Life is so full of funny twists and turns. All you have to do is be open and go with the flow and an amazing adventure can unfold before your eyes. As most of you have noticed, I am in a bona fide “relationship” for the first time since my divorce 3 ½ years ago. I can’t tell you what a positive, fun, and genuinely good relationship this has been, so far. I have always believed that good things come to good people. I haven’t always had the proof to go with this belief but I somehow still clung to that ideal like a child clings to their security blanket. Christians call it the principle of reaping and sowing. Hindu’s call it Karma. I call it just plain fair. Life is so seldom fair, though.
This aspect of life really bugs me: The unfairness of it all. I am a lover of evenhandedness. I react badly to partiality, just like a child. I meticulously count out Christmas presents, turns in the front seat and brownies to make sure my kids each get the same amount. I guess it makes me revel in the beauty of justice even more when it actually happens in such an unfair world. Many, many things have been unfair in my life lately. Work has been an insane place to dwell. Corporate America has lost their ever loving minds. The goals set before most of us are un-reachable in this crazy economic atmosphere. They are talking about how production is up in America. That’s because those of us who have jobs go to extraordinary lengths and put up with just about anything to keep our jobs. They pile on incredible amounts of work to those who are still employed and all we can do is say, “Yes sir & Thank you, Ma’am.” It has been absolute war in the trenches to keep my job & succeed at it. It is always wise to keep an eye out for other opportunities, as well. So checking my options in the mean time has become a hobby of mine. What a relief to find that I actually have quite a few. A job is such a valuable thing right now. The prospect of being without one for even one month could be devastating. I feel this full weight on my shoulders as a single Mom.
You just never know, though, what will pop up out of the blue and rescue you from the most stressful situations. At the same time that this professional upheaval has started for the first time in my adult life, I have been flooded with new friends, renewed friendships, family, and more laughter than I have known in years. My life is once again absolutely rich with relationships. Although life seems exceedingly unfair at times, it does have this rhythm that almost has a balance to it. Whenever I feel like I am on the verge of panicking about whatever crisis may be approaching or whatever extra pressure is being added to my shoulders, I have to remind myself to just wait a bit. Breathe for a minute. Something may turn up. It usually does. This one lesson has helped me keep my sanity more than once.
So, I am going to breathe for a minute. See what turns up. Take this one step and then pause to take it all in. You just never know when something wonderful may be hidden inside all that stuff that causes pain. That’s the rhythm I am learning to keep time with in life and I am excited to see what the future holds.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A jumble of extraordinary and excruciating: This is how I know I have lived.
Anyone who has known me for two minutes has seen the many facets of life that bombard me on a daily basis. I have had some excruciating moments in life. Too many, probably, but I have had moments straight out of my best dream, as well. My emotions can vacillate between giddy and terrified within days or even moments, sometimes. If I succeed, I do it big. If I fail, I do it on a grand scale.
Inside my humble life of working my fingers to the bone to make ends meet as a single mother with a stressful career, I sometimes lose myself. I forget that I was created to be extraordinary... by a maker who is nothing short of supernatural. Even when standing on the brink of disaster, I have been reminded of who I am. Sometimes it takes the small people in life to remind you of your importance. When my babies wrap those precious arms around me and tell me how much they love me, I know why I do everything that I do. But sometimes it takes the big people in life to remind you of who you are. I have mingled with some amazing people in my lifetime. To have all the earthly possessions you could ask for and to remain kind, gracious and serving at the same time is nothing short of extraordinary.
If I had the ability to peek inside these extraordinary lives both small and large, I feel certain I would find a struggling soul much like my own. It may be the excruciation of life that forms the extraordinary character necessary to live life fully. It would be too easy to just shut down and miss life altogether. A numb life would hurt much less. So many days I have wanted to give up. Somewhere deep in my soul there is always this nagging hope for the future that just won’t let me go, though. When you go through tragedy time and again, you know that it also comes to an end. You learn to hang on, weather the ride and look for the end of the line. Somehow that sunshine at the end of such a long hard rain seems warmer, brighter and more full of life than you ever remembered before.
I know we have all had a tough 2009. For some of us it has been excruciating. The thing I know about the future is that it can be brighter than we ever imagined. Having had so many dark moments in my own life, I know that the darkness is not the end... just a spring board of sorts. I believe the key to learning to live life fully is embracing it all and accepting the extraordinary excruciation it takes to live life to the fullest. So let’s do that. Let’s do it this year.
Inside my humble life of working my fingers to the bone to make ends meet as a single mother with a stressful career, I sometimes lose myself. I forget that I was created to be extraordinary... by a maker who is nothing short of supernatural. Even when standing on the brink of disaster, I have been reminded of who I am. Sometimes it takes the small people in life to remind you of your importance. When my babies wrap those precious arms around me and tell me how much they love me, I know why I do everything that I do. But sometimes it takes the big people in life to remind you of who you are. I have mingled with some amazing people in my lifetime. To have all the earthly possessions you could ask for and to remain kind, gracious and serving at the same time is nothing short of extraordinary.
If I had the ability to peek inside these extraordinary lives both small and large, I feel certain I would find a struggling soul much like my own. It may be the excruciation of life that forms the extraordinary character necessary to live life fully. It would be too easy to just shut down and miss life altogether. A numb life would hurt much less. So many days I have wanted to give up. Somewhere deep in my soul there is always this nagging hope for the future that just won’t let me go, though. When you go through tragedy time and again, you know that it also comes to an end. You learn to hang on, weather the ride and look for the end of the line. Somehow that sunshine at the end of such a long hard rain seems warmer, brighter and more full of life than you ever remembered before.
I know we have all had a tough 2009. For some of us it has been excruciating. The thing I know about the future is that it can be brighter than we ever imagined. Having had so many dark moments in my own life, I know that the darkness is not the end... just a spring board of sorts. I believe the key to learning to live life fully is embracing it all and accepting the extraordinary excruciation it takes to live life to the fullest. So let’s do that. Let’s do it this year.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
My Christmas Obsession
For whatever reason, I seem to be quite obsessed with Mary this Christmas. I know who the “Reason for the Season” is. Every church billboard heralds the reason, ad nausea. That He came to us at all… I cannot fathom it.
It is Mary, though, who has captured my heart this Christmas. I can see why our Catholic counterparts are so fond of her. She must have been 13 or 14 years old when the angel first came to her.
I remember her. I’ve loved a 13 year old girl who was pregnant, before. She was my client when I was a caseworker. She was scared and confused. She was so grown up but still such a child. So naïve and seemingly astute at the same time. In reality, she had not one clue what she had gotten into. She thought she did, though.
I suppose Mary was the same. She definitely had a child-like faith. But she had the tremendous courage of a woman of God. She had to be scared, there, in Bethlehem. And uncomfortable. I wonder if a midwife came to help her deliver Jesus. If not… then I am even more impressed with Joseph than before.
I was such a wimp during labor and delivery. Demerol and an epidural saved my marriage. I don’t want to even imagine months on a donkey before giving birth in the hay. Fourteen years old. Man.
I wonder, too, if all of their family went to Bethlehem for the census. Maybe her mother was with her. The Bible doesn’t talk about the mother of Mary. I sure do hope her mother was with her.
Just a few obsessive thoughts about Christmas.
It is Mary, though, who has captured my heart this Christmas. I can see why our Catholic counterparts are so fond of her. She must have been 13 or 14 years old when the angel first came to her.
I remember her. I’ve loved a 13 year old girl who was pregnant, before. She was my client when I was a caseworker. She was scared and confused. She was so grown up but still such a child. So naïve and seemingly astute at the same time. In reality, she had not one clue what she had gotten into. She thought she did, though.
I suppose Mary was the same. She definitely had a child-like faith. But she had the tremendous courage of a woman of God. She had to be scared, there, in Bethlehem. And uncomfortable. I wonder if a midwife came to help her deliver Jesus. If not… then I am even more impressed with Joseph than before.
I was such a wimp during labor and delivery. Demerol and an epidural saved my marriage. I don’t want to even imagine months on a donkey before giving birth in the hay. Fourteen years old. Man.
I wonder, too, if all of their family went to Bethlehem for the census. Maybe her mother was with her. The Bible doesn’t talk about the mother of Mary. I sure do hope her mother was with her.
Just a few obsessive thoughts about Christmas.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
The Windfalls of Being an Affirmation Whore
I recently wrote a blog about the pitfalls of being an affirmation whore. It started something like this for those of you who missed it:
"You see… I have called myself an affirmation whore for a very long time. I thrive on applause. I will work hard to get a “good job” from my bosses. I love & become a working girl for doing things right. My morals get on my own dang nerves sometimes! I love to make people laugh. I despise myself when I make them cry or when I piss them off. I like it when other people see and appreciate how hard I try, whether I succeed or not. Is that messed up? Why yes, Sherlock, that is!!! But it is a part of who I am, like it or not."
I went on to extol the detriments of my personality but later realized there are up-sides as well. See... I can be balanced sometimes. Being an affirmation addict is definitely a reciprocal relationship. I love affirming others. I enjoy inspiring people. Causing laughter is an another addiction of mine. Inducing giggles makes me happy. It means something deep and indescribable when I have communicated in a way that touches others. When that happens and I am affirmed in the process... that is what I call a win-win, my friends!
We all love accolades. Who doesn’t want to be told they are good at something? We don’t live for the moments when someone tells us we suck! I think some people are wired to be more social than others. I am an extrovert extraordinaire. Some of my best and closest friends are darn near anti-social anarchists! They make me laugh so hard, though. But most of my friendly friends are outgoing as well. We all weave this tapestry of relationships that makes life so full and beautiful.
So... you feel free to send this affirmation whore all the tricks you want. I’ll be sure to return the favor. Then we can all get our affirmation rocks off, right? And this is the season to do just that! Tis the season to get your affirmation rocks off. I have ruined it forever, huh?
"You see… I have called myself an affirmation whore for a very long time. I thrive on applause. I will work hard to get a “good job” from my bosses. I love & become a working girl for doing things right. My morals get on my own dang nerves sometimes! I love to make people laugh. I despise myself when I make them cry or when I piss them off. I like it when other people see and appreciate how hard I try, whether I succeed or not. Is that messed up? Why yes, Sherlock, that is!!! But it is a part of who I am, like it or not."
I went on to extol the detriments of my personality but later realized there are up-sides as well. See... I can be balanced sometimes. Being an affirmation addict is definitely a reciprocal relationship. I love affirming others. I enjoy inspiring people. Causing laughter is an another addiction of mine. Inducing giggles makes me happy. It means something deep and indescribable when I have communicated in a way that touches others. When that happens and I am affirmed in the process... that is what I call a win-win, my friends!
We all love accolades. Who doesn’t want to be told they are good at something? We don’t live for the moments when someone tells us we suck! I think some people are wired to be more social than others. I am an extrovert extraordinaire. Some of my best and closest friends are darn near anti-social anarchists! They make me laugh so hard, though. But most of my friendly friends are outgoing as well. We all weave this tapestry of relationships that makes life so full and beautiful.
So... you feel free to send this affirmation whore all the tricks you want. I’ll be sure to return the favor. Then we can all get our affirmation rocks off, right? And this is the season to do just that! Tis the season to get your affirmation rocks off. I have ruined it forever, huh?
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
My Plan for Christmas this Year
There is something about home that just heals me. I work hard to call this life my own. The more I work to call it mine, the more I realize how little control I have over any of it. Any one part of my life could spin out of control at any moment, with no effort from me at all, and it would change my landscape forever.
The 20th anniversary of my brother’s funeral is coming up in seven days. I remember the wrenching that replaced “normal life” with “out of control”. I remember the agony, the foolishness, the despair of it all. It seems so far away these days but you never forget. I remember Christmas with presents left under the tree with Claude’s name on them. It seemed disrespectful, somehow, to return them. I remember sitting around with family trying to smile as we opened all the other presents and feeling so hollow. At least he was relieved from living with that awful name for years to come. What was my Mom thinking? I remember us plotting to change his middle name to his familiar calling when he went to college, deciding that Michael was much friendlier than Claude. Unfortunate for our plan, he roomed with buddies from high school, so Claude could not be escaped. But Claude is who he was, to the core.
It is in life’s uncertain moments that you realize what is important. Since that day, I have never gotten off the phone with my parents without saying “I love you.” Apologies between remaining family members began to flow after losing one of our most colorful members. We had all appreciated him more than we ever said. We had to make sure that didn’t happen again. Claude was a swirl of vibrant colors with loud accents. When that is suddenly jerked away, each member has to search for their own colors and notes to strike. We had to figure out who we were without him. My grandmother never did. She died 8 months later from a broken heart, I believe. The fact that she was 88 might have had a little to do with it, admittedly. She grieved, unrelenting, for the rest of her life, though.
There are vivid memories of strength that linger with me from that time as well. These are moments when you realize that meek, submissive personalities are sometimes the backbones of the family. My mother may be one of the kindest, most supportive, giving, submissive & gentle women I have ever known. When I was young her submission to my Dad would infuriate me. When I watched my 6’2”, 250 lb Dad crumple into her arms under the weight of his grief, I realized my Mom had been his rock all along. She is the one who yanked a knot in my tail when I whined that I couldn’t bare to go to the funeral. Oh yes I would. And I did. And I am glad. My Mom had lost a husband just as suddenly and tragically in a plane crash years before she met my Dad, yet she was the one who guided all of us through this awful terrain with a grace that I have never forgotten. That is a strong woman, however submissive she may seem.
This Christmas is bittersweet. Reflecting back on all I have to be thankful for overwhelms me. Experiencing a loss so deep makes the breadth of devotion to what is in the now just so much stronger. All of our lives are so fragile, and precious, and beautiful. Our lives are difficult, and confusing, and sometimes frightening. But we have so much to be thankful for. There is so much life to be lived right now. We can’t miss it by worrying or plotting tomorrow. We just need to show up and soak in the amazing grace of life right here. That is my plan for Christmas this year.
The 20th anniversary of my brother’s funeral is coming up in seven days. I remember the wrenching that replaced “normal life” with “out of control”. I remember the agony, the foolishness, the despair of it all. It seems so far away these days but you never forget. I remember Christmas with presents left under the tree with Claude’s name on them. It seemed disrespectful, somehow, to return them. I remember sitting around with family trying to smile as we opened all the other presents and feeling so hollow. At least he was relieved from living with that awful name for years to come. What was my Mom thinking? I remember us plotting to change his middle name to his familiar calling when he went to college, deciding that Michael was much friendlier than Claude. Unfortunate for our plan, he roomed with buddies from high school, so Claude could not be escaped. But Claude is who he was, to the core.
It is in life’s uncertain moments that you realize what is important. Since that day, I have never gotten off the phone with my parents without saying “I love you.” Apologies between remaining family members began to flow after losing one of our most colorful members. We had all appreciated him more than we ever said. We had to make sure that didn’t happen again. Claude was a swirl of vibrant colors with loud accents. When that is suddenly jerked away, each member has to search for their own colors and notes to strike. We had to figure out who we were without him. My grandmother never did. She died 8 months later from a broken heart, I believe. The fact that she was 88 might have had a little to do with it, admittedly. She grieved, unrelenting, for the rest of her life, though.
There are vivid memories of strength that linger with me from that time as well. These are moments when you realize that meek, submissive personalities are sometimes the backbones of the family. My mother may be one of the kindest, most supportive, giving, submissive & gentle women I have ever known. When I was young her submission to my Dad would infuriate me. When I watched my 6’2”, 250 lb Dad crumple into her arms under the weight of his grief, I realized my Mom had been his rock all along. She is the one who yanked a knot in my tail when I whined that I couldn’t bare to go to the funeral. Oh yes I would. And I did. And I am glad. My Mom had lost a husband just as suddenly and tragically in a plane crash years before she met my Dad, yet she was the one who guided all of us through this awful terrain with a grace that I have never forgotten. That is a strong woman, however submissive she may seem.
This Christmas is bittersweet. Reflecting back on all I have to be thankful for overwhelms me. Experiencing a loss so deep makes the breadth of devotion to what is in the now just so much stronger. All of our lives are so fragile, and precious, and beautiful. Our lives are difficult, and confusing, and sometimes frightening. But we have so much to be thankful for. There is so much life to be lived right now. We can’t miss it by worrying or plotting tomorrow. We just need to show up and soak in the amazing grace of life right here. That is my plan for Christmas this year.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tender Moments
Clearly, this has been a moment in time when I would not willingly choose to walk in this space. It amazes me how I can be so tough and so extraordinarily tender at the same time. I can be so deep and serious and yet so silly and frivolous. Responsible yet irresponsible. I laugh when I should be serious. I am impatient when I should hold my peace. I can crack a joke at just about anything. I can piss almost anyone off given enough time. I am me, through and through, like it or not.
Why then am I blessed despite my faults? No rhyme or reason to the dang thing, honestly. This is grace, my friends. Grace supreme. That’s about it. Nothing I can claim as my own.
When I almost got fired for my smart ass impatience and deep seated frustration with every boss I have… it made me take stock. Perhaps I should settle the heck down. Yes? Yes! I somehow decided that all on my own (after I got a good chewing out). I came home and held my kids tight & thought about what life would be like if I lost my job. I take credit for my wrong doing… but my work place is insane right now. Many have lost their jobs or quit far before me. Dropping like flies they are. That just can’t be me. I would like to feed my kiddos, preferably.
So I talked to my kids and told them we needed to start living as if Mommy doesn’t have a job. Eating at home every night. I cannot pay them for their A’s on their report card anymore (but please still make them). We even devised a plan for Christmas that is money free. We are going to make coupon books for each other with things like “one free foot rub” and “one long candle-lit bubble bath compliments of Mom” written in them. (I tend to horde my hot tub, you see, so this will be a big treat for them!) Then we can choose when & where we will redeem the coupons. They were so excited about that plan. I am too.
My friend Sam said it best: my children are incredibly kind and loving. Either that is another total point of grace or I may be doing something right. I want so badly to be excellent in every area of life but just am not. I am ok in most areas... sometimes. I am the kind of person who would rather not do a thing… than to do it poorly. I choose to place parenting first. This means very little of my life is my own. This makes me feel very alone & isolated at times. This means that when my emotions have reached their limits I lose it at work instead of at home. If being a good parent means I must transfer into a position at work that has less stress & also pays less, then that is what I will do. I really enjoy my position… when my bosses don’t ride me like a friggin mule that is… so it sucks that I must give it up. It sucks that I must live in a place with few dating options so I can keep the kids close to their Dad & I can be close to my aging parents. It sucks that he is re-married and I still trudge on alone. Nothing is fair about life… but it still has its moments.
Yesterday, I worked all day, got supplies for my daughter’s project that was due the next day (and that I only found out about that morning - grrr), cooked them dinner, went to church to practice the song I will sing Sunday, first with the band & then again with the choir. I left the kids working on Morgan’s project together while I ran up to the church for practice. I finally got home around 8pm and they were so proud & excited to show me Morgan’s diorama. They did a great job. I do not know many siblings who get along like they do. Her 10 year old brother spent the entire time helping her. I got my jim jams on, poured my evening toddy, and was ready to flop in the bed when I found my sweet note on the pillow. There was a picture drawn on the front with me cooking their dinner while they worked on the project at the table. It declared itself to be a “Note of Appreciation” at the top. After I wrestled the sparkly twist tie off, it opened up to say “We really appreciate you and how much you have worked lately and we just want you to know that we care!” With a, “P.S. We love you” inside a heart with an arrow through it, my heart was full. It overflowed through my eyes and I knew I was loved. How many 10 & 13 year olds just think to do something like that on their own? I cannot feel sorry for myself when I look into their characters. I am blessed.
Somehow I was still depressed all day today. Depressed but loved. Depressed but thankful. Sad but blessed. I have learned to recognize spiraling when it begins. I know it is important to pay attention to why I feel the way I do but at the same time not to spiral down into an unreasonably sad place. That has been my basic goal today. Besides work, that is. And thus... I blog.
Right now life is a tender place both in good ways & bad. I will take them both because I am not sure I could fully appreciate one without the other. And… either way they will both still be a part of life… so I might as well make the best of it!
Why then am I blessed despite my faults? No rhyme or reason to the dang thing, honestly. This is grace, my friends. Grace supreme. That’s about it. Nothing I can claim as my own.
When I almost got fired for my smart ass impatience and deep seated frustration with every boss I have… it made me take stock. Perhaps I should settle the heck down. Yes? Yes! I somehow decided that all on my own (after I got a good chewing out). I came home and held my kids tight & thought about what life would be like if I lost my job. I take credit for my wrong doing… but my work place is insane right now. Many have lost their jobs or quit far before me. Dropping like flies they are. That just can’t be me. I would like to feed my kiddos, preferably.
So I talked to my kids and told them we needed to start living as if Mommy doesn’t have a job. Eating at home every night. I cannot pay them for their A’s on their report card anymore (but please still make them). We even devised a plan for Christmas that is money free. We are going to make coupon books for each other with things like “one free foot rub” and “one long candle-lit bubble bath compliments of Mom” written in them. (I tend to horde my hot tub, you see, so this will be a big treat for them!) Then we can choose when & where we will redeem the coupons. They were so excited about that plan. I am too.
My friend Sam said it best: my children are incredibly kind and loving. Either that is another total point of grace or I may be doing something right. I want so badly to be excellent in every area of life but just am not. I am ok in most areas... sometimes. I am the kind of person who would rather not do a thing… than to do it poorly. I choose to place parenting first. This means very little of my life is my own. This makes me feel very alone & isolated at times. This means that when my emotions have reached their limits I lose it at work instead of at home. If being a good parent means I must transfer into a position at work that has less stress & also pays less, then that is what I will do. I really enjoy my position… when my bosses don’t ride me like a friggin mule that is… so it sucks that I must give it up. It sucks that I must live in a place with few dating options so I can keep the kids close to their Dad & I can be close to my aging parents. It sucks that he is re-married and I still trudge on alone. Nothing is fair about life… but it still has its moments.
Yesterday, I worked all day, got supplies for my daughter’s project that was due the next day (and that I only found out about that morning - grrr), cooked them dinner, went to church to practice the song I will sing Sunday, first with the band & then again with the choir. I left the kids working on Morgan’s project together while I ran up to the church for practice. I finally got home around 8pm and they were so proud & excited to show me Morgan’s diorama. They did a great job. I do not know many siblings who get along like they do. Her 10 year old brother spent the entire time helping her. I got my jim jams on, poured my evening toddy, and was ready to flop in the bed when I found my sweet note on the pillow. There was a picture drawn on the front with me cooking their dinner while they worked on the project at the table. It declared itself to be a “Note of Appreciation” at the top. After I wrestled the sparkly twist tie off, it opened up to say “We really appreciate you and how much you have worked lately and we just want you to know that we care!” With a, “P.S. We love you” inside a heart with an arrow through it, my heart was full. It overflowed through my eyes and I knew I was loved. How many 10 & 13 year olds just think to do something like that on their own? I cannot feel sorry for myself when I look into their characters. I am blessed.
Somehow I was still depressed all day today. Depressed but loved. Depressed but thankful. Sad but blessed. I have learned to recognize spiraling when it begins. I know it is important to pay attention to why I feel the way I do but at the same time not to spiral down into an unreasonably sad place. That has been my basic goal today. Besides work, that is. And thus... I blog.
Right now life is a tender place both in good ways & bad. I will take them both because I am not sure I could fully appreciate one without the other. And… either way they will both still be a part of life… so I might as well make the best of it!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
A Life Unbalanced
I have known for some time that my life was getting out of hand. When I get up at 5am and then am up until Midnight 3 – 4 nights a week trying to finish my work, it is only a matter of time before something has to give. One person was never meant to do everything I am doing alone. I cannot get caught up in the unfairness of life or it would bury me. It would be true to say that life is royally unfair at times & quite harsh. It would also be true to say that I am not handling this pressure well and something has to give.
I was talking to a co-worker a few weeks ago about the pressure at work. She quit her job the very next week because it got to be too much. She had gotten so stressed out that she screamed at her daughter for the first time in her life. She decided it wasn’t worth it. She had a husband who supported her decision to quit & whose income could hold them until she found something else.
Feeling trapped is a tough place to be. I have no one to take up my slack if I fail. I have a lot of people to disappoint. I have loved my job for nearly 5 years. I have advanced quickly & been paid well. I have been well respected and sought after as a contributor to many projects. Then something changed. I am not sure if it was me or the economy or my company or a combination of all the above. But something changed. I have felt abused, disrespected & jerked around for the last 6 months. I am un-able to change the direction things are going. I am trapped. I am not the kind to come home & yell at my children. I snap at work instead, which is very detrimental to my working relationships… and my very livelihood. We all have our snapping points & I have evidently reached mine. If something doesn’t give, it may be sorted out for me… and to a potentially devastating end.
I am afraid.
I have been reminded this week of how important every action is. One irresponsible act can change your life indelibly. Time can repair some of the damage but it cannot change what has been done. For weeks, I have been prayerfully wondering if I could keep pace with the re-structuring that has happened at work. I have been wondering if I want to. Traveling overnight 2 – 3 days / week is just not functional for a single mother. The overwhelming tasks of attempting to be prepared for work & making sleeping arrangements for children, packing bags, delivering guitars & writing out after-school schedules for those helping me with the kids and then organizing myself to be effective at work while traveling… well it is just too much. I have known it for some time. But what to do? All I can do is keep trying. This is no economy to be looking at switching professions. I just bought this house I want to be “home” to my kids and I have plenty of bills & responsibilities to go with. I have never been a fearful person but I am afraid, almost frozen with fear at what could happen if I can’t handle this.
What I need to focus on right now are my options. There are always options. I need clarity on what those are and how to navigate them. I need to decide on a direction and walk that way confidently. I know we all have turning point moments in life. This is one for me & I must face it all alone. No one can make these decisions for me. So I will. I must. And I will walk on & thrive, despite it all. I'm just stubborn like that. ;)
I was talking to a co-worker a few weeks ago about the pressure at work. She quit her job the very next week because it got to be too much. She had gotten so stressed out that she screamed at her daughter for the first time in her life. She decided it wasn’t worth it. She had a husband who supported her decision to quit & whose income could hold them until she found something else.
Feeling trapped is a tough place to be. I have no one to take up my slack if I fail. I have a lot of people to disappoint. I have loved my job for nearly 5 years. I have advanced quickly & been paid well. I have been well respected and sought after as a contributor to many projects. Then something changed. I am not sure if it was me or the economy or my company or a combination of all the above. But something changed. I have felt abused, disrespected & jerked around for the last 6 months. I am un-able to change the direction things are going. I am trapped. I am not the kind to come home & yell at my children. I snap at work instead, which is very detrimental to my working relationships… and my very livelihood. We all have our snapping points & I have evidently reached mine. If something doesn’t give, it may be sorted out for me… and to a potentially devastating end.
I am afraid.
I have been reminded this week of how important every action is. One irresponsible act can change your life indelibly. Time can repair some of the damage but it cannot change what has been done. For weeks, I have been prayerfully wondering if I could keep pace with the re-structuring that has happened at work. I have been wondering if I want to. Traveling overnight 2 – 3 days / week is just not functional for a single mother. The overwhelming tasks of attempting to be prepared for work & making sleeping arrangements for children, packing bags, delivering guitars & writing out after-school schedules for those helping me with the kids and then organizing myself to be effective at work while traveling… well it is just too much. I have known it for some time. But what to do? All I can do is keep trying. This is no economy to be looking at switching professions. I just bought this house I want to be “home” to my kids and I have plenty of bills & responsibilities to go with. I have never been a fearful person but I am afraid, almost frozen with fear at what could happen if I can’t handle this.
What I need to focus on right now are my options. There are always options. I need clarity on what those are and how to navigate them. I need to decide on a direction and walk that way confidently. I know we all have turning point moments in life. This is one for me & I must face it all alone. No one can make these decisions for me. So I will. I must. And I will walk on & thrive, despite it all. I'm just stubborn like that. ;)
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The pitfalls of being an affirmation whore…
You see… I have called myself an affirmation whore for a very long time. I thrive on applause. I will work hard to get a “good job” from my bosses. I love & become a working girl for doing things right. My morals get on my own dang nerves sometimes! I love to make people laugh. I despise myself when I make them cry or when I piss them off. I like it when other people see and appreciate how hard I try, whether I succeed or not. Is that messed up? Why yes, Sherlock, that is!!! But it is a part of who I am, like it or not.
So… what does an affirmation whore do when there are no tricks to be had? When my kids are mad at me because I work too much? When work is mad at me because I don’t produce enough? When my church is mad at me because I don’t go to Sunday school? When I don’t have time to spend with my date? When I neglect my friends because… well… all the above!!! What the crap does an affirmation whore do???
At that point, most pimps push drugs on their subjects to make life more bearable. Wow… look at that drink in my hand. Am I pimping myself out to this life? That would be a revelation I did NOT need!
Getting less funny now.
Or pimps beat the crap out of their whores to get them back in line so they will get back to work. Yes, I was in casework for 7 years. I know. Do I beat myself up? Often. Is that OK… um… NO!
This analogy is funny until it gets real.
So where is an affirmation whore to go? There is no way I could ever think myself out of this funk. This is beyond me, ok? When I get to the end of me… I must look up. At that point, affirmation be damned. I just need to do & know what is right. Then I can walk on. WALK ON! No tricks necessary. Once my knower is sure… I will wait for the “well done” that is coming. Call it delayed gratification. I can handle that.
Do I know that there is some amazing higher being to catch me when I royally screw things up? Yeppers. I know this. Do I believe His name is Jesus Christ? Why yes, Sherlock, I do! Do I realize that a lot of this life is spent in speculation about what is in the after life? Yessir. Always has been. Check some Egyptian & Mayan ruins. We all know this deep inside but can’t quite figure the dang thing and ALWAYS screw it up. Something is up with that and it needs more investigation. Just like science is a sport of speculation… I believe God is worth investigating. So I am gonna keep digging.
Can an affirmation whore find God in this messed up world? Yep. Been there. Done that. I just need to see a glimpse again for a sec & I will be all good.
So… what does an affirmation whore do when there are no tricks to be had? When my kids are mad at me because I work too much? When work is mad at me because I don’t produce enough? When my church is mad at me because I don’t go to Sunday school? When I don’t have time to spend with my date? When I neglect my friends because… well… all the above!!! What the crap does an affirmation whore do???
At that point, most pimps push drugs on their subjects to make life more bearable. Wow… look at that drink in my hand. Am I pimping myself out to this life? That would be a revelation I did NOT need!
Getting less funny now.
Or pimps beat the crap out of their whores to get them back in line so they will get back to work. Yes, I was in casework for 7 years. I know. Do I beat myself up? Often. Is that OK… um… NO!
This analogy is funny until it gets real.
So where is an affirmation whore to go? There is no way I could ever think myself out of this funk. This is beyond me, ok? When I get to the end of me… I must look up. At that point, affirmation be damned. I just need to do & know what is right. Then I can walk on. WALK ON! No tricks necessary. Once my knower is sure… I will wait for the “well done” that is coming. Call it delayed gratification. I can handle that.
Do I know that there is some amazing higher being to catch me when I royally screw things up? Yeppers. I know this. Do I believe His name is Jesus Christ? Why yes, Sherlock, I do! Do I realize that a lot of this life is spent in speculation about what is in the after life? Yessir. Always has been. Check some Egyptian & Mayan ruins. We all know this deep inside but can’t quite figure the dang thing and ALWAYS screw it up. Something is up with that and it needs more investigation. Just like science is a sport of speculation… I believe God is worth investigating. So I am gonna keep digging.
Can an affirmation whore find God in this messed up world? Yep. Been there. Done that. I just need to see a glimpse again for a sec & I will be all good.
Monday, August 31, 2009
All I can do is try...
I’m kinda sad tonight. I just look all around me & get sad at how many people are so “done” with church. The truth is… I have a hard time making sense of it all and don’t often blame them & sometimes wish I could just walk away too. After 14 years of being unhappily married to a minister & going through tremendous years of church deceit and corruption… over & over… having it done to me personally & seeing it externally… at every level of church involvement… I cannot say that many people in my shoes would still be attending church either. Two of my best friends, who I met in church, really don’t believe anymore. Neither attend. Well, one of them gets paid to attend as a musician. So it is a job. They have been pushed away enough to either just not care or to try to think God out of existence. I just have to wonder what would have happened to their faith if Christians had just acted like they should have in the first place. But that never happens, does it?
Sometimes I feel my own Christianity has become something of a lame duck. My life is a messy place spiritually. I just survive from day to day and soak in the moments of joy that come my way. I don’t pretend to be Holy cause there ain’t no hiding this hot mess. I genuinely am not sure that church is a safe place for people who are hurting & looking for God in His truest form but there are few other options out there. I have trouble finding Him in the rituals & traditions. I get bored with the adherence to old ways. I have found God to be true and real in my life too many times to ever lose faith completely… but I have a family history that supports the good consequences of living a godly life. So I have more evidence, personally, that it works. My parents have just been genuinely good people who love God. Their life together is simple & beautiful to me. There are genuinely good people who live lives of compassion and kindness yet have no relationship to God at all… and their lives are beautiful as well. It can all get confusing.
I just know that I believe. I believe that Christianity is a way of life I can never leave. It is about being kind. Loving others. Serving others. Caring for the hurting. Trying every day to be a better person than I was the day before. Learning from my mistakes & moving forward with life. I will never be in ministry again, most likely, because my lifestyle is a bit of a mess. I don’t want to try to be something I am not… but even in the middle of my messy life I know that God is real. I know He can be found in here somewhere because I know He is here. It’s all confusing but somehow I just know. It’s not a question. I may not be able to figure every detail out… but I know Him. He knows me. That’s all I need to know in the end.
The rest I have to trust to God. It makes me sad to see my friends hurt or endlessly searching for something that makes sense in a very confusing, often times corrupt church landscape. I cannot make it better though. All I can do is live in my little piece of this life & love them as they live out theirs. It’s my job to let God be God & humans be human and not confuse the two. It's my job to love no matter what. So I will try. I will try.
Sometimes I feel my own Christianity has become something of a lame duck. My life is a messy place spiritually. I just survive from day to day and soak in the moments of joy that come my way. I don’t pretend to be Holy cause there ain’t no hiding this hot mess. I genuinely am not sure that church is a safe place for people who are hurting & looking for God in His truest form but there are few other options out there. I have trouble finding Him in the rituals & traditions. I get bored with the adherence to old ways. I have found God to be true and real in my life too many times to ever lose faith completely… but I have a family history that supports the good consequences of living a godly life. So I have more evidence, personally, that it works. My parents have just been genuinely good people who love God. Their life together is simple & beautiful to me. There are genuinely good people who live lives of compassion and kindness yet have no relationship to God at all… and their lives are beautiful as well. It can all get confusing.
I just know that I believe. I believe that Christianity is a way of life I can never leave. It is about being kind. Loving others. Serving others. Caring for the hurting. Trying every day to be a better person than I was the day before. Learning from my mistakes & moving forward with life. I will never be in ministry again, most likely, because my lifestyle is a bit of a mess. I don’t want to try to be something I am not… but even in the middle of my messy life I know that God is real. I know He can be found in here somewhere because I know He is here. It’s all confusing but somehow I just know. It’s not a question. I may not be able to figure every detail out… but I know Him. He knows me. That’s all I need to know in the end.
The rest I have to trust to God. It makes me sad to see my friends hurt or endlessly searching for something that makes sense in a very confusing, often times corrupt church landscape. I cannot make it better though. All I can do is live in my little piece of this life & love them as they live out theirs. It’s my job to let God be God & humans be human and not confuse the two. It's my job to love no matter what. So I will try. I will try.
Friday, August 28, 2009
I'm too sexy for my mower... to sexy for my mow - er - bay - bee - yeah!
So... if you haven't noticed... my life is hectic. I am here. I am there. I am nowhere... all at one time. I love the fullness of my life. I am so glad I have all this meaningful stuff happening to me. But mowing my lawn on Friday night from 7 - 8:30pm is not so sexy. So I am riding in circles thinking, " I am too sexy for this mower." Think positive, right? My neighbors know exactly how UN-sexy I was. I hope they don't tell.
I honestly didn't think I had enough gas. I have bitten off a little more life than I think I can chew sometimes. I checked the little red gas can I have & it had a little gas in the bottom. Dang it. If it had been empty I woulda said, "Oh... it can wait until tomorrow." But NOOOOOO. I had to fill the tank & see if I could make it through the whole yard. But not before I had cooked dinner & swam with the kids.
You see... I thought I would get off work early tonight because I had worked so hard all week long. But, because of random circumstances I ended up working until 6:45pm on Friday night on various random things that came up in the Environmental Management world... as I was trying to cook a fab dinner for myself & the kids.
You see... I am generally a scallop purist. I love scallops with just garlic, salt, pepper & butter... seared to perfection on each side. But I read this crazy recipe the other day with Ritz Crackers as a coating and Olive Oil. It sounded just weird enough to be yummy & I wanted to have some of that. So I tried to sneak to the grocery store today in my frumpy clothes, no make-up & un-washed hair... to get my supplies & got busted by one of the most gorgeous friends I have (you Gaye) and then all hell broke loose with work. At one point our VP was emailing me pissed off. It was about 6pm by then. My scallops were coated & searing beautifully. I managed to appease my VP while searing my scallops to perfection, preparing lemon-garlic angel hair pasta & serving everything to the family. My kids actually ate it!!! YUM-EEE! So we swam after that & it was time to mow.
When I look at my yard... I realize I need a man. I do try to manage it. It overwhelms me though. The previous owners were yard people. I bought the house for the beautiful back yard with the pool in it. The house itself is a little awkward. The rooms are shaped weird & they have an unfortunate sort of country vibe. But you can see the potential, ya know? But now something has gone wrong in the back yard. There is an odor I cannot pin down. It is unpleasant. It may be the Coi pond I cannot maintain... or the weeds I cannot maintain... or the water tower next door... or a rodent that has deceased under the deck... I just don't know. But it is going to take alot of energy to eliminate it, whatever it is. So... I mowed instead.
I can ride in circles in my UN-sexy way & pretend the rest doesn't exist. Until tomorrow.
I will hunt down & eliminate the odor if at all possible... tomorrow.
I am definitely TOO sexy for all of this. RIGHT?
Ugh. G'Night!
I honestly didn't think I had enough gas. I have bitten off a little more life than I think I can chew sometimes. I checked the little red gas can I have & it had a little gas in the bottom. Dang it. If it had been empty I woulda said, "Oh... it can wait until tomorrow." But NOOOOOO. I had to fill the tank & see if I could make it through the whole yard. But not before I had cooked dinner & swam with the kids.
You see... I thought I would get off work early tonight because I had worked so hard all week long. But, because of random circumstances I ended up working until 6:45pm on Friday night on various random things that came up in the Environmental Management world... as I was trying to cook a fab dinner for myself & the kids.
You see... I am generally a scallop purist. I love scallops with just garlic, salt, pepper & butter... seared to perfection on each side. But I read this crazy recipe the other day with Ritz Crackers as a coating and Olive Oil. It sounded just weird enough to be yummy & I wanted to have some of that. So I tried to sneak to the grocery store today in my frumpy clothes, no make-up & un-washed hair... to get my supplies & got busted by one of the most gorgeous friends I have (you Gaye) and then all hell broke loose with work. At one point our VP was emailing me pissed off. It was about 6pm by then. My scallops were coated & searing beautifully. I managed to appease my VP while searing my scallops to perfection, preparing lemon-garlic angel hair pasta & serving everything to the family. My kids actually ate it!!! YUM-EEE! So we swam after that & it was time to mow.
When I look at my yard... I realize I need a man. I do try to manage it. It overwhelms me though. The previous owners were yard people. I bought the house for the beautiful back yard with the pool in it. The house itself is a little awkward. The rooms are shaped weird & they have an unfortunate sort of country vibe. But you can see the potential, ya know? But now something has gone wrong in the back yard. There is an odor I cannot pin down. It is unpleasant. It may be the Coi pond I cannot maintain... or the weeds I cannot maintain... or the water tower next door... or a rodent that has deceased under the deck... I just don't know. But it is going to take alot of energy to eliminate it, whatever it is. So... I mowed instead.
I can ride in circles in my UN-sexy way & pretend the rest doesn't exist. Until tomorrow.
I will hunt down & eliminate the odor if at all possible... tomorrow.
I am definitely TOO sexy for all of this. RIGHT?
Ugh. G'Night!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
A blog has been brewing...
I think this blog started brewing when my daughter found out I would be 39 this year. She said to me, in a very distressed tone, “Oh NO Mom! That means you only have one more year to find a man!”
Gulp.
Of course, being the humorist that I am… and seeing a HUGE opportunity to play this up… I said, “What? Ah! Morgan!!!” So she does what most people do when they have inserted foot in mouth. They make it worse. Morgan goes on this long rambling explanation of how, you know, 30 year old men like women in their 30’s… & 40 year old men like women in their 30’s… & 50 year old men like women in their 30’s. Not helping, Morgan. I finally just said to her, “Hey baby… I am HOT for 39 and don’t you forget it!” She giggled herself into silence, thankfully. GEESH!
So this got me to thinking… I could have a lot to be depressed about if I weren’t just so darn happy. I mean… I am still single at 39 after 3 years of divorce. I’m fatter than I have ever been. (Well, since giving birth to a 9lb 9oz baby boy, that is) I vacillate wildly between liking my job OK and loathing it deeply. The stress in this economy is un-imaginable. It does pay the bills though. And well. Because of our divorce arrangement I carry 99.9% of all of the responsibility with my kids financially, spiritually & mentally. It would be easy to become bitter.
But I just can’t. Life is too sweet.
I remember when I was about 32. I kept saying to most people who were close to me, “I feel like I am 50!” I was always so tired & exhausted. Tired & exhausted… redundant, maybe. But I was worn slap out from life. Not anymore. I feel like I am 29, not 39. I am proud of my life. I am providing a great childhood for my kids. They are happy, sweet kids. I am being a good daughter to my aging parents. This life sure ain’t perfect, but it is ours. I love my home (which I bought on my dang own might I add). I love my friends. I am so blessed.
So, I have made a 39th birthday resolution! I am gonna live my life, as much as possible, with NO regrets from here on out. I am gonna write that book everyone keeps encouraging me to write. I am gonna kick butt at work. I am gonna love my parents so much that they have a smile on their faces when they greet St. Peter one day. I am gonna look better at 40 than I have in years! I am gonna raise incredible, successful kids. And if a man happens to find ME this year before I turn 40… lucky him! (She says with tongue in cheek & twinkle in eye)
Life in the skin of a single, middle aged mother is a constant battle of self-esteem. I either think I am awesome & can conquer the world or feel I can do nothing right. The truth is somewhere in between and that is where I want to live. This year & every year from here on out I want to embrace all of it! So 39… BRING IT!
Gulp.
Of course, being the humorist that I am… and seeing a HUGE opportunity to play this up… I said, “What? Ah! Morgan!!!” So she does what most people do when they have inserted foot in mouth. They make it worse. Morgan goes on this long rambling explanation of how, you know, 30 year old men like women in their 30’s… & 40 year old men like women in their 30’s… & 50 year old men like women in their 30’s. Not helping, Morgan. I finally just said to her, “Hey baby… I am HOT for 39 and don’t you forget it!” She giggled herself into silence, thankfully. GEESH!
So this got me to thinking… I could have a lot to be depressed about if I weren’t just so darn happy. I mean… I am still single at 39 after 3 years of divorce. I’m fatter than I have ever been. (Well, since giving birth to a 9lb 9oz baby boy, that is) I vacillate wildly between liking my job OK and loathing it deeply. The stress in this economy is un-imaginable. It does pay the bills though. And well. Because of our divorce arrangement I carry 99.9% of all of the responsibility with my kids financially, spiritually & mentally. It would be easy to become bitter.
But I just can’t. Life is too sweet.
I remember when I was about 32. I kept saying to most people who were close to me, “I feel like I am 50!” I was always so tired & exhausted. Tired & exhausted… redundant, maybe. But I was worn slap out from life. Not anymore. I feel like I am 29, not 39. I am proud of my life. I am providing a great childhood for my kids. They are happy, sweet kids. I am being a good daughter to my aging parents. This life sure ain’t perfect, but it is ours. I love my home (which I bought on my dang own might I add). I love my friends. I am so blessed.
So, I have made a 39th birthday resolution! I am gonna live my life, as much as possible, with NO regrets from here on out. I am gonna write that book everyone keeps encouraging me to write. I am gonna kick butt at work. I am gonna love my parents so much that they have a smile on their faces when they greet St. Peter one day. I am gonna look better at 40 than I have in years! I am gonna raise incredible, successful kids. And if a man happens to find ME this year before I turn 40… lucky him! (She says with tongue in cheek & twinkle in eye)
Life in the skin of a single, middle aged mother is a constant battle of self-esteem. I either think I am awesome & can conquer the world or feel I can do nothing right. The truth is somewhere in between and that is where I want to live. This year & every year from here on out I want to embrace all of it! So 39… BRING IT!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
So you felt this one coming, yes?
So I go down to my Gate C40. They tell me my Gate has been re-assigned it C36. I walk to C36 and it says Fort Walton Beach. I co-miserate while I am standing in line with two Pentacostal women, a French woman and a Lesbian that all want to get to Tallahassee, also. We finally find out all flights have been delayed. Ours will leave at 6:02, hopefully.
I walk back to my restaurant & it is filled completely. I eye the guy who is sitting in my old seat. Jerk.
I walk down a ways looking for plugs for my computer. They are all located by the little black trash compactors. The smell is lovely while I type...
Can you imagine that this entire airport is filled with people who feel just like I do?
My random thoughts as I sit here:
Men - stop with the toupe' addiction. Just say no. Accept the weird shape of your head & go with it. Sorry. I know it's not fair. Neither is PMS but we deal.
Women - NO squatters. Never squat. If you do... wipe the seat. You know you miss. Alot. I am a sitter. I carefully arrange toilet paper after I wipe up the remains of all you nasty, rude squatters. I carry Germ-X with me. Please - stop squatting.
I walk back to my restaurant & it is filled completely. I eye the guy who is sitting in my old seat. Jerk.
I walk down a ways looking for plugs for my computer. They are all located by the little black trash compactors. The smell is lovely while I type...
Can you imagine that this entire airport is filled with people who feel just like I do?
My random thoughts as I sit here:
Men - stop with the toupe' addiction. Just say no. Accept the weird shape of your head & go with it. Sorry. I know it's not fair. Neither is PMS but we deal.
Women - NO squatters. Never squat. If you do... wipe the seat. You know you miss. Alot. I am a sitter. I carefully arrange toilet paper after I wipe up the remains of all you nasty, rude squatters. I carry Germ-X with me. Please - stop squatting.
OMG - Right???
So I make my 10:20 flight and get into ATL… my least favorite hub of all time. I have to shuttle over from Concord A to Concord D. Down the escalator, into the shuttle, back up the escalator. Hate this spread out place. And I go to my gate to get my boarding pass. She tells me the flight at 2:52 has been cancelled. Grrrrrr. Breathe deep Alicia.I politely & with resign reply, “That seems to be my luck today.” She types for what seems like 5 minutes and I finally say, “Well, as long as I get to Tallahassee tonight, that is all that matters.” More typing… and typing… and typing. “Do you have anything for later,” I inquire. She looks up at me and says, with all the attitude of Weezie Jefferson, “Do you think all this tapping on this key board means I am counting sheep? I am workin’ on it.”
OMFrigginG. Now I feel like Fred Samson! “Jesus! Help me!”
I just stared at her with my laser death ray. I spoke soothing words to myself inside my head. This is no ordinary schizophrenia. Are they TRYING to provoke an out of body episode with me??? I finally say, very calmly for my mood might I add, “Customer service is dead in this industry.” Oooooooh… but I am thinking much worse. She gives me a stand-by ticket for 4:36 and a confirmed seat for 6:05 if that one doesn’t pan out. That gate is on Concord C. Down the escalator, into the shuttle, back up the escalator and into the nearest Paschal’s for a large & continuous glass of wine. Couldn’t help thinking of Jesus’ first miracle. Those barrels never ran dry. A girl can hope, right???
Waxing spiritual just once more… this is proof positive that the old spiritual cliché that says, “What’s in your heart comes out through your mouth” is absolutely untrue. It would have been a scene from Kill Bill if that were true.
OMFrigginG. Now I feel like Fred Samson! “Jesus! Help me!”
I just stared at her with my laser death ray. I spoke soothing words to myself inside my head. This is no ordinary schizophrenia. Are they TRYING to provoke an out of body episode with me??? I finally say, very calmly for my mood might I add, “Customer service is dead in this industry.” Oooooooh… but I am thinking much worse. She gives me a stand-by ticket for 4:36 and a confirmed seat for 6:05 if that one doesn’t pan out. That gate is on Concord C. Down the escalator, into the shuttle, back up the escalator and into the nearest Paschal’s for a large & continuous glass of wine. Couldn’t help thinking of Jesus’ first miracle. Those barrels never ran dry. A girl can hope, right???
Waxing spiritual just once more… this is proof positive that the old spiritual cliché that says, “What’s in your heart comes out through your mouth” is absolutely untrue. It would have been a scene from Kill Bill if that were true.
Introducing road rage – in the air
I have been lucky with flights in my 4 years of having a “traveling” corporate career. The only other time I have ever missed a flight was completely my fault. Even then, if it hadn’t been for a merciless 20 year old supervisor, I could have easily made my flight. But I definitely was 5 minutes late to check in at the tiny TLH airport that takes 10 minutes to navigate, security and all… so I accepted my responsibility in it. I did tell the supervisor that if she were 10 years older she would have had mercy on me. What comes around goes around sweetie. She will regret me one day. ;)
But this morning was another story. So here I sit doing blog therapy instead of throwing the hissy fit I have bottled up inside. I arrive an hour and a half before my 8:50 am flight. Usually ample time to navigate with carry on bags. I go to the first kiosk to pick up my boarding pass, which usually eliminates standing in line, and it keeps telling me it cannot find my reservation. I ask an attendant and she asks me for a confirmation #. I can only find an itinerary #. So she asks me to go stand in the first class line. It is three stretchy bands long. I stand in line & start scrolling through my blackberry email looking for the confirmation #. I get ½ way through the line when I find it! Gleeful I get out of line & head back to the kiosk with my hope running high. Still nada. I ask another attendant and she tries to do what I just did with the same result. She asks me to go stand in the first class line, which is now 4 stretchy bands long. The lady at the entry to the first class line barks at each person who passes, “Are you first class??” I did not say what I was thinking. 40 minutes later I am at the desk. Even with my itinerary # & confirmation # Delta does not have my boarding pass in the system. She prints me a ticket anyway & I explain to her that at this point I need to reschedule the whole trip because I will never make it through the Detroit security line & to my flight in 45 minutes. She insists I can - 3 times - as I was insistent that I couldn’t, and she sends me off, much disgruntled, to stand in the security line.
Let me preface this next section with this: I am happy to be safe. Safety can be obtained with courtesy, however.
So I stand in line for 30 minutes. During my stay at the TSA Inn, I visit with a sweet little elderly couple who are headed to San Francisco. They suggest I explain my plight to the TSA officer and ask if I could get in the first class line to speed my progress. I won’t even tell you how that went… but I will confess that a near road rage venom was induced into my blood. I knew better. Mercy & courtesy has no place with airport staff anymore. I should have kept my head low & stood in line with the other cattle, awaiting my turn to be prodded. The poor little couple who had suggested it were shocked at his attitude and demeanor toward me. They clearly do not fly often. I told them that customer service is dead in the airlines today. The little man said “Evidently so.”
And then I felt it. The special warm sensation that announces the untimely arrival of our monthly visitor. If only once, just once, a man could experience this joy, while trapped in a line 30 minutes long, they would never again complain about our moodiness & cranky dispositions. No wonder I was having murderous thoughts, even if I was containing my actions. Hormones stink.
Luckily, I am a pro at getting through security quickly, knowing exactly what & where to disrobe & how & in what order to shuffle things into separate little bins as needed. Jewelry, 3 oz liquids in a plastic ziplock & pocket book in one bin. Laptop in one. Shoes lying flat in another. Shoes must now be in a bin alone. That is a recent change. I learned long ago to wear no belt and don flip flops. Just makes airport life easier. By the time I breeze through the metal detector it is 8:40. My gate is not too far. I RUN in a last futile flight of desperate desire to NOT be in the airport all day, only to be dashed at the gate. A closed door at the gate is never a good sign. I stood staring at the door thinking some retail therapy might feel REALLY good right now if it involved really expensive high heels. And someone elses money. Not even that thought could soothe me. The attendant at the gate was a dead pan figure. That was probably a good thing. He had just been given the honorary position of therapist to Alicia New. Hormones raging, I unloaded to him thoroughly. Not at him, but to him. Well, everything except the “special” visitor part. He smiled and told me he could help me in a minute. I made a much needed trip to the restroom, picked up a Mountain Dew & when I returned he was ready to assist. The next flight is 10:20 am. I am on stand-by. He said the trick would be getting me on that flight. Oh joy. I may blog again at 10:25 if I don’t make it.
But this morning was another story. So here I sit doing blog therapy instead of throwing the hissy fit I have bottled up inside. I arrive an hour and a half before my 8:50 am flight. Usually ample time to navigate with carry on bags. I go to the first kiosk to pick up my boarding pass, which usually eliminates standing in line, and it keeps telling me it cannot find my reservation. I ask an attendant and she asks me for a confirmation #. I can only find an itinerary #. So she asks me to go stand in the first class line. It is three stretchy bands long. I stand in line & start scrolling through my blackberry email looking for the confirmation #. I get ½ way through the line when I find it! Gleeful I get out of line & head back to the kiosk with my hope running high. Still nada. I ask another attendant and she tries to do what I just did with the same result. She asks me to go stand in the first class line, which is now 4 stretchy bands long. The lady at the entry to the first class line barks at each person who passes, “Are you first class??” I did not say what I was thinking. 40 minutes later I am at the desk. Even with my itinerary # & confirmation # Delta does not have my boarding pass in the system. She prints me a ticket anyway & I explain to her that at this point I need to reschedule the whole trip because I will never make it through the Detroit security line & to my flight in 45 minutes. She insists I can - 3 times - as I was insistent that I couldn’t, and she sends me off, much disgruntled, to stand in the security line.
Let me preface this next section with this: I am happy to be safe. Safety can be obtained with courtesy, however.
So I stand in line for 30 minutes. During my stay at the TSA Inn, I visit with a sweet little elderly couple who are headed to San Francisco. They suggest I explain my plight to the TSA officer and ask if I could get in the first class line to speed my progress. I won’t even tell you how that went… but I will confess that a near road rage venom was induced into my blood. I knew better. Mercy & courtesy has no place with airport staff anymore. I should have kept my head low & stood in line with the other cattle, awaiting my turn to be prodded. The poor little couple who had suggested it were shocked at his attitude and demeanor toward me. They clearly do not fly often. I told them that customer service is dead in the airlines today. The little man said “Evidently so.”
And then I felt it. The special warm sensation that announces the untimely arrival of our monthly visitor. If only once, just once, a man could experience this joy, while trapped in a line 30 minutes long, they would never again complain about our moodiness & cranky dispositions. No wonder I was having murderous thoughts, even if I was containing my actions. Hormones stink.
Luckily, I am a pro at getting through security quickly, knowing exactly what & where to disrobe & how & in what order to shuffle things into separate little bins as needed. Jewelry, 3 oz liquids in a plastic ziplock & pocket book in one bin. Laptop in one. Shoes lying flat in another. Shoes must now be in a bin alone. That is a recent change. I learned long ago to wear no belt and don flip flops. Just makes airport life easier. By the time I breeze through the metal detector it is 8:40. My gate is not too far. I RUN in a last futile flight of desperate desire to NOT be in the airport all day, only to be dashed at the gate. A closed door at the gate is never a good sign. I stood staring at the door thinking some retail therapy might feel REALLY good right now if it involved really expensive high heels. And someone elses money. Not even that thought could soothe me. The attendant at the gate was a dead pan figure. That was probably a good thing. He had just been given the honorary position of therapist to Alicia New. Hormones raging, I unloaded to him thoroughly. Not at him, but to him. Well, everything except the “special” visitor part. He smiled and told me he could help me in a minute. I made a much needed trip to the restroom, picked up a Mountain Dew & when I returned he was ready to assist. The next flight is 10:20 am. I am on stand-by. He said the trick would be getting me on that flight. Oh joy. I may blog again at 10:25 if I don’t make it.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
My Missions Blog, Part III
The next day is sort of a free day. We can choose what we want to do during the morning. I asked the camp directors if there was some project that I could tackle for them personally. I know people come all the time to repair things for the camp but I wanted to do something for them & not just the camp. Low and behold if they didn’t come up with a doosie of a job for me. Well, I came to serve didn’t I?? The director has this work shop that lays bare the fact that organization is not his gifting and hasn’t been for the last 30 years. They asked me to tackle it & organize what I could. So I picked one little area & started wading through. I have never seen such in my life. My first goal was to just pick up the trash. They evidently have an affinity for Micky Dee’s, Taco Bell, and Wendy’s. I threw away probably 30 wrappers that had just been tossed on the floor. I organized fishing lure, rat poison, random tools & etc. I had to call on the men sometimes to define for me what a thing was so I could file it properly. After 3 hours of working there was one small shelf that was dust free and organized… out of an entire shed that was probably 1200 square feet. I was so proud of it though and boasted gleefully during lunch about what I had found & where I had put it.
We ate lunch, cleaned up a bit & then went off to hunt for Amish. This is Amish country and we intended to spy some. We took two separate vehicles because if you come on a bus they consider you a tourist group & won’t let you come into their shops. No one likes to be gauked at, I suppose. So we rambled around the hills of Western New York in search of horse drawn buggies & the like. We found various little shops for iron working, crafts, & toys. The man at the iron working shop had 7 children under the age of 9 and I felt like I was trapped in an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Except perhaps somewhere in a Dutch colony. Crazy accents. Of course our kids had to stop at the toy store. I had a blast there too. These Amish were definitely used to talking to the public & hammed it up with the kids, showing them how to use various toys & puzzles. They randomly accused all adults of being cheap & tried to guilt us into buying more toys for our poor neglected children. Who can get mad at a fair faced Amish lady, even when she calls you cheap? I bought a thing called a “stool sample” for my 83 year old Daddy. It is a tiny wooden foot stool in a film canister. The kids played with Amish hand cuffs and put their quarters into an exploding wooden bank. A good time was had by all. Then it was off to camp to get cleaned up & go out to our main event. Ministering at a concert in the park.
So here it was: Time for me to do the unthinkable. I was gonna push tracks in a park. We had made little tags for 100 water bottles that invited people to the church we were being missionaries for & it had the gospel on the back. The poofy mustached leader also had the dubious skill of making things out of balloons. You know… bees, dogs & the like. When we first arrived at the park it looked like the lobby of a geriatric center, though. No kids or young people at all. Gray hair, canes & walkers everywhere. We gave out water anyway and tried to explain, loudly so their hearing aide’s could pick it up, that the water was free. They kept thinking we were selling something. Soon the young people and children started arriving & the balloons were a huge hit. The band even played a march and asked us to do a balloon parade. So we led all the kids in the park with balloons in a big conga line around the park. I had to admit I felt a warm fuzzy or two. It was a happy night with a lot of good people having fun and sharing a little of that with the people in the park. At the end of the night Morgan & I snuck over to the ice cream shop & got 14 ice creams in all sorts of flavors & surprised our team with them as we boarded the bus. Aw, ain’t that precious?
So we went back to camp intent on going to bed, until I realized that it was skit night. And pillow fight night. Morgan had mostly been staying with the campers all week & the girls had practiced a skit she wanted me to come watch. The skits started around 10:30pm. They were lots of fun but the real fun started afterwards. I would guess it was 11:15pm. The director & junior counselors strung a log from two beams in the main lodge. Pillow fights generally end in someone getting mad or hurt or both. So the idea here is that two kids straddle the log like a horse with their feet not touching & they schwack each other with pillows until one or both fall off onto the gym mats below. Too much fun. This lasted until at least midnight. Sleep came easily this night because I was tired from the sleepless night before.
Thursday was Niagara Falls day. We finished up some of the main chores in the morning, warmed leftovers for lunch and then headed North. The campers left at 11am and I have to say I was glad. I noticed on this day that the normally jovial poofy mustached leader was very sullen. He spent most of his time away from the group. He was quiet and short when he did speak. We loaded into the bus about 1pm and with a determined SIX! we were on our way. Riding has become an accepted part of this trip. The camp is in the middle of no where. Riding to town takes 30 – 40 minutes. Niagara was about 1 ½ hours away. I found Buffalo, NY to be interesting as we drove by a river with Canada on the other side. Once we were at the falls we decided to go on the walking tour that basically takes you out on this wooden boardwalk built into the side of the falls on the American side. With your admission you get a sporty pair of sandals that will keep you from sliding off the side of the mountain & a poncho. My personal favorite was the Hurricane Deck. It boasts hurricane strength wind & water. It took your breath away & laughter was mandatory because it seemed so incredible to be voluntarily walking into it. We, of course, were soaked but my poncho did keep my camera reasonably dry. I couldn’t help thinking about the guys who had built this walk way. What must that job have been like? How was it accomplished? Did they do a good job???? Good enough to get us across at least. And what a way to turn 15 years old! The lone 14 year old traveler turned 15 the day we went to Niagara Falls. Whatever will he do for his 16th?? After we dried off and bought $25 ice cream cones and tee-shirts, hats, teddy bears with Niagara Falls written on them & the like, it was time to drive all the way back to camp. We got back around 8pm and dinner was waiting on us courtesy of the camp director’s family and the junior counselors who were staying the night. The campers were returning the next morning for a day trip. We ate & then started packing for the trek home. I tell ya, I have never seen so much mud. It is a wet place, this camp. My kids experienced every inch of it all over every piece of clothing they have worn. Some of their pants could stand up by themselves. Our suite cases were mostly empty because everything got piled into, not one but, two trash bags. That night at devotions the leader came in sullen as before. And late. Very uncharacteristic for him. He didn’t smile once all night even when I smiled at him. I decided something must be wrong back at home. I went over after prayer and asked him if he was ok. He said he was just tired. I asked if everything was ok at home and he looked at me kinda bewildered & said, “Well, something is wrong back home. I can’t really talk about it but it is a gut wrenching thing. Just pray that I will have wisdom.” He apologized for being down & I told him I didn’t want him to be sorry. I wanted him to be OK. Please pray for this sincere, giving, sometimes irritable but always serving poofy mustached man as he goes through this gut wrenching ordeal. Pray for him to have wisdom. I told him I would. I have & I will.
Once everything was packed away except the overnight things for our stay in Kentucky and the clothes on our back, be settled in for the night. As was Morgan’s custom, as soon as I was asleep she tried to sneak noisily into the room to retrieve something. She was sleeping with the camp director’s daughter & best friend in the room next door for the night. Once she was out for the night I don’t think I moved once until the alarm went off at 6:30am. Except for the usually sleep talking my sweet little grey haired room mate did once or twice. She is very busy cleaning & organizing things when she sleeps. But I easily nodded right back off once she was done directing the invisible people in our cabin.
Well that is pretty much that. Missions trip accomplished. We decided to drive all night and got home at 5am instead of staying the night in Kentucky. By 2am everyone was cranky, especially when some of the younger kids were being noisy. By 3:30 everyone settled down to sleep in the bus... except me of course. I played brick breaker until I was thoroughly frustrated and then just fidgeted uncomfortably until we arrived.
And so... New York may never be the same. Nor will we.
We ate lunch, cleaned up a bit & then went off to hunt for Amish. This is Amish country and we intended to spy some. We took two separate vehicles because if you come on a bus they consider you a tourist group & won’t let you come into their shops. No one likes to be gauked at, I suppose. So we rambled around the hills of Western New York in search of horse drawn buggies & the like. We found various little shops for iron working, crafts, & toys. The man at the iron working shop had 7 children under the age of 9 and I felt like I was trapped in an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Except perhaps somewhere in a Dutch colony. Crazy accents. Of course our kids had to stop at the toy store. I had a blast there too. These Amish were definitely used to talking to the public & hammed it up with the kids, showing them how to use various toys & puzzles. They randomly accused all adults of being cheap & tried to guilt us into buying more toys for our poor neglected children. Who can get mad at a fair faced Amish lady, even when she calls you cheap? I bought a thing called a “stool sample” for my 83 year old Daddy. It is a tiny wooden foot stool in a film canister. The kids played with Amish hand cuffs and put their quarters into an exploding wooden bank. A good time was had by all. Then it was off to camp to get cleaned up & go out to our main event. Ministering at a concert in the park.
So here it was: Time for me to do the unthinkable. I was gonna push tracks in a park. We had made little tags for 100 water bottles that invited people to the church we were being missionaries for & it had the gospel on the back. The poofy mustached leader also had the dubious skill of making things out of balloons. You know… bees, dogs & the like. When we first arrived at the park it looked like the lobby of a geriatric center, though. No kids or young people at all. Gray hair, canes & walkers everywhere. We gave out water anyway and tried to explain, loudly so their hearing aide’s could pick it up, that the water was free. They kept thinking we were selling something. Soon the young people and children started arriving & the balloons were a huge hit. The band even played a march and asked us to do a balloon parade. So we led all the kids in the park with balloons in a big conga line around the park. I had to admit I felt a warm fuzzy or two. It was a happy night with a lot of good people having fun and sharing a little of that with the people in the park. At the end of the night Morgan & I snuck over to the ice cream shop & got 14 ice creams in all sorts of flavors & surprised our team with them as we boarded the bus. Aw, ain’t that precious?
So we went back to camp intent on going to bed, until I realized that it was skit night. And pillow fight night. Morgan had mostly been staying with the campers all week & the girls had practiced a skit she wanted me to come watch. The skits started around 10:30pm. They were lots of fun but the real fun started afterwards. I would guess it was 11:15pm. The director & junior counselors strung a log from two beams in the main lodge. Pillow fights generally end in someone getting mad or hurt or both. So the idea here is that two kids straddle the log like a horse with their feet not touching & they schwack each other with pillows until one or both fall off onto the gym mats below. Too much fun. This lasted until at least midnight. Sleep came easily this night because I was tired from the sleepless night before.
Thursday was Niagara Falls day. We finished up some of the main chores in the morning, warmed leftovers for lunch and then headed North. The campers left at 11am and I have to say I was glad. I noticed on this day that the normally jovial poofy mustached leader was very sullen. He spent most of his time away from the group. He was quiet and short when he did speak. We loaded into the bus about 1pm and with a determined SIX! we were on our way. Riding has become an accepted part of this trip. The camp is in the middle of no where. Riding to town takes 30 – 40 minutes. Niagara was about 1 ½ hours away. I found Buffalo, NY to be interesting as we drove by a river with Canada on the other side. Once we were at the falls we decided to go on the walking tour that basically takes you out on this wooden boardwalk built into the side of the falls on the American side. With your admission you get a sporty pair of sandals that will keep you from sliding off the side of the mountain & a poncho. My personal favorite was the Hurricane Deck. It boasts hurricane strength wind & water. It took your breath away & laughter was mandatory because it seemed so incredible to be voluntarily walking into it. We, of course, were soaked but my poncho did keep my camera reasonably dry. I couldn’t help thinking about the guys who had built this walk way. What must that job have been like? How was it accomplished? Did they do a good job???? Good enough to get us across at least. And what a way to turn 15 years old! The lone 14 year old traveler turned 15 the day we went to Niagara Falls. Whatever will he do for his 16th?? After we dried off and bought $25 ice cream cones and tee-shirts, hats, teddy bears with Niagara Falls written on them & the like, it was time to drive all the way back to camp. We got back around 8pm and dinner was waiting on us courtesy of the camp director’s family and the junior counselors who were staying the night. The campers were returning the next morning for a day trip. We ate & then started packing for the trek home. I tell ya, I have never seen so much mud. It is a wet place, this camp. My kids experienced every inch of it all over every piece of clothing they have worn. Some of their pants could stand up by themselves. Our suite cases were mostly empty because everything got piled into, not one but, two trash bags. That night at devotions the leader came in sullen as before. And late. Very uncharacteristic for him. He didn’t smile once all night even when I smiled at him. I decided something must be wrong back at home. I went over after prayer and asked him if he was ok. He said he was just tired. I asked if everything was ok at home and he looked at me kinda bewildered & said, “Well, something is wrong back home. I can’t really talk about it but it is a gut wrenching thing. Just pray that I will have wisdom.” He apologized for being down & I told him I didn’t want him to be sorry. I wanted him to be OK. Please pray for this sincere, giving, sometimes irritable but always serving poofy mustached man as he goes through this gut wrenching ordeal. Pray for him to have wisdom. I told him I would. I have & I will.
Once everything was packed away except the overnight things for our stay in Kentucky and the clothes on our back, be settled in for the night. As was Morgan’s custom, as soon as I was asleep she tried to sneak noisily into the room to retrieve something. She was sleeping with the camp director’s daughter & best friend in the room next door for the night. Once she was out for the night I don’t think I moved once until the alarm went off at 6:30am. Except for the usually sleep talking my sweet little grey haired room mate did once or twice. She is very busy cleaning & organizing things when she sleeps. But I easily nodded right back off once she was done directing the invisible people in our cabin.
Well that is pretty much that. Missions trip accomplished. We decided to drive all night and got home at 5am instead of staying the night in Kentucky. By 2am everyone was cranky, especially when some of the younger kids were being noisy. By 3:30 everyone settled down to sleep in the bus... except me of course. I played brick breaker until I was thoroughly frustrated and then just fidgeted uncomfortably until we arrived.
And so... New York may never be the same. Nor will we.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
My Missions Blog, Part II
The next day was down to the nitty gritty of the trip. There is a bell that rings when it is meal time, gathering time or some emergency. It means come to where the bell is. It rings every morning in the 7:30 – 8:15 range. There is no real schedule in these parts and the camp leaders are rather proud of that fact. They are an interesting family. The wife’s father built the lodge. The husband is a tall, gangly man with terrible teeth, bowl cut hair and a face only the best of Christian’s could love. He is a good man though with a great heart for the kids who come to camp each year. His wife has this generic northerner look. Nordic features with dark hair. She plays the guitar and leads worship for the camp. They both cook because it is a never ending job with 44 people to feed three times a day. They have two children who are both home-schooled and have the social skills to prove it. Sweet kids. The girl is very shy and smiles eagerly through her long red hair & freckles. The son is… well… all boy. They all have great immune systems because in this neck of the woods, cleanliness is NOT next to godliness. Their home and the entire lodge is maintained rather minimally. I am growing fond of this place and these people despite it’s peculiarities.
Today is chinking day. It is repairing the girl’s cabin day. And sharing the gospel day. Our group is split into two groups. One will do manual labor & the other will go door to door hanging literature on door knobs. My hand cannot fly up fast enough to do manual labor. I really do not like it when Jehovah’s Witnesses & Mormons come to my home. It feels like an invasion of my privacy. I do not want to be that person. I believe sharing your faith should be a natural extension of the life you live. Either your life shares it or it doesn’t. Mine is rather iffy on that account. Actions always speak louder than words and words tend to be empty all too often. There are definitely times when words of encouragement & guidance can lead someone closer to or into their personal relationship with Jesus, but if our lives don’t match what we say then it is hard for other’s to trust. In this skeptical culture we have developed in America a pamphlet on my door knob might as well be a Walmart sale advertisement. I feel it carries very little weight but I do occasionally take advantage of their roll back prices so I won’t knock it too hard. Just not my cup of tea.
So I spend my day chinking logs. I learned that Oaken is this kind of rope that looks like it is made out of horse hair that gets stuffed between the logs in a log cabin. It acts as insulation. My job was to take the flat end of a crow bar & stuff it back in. All around the lodge. We did not have any new Oaken so we had to just stuff the existing Oaken back in that had fallen out. I found a rat’s nest that had been made of the stuff above the cabinet in the dining area. I recycled most of it but the little rodent had also shred a stuffed ball into the mix so I had to try to shake that part out. The things you do for missions. I also helped prepare meals the whole day in between chinking. The campers arrived at 11am and chaos ensued. I just kept chinking and ignored them mostly. I am not a really good kid person. I love mine, but…
It was a tedious day. And then my employment back in Georgia started invading my space for a while. The poor camp directors had to let me into their house to use their internet connection, not once but twice, so I could send a few documents over for work. They did not have a scanner or a fax machine so I had to get one of them to drive me to the nearest town to fax a document that had to have my signature on it. By the time I got done with that it was time to help prepare dinner. My 73 year old room mate & I made chocolate chip muffins and had the funniest time doing it. They were the hit of dinner, of course, and we beamed proudly at each other as we ate dinner side by side. I sat there admiring my chinking and feeling pretty accomplished.
Eating with the little campers all around is noisy & hectic but they all seem very happy to be at camp & are generally cooperative. We went out to a camp fire later and froze our toes off while singing choruses & listening to a Bible story. Three little boys accepted Christ that night and the bell rang 3 times. I took a long hot shower afterwards and fell asleep with my hair still wet, out of sheer exhaustion.
I must admit I felt almost drugged the next morning when I woke up. All the travel, work & general hoopla had me dragging. I woke up with medusa hair from sleeping on it wet & decided it was definitely a hat day. I got into the kitchen early enough to help slice some nectarines & pull grapes off the stem for breakfast. After a meal of French toast, bacon, fruit and hot chocolate we met as a team in this little trailer along the path to the RV graveyard. Everything here is orange, green & brown plaid. Most of the furniture is from the 70’s and has the original fabrics still on them. We decided at the trailer meeting that some of us would go out on the streets again and some would paint the ceiling in the basement of the church in town that was associated with the camp. Wow. Painting a ceiling. It was tough work but you know I volunteered for it. My hands would go numb and my head was throbbing while I looked up to paint some sort of cork board that seemed to drink in the paint like a sponge. We ate salami & turkey sandwiches for lunch and painted some more. I finally decided my pounding head was from caffeine withdrawal. I had not had a Mountain Dew in probably 36 hours and not even 4 Ibuprofen dulled the pain. I took a break and swang on the tree swing with the kids for a while and then started back painting. Soon we were ready to head back to camp but not before the kids were stained red & purple from eating Mulberries straight from the trees and Raspberries from the field. I guess we abandoned the counting off system because we were off to Walmart when we pondered if we had left anyone behind. We decided we hadn’t. I bought $150 worth of warmer clothes at Mr. Walton’s boutique and we headed back to camp. Morgan decided to abandon me for the night and sleep in the tree house with the camp girls. Staying with a 73 year old and your Mom can’t really compete, huh? I guess it could more accurately be described as a Tree Bus since it is an old camp bus they put up in the tree. My roommate & I were silly, I suppose, for wanting to actually sleep at 11pm. About midnight we realized our room was the closest route for 8 campers to get to the tree house as they trounced through our bedroom giggling and talking loudly. This was also the night that my little critter friends came to visit. I guess Morgan had gotten something out of the zipped bag & forgot to re-zip it. About 4am I heard the little whatever-it-was rustling the plastic & snapped up out of bed clapping my hands. I got up and secured everything & could not go back to sleep. Of course. I tried to find a place where I could type without disturbing someone but every corner seemed to have someone on a pallet or air mattress. Even the main lodge. So I laid in bed trying to play brick breakers on my blackberry but even that had some kind of glitch in it. Grrr. So I harrumphed and just laid in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour or so until sleep finally came.
Everyone’s personality is definitely coming out by this point in the journey. Our parolee is a funny guy. Very child like but with the strong opinions of an adult. He is starting to annoy some of the adults. He speaks with strong Ebonics and the young preacher’s wife is determined to get him to say S-TR-EETS but every time it comes out Skreets. I told her she needed to give up & expand her linguistics skills. He really has a good heart and is pretty amazing over all considering what he has been through in his 33 years. I am getting a little annoyed with the adults for being annoyed with him. He has been a Christian for 1 year. What is their excuse?
I have found the leader with the poofy mustache to be a roller coaster ride of mood swings. He is never completely unpleasant but he gets irritated and snippy sometimes and then can be almost annoyingly chipper and bouncy other times. For some reason he walks around every parking lot we pull into & picks up trash & returns buggies to the holding corral. He is a flurry of motion at all times. Oh gosh, and the crocs. He has red crocs. Camo crocs. Blue crocs. He is a lover of crocs. He really doesn’t like it if anyone second guesses his instructions and he is very knowledgeable about what to do when. I was especially frustrated with him when he lost his patience with the parolee once over something that was so petty it shouldn’t have been an issue… in my mind. But we are all getting tired now & I know these things are going to happen.
The almost 14 year old boy who came by himself is quiet and then alternately hyper and a very sweet guy. Super polite. As far as almost-15-year-old boys go, though, he is way above the curve. That one has a bright future!
The 17 year old girl has a neat story. She lived with her Mom until she was 10 but never sees her now. From 10 years old she has lived with her Dad & step mom whom she calls her Mom. She went to church alone for years and has been praying for her family to come too. Her Dad just got saved last year and now her whole family goes to church together. She asked lots of questions about life & church while we painted the ceiling together. Hope I didn’t ruin her with my answers. She is one of my favorites. Her and the 4 ½ year old boy. He is a HAND FULL but he is one of those with personality plus. He just cracks me up the whole trip with his antics, making his parents crazy and getting into all kinds of trouble. Sometimes I think to myself that the things they are expecting of him lead him into getting in trouble because no 4 year old can have that much endurance, discipline & pay attention for the lengths of time required. His family are work, work, workers. They volunteer quickly to go door to door. They have much more patience than I do and I am beginning to admire them as well. I would probably not hang out with them much without them becoming disapproving of aspects of my life but I like them. I think I am an OK Christian but not a very good Baptist and these guys, all of these guys on the trip, are thoroughbreds in that area. But this little couple is very laid back & sincere. They do exhaust me from afar because I remember how much work little kids are. Their 9 year old daughter is a saucy little thing who gets along well with most of the kids & is easily corrected when she goes astray. She spends a lot of time with Morgan, playing her Nintendo DS Fashion game. Divas!
Another favorite of mine is my 73 year old room mate. Talk about spunky. She was married to the music director at her church for 48 years. He died about 1 ½ years ago, so she is really figuring out what to do with her life now. I found out she lives in my neighborhood. So much for mowing the grass with a Corona in hand, anymore. She has been away from home for almost 3 weeks now. She has a wry sense of humor like mine & finds the leader a bit too perky at times as well. She is a servant at heart & works easily in the kitchen with the rest of us ladies, although she is occasionally a little too helpful and kinda gets on the leader’s wife’s nerves. It has all gone very smoothly though. Her 14 year old grandson has been on the three week trek with her. They will be riding home with us, so now our head count will go up to 14 instead of 12. I am and will always be SIX, however.
My son Noah is such an easy going laid back kid. He has fit in easily with the guys in his cabin. Sometimes he hangs with the 14 year old who came with his grandmother, my room mate, and sometimes he plays with the campers. Morgan & Noah both are generally quiet & compliant. I am so proud of both of them. Neither of them were the hardest workers but they are genuinely sweet, loving kids. More to come...
Today is chinking day. It is repairing the girl’s cabin day. And sharing the gospel day. Our group is split into two groups. One will do manual labor & the other will go door to door hanging literature on door knobs. My hand cannot fly up fast enough to do manual labor. I really do not like it when Jehovah’s Witnesses & Mormons come to my home. It feels like an invasion of my privacy. I do not want to be that person. I believe sharing your faith should be a natural extension of the life you live. Either your life shares it or it doesn’t. Mine is rather iffy on that account. Actions always speak louder than words and words tend to be empty all too often. There are definitely times when words of encouragement & guidance can lead someone closer to or into their personal relationship with Jesus, but if our lives don’t match what we say then it is hard for other’s to trust. In this skeptical culture we have developed in America a pamphlet on my door knob might as well be a Walmart sale advertisement. I feel it carries very little weight but I do occasionally take advantage of their roll back prices so I won’t knock it too hard. Just not my cup of tea.
So I spend my day chinking logs. I learned that Oaken is this kind of rope that looks like it is made out of horse hair that gets stuffed between the logs in a log cabin. It acts as insulation. My job was to take the flat end of a crow bar & stuff it back in. All around the lodge. We did not have any new Oaken so we had to just stuff the existing Oaken back in that had fallen out. I found a rat’s nest that had been made of the stuff above the cabinet in the dining area. I recycled most of it but the little rodent had also shred a stuffed ball into the mix so I had to try to shake that part out. The things you do for missions. I also helped prepare meals the whole day in between chinking. The campers arrived at 11am and chaos ensued. I just kept chinking and ignored them mostly. I am not a really good kid person. I love mine, but…
It was a tedious day. And then my employment back in Georgia started invading my space for a while. The poor camp directors had to let me into their house to use their internet connection, not once but twice, so I could send a few documents over for work. They did not have a scanner or a fax machine so I had to get one of them to drive me to the nearest town to fax a document that had to have my signature on it. By the time I got done with that it was time to help prepare dinner. My 73 year old room mate & I made chocolate chip muffins and had the funniest time doing it. They were the hit of dinner, of course, and we beamed proudly at each other as we ate dinner side by side. I sat there admiring my chinking and feeling pretty accomplished.
Eating with the little campers all around is noisy & hectic but they all seem very happy to be at camp & are generally cooperative. We went out to a camp fire later and froze our toes off while singing choruses & listening to a Bible story. Three little boys accepted Christ that night and the bell rang 3 times. I took a long hot shower afterwards and fell asleep with my hair still wet, out of sheer exhaustion.
I must admit I felt almost drugged the next morning when I woke up. All the travel, work & general hoopla had me dragging. I woke up with medusa hair from sleeping on it wet & decided it was definitely a hat day. I got into the kitchen early enough to help slice some nectarines & pull grapes off the stem for breakfast. After a meal of French toast, bacon, fruit and hot chocolate we met as a team in this little trailer along the path to the RV graveyard. Everything here is orange, green & brown plaid. Most of the furniture is from the 70’s and has the original fabrics still on them. We decided at the trailer meeting that some of us would go out on the streets again and some would paint the ceiling in the basement of the church in town that was associated with the camp. Wow. Painting a ceiling. It was tough work but you know I volunteered for it. My hands would go numb and my head was throbbing while I looked up to paint some sort of cork board that seemed to drink in the paint like a sponge. We ate salami & turkey sandwiches for lunch and painted some more. I finally decided my pounding head was from caffeine withdrawal. I had not had a Mountain Dew in probably 36 hours and not even 4 Ibuprofen dulled the pain. I took a break and swang on the tree swing with the kids for a while and then started back painting. Soon we were ready to head back to camp but not before the kids were stained red & purple from eating Mulberries straight from the trees and Raspberries from the field. I guess we abandoned the counting off system because we were off to Walmart when we pondered if we had left anyone behind. We decided we hadn’t. I bought $150 worth of warmer clothes at Mr. Walton’s boutique and we headed back to camp. Morgan decided to abandon me for the night and sleep in the tree house with the camp girls. Staying with a 73 year old and your Mom can’t really compete, huh? I guess it could more accurately be described as a Tree Bus since it is an old camp bus they put up in the tree. My roommate & I were silly, I suppose, for wanting to actually sleep at 11pm. About midnight we realized our room was the closest route for 8 campers to get to the tree house as they trounced through our bedroom giggling and talking loudly. This was also the night that my little critter friends came to visit. I guess Morgan had gotten something out of the zipped bag & forgot to re-zip it. About 4am I heard the little whatever-it-was rustling the plastic & snapped up out of bed clapping my hands. I got up and secured everything & could not go back to sleep. Of course. I tried to find a place where I could type without disturbing someone but every corner seemed to have someone on a pallet or air mattress. Even the main lodge. So I laid in bed trying to play brick breakers on my blackberry but even that had some kind of glitch in it. Grrr. So I harrumphed and just laid in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour or so until sleep finally came.
Everyone’s personality is definitely coming out by this point in the journey. Our parolee is a funny guy. Very child like but with the strong opinions of an adult. He is starting to annoy some of the adults. He speaks with strong Ebonics and the young preacher’s wife is determined to get him to say S-TR-EETS but every time it comes out Skreets. I told her she needed to give up & expand her linguistics skills. He really has a good heart and is pretty amazing over all considering what he has been through in his 33 years. I am getting a little annoyed with the adults for being annoyed with him. He has been a Christian for 1 year. What is their excuse?
I have found the leader with the poofy mustache to be a roller coaster ride of mood swings. He is never completely unpleasant but he gets irritated and snippy sometimes and then can be almost annoyingly chipper and bouncy other times. For some reason he walks around every parking lot we pull into & picks up trash & returns buggies to the holding corral. He is a flurry of motion at all times. Oh gosh, and the crocs. He has red crocs. Camo crocs. Blue crocs. He is a lover of crocs. He really doesn’t like it if anyone second guesses his instructions and he is very knowledgeable about what to do when. I was especially frustrated with him when he lost his patience with the parolee once over something that was so petty it shouldn’t have been an issue… in my mind. But we are all getting tired now & I know these things are going to happen.
The almost 14 year old boy who came by himself is quiet and then alternately hyper and a very sweet guy. Super polite. As far as almost-15-year-old boys go, though, he is way above the curve. That one has a bright future!
The 17 year old girl has a neat story. She lived with her Mom until she was 10 but never sees her now. From 10 years old she has lived with her Dad & step mom whom she calls her Mom. She went to church alone for years and has been praying for her family to come too. Her Dad just got saved last year and now her whole family goes to church together. She asked lots of questions about life & church while we painted the ceiling together. Hope I didn’t ruin her with my answers. She is one of my favorites. Her and the 4 ½ year old boy. He is a HAND FULL but he is one of those with personality plus. He just cracks me up the whole trip with his antics, making his parents crazy and getting into all kinds of trouble. Sometimes I think to myself that the things they are expecting of him lead him into getting in trouble because no 4 year old can have that much endurance, discipline & pay attention for the lengths of time required. His family are work, work, workers. They volunteer quickly to go door to door. They have much more patience than I do and I am beginning to admire them as well. I would probably not hang out with them much without them becoming disapproving of aspects of my life but I like them. I think I am an OK Christian but not a very good Baptist and these guys, all of these guys on the trip, are thoroughbreds in that area. But this little couple is very laid back & sincere. They do exhaust me from afar because I remember how much work little kids are. Their 9 year old daughter is a saucy little thing who gets along well with most of the kids & is easily corrected when she goes astray. She spends a lot of time with Morgan, playing her Nintendo DS Fashion game. Divas!
Another favorite of mine is my 73 year old room mate. Talk about spunky. She was married to the music director at her church for 48 years. He died about 1 ½ years ago, so she is really figuring out what to do with her life now. I found out she lives in my neighborhood. So much for mowing the grass with a Corona in hand, anymore. She has been away from home for almost 3 weeks now. She has a wry sense of humor like mine & finds the leader a bit too perky at times as well. She is a servant at heart & works easily in the kitchen with the rest of us ladies, although she is occasionally a little too helpful and kinda gets on the leader’s wife’s nerves. It has all gone very smoothly though. Her 14 year old grandson has been on the three week trek with her. They will be riding home with us, so now our head count will go up to 14 instead of 12. I am and will always be SIX, however.
My son Noah is such an easy going laid back kid. He has fit in easily with the guys in his cabin. Sometimes he hangs with the 14 year old who came with his grandmother, my room mate, and sometimes he plays with the campers. Morgan & Noah both are generally quiet & compliant. I am so proud of both of them. Neither of them were the hardest workers but they are genuinely sweet, loving kids. More to come...
Monday, July 6, 2009
My Mission Blog
We began our trip at 8am on a Friday. I was expecting the usual. Church bus. Bouncy roads. A 17 hour drive to Western New York. There’s an assorted array of participants. The leader is a middle aged man with a large bushy mustache and clogs to match most sports team shirts that he wore. He is a jolly soul who I am certain has lived a good life full of character and moral excellence. There is the elderly man who really came along to monitor his very young pastor’s behavior, I suspect. And to support and encourage him. He is a kind man who doesn’t sleep well but has a sweet spirit anyway. His 30 year old pastor brought his entire family along. The wife and two kids, 4 & 9, had just returned from a youth camp and immediately turned around and went on this mission trip. They are clearly a family immersed in the “doing” of church. They have sincere hearts with a steady determination in their eyes. There is also the parolee who is a reformed and now evangelical ex-criminal and the only black person on the trip. Special arrangements have been made for him to come on this trip while on parole. For a man of 33 with such a past, it is amazing how child-like he seems. He has a multitude of fears but is going on this trip anyway. True courage. There is a 14 year old boy who came along by himself and a 17 year old girl who is also flying solo. The 17 year old girl has been away from home at the youth camp with the 30 year old pastor’s family and she is now home sick and tucks up under them for most of the trip. And then there is us: A single mom with two amazing kids who must seem such a mystery to all of these good church folk. Everybody from these parts knows everyone’s cousin’s mama’s sisters. I know they are terribly curious as to my story but everyone is respectful and no one pries. Twelve passengers ready to make a difference.
We discovered the morning of the trip that there was no hitch on the bus. All of the luggage that was to go in the trailer must now be piled in the back two rows of seats. We head out in the usual form. Everyone is assigned a number and every time we exit & re-enter the bus we sound off. “SIX!” is my road warrior cry each time we head out. We drive through Georgia for most of the first day and sleep in the basement of a church in Kentucky that first night.
No snorers.
There is a God.
We rise and leave at 7:30am and travel through Ohio & Pennsylvania on the fourth of July. The roads up north are much bumpier than our southern roads and the mountain of luggage in the back row, which has been packed & unpacked once already, begins to landslide. This is only of significance if you are the one sitting in the next to last row, which my children & I were. I spent that whole day getting pelted by various hanging bags, air mattresses & boxes of supplies. I pinched a nerve in my neck that day, somewhere between sleeping crookedly in a bus seat and shoving luggage back onto the top of the heap. Just a nagging crick to keep me company for the next 2 days. We eat at the assorted food establishments along the way: Chick-fil-a, Arby’s, and of course Bob Evans. Can’t forget Bob. Shortly after we fill up on salads, ribs, and other miscellaneous foods courtesy of Mr. Evans in Jamestown NY, we head to the camp.
As we drive into the camp there are random broken down RV’s along the road on either side. It feels more like a processional to an RV grave yard than a summer camp site. When we arrive it is dusk and the ducks are meandering through the construction debris to the right and the pot belly pig is tucked away in her bed inside a work shed on the left. Her name is Mayberry and she gets grumpy at night in her “house” so we must tread lightly. It has rained for several weeks and the camp site is a mud slide. We slip & slide our way into the lodge with bags in tow. Plus it is cold. Very cold. Must be in the mid to low 40’s. Most of us are dressed in shorts. I skid my way to our cabin covered in goose bumps in my mud covered flip flops and find my bunk. Our fearless leader described it as rustic and his words did not fail him. I choose the bottom bunk with the double mattress and assess the bathroom that looks somewhat like those porta-potties you see at festivals, but with a shower. I think UGH. I walk back into the cabin room and my daughter is perched on the top bunk above me, grinning with satisfaction & says “This is going to be so awesome!” I smiled, rubbed her hair and said, “Yes it is sweetie. Yes it is.”
We made it through the first night with just a few pitter patters from our rodent room mates. I had been warned about both chipmunks and mice. I had showered in the porta-potty the night before, so getting to breakfast & then the bus on time was a cinch. With a hearty SIX! we were off to church. Church came and went rather un-ceremoniously. Ironic, I know. There were all sorts of interesting characters there, however. Most of the members ride over on a bus from a group home. Bi-polars. Mentally disabled. Physically disabled. They came in all shapes, sizes and ages. Then there was ZZ Top. At the last minute a lady, a young girl and three extraordinarily tall men with long hair & beards walked in and sat down. Well, only the men had beards. You can imagine my surprise when, later at the spaghetti social, they spoke with this odd Swedish/Dutch accent. It was like Bruno from Popeye having Minnie Mouse’s voice. Evidently the Swedish don’t bathe too often either, if you get my drift. Lunch was finished, dishes were cleaned and with a swift SIX! we were back at the camp site napping until time for evening services.
Evening service was rather unremarkable as well, and we were back at camp before I knew it. I spent some time blogging about the day and then joined the crowd around the grill where Bubba Burgers were cooking. I exchanged children stories with the young pastor’s wife and noted that they were young pups compared to me. I will be 39 next month. I don’t feel almost 40. I am the second most senior woman on this trip. The next eldest is 73. We ate and watched the kids have a roller derby in the lodge lobby with what looked like furniture movers like the ones you put under piano’s. After an hour with no injuries we decided we had pushed our luck far enough and bedtime was called. More to come…
We discovered the morning of the trip that there was no hitch on the bus. All of the luggage that was to go in the trailer must now be piled in the back two rows of seats. We head out in the usual form. Everyone is assigned a number and every time we exit & re-enter the bus we sound off. “SIX!” is my road warrior cry each time we head out. We drive through Georgia for most of the first day and sleep in the basement of a church in Kentucky that first night.
No snorers.
There is a God.
We rise and leave at 7:30am and travel through Ohio & Pennsylvania on the fourth of July. The roads up north are much bumpier than our southern roads and the mountain of luggage in the back row, which has been packed & unpacked once already, begins to landslide. This is only of significance if you are the one sitting in the next to last row, which my children & I were. I spent that whole day getting pelted by various hanging bags, air mattresses & boxes of supplies. I pinched a nerve in my neck that day, somewhere between sleeping crookedly in a bus seat and shoving luggage back onto the top of the heap. Just a nagging crick to keep me company for the next 2 days. We eat at the assorted food establishments along the way: Chick-fil-a, Arby’s, and of course Bob Evans. Can’t forget Bob. Shortly after we fill up on salads, ribs, and other miscellaneous foods courtesy of Mr. Evans in Jamestown NY, we head to the camp.
As we drive into the camp there are random broken down RV’s along the road on either side. It feels more like a processional to an RV grave yard than a summer camp site. When we arrive it is dusk and the ducks are meandering through the construction debris to the right and the pot belly pig is tucked away in her bed inside a work shed on the left. Her name is Mayberry and she gets grumpy at night in her “house” so we must tread lightly. It has rained for several weeks and the camp site is a mud slide. We slip & slide our way into the lodge with bags in tow. Plus it is cold. Very cold. Must be in the mid to low 40’s. Most of us are dressed in shorts. I skid my way to our cabin covered in goose bumps in my mud covered flip flops and find my bunk. Our fearless leader described it as rustic and his words did not fail him. I choose the bottom bunk with the double mattress and assess the bathroom that looks somewhat like those porta-potties you see at festivals, but with a shower. I think UGH. I walk back into the cabin room and my daughter is perched on the top bunk above me, grinning with satisfaction & says “This is going to be so awesome!” I smiled, rubbed her hair and said, “Yes it is sweetie. Yes it is.”
We made it through the first night with just a few pitter patters from our rodent room mates. I had been warned about both chipmunks and mice. I had showered in the porta-potty the night before, so getting to breakfast & then the bus on time was a cinch. With a hearty SIX! we were off to church. Church came and went rather un-ceremoniously. Ironic, I know. There were all sorts of interesting characters there, however. Most of the members ride over on a bus from a group home. Bi-polars. Mentally disabled. Physically disabled. They came in all shapes, sizes and ages. Then there was ZZ Top. At the last minute a lady, a young girl and three extraordinarily tall men with long hair & beards walked in and sat down. Well, only the men had beards. You can imagine my surprise when, later at the spaghetti social, they spoke with this odd Swedish/Dutch accent. It was like Bruno from Popeye having Minnie Mouse’s voice. Evidently the Swedish don’t bathe too often either, if you get my drift. Lunch was finished, dishes were cleaned and with a swift SIX! we were back at the camp site napping until time for evening services.
Evening service was rather unremarkable as well, and we were back at camp before I knew it. I spent some time blogging about the day and then joined the crowd around the grill where Bubba Burgers were cooking. I exchanged children stories with the young pastor’s wife and noted that they were young pups compared to me. I will be 39 next month. I don’t feel almost 40. I am the second most senior woman on this trip. The next eldest is 73. We ate and watched the kids have a roller derby in the lodge lobby with what looked like furniture movers like the ones you put under piano’s. After an hour with no injuries we decided we had pushed our luck far enough and bedtime was called. More to come…
Learning to Respect Myself Part II
I will never regret giving someone I care about the benefit of the doubt. I will never think twice about waiting, listening, sizing up all of the information. It is easy in personal relationships to have widely ranging emotions. It is not always easy to manage them appropriately. I am queen bee in that area. Passionate to a fault. But I am learning where the lines are.
The line for me these days is respect. In my life, generally, I feel that I am well respected. Maybe not always liked… but mostly respected. I don’t demand respect. It is just a part of who I am to work hard to respect other & expect that in exchange. I think it is a natural reciprocal relationship when respect is mutual.
However, when respect is a one way street it has become adamantly, strongly & sometimes vehemently unacceptable to me. Disrespect is offensive and often times surprising. Sometimes shocking. I recently had this encounter with someone that I had considered a friend. I have completely walked away from that relationship, realizing that if they do not respect me enough to show basic civil and moral decency, there is no place in my life for them. I work hard to be a good woman, a good mother, daughter, worker. Not because I want to impress anyone but because I want to like myself. I want to live my life without regrets as much as possible and I want to respect the life I lead. I have worked to try to be a high caliber woman. I will not be treated as anything but. If someone in your life does not realize the caliber of person you are and treats you as less, it will only lead to pulling you down to the level in which they regard you rather than keeping you on an upward climb. If I allowed this abuse of my self esteem to continue it would only drag me down. My life is in too much of an upward turn for me to risk it now on unproductive and damaging relationships.
As I age, self respect is becoming more concrete. More defined. I like myself & loath my missteps more with each passing year. But I am finding who I am, and that is amazing.
The line for me these days is respect. In my life, generally, I feel that I am well respected. Maybe not always liked… but mostly respected. I don’t demand respect. It is just a part of who I am to work hard to respect other & expect that in exchange. I think it is a natural reciprocal relationship when respect is mutual.
However, when respect is a one way street it has become adamantly, strongly & sometimes vehemently unacceptable to me. Disrespect is offensive and often times surprising. Sometimes shocking. I recently had this encounter with someone that I had considered a friend. I have completely walked away from that relationship, realizing that if they do not respect me enough to show basic civil and moral decency, there is no place in my life for them. I work hard to be a good woman, a good mother, daughter, worker. Not because I want to impress anyone but because I want to like myself. I want to live my life without regrets as much as possible and I want to respect the life I lead. I have worked to try to be a high caliber woman. I will not be treated as anything but. If someone in your life does not realize the caliber of person you are and treats you as less, it will only lead to pulling you down to the level in which they regard you rather than keeping you on an upward climb. If I allowed this abuse of my self esteem to continue it would only drag me down. My life is in too much of an upward turn for me to risk it now on unproductive and damaging relationships.
As I age, self respect is becoming more concrete. More defined. I like myself & loath my missteps more with each passing year. But I am finding who I am, and that is amazing.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Whatever did I do?
What have I done? I have committed to go on a working mission trip to some middle of no-where Baptist church & camp ground in New York that ministers mostly to people from a group home. Sorry for my political incorrectness... but I should fit in well with the tards. It was the love of my children that made me temporarily insane enough to say yes to this. I will go for 8 days and do some things I believe strongly in. I will do some things I am apathetic about. I will do some things I am fundamentally opposed to. All because I know my children need this. I need this. These things are fundamental building blocks of our Christian faith. Good, bad & ugly. I do not regret the decision. I am just gonna need to blog alot to get through it.
What have I done? I have never done anything so great as to deserve the children I have been given. I'm telling you... they are PRIME examples of grace abundant. We were going on vacation this weekend. We were gonna go see some AWESOME friends & go to a kangaroo reserve & a music festival with their favorite band playing. They saw the mission trip in the bulletin. They decided to forfeit this incredibly fun vacation to use their own money to pay for a mission trip. What kids do that? Sure, I encourage them to be good kids, but that is ALL God right there. I had to laugh tonight when the leader was explaining the devotional time & asking my kids to volunteer to lead one. Morgan asked, "What is a devotional?" OMG! No hiding my lack of training in that area. And later on Noah came in my bedroom & asked, "Do you have any extra Bibles?" I said, "No. Why baby?" He said, "Because me & Morgan need one for the trip." OMG! They don't have Bibles. But God's grace is right there... taking up my slack. I am so thankful that I cannot express it.
What have I done? My parents did so much more right than I have. They were so consistent. So faithful. So genuine. They've been married almost 47 years. But you know, thinking back I realize we never had "devotionals" either. Not much. We tried occasionally, which I have done too. But I always had a Bible. Gosh. Going tomorrow. I always had a quarter to give to the offering. I tithe so faithfully to this day that it must have stuck. It was their example. Their life. Their love. That is where I saw Christ. I hope my kids see that in me too, even though my life is much more "affected" by sin than their was.
Whatever did I do to be such a blessed woman in the middle of this crazy world? Work slammed me today. Life man-handled me. I was almost in tears when we came home from the missions meeting realizing we were leaving in three days and I still had at least an hour of work to do before bed. My kids were so excited about everything that they decided to pack all their clothes for the trip tonight & then wash, dry & fold all of the laundry to help me out. When I finished working I even soaked in my great big jacuzzi tub for the first time since we moved in. I cannot complain about how tiring, busy & overwhelming my life is when I am so blessed.
I never did anything to deserve this life. It's just God.
That's all I can say.
What have I done? I have never done anything so great as to deserve the children I have been given. I'm telling you... they are PRIME examples of grace abundant. We were going on vacation this weekend. We were gonna go see some AWESOME friends & go to a kangaroo reserve & a music festival with their favorite band playing. They saw the mission trip in the bulletin. They decided to forfeit this incredibly fun vacation to use their own money to pay for a mission trip. What kids do that? Sure, I encourage them to be good kids, but that is ALL God right there. I had to laugh tonight when the leader was explaining the devotional time & asking my kids to volunteer to lead one. Morgan asked, "What is a devotional?" OMG! No hiding my lack of training in that area. And later on Noah came in my bedroom & asked, "Do you have any extra Bibles?" I said, "No. Why baby?" He said, "Because me & Morgan need one for the trip." OMG! They don't have Bibles. But God's grace is right there... taking up my slack. I am so thankful that I cannot express it.
What have I done? My parents did so much more right than I have. They were so consistent. So faithful. So genuine. They've been married almost 47 years. But you know, thinking back I realize we never had "devotionals" either. Not much. We tried occasionally, which I have done too. But I always had a Bible. Gosh. Going tomorrow. I always had a quarter to give to the offering. I tithe so faithfully to this day that it must have stuck. It was their example. Their life. Their love. That is where I saw Christ. I hope my kids see that in me too, even though my life is much more "affected" by sin than their was.
Whatever did I do to be such a blessed woman in the middle of this crazy world? Work slammed me today. Life man-handled me. I was almost in tears when we came home from the missions meeting realizing we were leaving in three days and I still had at least an hour of work to do before bed. My kids were so excited about everything that they decided to pack all their clothes for the trip tonight & then wash, dry & fold all of the laundry to help me out. When I finished working I even soaked in my great big jacuzzi tub for the first time since we moved in. I cannot complain about how tiring, busy & overwhelming my life is when I am so blessed.
I never did anything to deserve this life. It's just God.
That's all I can say.
Friday, June 26, 2009
It's All About Personality
Growing up can be excruciating. Especially those early teen years. Kids can be so cruel. Kids must be so resilient. My daughter is not your typical 13 year old & I love that about her. We had some friends over last night and she was crawling around on the floor with the four year old pretending to be her cat. Alot of 13 year old girls these days are doing drugs and having sex. I cannot imagine it. Do not want to fathom the possibility.
By the time I was 13, I was dating a 17 year old. That really puts things into perspective for me. I dated him for a little over 2 years. At the ripe old age of 15 I was ending a very formative relationship in my life. I have to give him lots of credit too. He always acted very respectfully and never took advantage of my youthful ignorance. Not many 19 year olds have that presence of character. I was fortunate to have that relationship as a foundation for the future.
God gives us all very distinct personalities. Each has it's strengths and it's weaknesses. I have found the key to success in life is finding out A) what God has given you and B) learning to manage that wisely. My major was psychology in college. I had alot of personal stuff to wade through. I learned so much about myself and others while exploring the world inside our minds and emotions. This field of study is like any other. As my Dad says from a farmer's perspective, "You gotta chew up the hay & spit out the sticks."
The cruxt of my total reformation that has taken place over the past 4 years is, in many ways, all about personality. I had to take a Caliper test to get hired with my current company. It is basically a personality test as it applies to my work. It shows I have a strong ego drive, I am tenatious, I am boistrous, resilient and out-going. No big shockers there. Those same traits could also be listed as arrogant, stubborn, and loudmouthed if not managed properly. I have learned who I am & who I am not over the past four years. I have a hot temper but I have remorse when I lose it. I learn from my mistakes and move forward rather than continually repeating them. I am getting healthier by the minute on this journey into the new me.
So I encourage you to exlpore your personality. Most likely at first you will not like certain aspects of what you find out, possibly even thinking the assessment must be incorrect. But as it sinks in and you accept what God has given you, you can also learn to manage those things wisely. Here is one I found helpful: http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
Happy hunting!
By the time I was 13, I was dating a 17 year old. That really puts things into perspective for me. I dated him for a little over 2 years. At the ripe old age of 15 I was ending a very formative relationship in my life. I have to give him lots of credit too. He always acted very respectfully and never took advantage of my youthful ignorance. Not many 19 year olds have that presence of character. I was fortunate to have that relationship as a foundation for the future.
God gives us all very distinct personalities. Each has it's strengths and it's weaknesses. I have found the key to success in life is finding out A) what God has given you and B) learning to manage that wisely. My major was psychology in college. I had alot of personal stuff to wade through. I learned so much about myself and others while exploring the world inside our minds and emotions. This field of study is like any other. As my Dad says from a farmer's perspective, "You gotta chew up the hay & spit out the sticks."
The cruxt of my total reformation that has taken place over the past 4 years is, in many ways, all about personality. I had to take a Caliper test to get hired with my current company. It is basically a personality test as it applies to my work. It shows I have a strong ego drive, I am tenatious, I am boistrous, resilient and out-going. No big shockers there. Those same traits could also be listed as arrogant, stubborn, and loudmouthed if not managed properly. I have learned who I am & who I am not over the past four years. I have a hot temper but I have remorse when I lose it. I learn from my mistakes and move forward rather than continually repeating them. I am getting healthier by the minute on this journey into the new me.
So I encourage you to exlpore your personality. Most likely at first you will not like certain aspects of what you find out, possibly even thinking the assessment must be incorrect. But as it sinks in and you accept what God has given you, you can also learn to manage those things wisely. Here is one I found helpful: http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
Happy hunting!
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