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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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...

what's the DEAL

Angsty venting coming right up!

Here's the problem I'm having lately. I don't fit into boxes. And it's driving me nuts. I don't like being boxed in, but it seems like that's the only way people will accept me. I've made an art out of being mediocre, but some how that doesn't work when I pull from all kinds of different boxes and make my own outfit up. And yet, I still look like everyone else, and I obviously don't stick out enough for anyone to notice me or think I have anything to offer the general population.
This doesn't make any sense. All I'm saying is, I wish people wouldn't decide who I am just because of some box I happen to be pulling stuff out of. I've got talents you'll never see. I'm way smarter than I get credit for. And, I suck at plenty of things that people think I'm good at. Seriously.

I'm just in a bad mood. Feeling so sarcastic. most of the time I can reign it in--keep my mouth shut when I want to make a snide remark. I'm SO funny in my head, but I try so hard not to be mean. And usually it works, but today I just want to GO OFF on someone or something and let the whole world know how annoyed I am. But, this blog isn't anonymous enough to actually be explicit in the real things that are bothering me, s oI'm just going to whine about these vague things.
I need to shut up and go to bed. but I drank a chai tea and now I'm buzzed.
And, I really want some guacamole.

More from the Lesser World

Today we went into the new church building and saw all of the people we've always seen, in fact more than usual. There's a wide open area where people can mingle. They call it Main Street.
In the service I looked around at all the usual faces, spread out further, harder to see. but still happy.
The first time i went in there, the greeter at the door was our late senior pastor's wife, who still attends with her new husband Richard. and it hit me. It was a little taste of heaven. Not because it was the most amazing building ever made or anything, but just because. One day we'll leave these shadows and find ourselves in the light, in the truest forms of what was represented on earth like Plato said. Sort of like leaving behind the old building with all of its fond memories and leaky pipes and broken tiles and flashy flourescent lights, walking into the splendor of newness. Instead of just seeing faces of the other people from church, it will be the Church of every age, all of those witnesses who went before us.
And there we'll see all of these faces of people--ones who we knew on the lesser world, whose flaws and moles and dark secrets are washed away, clothed in white. And the smiles will be real, and we'll be surrounded by unspeakable beauty and wonder, too vast to explore, more creative than we ever could create, more magical than we ever imagined.
And I think Pastor Ray (along with thousands of other amazing people we knew on earth) will be there at the door, smiling, giving hugs and saying, "Welcome home!"

Facebook, bane of banes.

Reasons I would like to quit facebook:

Waste of time. Hours lost. Hours.
Frivolous. If I could guarantee that people would only post something interesting I wouldn't mind reading everyone's posts. I'm sorry. I don't CARE where you're eating supper, unless you're inviting me to join you.
Big Brother. Too many details. Too many pictures. The Man can get whatever he needs to bring you down, baby.
People I don't Know that well. Did you have to friend me? Now I'm in a moral delima. We were in a wedding together and we'll probably never talk again. But if I ignore you now, you might be offended.
People I know well. But, what are we going to talk about now that you already told me that on facebook?
Yes, No or Maybe. I don't know if people used to be allowed to RSVP with maybe. But now that they can, it really puts a dent in planning things when everyone's holding off on their real answer to make sure there's nothing better happening that night.
Time suck. Oh, did I mention that? Why can't I keep away? Why can't I just be OK with not reading everyone's updates. Because, WHAT IF I MISS SOMETHING IMPORTANT. And that takes me back to the real life thing. Someone ASSUMES I know they're pregnant because they announced it on facebook, but I didn't happen to read all of those posts that day. Now I missed it and she's six months along and I'm still too afraid to ask for sure.
Misunderstandings. I guess some people just don't "get" me. Or, maybe having a platform to sound off any rash opinion i happen to have isn't the best thing for me. I don't know. But I don't like offending people, either way.
"Pass it on"s. OH THEYRE SO STUPID. QUIT. It's not helping anyone to post a little blurb about how great your second cousin is or why we should care more about soldiers. Maybe, we should just go and volunteer in the community.
Scams, especially the video sorts. I didn't really want to even see the title of that in my news feed. And really, if you haven't figured out by now that your seventy-year-old next door neighbor isn't the sort who would post a nasty video of Miley that isn't actually a video, then you shouldn't be on facebook anyway. Get your minds out of the gutter.


Reasons I can't talk myself into quitting facebook:

Friends. I don't want to miss what's happening. And secretly, I'm afraid they won't tell me if they put it on facebook because they expect me to just read it.
Long-distance friends. The people I never get to see but occasionally wonder how they're doing, what they're up to.
Family. It's pretty much the only way I stay in contact with my cousins.
Easy contact. I don't have to keep addresses on file. I can just facebook them!
Coupon blogs. They go in my news feed so I don't have to remember to check them every day. I've probably saved myself $10 by now.
Games. Not gonna lie. Sometimes I need a boggle fix, and I need it NOW.
The Happenings. I'm actually guilty of forgetting to invite a non-facebook friend to an event, because I invited everyone else via facebook., I don't want to be that person.
My window to the outside world. There are people who, let's face it, aren't ever going to actually talk to me in real life. but, they happen to be my facebook friend so I can see what's going on in those circles without ever having to be social. And, that's really the ultimate reason. I don't want to have to expend effort to talk to people. Sitting here on my butt, in the comfort of my own home, with Star Trek playing in the background, is so much easier than going OUT to a place and TALKING with my voice, to people whose comments require an immediate response. I'm funnier online, when I have time to think about it first. And that's the honest truth.

It's Not OK to Have Opinions Anymore

This is a personal rant, from my heart. Because I'm tired of "Discussing" things with defensive people who have chips on their shoulders that turn into "issues" that aren't even really issues. I don't have a specific person in mind here. Just the whole world. Except, of course, whoever agrees with me. ;)

Don't blow your personal pain out of proportion, thinking the whole world must fit into your box. We're all coming from different places in life.
Don't think, because you're more angry/passionate/vocal that I'm wrong.
Don't turn your inadequacies into problems with society. Maybe you just have a weakness. It's OK. we all do.
Don't discount me just because you don't like how I said something. Maybe my weakness is not saying things right.
Don't discredit my opinion. I didn't discredit yours automatically by disagreeing. didn't we already learn the difference between fact and opinion?
Don't call me close-minded. Some day we'll see who's right and wrong and I'm sure we'll both lie in both categories.
Don't think I don't care about you.
Don't attack my personal beliefs.
It's an opinion. If you didn't watn to discuss it, you shouldn't have brought it up.

Sad fruitful, Broken, True

Yesterday was a long goodbye for me. It was strange, too, because it wasn't like most goodbyes, where you know you'll see each other again, or you at least get to hear some parting words. And it wasn't like a death, either, where you're left wishing for something more, for one last moment together.
I guess that's my fault. Since I was saying goodbye to a building. I know, it sounds ridiculous. We're getting a new church building. THe pastor's been saying all along, "it isn't that we're getting a new church. The church is the people. We're just moving to a new building." And it's an amazingly huge, brand new facility that was paid for by our congregation, and it will serve so many people and I'm excited for what will happen.
But. Goodbye is still goodbye.
Because, when I was fifteen years old, I found this sort of home at our church. We'd visited so many other places, and it was the first one I went to where I felt like I could belong. I was impressed by so many things. Mostly, the welcoming faces and the warmth. I was a visitor, but they never assumed I would stop coming. They just kept inviting me along for whatever they were doing.
I grew there, spiritually and physically, and romantically.
I fell in love there. I mean, literally. My first glimpse of Daniel in person was there. After we'd emailed for six months, he showed up, fresh off the plane from Russia. This smiling face with a bounce in his step, and I think it was maybe love at first sight. There in the church's front lawn, under the oak tree that still stands there.
We said "I love you" to each other outside of the youth room.
We danced and sang in the church musicals together.
He proposed to me the night he was baptized, there in the church gym.
And of course we were married there.
But it wasn't just him. It's a hundred other friends and family members, people who have watched me grow and who love me and care about me. And they'll all be there when we go to the new building.
But those old tile floors and the lockers on the wall have seen so much of me. And I'll miss the comfort of a place like that, where I know all of the nooks and crannies. Where I taught kids classes and sang in choir. Is it stupid to miss a church building? It might be. Because really, it's just a shell of a place. a kind of backdrop for what really matters. And the same things will keep happening as we move on. The same people will smile and open doors and greet and take offering and teach my kids. But I'll miss that place all the same. Not because I love it, but I love the memories and the people who are part of it.
And I think everyone has a place or two like that, filled with memories that only you really appreciate. Maybe high school or a best friend's house or your grandparent's house. Or your own house. I think about places like that, and wonder why people say home is a feeling. Because it is, but it's also a place. Or two or three.

I have this song on CD by Sara Groves. I always wish I could write like her when I hear her music. And this song, The House, sort of says what I'm thinking today about that church building. Like the hull of a seed, that old church cracked wide open...

The House

it took me by surprise
this old house and these old feelings
walked round and looked inside
familiar walls and halls and ceilings

where I'd dream and plan
every moment of sunshine
this was my whole world
it was all I knew
like the hull of a seed
this old house cracked wide open
as I grew

hadn't given it much thought
hadn't been back here for a while
everything looks so small
seen through the memories of a child

who would dream and stare
from that second story window
that was my whole world
it was all I knew
like the hull the of a seed
this old house cracked wide open
and I flew

sad fruitful broken true
sad fruitful broken true

memories for miles and miles
summers falls winters and springs
Ruby you take it in
see he's withheld no good thing