bella has *intersession* this week.where she now goes to school year-round, their breaks are longer than the *normal kids*. next week is official fall break and this week they had the option of attending a special *theme week* at school, in lieu of just playing around the house and getting into mischief. of course i'm a hands-on kind of mom, and immediately asked where i could sign up for THAT, yes that. some of that, please.
heh.
so their theme week is all about water. monday, she got to go to the ripleys aquarium in gatlinburg. it was kind of a big deal, considering its 2 hours away. and for the past month, that's all we've heard about. what i found hilarious, tho, was when our kids all rolled up in their big fancy charter buses at the end of the day, the first thing you heard from 60 little voices had nothing to do with water or how cool the shark tanks were. instead, it was:
MOM. they had tv's on the bus! with the disney channel.
score one for education there.
what i surmised from bella's descriptive recount on the way home, was that the bus also had a bathroom and, oh yah, at the aquarium, jim made the *call me* sign to the diver in the tank and she made the *come here* sign with her finger crooked like this and so he did and then she blew him a kiss. also, on the way back home, she and carlos got into a discussion about nursing sharks being bigger than their heads which was obviously so funny and i just didn't get it.
tuesday, they got to go on a pretend *desert trek* in search of water. they also learned the importance of water conservation and began building their own wishing wells. bella came home with an assignment to write down how many things she did last night that were water related. what foods she ate, that had water in them, etc... but what bella remembers most about yesterday? that her best friend randi told everyone what color underwear she was wearing because she saw up her skirt when bella went down the slide upside down and that jim's big brother hit her on the butt with his lunchbox and she gave him a look like THIS.
so tonite, when jason called me at work to let bella say goodnight, i wondered what tall tales she'd have to share. they were scheduled to visit a large state park today and see how a water treatment plant worked and then visit a fish hatchery. unfortunately, it rained all day, so their plans were kind of, ahem, drowned out.
our conversation went down like this:
hey mama
hey baby, whatcha doin.
oh nothin. playin' with runtz. daddy's makin me go to BED. and i haven't even seen all the muppet wizard of oz. but he said he was tapin' it so we could all watch it.
well its that time, no?
:long dramatic sigh: yaaaaah. i guess.
so did you have fun today?
oh mama, it rained. so we couldn't go to the park.
yah, i saw that. i'm sorry. what'd you do instead.
welllll we watched a movie and had lunch and then we played in the gym and you know what? randi wanted to look in my lunchbox today and she saw my granola bar and asked if she could have it and i said no cuz we're not 'posed to swap but she said please and i said no but then i said it was ok, cuz mama? i kind of didn't want that anyway. but i told her only if she promises not to eat it at school and then guess what, she was eatin it right there watching the movie. yah. and it was chicken run. oh and you know what? i'm never gonna trust her again EVER with my secrets because i told her i have crush on luke and then she told EVERYBODY and then luke was running from me all day long.
why was he running from you?
cuz i was chasin him.
ahhh. well you know what would be the cool thing to do?
what
tomorrow, just act like it never even happened. like you never said such a thing. and then he'll forget all about it. and especially don't chase him.
yah. thats probably good. oh. and mama? when nana picked me up, i asked if i could have a i-dog cuz they have them at burger king, ya know it? i saw it on the commercial. and she asked me if i was hungry and i said i could probably eat. so the i-dog? it has a paper costume and his nose lights up. yah. cool, huh? and i had chicken nuggets and fries and a chocolate milk. is that ok? because actually i was kinda hungry because i had no snack for the movie cuz randi was eating my granola bar and i had a big whoppin nothin. yah, nothin. i was starved, i tell ya.
hmm. maybe you should keep your granola bar next time, yah? soooo what did you learn about water today.
uh, mama. hello? it rained. we couldn't do nothin about water. kind of a bummer, huh?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
the foot of the matter
today, my devotion out of God Calling reads:
Jesus, the very thought of You, with Sweetness, fills us.
Yes. Love Me until just to think of Me means Joy and rapture. Gladness at the thought ofOne very near and dear. It is the balm for all your sorrows, the thought of Me. Healing for all physical, mental, and spiritual ills you can always find in thinking of Me, and speaking to Me. Are doubts and fears in your Hearts? Then think of Me, speak to Me. Instead of those fears and doubts there will flow into your hearts and beings such sweet Joy as is beyond any joy of earth.
This is unfailing. Never doubt it. Courage. Courage. Courage. Fear nothing.Rejoice even in your darkest places.
what a blessing that is, on this rainy day. what an encouragement. and logging on to my computer this morning, i'm reminded also, of the blessing this outlet of the internet provides me as well. such a gentle minister to my spirit, especially on darker days.
making me think about throwing rocks at the proverbial squirrels in our lives
being reminded of the times when we feel most alone, that God is saying:
Sometimes I lead you up a high mountain with only My hand to support you. The higher you climb, the more spectacular the view becomes; also, the more keenly you sense your separation from the world with all its problems. This frees you to experience exuberantly the joyous reality of my Presence. Give yourself fully to these Glory-moments, awash in dazzling Light. I will eventually lead you down the mountain. back into the community with others. Let My Light continue to shine within you as your walk among people again.
2 Corinthians 3:7; Psalm 96:6; John 8:12
thinking, in depth, of greener pastures.
How often after we turned “green” do we go back to our “stuff” Broken dreams, dashed hopes, failed marriage, bankrupt, vacant, empty, depressed, sad, incomplete, tired, worn out, exhausted, burnt out, angry, frustrated, crushed, disappointed, trapped, closed in.
David makes a very simple, but profound observation here.
God gives Life.
Not ordinary life but renewed life.
again and again over the past few years, i've come back to this place of humbling in my life. for some reason, i must be a pretty tough cookie to crumble. me? stubborn? ha!
so God bends just a little more. and just a little more. he bends me, yet doesn't break me. and i've done my share of grumbling in the process. its not always been so easy for me to rejoice in those moments.
one of my greatest heroes is julia butterfly hill. i have always loved a particular excerpt from a log of her first 100 days on top of a giant redwood named luna . even tho she felt this answer from a tree that had become her heart and voice and home, i feel it as much, Gods voice.
"think of the trees in the storm. trees don’t try and stand up straight and tall and erect, they allow themselves to be blown with the wind. If they don’t, they snap and fall. allow yourself to be blown with the wind. understand the power of letting go. do what it takes, allow yourself to blow with the wind, and know that I’m going to hold us up. Now is not the time for you to be strong. I’ll hold us up and we’ll make it through."
today i love the song "you're not alone" by meredith andrews.
my job with the state, is with an organization that provides health-care, occupational and physical therapy and residential services to adults with mental retardation. it has been a beautiful yet heartbreaking journey, at times. and it has been a great source of grief for me lately. i suddenly find myself on a teetering edge of unknown, as tho the rugs' been pulled out from under me. and while i feel this is all a part of the road God needs me to walk alone, set aside, it doesn't make it any easier to process.
some days feel relentless.
i work long shifts, caring for 2 women in their home. you'll remember ebb and flow. for reasons unknown to any of us, really, flow seems enamored with me. i've seen this tiny woman fly into rages of unbelievable proportions with more staff than i care to acknowledge. flow has also, never once, done so to me. i am the one preferred staff she turns to. i am the one person they call when nothing else works. and i don't know what it is, this magical
thread that connects us. but i love her more than mere words could ever convey.
on the verge of these changes, tho, with the job, and in my own life as well , i find that my job has shifted. that i have provided her with the best care i could give. that i have comforted her in her storms. but i am now inadvertently forced to step slowly away and watch her confusion head-on, full-throttle. i'm still there. but for circumstances beyond my control, i'm forced to realize that i can't be that person to hold her hand. that i can and will always love her. always champion her. always have her best interest at heart. but tho i am close, so close, i have to do so from afar.
i wonder, sometimes, if thats how God feels about us.
as a diabetic, one of flows most important needs, is that of proper footcare. she cries and screams, will hit and kick and bite, over someone tending to her feet. but for some reason, she does none of these things with me. always careful to approach the subject gently with her, i've somehow always managed to sucessfully work on them, without incident. staff and managers alike have asked me what the secret is. but the truth is, i have none. i just love her. and so i wash her feet.
we had a great service a few months back, about feet. and you know me and feet. i was intrigued, to say the least, when i spotted the sermon title. i found the praise and worship portion just a tad long that morning, wanting to get to the good stuff. :)
we spent that hour in john 13, where there's the story of Jesus washing the disciples' feet.
that's always got me. right about here. that He chose to do the lowliest of things. to humble Himself in that way, in effort to show His love for them. for us.
if you think about it, feet are possibly, who am i kidding, the nastiest, dirtiest portion of our bodies, with the exception of the words that can come out of our mouths. sometimes, even now, God washes my feet. and i wish i could say that i always sit there appreciative over that humbled gesture. without incident. but i don't. sometimes, i fall way short.
but how awesome is it, to have a God who doesn't hesitate to love us. to tend to our hearts and hurts. to our very brokenness. to hold our hands.
to wash our feet.
Jesus, the very thought of You, with Sweetness, fills us.
Yes. Love Me until just to think of Me means Joy and rapture. Gladness at the thought ofOne very near and dear. It is the balm for all your sorrows, the thought of Me. Healing for all physical, mental, and spiritual ills you can always find in thinking of Me, and speaking to Me. Are doubts and fears in your Hearts? Then think of Me, speak to Me. Instead of those fears and doubts there will flow into your hearts and beings such sweet Joy as is beyond any joy of earth.
This is unfailing. Never doubt it. Courage. Courage. Courage. Fear nothing.Rejoice even in your darkest places.
what a blessing that is, on this rainy day. what an encouragement. and logging on to my computer this morning, i'm reminded also, of the blessing this outlet of the internet provides me as well. such a gentle minister to my spirit, especially on darker days.
making me think about throwing rocks at the proverbial squirrels in our lives
being reminded of the times when we feel most alone, that God is saying:
Sometimes I lead you up a high mountain with only My hand to support you. The higher you climb, the more spectacular the view becomes; also, the more keenly you sense your separation from the world with all its problems. This frees you to experience exuberantly the joyous reality of my Presence. Give yourself fully to these Glory-moments, awash in dazzling Light. I will eventually lead you down the mountain. back into the community with others. Let My Light continue to shine within you as your walk among people again.
2 Corinthians 3:7; Psalm 96:6; John 8:12
thinking, in depth, of greener pastures.
How often after we turned “green” do we go back to our “stuff” Broken dreams, dashed hopes, failed marriage, bankrupt, vacant, empty, depressed, sad, incomplete, tired, worn out, exhausted, burnt out, angry, frustrated, crushed, disappointed, trapped, closed in.
David makes a very simple, but profound observation here.
God gives Life.
Not ordinary life but renewed life.
again and again over the past few years, i've come back to this place of humbling in my life. for some reason, i must be a pretty tough cookie to crumble. me? stubborn? ha!
so God bends just a little more. and just a little more. he bends me, yet doesn't break me. and i've done my share of grumbling in the process. its not always been so easy for me to rejoice in those moments.
one of my greatest heroes is julia butterfly hill. i have always loved a particular excerpt from a log of her first 100 days on top of a giant redwood named luna . even tho she felt this answer from a tree that had become her heart and voice and home, i feel it as much, Gods voice.
"think of the trees in the storm. trees don’t try and stand up straight and tall and erect, they allow themselves to be blown with the wind. If they don’t, they snap and fall. allow yourself to be blown with the wind. understand the power of letting go. do what it takes, allow yourself to blow with the wind, and know that I’m going to hold us up. Now is not the time for you to be strong. I’ll hold us up and we’ll make it through."
today i love the song "you're not alone" by meredith andrews.
my job with the state, is with an organization that provides health-care, occupational and physical therapy and residential services to adults with mental retardation. it has been a beautiful yet heartbreaking journey, at times. and it has been a great source of grief for me lately. i suddenly find myself on a teetering edge of unknown, as tho the rugs' been pulled out from under me. and while i feel this is all a part of the road God needs me to walk alone, set aside, it doesn't make it any easier to process.
some days feel relentless.
i work long shifts, caring for 2 women in their home. you'll remember ebb and flow. for reasons unknown to any of us, really, flow seems enamored with me. i've seen this tiny woman fly into rages of unbelievable proportions with more staff than i care to acknowledge. flow has also, never once, done so to me. i am the one preferred staff she turns to. i am the one person they call when nothing else works. and i don't know what it is, this magical
thread that connects us. but i love her more than mere words could ever convey.
on the verge of these changes, tho, with the job, and in my own life as well , i find that my job has shifted. that i have provided her with the best care i could give. that i have comforted her in her storms. but i am now inadvertently forced to step slowly away and watch her confusion head-on, full-throttle. i'm still there. but for circumstances beyond my control, i'm forced to realize that i can't be that person to hold her hand. that i can and will always love her. always champion her. always have her best interest at heart. but tho i am close, so close, i have to do so from afar.
i wonder, sometimes, if thats how God feels about us.
as a diabetic, one of flows most important needs, is that of proper footcare. she cries and screams, will hit and kick and bite, over someone tending to her feet. but for some reason, she does none of these things with me. always careful to approach the subject gently with her, i've somehow always managed to sucessfully work on them, without incident. staff and managers alike have asked me what the secret is. but the truth is, i have none. i just love her. and so i wash her feet.
we had a great service a few months back, about feet. and you know me and feet. i was intrigued, to say the least, when i spotted the sermon title. i found the praise and worship portion just a tad long that morning, wanting to get to the good stuff. :)
we spent that hour in john 13, where there's the story of Jesus washing the disciples' feet.
that's always got me. right about here. that He chose to do the lowliest of things. to humble Himself in that way, in effort to show His love for them. for us.
if you think about it, feet are possibly, who am i kidding, the nastiest, dirtiest portion of our bodies, with the exception of the words that can come out of our mouths. sometimes, even now, God washes my feet. and i wish i could say that i always sit there appreciative over that humbled gesture. without incident. but i don't. sometimes, i fall way short.
but how awesome is it, to have a God who doesn't hesitate to love us. to tend to our hearts and hurts. to our very brokenness. to hold our hands.
to wash our feet.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
through the looking glass
what am i doing tonight? nothing. and i like it that way. that's how i roll. i'm frazzled and i'm too tired of wallowing in my perpetual cesspool of gloom. so i'm gonna lay it to ya real, today. bella is in intersession this week, jasons' brakes went out on his car, the chihuahua has fleas and i'm out of caffeine. today is my day off, so i'm sitting in my pj's, about to get into m'blogs, m'peeps. but i have this great idea, first. and no, i promise i'm not gonna drag you along to the thrift store with me.
i think we should all get to know one another better. and because i'm a trend setter, because i am cool like this, i'm going to share a few random bits about me and life in general, this morning. things i feel you should know. also, i'd find it fantastic if you'd join my cheerleading team over there on the right.
oh. and you're all, every one of you, tagged.
so lets get started.
*d'you know there's literally nothing tasty you can ever do with beets, ever? whoever heard of tasty beets anyway. seriously, google it. it'll come up "ewwwww. go stab your eye with a rusty spoon now. whats wrong with you".
*my favorite pet post-pregnancy 8 year old hemmoroid is flaring up, friends. tmi, you say? perhaps. but if i'm a little grumpy from time to time, now you'll know why.
people. shave. your. toe. hair.
aaaaanywhoo. my dad wore like a size 16 shoe and i hated his feet and i always hoped i would have pretty feet, which, for the most part, turned out ok, tho i wear like a ginormous size 9 or 10, surprisingly mammoth for how short i actually turned out. and. i have weird little square toes. really awkward to paint.....
but i digress. the point is, i LOVE my feet but i haven't taken CARE of my feets. let this be a lesson. i've spent the vast majority of my adulthood either barefoot, in flip-flops, or standing on concrete floors for 10 - 12 hour shifts.
don't do that.
my 20's feet were fab. my 30's feet, not so much. lets just say we're not bff's anymore. 'totally not taking them to prom in stilettos. sometimes they hurt so bad i want to cry. and sometimes, i do, secretly. sometimes, in the morning, i hobble around just like my grandma and i curse those genes that also provided me with a carbon copy of my aunt cheryl's butt.
nice one, God. way to share the love. rock on, with your bad Self.
i have a very real, authentic, even justified fear, that sooner than i want, i will require surgery on said feet. which is kinda a bummer now that i've decided to go back to school. but don't worry, i'm a whiner, so i'll keep you posted.
*my mother brought up the subject of blogs the other night and freaked me the crap, out. i said something cool and largely to the extent of :
"hahaha. wow. that's cool. blogs. whoa. what're those. hahaha. whoa. some crazy new blizzard at dq? these kids today...."
lets just say there are a few subjects i may write about but not neccesarily publish around these parts. for this very reason. because she claims to be all technologically challenged, but how do i know this, 1200 miles away. this is the same woman that not so long ago, admitted to watching LA Ink "on the cable" and that "that little kat von d is so cute". yah. i know. also, she's just recently started calling me kat. which is endearing but also, just so weird. because she's always called me katherine. i think she's trying to be hip. so now she's got me all paranoid that she's secretly reading my blog and building up a case against me. and all because my sister dropped the bomb that she'd started one but she "wasn't giving mom the http://, so phbbbbt."
eesh. way to dangle a carrot, kim. like i need this aggravation. i'm thinking of slapping a disclaimer up there on the side and then gettin' dirty 'round these parts.
*my ears are guaged. and i can never remember the size. i think 5/8" but i don't keep up with these details, which would kinda stink if i actually bought body jewelry on a regular basis. but thankfully, i'm a low maintennance kind of gal. i know i can stick my pinky finger thru them. which, incidentally, is a fun party trick at your inlaws bbq or your kids vbs. i've been pierced a total of 17 x's and this always amazes people because you'd never know it. i was never a *metal face* as the kids say. but i enjoyed my brief stint in body modification. and no, i have no deeper meaning as to the "why" other than it meant and means something to me.
currently, i wear only a nose ring and my plugs. its interesting, tho, when people notice these things, because to me, as with my tattoos, they're just a part of me. i started guaging my ears the year bella was born. my m-i-l just discovered this only a month ago, and, i'm sure, is currently rethinking her adoration. i think my own mom still doesn't know. i think that they think i just wore/wear big round clip-ons. viva la '80's.
*my favorite super-hero's are always either of the human kind, or animations of the pixar variety. sure, there's that soft spot i'll always hold sacred for my first love, spider-man. but my new favoritest hero is wall-e.
* speaking of the '80's, did any of you ever do one of those season color palette parties? 'remember those? they were like tupperware parties, and all the rage. you could find out if you were a *spring* or a *winter*. good times.
* my favorite word of the week is *smite*. as in, the lord hath smited me, one too many times. or my daughter has smited me by giving me such a grand new batch of grey hair today. or that jive turkey in the turning lane that cut in front of me hath smited me.
brain, nasal cavity, whatever. you get the point. its all going in the same direction. directly up there and probably shifting towards the left. why not.
anyway, they pulled them down, pulled my wisdom teeth out, and once the swelling had gone down, some 17 months later, slapped braces on me for 2 years with a night plate thrown in for good behavior.
but here's the kicker. to date, i've not been to the dentist in 12 years. oh i know. floss me now. you can call me gross, i don't care. i actually am pretty anal about my teeth, tho anal and teeth doesn't neccesarily a pretty sentence, make. i floss and brush regularly, thank you. twice a day even. with vigor. i don't have stains on my teeth and my teeth are not yellow, unless i stand next to someone reaaalllly tan. i also do not have stank breath, aside from when i partake of german food or my annual reuben. but see, i have this phobia that if/when i actually go for a checkup and a long over-do *cleaning* that they're gonna totally screw up the good i've got going and i'll be in dentures by 35. also, until i can justify the co-pay and not feel obscenely guilty that that $35 could be filling my tank with gas? not. gonna. happen.
oddly enough, i'm obsessive about my child's teeth and proper dental visits. weird.
*i cannot stand the feeling of peach fuzz or anything remotely paper/tissue-like on my tongue. tongue depressors? nuh-uh. and those little paper sticks holding up your dum-dums? i gag if my tongue actually makes connection with one. i have this irrational fear that someone is going to jump me in some obscure rest stop bathroom some day. probably in arizona~go with me on this~its my paranoia. anyway, they're going to then randomly pick my stall, stuff my mouth with toilet paper, and i'm totally going to die from just the sensation of something that fiber-ous in my mouth.
*i like to think i can talk all gangsta. except my gangsta comes out like *gangster*. which kind of defeats my purpose. viva la enunciation. but i'm cute, in a chubby chipmunk kind of way, which totally makes up for it.
word to your mother.
*frank, the wonder weiner dog has found a new home. and tho i miss his soft tummy and beautiful face and stinky kisses, our home has been soooo much more calm, and my soiled and tattered sanity has perked up by miles. good decision.
*i have a secret affection for printed tees. oh, i know. i know. its all so last year. but i can't help myself.
*so we were watching jon stewarts interview with with bill maher, the other night. he was pounding the publicity circuit for his new bit, titled "religulous" ~ his comedic attack on religious fundamentalism. and i have to say i was really, incredibly dissapointed, ya know? i've always been a fan of mahers. he's not, what i'd call a *subscriber* to the pc aspect and tho i may argue with my sister about just such things, i do secretly admire a person not afraid to throw their opinion out there.
i don't know how many of you will admit to watching mahers "real time" but i was always a fan of the round table setup, much in the same way i always got a special kind of joy from watching dennis millers' rants. i'm all for the spoofs, the sattire, and mixing it up a little. making people think. but i start to get aggravated when certain things don't seem sacred anymore. and maybe thats not fair. maybe thats a double-standard. i dunno.
i know you could argue, and maher certainly attempts to convey, that religion HAS become just this big joke in the world of politics. which wouldn't neccesarily be a lie. it has , in my opionion, become this big word with "connotations" for them to hide behind, when the guys up on the hill don't have the answers. anyway, they dissected a scene from a road trip through rural North Carolina, where Maher pauses at a tiny truck-stop chapel for some good-natured joshing with the congregation. Whereas he says *religion* sells "an invisible product," Maher explains to them, he's peddling doubt. and i just thought he got a little too personal, thats what i'm saying.
my opinion. just mine.
*i am secretly concerned that i know more about foreign policy than sarah palin.
*i think you should always make a spare key. always. so you don't end up crawling thru the window and getting stuck, halfway through, while the dog cruelly laughs at you from the bed. remind me to tell you that story sometime.
*when i walk by blankets, pillows, towels in stores, i have to touch/squeeze them for the softness factor. also, i'm obsessed with pillows. i have 10 on my bed. 10, count em. jason secretly loves this. he just doesn't know it yet.
*i can never remember anyone's birthday. never. and i always feel terrible when i realize i have. i feel i have personally mastered the *belated* section at hallmark.
*someday, i want to learn how to roller-skate/ice-skate. but i'm also deathly afraid of the ground not being underneath me. thats kinda why my pilots license and marine biology quests were a flop.
*3 things you should listen to: the ocean, the wind and the trees
* these are borrowed terms i wouldn't mind describing me too:
a gem. devoted. soul/spirit/earth sister,daughter,friend & mother. awakening. opening my heart. practicing. expanding. grounded. creator. healer. artist. writer. minister to hurts. lover of learning and lists, the color green and wild flowers. joyful. divine. delighted. connected. in awe. bold. curious. open. colorful. full of life. tender. soft. scrumptious.
i think we should all get to know one another better. and because i'm a trend setter, because i am cool like this, i'm going to share a few random bits about me and life in general, this morning. things i feel you should know. also, i'd find it fantastic if you'd join my cheerleading team over there on the right.
oh. and you're all, every one of you, tagged.
so lets get started.
*d'you know there's literally nothing tasty you can ever do with beets, ever? whoever heard of tasty beets anyway. seriously, google it. it'll come up "ewwwww. go stab your eye with a rusty spoon now. whats wrong with you".
*my favorite pet post-pregnancy 8 year old hemmoroid is flaring up, friends. tmi, you say? perhaps. but if i'm a little grumpy from time to time, now you'll know why.
hey. i'm a giver.
*my feet hurt. all the time. they never used to. it started about 6 months ago & i'm gonna go with the thought that my extra gut/spare tire/excessive boobage and trunkage doesn't neccesarily help my cause, but mostly its hereditary. my birth dad and his mother have horrid feet. also, you should know i have a foot fetish, because of this. and no, not in a weird, gross, freak kind of way. i just appreciate a pretty foot. i remember visiting that side of the family when i was little, and staring a little too long at my grandmothers feet, which were all gnarled and disfigured, as she hobbled around like a wee little hobbit, minus the toe hair. which reminds me. thats a pet peeve.people. shave. your. toe. hair.
aaaaanywhoo. my dad wore like a size 16 shoe and i hated his feet and i always hoped i would have pretty feet, which, for the most part, turned out ok, tho i wear like a ginormous size 9 or 10, surprisingly mammoth for how short i actually turned out. and. i have weird little square toes. really awkward to paint.....
but i digress. the point is, i LOVE my feet but i haven't taken CARE of my feets. let this be a lesson. i've spent the vast majority of my adulthood either barefoot, in flip-flops, or standing on concrete floors for 10 - 12 hour shifts.
don't do that.
my 20's feet were fab. my 30's feet, not so much. lets just say we're not bff's anymore. 'totally not taking them to prom in stilettos. sometimes they hurt so bad i want to cry. and sometimes, i do, secretly. sometimes, in the morning, i hobble around just like my grandma and i curse those genes that also provided me with a carbon copy of my aunt cheryl's butt.
nice one, God. way to share the love. rock on, with your bad Self.
i have a very real, authentic, even justified fear, that sooner than i want, i will require surgery on said feet. which is kinda a bummer now that i've decided to go back to school. but don't worry, i'm a whiner, so i'll keep you posted.
*my mother brought up the subject of blogs the other night and freaked me the crap, out. i said something cool and largely to the extent of :
"hahaha. wow. that's cool. blogs. whoa. what're those. hahaha. whoa. some crazy new blizzard at dq? these kids today...."
lets just say there are a few subjects i may write about but not neccesarily publish around these parts. for this very reason. because she claims to be all technologically challenged, but how do i know this, 1200 miles away. this is the same woman that not so long ago, admitted to watching LA Ink "on the cable" and that "that little kat von d is so cute". yah. i know. also, she's just recently started calling me kat. which is endearing but also, just so weird. because she's always called me katherine. i think she's trying to be hip. so now she's got me all paranoid that she's secretly reading my blog and building up a case against me. and all because my sister dropped the bomb that she'd started one but she "wasn't giving mom the http://, so phbbbbt."
eesh. way to dangle a carrot, kim. like i need this aggravation. i'm thinking of slapping a disclaimer up there on the side and then gettin' dirty 'round these parts.
*my ears are guaged. and i can never remember the size. i think 5/8" but i don't keep up with these details, which would kinda stink if i actually bought body jewelry on a regular basis. but thankfully, i'm a low maintennance kind of gal. i know i can stick my pinky finger thru them. which, incidentally, is a fun party trick at your inlaws bbq or your kids vbs. i've been pierced a total of 17 x's and this always amazes people because you'd never know it. i was never a *metal face* as the kids say. but i enjoyed my brief stint in body modification. and no, i have no deeper meaning as to the "why" other than it meant and means something to me.
currently, i wear only a nose ring and my plugs. its interesting, tho, when people notice these things, because to me, as with my tattoos, they're just a part of me. i started guaging my ears the year bella was born. my m-i-l just discovered this only a month ago, and, i'm sure, is currently rethinking her adoration. i think my own mom still doesn't know. i think that they think i just wore/wear big round clip-ons. viva la '80's.
*my favorite super-hero's are always either of the human kind, or animations of the pixar variety. sure, there's that soft spot i'll always hold sacred for my first love, spider-man. but my new favoritest hero is wall-e.
* speaking of the '80's, did any of you ever do one of those season color palette parties? 'remember those? they were like tupperware parties, and all the rage. you could find out if you were a *spring* or a *winter*. good times.
* my favorite word of the week is *smite*. as in, the lord hath smited me, one too many times. or my daughter has smited me by giving me such a grand new batch of grey hair today. or that jive turkey in the turning lane that cut in front of me hath smited me.
you should try it. its fun.
*speaking of mom....she always told us that people who cussed, didn't have a very intelligent vocabulary. this has always stuck with me. at the same time, i've never professed to being overly intelligent. therefore, i do admit to a sort of compromise on this one. i love words. 'love quotes more. i have a vast collection of song lyrics and poems and bits & pieces of wisdom i've soaked up thru the years. i also tend to wheel & deal my own very special brand of potty mouth. to date, these are some of my most profane words, dug out of my dusty archive of a mind, just for you, on this most sacred of sharing days.cheesy goodness.
sweet nuggets.
bump it.
snap
shblahblah.
jive turkey
shbliggity.
fudge-ripple.
craptastic.
hello fuzzy.
stinkin' heck.
slimey hockeypuck freakin' DURFWAD. (which i totally stole.)
what the foxtrot.
frassin
cheeky monkey
crackin
crusty dragon
feel free to borrow 'em at will, and distribute liberally. rinse, repeat.
brain, nasal cavity, whatever. you get the point. its all going in the same direction. directly up there and probably shifting towards the left. why not.
anyway, they pulled them down, pulled my wisdom teeth out, and once the swelling had gone down, some 17 months later, slapped braces on me for 2 years with a night plate thrown in for good behavior.
but here's the kicker. to date, i've not been to the dentist in 12 years. oh i know. floss me now. you can call me gross, i don't care. i actually am pretty anal about my teeth, tho anal and teeth doesn't neccesarily a pretty sentence, make. i floss and brush regularly, thank you. twice a day even. with vigor. i don't have stains on my teeth and my teeth are not yellow, unless i stand next to someone reaaalllly tan. i also do not have stank breath, aside from when i partake of german food or my annual reuben. but see, i have this phobia that if/when i actually go for a checkup and a long over-do *cleaning* that they're gonna totally screw up the good i've got going and i'll be in dentures by 35. also, until i can justify the co-pay and not feel obscenely guilty that that $35 could be filling my tank with gas? not. gonna. happen.
oddly enough, i'm obsessive about my child's teeth and proper dental visits. weird.
*i cannot stand the feeling of peach fuzz or anything remotely paper/tissue-like on my tongue. tongue depressors? nuh-uh. and those little paper sticks holding up your dum-dums? i gag if my tongue actually makes connection with one. i have this irrational fear that someone is going to jump me in some obscure rest stop bathroom some day. probably in arizona~go with me on this~its my paranoia. anyway, they're going to then randomly pick my stall, stuff my mouth with toilet paper, and i'm totally going to die from just the sensation of something that fiber-ous in my mouth.
*i like to think i can talk all gangsta. except my gangsta comes out like *gangster*. which kind of defeats my purpose. viva la enunciation. but i'm cute, in a chubby chipmunk kind of way, which totally makes up for it.
word to your mother.
*frank, the wonder weiner dog has found a new home. and tho i miss his soft tummy and beautiful face and stinky kisses, our home has been soooo much more calm, and my soiled and tattered sanity has perked up by miles. good decision.
*i have a secret affection for printed tees. oh, i know. i know. its all so last year. but i can't help myself.
*so we were watching jon stewarts interview with with bill maher, the other night. he was pounding the publicity circuit for his new bit, titled "religulous" ~ his comedic attack on religious fundamentalism. and i have to say i was really, incredibly dissapointed, ya know? i've always been a fan of mahers. he's not, what i'd call a *subscriber* to the pc aspect and tho i may argue with my sister about just such things, i do secretly admire a person not afraid to throw their opinion out there.
i don't know how many of you will admit to watching mahers "real time" but i was always a fan of the round table setup, much in the same way i always got a special kind of joy from watching dennis millers' rants. i'm all for the spoofs, the sattire, and mixing it up a little. making people think. but i start to get aggravated when certain things don't seem sacred anymore. and maybe thats not fair. maybe thats a double-standard. i dunno.
i know you could argue, and maher certainly attempts to convey, that religion HAS become just this big joke in the world of politics. which wouldn't neccesarily be a lie. it has , in my opionion, become this big word with "connotations" for them to hide behind, when the guys up on the hill don't have the answers. anyway, they dissected a scene from a road trip through rural North Carolina, where Maher pauses at a tiny truck-stop chapel for some good-natured joshing with the congregation. Whereas he says *religion* sells "an invisible product," Maher explains to them, he's peddling doubt. and i just thought he got a little too personal, thats what i'm saying.
my opinion. just mine.
*i am secretly concerned that i know more about foreign policy than sarah palin.
*i think you should always make a spare key. always. so you don't end up crawling thru the window and getting stuck, halfway through, while the dog cruelly laughs at you from the bed. remind me to tell you that story sometime.
*when i walk by blankets, pillows, towels in stores, i have to touch/squeeze them for the softness factor. also, i'm obsessed with pillows. i have 10 on my bed. 10, count em. jason secretly loves this. he just doesn't know it yet.
*i can never remember anyone's birthday. never. and i always feel terrible when i realize i have. i feel i have personally mastered the *belated* section at hallmark.
*someday, i want to learn how to roller-skate/ice-skate. but i'm also deathly afraid of the ground not being underneath me. thats kinda why my pilots license and marine biology quests were a flop.
*3 things you should listen to: the ocean, the wind and the trees
* these are borrowed terms i wouldn't mind describing me too:
a gem. devoted. soul/spirit/earth sister,daughter,friend & mother. awakening. opening my heart. practicing. expanding. grounded. creator. healer. artist. writer. minister to hurts. lover of learning and lists, the color green and wild flowers. joyful. divine. delighted. connected. in awe. bold. curious. open. colorful. full of life. tender. soft. scrumptious.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
wherein i admit all those manipulating, reverse psychological guilt trips mom gave me as a child, finally paid off.
i saw the most awesome quilt EVER today...you have to go look at it .
speaking of birth, and motherhood, as the 2 tend to go together, it was pointed out to me the other day that i am The Great Manipulator.
score one for mama.
so i had to get up early for a staff meeting tuesday morning and afterwards, spent the better part of my day doing something i haven't done in ages and i love: thrift shopping.
now i'm a weird kind of chickadoo. i've got my favorite hang outs, sure. i am woman, hear me roar. but with the exception of holiday aisles, book stores, yard sales, flea markets or specialty/crafy type stores, i don't really *get* shopping. i'm not a big fan. i'm in, i'm out. but i loves me some thrift stores.
i'm picky about my thrifting tho.
first, i have to be in the mood. one does not feel like digging for treasure thru stacks of junk just any old day. i once embaressed the living crap out of my abundantly patient husband who'd tagged along with me one sad, sorry, of-that-we-dare-not-speak-of saturday to a jc penney's clearance sale. i thought i was being cool like all the other cool moms but ohhhh was i sadly mistaken. you get trapped in there with 50 other women shouting over racks of clothes, pushing and shoving in one gigantic mass advertisement for the upside to lobotomies, and you slowly feel that small sacred thread of sanity loosen itself from your death-grip clasp, then dissapear like a fart in the wind. i literally slid down a wall onto the floor in the ohm position and summoned me some bob marley.
loud. and off-key.
next, my thrift shopping experience has to be, in my mind, cheap. jason thinks i shouldn't use the word *cheap*. that it sounds dirty. like a loose harlot. but these are the breaks, kids. so cheap it is. dirt cheap. so cheap that its almost ridiculous, cheap. like manna from heaven, cheap. like you will pay ME to take your rockin' slate gray with the purple butterfly & softer than old navy's, aeropostle teeshirt, cheap.
which is another shameful tidbit i will now admit to. i am the first mom to step up with an"oh no you dih'unt" at the mere mention of designer labels. you think i don't have rants? i have rants. its not important.... popularity has way more to do with your awesome character than how cute your jeans are, etc....
not to mention that i personally think it borders on retarded to go to the mall and spend $40 on a blouse with nothing more than a 1 inch *ae* splashed in the middle, ok? howEVER.....if i find said teeshirt for 50 cents in the bargain bin at ye old thrift store? glory halleluiah, my friends. glory halleluiah. i or my husband or my child will wear that puppy proudly while i do a secret high-five with the G-man, and fist in the air, mouth
"yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah. i...am allllll that is mom!!!
but let me get to the good stuff.
living in a "historical district", grants you a unique birds eye view into a plethora of over-the-top lifestyles. and i, being this lover of people, this culture afficianado that i am, love this. what we refer to as our 'hood' largely consists of an eccentric hodge-podge of people in the arts... professors...the retired....activists... members of the symphony....your smattering of college kids.....where the yuppies go to plant their gardens.....and more than our share of ye modern day hippies. more living rooms painted red than i care to mention. yes, i look. and all dog lovers. every one of 'em, bless 'em.
so this gigantic, invisible, yet strangely neon sign kind of looms over the tree streets:
go green! reduce-reuse-recycle! begin your compost pile today!
which is all just so great and awesome and something really uber cool that i totally aspire to do some day when i'm not, i dunno, busy. in all fairness, and in effort to thwart a backlash of hate-mail, listen, i care as much as the next guy about preserving this magnificent place most of us call earth. probably even more. and believe it or not, i even have my causes that are near and dear to my heart and that i am staunchly supportive of, and passionate about. i am mother natures' favorite great grandaughter. however. paying monthly, for special plastic tins (hellooo? plastic? can i get a contradiction-in-terms witness, around here??) so the city can come and pick up my nicely seperated garbage is not top on my list of priorities. cast your stones now. i totally get it. while we're at it, i still use cat litter. you know. the bad kind.
why? because its cheap.
anywhoo. this happens to be a great source of aggravation for my child, who cannot fathom, cannot wrap her mind around, why her parents aren't cool like all the other cool parents, from, you know, the cool side of town. she's always harassing me about how important recycling is. how we're not doing enough for our part. and all this, while i'm doing really cool stuff, too, like still cooking with grease and oogling the new dvd kiosks at walmart. have you seen these things? you can now rent movies at walmart for $1/day am i the only one properly amazed by this concept?
i digress.
anyway, my daughter hates to shop. i know, i know. enjoy it now. enjoy it while she doesn't understand the concept of the gap or can recognize a coach bag at 50 paces. i've always harbored this secret hope that she will love thrift stores like me. that she'll *get it*. she'll understand the
concept. she'll make her own clothes. her own style. she'll revel in her unique-ness. she'll sew this and that together like a patchwork quilt and be the grooviest kid because she's her own person.
that and unfortunately we aren't nudists, so we have to wear clothes and they may as well becheap affordable.
so every time we're in the need of something outgrown, i put on my bravest face and channel my Voice Otherwise Reserved for PottyBreaking humans and House-Breaking dogs. something to the extent of: "hey! i have the coolest idea! lets go to ____ and look for JEANS! won't that be FUN? won't we Pee Our Pants With Enthusiasm?? good grrrrrrrrrl!!"
yah. so that goes over like a lead balloon.
every. single. time.
until.
one particular day, Once Upon A Brilliant Time.
i, in typical awesome mom character, rally my troop of one, after school, announcing we are going shopping for pants. pants without holes in the knees and bum and crotch. pants that have not become high water waders. pants that fit, pants. and the resident red-head, in typical bemoaning character, flops around like a dying fish in the backseat, muttering something about torture.
we get there, and i proceed to spend the next 20 minutes feverishly searching thru racks and bins. even my patience is waning thin. but by this point, it has become my mission. my fist-pounding "principle of the matter". we will find pants, so help me and the little baby Jesus, we will find pants.
my child is no help. everything i find remotely suitable, she has some ridiculous rebuke for. things like: "its too tight.... its too loose.... mama? this one has a rip...."
eesh. details.
i had finally reached the end. i could feel it, my sanity, teetering ever so precariously on the edge of oblivion. bella kicks me while i'm down, with a "why do we hafta shop here, anyway."
and like a bloodied, match-weary prize fighter miraculously, against all odds, getting that 2nd wind, i looked my 8 year old in the eye and without so much as a blink, i said:
"because, bella? in this family we recycle."
and as i blazed ahead on that trail of improv passion for our recycling brothers and sisters, my daughter stood there, mouth dropped open. oh i could see the pride and adoration in her face. it was tangible now, as i sang the praises of the lost and forgotten garment. as i raised it up from the proverbial dead and draped it lovingly across her shoulders!!
and when i was finished, an elderly woman nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. as my daughter tackled me in a hug, i became a hero, my friends. a hero.
***********************
i was sharing this little story with my sister yesterday and i could just imagine her own adoration of All That Is Me, her mouth dropped open, in awe and respect.
instead, she laughed. a hearty laugh at that, the little nematoad.
and said, "You. Little. Manipulator."
i have just one thing to say to that: you. aaaaaaare. welcome.
speaking of birth, and motherhood, as the 2 tend to go together, it was pointed out to me the other day that i am The Great Manipulator.
score one for mama.
so i had to get up early for a staff meeting tuesday morning and afterwards, spent the better part of my day doing something i haven't done in ages and i love: thrift shopping.
now i'm a weird kind of chickadoo. i've got my favorite hang outs, sure. i am woman, hear me roar. but with the exception of holiday aisles, book stores, yard sales, flea markets or specialty/crafy type stores, i don't really *get* shopping. i'm not a big fan. i'm in, i'm out. but i loves me some thrift stores.
i'm picky about my thrifting tho.
first, i have to be in the mood. one does not feel like digging for treasure thru stacks of junk just any old day. i once embaressed the living crap out of my abundantly patient husband who'd tagged along with me one sad, sorry, of-that-we-dare-not-speak-of saturday to a jc penney's clearance sale. i thought i was being cool like all the other cool moms but ohhhh was i sadly mistaken. you get trapped in there with 50 other women shouting over racks of clothes, pushing and shoving in one gigantic mass advertisement for the upside to lobotomies, and you slowly feel that small sacred thread of sanity loosen itself from your death-grip clasp, then dissapear like a fart in the wind. i literally slid down a wall onto the floor in the ohm position and summoned me some bob marley.
loud. and off-key.
next, my thrift shopping experience has to be, in my mind, cheap. jason thinks i shouldn't use the word *cheap*. that it sounds dirty. like a loose harlot. but these are the breaks, kids. so cheap it is. dirt cheap. so cheap that its almost ridiculous, cheap. like manna from heaven, cheap. like you will pay ME to take your rockin' slate gray with the purple butterfly & softer than old navy's, aeropostle teeshirt, cheap.
which is another shameful tidbit i will now admit to. i am the first mom to step up with an"oh no you dih'unt" at the mere mention of designer labels. you think i don't have rants? i have rants. its not important.... popularity has way more to do with your awesome character than how cute your jeans are, etc....
not to mention that i personally think it borders on retarded to go to the mall and spend $40 on a blouse with nothing more than a 1 inch *ae* splashed in the middle, ok? howEVER.....if i find said teeshirt for 50 cents in the bargain bin at ye old thrift store? glory halleluiah, my friends. glory halleluiah. i or my husband or my child will wear that puppy proudly while i do a secret high-five with the G-man, and fist in the air, mouth
"yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah. i...am allllll that is mom!!!
but let me get to the good stuff.
living in a "historical district", grants you a unique birds eye view into a plethora of over-the-top lifestyles. and i, being this lover of people, this culture afficianado that i am, love this. what we refer to as our 'hood' largely consists of an eccentric hodge-podge of people in the arts... professors...the retired....activists... members of the symphony....your smattering of college kids.....where the yuppies go to plant their gardens.....and more than our share of ye modern day hippies. more living rooms painted red than i care to mention. yes, i look. and all dog lovers. every one of 'em, bless 'em.
so this gigantic, invisible, yet strangely neon sign kind of looms over the tree streets:
go green! reduce-reuse-recycle! begin your compost pile today!
which is all just so great and awesome and something really uber cool that i totally aspire to do some day when i'm not, i dunno, busy. in all fairness, and in effort to thwart a backlash of hate-mail, listen, i care as much as the next guy about preserving this magnificent place most of us call earth. probably even more. and believe it or not, i even have my causes that are near and dear to my heart and that i am staunchly supportive of, and passionate about. i am mother natures' favorite great grandaughter. however. paying monthly, for special plastic tins (hellooo? plastic? can i get a contradiction-in-terms witness, around here??) so the city can come and pick up my nicely seperated garbage is not top on my list of priorities. cast your stones now. i totally get it. while we're at it, i still use cat litter. you know. the bad kind.
why? because its cheap.
anywhoo. this happens to be a great source of aggravation for my child, who cannot fathom, cannot wrap her mind around, why her parents aren't cool like all the other cool parents, from, you know, the cool side of town. she's always harassing me about how important recycling is. how we're not doing enough for our part. and all this, while i'm doing really cool stuff, too, like still cooking with grease and oogling the new dvd kiosks at walmart. have you seen these things? you can now rent movies at walmart for $1/day am i the only one properly amazed by this concept?
i digress.
anyway, my daughter hates to shop. i know, i know. enjoy it now. enjoy it while she doesn't understand the concept of the gap or can recognize a coach bag at 50 paces. i've always harbored this secret hope that she will love thrift stores like me. that she'll *get it*. she'll understand the
concept. she'll make her own clothes. her own style. she'll revel in her unique-ness. she'll sew this and that together like a patchwork quilt and be the grooviest kid because she's her own person.
that and unfortunately we aren't nudists, so we have to wear clothes and they may as well be
so every time we're in the need of something outgrown, i put on my bravest face and channel my Voice Otherwise Reserved for PottyBreaking humans and House-Breaking dogs. something to the extent of: "hey! i have the coolest idea! lets go to ____ and look for JEANS! won't that be FUN? won't we Pee Our Pants With Enthusiasm?? good grrrrrrrrrl!!"
yah. so that goes over like a lead balloon.
every. single. time.
until.
one particular day, Once Upon A Brilliant Time.
i, in typical awesome mom character, rally my troop of one, after school, announcing we are going shopping for pants. pants without holes in the knees and bum and crotch. pants that have not become high water waders. pants that fit, pants. and the resident red-head, in typical bemoaning character, flops around like a dying fish in the backseat, muttering something about torture.
we get there, and i proceed to spend the next 20 minutes feverishly searching thru racks and bins. even my patience is waning thin. but by this point, it has become my mission. my fist-pounding "principle of the matter". we will find pants, so help me and the little baby Jesus, we will find pants.
my child is no help. everything i find remotely suitable, she has some ridiculous rebuke for. things like: "its too tight.... its too loose.... mama? this one has a rip...."
eesh. details.
i had finally reached the end. i could feel it, my sanity, teetering ever so precariously on the edge of oblivion. bella kicks me while i'm down, with a "why do we hafta shop here, anyway."
and like a bloodied, match-weary prize fighter miraculously, against all odds, getting that 2nd wind, i looked my 8 year old in the eye and without so much as a blink, i said:
"because, bella? in this family we recycle."
and as i blazed ahead on that trail of improv passion for our recycling brothers and sisters, my daughter stood there, mouth dropped open. oh i could see the pride and adoration in her face. it was tangible now, as i sang the praises of the lost and forgotten garment. as i raised it up from the proverbial dead and draped it lovingly across her shoulders!!
and when i was finished, an elderly woman nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. as my daughter tackled me in a hug, i became a hero, my friends. a hero.
***********************
i was sharing this little story with my sister yesterday and i could just imagine her own adoration of All That Is Me, her mouth dropped open, in awe and respect.
instead, she laughed. a hearty laugh at that, the little nematoad.
and said, "You. Little. Manipulator."
i have just one thing to say to that: you. aaaaaaare. welcome.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
happy place simplified
i started this post in an awesome mood, earlier today, satisfied with my lazy day off and how i was choosing to use my time. 'reveling in this incredibly overwhelming brand-spanking-new, fresh joy i've experienced this week. and then my happy got sidelined.
yet, ironically, i'd already decided on my title for this post.
i was going to share with you where i'm at on this road. and where i want to be. the road to my happy place. and tho i got a little sidetracked along the way, that happy place is still very much there.
here's the truth, kids. sometimes i talk too much. sometimes i'm too open. sometimes, i let too much chaos in and i don't let enough chaos out. i don't make the right choices. often, i become overwhelmed in my life with the urge to purge, and often i struggle with the fear of being judged and even accepted. i walk a thin line between being passionate and letting go. i censor myself even as i open my mouth or flex my fingers over the keyboard. you might even think i'm tough, but deep down, i'm just a big pile of mush. i've dealt with strong depression over the last few years and i'm aware that i don't rely on my God nearly enough. i don't smile enough. i don't laugh enough. that joy that i once had so freely is not always so forthcoming. some days i feel incompetent and completely incapable. i feel that there are expectations of me that i consistently fail in. standards that i don't meet.
i struggle with the fear of abandonment, most of all. the overwhelming fear that you won't approve or accept me. that if you knew all the ugly in me, you'd turn away. that i won't fit in. in to your rules, your guidelines. your expectations. i have felt this my whole life. my whole life, i have always looked at life as the one on the outside looking in.
but this is me. and it is all of me. and all that i can give. my heart and spirit splayed open with all my faults and frailties and imperfections. and i give that part of myself freely. because i am imperfect and this road that i'm on is not always clear. and the one and only true thing i know, is that God is right here with me holding me up when i don't think i can stand on my own anymore.
and i share this struggle openly as my humble gift to you.
i guess i needed those tears today. that time of grief maybe i needed, as a gentle reminder that Gods eyes are the only ones i need to be looking into for approval.
nevertheless, i left to pick up bella in tears over words. over my interpretation of words. over the judgement i felt was placed on those words.
i dried my eyes just in time to have her teacher meet me at the door with a run-down of my rotten childs' excursions today. so i got back in the car more defeated than when i came. we drove home and i immediately decided we were taking the dogs for a brisk walk. and i do mean brisk. bella asked why i was being quiet...i guess she couldn't hear the shouting match going on in my head.
but i calmed down and came home and opened up my bible, which led me to proverbs 27. whoo baby, that's full of some stuff, yah?
and then i moved on to my devotionals.
one of them is "God Calling". i opened it up this afternoon & read :
as your days are, so will your strength be
i have promised that for every day you live, that strength will be given to you. do not fear. face each difficulty, sure that the wisdom and strength will be there. claim it. rely on me to keep my promise about this. in my universe, for every task i give on of my children, there is set aside all that is necesary for its performance. so why fear. why doubt?
when God places a burden on you, He places His arms underneath you.
the next was out of streams in the desert : The Brightest Colors
"It is good for me that I have been afflicted" (Ps. 119:71).
It is a remarkable circumstance that the most brilliant colors of plants are to be seen on the highest mountains, in spots that are most exposed to the wildest weather. The brightest lichens and mosses, the loveliest gems of wild flowers, abound far up on the bleak, storm-scalped peak.
One of the richest displays of organic coloring I ever beheld was near the summit of Mount Chenebettaz, a hill about 10,000 feet high, immediately above the great St. Bernard Hospice. The whole face of an extensive rock was covered with a most vivid yellow lichen which shone in the sunshine like the golden battlement of an enchanted castle.
There, in that lofty region, amid the most frowning desolation, exposed to the fiercest tempest of the sky, this lichen exhibited a glory of color such as it never showed in the sheltered valley. I have two specimens of the same lichen before me while I write these lines, one from the great St. Bernard, and the other from the wall of a Scottish castle, deeply embossed among sycamore trees; and the difference in point of form and coloring between them is most striking.
The specimen nurtured amid the wild storms of the mountain peak is of a lovely primrose hue, and is smooth in texture and complete in outline, while the specimen nurtured amid the soft airs and the delicate showers of the lowland valley is of a dim rusty hue, and is scurfy in texture, and broken in outline.
And is it not so with the Christian who is afflicted, tempest-tossed, and not comforted? Till the storms and vicissitudes of God's providence beat upon him again and again, his character appears marred and clouded; but trials clear away the obscurity, perfect the outlines of his disposition, and give brightness and blessing to his life.
yet, ironically, i'd already decided on my title for this post.
i was going to share with you where i'm at on this road. and where i want to be. the road to my happy place. and tho i got a little sidetracked along the way, that happy place is still very much there.
here's the truth, kids. sometimes i talk too much. sometimes i'm too open. sometimes, i let too much chaos in and i don't let enough chaos out. i don't make the right choices. often, i become overwhelmed in my life with the urge to purge, and often i struggle with the fear of being judged and even accepted. i walk a thin line between being passionate and letting go. i censor myself even as i open my mouth or flex my fingers over the keyboard. you might even think i'm tough, but deep down, i'm just a big pile of mush. i've dealt with strong depression over the last few years and i'm aware that i don't rely on my God nearly enough. i don't smile enough. i don't laugh enough. that joy that i once had so freely is not always so forthcoming. some days i feel incompetent and completely incapable. i feel that there are expectations of me that i consistently fail in. standards that i don't meet.
i struggle with the fear of abandonment, most of all. the overwhelming fear that you won't approve or accept me. that if you knew all the ugly in me, you'd turn away. that i won't fit in. in to your rules, your guidelines. your expectations. i have felt this my whole life. my whole life, i have always looked at life as the one on the outside looking in.
but this is me. and it is all of me. and all that i can give. my heart and spirit splayed open with all my faults and frailties and imperfections. and i give that part of myself freely. because i am imperfect and this road that i'm on is not always clear. and the one and only true thing i know, is that God is right here with me holding me up when i don't think i can stand on my own anymore.
and i share this struggle openly as my humble gift to you.
i guess i needed those tears today. that time of grief maybe i needed, as a gentle reminder that Gods eyes are the only ones i need to be looking into for approval.
nevertheless, i left to pick up bella in tears over words. over my interpretation of words. over the judgement i felt was placed on those words.
i dried my eyes just in time to have her teacher meet me at the door with a run-down of my rotten childs' excursions today. so i got back in the car more defeated than when i came. we drove home and i immediately decided we were taking the dogs for a brisk walk. and i do mean brisk. bella asked why i was being quiet...i guess she couldn't hear the shouting match going on in my head.
but i calmed down and came home and opened up my bible, which led me to proverbs 27. whoo baby, that's full of some stuff, yah?
and then i moved on to my devotionals.
one of them is "God Calling". i opened it up this afternoon & read :
as your days are, so will your strength be
i have promised that for every day you live, that strength will be given to you. do not fear. face each difficulty, sure that the wisdom and strength will be there. claim it. rely on me to keep my promise about this. in my universe, for every task i give on of my children, there is set aside all that is necesary for its performance. so why fear. why doubt?
when God places a burden on you, He places His arms underneath you.
the next was out of streams in the desert : The Brightest Colors
"It is good for me that I have been afflicted" (Ps. 119:71).
It is a remarkable circumstance that the most brilliant colors of plants are to be seen on the highest mountains, in spots that are most exposed to the wildest weather. The brightest lichens and mosses, the loveliest gems of wild flowers, abound far up on the bleak, storm-scalped peak.
One of the richest displays of organic coloring I ever beheld was near the summit of Mount Chenebettaz, a hill about 10,000 feet high, immediately above the great St. Bernard Hospice. The whole face of an extensive rock was covered with a most vivid yellow lichen which shone in the sunshine like the golden battlement of an enchanted castle.
There, in that lofty region, amid the most frowning desolation, exposed to the fiercest tempest of the sky, this lichen exhibited a glory of color such as it never showed in the sheltered valley. I have two specimens of the same lichen before me while I write these lines, one from the great St. Bernard, and the other from the wall of a Scottish castle, deeply embossed among sycamore trees; and the difference in point of form and coloring between them is most striking.
The specimen nurtured amid the wild storms of the mountain peak is of a lovely primrose hue, and is smooth in texture and complete in outline, while the specimen nurtured amid the soft airs and the delicate showers of the lowland valley is of a dim rusty hue, and is scurfy in texture, and broken in outline.
And is it not so with the Christian who is afflicted, tempest-tossed, and not comforted? Till the storms and vicissitudes of God's providence beat upon him again and again, his character appears marred and clouded; but trials clear away the obscurity, perfect the outlines of his disposition, and give brightness and blessing to his life.
i don't know about you, but i needed that. and in keeping with my goosfrabba moment, you should all take a minute and meditate with me. so while you're thinking on all these things, go and listen to this song and chill out with me. courtesy of the delightfully talented zefrank , of which recommendation i, of course, credit the the ever wonderful jen lemen .
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