I just haven't had a lot of time this year over Christmas break to do things I wanted. (Aside from shopping and I usually hate shopping). I don't have a lot of time right now, but I will attempt to reflect on 2011 briefly, while the kids are napping before we take off for our New Year's party at a friend's house.
What a dumb number 2011 is. Seriously. I've never liked it. It's hard to say and boring to write, and I just don't like it. 2012 will be much more fun.
This year was long, and actually, just like the number itself, it was pretty boring. I did not write a newsletter because I don't think people care to hear about the boringness of the stay-at-home mom life. Thus, I wll not do it here either. If you realy care, I could probably tell you. But, let's move on to more interesting things.
We did travel every other weekend this summer. In May we went on a long vacation driving across the gulf, because I've never been there. Daniel was sick for part of it with food poisining, and we ended up being awake with puking kids for half of the nights. Other than that, it was really fun. We visited relatives in Texas, which was great. I've never spent a lot of time in Texas, but I enjoyed the 90 degree days when Iowa had only been up to 45 at that point.
In June we went to a wedding. In July we went to Montana (amazing, as always). In August my sister got married in Nashville, and in October my brother got married here in town.
I didn't make a lot of time for reading this year, because I found it more interesting and engaging to work on my own writing projects. But I did read a little. Also, I was recently lamenting the fact that we just can't make it out to the movies as often because it involves a babysitter now. But I saw some movies. So, I know you're all dying to know. Here is my list of bests from the year:
Movie Captain America by far. I love that he was a true hero and was willing to sacrifice his life for the good of others. I liked the story line and how it all fit together and didn't leave us with unanswered questions. Mostly I just liked the action and the time period.
Book Excluding comics, I think the best book I read was The Peacemakers by Jack Cavenaugh. That is mostly because I haven't read very many this year, and this made a good story. It's part of a series about a family, book one being about the Pilgrims, and every successive book follows the next generation with a military story. This one took place during the Vietnam war, and told about the son who was fighting over there, and the daughter, who joined the anti-war movement at her California college. I really enjoyed it.
Second place is The Last Song by Nicolas Sparks. And I'm almost ashamed to admit it... I don't usually read best sellers because I have this thing about drones and masses, but I needed something light to read over the summer and I was curious what made everyone like Sparksey so much. It's maybe a little trite story about a teenage summer romance, but I'm sort of a sucker for that kind of thing. I still haven't watched the movie. And I'm probably more of a Nicolas Sparks fan than I would EVER publicly share. So don't tell my secret, OK?
CD Steven Curtis Chapman wins again! We picked up Re:Creation a few months ago, an unplugged album with some of his hits and several new songs. LOVED it. It's sort of like a sequel to the last album, with a hopeful tone and cheerful music to match. I especially like the "Morning Has Broken" rendition he did with his sons.
TV Show Once again, this is not the most current information. We watched Human Target this year, and stupid Fox has cancelled it, so it will just be a two-season slamer. It's about an assassin turned bodyguard who picks up different clients and stays sort of under the radar with his work.
We also started watching The Middle which I think is a really funny show, probably because I relate with the middle-class, midwest family life and how it sort of satirize it by making her and her kids a little more weird and over the top than average. And number 3 is a Canadian show called Hiccups which is about a children's book author who has anger management problems, and her life coach. She is his only client, and he's actually pretty lame at his job. BUt that's what makes it funny. It's a little dry, but I enjoy that kind of humor.It's made by Brent Butt, who wrote Corner gas, another Canadian sit-com. Why do I like Canadian TV? Pathetic.
Bible Verse It's sort of hard to narrow it down to one verse. My small group went through a book on Acts earlier this year. Right as we started it, the pastor at church started a series that just finished. Then, half way through the year, my Bible study group began their intense look at the book. I guess maybe God wanted me to learn something from the book of Acts. And it's been amazing to see it in a new light. Acts 8:27-40 tells a story about Philip and this Ehtiopian Eunich. Philip is seeing amazing things happen in Jeruseleam with his friends, and all of a sudden God says "Go take this desert road away from here". So he does, and leaves all of the action where it is and walks into the middle of nothing. But there's a man in a chariot reading the scriptures, and when Philip sees what he's reading, he asks him, "Do you know what this means?" And the eunich says "how am I supposed to know this if there's no one to explain it?" So Philip rides with him and tells him all about Jesus.
I like the account, because it reminds me that 1) God doesn't always want us in the middle of action where great things are happening 2) Sometimes the place God wants me to be is in the middle of the desert with one single person, walking with them and showing them what God's word means 3) God cares about individuals, enough to send a single man out of his way to share with one single man.
I could write more, but I think I need to go and be productive. we have to wrap presents for the other side of the family today because tomorrow will be "Christmas" with the whole clan! Happy New Year. I hope your year is full of good things, of godly influiences, and glimpses of Him and His glory!
k
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
We are Who We Are
We finished (survived) Christmas with my family. It was actually really fun. We've been hanging around, playing games and watching lots of movies. We go home at night with the kids and come back when we please, which has worked out pretty darn well this time around. It's nice to be able to get away. Because I love them, but sometimes... the bickering gets a little crazy.
There's this underlying amount of stress in my family right now. My dad's going to have heart surgery next week and it's kind of a big deal. So I think that everyone's a little bothered by that. And, we never all get along really great, because we're siblings and that's how it goes.
This year my brother and sister had spouses to help keep them in line, which was great. But sometimes I wonder what those new people think of our family. It's different for Daniel, because he's basically been around forever. My sister was like seven when he first met me, so he's watched them all grow up. And he was a teenager himself when he started hanging around.
These new in-laws haven't been around us very much. And I wonder if they're a little uneasy with all of the bickering and craziness that comes with all of us being together. I know they have families that have their own things. But the thing about my family is you know what's going on with relationships and feelings. You almost always do. Because we say what we feel. We show what we're thinking. Most of the time. We just are who we are with each other. And a lot of times that ends up being something everyone gets to see. I guess that's what makes a family what it is.
So hopefully no one got scared away this year. i for one enjoyed all of us being together and playing games and eating. And I can't wait until next time.
There's this underlying amount of stress in my family right now. My dad's going to have heart surgery next week and it's kind of a big deal. So I think that everyone's a little bothered by that. And, we never all get along really great, because we're siblings and that's how it goes.
This year my brother and sister had spouses to help keep them in line, which was great. But sometimes I wonder what those new people think of our family. It's different for Daniel, because he's basically been around forever. My sister was like seven when he first met me, so he's watched them all grow up. And he was a teenager himself when he started hanging around.
These new in-laws haven't been around us very much. And I wonder if they're a little uneasy with all of the bickering and craziness that comes with all of us being together. I know they have families that have their own things. But the thing about my family is you know what's going on with relationships and feelings. You almost always do. Because we say what we feel. We show what we're thinking. Most of the time. We just are who we are with each other. And a lot of times that ends up being something everyone gets to see. I guess that's what makes a family what it is.
So hopefully no one got scared away this year. i for one enjoyed all of us being together and playing games and eating. And I can't wait until next time.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Traditions
[Disclaimer: This post probably sounds pompus. I do not mean for it to. And I have no problem with people doing their own traditions, whatever they might be. so don't take this the wrong way. It's just about me and my preferences and opinions. And we all know I'm overly opinionated. Please don't be offended!]
There's always a lot of talk about traditions at this time of year. I'm just going to come out with it and say I don't like them.
I do sort of feel like a bad mom when people share these special meaningful things they do at Christmastime, because I don't do a lot of them. My family didn't do a lot of traditions, and I can't actually think of something we did every year, execept for getting a tree and decorating it. Otherwise it was always something different. And I'm OK with it.Realizing that many people hold traditions dearly, I can't really push my opinions off on people. but I've held this in all month, so I just have to get it off my chest. Don't feel like I'm attacking. This is just my personal preference. And honestly, it doesn't even always go the way I want to in this family, because i have a husband who thinks traditions are just IT.
Here's a list of things I don't want to become traditions for us:
1) Caroling. Humiliating.
2) Baking cookies. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, that's what the store is for.
3) Sitting around the Christmastree and reading the Christmas story. I think the kids ought to hear it before Christmas, or else it's too late to distract them from all of the presents.
4) Decorations. I like decorating, but I'm just as happy not to. And I'm OK with switching them out all the time.
5) Presents. I think that we might have some years where we don't do the classic shop around for Christmas and make lists and things. Some year maybe we'll just go on a trip together, or maybe we'll make all of our presents. Or maybe we'll only give presents away and not get any. I don't feel like it's essential to celebrating.
6) Family newsletter. Let's be honest. Sometimes, there just isn't anything interesting to share.
7) Music. AUUUUGH. If you know me much, you know I'm just not a fan of the same old songs that get sung every year. Certain carols, I don't mind hearing once or twice or singing in church. But. I do not want to hear yet another rendition of the SAME song.
8) Birthday party for Jesus. Not to be a jerk or downplay what other families do. We don't call it a birthday because to me it seems trivial. We haven't quite hashed that all out, but I don't like the phrase "birthday". Because Jesus existed in all of eternity. His coming to earth, becoming a person, wasn't so small as a birthday. The entire universe hinged on that moment in time when Jesus became a man. For kids a birthday is sort of an egocentric day in which they're spoiled and get everything they want. Jesus's coming was the opposite. He gave up all of the things that He had and came into the world in a barn with animals. I don't want my kids to mistake His sacrifice for a party. And maybe kids don't understand all of the theology completely, but I think that they get more than we give them credit for.
Now here are some things that I DO want to be part of every Christmas.
1) Snow. (even though I don't get a lot of say in this).
2) Family. Because I love them.
3) lights. I enjoy looking at tacky Christmas lights displayed in town. It's sort of fun. Right now the kids love it too.
4) Music. I'm talking the good kind. Real music. New words, new melodies, timeless truths put to art.
5) Giving. There are so many opportunities that only come at Christmastime. So we take advantage of them.
6) Jesus. Even though we aren't going to make a birthday cake or hide the baby Jesus from the manger scene or open a present for him or anything like that, I want to take time to remember, to reflect on what it means that God became a man. That now he relates with us and understands temptation and fear and pain and suffering. I want to focus on "Immanuel" every year and what "God with us" truly means.He's the reason the angels said "Peace on Earth, Good will to everyone!"
So. That's that. What traditions do you love to do? What ones do you hate? (Hopefully you don't hate me now for undoing traditions!)
There's always a lot of talk about traditions at this time of year. I'm just going to come out with it and say I don't like them.
I do sort of feel like a bad mom when people share these special meaningful things they do at Christmastime, because I don't do a lot of them. My family didn't do a lot of traditions, and I can't actually think of something we did every year, execept for getting a tree and decorating it. Otherwise it was always something different. And I'm OK with it.Realizing that many people hold traditions dearly, I can't really push my opinions off on people. but I've held this in all month, so I just have to get it off my chest. Don't feel like I'm attacking. This is just my personal preference. And honestly, it doesn't even always go the way I want to in this family, because i have a husband who thinks traditions are just IT.
Here's a list of things I don't want to become traditions for us:
1) Caroling. Humiliating.
2) Baking cookies. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, that's what the store is for.
3) Sitting around the Christmastree and reading the Christmas story. I think the kids ought to hear it before Christmas, or else it's too late to distract them from all of the presents.
4) Decorations. I like decorating, but I'm just as happy not to. And I'm OK with switching them out all the time.
5) Presents. I think that we might have some years where we don't do the classic shop around for Christmas and make lists and things. Some year maybe we'll just go on a trip together, or maybe we'll make all of our presents. Or maybe we'll only give presents away and not get any. I don't feel like it's essential to celebrating.
6) Family newsletter. Let's be honest. Sometimes, there just isn't anything interesting to share.
7) Music. AUUUUGH. If you know me much, you know I'm just not a fan of the same old songs that get sung every year. Certain carols, I don't mind hearing once or twice or singing in church. But. I do not want to hear yet another rendition of the SAME song.
8) Birthday party for Jesus. Not to be a jerk or downplay what other families do. We don't call it a birthday because to me it seems trivial. We haven't quite hashed that all out, but I don't like the phrase "birthday". Because Jesus existed in all of eternity. His coming to earth, becoming a person, wasn't so small as a birthday. The entire universe hinged on that moment in time when Jesus became a man. For kids a birthday is sort of an egocentric day in which they're spoiled and get everything they want. Jesus's coming was the opposite. He gave up all of the things that He had and came into the world in a barn with animals. I don't want my kids to mistake His sacrifice for a party. And maybe kids don't understand all of the theology completely, but I think that they get more than we give them credit for.
Now here are some things that I DO want to be part of every Christmas.
1) Snow. (even though I don't get a lot of say in this).
2) Family. Because I love them.
3) lights. I enjoy looking at tacky Christmas lights displayed in town. It's sort of fun. Right now the kids love it too.
4) Music. I'm talking the good kind. Real music. New words, new melodies, timeless truths put to art.
5) Giving. There are so many opportunities that only come at Christmastime. So we take advantage of them.
6) Jesus. Even though we aren't going to make a birthday cake or hide the baby Jesus from the manger scene or open a present for him or anything like that, I want to take time to remember, to reflect on what it means that God became a man. That now he relates with us and understands temptation and fear and pain and suffering. I want to focus on "Immanuel" every year and what "God with us" truly means.He's the reason the angels said "Peace on Earth, Good will to everyone!"
So. That's that. What traditions do you love to do? What ones do you hate? (Hopefully you don't hate me now for undoing traditions!)
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The Weight of the [Lesser] World
Some days I end the night with a heavy weight resting on me, knowing that I can't save the universe. That I can't even start. It bothers me and it irritates me and occasionally motivates me to action. But what bothers me the most is that most of the time, I just don't think about all of the broken people. I don't hurt for them much and I try my best not to think about it.
Tonight we went on a little hike down to a nearby town to deliver gifts to the family of an incracarated father through the Angel Tree program.
I hurt. They lived in a little trailer in the middle of nothing. Everything was run down and tired-looking, even their little white Christmas tree with an angel on top who was heavier than the whole tree.
There were four boys there with sad solemn faces who didn't talk a whole lot. And a mom who did talk a whole lot. And I got the feeling she appreciated the hand-out.
I didn't do a good job at listening to the Holy Spirit. I should have said more than I did. And now I'm thinking back, seeing all of the opportunities I missed to just say what I believe is the only way to really change their circumstances. They needed to know about Jesus. I think they wanted to know about Jesus. And I think they will find more out. But I wish I'd just said more.
I hope that they come to church for Christmas like we invited them to. I hope that I can find a church that is close enough for them to want to go to.
But i hope that next time, I say more than I did.
Because the world is so dark and broken and tired, like their little house. And the light that we have should be brighter than just some presents at Christmas.
Tonight we went on a little hike down to a nearby town to deliver gifts to the family of an incracarated father through the Angel Tree program.
I hurt. They lived in a little trailer in the middle of nothing. Everything was run down and tired-looking, even their little white Christmas tree with an angel on top who was heavier than the whole tree.
There were four boys there with sad solemn faces who didn't talk a whole lot. And a mom who did talk a whole lot. And I got the feeling she appreciated the hand-out.
I didn't do a good job at listening to the Holy Spirit. I should have said more than I did. And now I'm thinking back, seeing all of the opportunities I missed to just say what I believe is the only way to really change their circumstances. They needed to know about Jesus. I think they wanted to know about Jesus. And I think they will find more out. But I wish I'd just said more.
I hope that they come to church for Christmas like we invited them to. I hope that I can find a church that is close enough for them to want to go to.
But i hope that next time, I say more than I did.
Because the world is so dark and broken and tired, like their little house. And the light that we have should be brighter than just some presents at Christmas.
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Writing
More boring stuff about my writing.
I started a series back in May. I wasn't planning for it to be one, but I couldn't just leave it where it ended. I never can. I seriously never can.
Anyway. It started as a dream I had, and then I just went to work writing it. It turned out to be a pretty cool story.
The next one I started about two months ago. It's actually a spin-off because the main character from the first one becomes the new main character's roommate in the second one. So we still get to be updated about her life, but the story's about the roommate this time.
I really love it.
I loved the first one and I wrote it all in record time. This one was a little more of a labor of love, but I still wrote it pretty quickly. And I really really like how it turned out. It'll need editing. Lots of editing. But it's a story about an artist in Chicago, and I guess it just turned out even better than I thought it would. It went nothing like I planned, and that was OK too.
Now, though, now that I'm finished, I have this let down feeling. Am I really finished with it? I sort of want to write more. And yet it's just complete and I don't have to write anything else. I'm planning the third one, which will be another spinoff with another girl. But I"m still not quite sure who I want to use as the main character and what significant thing she'll do.
I don't want to be done writing this one. Usually I feel a sense of accomplishment and peace. But I don't this time. Maybe it's because I sort of want her life. Or maybe I just want to keep writing. Becuase the end of that one left a lot of open doors.
Whatever.
This is why I need more writer friends. Because it doesn't make a lot of sense to people who don't write stories. Most of the writer-friends I've had have moved on and we talk sometimes but not on a regular basis. And I just want someone who gets it. Sometimes. Not someone who will listen to the story (which I also love talking about), but someone who knows what it feels like to type out that last word and close the document that's been up on your computer for the last however-long. Someone who misses their characters and puts herself to sleep planning the rest of the story.
Maybe some day I'll be famous and I'll run in circles with other people who write novels for a living. I don't know. For now, I just sit around and type a lot.
I started a series back in May. I wasn't planning for it to be one, but I couldn't just leave it where it ended. I never can. I seriously never can.
Anyway. It started as a dream I had, and then I just went to work writing it. It turned out to be a pretty cool story.
The next one I started about two months ago. It's actually a spin-off because the main character from the first one becomes the new main character's roommate in the second one. So we still get to be updated about her life, but the story's about the roommate this time.
I really love it.
I loved the first one and I wrote it all in record time. This one was a little more of a labor of love, but I still wrote it pretty quickly. And I really really like how it turned out. It'll need editing. Lots of editing. But it's a story about an artist in Chicago, and I guess it just turned out even better than I thought it would. It went nothing like I planned, and that was OK too.
Now, though, now that I'm finished, I have this let down feeling. Am I really finished with it? I sort of want to write more. And yet it's just complete and I don't have to write anything else. I'm planning the third one, which will be another spinoff with another girl. But I"m still not quite sure who I want to use as the main character and what significant thing she'll do.
I don't want to be done writing this one. Usually I feel a sense of accomplishment and peace. But I don't this time. Maybe it's because I sort of want her life. Or maybe I just want to keep writing. Becuase the end of that one left a lot of open doors.
Whatever.
This is why I need more writer friends. Because it doesn't make a lot of sense to people who don't write stories. Most of the writer-friends I've had have moved on and we talk sometimes but not on a regular basis. And I just want someone who gets it. Sometimes. Not someone who will listen to the story (which I also love talking about), but someone who knows what it feels like to type out that last word and close the document that's been up on your computer for the last however-long. Someone who misses their characters and puts herself to sleep planning the rest of the story.
Maybe some day I'll be famous and I'll run in circles with other people who write novels for a living. I don't know. For now, I just sit around and type a lot.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
CHOCOLATE
I'm pretty sure there isn't enough chocolate in the world to make me feel better today.
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I don't want to do anything. everything and everyone annoys me. Although, in all seriousness, I think anyone would be annoyed with the Wal-Mart worker who insisted on walking in the middle of the parking lot aisle, and then turned around and gave me a dirty look for waiting behind him. He was wide. There was not enough room for my car to get by and I think it would have been more rude to pass him anyway.
Then he took three carts from the cart corral and left the rest of them there. I don't even know why he came out there.
Anyway. That was a tangent. This whole post is a tangent because I'm in a bad mood and I just feel like venting a little bit. Sort of reminds me of high school.
I miss my friend Twan. We used to write each other notes and pass them between classes, and that was my opportunity to vent about stupid teachers. Then we eventually made notebooks for ourselves that we could write all of our peeves and annoyances down in. It's actually kind of helpful. Maybe not. Maybe it just made us focus on bad things more.
I'm pretty sure my bad mood is because I really wanted to be pregnant, and I'm not. So while I'm hormonal anyway, it just makes it worse.
Maybe it's Christmas time that puts me in a bad mood. I don't like it when everyone is happy just becuase it's Christmas. Seriously. It doesn't make sense to me. That isn't a good enough reason. If you want to be hapy and content, that's fine. But it shouldn't just be because people are ringing bells and putting lights up.
I'm grouchy. Call me the Grinch. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I don't want to do anything. everything and everyone annoys me. Although, in all seriousness, I think anyone would be annoyed with the Wal-Mart worker who insisted on walking in the middle of the parking lot aisle, and then turned around and gave me a dirty look for waiting behind him. He was wide. There was not enough room for my car to get by and I think it would have been more rude to pass him anyway.
Then he took three carts from the cart corral and left the rest of them there. I don't even know why he came out there.
Anyway. That was a tangent. This whole post is a tangent because I'm in a bad mood and I just feel like venting a little bit. Sort of reminds me of high school.
I miss my friend Twan. We used to write each other notes and pass them between classes, and that was my opportunity to vent about stupid teachers. Then we eventually made notebooks for ourselves that we could write all of our peeves and annoyances down in. It's actually kind of helpful. Maybe not. Maybe it just made us focus on bad things more.
I'm pretty sure my bad mood is because I really wanted to be pregnant, and I'm not. So while I'm hormonal anyway, it just makes it worse.
Maybe it's Christmas time that puts me in a bad mood. I don't like it when everyone is happy just becuase it's Christmas. Seriously. It doesn't make sense to me. That isn't a good enough reason. If you want to be hapy and content, that's fine. But it shouldn't just be because people are ringing bells and putting lights up.
I'm grouchy. Call me the Grinch. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Thanksgiving
I haven't really been home for more than one or two waking hours at a time for the last 3 days, so I'm just now getting around to this. But, I had a great holiday even though it was exhausting and my house is a wreck. I always wish there were more time to spend with relatives.
But that isn't what I'm writing for. This is a small list of things I’m thankful for this year:
That I don’t have to cook Thanksgiving dinner. Or really cook anything.
That my siblings got married and that they married good people who help complete them.
For the family in every way. I love them all.
For my little Baby doll, JJ, who keeps me humble. If I ever thought I was a good parent, she’d put me in my place. She’s sweet and surprising and full of hilarious things to say, and snuggles to give.
And for Arlo, my intelligent, kind daughter who loves people in ways I didn't know a kid could, and who wants to learn about everything, especially history. What more could a mom-teacher want?
For my friends, the long-time ones and the new ones and all of the people in between who have walked beside me through the places I didn’t want to go and the places I did.
For my parents and their constant presence in my life and the way they always offer their house for me to host stuff because mine isn’t big enough. For their good health.
And for God’s patient ways that put up with all of the muck and mire in my life that always gets in the way of us, and that He’s willing to clean it up no matter how many times I screw up.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Starving Artist
The other night I went to a party with some people from our group at church. I got to talking with the "mentor" women, who are in in their late 40's with teenage/college aged kids. We were at Stephanie's house, so I asked about the art. Her parents own a gallery or something so she had a fairly significant collection of original paintings, none of which were "very valuable". But all the same, I envied her.
Then something happened that i don't think has ever happened before. We started talking about art and our love of art, and the other woman Sandy, asked "What's your favorite medium?" And I didn't even know what to say, because I've hardly done anything. I like using pencils a lot, but I liked painting. And I've never even used oil paints. So I told her that. And then one of them asked what kind of art I like best.
I've never had a conversation like that. And as I've thought about it since that day, I've realized it's a little bit of a hole in my life. Because I love art. It draws out a big part of myself when I see well-done paintings. I'm not a scoffer when I see modern art. I like to try and derive meaning from it, thinking about the artist and what place they came from. It evokes a strong response from me every time I have a chance to look at art.
Which is pretty much never, save the paintings at the dentists office or wherever.
Well-done art is scarse. In Iowa... I'm just going to say there's a big void. I know some artists. I've talked with some.It just isn't as big of a part of life here as it could be. Maybe that's true everywhere. I've never lived anywhere else. And maybe I don't pursue the opportunities I have when I should.
But I noticed a sort of starved feeling when I was at my brother's wedding reception at a gallery, and I wanted to spend the whole time looking at paintings rather than visiting with friends and family.
When I'm in a gallery (which is, again, never), I drink it in. It feels like there isn't enough time to really spend enjoying all of the art, and I know I'll miss something I would have liked to see.
I'm starved from art, and it's making me a little bit sad inside, realizing that I've neglected that part of me that makes me more alive. No longer. I'm going to do something about this.
And, i'm going to make sure my kids are well-cultured in the art arena too. If it's the last. thing. I. do.
Then something happened that i don't think has ever happened before. We started talking about art and our love of art, and the other woman Sandy, asked "What's your favorite medium?" And I didn't even know what to say, because I've hardly done anything. I like using pencils a lot, but I liked painting. And I've never even used oil paints. So I told her that. And then one of them asked what kind of art I like best.
I've never had a conversation like that. And as I've thought about it since that day, I've realized it's a little bit of a hole in my life. Because I love art. It draws out a big part of myself when I see well-done paintings. I'm not a scoffer when I see modern art. I like to try and derive meaning from it, thinking about the artist and what place they came from. It evokes a strong response from me every time I have a chance to look at art.
Which is pretty much never, save the paintings at the dentists office or wherever.
Well-done art is scarse. In Iowa... I'm just going to say there's a big void. I know some artists. I've talked with some.It just isn't as big of a part of life here as it could be. Maybe that's true everywhere. I've never lived anywhere else. And maybe I don't pursue the opportunities I have when I should.
But I noticed a sort of starved feeling when I was at my brother's wedding reception at a gallery, and I wanted to spend the whole time looking at paintings rather than visiting with friends and family.
When I'm in a gallery (which is, again, never), I drink it in. It feels like there isn't enough time to really spend enjoying all of the art, and I know I'll miss something I would have liked to see.
I'm starved from art, and it's making me a little bit sad inside, realizing that I've neglected that part of me that makes me more alive. No longer. I'm going to do something about this.
And, i'm going to make sure my kids are well-cultured in the art arena too. If it's the last. thing. I. do.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
God is Working
This might be an overly religious post. Fair warning.
Tonight started with me and my friends in Bible study, talking about things that make us insecure (We're reading a book called "So Long Insecurity") and what triggers insecurity. We talked about sensitivity and how it affects us. And we had some good conversation.
On the drive home, I thought to myself, "In my stories, I have these cool characters that say these nice insightful things about God at the right time. Why don't I ever do that? Why don't I just say what I'm thinking?"
I've realized in the last few weeks that part of the reason I don't say things when I want to is that I haven't been as sensitive to the Holy Spirit's work as I should be. Because I do believe he helps us find words to say and tells us when to speak. But I haven't really wanted to listen to that.
Part of it is because I used to have a really big mouth, and mostly I used it to be sarcastic and cutting. It was funny, and I sort of miss those days. But, in trying to reign that in, I probably squelched some things I shouldn't have too.
Anyway, I had that thought.
I went home and checked facebook. One of my friends quoted a Papa Roach song about suicide. At first I didn't think anything about it. Then i wondered if he was actually thinking about it.
Then a second friend messaged me that she was on the phone with him trying to find out how he was doing. I prayed. I prayed hard for him. Then I called Daniel down and he prayed too. This is a guy we've both known for a long time, but not very well. Eventually Daniel met the guy at Perkins to talk.
THen I called another friend to tell her that Daniel couldn't help her with her "technical question" that night but he'd try to call tomorrow. We got off topic (which is good, since we were talking abotu fixing toilets), and she basically ended up telling me her whole faith story. Which was great, because I've also known her for a long time. I mean almost fifteen years. And in that time, I've been praying and trying to be helpful and watching her slide up and down and all around in where she stood with God. Tonight, there weren't any questions left. She knows Him. She really believes that He exsists, that He's working in her life, that He's taking care of her, and that she can trust Him. And that is a big deal. If you knew her, you would understand. It's a really big deal.
I was so encoruaged to talk to her. And, I had the chance to say the things I was thinking, like I'd just been telling myself to do on the drive home.
I think I'm going to make that a more regular practice.
Because I like seeing Him work and change lives and answer prayers. It assures me that He's there. It doesn't always feel like He is. But sometimes it just does.
Tonight started with me and my friends in Bible study, talking about things that make us insecure (We're reading a book called "So Long Insecurity") and what triggers insecurity. We talked about sensitivity and how it affects us. And we had some good conversation.
On the drive home, I thought to myself, "In my stories, I have these cool characters that say these nice insightful things about God at the right time. Why don't I ever do that? Why don't I just say what I'm thinking?"
I've realized in the last few weeks that part of the reason I don't say things when I want to is that I haven't been as sensitive to the Holy Spirit's work as I should be. Because I do believe he helps us find words to say and tells us when to speak. But I haven't really wanted to listen to that.
Part of it is because I used to have a really big mouth, and mostly I used it to be sarcastic and cutting. It was funny, and I sort of miss those days. But, in trying to reign that in, I probably squelched some things I shouldn't have too.
Anyway, I had that thought.
I went home and checked facebook. One of my friends quoted a Papa Roach song about suicide. At first I didn't think anything about it. Then i wondered if he was actually thinking about it.
Then a second friend messaged me that she was on the phone with him trying to find out how he was doing. I prayed. I prayed hard for him. Then I called Daniel down and he prayed too. This is a guy we've both known for a long time, but not very well. Eventually Daniel met the guy at Perkins to talk.
THen I called another friend to tell her that Daniel couldn't help her with her "technical question" that night but he'd try to call tomorrow. We got off topic (which is good, since we were talking abotu fixing toilets), and she basically ended up telling me her whole faith story. Which was great, because I've also known her for a long time. I mean almost fifteen years. And in that time, I've been praying and trying to be helpful and watching her slide up and down and all around in where she stood with God. Tonight, there weren't any questions left. She knows Him. She really believes that He exsists, that He's working in her life, that He's taking care of her, and that she can trust Him. And that is a big deal. If you knew her, you would understand. It's a really big deal.
I was so encoruaged to talk to her. And, I had the chance to say the things I was thinking, like I'd just been telling myself to do on the drive home.
I think I'm going to make that a more regular practice.
Because I like seeing Him work and change lives and answer prayers. It assures me that He's there. It doesn't always feel like He is. But sometimes it just does.
Monday, November 07, 2011
I feel like talking about myself
Why would I have a blog if I couldn't use it once in a while for some narcissisticreflections, right? No one's making you read it.
Here's the news from my pretty boring life. I've been spending a lot of time writing. I'm working on a sequel to this book I wrote in about a month's time. The sequel isn't coming along quite as easily. I wish that it were because I like the story and i think it will turn out well, but I just finished reading through the 172 pages and trying to tighten it up and wasn't so successful. But whatever. I'm already thinking about the third book. Which could be a problem.
I've also been thinking about how much unhealthy food I eat, and how I really shoudl change that. It goes in spurts where I try my darndest to do it right, and then I get sick of it and eat a whole lot of things that aren't good for me. I like sugar. I can't help it. So now I'm considering this idea about taking out most of the refined sugars and flours in the diet and focusing more on protien. Because I feel tired all the time and the doctor keeps saying everything's OK but I sort of think something isn't. Long story.
Tonight I met with my preschool moms group for an "outing" at the pub down the road from me. We had a really great time. We talked a lot about health foods and natural living and gardening and meat and stuff like that. I felt really smart, having grown up in Iowa and being pretty familiar with the natural living I was raised on. A lot of the gals grew up in big cities so things like... canning is just foreign to them.
I'm feeling antsy for the "next" thing in my life too. I know i shouldn't be, but I'm restless. I want to get finished having babies and go on to school age, and live in a bigger house and have a garden in the country and stop worrying about neighbors. And it seems like everyone around me is having their next baby and moving to better houses, but I'm stuck. And I know it shouldn't feel that way and I want to be content. And most of the time I really am. But lately I just want to DO something different. It might be a long winter if this feeling doesn't go away.
There you have it. I could keep going but i guses I have nothing more to say. And I'd rather be working on my story anyway. This was the most boring post ever. Hopefully no one read it.
Here's the news from my pretty boring life. I've been spending a lot of time writing. I'm working on a sequel to this book I wrote in about a month's time. The sequel isn't coming along quite as easily. I wish that it were because I like the story and i think it will turn out well, but I just finished reading through the 172 pages and trying to tighten it up and wasn't so successful. But whatever. I'm already thinking about the third book. Which could be a problem.
I've also been thinking about how much unhealthy food I eat, and how I really shoudl change that. It goes in spurts where I try my darndest to do it right, and then I get sick of it and eat a whole lot of things that aren't good for me. I like sugar. I can't help it. So now I'm considering this idea about taking out most of the refined sugars and flours in the diet and focusing more on protien. Because I feel tired all the time and the doctor keeps saying everything's OK but I sort of think something isn't. Long story.
Tonight I met with my preschool moms group for an "outing" at the pub down the road from me. We had a really great time. We talked a lot about health foods and natural living and gardening and meat and stuff like that. I felt really smart, having grown up in Iowa and being pretty familiar with the natural living I was raised on. A lot of the gals grew up in big cities so things like... canning is just foreign to them.
I'm feeling antsy for the "next" thing in my life too. I know i shouldn't be, but I'm restless. I want to get finished having babies and go on to school age, and live in a bigger house and have a garden in the country and stop worrying about neighbors. And it seems like everyone around me is having their next baby and moving to better houses, but I'm stuck. And I know it shouldn't feel that way and I want to be content. And most of the time I really am. But lately I just want to DO something different. It might be a long winter if this feeling doesn't go away.
There you have it. I could keep going but i guses I have nothing more to say. And I'd rather be working on my story anyway. This was the most boring post ever. Hopefully no one read it.
Haunted
Lately I haven't been able to stop thinking about my best friend from high school. We aren't friends anymore, and I'm actually too dense to really know why, although I have an idea.
But it's sort of overwhelming once in a while, when those memories come up. Because they're more just like feelings. It's one of those subjects that hurts too much to really write well about, but i want to anyway, and I can't stop thinking about her. I've been praying because sometimes those un-erasable thoughts are actually something else, something spiritual that needs to be addressed. I don't know if that's true in this case but I've prayed anyway. Sometimes when a relationship ends yuo know it's over. Sometimes you know it's not. Sometimes you're just left to wonder.
But it's sort of overwhelming once in a while, when those memories come up. Because they're more just like feelings. It's one of those subjects that hurts too much to really write well about, but i want to anyway, and I can't stop thinking about her. I've been praying because sometimes those un-erasable thoughts are actually something else, something spiritual that needs to be addressed. I don't know if that's true in this case but I've prayed anyway. Sometimes when a relationship ends yuo know it's over. Sometimes you know it's not. Sometimes you're just left to wonder.
I never thought I’d lose you
I never knew I could
All of those walks through the halls
And afternoon locker meetings
The notes and the secrets,
The songs and the feelings
Torn apart now like a shredded photograph
Me reaching, you hiding
Anger and pain slipping in between
All our insecurities, what we once called trust.
In my dreams I see you often
And we aren’t enemies.
You know how sorry I am
You know the real me.
And we walk off together like old friends should
Entwined by memories
Love stronger than friendship, unbroken by time
Lost in those fragile moments.
If I’d known then what I know now
I wouldn’t have said I hated pink.
I would have given you a chance to speak
And listened without judgment
Why is it so hard to forget about those days
When we were still friends
I’d like to think that you’re the one who changed
But I think you know we both did
I just can’t stop rewriting the end.
If I could do it over
I would a hundred times
But you’d tell me how you felt
And I’d know what to say
And somewhere in the middle we’d find a way
Or some common ground.
Instead of all the hiding and facades
and maybe we wouldn't both be so empty today.
Friday, November 04, 2011
Passive Agression
I'm discovering that I'm the kind of person who can't stand passive aggressiveness. I don't like it when people puddle up their anger or hurt or whatever and don't bother to mention it for weeks or months or years. I'm not woman enough to read the signs. I can't tell when you're upset unless you TELL me.
I think I lost my best friend that way. She never said it, but I guess she was mad for a while.
And then I get in my head that maybe someone is upset about something and they aren't telling me. And that worries me even more, because then i'm afraid that, in their mind, everything I do is evil, and everything I've said has been another bullet against their chest, another stab to try to fix, and all the while I had no idea.
I obsess about it and worry and when i finally confront it I worry even more. Because no one likes to be the one opening the can of worms. But it seems like someone has to, and I'm not really afraid of fighting. At least not usually.
I mean, I understand. You're hurt. you don't think you can share it. Because when you're hurt you're vulnerable and the last thing you want to do is go with an open heart to the person who stabbed you and try to work it out.I get it. I've been there.
But you know what? That's how friendships work. It's how conflict gets solved. Not talking really just makes it all worse.
If you're reading this and thinking, "Oh, is that how she feels about me?" chances are, no. I don't. I just felt like venting that out, because of certain situations in my life right now which involve none of my blog-readers (at least not the ones I know of. I'm aware there are stalkers, but I can't be resonsible for keeping everyone happy, can I?)
I wish it didn't have to be so hard to live and be in community. But, if you have a biff with me, you should probably write me an email or call me or something. Because being angry and not saying something is like refusing to get a job when you're broke. No good. I'm tough. I can handle it. I don't want to be hurtful or mean, I promise. I'll respond the way you want, with copius apologies for my behavior or for being misunderstood. I'll probably even get you chocolate or something just to be sure you know how sorry I am.
Just don't be passive aggressive, okay?
I think I lost my best friend that way. She never said it, but I guess she was mad for a while.
And then I get in my head that maybe someone is upset about something and they aren't telling me. And that worries me even more, because then i'm afraid that, in their mind, everything I do is evil, and everything I've said has been another bullet against their chest, another stab to try to fix, and all the while I had no idea.
I obsess about it and worry and when i finally confront it I worry even more. Because no one likes to be the one opening the can of worms. But it seems like someone has to, and I'm not really afraid of fighting. At least not usually.
I mean, I understand. You're hurt. you don't think you can share it. Because when you're hurt you're vulnerable and the last thing you want to do is go with an open heart to the person who stabbed you and try to work it out.I get it. I've been there.
But you know what? That's how friendships work. It's how conflict gets solved. Not talking really just makes it all worse.
If you're reading this and thinking, "Oh, is that how she feels about me?" chances are, no. I don't. I just felt like venting that out, because of certain situations in my life right now which involve none of my blog-readers (at least not the ones I know of. I'm aware there are stalkers, but I can't be resonsible for keeping everyone happy, can I?)
I wish it didn't have to be so hard to live and be in community. But, if you have a biff with me, you should probably write me an email or call me or something. Because being angry and not saying something is like refusing to get a job when you're broke. No good. I'm tough. I can handle it. I don't want to be hurtful or mean, I promise. I'll respond the way you want, with copius apologies for my behavior or for being misunderstood. I'll probably even get you chocolate or something just to be sure you know how sorry I am.
Just don't be passive aggressive, okay?
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Not Everyone at church is a Christian
Is that a news flash? I mean, it seems kind of obvious. But what Id in't know when I was younger was that not everyone who ACTS like a Christian is actually a Christian either. They come to church and they do all of the right things and go through all of the motions, but they haven't really been able to surrender to Christ for whatever reason. It doesn't make them bad or terrible, please don't think that's what I'm talking about here. What I'm thinking about is my own past and one of the only big regrets I have.
I had several friends who fell into this category. I don't know where their hearts were when I knew them, maybe they were sincere then and just wandered away later. But one friend actually told me that she'd been faking. I'll call her Jane. She was there every Sunday. Every Wednesday. She was in the choir. She went on the retreats. she went to Mexico with us. She wasn't afraid to talk about God. And I never had any reason to question her sincerity.
But then she told me, ten years later, that she'd just wanted somewhere to belong, and the Christian kids seemed nice enough so that was what she did. It never really meant anything to her. It never sunk into her heart.
And it makes me sad that I was (probably still am) so dense. That I couldn't see that creeping sadness in her eyes, notice the brokenness in her stories, read in between the lines and see what she was trying to tell me all along.
And I think, a lot of people come to church because they're hurt and they want to feel safe. But sometimes maybe that comes with the cost of disguising the wounds and just trying to fit in. I think that's true for people who know Christ and people who don't. Church shouldn't be a scary unsafe place, but some how since we're all hiding our wounds, it becomes like that unintentionally. And that's a tangent.
So I'm sort of left wonder what I'm supposed to do now that I know the truth, that some of those hurting friends of mine actually just haven't come to "saving faith" as it were. I mean, we're not supposed to "judge", and I don't think we should go around questioning peoples' salvation. So I don't really know what to do with it. Because I don't want to be a well-intentioned jerk who thinks that I'm "encouraging the brotherhood" but really I'm just saying things that don't mean anything t oa person who's faith isn't quite where I thought it was. I think I lost my best friend that way. I thought I was giving her a little push to follow things she'd claimed to believe, but I think in her heart all she heard from me was "You aren't actually good enough and you have to do this to be". Which was not my intention. And I never would have said anything to her if I'd known she didn't truly know God. Because really I would have been OK with it. I would have still loved her the same. I wish people would feel like they can be honest with me.
Lingering questions haunt me because of that relationship, and the other one with Jane. Is it safe to assume that everyone I go to church with understands the gospel? Obviously not. I just don't quite know where to draw the line between judging and helping and discerning. Maybe if i knew God better, it would be easier to pick up on those cries for help. Or maybe I'm just not supposed to really concern myself with it, and just do what I would have done anyway. But it sure sucks losing friends.
I had several friends who fell into this category. I don't know where their hearts were when I knew them, maybe they were sincere then and just wandered away later. But one friend actually told me that she'd been faking. I'll call her Jane. She was there every Sunday. Every Wednesday. She was in the choir. She went on the retreats. she went to Mexico with us. She wasn't afraid to talk about God. And I never had any reason to question her sincerity.
But then she told me, ten years later, that she'd just wanted somewhere to belong, and the Christian kids seemed nice enough so that was what she did. It never really meant anything to her. It never sunk into her heart.
And it makes me sad that I was (probably still am) so dense. That I couldn't see that creeping sadness in her eyes, notice the brokenness in her stories, read in between the lines and see what she was trying to tell me all along.
And I think, a lot of people come to church because they're hurt and they want to feel safe. But sometimes maybe that comes with the cost of disguising the wounds and just trying to fit in. I think that's true for people who know Christ and people who don't. Church shouldn't be a scary unsafe place, but some how since we're all hiding our wounds, it becomes like that unintentionally. And that's a tangent.
So I'm sort of left wonder what I'm supposed to do now that I know the truth, that some of those hurting friends of mine actually just haven't come to "saving faith" as it were. I mean, we're not supposed to "judge", and I don't think we should go around questioning peoples' salvation. So I don't really know what to do with it. Because I don't want to be a well-intentioned jerk who thinks that I'm "encouraging the brotherhood" but really I'm just saying things that don't mean anything t oa person who's faith isn't quite where I thought it was. I think I lost my best friend that way. I thought I was giving her a little push to follow things she'd claimed to believe, but I think in her heart all she heard from me was "You aren't actually good enough and you have to do this to be". Which was not my intention. And I never would have said anything to her if I'd known she didn't truly know God. Because really I would have been OK with it. I would have still loved her the same. I wish people would feel like they can be honest with me.
Lingering questions haunt me because of that relationship, and the other one with Jane. Is it safe to assume that everyone I go to church with understands the gospel? Obviously not. I just don't quite know where to draw the line between judging and helping and discerning. Maybe if i knew God better, it would be easier to pick up on those cries for help. Or maybe I'm just not supposed to really concern myself with it, and just do what I would have done anyway. But it sure sucks losing friends.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Inside on the Outside (and a slew of parentheticals for your reading enjoyment)
Here's something I've been thinking about lately. How we get left out.
It's been a lifelong struggle for me. Brian used to say "Accepted but not included", and that's usually how I feel. I had a good friend in high school, one who was even in my wedding.
On her birthday, I showed up with Daniel (we were all friends) to deliver a birthday card for her. She was having a slumber party. I wasn't invited.
I still secretly hope that she felt really bad.
But that pretty much defines how life works for me. I think I'm just not as cool as everyone else. I mean really, I'm pretty boring in real life. I don't talk a lot, and I'm not animated or really engaging. (Cue "I'm a lot cooler online" (even though I don't listen to country music, I make a few exceptions)).
And it bugs me, at the core of who I am. It probably all goes back to seventh grade when two of the snottiest girls I've ever known threw a party and invited the whole class except for me. And they made sure I knew it too. I didn't care that much because I probably wouldn't have gone. but it's the thought that counts, right? The evil, vicious intentions of insecure girls who hated me for some reason and I still don't even know why. It's made me wonder what's wrong with me. What's missing. Am I easy to ignore? I must be, because I've sent emails and messages to people inviting them to hang out and never gotten responses. And that's been happening more and more lately. I hate it.
And I know. People are busy. People really do have better things to do. People don't dislike me just because they can't spend time with me. I probably do the same thing unintentionally.
And, as I've gotten older, I've decided to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. As painful as it is. I'm just going to assume that they forgot to invite me, or they didn't get the email, or that they truly just didn't notice me. It's more OK like that. It's good to live under grace.
I have wondered lately, why everyone feels left out. And I think I've come to this profound conclusion. We don't notice when we're being included. We only notice when we're being forsaken. Because when we're included, we don't have to be self-absorbed or insecure. I think most people have a place or group where they're part of the "in" group.
and most people have countless other places where they feel like an outsider. Sometimes for no good reason. So I'm giving those places a chance. I'm still trying (not that hard because then it won't hurt as much if I'm rejected (yes, I'm a middle child)). So far, I haven't noticed any all group events I wasn't invited to. So maybe I'm not as much of a failure as I always feel like.
And that's about as vulnerable as I'm willing to be on that subject. I know everyone feels like that sometimes. I just wonder if I feel it more than everyone else. And I wonder when I'm on the "inside" if I care enough to notice the ones who aren't. I hope so. I really do. Because I'm operating under the assumption that all of the other people who have left me out think the same way I do, and don't ever mean to ignore others. If I'm wrong about that, then... then this whole post is moot.
It's been a lifelong struggle for me. Brian used to say "Accepted but not included", and that's usually how I feel. I had a good friend in high school, one who was even in my wedding.
On her birthday, I showed up with Daniel (we were all friends) to deliver a birthday card for her. She was having a slumber party. I wasn't invited.
I still secretly hope that she felt really bad.
But that pretty much defines how life works for me. I think I'm just not as cool as everyone else. I mean really, I'm pretty boring in real life. I don't talk a lot, and I'm not animated or really engaging. (Cue "I'm a lot cooler online" (even though I don't listen to country music, I make a few exceptions)).
And it bugs me, at the core of who I am. It probably all goes back to seventh grade when two of the snottiest girls I've ever known threw a party and invited the whole class except for me. And they made sure I knew it too. I didn't care that much because I probably wouldn't have gone. but it's the thought that counts, right? The evil, vicious intentions of insecure girls who hated me for some reason and I still don't even know why. It's made me wonder what's wrong with me. What's missing. Am I easy to ignore? I must be, because I've sent emails and messages to people inviting them to hang out and never gotten responses. And that's been happening more and more lately. I hate it.
And I know. People are busy. People really do have better things to do. People don't dislike me just because they can't spend time with me. I probably do the same thing unintentionally.
And, as I've gotten older, I've decided to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. As painful as it is. I'm just going to assume that they forgot to invite me, or they didn't get the email, or that they truly just didn't notice me. It's more OK like that. It's good to live under grace.
I have wondered lately, why everyone feels left out. And I think I've come to this profound conclusion. We don't notice when we're being included. We only notice when we're being forsaken. Because when we're included, we don't have to be self-absorbed or insecure. I think most people have a place or group where they're part of the "in" group.
and most people have countless other places where they feel like an outsider. Sometimes for no good reason. So I'm giving those places a chance. I'm still trying (not that hard because then it won't hurt as much if I'm rejected (yes, I'm a middle child)). So far, I haven't noticed any all group events I wasn't invited to. So maybe I'm not as much of a failure as I always feel like.
And that's about as vulnerable as I'm willing to be on that subject. I know everyone feels like that sometimes. I just wonder if I feel it more than everyone else. And I wonder when I'm on the "inside" if I care enough to notice the ones who aren't. I hope so. I really do. Because I'm operating under the assumption that all of the other people who have left me out think the same way I do, and don't ever mean to ignore others. If I'm wrong about that, then... then this whole post is moot.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Community
Last week in my adult Bible class at church, we broke into small groups and shared prayer requests. This isn't uncommon for us to do. This week, there were some new people in my group. We sat around and visited for a while, and then we shared the things on our hearts. We agreed to pray for the person on our left, and then we went around hte circle.
Next thing I knew, the "new guy" was praying, with tears, for the "new girl" beside him that her husband would know God and would come to church. We didn't know each other, but we were all earnestly praying for the same thing.
we passed around tissue and went on with class.
But I've thought about that moment over and over for the last week. About how beautiful it really was. What an example of how the Church is supposed to be. Because we should be praying for each other with that kind of zeal. And we should be allowed to get emotional about peoples' souls and eternity. And we shouldn't have to be afraid to let go of the tears when we're pouring our hearts out to God. And we should always have that kind of unity when we are praying together.
There have been other moments like that for me along my walk with God, but this one struck me so hard. Maybe it was because we didn't know each other except for those five minutes we talked, and still we found the common cause moving enough that we could share our fervency. Maybe it just happened to be what we were praying for. Maybe we were all short on sleep. I don't know. All I know is, God heard us, and I truly believe He answers those prayers like he promised, when two or three are gathered together, He is with them. And I want more of that in my life.
Next thing I knew, the "new guy" was praying, with tears, for the "new girl" beside him that her husband would know God and would come to church. We didn't know each other, but we were all earnestly praying for the same thing.
we passed around tissue and went on with class.
But I've thought about that moment over and over for the last week. About how beautiful it really was. What an example of how the Church is supposed to be. Because we should be praying for each other with that kind of zeal. And we should be allowed to get emotional about peoples' souls and eternity. And we shouldn't have to be afraid to let go of the tears when we're pouring our hearts out to God. And we should always have that kind of unity when we are praying together.
There have been other moments like that for me along my walk with God, but this one struck me so hard. Maybe it was because we didn't know each other except for those five minutes we talked, and still we found the common cause moving enough that we could share our fervency. Maybe it just happened to be what we were praying for. Maybe we were all short on sleep. I don't know. All I know is, God heard us, and I truly believe He answers those prayers like he promised, when two or three are gathered together, He is with them. And I want more of that in my life.
Truth Speakers
I think we see it on TV more than in real life. Some person, a close friend or an enemy or say, a cop's partner, finally lets loose and gives out their analysis of their friend's reason behind why they act the way they do, why it's wrong (or right or justified) and we watch while the person hearing these things reacts in anger or pushes it away. Because it's true, and they don't want to hear it.
There are times in my life when I long for truth-speakers to just say what they see in me. I had a few of them when i was younger. Brian, my big brother who I met in a chat room (best guy I ever knew at the time. Still in my top 10.) Nathan, another big brother, who actually became my big brother (in-law). Sarah, my slight neurotic, oversensitive friend who liked to talk about others but wasn't so into hearing things about herself. And there have been others along the way. A few who seem to know me well, who see through the shimmery masks I sometimes wear and say what they see.
Sometimes the questions and doubts get so big inside of me, that it feels like if someone doesn't fix them, I'll explode. It's not that I'm relying on people to fix my problems. But sometimes you get so wrapped up in yourself, you don't see the things in your heart that have become black marks, that are pulling you further away from the truth.
And while I'm bemoaning the fact that I don't have people like that in my life right now, I'm realizing that maybe I'm different than I was back then. There were a few people I could be honest with, and who I knew I could say what I really wanted to say to. Now there's this trap around me, and really, just a lot less time to sit around psycho-analyzing my life and thoughts. Maybe I should do it more often. Maybe we all should. Because those truth-speakers, who say things that aren't always easy to say, who leave wounds on the soul that become strong spots, who can heal by pulling away the calluses and showing you reality, who love so much that their hard-to-swallow words feel more like candy than medicine--they're out there. I know they are. I don't want to show myself to them anymore, though. But I think I should.
And, while I'm at it, I think that I should be less afraid to say what I see in others. I always come across as brash or blunt, but if I can just gauge myself, somehow figure out the grace end of grace and truth, the loving amidst battles, then maybe God would be able to use me more often.
And that's all I have to say on that one.
There are times in my life when I long for truth-speakers to just say what they see in me. I had a few of them when i was younger. Brian, my big brother who I met in a chat room (best guy I ever knew at the time. Still in my top 10.) Nathan, another big brother, who actually became my big brother (in-law). Sarah, my slight neurotic, oversensitive friend who liked to talk about others but wasn't so into hearing things about herself. And there have been others along the way. A few who seem to know me well, who see through the shimmery masks I sometimes wear and say what they see.
Sometimes the questions and doubts get so big inside of me, that it feels like if someone doesn't fix them, I'll explode. It's not that I'm relying on people to fix my problems. But sometimes you get so wrapped up in yourself, you don't see the things in your heart that have become black marks, that are pulling you further away from the truth.
And while I'm bemoaning the fact that I don't have people like that in my life right now, I'm realizing that maybe I'm different than I was back then. There were a few people I could be honest with, and who I knew I could say what I really wanted to say to. Now there's this trap around me, and really, just a lot less time to sit around psycho-analyzing my life and thoughts. Maybe I should do it more often. Maybe we all should. Because those truth-speakers, who say things that aren't always easy to say, who leave wounds on the soul that become strong spots, who can heal by pulling away the calluses and showing you reality, who love so much that their hard-to-swallow words feel more like candy than medicine--they're out there. I know they are. I don't want to show myself to them anymore, though. But I think I should.
And, while I'm at it, I think that I should be less afraid to say what I see in others. I always come across as brash or blunt, but if I can just gauge myself, somehow figure out the grace end of grace and truth, the loving amidst battles, then maybe God would be able to use me more often.
And that's all I have to say on that one.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Jeremiah
Do you think that you were made just to sound the alarm
Did you ever wonder if anyone would listen
Or did you think they all would?
Standing there in the ruins of the city
That word you could not quench
The voices you could not quiet
The fire you could not quell
You who were mocked and ignored
Still there yelling, sobbing, mourning and fighting
Bringing forth the word
Foretelling death and judgment
The one who was chosen
The one who was hated.
But it didn’t change your message.
It didn’t mean you were wrong
Just a piece of cruel irony
The prophet to a hardened people
Who thought they understood God
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Where were you?
Seems like the question people ask about 9-11. Maybe just because of that overdramatized song... maybe because people seem to remember stuff like that. I remember. I didn't have any clue it had happened, sitting alone in the apartment while Daniel was at class. A friend IM'ed me and asked something like "Did you watch the news?" or something like that, so I thought I should check. I went to some website and looked it up (no TV), and saw the burning tower. It was right after it happened. Then we watched the rest of the day while the news unfolded.
I went home and listened to "While the Nations Rage" by Rich Mullins, over and over and over.
And I know that people remember that moment like it was frozen in time, but I don't really get it. Maybe because I didn't get it then, either. The impact. I was 19. Maybe I still don't get it, though.
I like to remember, and I'm so proud of our country and how we all pulled together and stood united. I wish it happened more often, but in this day and age it just won't.
I remember seeing the flags at half-mass. and the patriotic sentiments we all shared.
I remember the news that came through over the next weeks.
I remember feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of disaster.
But I never felt unsafe. And I never wondered "why" it happened. And I'm so glad it isn't our job to save the world, because look at what a disaster we've made of it.
It's tragic. I think about it often, too. Those burning towers and the lives that were lost. All of the sadness and sorrow and pain. And I wish that I understood better. I wish it would have just ended there so we wouldn't have to listen to stories of soldiers dying and wonder who's safe.
Maybe I'm naive. But I still believe. I believe we're all in His hands and everyone will have to give an account for what they've done.
While the Nations Rage
Why do the nations rage?
Why do they plot and scheme?
Their bullets can't stop the prayers we pray
In the name of the Prince of Peace
We walk in faith and remember long ago
How they killed Him and then how on the third day He arose
Well, things may look bad
And things may look grim
But all these things must pass except the things that are of Him
Where are the nails that pierced His hands?
Well the nails have turned to rust
But behold the Man
He is risen
And He reigns
In the hearts of the children
Rising up in His name
Where are the thorns that drew His blood?
Well, the thorns have turned to dust
But not so the love
He has given
No, it remains
In the hearts of the children
Who will love while the nations rage
The Lord in Heaven laughs
He knows what is to come
While all the chiefs of state plan their big attacks
Against His anointed One
The Church of God she will not bend her knees
To the gods of this world though they promise her peace
She stands her ground
Stands firm on the Rock
Watch their walls tumble down when she lives out His love
Where are the nails...
I went home and listened to "While the Nations Rage" by Rich Mullins, over and over and over.
And I know that people remember that moment like it was frozen in time, but I don't really get it. Maybe because I didn't get it then, either. The impact. I was 19. Maybe I still don't get it, though.
I like to remember, and I'm so proud of our country and how we all pulled together and stood united. I wish it happened more often, but in this day and age it just won't.
I remember seeing the flags at half-mass. and the patriotic sentiments we all shared.
I remember the news that came through over the next weeks.
I remember feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of disaster.
But I never felt unsafe. And I never wondered "why" it happened. And I'm so glad it isn't our job to save the world, because look at what a disaster we've made of it.
It's tragic. I think about it often, too. Those burning towers and the lives that were lost. All of the sadness and sorrow and pain. And I wish that I understood better. I wish it would have just ended there so we wouldn't have to listen to stories of soldiers dying and wonder who's safe.
Maybe I'm naive. But I still believe. I believe we're all in His hands and everyone will have to give an account for what they've done.
While the Nations Rage
Why do the nations rage?
Why do they plot and scheme?
Their bullets can't stop the prayers we pray
In the name of the Prince of Peace
We walk in faith and remember long ago
How they killed Him and then how on the third day He arose
Well, things may look bad
And things may look grim
But all these things must pass except the things that are of Him
Where are the nails that pierced His hands?
Well the nails have turned to rust
But behold the Man
He is risen
And He reigns
In the hearts of the children
Rising up in His name
Where are the thorns that drew His blood?
Well, the thorns have turned to dust
But not so the love
He has given
No, it remains
In the hearts of the children
Who will love while the nations rage
The Lord in Heaven laughs
He knows what is to come
While all the chiefs of state plan their big attacks
Against His anointed One
The Church of God she will not bend her knees
To the gods of this world though they promise her peace
She stands her ground
Stands firm on the Rock
Watch their walls tumble down when she lives out His love
Where are the nails...
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