happy hollow weenie

I hate halloween.
Seems every year that my children drill me on why we don't "do" halloween. And every year I have to explain why while feeling a burden to educate them but not creep them out too much.

So...we talk a bit about ancient beliefs, all hallows eve, dead walking around, bad spirits wanting to inhabit, costumes to try and fool the spirits, tricks cuz "hey we're in costume we can get away with it", treats to ward off tricks, devil worship, creepy costumes vs nice costumes...
blah blah blah.
Then we talk about how creepy it is to go house to house begging for candy... from strangers.
I mean seriously, if you are young enough for that to be exciting then the practice is just confusing and dangerous...if you are old enough to understand why it is confusing and dangerous then you need to go buy your own dang candy.
Candy that yer mean ole mom will take away from you as soon as you hit the house.
Plus, even if you are a fairy princess or an angel or a teddy bear you are likely to be met by a bloody serial killer, brain eating zombie or demonic alien hooker witch...these visions combined with a sugar high are sure to be a deadly dream combination.
I hate halloween.
I hate the Spirit stores that open up each year and make me try and get my children to look the other way until we get past. (it almost never works)
I hate the general love of all things gross and evil and bloody. I hate that it comes right up into your everyday living space and sticks its demonic tongue out at you.
You can't buy cereal or tampons without someone with a machete buried in his head telling you to "have a nice day".
And why do waitresses all think that slutty-witch is an appropriate costume for an otherwise family friendly eating experience? sheesh.
I hate halloween.
I think sugar is pretty much evil in any amount outside of the barest of moderation. I don't go down the candy isles.
I just pretty much wear the "don't even ask" look while at the checkout line.
Don't get me wrong...I like candy. I even buy candy. But when we have candy we eat it.
So we don't have it much. got it?
I refuse to let my children go door to door begging for poison so that they can bring it home and be mad at me for trying to do what's best for them. sigh.
I hate halloween.
I don't have the strength today to talk about devil worship and how the church seems to have embraced it with a sweet "but it's all fun for the kiddies" mentality. Another time.
I hate halloween.
Ask me next year and I betcha I will have new reasons. Seems the list keeps growing.

your kiss

Kiss me much my darling
for nothing else can satisfy
like lips speaking softly
yours on mine
a dance of flesh on flesh.

No words are needed
for the language of the kiss
communicates fond wishes,
earnest desires,
flaming passions,
imparted upon parted lips
in sentences too deep
for verbal utterances.

One kiss,
the culmination of a thousand looks
eyes closed we see much more
than sight alone can tell.

We meet
and having met,
the longing grows far dearer
forever driven
I search for loves sweet ending
eternal new beginning
found only
in your kiss.

pedestals

My relationships are rapidly changing. I don't know if they know it yet, but they are.
Change is good, right?
Really the change is happening in me. And since I am becoming something different it seems natural that how I react and interact with my life is also going to change.
So let's get down to brass tacks.
What is changing?

I am learning that I have built my life on an elaborate series of untruths.
(I am sure we will see additional posts about this)
One thing that has recently been revealed to me is that I think my people are Awesome.
with a capital A.
The basic untruth here being that I need to live in Awe of them.

The ugly truth here...I put people on pedestals. Wayyy on up there. In my desire to believe the best in people I have inadvertently held them up with my esteem to the point that the only way they could go was down. And down they have come. Over time. All of em...
One by one.
It isn't as tho I think them perfect. No. I see that they have faults. It is just that their faults have not directly affected me so I magnanimously allow them to remain in view so as not to heroically brand my loved one.
Hero worship is dangerous. Everybody knows this.
So they get to be imperfect. But still awesome. After all, I love them...so they must be all that.
Right?
But then, inevitably, they do the deed that affects me personally. Their fault hurts me. Or worse, someone I love. And they fall.
Sometimes I reach up and yank them down. Either way...boom.
And this falling...it hurts us both.

It hurts me because it feels like betrayal. Personal. And painful.
How dare they? If they reveal that they are not what I have believed them to be then they must have been perpetrating an untruth. Lying to me.
Leading me on with promises.
Sure, my expectations may have been absurdly unreal but they were a party to it.
They stood up on that height and went along with me on with my distorted reality trip.
(they are very multi-taskual you know)
But they have been found out.
Now I know them for what they really are; liars. And that stings.
I am now hurting.

You know, I really don't get their hurt...because I have been supremely fair in my pedestal building. They may have known I was building it and may have been working extra hard to keep themselves within the confines of the platform... But I gave them lots of room! I mean, I allowed them their various imperfections. I knew they had their faults. I even let them keep their faults on display. As long as it didn't affect me or mine they were free.
Ok, so maybe they had no idea how high they were being held. Maybe they thought it was just a small podium. Just a little adoration footstool of shiny thoughts. Me in love. Maybe they were ok with that. What is the harm in a little bit of lofty expectations? If you get tired you just step off.

If that is the case, surprise surprise surprise, that first step is a loo-loo.

They crash and burn then brush themselves off and look up to find my looks of disappointment...disillusionment...disgust even.
No longer are they high and lifted up. They have been found out.
Maybe I can see how that would hurt them. I can give you that it could possibly be unfair.
Ok.
Totally unfair.

It's not right you know...putting people on pedestals. But I do it. Have done it all my life.
If I like you, I like you a lot. You are wonderful.

Do I like you because you're wonderful? Or are you wonderful, because I like you?
(lyrics loosely from a song I heard once.)

I want to like you. I want to create a cushy place in my heart for you where we can be friends together and never disappoint one another. I know you will fit there. Not like all those other cretans. (from the urban dictionary: someone who is an idiot and lacks gravitas)
They have shown their true colors and abandoned me. No. You will be different.
You are wonderful.
Feel that pedestal rising up like a barbers chair? pump, pump, pump...

You might feel it happening and protest. But I am quick. I rush in with assurances of our mutual imperfections. This makes you feel better. What you don't know is that your protest just accelerated the pump action on my hydraulic pedestal raiser upper.
Being aware of your weakness makes you just that much more awesome.

There is no winning with me. sigh.
Here is how it goes...
We meet, I fall in like, you live up high while I tend to your needs, you fail here or there but I don't take it personal, you try to let me know your weakness, I reassure you, you let me down directly, your pedestal crumbles, I feel terribly hurt, appologies and forgivenesses, I help you re-assume your pedestial position....
I am so tired of living this way.

So what has changed? Rather, what is changing?
Well, I am now aware of my predilection for pedestal permutation. It is a harsh taskmaster for my heart. Assigning you a level of awesomeness and watching you from below is tiring. It does feel empowering in a way because it is like creation. Sick.
You become my plaything. My opus.
And when you crash...I fail. Because really, your failure is a reflection on me. I created you after all.
That is excruciating, exhausting, and again, supremely unfair to you (and me both).
I mean it! What a rip off that I created you, this awesome monster, and I am the one who gets all in a twist when you act as yourself (but in a way that offends me) and pulls you off the beauteous pediment I so graciously appointed for you. sheesh.
If I were you I would not put up with it any longer.

If I were me I would stop being such a dumbdonkey going around creating complex situations for epic failure.
And that is what is changing.
I am going to try and stop doing that.
I am going to try living with you on the same level. I hope that this will allow you to make your mistakes in freedom. No more being bound by my expectations. You just get to be you.
You might see that I don't treat you as carefully as I once did. You are a grownup. It is time I let you act like one.
Think of it this way...for the first time in our relationship you can really be free to be yourself with me. My goal is to see that and learn to accept it. Let you be you and let me be me reacting and interacting with you and let you be you reacting and interacting with me. Simple right?

I think we will get along better after the initial adjustments. We will both have much more energy if I am not constantly having to reinstate you up on that shiny column.
You can just trip and fall (and I can laugh) and we can move on.

Maybe none of this makes sense. It does get rather complicated. Or maybe it makes a load of sense because maybe you are also a pedestal pusher. I don't know. It is just a peek at me. For myself mostly.
Cheaper than counseling.

Now maybe looking at this makes you irritated because I am so arrogant as to think that you care what pedestal I have you on. Well go ahead and get glad in the same pants you got mad in cuz you can't control it.
But I am gonna try to not do that to you anymore. No promises or pinky swears.
Just me trying.
That is the best I can do for now.

closer in

when trust is not enough
to make things better
breathing is a minefield of regret
sunlight blinds your hope
and comfort bleeds

ones who seem to have it figured out
have left you shockingly alone
tho they surround you with their bodies
and their hands feel warm
their prayers point coldly to a door
where Heaven waits
while you look
in desperation
for the key

you know the right
and everybody tells you
just exactly how to get it done
but you know...
you know
that what they say is bogus
cuz if they're right
you're dead

they say to trust
but you are doubtful
they say get still
but you can't stop
they say reading holy words will bring you comfort
but the ones you find just damn you
and that brings sweet relief
because at least it asks for nothing

so you wake up to another day of darkness
jump through hoops
and beat your fists on walls
then feel the guilt
heaped overflowing
by your lack of self control

you did it wrong again
all your whining and complaining
must have surely sent Him packing
even tho
they say (those ones who know)
He waits
and tapping holy fingers
rests in peace
til you calm down

then one small thought breaks through
(when) fits of rage
are all you have to work with
one small thought is all it takes
(when) unfairness seems to rule your life
one small thought...
a murmur really
that sounds crazy sane and right
"they're wrong"...

So cry your heart out baby
weep the worry
rivers down your Papa's heart

when it all comes crashing

throw your thoughts
and hurl the doubts
then climb up on the shards
of broken dreams
and flow your tears

and He will call to you
tho you may not hear
He will whisper
and He will cry for you
when all your tears are gone
and lost among the ashes

when you feel emptied
and alone
He stands
among your dread
raging with you
stronger than defeat
able to withstand
your hate

when all the right words
lose their meaning
and the weeping
comes again
just open up and throw your head back
so the howls can tumble freely
He will hold them safely
while He weeps
and draws you closer in

in God we trust

"Just another testament to the power of prayer."
This said as the last word in a story about a precious birth.
sigh.
I still don't get it.

When someone says something like this I always have to think about how unfair it is for all those people who have lousy births because they didn't pray enough.
That thought always feels evil to me.

If you have read any of my past musings you know that I am having some rethinking in the faith/church/prayer/God department.
By this I mean: everything I ever thought about any of that is now being re-thunk.
ya follow?

Prayer is a huge re-think for me. I am actually to the point that I can no longer say "I will pray for you". I tell ya, that feels really strange.
I am not going into all this again. (did I just hear a big PTL?)

I just wanted to tell you my new phrase.
I shall tell it in a short story.

Last night an ambulance pulled up in front of my neighbors house. Her sweetie was taken to the hospital. His health is precarious on a good day. Today it was even worse. She was shaking and headed to her car to follow the ambulance. I told her to call me if she needed anything. As she drove off I felt bad that I did not say "I will pray for you". I could have. But I didn't.

Later I took that up with God.
(Here you might say I prayed...I will say I talked/communed/hung out)
I didn't ask God to make John better. I didn't ask Him to guide the doctor's hands. I didn't ask Him to give peace to Pat. In my "prayer" I just sat with Papa God and loved on John and Pat.
I took a few minutes to think about what I was praying about and what I was not praying about.

And, I figured out that what I was actually doing was trusting.

Trusting that I didn't need to tell God what to do or how to do it.
Trusting that He was there and would take care of everything.
I really didn't need to say "please take care of them and send the right people and guide the doctor..." and on and on and on.
I could think of lots to say...believe me. And all those words...for me...bring seeds of worry.
This quiet trust brought so much peace.

I was trusting them to Him. And trusting Him to them.
I was trusting with them. And I am sure for them at times.

I am sure that this is exactly what some people are doing when they say they are praying. But I am also sure that many prayers are not trust but worry. Then there are the prayers of ordering and begging and cajoling and micro-managing....And that is ok. He can handle all that.
I just don't want to do that any more. I want a new word.

So this is what I am going to say when the moment calls for me to use the "p" word.
"I will trust God with you." "I will trust God for you." "Let's trust God together for this."

If you can forgive my arrogance and ignore any thoughts that I am judging your theology (which I am not) can you give me your opinion on this new term?
What does it say to you?
I am really interested to know.