One of my favorite things to read, at present, is Pioneer Woman. She's funny, she's nuts, and her life is like a ancient fortress, primed and tended by generations gone before. It's immovable. On the days when the fast pace of action and adventure and constant change is too hard to swallow, I dream of the constancy of a rancher's life and escape into her world. And besides all of that, I can read each entry in a few minutes and then hurry on to what's pressing.
Right now I'm sitting in my pajamas at 9:30 in a dark quiet house listening to the coffee pot percolate wondering if I'll ever have a day like this again. I haven't laughed or cried or remenisced or made memories like I have this week in all of my life. One of the richest blessings that God has lavished on us has to be, no holds barred, the friendship that Christians have because of Christ. Relationships with people of like faith nurture us in ways that nothing else can. I am rich, even when we're broke, because of my family and my friends. People all around me lift me up and encourage me, cheering me on in the race, and when I can't physically hear them, they are praying for me. How can it be that God in all of the mystery and wonder that is His would place in my life so many people that really truly love me for who I am and with my countless flaws? I am more than blessed, I'm in awe.
We're moving to California in four days. I feel relaxed, drinking my coffee, chatting on the telephone, moving slowly through my day, but my mind and body tell me otherwise. In the midst of conversation there are gaps because I can't bring the word to mind that I want. I love words. Words are like sweet candy in my world and I can't find them or use them well because of the mental capacity overload that I am denying by my actions but is evidenced by the constant churning in my stomach. I am laughing more than crying, which is good, but that will come in time. Life is good, but I am swimming in the overwhelmingness of my present. It will all settle again in the weeks to come and I won't be so scattered, but for now this is what I am. SO PRAY FOR ME, my sweet and wonderful friends, and know that I am praying for you as you call or stop by or come to mind.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Thirty-One
As of seventeen minutes ago, I am thirty-one. I'm officially in my thirties. I was thirty last year; this year I am embarking on my thirties- some more than thirty. I'm thirty-one and this is what I know.
1. I have found true love.
2. I have learned how to love truly.
3. Children breed life.
4. Laughter is good medicine.
5. Kindness does not equal politeness.
6. Talk less, live more.
7. I am not a good listener but I'm learning.
8. Family is forever.
9. Acceptance is freedom.
10. Don't make excuses. Your friends don't need them and your enemies don't believe them.
11. Hard work is invigorating.
12. Music, fresh air, and sunshine chase the blues away.
13. The Word of God is LIFE.
14. Hope is my worldview.
15. Appearances tell lies.
16. My favorite place is the backyard.
17. You really only need five good friends, and sometimes only four.
18. Wardrobe is how you wear it, not what you're wearing.
19. Clean house because it's a responsibility, not just for company.
20. Slow and steady makes Mommy a lot nicer.
21. Sugar makes me fat.
22. Exercise kills me and gives me new life.
23. Dance parties in the living room. Just do it.
24. I still care what people think.
25. I am totally and completely in love with Dale.
26. I'm really glad I never started smoking.
27. I wish I never would've started Starbucks.
28. My kids are the most mesmerizing little people I've ever known.
29. Writing gives me wings.
30. I'm a dreamer.
31. Life goes faster every year. Live now.
1. I have found true love.
2. I have learned how to love truly.
3. Children breed life.
4. Laughter is good medicine.
5. Kindness does not equal politeness.
6. Talk less, live more.
7. I am not a good listener but I'm learning.
8. Family is forever.
9. Acceptance is freedom.
10. Don't make excuses. Your friends don't need them and your enemies don't believe them.
11. Hard work is invigorating.
12. Music, fresh air, and sunshine chase the blues away.
13. The Word of God is LIFE.
14. Hope is my worldview.
15. Appearances tell lies.
16. My favorite place is the backyard.
17. You really only need five good friends, and sometimes only four.
18. Wardrobe is how you wear it, not what you're wearing.
19. Clean house because it's a responsibility, not just for company.
20. Slow and steady makes Mommy a lot nicer.
21. Sugar makes me fat.
22. Exercise kills me and gives me new life.
23. Dance parties in the living room. Just do it.
24. I still care what people think.
25. I am totally and completely in love with Dale.
26. I'm really glad I never started smoking.
27. I wish I never would've started Starbucks.
28. My kids are the most mesmerizing little people I've ever known.
29. Writing gives me wings.
30. I'm a dreamer.
31. Life goes faster every year. Live now.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Good Things
Moving has yet to top my *favorite things* list, but there are perks. Like the countless loads of neglected toys that find new homes via the Goodwill, the hundreds of pounds of garbage that are lifted from our habitation, and my personal favorite, the journey down memory lane.
In a stack of unmarked VHS tapes I found my wedding video. This year marks our eleventh anniversary and a deeper dive into the boundless love that is ours because of Christ. I watched with tears rolling down my cheeks surrounded by our childern in the life that is ours because of Christ. What was really fascinating to me was the love that we felt with such intensity for each other when we barely knew one another, I could see it in our eyes. It was the same look that I have in my eyes now only it was naive and innocent and untainted and shallow. Depth comes with trial and perseverance and suffering and pushing past what seems hopeless to attain what is hoped for.
I cry so easily these days... maybe it really is the overwhelming situations that I continue to find myself in, but I don't think so. It's true; I'm sad, and nervous, and pre-lonely, but I don't think that's it either. I think it's that in this life, I have everything. I have everything this life has to offer. We have health and hope and peace and family that sticks and loves each other deeply and almost inexpressibly. I think they are tears of gratitude for the goodness that my God, who is generous and defines love, has lavished on someone so unworthy of any good thing.
So when I read your emails so full of anguish, I cry, because I've been there and will be there again hoping someone is crying with me and praying for my peace as I am for you, knowing that on the other side there is rest for God's people.
In a stack of unmarked VHS tapes I found my wedding video. This year marks our eleventh anniversary and a deeper dive into the boundless love that is ours because of Christ. I watched with tears rolling down my cheeks surrounded by our childern in the life that is ours because of Christ. What was really fascinating to me was the love that we felt with such intensity for each other when we barely knew one another, I could see it in our eyes. It was the same look that I have in my eyes now only it was naive and innocent and untainted and shallow. Depth comes with trial and perseverance and suffering and pushing past what seems hopeless to attain what is hoped for.
I cry so easily these days... maybe it really is the overwhelming situations that I continue to find myself in, but I don't think so. It's true; I'm sad, and nervous, and pre-lonely, but I don't think that's it either. I think it's that in this life, I have everything. I have everything this life has to offer. We have health and hope and peace and family that sticks and loves each other deeply and almost inexpressibly. I think they are tears of gratitude for the goodness that my God, who is generous and defines love, has lavished on someone so unworthy of any good thing.
So when I read your emails so full of anguish, I cry, because I've been there and will be there again hoping someone is crying with me and praying for my peace as I am for you, knowing that on the other side there is rest for God's people.
Friday, May 18, 2007
April showers bring May flowers
In the sixth grade I lived two blocks from my school. If I went through the front door, it was three and a half blocks, so typically I went out the backdoor, cut through the alley, and through our backyard neighbor's driveway/parking lot. *side: He was an orthodontist, built a mansion with an orthodontic practice in the lower half. He's having a difficult time selling the house/practice.* When the weather was tolerable, older kids, probably eighth graders, would crowd into a corner behind his house in the alley to smoke. If it was cold, they'd hang in a tight group to block the wind. I never thought much of it; actually, my siblings and I would balk at them in disdain from our kitchen window, generally passing by with an air of self-righteousness. It was rare for me to be alone in the exchange because Jon, my older brother, attended the school across from mine so I always timed my departure to coincide with his.
In the sixth grade I had relatively short frizzy red hair that may have been construed in current fashion circles as a mullet. I wore glasses. They weren't the dark brown trendy 80s-esque frames that everyone esle wore; mine were blue. And not blue everywhere, but blue in clear plastic that faded in and out. The arms, the sides of the glasses, swooped down in perfect grandma fashion on each side. My favorite thing to wear with my blue glasses, was a blue and white striped wide-necked sweater, and a shell necklace that my friend Melissa brought me from Hawaii. Not a pretty white choker that is still fashionable, a long string of seashells that "chinked" everytime I moved. As a sixth grader, I was pretty hot.
It was cold one morning when I rolled out of bed at ten minutes to eight; everyone else was rushing around to get to where they were going. By the time I had dressed and brushed my teeth, which was really all I did to get ready for school, the house was nearly empty and I was forced to make the trek by myself. Scarffing my breakfast, I prayed that the smokers wouldn't be in the alley as I pulled back a corner of the curtain on the back door and peeked through the window. To my dismay there was a raucous swarm of jean-jacket clad teenagers puffing away. Of course I considered going out the front door and walking the extra two blocks to avoid them completely, but I knew I'd be late for school. So I had a little pep talk with myself about how I was eleven now and needed to be tougher and push past my silly fears of strangers and walking places by myself. Taking a deep breath, I put on my bravest face and strode through the backdoor and down the sidewalk to the gate. My heart was racing, but my face was stone cold and I was fearless... until I caught the attention of the oldest member of the crowd.
Remember when you were in school and there was always a guy hanging around the parking lot, sometimes he'd show up at recess and you thought he was so cool? He must've been at least 19 because he had a 10-speed and a cigarrette behind his ear. He usually wore sunglasses, an REO Speedwagon t-shirt, and only the cool kids knew his name...? You know the guy. That was the guy in the alley that day that interrupted the conversation of the pack to say, "Hey there, pretty thing," and smile an invitational smile.
Alarms went off in my head; I was panic-strickened. I was a fearful child, for whatever reason, but this was the first I had experienced immanent danger by myself.
I hurried on to the safety of the orthodontist's parking lot hoping there would be people with early appointments on the other side of that gate. Trying not to "run scared" I scurried as fast as I could to school and then cried all day. My teacher was so wise in her dealings with me. I was not only fearful, but often very emotional as well, so she drew the attention away from my desk by the window and went right on teaching like everything was fine while I put my head on the desk and cried.
The time frame is sketchy here because everything sat in my memory like the present; it may have been the same month weeks prior when a fellow 6th grader was raped on school grounds by a high boy who played to her general innocence and coerced her into the auditorium where he sexually assaulted an eleven-year-old girl. Someone I saw everyday at school was assaulted in a place I was forced to go everyday. And maybe it was two or three weeks before that when our there was a telephone call during Sunday morning worship with a request to pray for another church who had, minutes before, been accosted by a man toting a duffel bag full of guns and ammunition who randomly opened fire on the congregation. Both events troubled me deeply.
What changed me in those consecutive events was the reality that tragedy is no respector of persons and people are not generally good. That's a tough pill to swallow for a child. I didn't want to go to school because I was afraid that I wouldn't be so lucky the next time I ran into the drop-out that smoked with eighth-graders in the alley. And I didn't want to be in the school where grown up boys could just walk in and rape whomever fell into their trap. And the only safe place I loved to go was no longer safe from murders who had no respect for anything or anyone. I don't think that my fear was unreasonable.
Maybe that's why I loved Bonnie so much, my childhood best friend. She was fearless. While I ducked and covered in the face of danger, she stood with dignity, whether someone was threatening her or tornadoes were spinning above the mall where we were shopping. She was fearless.
Regardless of the turbulence of the sixth grade, God has given me wisdom in this one thing that enables me to sleep at night in this truly fallen world. In life there are countless tragedies that could devastate a person, not just wierdos and their antics, but sickness, danger, poverty, natural disaster. We live in the archer's attack on Braveheart and the arrows are tragedies. Our only defense is salvation. God is the umbrella, the shield around us, and He allows only the arrows of His choosing under the cover of His mercy, and that to change us and build endurance. *Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.*
So I'm thankful that God has chosen the events of my course and will craft in me the character of His goodness in due time.
In the sixth grade I had relatively short frizzy red hair that may have been construed in current fashion circles as a mullet. I wore glasses. They weren't the dark brown trendy 80s-esque frames that everyone esle wore; mine were blue. And not blue everywhere, but blue in clear plastic that faded in and out. The arms, the sides of the glasses, swooped down in perfect grandma fashion on each side. My favorite thing to wear with my blue glasses, was a blue and white striped wide-necked sweater, and a shell necklace that my friend Melissa brought me from Hawaii. Not a pretty white choker that is still fashionable, a long string of seashells that "chinked" everytime I moved. As a sixth grader, I was pretty hot.
It was cold one morning when I rolled out of bed at ten minutes to eight; everyone else was rushing around to get to where they were going. By the time I had dressed and brushed my teeth, which was really all I did to get ready for school, the house was nearly empty and I was forced to make the trek by myself. Scarffing my breakfast, I prayed that the smokers wouldn't be in the alley as I pulled back a corner of the curtain on the back door and peeked through the window. To my dismay there was a raucous swarm of jean-jacket clad teenagers puffing away. Of course I considered going out the front door and walking the extra two blocks to avoid them completely, but I knew I'd be late for school. So I had a little pep talk with myself about how I was eleven now and needed to be tougher and push past my silly fears of strangers and walking places by myself. Taking a deep breath, I put on my bravest face and strode through the backdoor and down the sidewalk to the gate. My heart was racing, but my face was stone cold and I was fearless... until I caught the attention of the oldest member of the crowd.
Remember when you were in school and there was always a guy hanging around the parking lot, sometimes he'd show up at recess and you thought he was so cool? He must've been at least 19 because he had a 10-speed and a cigarrette behind his ear. He usually wore sunglasses, an REO Speedwagon t-shirt, and only the cool kids knew his name...? You know the guy. That was the guy in the alley that day that interrupted the conversation of the pack to say, "Hey there, pretty thing," and smile an invitational smile.
Alarms went off in my head; I was panic-strickened. I was a fearful child, for whatever reason, but this was the first I had experienced immanent danger by myself.
I hurried on to the safety of the orthodontist's parking lot hoping there would be people with early appointments on the other side of that gate. Trying not to "run scared" I scurried as fast as I could to school and then cried all day. My teacher was so wise in her dealings with me. I was not only fearful, but often very emotional as well, so she drew the attention away from my desk by the window and went right on teaching like everything was fine while I put my head on the desk and cried.
The time frame is sketchy here because everything sat in my memory like the present; it may have been the same month weeks prior when a fellow 6th grader was raped on school grounds by a high boy who played to her general innocence and coerced her into the auditorium where he sexually assaulted an eleven-year-old girl. Someone I saw everyday at school was assaulted in a place I was forced to go everyday. And maybe it was two or three weeks before that when our there was a telephone call during Sunday morning worship with a request to pray for another church who had, minutes before, been accosted by a man toting a duffel bag full of guns and ammunition who randomly opened fire on the congregation. Both events troubled me deeply.
What changed me in those consecutive events was the reality that tragedy is no respector of persons and people are not generally good. That's a tough pill to swallow for a child. I didn't want to go to school because I was afraid that I wouldn't be so lucky the next time I ran into the drop-out that smoked with eighth-graders in the alley. And I didn't want to be in the school where grown up boys could just walk in and rape whomever fell into their trap. And the only safe place I loved to go was no longer safe from murders who had no respect for anything or anyone. I don't think that my fear was unreasonable.
Maybe that's why I loved Bonnie so much, my childhood best friend. She was fearless. While I ducked and covered in the face of danger, she stood with dignity, whether someone was threatening her or tornadoes were spinning above the mall where we were shopping. She was fearless.
Regardless of the turbulence of the sixth grade, God has given me wisdom in this one thing that enables me to sleep at night in this truly fallen world. In life there are countless tragedies that could devastate a person, not just wierdos and their antics, but sickness, danger, poverty, natural disaster. We live in the archer's attack on Braveheart and the arrows are tragedies. Our only defense is salvation. God is the umbrella, the shield around us, and He allows only the arrows of His choosing under the cover of His mercy, and that to change us and build endurance. *Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.*
So I'm thankful that God has chosen the events of my course and will craft in me the character of His goodness in due time.
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