's happened the last several months. You might think I'm focusing just on the negative. The truth is, I've had very little positive to focus on or I would. Without going into the details, I can tell you that lately most days end with no desire for a tomorrow. That's just me being incredibly honest.
As I sat listening to a speaker at a conference today, I had one of this-room-suddenly-got-hot-and-the-walls-are-closing-in-on-me moments. So I left. I searched the building for a quiet place to be alone and recover from the overwhelm. With no place to have an alone moment, I headed outside.
I found a nice shaded spot outside. Took a deep breath. Did my best to fight back the tears. Failed miserably.
Once I caught my breath and wiped away the tears, I began to feel the wind whipping my hair around. It's all I could hear. As I watched the leaves being rolled, tossed and moved across the yard, I desperately wished the wind would whisk me away from this painful spot. Oh how I longed at that moment to be carelessly whipped away from this time and place.
Much to my surprise, the roaring wind cleared my head and restored my breath.
It only last a few minutes. I already want them back. I'm ready to sit in the wind again, longer. It was beautiful. I want, no NEED, that kind of beautiful thing in my life everyday.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
A Good Change
I went to sleep sometime around 1:30 and have been awake since 3:00. So much to do, so much swirling in my brain.
As I spent some time doing my early morning workout with Mr. Mixer and Mrs. Springform Pan, I worked diligently to defer my thoughts from all that was bothering me. With only 1 1/2 hours of sleep, not an easy task.
My focus became trying to find something good from the day before. Let's face it, I have been way too busy to think back beyond a day right now. The problem was that yesterday was no stellar day. Any day that draws to an end with me having a full-blown meltdown, bursting into tears and unable to speak, probably isn't going to be most memorable for the good that day had to offer.
Oddly enough, the one thing I was able to latch onto was a bit of change in our lives. I know, change typically isn't something we adjust well to and certainly takes a while to deem as "good."
Yesterday, like most Wednesday evenings, we ate dinner at church. Throughout the school year, our church offers a Wednesday evening meal before activities begin. Since I've not been in any other churches, I have no idea if this concept is common or unique. What I do know is that I love the idea. For a small fee (way cheaper than you could eat at McDonald's and with way better food), families and people of all ages can come eat without the hassle and hustle of fixing dinner before church activities.
My husband and I were fairly regular in attending the meals for the first few years after joining the church. In addition to the convenience, we had a desire to meet some of the people in our church. The meals seemed to be the perfect place to do just that.
I'm just going to say it...things didn't work quite that way for us.
For those first few years, usually one of two things happened week after week. More times than not, we sat at a table by ourselves. The other tables were usually full or we didn't receive a warm welcome when we tried to set with other people. We'd eat and head to bible study within 30 minutes of sitting down.
The other thing that happened often was that parents (who we didn't know) would bring their children to our table, leave them and then go eat with their friends. That just got to be extremely awkward. I understand that we always had a lot of extra space since we were sitting alone, but we were strangers to these people. I suppose since we were in church, people could have just assumed we were "good folk."
Needles-to-say, we finally stopped attending the meals completely. There were a few other determining factors, but this was the biggest. It wasn't really meeting any of our needs in getting to know people in our church.
For various reasons, we have been very consistent in attending meals for the past six weeks. As I thought about it this morning, I realized just how much things have changed.
In all the weeks we have been there, we've not set alone once. In fact, we usually have a full table.
But wait, there's more!
There is usually a fair mix of children AND their parents.
But wait, it gets even better!
We are having a good time! There is talking. Yes, real conversation. And, laughing too.
Once we sit down to eat, I find that the time flies by and even goes too fast. Regardless of who fills the seats around us, I constantly find myself wishing the time didn't have to end. I love spending that hour with people we know well and others we are getting to know better and even meeting people we don't really know at all.
This is a pretty big change for both of us and such a good one.
Instead of leaving the meals down and discouraged, I think we both walk out the door looking forward to next week. We both look forward to that next time we can sit down with friends and have some conversation or laughs over a good plate of food.
As I spent some time doing my early morning workout with Mr. Mixer and Mrs. Springform Pan, I worked diligently to defer my thoughts from all that was bothering me. With only 1 1/2 hours of sleep, not an easy task.
My focus became trying to find something good from the day before. Let's face it, I have been way too busy to think back beyond a day right now. The problem was that yesterday was no stellar day. Any day that draws to an end with me having a full-blown meltdown, bursting into tears and unable to speak, probably isn't going to be most memorable for the good that day had to offer.
Oddly enough, the one thing I was able to latch onto was a bit of change in our lives. I know, change typically isn't something we adjust well to and certainly takes a while to deem as "good."
Yesterday, like most Wednesday evenings, we ate dinner at church. Throughout the school year, our church offers a Wednesday evening meal before activities begin. Since I've not been in any other churches, I have no idea if this concept is common or unique. What I do know is that I love the idea. For a small fee (way cheaper than you could eat at McDonald's and with way better food), families and people of all ages can come eat without the hassle and hustle of fixing dinner before church activities.
My husband and I were fairly regular in attending the meals for the first few years after joining the church. In addition to the convenience, we had a desire to meet some of the people in our church. The meals seemed to be the perfect place to do just that.
I'm just going to say it...things didn't work quite that way for us.
For those first few years, usually one of two things happened week after week. More times than not, we sat at a table by ourselves. The other tables were usually full or we didn't receive a warm welcome when we tried to set with other people. We'd eat and head to bible study within 30 minutes of sitting down.
The other thing that happened often was that parents (who we didn't know) would bring their children to our table, leave them and then go eat with their friends. That just got to be extremely awkward. I understand that we always had a lot of extra space since we were sitting alone, but we were strangers to these people. I suppose since we were in church, people could have just assumed we were "good folk."
Needles-to-say, we finally stopped attending the meals completely. There were a few other determining factors, but this was the biggest. It wasn't really meeting any of our needs in getting to know people in our church.
For various reasons, we have been very consistent in attending meals for the past six weeks. As I thought about it this morning, I realized just how much things have changed.
In all the weeks we have been there, we've not set alone once. In fact, we usually have a full table.
But wait, there's more!
There is usually a fair mix of children AND their parents.
But wait, it gets even better!
We are having a good time! There is talking. Yes, real conversation. And, laughing too.
Once we sit down to eat, I find that the time flies by and even goes too fast. Regardless of who fills the seats around us, I constantly find myself wishing the time didn't have to end. I love spending that hour with people we know well and others we are getting to know better and even meeting people we don't really know at all.
This is a pretty big change for both of us and such a good one.
Instead of leaving the meals down and discouraged, I think we both walk out the door looking forward to next week. We both look forward to that next time we can sit down with friends and have some conversation or laughs over a good plate of food.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Reconnection
My life has gone from a bit too slow to warp speed over the past several weeks. Thankfully and sadly, it will go back to being too slow after the next week is over.
In the midst of the craziness, my husband and I decided to take a short trip.
It was just a few hours away to Branson. However, it was a deep breath and break for us.
Between my crazy schedule and him working non-stop, we really hadn't gotten much of a chance to have a real conversation since summer.
We left the computers behind. Muted the cell phones. Put the family issues aside. Really, just left the whole world behind us.
We had no schedule. No plans. We napped when we felt like it. Ate whatever and whenever we wanted.
In fact, it was cold and rainy half of our trip and just blustery cold the other half. The weather phased us none at all. Although, I LOVED the weather. We even had freezing rain for an hour late one night.
It was refreshing, relaxing and just flat out needed.
I don't think I had realized how badly we needed time to just be ourselves with each other and reconnect. Yes, I think I crawled in the car with a stranger on Friday evening as we headed out.
Not that we had been fighting or unhappy with each other, that wasn't it. We had just gotten into a rut of not communicating because our only time to do so was 10-11 pm. My husband wakes up between 3-4 am. Conversations at 10 pm are useless.
It felt so good to have real conversation with him. We got to laugh together too, something we hadn't done much of lately.
I don't think I knew how much I missed him. Good grief, I don't think I knew how much you could miss someone when you live in the same house with them.
Whew...thankfully, I returned home on Monday with the husband I adore and not the stranger I left with Friday. I really do love this man!
In the midst of the craziness, my husband and I decided to take a short trip.
It was just a few hours away to Branson. However, it was a deep breath and break for us.
Between my crazy schedule and him working non-stop, we really hadn't gotten much of a chance to have a real conversation since summer.
We left the computers behind. Muted the cell phones. Put the family issues aside. Really, just left the whole world behind us.
We had no schedule. No plans. We napped when we felt like it. Ate whatever and whenever we wanted.
In fact, it was cold and rainy half of our trip and just blustery cold the other half. The weather phased us none at all. Although, I LOVED the weather. We even had freezing rain for an hour late one night.
It was refreshing, relaxing and just flat out needed.
I don't think I had realized how badly we needed time to just be ourselves with each other and reconnect. Yes, I think I crawled in the car with a stranger on Friday evening as we headed out.
Not that we had been fighting or unhappy with each other, that wasn't it. We had just gotten into a rut of not communicating because our only time to do so was 10-11 pm. My husband wakes up between 3-4 am. Conversations at 10 pm are useless.
It felt so good to have real conversation with him. We got to laugh together too, something we hadn't done much of lately.
I don't think I knew how much I missed him. Good grief, I don't think I knew how much you could miss someone when you live in the same house with them.
Whew...thankfully, I returned home on Monday with the husband I adore and not the stranger I left with Friday. I really do love this man!
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Aging with Humor and Love
Wednesdays continue to be my favorite day of the week. It's the day I get to spend with the senior adult couple from church. They've really transitioned from a senior adult couple from church to just two aging people that I love dearly.
Even though the wife is still in a care center, I did get to see her today. She wasn't feeling well and I didn't get a chance to talk much to her. But, she's been on my mind all day.
When I was helping pack the couple to move from their home to the apartment, I got to learn a lot about them and specifically the wife.
This woman is meticulous! Her filing system was amazing. Everything had specific places. She has the organizational skills that most people only wish they had. It's no surprise that she was the same with how she looked.
The thing that's been rolling around in my head today is something she said while we were packing. She said if she doesn't feel good about the way she looks, she just doesn't feel good.
How true is that, especially for women? Bad hair day, an outfit that doesn't feel right, running out of your favorite make-up. It can all make for a bad day. What I hadn't really thought about is that you don't have to be young to feel that way. Our need to look ok, so that we feel ok stays with us. I'm not talking about obsessing over what we look like, but merely caring about ourselves enough.
When I worked in a nursing home, I never understood why some of the ladies were so crabby about not having particular accessories or lipstick. Now I know. It's what made them feel ok, normal. And when life is rocking all around you or everything is changing, I suppose it's the small things like make-up that you hang onto in hopes of maintaining a level of normal for yourself.
I don't want to forget to mention the time I spent with the husband. My plan was to walk him from visiting his wife back to his apartment. The sun was quickly sinking into the horizon before I could get him home. Since his buggy doesn't have headlights, we had to call for a ride.
It was only a few weeks ago that we were going out for walks with the buggy so he could learn how to use it better.
As I watched him drive his buggy up the ramp and into the bus, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Not in a bad way. Walking away, I wondered if that was how a parent feels the first time they put their child on the bus to head to school. It was definitely a "aww, he's growing up" moment for me.
He has learned how to run his buggy so well and has become more independent.
I waited in the driveway for the bus to pull up and felt much the same way when he came back down the ramp. It made me smile and was a little emotional to see him making progress in big ways.
I continue to be incredibly thankful for the time I get to spend with these two.
Even though the wife is still in a care center, I did get to see her today. She wasn't feeling well and I didn't get a chance to talk much to her. But, she's been on my mind all day.
When I was helping pack the couple to move from their home to the apartment, I got to learn a lot about them and specifically the wife.
This woman is meticulous! Her filing system was amazing. Everything had specific places. She has the organizational skills that most people only wish they had. It's no surprise that she was the same with how she looked.
The thing that's been rolling around in my head today is something she said while we were packing. She said if she doesn't feel good about the way she looks, she just doesn't feel good.
How true is that, especially for women? Bad hair day, an outfit that doesn't feel right, running out of your favorite make-up. It can all make for a bad day. What I hadn't really thought about is that you don't have to be young to feel that way. Our need to look ok, so that we feel ok stays with us. I'm not talking about obsessing over what we look like, but merely caring about ourselves enough.
When I worked in a nursing home, I never understood why some of the ladies were so crabby about not having particular accessories or lipstick. Now I know. It's what made them feel ok, normal. And when life is rocking all around you or everything is changing, I suppose it's the small things like make-up that you hang onto in hopes of maintaining a level of normal for yourself.
I don't want to forget to mention the time I spent with the husband. My plan was to walk him from visiting his wife back to his apartment. The sun was quickly sinking into the horizon before I could get him home. Since his buggy doesn't have headlights, we had to call for a ride.
It was only a few weeks ago that we were going out for walks with the buggy so he could learn how to use it better.
As I watched him drive his buggy up the ramp and into the bus, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Not in a bad way. Walking away, I wondered if that was how a parent feels the first time they put their child on the bus to head to school. It was definitely a "aww, he's growing up" moment for me.
He has learned how to run his buggy so well and has become more independent.
I waited in the driveway for the bus to pull up and felt much the same way when he came back down the ramp. It made me smile and was a little emotional to see him making progress in big ways.
I continue to be incredibly thankful for the time I get to spend with these two.
Monday, October 1, 2012
The 1st Proposal
I had one of those a-ha moments today that was big enough to stop everything and write it down so I never forget. It's one of those, changes-history-forever moments.
It is no secret that I have always been disappointed in the way my husband proposed to me. Really! When my friends share their romantic proposal stories, I'm always the one who starts off with, "You're not going to believe mine." and is followed by most of my friends taking a deep sigh and collectively saying, "Yea, that sucked."
Literally, our engagement began only after I gave him the "We've been dating for almost 5 years, marry me or I'll find someone who will." I know, I know...not very nice on my part. But hey, a girl has to give a gentle nudge sometimes. Me, I gave more of a shove off a cliff.
After nagging him till he couldn't stand it, a ring was purchased. After more nagging and more nagging, I got my proposal.
On the way to Christmas with my family in 1997, I got the ring box tossed at me. He followed with a very insincere, "Now you can tell everyone you're engaged."
Eight months later, we were married and still are over 14 years later.
Now, my husband has stuck by the same story for 15 years. He had every intention to propose in a romantic way, but I spoiled it by nagging him. Maybe, maybe not, nobody will ever know!
I've long since gotten over my anger and haven't used it against him. At least not for a long, long time.
Now, if I can step back a little bit further...
I met my husband in January 1994. Long, long, long story short. I dated his good friend, he dated my roommate. Most of our dates were double dates and oddly enough, because of the guys. He was always nice to me during those 4-5 months of double dates. In fact, a little nicer to me than he was to my roommate.
Toward summer, his friend and I split. My roommate had a one-night-stand, got pregnant, had an abortion and then they split. I may or may not have been devious enough back then to tell him about the turmoil with his girlfriend. You might call it devious, you might call it being caring and saving him from a life of misery. Whatever you call it, I don't regret it.
My former roommate married my ex/my husband's friend. They've been married for over 16 years and have two wonderful kids. It was obviously a move I supposed to make, therefore I can't regret it.
Didn't I tell you it was a long story? That's not even half of it, but I digress.
In July 1994, I would start dating my then boyfriend. He lived in Wichita and would return home on the weekends. We would go out on Friday night, spend half the day together Saturday and then have dinner with his family on Sunday.
He would return me to my apartment on Sunday before heading back to Wichita. Such the gentleman, he would walk me up the long flight of stairs and we would say our goodbyes at the door.
I think I had forgotten just how romantic that was. It wasn't that typical, dropping off at the end of the night. It was mid day and maybe I took it for granted.
It is funny how I've always remembered this, but got such a different perspective about it today.
It was the second weekend we were dating. He stood in my doorway. We were two young kids, driven my a new, budding love. We were having fun. We weren't ready for the weekend to be over.
As he stood in my doorway, not wanting to leave, we continued to talk. You know the small talk that comes when you are avoiding the inevitable "goodbye" and closing door.
That's when completely unexpected, he says "What would you say if I asked you to marry me right now?"
Keep in mind that I'm the girl who tucked tail and ran far, far away from any guy who got the slightest bit giddy with the "L" word was still sitting on his lips.
We had been dating 2 weeks. 2 weeks!
I said, "Yes."
He smiled, kissed me goodbye and left.
Yes friends, my husband asked me if I would marry him after dating for 2 weeks. Sure, it took him over 4 years to put a ring on my finger.
In retrospect, that was so romantic. After knowing each other 6 months and dating for 2 weeks, he was already thinking about marriage. Awww!
Now, I am probably giving the guy way too much credit here. He's never said he didn't need to propose when he gave my the ring because he'd already done it 4 years earlier.
However, I don't give him enough credit for being a romantic!
It is no secret that I have always been disappointed in the way my husband proposed to me. Really! When my friends share their romantic proposal stories, I'm always the one who starts off with, "You're not going to believe mine." and is followed by most of my friends taking a deep sigh and collectively saying, "Yea, that sucked."
Literally, our engagement began only after I gave him the "We've been dating for almost 5 years, marry me or I'll find someone who will." I know, I know...not very nice on my part. But hey, a girl has to give a gentle nudge sometimes. Me, I gave more of a shove off a cliff.
After nagging him till he couldn't stand it, a ring was purchased. After more nagging and more nagging, I got my proposal.
On the way to Christmas with my family in 1997, I got the ring box tossed at me. He followed with a very insincere, "Now you can tell everyone you're engaged."
Eight months later, we were married and still are over 14 years later.
Now, my husband has stuck by the same story for 15 years. He had every intention to propose in a romantic way, but I spoiled it by nagging him. Maybe, maybe not, nobody will ever know!
I've long since gotten over my anger and haven't used it against him. At least not for a long, long time.
Now, if I can step back a little bit further...
I met my husband in January 1994. Long, long, long story short. I dated his good friend, he dated my roommate. Most of our dates were double dates and oddly enough, because of the guys. He was always nice to me during those 4-5 months of double dates. In fact, a little nicer to me than he was to my roommate.
Toward summer, his friend and I split. My roommate had a one-night-stand, got pregnant, had an abortion and then they split. I may or may not have been devious enough back then to tell him about the turmoil with his girlfriend. You might call it devious, you might call it being caring and saving him from a life of misery. Whatever you call it, I don't regret it.
My former roommate married my ex/my husband's friend. They've been married for over 16 years and have two wonderful kids. It was obviously a move I supposed to make, therefore I can't regret it.
Didn't I tell you it was a long story? That's not even half of it, but I digress.
In July 1994, I would start dating my then boyfriend. He lived in Wichita and would return home on the weekends. We would go out on Friday night, spend half the day together Saturday and then have dinner with his family on Sunday.
He would return me to my apartment on Sunday before heading back to Wichita. Such the gentleman, he would walk me up the long flight of stairs and we would say our goodbyes at the door.
I think I had forgotten just how romantic that was. It wasn't that typical, dropping off at the end of the night. It was mid day and maybe I took it for granted.
It is funny how I've always remembered this, but got such a different perspective about it today.
It was the second weekend we were dating. He stood in my doorway. We were two young kids, driven my a new, budding love. We were having fun. We weren't ready for the weekend to be over.
As he stood in my doorway, not wanting to leave, we continued to talk. You know the small talk that comes when you are avoiding the inevitable "goodbye" and closing door.
That's when completely unexpected, he says "What would you say if I asked you to marry me right now?"
Keep in mind that I'm the girl who tucked tail and ran far, far away from any guy who got the slightest bit giddy with the "L" word was still sitting on his lips.
We had been dating 2 weeks. 2 weeks!
I said, "Yes."
He smiled, kissed me goodbye and left.
Yes friends, my husband asked me if I would marry him after dating for 2 weeks. Sure, it took him over 4 years to put a ring on my finger.
In retrospect, that was so romantic. After knowing each other 6 months and dating for 2 weeks, he was already thinking about marriage. Awww!
Now, I am probably giving the guy way too much credit here. He's never said he didn't need to propose when he gave my the ring because he'd already done it 4 years earlier.
However, I don't give him enough credit for being a romantic!
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Growing Old
Let's take a moment to talk about one of those semi-embarrassing things that happens to all of us.
Yes, that's right. Gray hair.
This morning, my husband shared with me that he was getting gray hair. His disappointment permeated the room look a foul odor. He is naturally bald on top. Sorry, I mean naturally dirty blond. A few gray hairs are going to be noticeable to NOBODY in the world, except him.
Sure, he probably thought that having a large bald spot on top of his head since he was in his 20 would somehow preclude him from ever turning gray. I suppose we can't all be so lucky as to have only one hair debacle in our life time.
I'm so sorry. I remember how depressing it was to find my first gray hairs. That was my loving, caring wife response. Well...that would have been my response if I'd have dug into the sensitive, sympathetic pocket this morning.
Instead, I was overcome with a sense of giddiness and asked for proof!
As I stood looking at his beautiful, shiny gray hair, I smiled and giggled. Even in bad lighting, I could find only 2. Two gray hairs that blended so well into blond that I could barely see them. Oh my, where was my empathy?
My husband is 47. That's only 3 years shy of 50. He's nearly 50 and finding his first gray hair. He sees having to wear glasses and finding gray hair means he is inching ever closer to the grave. Hasn't he heard that 50 is the new 20? Oops, maybe that's what I'm supposed to be telling him instead of laughing at his gray hair.
I am 10 years younger than my husband. I was in my 20's when I found my first gray hair. Oh that day sits in my memory as one of those icky milestones you wished hadn't come so soon. I was at a conference and was standing in front of a mirror. There was a perfect combination of natural light and florescent light. As I caught a sparkle in my hair, I brushed off the idea it was anything more than healthy, shiny hair.
During the next restroom break, I stood in front of mirror with dread. The terrible florescent lighting in those restrooms made the gray stand out like it was neon. I quickly pulled two hairs, took a deep breath and returned to my conference with the two hairs in my hand.
I'm not really sure what I was thinking keeping them. Irrationally, I probably thought that if I held onto them, they would never find their way back and somehow reattach.
I was familiar with the old wives tale about pulling out gray would cause two to grow back in their place. So a month later, I took a deep breath and took a long look. Nope, it was just a myth. Only the two I had previously pulled were there. Whew!
Something has obviously gone terribly wrong over the past 10 years. They have multiplied. Never two out of the same place, but randomly all over my head.
As my husband pointed out this morning, I color mine. That's right! The old wives tale about red heads having wiry, nasty gray hair is absolutely 100% true. It also doesn't take color very well, which usually leads taking extreme measures when I get a hint of insecurity about it.
That's right, I will eventually break down and get some professional done blond highlights even though I hate them. I have to. My only other option is pulling them.
Oh my, pulling them is a daunting process. Even though I grab the tweezers and stand at the mirror with what has to be my own version of super hero music playing in my head, I never get them all. I don't even get a portion of them. I usually only get the wiry, crazy ones right in front.
Thankfully, my naturally curly hair hides them well for now. However, I have been working on a mental strategy to deal with them. As I shared with my husband this morning, I try not to look at my gray hair as a sign of aging. In fact, I am trying to look at them as a well-deserved sign of perfection.
Once I am completely gray, there will be nothing left to achieve (in the hair world, that is). Each gray hair puts me that much closer to achieving perfection. Hey, I didn't say it was a good strategy! But evidently, you think crazy things like that the younger you are when you find your first gray hair.
If genetics are at play for my husband, he probably doesn't have to worry about going completely gray. Neither of his parents are completely gray at all. His mom has two gray spots on the back of her head. His dad is just now salt-n-pepper gray in his mid 70s.
I think the best part of all of this is that even though I'm 10 years younger than my husband....I'm growing old with him. Gray or not, we're growing old together. That just makes me smile.
Yes, that's right. Gray hair.
This morning, my husband shared with me that he was getting gray hair. His disappointment permeated the room look a foul odor. He is naturally bald on top. Sorry, I mean naturally dirty blond. A few gray hairs are going to be noticeable to NOBODY in the world, except him.
Sure, he probably thought that having a large bald spot on top of his head since he was in his 20 would somehow preclude him from ever turning gray. I suppose we can't all be so lucky as to have only one hair debacle in our life time.
I'm so sorry. I remember how depressing it was to find my first gray hairs. That was my loving, caring wife response. Well...that would have been my response if I'd have dug into the sensitive, sympathetic pocket this morning.
Instead, I was overcome with a sense of giddiness and asked for proof!
As I stood looking at his beautiful, shiny gray hair, I smiled and giggled. Even in bad lighting, I could find only 2. Two gray hairs that blended so well into blond that I could barely see them. Oh my, where was my empathy?
My husband is 47. That's only 3 years shy of 50. He's nearly 50 and finding his first gray hair. He sees having to wear glasses and finding gray hair means he is inching ever closer to the grave. Hasn't he heard that 50 is the new 20? Oops, maybe that's what I'm supposed to be telling him instead of laughing at his gray hair.
I am 10 years younger than my husband. I was in my 20's when I found my first gray hair. Oh that day sits in my memory as one of those icky milestones you wished hadn't come so soon. I was at a conference and was standing in front of a mirror. There was a perfect combination of natural light and florescent light. As I caught a sparkle in my hair, I brushed off the idea it was anything more than healthy, shiny hair.
During the next restroom break, I stood in front of mirror with dread. The terrible florescent lighting in those restrooms made the gray stand out like it was neon. I quickly pulled two hairs, took a deep breath and returned to my conference with the two hairs in my hand.
I'm not really sure what I was thinking keeping them. Irrationally, I probably thought that if I held onto them, they would never find their way back and somehow reattach.
I was familiar with the old wives tale about pulling out gray would cause two to grow back in their place. So a month later, I took a deep breath and took a long look. Nope, it was just a myth. Only the two I had previously pulled were there. Whew!
Something has obviously gone terribly wrong over the past 10 years. They have multiplied. Never two out of the same place, but randomly all over my head.
As my husband pointed out this morning, I color mine. That's right! The old wives tale about red heads having wiry, nasty gray hair is absolutely 100% true. It also doesn't take color very well, which usually leads taking extreme measures when I get a hint of insecurity about it.
That's right, I will eventually break down and get some professional done blond highlights even though I hate them. I have to. My only other option is pulling them.
Oh my, pulling them is a daunting process. Even though I grab the tweezers and stand at the mirror with what has to be my own version of super hero music playing in my head, I never get them all. I don't even get a portion of them. I usually only get the wiry, crazy ones right in front.
Thankfully, my naturally curly hair hides them well for now. However, I have been working on a mental strategy to deal with them. As I shared with my husband this morning, I try not to look at my gray hair as a sign of aging. In fact, I am trying to look at them as a well-deserved sign of perfection.
Once I am completely gray, there will be nothing left to achieve (in the hair world, that is). Each gray hair puts me that much closer to achieving perfection. Hey, I didn't say it was a good strategy! But evidently, you think crazy things like that the younger you are when you find your first gray hair.
If genetics are at play for my husband, he probably doesn't have to worry about going completely gray. Neither of his parents are completely gray at all. His mom has two gray spots on the back of her head. His dad is just now salt-n-pepper gray in his mid 70s.
I think the best part of all of this is that even though I'm 10 years younger than my husband....I'm growing old with him. Gray or not, we're growing old together. That just makes me smile.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Sing like never before...
As I walked in the door tonight, I had a snip it of a song playing over and over in my head.
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
I've made no secret in my blog that I've struggled greatly with faith and people this summer. It's been a struggle so great that I've felt as though God has long left me and forgotten about me. I continue to struggle with this. For so many reasons, I've truly been in a crisis of faith and disbelief.
For that reason, I've not listened to Christian music in months. I couldn't. For anyone who doesn't know, music is a huge part of my life. I love singing. I love listening. I love hearing the words. Music is like a second language for me that often says what I can't and speaks to me in ways nobody does.
I've enjoyed listening to Oldies, but haven't even done that much lately. When I've said it's been a dry summer, I mean it. Life without music for me is empty.
It's been months since I've had a song pop in my head and even longer since that song has been a Christian song. I knew this snip was from a Christian song/artist, but no clue what/who.
The past few months have been tough and good days have been scarce.
I stood over the sink tonight, bathing the dog and thinking through my day.
A few things happened today, which have impacted me deeply.
I shared with a friend last night that I have a difficult time moving past hurts that happen in church. I've had many. One of the reasons I feel it is so difficult to move past is because of all of the hurts I've experienced, I've never had any of them lead to restoration of the relationship.
Today I had someone take steps to restore a relationship with me. I won't and don't need to give you any details for you to understand how huge that was for me. I really had to process my thoughts and feelings about this. Forgiveness was simple, effortless. It's never been so easy for me to forgive a hurt. It was a completely new experience for me.
I had no expectation that this relationship would be restored. However, I can honestly say that I'm happy it can be. Believe me, it really goes a long way in the effort to renew my faith in people, kindness and love amongst Christians.
There has been another person who has been unknowingly helping settle my stirring heart. I want to believe that at the core of everyone is a good person, especially Christians. I haven't believed that for a while. I've had a tough time believing people can be loving, caring, genuine, gracious or have any desire to be like Christ.
Sometimes I look to the older members of the church to be these examples to me, accepting that nobody is perfect. Age does not always equate to maturity, especially in faith.
A younger (younger than me) lady in the church has shown me all of those things. While I don't know her well, my experiences with her have been learning and growing experiences for me. Through crazy times, tough circumstances and stressful situations, the young woman has been a picture of the healthy way to deal with adversity and hurt feelings.
She embodies what I have been looking for, needed to see. What is more amazing is that she has no clue her part in this beginning stage of healing.
Another obscure thing happened today, something completely unexpected. During a meeting completely irrelevant to anything already mentioned, the pastor made a comment which stuck with me. As he discussed serving people and the reason for service, he put something in perspective for me.
I won't quote him verbatim, but he said he doesn't prepare sermons for himself. His study, his effort, his prep and ultimately the sermon itself is done for the people of the church. He does it all for us, the body of the church. He does it for me, being a member of the body.
Let me say that again...my pastor studies, spends many hours preparing and delivers a sermon for me.
Having that perspective does so much to renew my desire to want to understand and hear sermons. If he's going to put forth effort me, I believe I owe him the same in return.
Before I began scrubbing the dog and getting lost in my thoughts about the day, I had turned on the ipod. I'm not even sure what had been playing, I hadn't heard any of it. A momentary break in my thoughts opened my head to hear the words playing.
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
It was the song. It was the first time I'd heard the words of a Christian song in months. I mean heard them, really deep down in my soul heard them.
I couldn't help myself. I stood over my soapy dog and wept.
Of course I am filled with fear that everything I mentioned above is a fluke and tomorrow will bring more challenges and again kick me.
The fight isn't over. I'm still in crisis. Today's showers weren't enough to end the drought. But maybe, just maybe, it's at least the beginning.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to reconnect with my old friend...music.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
They are to teach...
Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled. Titus 2:3-5
Surprised to see scripture woven into this blog right now? Me too!
But I'm having a difficult time with an aspect of the church that seems to knock me down over and over again.
*Let me just state that I do not believe what I am about to say is unique to me or my church. I do however, believe it is unique to Christian women as it is them who have chosen to be followers of Christ and professed to believe the written word of God. I do think it's important to point out that this isn't at all directed at a particular individual(s) or written in regard to any particular incident(s).
My social contact within my church has grown exponentially over the past year. But sadly, so has my disappointment and hurt.
I don't feel it's wise or even necessary to go into the many examples of why. What I can and should say is that much of it resonates write in the middle of the above scripture. Very specifically:
"They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women"
Before going any further, let me clearly state that there is a small group of women in our church who have been putting a concerted effort into changing this. I do believe others see the problem and are doing what they can to make a difference moving forward.
But what makes me sad...no, breaks my heart...are the many women who are very mature in age and faith who aren't even making an effort to do this.
It's right there. Very clear. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women...
There's two facets of this grind at my core and contribute to my confusion about Christians, God and faith.
The first is this idea that nobody below the age of 40, 50, 60, 70, etc. have gifts that would make them of any value in particular ministries within the church. There is an obvious mindset that if something is going to be done or done right, it needs to be done by the people "who have always done it."
I may not know much about the bible, but my friend, I know that's an example of pride. Nasty, ugly, sinful pride.
Not only is it sin, but it just plain hurtful. I can speak from experience. It is discouraging. It hurts. It closes you off to church. It turns you away from church. It makes you believe you really don't belong or that you are not good enough. I believe it could even be a contributing factor in lack of participation by 20-40 year-old women in church.
The other part of this is the guts of the training. Inevitably, I see what happens when any younger woman gets an opportunity to serve with these older women who aren't being good examples of Titus 2.
Also speaking from experience, I can tell you what happens. The young woman is given very little or no guidance. They do their best, but make mistakes. They are not given grace. They aren't given an opportunity or second chance to make changes or do a better job. However, without guidance, would they ever do a better job? No training, no guidance, nobody willing to teach them through a difficult time. They essentially have been given nothing but an assured opportunity to fail.
When the younger woman fails, then the cycle begins. Failure proves that first facet must be true in the mind of the prideful person. It cycles back to that mindset that nobody but them can do anything.
If you look at any committee, ministry, group within the church, do you see diversity? Do you see examples of teaching and training? If you don't, is that a totally healthy committee, ministry, group?
I know this sort of thing happens in every church. But, isn't that a cop out? If we excuse it by saying, "oh it happens everywhere," aren't we just perpetuating the problem?
I'm not offering you these questions to in any way suggest that I don't have sin in my life.
What I am offering is a perspective from someone who's been hurt by this. A perspective from someone who believes this sort of thing is pushing me away from church. A perspective from someone who desperately wants to learn from those around me and not become one of the examples I've experienced.
Surprised to see scripture woven into this blog right now? Me too!
But I'm having a difficult time with an aspect of the church that seems to knock me down over and over again.
*Let me just state that I do not believe what I am about to say is unique to me or my church. I do however, believe it is unique to Christian women as it is them who have chosen to be followers of Christ and professed to believe the written word of God. I do think it's important to point out that this isn't at all directed at a particular individual(s) or written in regard to any particular incident(s).
My social contact within my church has grown exponentially over the past year. But sadly, so has my disappointment and hurt.
I don't feel it's wise or even necessary to go into the many examples of why. What I can and should say is that much of it resonates write in the middle of the above scripture. Very specifically:
"They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women"
Before going any further, let me clearly state that there is a small group of women in our church who have been putting a concerted effort into changing this. I do believe others see the problem and are doing what they can to make a difference moving forward.
But what makes me sad...no, breaks my heart...are the many women who are very mature in age and faith who aren't even making an effort to do this.
It's right there. Very clear. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women...
There's two facets of this grind at my core and contribute to my confusion about Christians, God and faith.
The first is this idea that nobody below the age of 40, 50, 60, 70, etc. have gifts that would make them of any value in particular ministries within the church. There is an obvious mindset that if something is going to be done or done right, it needs to be done by the people "who have always done it."
I may not know much about the bible, but my friend, I know that's an example of pride. Nasty, ugly, sinful pride.
Not only is it sin, but it just plain hurtful. I can speak from experience. It is discouraging. It hurts. It closes you off to church. It turns you away from church. It makes you believe you really don't belong or that you are not good enough. I believe it could even be a contributing factor in lack of participation by 20-40 year-old women in church.
The other part of this is the guts of the training. Inevitably, I see what happens when any younger woman gets an opportunity to serve with these older women who aren't being good examples of Titus 2.
Also speaking from experience, I can tell you what happens. The young woman is given very little or no guidance. They do their best, but make mistakes. They are not given grace. They aren't given an opportunity or second chance to make changes or do a better job. However, without guidance, would they ever do a better job? No training, no guidance, nobody willing to teach them through a difficult time. They essentially have been given nothing but an assured opportunity to fail.
When the younger woman fails, then the cycle begins. Failure proves that first facet must be true in the mind of the prideful person. It cycles back to that mindset that nobody but them can do anything.
If you look at any committee, ministry, group within the church, do you see diversity? Do you see examples of teaching and training? If you don't, is that a totally healthy committee, ministry, group?
I know this sort of thing happens in every church. But, isn't that a cop out? If we excuse it by saying, "oh it happens everywhere," aren't we just perpetuating the problem?
I'm not offering you these questions to in any way suggest that I don't have sin in my life.
What I am offering is a perspective from someone who's been hurt by this. A perspective from someone who believes this sort of thing is pushing me away from church. A perspective from someone who desperately wants to learn from those around me and not become one of the examples I've experienced.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Aging with Humor and Love
I decided I'd stop numbering these and just call it a series. I think I could write repeatedly about this and still not cover it all.
Today, I had the absolute privilege of walking the husband of this senior couple over to visit his wife who has finally gotten out of the hospital and is spending a little time in rehab before going back home.
I say privilege because it was absolutely an honor to do it.
He was excited and waiting with his buggy parked in the middle of the living room when I walked in the apartment. In jeans, suspenders, clean shirt, shades and a swagger, he got in the buggy and away we went.
As we headed down the road, he was incredibly confident in his little buggy and had a bit of a puffed chest. He was headed to see his bride and his mission was clearly written in his body language.
It reminded me of a time when my husband worked in another state for nine months. Regardless of what obstacle popped up, he stayed determined to get home to me.
We talked and walked. He cried with excitement and sadness.
As we headed down the hall of the care center, a staff member let us know the wife was in the therapy room.
I don't think I've ever seen two people lock eyes so fast before. Not only that, but the light, the energy, the joy in that room seemed to get 10 times brighter.
The entire trip could only be compared to a bride walking down the isle, then standing face-to-face with her husband to be.
I always thought love was something that dissipated. I thought young love was the strongest love you'd ever have in life. I have honestly waited for my husband to eventually not love me any more or at least not as much.
I'm learning that it doesn't have to be that way. In fact, love can grow and grow so far beyond that young love. I don't want to wait around for my husband to stop loving me, I want to grow deeper in love with him each day.
I hope when we are old and gray, that we have a love that lights up a room. I hope from our wheelchairs, people will see in us a love that never faded away.
Today, I had the absolute privilege of walking the husband of this senior couple over to visit his wife who has finally gotten out of the hospital and is spending a little time in rehab before going back home.
I say privilege because it was absolutely an honor to do it.
He was excited and waiting with his buggy parked in the middle of the living room when I walked in the apartment. In jeans, suspenders, clean shirt, shades and a swagger, he got in the buggy and away we went.
As we headed down the road, he was incredibly confident in his little buggy and had a bit of a puffed chest. He was headed to see his bride and his mission was clearly written in his body language.
It reminded me of a time when my husband worked in another state for nine months. Regardless of what obstacle popped up, he stayed determined to get home to me.
We talked and walked. He cried with excitement and sadness.
As we headed down the hall of the care center, a staff member let us know the wife was in the therapy room.
I don't think I've ever seen two people lock eyes so fast before. Not only that, but the light, the energy, the joy in that room seemed to get 10 times brighter.
The entire trip could only be compared to a bride walking down the isle, then standing face-to-face with her husband to be.
I always thought love was something that dissipated. I thought young love was the strongest love you'd ever have in life. I have honestly waited for my husband to eventually not love me any more or at least not as much.
I'm learning that it doesn't have to be that way. In fact, love can grow and grow so far beyond that young love. I don't want to wait around for my husband to stop loving me, I want to grow deeper in love with him each day.
I hope when we are old and gray, that we have a love that lights up a room. I hope from our wheelchairs, people will see in us a love that never faded away.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Aging with Humor and Love, Part 4
So after my really crappy, crappy day, I ended it by spending a couple hours with one half of my favorite senior couple. As I said to him, he was the highlight of my day and I had been looking forward to it.
I must say that while I am always completely happy to spend time with the husband, I'm missing the wife quite a bit. She's still not quite well enough to be at home. I'm seriously missing her sweet little voice and gentle spirit. I can't wait to see her again.
We got to take another stroll with the motorized scooter or as we call it the "buggy." No spin outs tonight and we went even further. It's so exciting to see him getting more comfortable. That buggy has potential to be his lifeline to everything outside his home. That's exciting!!!
After our walk, we carried on a conversation while he ate dinner and I did some cleaning around the apartment.
He stopped me while I was vacuuming to tell me a joke.
A 75 year-old man was stopped for going 80 mph in a 55 mph. When the cop asked him why he was going so fast, he said, "I have to hurry before I forget where I was going."
Do you know how long it's been since someone told me a joke? I'd forgotten what it was like to laugh at something so silly. I needed that!
I finally sat down and we swapped some war stories about working in schools and about dogs. It was great just to have simple conversation. No stress. No complication. Just simple chatting. Oh, how my little heart needed that.
As the evening came to a close, the wife called on the telephone. What he said to her melted my heart. After he told her what he had done this evening, he said, "You can call any time. You're always on my mind."
My heart melted and it kicked me in the butt at the same time.
I love my husband so very much, but I don't always act like I'm in love with him. I don't remember the last time I was so thankful he took time to call me. I want to. I want him to always know I love him.
It reminded me that something as simple as being thankful for a phone call are the little ways I can show my husband I love him.
The truth is that I do think about my husband while he's away at work, but I never tell him that. I am incredibly thankful that he works so hard to support us while I am unable to work, but I fail to tell him.
As always, I'm so thankful for the things I take away from this couple.
I must say that while I am always completely happy to spend time with the husband, I'm missing the wife quite a bit. She's still not quite well enough to be at home. I'm seriously missing her sweet little voice and gentle spirit. I can't wait to see her again.
We got to take another stroll with the motorized scooter or as we call it the "buggy." No spin outs tonight and we went even further. It's so exciting to see him getting more comfortable. That buggy has potential to be his lifeline to everything outside his home. That's exciting!!!
After our walk, we carried on a conversation while he ate dinner and I did some cleaning around the apartment.
He stopped me while I was vacuuming to tell me a joke.
A 75 year-old man was stopped for going 80 mph in a 55 mph. When the cop asked him why he was going so fast, he said, "I have to hurry before I forget where I was going."
Do you know how long it's been since someone told me a joke? I'd forgotten what it was like to laugh at something so silly. I needed that!
I finally sat down and we swapped some war stories about working in schools and about dogs. It was great just to have simple conversation. No stress. No complication. Just simple chatting. Oh, how my little heart needed that.
As the evening came to a close, the wife called on the telephone. What he said to her melted my heart. After he told her what he had done this evening, he said, "You can call any time. You're always on my mind."
My heart melted and it kicked me in the butt at the same time.
I love my husband so very much, but I don't always act like I'm in love with him. I don't remember the last time I was so thankful he took time to call me. I want to. I want him to always know I love him.
It reminded me that something as simple as being thankful for a phone call are the little ways I can show my husband I love him.
The truth is that I do think about my husband while he's away at work, but I never tell him that. I am incredibly thankful that he works so hard to support us while I am unable to work, but I fail to tell him.
As always, I'm so thankful for the things I take away from this couple.
There's a Girl in there Somewhere
Yep, that's right. Contrary to popular belief, under this hard shell is a tenderhearted girl.
It's not uncommon for me to cry over personal loss or when I'm angry. In fact, that's about the only time I do cry.
What's rare is for me to cry over having my feelings hurt. I usually have quite a controlled way of dealing with people and statements that hurt my feelings. I do it only to protect that girl inside of me.
Not today. I'm sitting here with tears being shed over my cookies and cream mint Oreo blast bucket of ice cream. This behavior isn't normal for me and has nothing to do with hormones either.
It's because today just isn't one of those days when I can protect that tenderhearted girl inside of me. I don't the energy. Believe me, I want to, but I just can't. The shell is cracked and I'm too tired to hold it together.
It's just going to be a day when I cry over terrible things people say and being let down.
I don't understand why people are so mean. I'm not talking about the obvious kind of mean. You know like the mean kid on the playground that pushes everybody around or calls everybody names. I'm talking about the kind of mean where hurtful things are said when you aren't around, but they always get back to you.
I also don't understand why it is so difficult for people to acknowledge an honest effort, even if it's a failure. I am an all or nothing kind of person. When I do something, I give it my everything. It's so discouraging when people would rather complain than acknowledge the effort.
When I was younger, I was always told I was doing something wrong and beaten for it. There was never an explanation of what I had done wrong and certainly no direction on how I could improve. Maybe that's why I learned to protect the girl.
Although there isn't anybody who physically beats me for my mistakes, I do feel beaten down emotionally. People are so quick to point out my mistakes and usually to everybody but me. People (and I say people as a generalization, there's more than one today), much older, wiser and mature than I, will complain about every effort I make to complete a task.
But, nobody has ever approached me directly with a complaint or about something I've done wrong and offered to teach me the right way.
Unfortunately, I don't even have enough ice cream left to go into being let down with you. All I can say is that my dad might have been right when he told me, "There ain't nobody you can depend on but yourself." He used it in a warped way, but it's still applicable.
Since the ice cream is gone and today doesn't seem to be turning around, I think I'll take the tenderhearted girl and hide her under the covers so I can salvage what's left of the day.
It's not uncommon for me to cry over personal loss or when I'm angry. In fact, that's about the only time I do cry.
What's rare is for me to cry over having my feelings hurt. I usually have quite a controlled way of dealing with people and statements that hurt my feelings. I do it only to protect that girl inside of me.
Not today. I'm sitting here with tears being shed over my cookies and cream mint Oreo blast bucket of ice cream. This behavior isn't normal for me and has nothing to do with hormones either.
It's because today just isn't one of those days when I can protect that tenderhearted girl inside of me. I don't the energy. Believe me, I want to, but I just can't. The shell is cracked and I'm too tired to hold it together.
It's just going to be a day when I cry over terrible things people say and being let down.
I don't understand why people are so mean. I'm not talking about the obvious kind of mean. You know like the mean kid on the playground that pushes everybody around or calls everybody names. I'm talking about the kind of mean where hurtful things are said when you aren't around, but they always get back to you.
I also don't understand why it is so difficult for people to acknowledge an honest effort, even if it's a failure. I am an all or nothing kind of person. When I do something, I give it my everything. It's so discouraging when people would rather complain than acknowledge the effort.
When I was younger, I was always told I was doing something wrong and beaten for it. There was never an explanation of what I had done wrong and certainly no direction on how I could improve. Maybe that's why I learned to protect the girl.
Although there isn't anybody who physically beats me for my mistakes, I do feel beaten down emotionally. People are so quick to point out my mistakes and usually to everybody but me. People (and I say people as a generalization, there's more than one today), much older, wiser and mature than I, will complain about every effort I make to complete a task.
But, nobody has ever approached me directly with a complaint or about something I've done wrong and offered to teach me the right way.
Unfortunately, I don't even have enough ice cream left to go into being let down with you. All I can say is that my dad might have been right when he told me, "There ain't nobody you can depend on but yourself." He used it in a warped way, but it's still applicable.
Since the ice cream is gone and today doesn't seem to be turning around, I think I'll take the tenderhearted girl and hide her under the covers so I can salvage what's left of the day.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Books, Books, Books, Blahhhh
As I sat this evening decompressing from today, I felt it coming on. Tears. My day wasn't particularly difficult. It was relatively stress free. I felt the first one trickle down my cheek as I thought through the possible connection between my heart and the tears.
It was a fairly innocuous trip to the Christian bookstore. Although it seems like ages ago, I used to enjoy going to Christian bookstores. It was one of the few stores where I could mill around and walk down every isle. I'd enjoy picking up cards for friends and searching through every last clearance item. A former friend and I used to spend hours upon hours in a weekend at various Christian bookstores.
Today, I walked through the store sticking tight to my friend's side. I felt out of place, lost, tortured. I couldn't muster up any desire to be in the store. My heart was broken, tortured over the war that's raging inside of me over what I believe and what I can't believe.
While I sat crying my sad tears over not finding any joy inside someplace I used to love, I considered my part in this battle.
Am I open-minded enough to hear someone out if they care about me enough to take on my questions? Am I willing to consider what others believe, know to be true if they are willing to share? If I am given something solid to hold onto, will I?
To the best of my ability, I think so.
I used to be so hesitant to ask anyone in my church a question and maybe I still am. For so long, it seemed like for every question I had, there was someone there to toss a book at me. The general population of the church (at least those I had contact with) seemed far more comfortable tossing a book at a question than actually talking through one. I'm not complaining, just stating a fact. It wasn't that I had one or two people do it, I had MANY.
Sometimes, I would try to read whatever book was given me to find the answer to whatever the question. Honestly, they were useless. I had no background in church, the books were far over my head. Handing someone who had never been churched a book to answer a question was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Impossible!
I got so frustrated that I finally just started telling everyone that I don't read. Which, if you read one of the previous posts, I don't read much because of my reading comprehension problem. However, if I want to read something, I will. If I have the desire, I will read a book. I will read and reread each paragraph if I know there is something in the book I want. Out of all of the books people threw at me, I read none.
Now, I want a book. I'd love for someone to give me a book. Of course the book I need, probably doesn't exist. I'm pretty sure that book is aptly named "Everything Monica Needs to Know About God That Will Make Her Stop Questioning Him and the Bible." Since I know that ones never been put in print, there has to be another book.
There is no way that I am the only person who's ever questioned the validity of the bible and the existence of God. There has to be a book written for people struggling through this very thing. Where are all of those people who wanted to throw books at me?
Before the thought goes through your mind, I know the bible has every answer to every question. TOO BIG, TOO OVERWHELMING!
Of course, outside of the few people who consistently read this blog, there really isn't anyone who knows that I'm in the middle of my own little faith crisis. So, there really isn't anybody to throw a book at me.
Hmmm, maybe that's why I'm so sad. It's the whole no body's there to toss me the life preserver.
It was a fairly innocuous trip to the Christian bookstore. Although it seems like ages ago, I used to enjoy going to Christian bookstores. It was one of the few stores where I could mill around and walk down every isle. I'd enjoy picking up cards for friends and searching through every last clearance item. A former friend and I used to spend hours upon hours in a weekend at various Christian bookstores.
Today, I walked through the store sticking tight to my friend's side. I felt out of place, lost, tortured. I couldn't muster up any desire to be in the store. My heart was broken, tortured over the war that's raging inside of me over what I believe and what I can't believe.
While I sat crying my sad tears over not finding any joy inside someplace I used to love, I considered my part in this battle.
Am I open-minded enough to hear someone out if they care about me enough to take on my questions? Am I willing to consider what others believe, know to be true if they are willing to share? If I am given something solid to hold onto, will I?
To the best of my ability, I think so.
I used to be so hesitant to ask anyone in my church a question and maybe I still am. For so long, it seemed like for every question I had, there was someone there to toss a book at me. The general population of the church (at least those I had contact with) seemed far more comfortable tossing a book at a question than actually talking through one. I'm not complaining, just stating a fact. It wasn't that I had one or two people do it, I had MANY.
Sometimes, I would try to read whatever book was given me to find the answer to whatever the question. Honestly, they were useless. I had no background in church, the books were far over my head. Handing someone who had never been churched a book to answer a question was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Impossible!
I got so frustrated that I finally just started telling everyone that I don't read. Which, if you read one of the previous posts, I don't read much because of my reading comprehension problem. However, if I want to read something, I will. If I have the desire, I will read a book. I will read and reread each paragraph if I know there is something in the book I want. Out of all of the books people threw at me, I read none.
Now, I want a book. I'd love for someone to give me a book. Of course the book I need, probably doesn't exist. I'm pretty sure that book is aptly named "Everything Monica Needs to Know About God That Will Make Her Stop Questioning Him and the Bible." Since I know that ones never been put in print, there has to be another book.
There is no way that I am the only person who's ever questioned the validity of the bible and the existence of God. There has to be a book written for people struggling through this very thing. Where are all of those people who wanted to throw books at me?
Before the thought goes through your mind, I know the bible has every answer to every question. TOO BIG, TOO OVERWHELMING!
Of course, outside of the few people who consistently read this blog, there really isn't anyone who knows that I'm in the middle of my own little faith crisis. So, there really isn't anybody to throw a book at me.
Hmmm, maybe that's why I'm so sad. It's the whole no body's there to toss me the life preserver.
Monday, September 17, 2012
I Can't Answer
I must say that there is a question I have gotten asked often over the past 45 days that makes me cringe. It ignites anger, love, frustration, fear and hurt. Yet, I understand the people asking do so because they care.
How are your niece and nephew doing?
After an awkward pause, I sheepishly share that I don't know because I haven't had contact with them.
I'm truly touched that my niece and nephew are remembered and thought of by the people around me. I loved sharing them, even if for a short time, with the people around me. I loved introducing them to friends. More importantly, I love my niece and nephew touched some lives in some memorable ways.
Beyond one facebook post with my niece about when school started, I've had no other contact with her. I've had no contact with my nephew.
The last day I spent with my nephew, he was angry with me. There was no reconciliation. He was angry and wanted away from me. Sadly, that is how our time ended almost five years ago when I had them at Thanksgiving.
The last day I spent with my niece, she made the decision to be a Christian. It was an emotional day filled with amazing one-on-one time with her. She was fearful and happy. The time I spent with her this trip was unparalleled to any time I'd ever spent with her.
I've tried. I have tried so hard. I've emailed, texted, facebooked. I have lost sleep at night. I've worried myself sick, literally physically ill.
I don't know how they are.
I know they have started school and it's not going well. Through an assortment of facebook posts by random people who know them, I know that they are both dealing with bullies.
The bullies, the lack of contact, it all upsets me. I can't do anything about it.
At the beginning and end of the week I had them, I got to spend about 5 hours with my little brother. I had no expectation going into that time that there would be any contact with him. I expected nothing and got a lot. My heart, for a fleeting moment, was happy. I didn't have any expectations that I would be able to rekindle a relationship with him at the end of that week, but I did have hope. That hope faded about as quickly as it was developed.
I waiver back and forth about whether I should have ever made the initial offer for them to come stay with us. It's painful. There were times while they were here that it was painful. Honestly, I have the same giant void in me I felt almost five years ago when they left. That was followed by almost five years of pain, tears and frustration. I'm not sure adding dashed hope to that list made it all worth it.
The holidays are inching closer and the void definitely feels bigger this year than in the past. I don't know how to describe it other than it's like getting something you want, having it briefly, then having it taken from you....Then repeat.
How are your niece and nephew doing?
After an awkward pause, I sheepishly share that I don't know because I haven't had contact with them.
I'm truly touched that my niece and nephew are remembered and thought of by the people around me. I loved sharing them, even if for a short time, with the people around me. I loved introducing them to friends. More importantly, I love my niece and nephew touched some lives in some memorable ways.
Beyond one facebook post with my niece about when school started, I've had no other contact with her. I've had no contact with my nephew.
The last day I spent with my nephew, he was angry with me. There was no reconciliation. He was angry and wanted away from me. Sadly, that is how our time ended almost five years ago when I had them at Thanksgiving.
The last day I spent with my niece, she made the decision to be a Christian. It was an emotional day filled with amazing one-on-one time with her. She was fearful and happy. The time I spent with her this trip was unparalleled to any time I'd ever spent with her.
I've tried. I have tried so hard. I've emailed, texted, facebooked. I have lost sleep at night. I've worried myself sick, literally physically ill.
I don't know how they are.
I know they have started school and it's not going well. Through an assortment of facebook posts by random people who know them, I know that they are both dealing with bullies.
The bullies, the lack of contact, it all upsets me. I can't do anything about it.
At the beginning and end of the week I had them, I got to spend about 5 hours with my little brother. I had no expectation going into that time that there would be any contact with him. I expected nothing and got a lot. My heart, for a fleeting moment, was happy. I didn't have any expectations that I would be able to rekindle a relationship with him at the end of that week, but I did have hope. That hope faded about as quickly as it was developed.
I waiver back and forth about whether I should have ever made the initial offer for them to come stay with us. It's painful. There were times while they were here that it was painful. Honestly, I have the same giant void in me I felt almost five years ago when they left. That was followed by almost five years of pain, tears and frustration. I'm not sure adding dashed hope to that list made it all worth it.
The holidays are inching closer and the void definitely feels bigger this year than in the past. I don't know how to describe it other than it's like getting something you want, having it briefly, then having it taken from you....Then repeat.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Anger Confusion
When I try to listen to a sermon, people discussing the bible or just about anything to do with God, what I hear can only be described as being similar to Charlie Brown's teacher. You know, that whah whah whaaahh whah.
That happened tonight as the small group I meet with was discussing today's church sermon. Honestly, I'm just at a point in my life that I don't want to hear and do everything I can to not hear it. I've thought at times that it was just a phase, something I'd get over soon. But the longer it lingers, the more inclined I am to think that it just me. It's just a heart condition.
There's so much I'm confused about. There's seems to be so much hypocrisy. The church is full of it. The bible is full of inconsistency. I struggle to make it all mesh in my head, so my heart shuts it out.
There's so much I don't understand and nobody who has the time or patience to explain it to me. I spent several years wanting to soak it all up, understand it all. I wanted to live with no gray areas, just black and white. Now, I've drifted so far into the gray areas that I'm not sure I'll ever come back.
Don't get me wrong, along the way there has been several people who have agreed and tried to do bible and book studies with me. I've enjoyed some and failed miserably with some and just plain given up on some.
I'm starting to think if I ever want to experience any success or confidence, it will take a lot of discussing all the things that are confusing. People have described the bible as the living, breathing word of God. What the heck does that mean anyway? Oh, I digress...
Not an excuse but an explanation, my circumstances don't allow me to read a book and get much out of it. Book studies don't work with me, especially if I'm expected to do any of it alone. To complicate things, even with a genius IQ, I have a learning disability in reading comprehension. It doesn't matter if I read something thoroughly one time or 15 times, I'm not going to comprehend what I just read.
Wondering how I got through school with honors and tested out so high on my IQ and ACT tests? I scan read and summarize extremely well and got by. Want to know what the most difficult book is to comprehend with scan reading? The bible!
Ergo...I get the most education from discussion.
But even that's not working right now. My selective hearing kicks in along with my ADD and I spend all of discussion time playing Words with Friends or surfing the net.
Tonight, I heard one thing...one theme. Being angry is a sin.
I've spent the past five years with a Christian counselor and three years with a Christian psychologist. They encourage me to be angry. In fact, they tend to get a little bit giddy when I do get angry.
I'd like to say I was sitting with a group of peers tonight, but that wouldn't be fair to them. There's really not anyone in the group who hasn't been a Christian pretty much their entire lives. So, I know they know more than me.
They all agreed. It's a sin to be angry. Angry about a situation. Angry with another person. It's all sin. They were talking about Jesus. He didn't get angry that he had to die for something he didn't do. And, we are supposed to let that set the example for us.
I'm not Jesus! I AM angry. I just got comfortable being angry for all of the things which have happened to me.
Now, this group didn't say that they didn't ever get angry. I believe they were indirectly admitting to being sinners and they may have discussed this more. However, they were pretty adamant that anger is a sin.
What a hard, confusing thing to consider. So, am I just more comfortable being a sinner than they are? It took me a long time to learn how to be angry and I'm not sure I'm ready to not be. Does that somehow make me a bigger sinner?
But back up...why are people ok with me being angry? It was stated fairly clearly tonight that there is nothing righteous about anger. I'm so confused.
Sadly, I'm right on the fence about it all right now. I think that part of me wants desperately to know, to understand, to believe I have something to hold onto. The other part and maybe the bigger part of me just doesn't care.
I could probably talk to my counselor or psychologist about any of this, but I don't want to. I know what they would say. Sometimes they are too close and I crave another perspective.
It's probably no surprise that I'm really not praying right now. I can't. As warped as it may sound, I'm not giving God anything right now so I don't expect him to give me anything. But if I were, I'd probably be asking...no, begging...for him to provide someone who can help me through this. Someone who cares about my spiritual well-being more than I do. Someone who wouldn't be content to just watch me slip away. Someone who isn't afraid of me. Someone who isn't afraid of questions. Someone who isn't moved by my doubt. Someone who will trudge through my cynicism. Someone who won't bail on me before I trust them enough to dig past the surface. Someone who can accept that I have to hear things several times before I believe them.
I'm not impatient and I have no expectations of finding anyone like that. That's why I continuously feel myself slipping away.
God may be the life preserver, but what good is it if nobody is around to throw it to me?
That happened tonight as the small group I meet with was discussing today's church sermon. Honestly, I'm just at a point in my life that I don't want to hear and do everything I can to not hear it. I've thought at times that it was just a phase, something I'd get over soon. But the longer it lingers, the more inclined I am to think that it just me. It's just a heart condition.
There's so much I'm confused about. There's seems to be so much hypocrisy. The church is full of it. The bible is full of inconsistency. I struggle to make it all mesh in my head, so my heart shuts it out.
There's so much I don't understand and nobody who has the time or patience to explain it to me. I spent several years wanting to soak it all up, understand it all. I wanted to live with no gray areas, just black and white. Now, I've drifted so far into the gray areas that I'm not sure I'll ever come back.
Don't get me wrong, along the way there has been several people who have agreed and tried to do bible and book studies with me. I've enjoyed some and failed miserably with some and just plain given up on some.
I'm starting to think if I ever want to experience any success or confidence, it will take a lot of discussing all the things that are confusing. People have described the bible as the living, breathing word of God. What the heck does that mean anyway? Oh, I digress...
Not an excuse but an explanation, my circumstances don't allow me to read a book and get much out of it. Book studies don't work with me, especially if I'm expected to do any of it alone. To complicate things, even with a genius IQ, I have a learning disability in reading comprehension. It doesn't matter if I read something thoroughly one time or 15 times, I'm not going to comprehend what I just read.
Wondering how I got through school with honors and tested out so high on my IQ and ACT tests? I scan read and summarize extremely well and got by. Want to know what the most difficult book is to comprehend with scan reading? The bible!
Ergo...I get the most education from discussion.
But even that's not working right now. My selective hearing kicks in along with my ADD and I spend all of discussion time playing Words with Friends or surfing the net.
Tonight, I heard one thing...one theme. Being angry is a sin.
I've spent the past five years with a Christian counselor and three years with a Christian psychologist. They encourage me to be angry. In fact, they tend to get a little bit giddy when I do get angry.
I'd like to say I was sitting with a group of peers tonight, but that wouldn't be fair to them. There's really not anyone in the group who hasn't been a Christian pretty much their entire lives. So, I know they know more than me.
They all agreed. It's a sin to be angry. Angry about a situation. Angry with another person. It's all sin. They were talking about Jesus. He didn't get angry that he had to die for something he didn't do. And, we are supposed to let that set the example for us.
I'm not Jesus! I AM angry. I just got comfortable being angry for all of the things which have happened to me.
Now, this group didn't say that they didn't ever get angry. I believe they were indirectly admitting to being sinners and they may have discussed this more. However, they were pretty adamant that anger is a sin.
What a hard, confusing thing to consider. So, am I just more comfortable being a sinner than they are? It took me a long time to learn how to be angry and I'm not sure I'm ready to not be. Does that somehow make me a bigger sinner?
But back up...why are people ok with me being angry? It was stated fairly clearly tonight that there is nothing righteous about anger. I'm so confused.
Sadly, I'm right on the fence about it all right now. I think that part of me wants desperately to know, to understand, to believe I have something to hold onto. The other part and maybe the bigger part of me just doesn't care.
I could probably talk to my counselor or psychologist about any of this, but I don't want to. I know what they would say. Sometimes they are too close and I crave another perspective.
It's probably no surprise that I'm really not praying right now. I can't. As warped as it may sound, I'm not giving God anything right now so I don't expect him to give me anything. But if I were, I'd probably be asking...no, begging...for him to provide someone who can help me through this. Someone who cares about my spiritual well-being more than I do. Someone who wouldn't be content to just watch me slip away. Someone who isn't afraid of me. Someone who isn't afraid of questions. Someone who isn't moved by my doubt. Someone who will trudge through my cynicism. Someone who won't bail on me before I trust them enough to dig past the surface. Someone who can accept that I have to hear things several times before I believe them.
I'm not impatient and I have no expectations of finding anyone like that. That's why I continuously feel myself slipping away.
God may be the life preserver, but what good is it if nobody is around to throw it to me?
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Aging with Humor and Love Part 3
I'll probably continue to share my experiences with the senior couple from church because I want to record everything I learn from them. I want to have a place to look back and be reminded of all they have taught me and all of the experiences that made me laugh, think and smile.
This post isn't necessarily about any experience with them, but it's something that they have indirectly caused me to learn about myself.
Without question, I am absolutely fearful that every person I meet will hurt me. I know it may seem irrational for some of you. When you think about a child going through the first 18 years of their life with no real experiences of being protected and nearly every adult in their life hurting them physically, emotionally and sexually, it's probably not a stretch to believe that they expect every person to hurt them in some way or another.
That's exactly how I live my life. Men and women, I expect everyone to hurt me. Even the nice ones, even the ones I've known a long time....I just wait for them to hurt me.
This couple, this feeble, elderly couple living in one of the most vulnerable times in their lives, they don't foster any fear in me of being hurt. I don't have one thought, not one ounce of fear that they will do anything that could ever hurt me.
How about that?!?!
There are two people in this big, nasty world who I don't have to be afraid of at all.
The wife is so frail. I just want to wrap her up and protect her. It's funny to say, but when I'm around her I feel a bit motherly. Me feeling a bit motherly to an 80 year-old woman...who would have thought! She is so incredibly sweet and kind-hearted. I find myself wanting to make sure I don't offend or hurt her feelings more than vice versa.
If you know any of my background, you can probably understand that I have an even more difficult time believing a man would never hurt me.
I think I'm experiencing a first. As I shared with a friend this week, I think the husband is maybe the first male I've EVER not been afraid of. I don't even think about it. I watch him having to rely on everybody around him and just instinctively understand that his is not a threat to me.
It is a huge, HUGE thing for me recognize, understand and truly believe that there are people in this world who won't hurt me. It's just a glimpse of how most people approach relationships. Most people I know don't instinctively go into relationships expecting to be hurt.
If I were to not learn another thing from this couple or given another moment to spend with them, this would be enough for them to have a permanent place in my heart. They've changed me. I can never again say that I've never met anyone I wasn't afraid of.
I could never thank them enough for the things they have shared with me or the things they have taught me about myself.
This post isn't necessarily about any experience with them, but it's something that they have indirectly caused me to learn about myself.
Without question, I am absolutely fearful that every person I meet will hurt me. I know it may seem irrational for some of you. When you think about a child going through the first 18 years of their life with no real experiences of being protected and nearly every adult in their life hurting them physically, emotionally and sexually, it's probably not a stretch to believe that they expect every person to hurt them in some way or another.
That's exactly how I live my life. Men and women, I expect everyone to hurt me. Even the nice ones, even the ones I've known a long time....I just wait for them to hurt me.
This couple, this feeble, elderly couple living in one of the most vulnerable times in their lives, they don't foster any fear in me of being hurt. I don't have one thought, not one ounce of fear that they will do anything that could ever hurt me.
How about that?!?!
There are two people in this big, nasty world who I don't have to be afraid of at all.
The wife is so frail. I just want to wrap her up and protect her. It's funny to say, but when I'm around her I feel a bit motherly. Me feeling a bit motherly to an 80 year-old woman...who would have thought! She is so incredibly sweet and kind-hearted. I find myself wanting to make sure I don't offend or hurt her feelings more than vice versa.
If you know any of my background, you can probably understand that I have an even more difficult time believing a man would never hurt me.
I think I'm experiencing a first. As I shared with a friend this week, I think the husband is maybe the first male I've EVER not been afraid of. I don't even think about it. I watch him having to rely on everybody around him and just instinctively understand that his is not a threat to me.
It is a huge, HUGE thing for me recognize, understand and truly believe that there are people in this world who won't hurt me. It's just a glimpse of how most people approach relationships. Most people I know don't instinctively go into relationships expecting to be hurt.
If I were to not learn another thing from this couple or given another moment to spend with them, this would be enough for them to have a permanent place in my heart. They've changed me. I can never again say that I've never met anyone I wasn't afraid of.
I could never thank them enough for the things they have shared with me or the things they have taught me about myself.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Ready for the Weekend
It's literally been a dog-took-a-dump on me kind of week. No kidding!
Saturday - rubbed my elbow on hot pan
Sunday - Stubbed my toe, ripped toenail
Monday - dropped ketchup on my lavender shirt
Tuesday - the lid for my frap was cracked and coffee spilled down front of other lavender shirt
Wednesday - chopped off a chunk of my thumb
Thursday - had the dog next to me in the truck and she pooped on my leg
That's just a portion of it. I could throw in all of the other stuff that happened this week. It was a crap filled week dealing with people too.
I found out my niece and nephew are dealing with some significant bullying back home. My heart breaks for them. They both have some speech problems, learning disabilities and are chunky kids. They are prime targets for bullying. It makes me sick to think about these kids getting picked on. I love them so much that when they hurt, I hurt for them.
I had a parent at church tell her child that I was mean. That came a few days after another mother from church questioned my ability to babysit a child, since I don't have kids. I found myself in a position where I felt I needed to tell the world that I do in fact like children and I am not mean. I often tell people that I am afraid of children as a way to avoid the super painful discussion about why I don't have any children. I think it's understandable that I don't like to talk about being pregnant so many times and never giving birth to a child who survived. I guess I'll have to find a different way to avoid that conversation that can't be taken out of context.
I watched a dear friend work "the system" and take advantage of other people I care about. Ouch! It's not that I put all of my friends on a pedestal or expect perfection from them. However, when I get to know someone well and hear them lay out what they believe is right and wrong and then I see them do all the things they say are wrong....well, let's just say I lose all respect for them. It's not like I have a lot of close friends, so it stings when one looks like a keeper but I have to throw them back.
Speaking of disappointing human behavior, I've had my fill of it in another area that I just can't discuss right now. All I can say is that it's extremely disappointing and a little bit crushing to see hypocritical, immature behavior from some of the most mature people you know.
Today, I had two teenage girls standing just a few feet away from me whispering about how weird I was. They really don't know me and I've always done my best to be cordial and kind to them. But, I heard every word they said.
I'd like to mention that I am not perfect! I know I have a ton of faults. However, I can tell you that a week like this one certainly does not help my already difficult time in believing people are good, kind, loving, genuine or even offer common consideration for other human beings.
I don't say this with any kind of selfishness at all. But I so need to see something good. I need to have my faith renewed in people. I feel like I'm on the verge of writing off people and becoming a lonely old hermit the rest of my life.
What's sad is that I, like many others, equate the love of God with the people in my life. It's too hard to believe that God is any better than what you see around you. I think I need to see the good in people to again believe that God is good.
Saturday - rubbed my elbow on hot pan
Sunday - Stubbed my toe, ripped toenail
Monday - dropped ketchup on my lavender shirt
Tuesday - the lid for my frap was cracked and coffee spilled down front of other lavender shirt
Wednesday - chopped off a chunk of my thumb
Thursday - had the dog next to me in the truck and she pooped on my leg
That's just a portion of it. I could throw in all of the other stuff that happened this week. It was a crap filled week dealing with people too.
I found out my niece and nephew are dealing with some significant bullying back home. My heart breaks for them. They both have some speech problems, learning disabilities and are chunky kids. They are prime targets for bullying. It makes me sick to think about these kids getting picked on. I love them so much that when they hurt, I hurt for them.
I had a parent at church tell her child that I was mean. That came a few days after another mother from church questioned my ability to babysit a child, since I don't have kids. I found myself in a position where I felt I needed to tell the world that I do in fact like children and I am not mean. I often tell people that I am afraid of children as a way to avoid the super painful discussion about why I don't have any children. I think it's understandable that I don't like to talk about being pregnant so many times and never giving birth to a child who survived. I guess I'll have to find a different way to avoid that conversation that can't be taken out of context.
I watched a dear friend work "the system" and take advantage of other people I care about. Ouch! It's not that I put all of my friends on a pedestal or expect perfection from them. However, when I get to know someone well and hear them lay out what they believe is right and wrong and then I see them do all the things they say are wrong....well, let's just say I lose all respect for them. It's not like I have a lot of close friends, so it stings when one looks like a keeper but I have to throw them back.
Speaking of disappointing human behavior, I've had my fill of it in another area that I just can't discuss right now. All I can say is that it's extremely disappointing and a little bit crushing to see hypocritical, immature behavior from some of the most mature people you know.
Today, I had two teenage girls standing just a few feet away from me whispering about how weird I was. They really don't know me and I've always done my best to be cordial and kind to them. But, I heard every word they said.
I'd like to mention that I am not perfect! I know I have a ton of faults. However, I can tell you that a week like this one certainly does not help my already difficult time in believing people are good, kind, loving, genuine or even offer common consideration for other human beings.
I don't say this with any kind of selfishness at all. But I so need to see something good. I need to have my faith renewed in people. I feel like I'm on the verge of writing off people and becoming a lonely old hermit the rest of my life.
What's sad is that I, like many others, equate the love of God with the people in my life. It's too hard to believe that God is any better than what you see around you. I think I need to see the good in people to again believe that God is good.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Aging with Humor and Love Part 2
As I mentioned before, I've gotten to spend some time with a senior couple from church over the past couple months. Now that they have moved closer to me, I'm getting an opportunity to see them more often. The more time I spend with them, the more I love them. What's more important, the more time I spend with them, the more I hold onto a lost hope that at the core of people is a desire to be good and loving.
You'll probably see a few more posts on this couple as I continue to learn from them, even though they have no idea they are teaching me anything. I continue to soak in their love and kindness, even though they have no idea how much that means to me. I continue to have opportunities with them that I will never get within my own family, even though they don't realize it.
Last night, I spent an hour with the husband. Unfortunately, the wife is again in the hospital. This summer they've gotten into quite a pattern of swapping turns with short term stays in the local hospital. Hopefully, fall will bring that to an end and we can get them both back home, healthier and happy.
The first thing on the agenda last night was getting the husband outside so he could get used to his motorized scooter. For not having much experience on it, he did a great job! Now let me tell you something...if you think an 80 year-old man can't get squirrelly, think again!
We started out our walk with him asking me if I wanted to see him do a wheelie. Jokingly, I said I'd give him $5. I should have known I was in trouble when he said, "I'm only running this thing about a 1/4 of the speed it can go." Followed by, "Want to see me run it wide open?" I laughed it off and continue to enjoy the sound of the crunchy leaves.
As we were headed down the last transition from sidewalk to street, he turned his head and smiled. I'm not sure what he did, but it ended in him nearly spinning out and him laughing hysterically. I learned I better go in front of him on transitions from now on!
Back at the house, I helped with some little things that needed done and he sat down to eat dinner. This was my favorite part of the evening.
I sat down to chat with him while he ate. We were talking about how he could visit with neighbors if he got more comfortable on his scooter. He said most of the people around were women, but he didn't mind. He shared with me that he never had a lot of guy friends, but had made friends with lots of women. Understandably, as he pointed out, he worked in a woman's world. He worked in schools, which used to be predominately women.
He said that his wife always kept a close eye on him around all of those women. He shared that even though she had no reason to be, she could get a little jealous. He said that he didn't think he could go visit with any of the women that lived around him because she could still get a "little jealous." I saw the twinkle in his eyes. It was that look you see in a young man who knows he's got a good young woman who loves him and he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.
Now, I hope that when I've been married 50+ years that I still love my husband enough to get a tad bit jealous. I know jealousy overall isn't a good thing, but in this case...it's just plain cute. It's like they never lost those warm fuzzy feelings that you get when you are first dating someone and want them to be all yours.
I want to love my husband like that. I want that desire for him to be all mine to never fade. I hope when we are old, feeble, gray and falling apart that we still light up when we talk about each other.
(Note to self: ask this couple someday what the key is to never losing that spark for each other and how you get through those tough times when you don't know from day to day if you'll be able to stand 50+ years with your spouse.)
The twinkle in his eye and grin led to a full laugh as we continued to talk. We both agreed that she probably had nothing to worry about with him talking to his neighbors. As he said, "At my age, what am I gonna do?" To which I responded, "Maybe share a multi-vitamin or a bowl of raisin bran?" His make-you-laugh-till-you-cry response, "I'm NOT sharing my cereal with anybody!"
It's all about the humor and love....truly.
You'll probably see a few more posts on this couple as I continue to learn from them, even though they have no idea they are teaching me anything. I continue to soak in their love and kindness, even though they have no idea how much that means to me. I continue to have opportunities with them that I will never get within my own family, even though they don't realize it.
Last night, I spent an hour with the husband. Unfortunately, the wife is again in the hospital. This summer they've gotten into quite a pattern of swapping turns with short term stays in the local hospital. Hopefully, fall will bring that to an end and we can get them both back home, healthier and happy.
The first thing on the agenda last night was getting the husband outside so he could get used to his motorized scooter. For not having much experience on it, he did a great job! Now let me tell you something...if you think an 80 year-old man can't get squirrelly, think again!
We started out our walk with him asking me if I wanted to see him do a wheelie. Jokingly, I said I'd give him $5. I should have known I was in trouble when he said, "I'm only running this thing about a 1/4 of the speed it can go." Followed by, "Want to see me run it wide open?" I laughed it off and continue to enjoy the sound of the crunchy leaves.
As we were headed down the last transition from sidewalk to street, he turned his head and smiled. I'm not sure what he did, but it ended in him nearly spinning out and him laughing hysterically. I learned I better go in front of him on transitions from now on!
Back at the house, I helped with some little things that needed done and he sat down to eat dinner. This was my favorite part of the evening.
I sat down to chat with him while he ate. We were talking about how he could visit with neighbors if he got more comfortable on his scooter. He said most of the people around were women, but he didn't mind. He shared with me that he never had a lot of guy friends, but had made friends with lots of women. Understandably, as he pointed out, he worked in a woman's world. He worked in schools, which used to be predominately women.
He said that his wife always kept a close eye on him around all of those women. He shared that even though she had no reason to be, she could get a little jealous. He said that he didn't think he could go visit with any of the women that lived around him because she could still get a "little jealous." I saw the twinkle in his eyes. It was that look you see in a young man who knows he's got a good young woman who loves him and he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.
Now, I hope that when I've been married 50+ years that I still love my husband enough to get a tad bit jealous. I know jealousy overall isn't a good thing, but in this case...it's just plain cute. It's like they never lost those warm fuzzy feelings that you get when you are first dating someone and want them to be all yours.
I want to love my husband like that. I want that desire for him to be all mine to never fade. I hope when we are old, feeble, gray and falling apart that we still light up when we talk about each other.
(Note to self: ask this couple someday what the key is to never losing that spark for each other and how you get through those tough times when you don't know from day to day if you'll be able to stand 50+ years with your spouse.)
The twinkle in his eye and grin led to a full laugh as we continued to talk. We both agreed that she probably had nothing to worry about with him talking to his neighbors. As he said, "At my age, what am I gonna do?" To which I responded, "Maybe share a multi-vitamin or a bowl of raisin bran?" His make-you-laugh-till-you-cry response, "I'm NOT sharing my cereal with anybody!"
It's all about the humor and love....truly.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Drought
It has been a long, long two weeks since my last post. I decided I didn't have any energy left to bitch and complain. I decided you didn't have the desire to read one more crazy post about how crappy life is right now. I decided there wasn't anything worthy of reporting.
In fact, tonight I'm again writing for myself. I'm writing with some demented hope that I'll be able to someday look back at this post and see it was only a short trip down into the pit of life and there was something wonderful waiting for me when I came back out.
I don't know if it is a pit I am in or a long, dry, dusty road or a considerable drought. Whatever you want to call it, it's rough. But my spiritual life is much like a tumbleweed blowing around on an old, dusty road. If you've ever seen a tumbleweed, you know they blow all around until the elements break them down or they get smashed by oncoming traffic. Big or little, they are fairly delicate.
Honestly, I've become one of "THEM." By the them, I mean those people who go to church or serve their church but are so far from God. I'm not even kidding about that. I stay so busy helping here or serving there. My Monday thru Thursday schedule is absolutely jam packed full right now. I am checking the boxes because I've committed and am obligated, whether I feel like it or not.
I'm not sure there's much sense of commitment or obligation in my relationship with God. Actually, there's none. Regardless of what I'm taught, told or know, I'm pretty certain God has taken a hiatus from my life since May.
In May, I was barely hanging on but I had a lot of things carrying me through. I had a friend who continuously encouraged me in regards to church. She discussed scripture with me. She answered questions and asked just as many. She challenged my decisions in loving ways as she lined them up with scripture. It wasn't the amount of time she spent with me, but the quality. Over summer, she moved and I've lost that type of relationship with no prospects on the horizon.
At the end of spring, beginning of summer, I was working through bible studies with a couple people. It seems like life has just gotten too busy for everybody.
Summer has been a repetitive story of pray for a good outcome about something serious, only to have the opposite thing happen. Pray for no cancer for a friend, friend diagnosed with cancer (x3). Pray for no chemo for friend, friend needs chemo. Pray for ...., no, no no. I can tell you that this has happened so much since May, that I finally just gave up. Regardless of the thing that needs prayed over, I just don't. Why bother! God obviously doesn't listen to me, so I'm not going to talk to him.
I've had the unfortunately experience of seeing a wide-spectrum of behavior from church members too. And let me tell you, some of it is ugly. I'm not going to point fingers or name the long list of things I've found to be offensive or inappropriate. I'm not even going to fault any of them. I'm going to take all the fault on me. Someone close to me recently pointed out to me that my expectations of Christians are too high. Ouch! Regardless, it's upsetting and my gut tells me to run...run far away because something doesn't feel right here.
I think my final cold-heart indicator came this past weekend. September 9th was the 5th anniversary of the day I was baptized. Usually, I get excited in the days leading up to the 9th. I change my facebook picture to my baptism photo. I remind everyone who will listen how that time of my life changed me forever. The day of, I take time to remember that day. Not this year. The day came and went and I didn't even think about it. The day after I mentioned it to one person with no enthusiasm at all.
The thing is, I'm not sure how to change it. I'm not sure I want it to change. Maybe this is the beginning of the end for me. Maybe I'm not and never was a Christian. Maybe God doesn't want me. Maybe nobody wants me.
In fact, tonight I'm again writing for myself. I'm writing with some demented hope that I'll be able to someday look back at this post and see it was only a short trip down into the pit of life and there was something wonderful waiting for me when I came back out.
I don't know if it is a pit I am in or a long, dry, dusty road or a considerable drought. Whatever you want to call it, it's rough. But my spiritual life is much like a tumbleweed blowing around on an old, dusty road. If you've ever seen a tumbleweed, you know they blow all around until the elements break them down or they get smashed by oncoming traffic. Big or little, they are fairly delicate.
Honestly, I've become one of "THEM." By the them, I mean those people who go to church or serve their church but are so far from God. I'm not even kidding about that. I stay so busy helping here or serving there. My Monday thru Thursday schedule is absolutely jam packed full right now. I am checking the boxes because I've committed and am obligated, whether I feel like it or not.
I'm not sure there's much sense of commitment or obligation in my relationship with God. Actually, there's none. Regardless of what I'm taught, told or know, I'm pretty certain God has taken a hiatus from my life since May.
In May, I was barely hanging on but I had a lot of things carrying me through. I had a friend who continuously encouraged me in regards to church. She discussed scripture with me. She answered questions and asked just as many. She challenged my decisions in loving ways as she lined them up with scripture. It wasn't the amount of time she spent with me, but the quality. Over summer, she moved and I've lost that type of relationship with no prospects on the horizon.
At the end of spring, beginning of summer, I was working through bible studies with a couple people. It seems like life has just gotten too busy for everybody.
Summer has been a repetitive story of pray for a good outcome about something serious, only to have the opposite thing happen. Pray for no cancer for a friend, friend diagnosed with cancer (x3). Pray for no chemo for friend, friend needs chemo. Pray for ...., no, no no. I can tell you that this has happened so much since May, that I finally just gave up. Regardless of the thing that needs prayed over, I just don't. Why bother! God obviously doesn't listen to me, so I'm not going to talk to him.
I've had the unfortunately experience of seeing a wide-spectrum of behavior from church members too. And let me tell you, some of it is ugly. I'm not going to point fingers or name the long list of things I've found to be offensive or inappropriate. I'm not even going to fault any of them. I'm going to take all the fault on me. Someone close to me recently pointed out to me that my expectations of Christians are too high. Ouch! Regardless, it's upsetting and my gut tells me to run...run far away because something doesn't feel right here.
I think my final cold-heart indicator came this past weekend. September 9th was the 5th anniversary of the day I was baptized. Usually, I get excited in the days leading up to the 9th. I change my facebook picture to my baptism photo. I remind everyone who will listen how that time of my life changed me forever. The day of, I take time to remember that day. Not this year. The day came and went and I didn't even think about it. The day after I mentioned it to one person with no enthusiasm at all.
The thing is, I'm not sure how to change it. I'm not sure I want it to change. Maybe this is the beginning of the end for me. Maybe I'm not and never was a Christian. Maybe God doesn't want me. Maybe nobody wants me.
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