I tried to be all riled up today but I just couldn't. Usually I write whilst all riled up. It is my muse.
Today I am going to write from a neutral or maybe even philanthropic standpoint.
Hang on tight.
A teacher friend of mine said something that I have heard so many times in the christian circles of my life. The statement was presented without malice. Actually, it was a call to the deep inner places of the heart. He called for goodness. He called for selflessness. He called out for us to honor our Maker.
And all his words hurt my soul.
The statement-(in thought and meaning, not directly quoted)
"I hope that in hearing this you hear my goal. That I would go through my days in such a way that you would see and hear my Father and not me."
I wondered at this thought. And for a moment, at all the thoughts I had encountered and embraced along these lines.
More of you and less of me.
How many times do we say it? How many times do we wish it with all of our good christian hearts?
Sincerely we plead, "Let them see only You, Lord. Remove me from this. Let only Your words be heard. Show me how to move and speak in such a way that the world does not see me, but only You."
We have been taught quite scripturally (John 3:30) that we are to be less to His more.
That the world should be seeing Jesus. Only Jesus.
And I am here to say...I disagree.
First of all, think about it for a minute...
what parent pats their child on the head and sends them off for their day and thinks..."wow. great kid. I hope nobody looks at her today. Or if they do, I hope that all they see is me."
what parent reads their child's beautiful dissertation and expects to be footnoted..."all thoughts and references mentioned in the above text are to be exclusively attributed to my Father."
what parent says to their child, "only use my words today honey. all your words are meaningless."
and what parent expects their child to love while saying (or feeling) , "you know, this is my Father loving you. Without Him I would not be able to pull it off."
[I have no neutral position on that last statement so I won't dwell on it.]
I do not believe that our Father expects us to disappear within His glory. I believe that He created us unique and worthy to be and do all of life as ourselves.
And I think that is part of His Glory.
I understand the sentiment. God of the Universe. He has good things to say! His actions are pretty spectacular and He never makes mistakes. More of Him. Really worthy goal.
I am not necessarily advocating a life of "look at me!" That's baby talk really. Immaturity.
We have been trained to see it as arrogance. A need for attention. Not very christian.
At the very least, not very grown up.
And that has become our worshipped goal. To grow up. Be mature. Lose the need to be seen.
So I just want to put this to you...
What did Jesus mean when He said...and I quote...
Matthew 18: 2-3
He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. 3 And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
No, really.
Maybe He likes our immature, humiliating, look-at-me, selves.
What if our cries...at the very core...are "can you see me?"
We are told from day one in our christian walk to put ourselves aside. we are told that we are unworthy and screwed up and mess makers. we are told that taking on Jesus is the way to be worthy because only He is worthy.
That is the nugget of truth within the lie...He is the worthy one if we are comparing.
But that is not the topic or issue here.
All He did, He did to reveal our worth. Worth.
He sees you. He sees me. He wants me to see you...as I see myself.
Created. Unique. With a voice and actions that are my own. I am not Jesus. I am not God.
Why would I expect to be seen as such?
If He took the time to make me as I am (yes, yes and that is ever changing and growing more like Him because He is cool)
if He took the time to make me...me, maybe my Father expects me to act like me. Not 'just' Jesus.
This joke has impacted me since childhood.
There is this preacher who gives an impassioned sermon one Sunday. He felt very inspired and sure that He had delivered the very words of God.
After the service he stands at the back and shakes hands with the congregation.
One little lady says "Brother, those were good words your preached today."
The preacher points to heaven and lowers his eyes and says, "The words of God, Sister, the words of God."
And she pats him on the hand and says, "well, they weren't THAT good."
It is ok to be who we were created to be. We will most assuredly mess up sometimes. He gets that.
And I don't think it scares Him.
I have a need to be seen. To be known. To be understood. After all that is said and done I have a need to be loved because I am me.
I still want to be like Jesus. It is a worth-while goal.
But if I put my entire existence into losing myself to gain His glory then maybe I shortchange Him.
Just something I want you to think about. I'm thinking about it.
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
3.06.2014
8.07.2013
bumper to bumper
I feel quite undone today.
Full up with the goodness of my Papa God. My heart aches at His sweetness and His nearness.
I want to cry almost every minute I think about it.
And yet...
I stutter here a bit. Not knowing what exactly to write. I go back to the first sentences and breathe in the goodness that I know is there and try to dwell there a little bit longer.
Just a little longer please. His answer to me is always yes. I can dwell as long as I want.
What does goodness look like? It comes in so many forms. I struggle with it all the time.
I have been taught to be thankful. I have been taught so thoroughly that I can say "thank you" and "this really sucks" in the same breath.
And mean them both completely.
He is good. And ever present. Attending to my sorrow tho there are times where I feel that His attentions could be better spent elsewhere thankyouverymuch.
He doesn't play the part of "magical fixer" very well. I wish He did.
I do still believe in miracles. Tho not in the charismatic all caps way that I had embraced for a time.
GOD WILL RESCUE YOU! HAVE FAITH SISTER! BELIEVE AND RECEIVE YOUR REWARD!
No. Not that way.
But also not in a completely complacent tidal pool way either. I do not sit in the tepid water and wait for the next wave to wash me back home. (although there are times lately that I swear some kid with a sharp stick is poking me and shouting "WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING?!")
No. Not in that way either.
I believe in miracles in a beautiful lyrical way that sings as it weaves my heart longings into a tear filled Hallmark Holiday special. I believe in the majestic wonder of things too big to understand and too sweet to really embrace. I believe in everything working out perfectly.
I need to believe in that way. Cuz reality bites right now. And even there I am oddly happy that it isn't biting as bad as it could and Please Jesus don't test me on that.
When life is perfect I have no need to pray. Did you know that?
And when life is not so perfect?
Well, here I struggle a little.
Because I still have no need to pray. And that feels bad.
It feels very wrong. Pagan. Anti.....everything.
You can go back to other pages in this book and find that this is not new thinking on my part. Prayer was one of the first casualties in my battle with everything I had been raised to believe.
Let me break it down for you...
I no longer believe that you have to beg God for anything. You can if you want to. But you don't need to.
This belief came to me for the first time in the shower.
I was begging God to keep my family safe on our upcoming road trip. I was asking Him to go with us. To guide, guard, and protect us. To send His mighty angels ahead of us to create a hedge of protection along our roadway. I asked for good weather and non-sleepy eye lids. I enlisted a spiritual bumper-to-bumper full coverage policy on our van. I asked for clean restrooms and no vomiting.
I covered every area I could think of. And I still felt scared.
Then He spoke to me.
I heard no audible voice in the shower spray. What I heard was a picture. A video in my worried mind. A remembrance of all the trips I had taken as a child. I watched myself climb up into our car and drive off down the road with my daddy at the wheel and not one care in my heart. We ate meals when we were hungry. We slept when we were sleepy. Sometimes our car broke down...and we got it fixed. It was an adventure every time. Even the harder times.
But I did not ever...not one single time...beg my daddy to keep us safe. (I did tell him to wake up now and then...he is a champion nap driver)
Daddy knew, without even thinking about it too hard, that it was his job to get us to our destination.
And we never had to beg him to do it.
That thought has rocked my world. I can trust my Papa God to get me where I need to go.
He doesn't need my prayers to set everything up for Him...for us.
He just knows what to do and He does it.
Amazing.
I can still ask Him and even beg Him if I want to. I still do sometimes. And He rushes in and quiets me or lets me wail...sometimes both at the same time.
He does miracles for me. Although I have found that more often than not, I do not recognize the miracle until after the fact. I wish He marked them better.
I have to laugh when I think that sometimes those miracles feel like a kid with a sharp pokey stick shouting,
"WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING?!"
Other times, miracles come in the form of the daily sustaining ritual of eating and sleeping and being. The daily grind. A miracle.
I feel that I want to share my miracle with you. Just so you know.
My husband lost his job in November. It is now July. I have money in the bank and no debt except a reasonable house payment. This should not be possible. It would not be possible had he not lost his job. I am not that smart in the money management department. It is just a miracle.
And in the midst of my miracle I daily struggle with the feeling that I somehow need to beg God for His care or prayerfully lay out the to-do list so that He can be better organized. Time...we need to get on this Big Guy. Don't you think we need to take care of....
I am sure this hurts my heart way more than it bugs Him. He can take my angst. He has proven that time and time again.
So what do I do? I pray.
Ha! Didn't expect that did you.
I pray...but only in a conversational way like I face book or pick up the phone.
I talk to Him about all this. My Papa God and I talk all the time. He almost never gives me the answers in a way that I can pin down to logic but He does answer.
Sometimes I say "this sucks." Sometimes I say "thank you."
Mostly I feel His goodness and it makes me come undone. I can't explain it. It just does.
Full up with the goodness of my Papa God. My heart aches at His sweetness and His nearness.
I want to cry almost every minute I think about it.
And yet...
I stutter here a bit. Not knowing what exactly to write. I go back to the first sentences and breathe in the goodness that I know is there and try to dwell there a little bit longer.
Just a little longer please. His answer to me is always yes. I can dwell as long as I want.
What does goodness look like? It comes in so many forms. I struggle with it all the time.
I have been taught to be thankful. I have been taught so thoroughly that I can say "thank you" and "this really sucks" in the same breath.
And mean them both completely.
He is good. And ever present. Attending to my sorrow tho there are times where I feel that His attentions could be better spent elsewhere thankyouverymuch.
He doesn't play the part of "magical fixer" very well. I wish He did.
I do still believe in miracles. Tho not in the charismatic all caps way that I had embraced for a time.
GOD WILL RESCUE YOU! HAVE FAITH SISTER! BELIEVE AND RECEIVE YOUR REWARD!
No. Not that way.
But also not in a completely complacent tidal pool way either. I do not sit in the tepid water and wait for the next wave to wash me back home. (although there are times lately that I swear some kid with a sharp stick is poking me and shouting "WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING?!")
No. Not in that way either.
I believe in miracles in a beautiful lyrical way that sings as it weaves my heart longings into a tear filled Hallmark Holiday special. I believe in the majestic wonder of things too big to understand and too sweet to really embrace. I believe in everything working out perfectly.
I need to believe in that way. Cuz reality bites right now. And even there I am oddly happy that it isn't biting as bad as it could and Please Jesus don't test me on that.
When life is perfect I have no need to pray. Did you know that?
And when life is not so perfect?
Well, here I struggle a little.
Because I still have no need to pray. And that feels bad.
It feels very wrong. Pagan. Anti.....everything.
You can go back to other pages in this book and find that this is not new thinking on my part. Prayer was one of the first casualties in my battle with everything I had been raised to believe.
Let me break it down for you...
I no longer believe that you have to beg God for anything. You can if you want to. But you don't need to.
This belief came to me for the first time in the shower.
I was begging God to keep my family safe on our upcoming road trip. I was asking Him to go with us. To guide, guard, and protect us. To send His mighty angels ahead of us to create a hedge of protection along our roadway. I asked for good weather and non-sleepy eye lids. I enlisted a spiritual bumper-to-bumper full coverage policy on our van. I asked for clean restrooms and no vomiting.
I covered every area I could think of. And I still felt scared.
Then He spoke to me.
I heard no audible voice in the shower spray. What I heard was a picture. A video in my worried mind. A remembrance of all the trips I had taken as a child. I watched myself climb up into our car and drive off down the road with my daddy at the wheel and not one care in my heart. We ate meals when we were hungry. We slept when we were sleepy. Sometimes our car broke down...and we got it fixed. It was an adventure every time. Even the harder times.
But I did not ever...not one single time...beg my daddy to keep us safe. (I did tell him to wake up now and then...he is a champion nap driver)
Daddy knew, without even thinking about it too hard, that it was his job to get us to our destination.
And we never had to beg him to do it.
That thought has rocked my world. I can trust my Papa God to get me where I need to go.
He doesn't need my prayers to set everything up for Him...for us.
He just knows what to do and He does it.
Amazing.
I can still ask Him and even beg Him if I want to. I still do sometimes. And He rushes in and quiets me or lets me wail...sometimes both at the same time.
He does miracles for me. Although I have found that more often than not, I do not recognize the miracle until after the fact. I wish He marked them better.
I have to laugh when I think that sometimes those miracles feel like a kid with a sharp pokey stick shouting,
"WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING?!"
Other times, miracles come in the form of the daily sustaining ritual of eating and sleeping and being. The daily grind. A miracle.
I feel that I want to share my miracle with you. Just so you know.
My husband lost his job in November. It is now July. I have money in the bank and no debt except a reasonable house payment. This should not be possible. It would not be possible had he not lost his job. I am not that smart in the money management department. It is just a miracle.
And in the midst of my miracle I daily struggle with the feeling that I somehow need to beg God for His care or prayerfully lay out the to-do list so that He can be better organized. Time...we need to get on this Big Guy. Don't you think we need to take care of....
I am sure this hurts my heart way more than it bugs Him. He can take my angst. He has proven that time and time again.
So what do I do? I pray.
Ha! Didn't expect that did you.
I pray...but only in a conversational way like I face book or pick up the phone.
I talk to Him about all this. My Papa God and I talk all the time. He almost never gives me the answers in a way that I can pin down to logic but He does answer.
Sometimes I say "this sucks." Sometimes I say "thank you."
Mostly I feel His goodness and it makes me come undone. I can't explain it. It just does.
8.18.2012
talk to the hand
Today's challenge was a bit easier. And I can't help but laugh at the irony (even tho irony is totally overused these days) of the fact that in this I will introspect when it was not called for when yesterday I lamed out in cold sweats at the thought.
If you followed that sentence you get a prize.
The challenge...latest accomplishment.
This challenge...is...my latest accomplishment.
I have not laid pencil to paper more than a half-dozen times in the the 20 something years since I got out of college. Something about forced art just sucked the life right out of it. Forgive me but putting on a grade on art is wrong. You cannot simply letter someones muse and then line them up in absurd best to worst case study. Your art may be bad but its your art, man. Who am I to tell you what you feel? Technique...yeah it has its place but art is art and you don't be messin. No critical suggestions. K?
Its like telling your 5r yr old she misspelled your name in a love note.
So, after the final exam I just fizzled.
I had to think long and hard about joining this challenge. I didn't know if it would feel like a requirement. It hasn't yet. Maybe I am more mature. Maybe it is better because I chose it. Whatever it is...it is fun.
And I feel like I am much better at it now that I make the choices.
So here is me...drawing. Notice the paper is blank. I choose to leave it that way to remind me that I get to choose. And I like it.
That in itself is a major accomplishment.
.JPG)
If this is your first visit, we are doing a 30 day drawing challenge.
Drawing challenge list.
Check out all the players.
Niki
Don
Zoe
Max
Girl
See ya tomorrow!
If you followed that sentence you get a prize.
The challenge...latest accomplishment.
This challenge...is...my latest accomplishment.
I have not laid pencil to paper more than a half-dozen times in the the 20 something years since I got out of college. Something about forced art just sucked the life right out of it. Forgive me but putting on a grade on art is wrong. You cannot simply letter someones muse and then line them up in absurd best to worst case study. Your art may be bad but its your art, man. Who am I to tell you what you feel? Technique...yeah it has its place but art is art and you don't be messin. No critical suggestions. K?
Its like telling your 5r yr old she misspelled your name in a love note.
So, after the final exam I just fizzled.
I had to think long and hard about joining this challenge. I didn't know if it would feel like a requirement. It hasn't yet. Maybe I am more mature. Maybe it is better because I chose it. Whatever it is...it is fun.
And I feel like I am much better at it now that I make the choices.
So here is me...drawing. Notice the paper is blank. I choose to leave it that way to remind me that I get to choose. And I like it.
That in itself is a major accomplishment.
.JPG)
If this is your first visit, we are doing a 30 day drawing challenge.
Drawing challenge list.
Check out all the players.
Niki
Don
Zoe
Max
Girl
See ya tomorrow!
8.15.2012
here's the story
.JPG)
8.13.2012
word
Today the topic of drawscussion is "favorite word".
What is my favorite word?
Long ago I would have told you that my favorite word was ranger.
Ranger.
I guess I still kind of like it. Not in a Ranger Rick way. More in a 14 yr old girl forest ranger man in uniform hearts and flowers kind of way. sigh.
gag.
Favorite word.
It would be way easier to come up with a least favorite word. I could probably spend all day making a list.
I have two that top the list. (actually, if we are going to get technical, these are phrases)
Ready?
cutting edge.
state of the art.
Just hate em.
Let's move on shall we?
This word hit my head as I sat and mulled. It fits me perfectly when referring to the word wielding part of me.
I am a word snob.
I am particular.
Careful.
Tight in puckered kind of way.
I will put back a birthday card because it said beautiful instead of lovely.
I will reject a song because it says "you're the best" and blasts me out of my worshipful reverie.
Words matter.
So my favorite word. At least for today...
Click to get a closer view.
I would just like to say that this word does not necessarily apply to other aspects of my personality.
Only word choices.
I chose to let the y have its own little quirkiness.
Just owning the notion that in my word world fussy does not mean uptight. Just precise.
Persnickety.
That's me.
Join us in our drawing challenge.
Drawing challenge list.
Check out all the players.
Niki
Don
Zoe
Max
Girl
See ya tomorrow!
What is my favorite word?
Long ago I would have told you that my favorite word was ranger.
Ranger.
I guess I still kind of like it. Not in a Ranger Rick way. More in a 14 yr old girl forest ranger man in uniform hearts and flowers kind of way. sigh.
gag.
Favorite word.
It would be way easier to come up with a least favorite word. I could probably spend all day making a list.
I have two that top the list. (actually, if we are going to get technical, these are phrases)
Ready?
cutting edge.
state of the art.
Just hate em.
Let's move on shall we?
This word hit my head as I sat and mulled. It fits me perfectly when referring to the word wielding part of me.
I am a word snob.
I am particular.
Careful.
Tight in puckered kind of way.
I will put back a birthday card because it said beautiful instead of lovely.
I will reject a song because it says "you're the best" and blasts me out of my worshipful reverie.
Words matter.
So my favorite word. At least for today...
I would just like to say that this word does not necessarily apply to other aspects of my personality.
Only word choices.
I chose to let the y have its own little quirkiness.
Just owning the notion that in my word world fussy does not mean uptight. Just precise.
Persnickety.
That's me.
Join us in our drawing challenge.
Drawing challenge list.
Check out all the players.
Niki
Don
Zoe
Max
Girl
See ya tomorrow!
1.19.2012
eleven things (or 33 things if you're counting)
If you live in blog world (don't deny it) you must admit that you have seen this thing called "tagging".
Tagging- not the thing where you slap the ninny outta the class nerd in a friendly playground game...not the artwork boldly scrawled upon the dumpster in the alley behind your house...
tagging....this thing where someone tells you things about themselves that you didn't even know you wanted to know...but strangely having known you now feel closer to them in an absurd yet quirky kinda fun way so why the heck not?!
I have been tagged.
I will now tell you strange things about myself and invite you to reciprocate except I get to ask the questions. I will not be tagging anyone (tho slapping the ninny outta a few people does hold it's charms) as I do not have eleven readers...or if I do they certainly don't speak up with any amount of dependability. (you know who you are)
So, without further ado....(spell check says ado...I thought it was adeau...)
Here are my 11 things...
(questions provided by Katrina over at http://notesonanapkin.wordpress.com/)
1. If you won a gift certificate good for a year’s service from either a maid or a private chef, which one would you choose?
-Maid. My slaves...er....children do a fine job. But they are only kids and they are easily distracted. Those dust bunnies in the corner may soon join forces and smother us in our sleep.
So I choose maid. It would be nice to have the house really clean on a regular basis. sigh.
That private chef thing is for the future because, for now, my incredibly talented daughter does all the cooking for the family. We eat like kings. When she decides she has had enough of this gig and if she does not train one of her siblings, I will be hiring a chef. I am so not kidding.
Tagging- not the thing where you slap the ninny outta the class nerd in a friendly playground game...not the artwork boldly scrawled upon the dumpster in the alley behind your house...
tagging....this thing where someone tells you things about themselves that you didn't even know you wanted to know...but strangely having known you now feel closer to them in an absurd yet quirky kinda fun way so why the heck not?!
I have been tagged.
I will now tell you strange things about myself and invite you to reciprocate except I get to ask the questions. I will not be tagging anyone (tho slapping the ninny outta a few people does hold it's charms) as I do not have eleven readers...or if I do they certainly don't speak up with any amount of dependability. (you know who you are)
So, without further ado....(spell check says ado...I thought it was adeau...)
Here are my 11 things...
(questions provided by Katrina over at http://notesonanapkin.wordpress.com/)
1. If you won a gift certificate good for a year’s service from either a maid or a private chef, which one would you choose?
-Maid. My slaves...er....children do a fine job. But they are only kids and they are easily distracted. Those dust bunnies in the corner may soon join forces and smother us in our sleep.
So I choose maid. It would be nice to have the house really clean on a regular basis. sigh.
That private chef thing is for the future because, for now, my incredibly talented daughter does all the cooking for the family. We eat like kings. When she decides she has had enough of this gig and if she does not train one of her siblings, I will be hiring a chef. I am so not kidding.
2. Name something you’ve done that was totally out of character for you.
-One time in kindergarten I wiped a booger (or two) on the back of the dress of the princess that sat in front of me in childrens' church. I did not like how she looked at me. And I needed a place to put my booger(s). It was out of character because I knew good and well that it was very unhygienic for me to wipe my booger on her dress. I mean seriously, I didn't wash my hands afterward or anything.
-One time in kindergarten I wiped a booger (or two) on the back of the dress of the princess that sat in front of me in childrens' church. I did not like how she looked at me. And I needed a place to put my booger(s). It was out of character because I knew good and well that it was very unhygienic for me to wipe my booger on her dress. I mean seriously, I didn't wash my hands afterward or anything.
3. Imagine we discovered a life-sustaining planet and a way to get there in a five year space journey. If invited to go, would you be willing to leave behind your life on Earth to explore a new world? (Your family can go with you, of course.)
-no. I am afraid to leave the country for fear of accidentally telling someone that their butt looks so pretty. (my spanish teacher told me to be careful how I say "dog" )
-no. I am afraid to leave the country for fear of accidentally telling someone that their butt looks so pretty. (my spanish teacher told me to be careful how I say "dog" )
4. If someone gave you $500 on the condition that you somehow use it to help someone in need, how would you spend it?
-sandwiches.
5. What’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen?
-No Way Out. Kevin Costner
Wait...Children of the Corn. Still haunts me.
-No Way Out. Kevin Costner
Wait...Children of the Corn. Still haunts me.
6. If you lost your U.S. citizenship and had to relocate permanently to another country, where would you go? Why?
-Canada...see #3.
-Canada...see #3.
7. What’s your guilty pleasure?
-what is this word guilt?
8. Who would win in a street fight between the Black Eyed Peas and the Fugees?
-I love black eyed peas. Especially when they have a little spice to them. I have never eaten fugee. Is it like tofu?
-I love black eyed peas. Especially when they have a little spice to them. I have never eaten fugee. Is it like tofu?
9. If you could go back in time and change just ONE decision that you’ve made, what would it be? (I’m not talking about mistakes, but about a time you had to choose between two or more paths.)
-I cannot remember a time in my life when I had a choice between two or more roads. I guess I am blessed to have had a pretty clear direction in life. Now if we start talking about paths I would choose for other people...welllllll now...where should I begin.
-I cannot remember a time in my life when I had a choice between two or more roads. I guess I am blessed to have had a pretty clear direction in life. Now if we start talking about paths I would choose for other people...welllllll now...where should I begin.
10. What superpower would you like to have?
-I would like to fly. But only if the superpower came with super eyes that did not dry out in the wind. And super teeth that were kinda teflon coated or something cuz bugs...ewwww.
I am just practical like that.
-I would like to fly. But only if the superpower came with super eyes that did not dry out in the wind. And super teeth that were kinda teflon coated or something cuz bugs...ewwww.
I am just practical like that.
11. Do you have a weird body quirk? What is it?
-I have a lazy eye. Is that quirky?
Now that I have answered the questions given to me I shall commence with the asking...
(you might want to gather some supplies)
ready? here goes...
1. If you had to choose between mustard and ketchup which would you choose? Would your answer remain the same if I told you that you had to drink an entire bottle?
2. Besides Jesus, who would you pick to amputate your limb if it had to be done without anesthesia?
3. What three things would you take with you if you were going to be locked in a closet for 1 week? Elaborate please.
4. If you had to lose one of your senses, which would you choose?
5. Have you ever, as an adult, told a bald faced lie to keep yourself out of trouble? (please elaborate....please, please, please...but keep it clean) (you know who you are)
6. If you had the opportunity to go on one of those shows where you step back in time and live the life of pioneers, or servants, or war-time type folks...would you do it? without whining? or cheating?
7. Last desert on earth. (not the sandy kind...the yummy kind...did I spell it right?) Anyway...last one. Ever. Your favorite. Do you eat it all right now or save it and nibble a little at a time?
8. If you could describe your life in a country song, what would you title it?
9. If someone offered you one million dollars to eat a live roach would you do it? Would you eat 10 for 10 million?
10. The Monkeys or the Beatles?
11. Have you ever found yourself saying the exact thing that you swore you would never...ever...say? Did you laugh or grimace?
whew! That was so hard. Talk amongst ya-selves.
Now the rules say that I must tell you 11 things about myself.
(clears throat)
1. I am addicted to angry birds. Or was until my children and husband got ahold of my game and now I can't remember which level I am on and they are seriously harshin my chill. irrggghhhhh!
2. When I get a new appliance/electronic toy and it has a plastic coating that you get to peel off to reveal a scratch free shiny surface I like to be the one to peel that plastic off. If someone else does it I may or may not have a hissy.
3. I would like to try to live the life of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Maybe not her whole life in real time. But a compressed timeline over a year or something. Something challenging.
4. I did not name one of my children until a week after he was born. Had to try some on to see what fit.
5. If you try to make me eat brussels sprouts I will probably clamp my lips shut and bite them closed. I had a bad experience, ok?!
6. I would love to know how to pick locks like Remington Steele.
7. I have a crazy fear of drowning on a cruise ship. Other boats don't really bother me. (Titanic was not really a good movie for me.) Strangely enough...I am somewhat mesmerized by the actual Titanic history and stuff.
8. When I was a child I always named my barbies names that could be mistaken for boys. This was so they could be working fixing a car or building a house and someone would mistake them for a guy and say like..."hey! they told me to find Bob so he could fix my carberator, know where I can find him?" And then the barbie would take her hat off and flick her hair and they would be all surprised. (I may or may not have watched a lot of Charlies Angels as a kid)
9. Sometimes I find my life stories have strange connections to tv shows from my childhood.I find it pitiful that while I may forget my kid's birthday, I remember Jan's party fiasco when she wore the big fro wig so she wouldn't be all "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!!"
10. I want to go to Hawaii and to Disneyland. Really. Badly. I can not emphasize this enough.
11. The Gambler is one of my favorite songs of all time. I know all the words. When the part comes "He turned back toward the window...and in his final words I found an ace that I could keep..." I feel myself tear up.
Well folks...that's it.
Jump in here and answer a few questions or comment on a few of mine.
"There'll be time enough for countin....when the dealin's done."
1.03.2012
success
Some days I want to just throw my hands up in the air and say "forget it!"
This isn't one of those days or I wouldn't be typing about it. On those days either I really can't function or I am in hyperfunction and I feel like a top in perpetual spin...not really going anywhere but major props for effort.
Today was a good day. A successful day.
I am in clean out mode. (not intestionally in case you wondered)
This cleanout is about stuff...too much stuff...in my house...in my life...stuff...
You might think this is about the new year and resolutions and junk.
no. I deny it.
I resist resolutions as they tend to irritate me worse than a wedgie in church.
This is about simplification. This is about order. This is about me being lazy and tired of cleaning up, over and around all the superfluous crappification that has taken up residence in my space.
It is a well known fact that if you have something then you have to maintain it. This goes for laundry, cars, tsotchkeys, relationships, money, houses, religion, yeah- everything.
So, my plan is to sell all my worldly goods, donate that money to the poor, grab a backpack and hit the street.
or not.
I am not even using this mental space to think about the spiritual ramifications of cleaning out. Tho I am sure some of that will happen. No, I am just talking about craft supplies, and books I won't read and toys that we don't like.
I gotta tell you, it is hard to let things go. At first.
I pick it up and look at it and hold it and think about it and put it down on my lap and pick up something else to look at and think about...repeat.
Until my lap gets too full of stuff and I have to make some decisions.
Throw away, give away, save.
Simple enough.
Until you see that my throw away pile is miniscule. I am no hoarder. I throw junky stuff away.
shut up. I saved those random game pieces in case we ever do an art project.
I guess a lot of this stuff could be given away but then what will I do if I find that I need facepaint or a cross stitch kit or mostly blank journal? I will remember that I had one and that in a moment of passion I gave it away and it is no longer available to me!!!
The world might stop.
I might not want to risk that ok?
Save it is. Reorganize it so that it fits into a smaller space. Buy new containers to hold it in a dignified manner. Shelving?! Toughtotes? Oh. My. Goodness.
Somebody slap me.
It takes a day or three to come to my senses. I start small. I reorganized the christmas decorations. I just knew I could whittle down and get rid of at least one large box.
I am proud to say that I weeded out three unnecessary holiday accoutrements (but added at least two dozen).
Hey...we made a bunch of really cute hand made ornaments this year.
In the end I did manage to get the existing boxes closed and it only took a couple of hours of repacking. sigh.
Now I am working on the craft closet. It was going great until the offspring saw my give away pile. sigh again.
We have done more crafts today than we usually do all year.
See...it isn't that the stuff I have is bad. It is just that it largely goes unused. It takes up space not only in my closet but in my mind. All those elements of creativity whispering their encouragements.
Encouragements that are really nothing more than thinly veiled threats and accusations.
Yes, the secret is out...things that linger around undone too long develop voices and taunt me.
Like you never. Admit it...you know you hear it.
I avoid making to-do lists.
I prefer done-did lists.
This is where you write your list after. At the end of the day. When you are ready to cross things off immediately.
If you haven't tried it don't knock it.
A few done-did lists and you become a paragon of success.
So what did I done-did today?
I showered and brushed my teeth.
Made my bed.
Ate a nutritious lunch.
Sorted the craft closet.
Added to my give away pile.
Added to the trash pile.
Recognized that my closet was pretty organized before I even started.
Patted myself of the back.
Got a cramp as I realized how many more closets I have.
Success.
This isn't one of those days or I wouldn't be typing about it. On those days either I really can't function or I am in hyperfunction and I feel like a top in perpetual spin...not really going anywhere but major props for effort.
Today was a good day. A successful day.
I am in clean out mode. (not intestionally in case you wondered)
This cleanout is about stuff...too much stuff...in my house...in my life...stuff...
You might think this is about the new year and resolutions and junk.
no. I deny it.
I resist resolutions as they tend to irritate me worse than a wedgie in church.
This is about simplification. This is about order. This is about me being lazy and tired of cleaning up, over and around all the superfluous crappification that has taken up residence in my space.
It is a well known fact that if you have something then you have to maintain it. This goes for laundry, cars, tsotchkeys, relationships, money, houses, religion, yeah- everything.
So, my plan is to sell all my worldly goods, donate that money to the poor, grab a backpack and hit the street.
or not.
I am not even using this mental space to think about the spiritual ramifications of cleaning out. Tho I am sure some of that will happen. No, I am just talking about craft supplies, and books I won't read and toys that we don't like.
I gotta tell you, it is hard to let things go. At first.
I pick it up and look at it and hold it and think about it and put it down on my lap and pick up something else to look at and think about...repeat.
Until my lap gets too full of stuff and I have to make some decisions.
Throw away, give away, save.
Simple enough.
Until you see that my throw away pile is miniscule. I am no hoarder. I throw junky stuff away.
shut up. I saved those random game pieces in case we ever do an art project.
I guess a lot of this stuff could be given away but then what will I do if I find that I need facepaint or a cross stitch kit or mostly blank journal? I will remember that I had one and that in a moment of passion I gave it away and it is no longer available to me!!!
The world might stop.
I might not want to risk that ok?
Save it is. Reorganize it so that it fits into a smaller space. Buy new containers to hold it in a dignified manner. Shelving?! Toughtotes? Oh. My. Goodness.
Somebody slap me.
It takes a day or three to come to my senses. I start small. I reorganized the christmas decorations. I just knew I could whittle down and get rid of at least one large box.
I am proud to say that I weeded out three unnecessary holiday accoutrements (but added at least two dozen).
Hey...we made a bunch of really cute hand made ornaments this year.
In the end I did manage to get the existing boxes closed and it only took a couple of hours of repacking. sigh.
Now I am working on the craft closet. It was going great until the offspring saw my give away pile. sigh again.
We have done more crafts today than we usually do all year.
See...it isn't that the stuff I have is bad. It is just that it largely goes unused. It takes up space not only in my closet but in my mind. All those elements of creativity whispering their encouragements.
Encouragements that are really nothing more than thinly veiled threats and accusations.
Yes, the secret is out...things that linger around undone too long develop voices and taunt me.
Like you never. Admit it...you know you hear it.
I avoid making to-do lists.
I prefer done-did lists.
This is where you write your list after. At the end of the day. When you are ready to cross things off immediately.
If you haven't tried it don't knock it.
A few done-did lists and you become a paragon of success.
So what did I done-did today?
I showered and brushed my teeth.
Made my bed.
Ate a nutritious lunch.
Sorted the craft closet.
Added to my give away pile.
Added to the trash pile.
Recognized that my closet was pretty organized before I even started.
Patted myself of the back.
Got a cramp as I realized how many more closets I have.
Success.
12.29.2011
Policy decisions
Honesty
Honestly, honesty is one of those subjects that bring out the worst in me. I like to think I am an honest person but my reality reveals me in a world of fabrication, exaggeration, and denial.
I make junk up.
For instance, if you call me and I am sleeping...I will try to make you believe that I am not.
"no. not asleep. just resting here. with my eyes closed. but I was about to get up anyway."
Now I can see how a person might want to pretend to be awake if they are caught napping by their boss in the middle of the workday. But tell me the sane reasoning behind feigning alertness when you are awakened at 7 am by your dad (or some other crazy morning person) who just randomly calls you before you have had your morning pee.
Am I trying to hide my slovenly nature? Is this an attempt to claim admiration? what?
How about this...I am driving in my neighborhood and I see this car with a wild paint job. Days later I see another car with a wild paint job. Might even be the same one but you don't really think about it. Another day, same neighborhood, crazy paint job car is spotted by my kid.
I might find myself saying "I know!! What is up with all these crazy paint jobs? I see these cars everywhere!"
I clean up the house. I do it every day.(see that may or may not be the exact truth)
I pick up shoes and clothes and other stuff. I get irritated at a kid seen dropping his coat on the floor. I might be heard saying "Get your coat off the floor! I picked up your coat at least four times today!!"...whether or not that is the truth.
I am supposed to be at a family function at 3pm. It takes 1 hr to drive to said function. I will get caught up with something and actually leave my house at 2:25. I will wait til I am in my car before I call family member and tell them..." We're on our way. Be there soon!" I will say this in such a way as to lead the listener to believe that we are almost there instead of revealing the reality that we just left and we will be at least 25 minutes late.
I know I am not the only one who has a problem with this.
"I will be ready to go in 5 minutes."
"Mommy just needs to finish this up. It will only be a sec."
"I'll be right there."
"Please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can."
(this one could actually be truth in some parallel universe. Problem is, I live in denial about how soon "I can" really is.)
What is the matter with me?
I am going to attempt a little self psychoanalysis here.
I hate conflict. I hate for you to be upset. I hate for me to be upset. I don't want to look bad. I want you to like me. I want you to believe the best about me. I do not want to admit that I have failed or fallen short of the "norm". I want to live up to your expectation. I want to exceed your expectation. More is better. My reality is not good enough.
Will the world spin off its tilt if I tell the truth? Will my technicolor life fade to gray if I reveal the unexaggerated facts? Will I physically shrink as you think less of me based on my realistic time approximations?
Interesting thoughts.
Let's try it.
"Yes, I was asleep. It is 7 am. I will be up at 10."
"Cool. I have seen that car a few times now. Maybe they live near here."
"Pick up your coat if you want to live." (ok...that is as truthful as I can make it)
"I am going to be 25 minutes late. I am just leaving. I am sorry to be late."
"I don't know how long this will take. I will try to be quick."
Learning to live in reality. It is a hard thing.
Note to self (and others) --
Face your own limitations and understand that your denial of the physical laws of nature (ie; time, distance, money, personal accountability) does not bless the ones around you as they wait for your super powers to be revealed.
***********************
Topic two...for another day....
Making promises you can't keep.
Honestly, honesty is one of those subjects that bring out the worst in me. I like to think I am an honest person but my reality reveals me in a world of fabrication, exaggeration, and denial.
I make junk up.
For instance, if you call me and I am sleeping...I will try to make you believe that I am not.
"no. not asleep. just resting here. with my eyes closed. but I was about to get up anyway."
Now I can see how a person might want to pretend to be awake if they are caught napping by their boss in the middle of the workday. But tell me the sane reasoning behind feigning alertness when you are awakened at 7 am by your dad (or some other crazy morning person) who just randomly calls you before you have had your morning pee.
Am I trying to hide my slovenly nature? Is this an attempt to claim admiration? what?
How about this...I am driving in my neighborhood and I see this car with a wild paint job. Days later I see another car with a wild paint job. Might even be the same one but you don't really think about it. Another day, same neighborhood, crazy paint job car is spotted by my kid.
I might find myself saying "I know!! What is up with all these crazy paint jobs? I see these cars everywhere!"
I clean up the house. I do it every day.(see that may or may not be the exact truth)
I pick up shoes and clothes and other stuff. I get irritated at a kid seen dropping his coat on the floor. I might be heard saying "Get your coat off the floor! I picked up your coat at least four times today!!"...whether or not that is the truth.
I am supposed to be at a family function at 3pm. It takes 1 hr to drive to said function. I will get caught up with something and actually leave my house at 2:25. I will wait til I am in my car before I call family member and tell them..." We're on our way. Be there soon!" I will say this in such a way as to lead the listener to believe that we are almost there instead of revealing the reality that we just left and we will be at least 25 minutes late.
I know I am not the only one who has a problem with this.
"I will be ready to go in 5 minutes."
"Mommy just needs to finish this up. It will only be a sec."
"I'll be right there."
"Please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can."
(this one could actually be truth in some parallel universe. Problem is, I live in denial about how soon "I can" really is.)
What is the matter with me?
I am going to attempt a little self psychoanalysis here.
I hate conflict. I hate for you to be upset. I hate for me to be upset. I don't want to look bad. I want you to like me. I want you to believe the best about me. I do not want to admit that I have failed or fallen short of the "norm". I want to live up to your expectation. I want to exceed your expectation. More is better. My reality is not good enough.
Will the world spin off its tilt if I tell the truth? Will my technicolor life fade to gray if I reveal the unexaggerated facts? Will I physically shrink as you think less of me based on my realistic time approximations?
Interesting thoughts.
Let's try it.
"Yes, I was asleep. It is 7 am. I will be up at 10."
"Cool. I have seen that car a few times now. Maybe they live near here."
"Pick up your coat if you want to live." (ok...that is as truthful as I can make it)
"I am going to be 25 minutes late. I am just leaving. I am sorry to be late."
"I don't know how long this will take. I will try to be quick."
Learning to live in reality. It is a hard thing.
Note to self (and others) --
Face your own limitations and understand that your denial of the physical laws of nature (ie; time, distance, money, personal accountability) does not bless the ones around you as they wait for your super powers to be revealed.
***********************
Topic two...for another day....
Making promises you can't keep.
10.26.2011
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.
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.
10.22.2011
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.
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.
9.27.2011
it is not ok
and then she hauled off and whacked him good.
I bet it felt really good too. At least to her. He had been bugging her all day...as is his way...and she had had it up to here.
I didn't see it coming. The hitting. I had heard rumors on other days and heard scuffles in other rooms but if it had happened before, it was out of my sight. People would get a lecture as I looked down my proverbial nose and shook my verbal finger. But you know, I didn't see those incidents happen. Everything was dealt with after the fact. And honestly, it is easier to deal with minor stuff that way.
This, right in front of me, had to be dealt with. Now.
dangit.
So I do the drill. (and here, dear reader, you get a front row judgment seat in our court o justice)
"HEY...what just happened here?"
the brother sits stunned
the sister finds many multiple things to stare at that are everywhere but in my general direction
"did you just hit your brother?"
the silence, is deafening...tap tap helllloooo is this thing on???
"did. you. just. hit. your. brother?"
a slight upward motion of the head
sigh. "what has happened that you think it is ok to smack your brother?"
"he was messin with my Belle doll and he wouldn't stop" sniff, sniff...
innocent indignance jumps in..."I was just making her do flying leaps off the coffee table, we were having fun"
I address him first...
"have we talked before about being a bully? about how if you are the only one laughing then that is not playing...that is bullying..."
"uh-huh"
"so, were you treating her with love and respect?"
"uh-noooo"
"then you were wrong. what do you need to do?"
"uh-not do it anymore?"
"and?????"
"uh-apologize?"
"yes...but wait a minute"
now I talk to her...
"I know brother was seriously bugging you but when you hit him were you treating him with love and respect?"
blink blink
"would you like it if someone hit you because you were doing something they didn't like?"
"no mommy"
"does it show that you love your brother if you hit him?"
"no mommy"
"what do you need to do?"
"I'm sorry" she mumbles to the floor.
"It's ok" he grumbles.
And there it comes to a screeching halt.
"stop. wait a minute. this is not ok. it is not ok that she hit you. it is not ok that you were messing with her stuff when she told you to stop. this situation is not ok and saying sorry doesn't make it ok."
they both blink at me now.
"I do want you to forgive each other. That is very important. But it might not happen right here and now. Maybe you need some time to think. We will come back to this. But I want you to know it is not ok to treat each other like this."
and we go on.
We haven't revisited it yet. They may have forgotten it.
Or have they? Kids have a way of bringing stuff back up at the strangest times. I am just gonna see how this plays out.
So why am I telling you all this?
Well, (you knew I had a reason)
I am exploring a little something in myself. A little something I have a little trouble with.
A little something I like to call forgiveness.
I would swear on my bottom dollar that I have had no trouble with forgiveness. In fact, I was always the kid that would get upset and then calm down and be the first to forget what I was upset about. I was also the kid that could just brush things off. Didn't let it bother me.
Chose to pick my battles.
Easy going. Peacemaker. People pleasing. Passive aggressive. Stuffer.
uh yeah. it's a slippery slope people.
ok, let's back up a bit.
I grew up with the teaching that if someone did something bad to you they would say "sorry" (usually) and you would say "that's ok" and you would hug or whatever and that was it.
sorry+ok=forgiveness
Now, sometimes they would not say sorry.
bummer.
But you still had an obligation to forgive them. If they came back to you later and said "sorry" you could say something magnanimous like "it's ok, all forgotten" or "pshaw, I don't even know what you're talking about" or "hey, we all make mistakes". You might hug, or cry, or whatever...
All better.
Today I am just here to say bull puckey to all that.
I am here to confess that I never meant it. Not one time.
When you said "sorry" to me and I said "ok" to you I was lying.
I never once forgave any of you losers.
I thought I did. Does that make it any better?
I didn't plan your untimely demise. Well....ok maybe sometimes I did.
But I didn't put a hit out on ya.
I just took the not okay-ness and stuffed in a dark interior corner (somewhere near my appendix) and forgot about it.
Or not.
I just went on with life.
Then one year all that stuffed stuff decided to take a little party trip to ulcerville . For those of you who have never taken that trip, let me tell ya, it's a hoot.
Nice girls gone crazy and willing to bare her emotional headlights for just a couple of anger shooters and a promise of fame. woohoo!
When stuff that you have stuffed starts unstuffing you might want to run for cover. And if you are particularly responsible you might warn your loved ones. In a pinch I guess you could yell
"FORE".
Heads up people.
There might be crying...and yelling. Cuz when you realize that all those "ok'd" things are not ok you are gonna feel really ripped off. You are going to start looking for some doorsteps to lay blame on. You are going to feel victimized and brutalized and then you are gonna feel pissed off.
And well you should. You didn't deserve any of that.
It was not ok. It is not ok.
It has not become ok over time nor will it proceed to ok if you don't address it.
not ok.
But it is there. It doesn't go away. So what are you gonna do about it?
Well I don't know. I am not your counselor. I am not even your advisor. I do not have this figured out. I just know that I am just now learning to identify that my life has been filled with not ok things. I am learning to identify them and call them what they are.
And that, feels good.
So, maybe you too have identified some places that are not ok...and not forgiven. You know you need to forgive. All the health professionals will agree. I am not a health professional. Nor do I play one on tv...I, like you, am just a schmo who needs to learn to forgive or die a shriveled old prune.
Nobody wants that.
I need to know how to go from not ok to forgiveness.
At this point I don't even know the difference between the two. Let's explore that a bit.
OK means fixed. Over. All right. It means that what you did is excusable. Not as big a deal as we thought it was. Certainly retrievable. Retractable.
OK sometimes means that my feelings in the matter don't matter...or are put aside for the greater good.
The greater good being...your feelings.
yeouch.
Yeah...I'm sitting here thinkin....that really RIPS!
Seriously, I am awwllll worked up about this.
How come your feelings get to trump mine? Why do I have to make nice and put a cap on this situation when you were the one that did the wrong?
What's it gonna hurt you to say the sorry? If you don't mean it then it is just a word. If you do mean it then it might sting a little to say it but you deserve a little sting.
You wronged me and you should bear the brunt of it. You should feel some of the hurt.
Why do I, as the wronged one, have to alleviate your pain with my forgiveness?
Be honest here...isn't that the way you were trained?
What would have happened if your sister said "I'm sorry" and you crossed your arms and turned away??
I thought so.
Such an act would not have a passed unnoticed.
Mom woulda been on you like a duck on a junebug.
"now what do you say?"
"I for...give youuuu..."
"See! now isn't that all better? Everything is ok now."
here's me sticking out my mental tongue. nyaaaaaaa!
(for a kid...sticking out the tongue is kinda like flippin the bird...they just don't know it yet)
It's not ok!!! My arm still hurts. My feelings are still bruised and I want to poke you in the eye.
But I forgave you so it has to be all done.
Rubbish.
This situation is not over.
Just like sorry can be just a word...forgive can be nothing more than a word. You can mean it or not. Thing is, true forgiveness is way more than just a moment on the audible spectrum. I believe that forgiveness really comes when we realize that what has happened is not ok and we are choosing to do something about it.
We choose to be no longer passive, letting the unfairness of the situation take our power.
We decide that we will act for freedom. Both for ourselves and for the one who harmed us.
In choosing forgiveness we free ourselves from the weight of hate.
In giving forgiveness we free others from the weight of our hurt.
Sometimes, and I want you to listen carefully here, it takes more effort to drop a weight than it does to carry it.
Forgiveness hurts.
We have to realize that forgiveness is not a word, it is an action. Seriously, think about it. I can say "I am jumping now" and I can think it, wish it, decide it, faith it, and fake it all I want but unless I put my butt in gear and put some umph behind it, I aint leaving the ground. Same goes for forgiveness. It is going to take some physical effort on your part to make it happen.
Don't get me wrong, God can (and does) do miracles in the forgiveness department. He has ways, that guy. But generally you are gonna have to put some kind of effort into forgiving. And I believe that to develop the muscles it takes you are going to have to do some major reps. 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and...to be translated...I forgive and I forgive and I forgive and I forgive.
(maybe Jesus wasn't talking about 70 different transgressions but the same one being forgiven over and over and over and over and over...) (Matthew 18)
Oh my goodness...this is the first time I have ever thought about this scripture in this way!
I was always a little puzzled thinking "what a big loser! why would you be friends with someone who would sin against you so many times??!" duh.
I tell ya, exercising that forgiveness muscle 70x7 for every time you get ripped off is gonna make for one heckuva sixpack. whew!
I got a little sidetracked there and maybe a little too lighthearted.
We have established that forgiveness takes tenacity. What I wanted to talk about is how forgiveness takes courage.
To look at someone who has hurt you...most likely betrayed you in some way...and say to
them "I forgive you" and really mean it to the point that you can feel the blessed release of it...well, that is just almost too hard to think about.
The thing that makes it so very hard is that you have to accept that what happened was wrong. And then you have to move on. And let them move on too.
Let's go back to where I talked about wrong causing hurt and hate. Hurt and hate are burdens.
Big old bulky packages of poo. Weights that are either carried or left behind. When we forgive, we relieve the burden. Put it down. Leave it behind.
And in that action we also turn and lift that same burden off of our perpetrators shoulders too.
Now here is the sticky part...sometimes, I don't want to relieve them just yet...or ever.
I want them to feel the weight.
But, the stinky part here, if I require them to carry the weight...I will carry mine too.
That's how it works.
If I require them to carry my hurt I will continue to carry my hate.
So, practically speaking, it is in my best interest to forgive. It lightens my load. And the bonus, the mysterious part that only God understands, is that while they do benefit...we benefit more. Our heart gets better(maybe not all the way at first). Our stress reduces. Our compassion increases. We see our past better. We see our future brighter. We grow. We get lighter. wow.
And we never once have to say it didn't matter. We don't have to lie down or roll over or take it anymore.
Forgiveness does not mean "i deserved it"or "you had a good reason" or "it's no big deal".
We get to say "dang that hurt! You hurt me. It matters. I matter. That was not ok!"
and then, while recognizing the wrongness we can say the words and do the actions that bring forgiveness and while that does not make the action right, it can stop the perpetual wheel that keeps bringing the wrong around to be wrong again and again and again.
God has given us the power to put a stop to the pain. I wish it were instant. Sigh.
Here is a couple of things I am discovering...it makes my life make so much more sense....
I have always been soooo sorry when I have done somebody wrong. Like, hang my head, sackcloth and ashes, I am not worthy- sorry.
I think that some of that comes from the fact that this is the action I wished to see from those that had wronged me. I wanted them to prove the "sorry". No lip service.
and while I was much too mature and christian to require it of them...my heart wanted them to grovel.
So when I screwed up...I grovelled...or hid. Because that is what my heart required.
You are judged as you judge others???hmmmmm....my heart has been a very harsh judge. ugh.
Another thing I am learning is that forgiveness takes time. People might tell you to be quick to forgive and that might really be the best way but I do not believe that it is always possible.
Maybe we can forgive in layers. I don't know.
If that is how it works then right now I can forgive your lack of self control that resulted in a bruise on my arm but I am gonna have to get back to you about your underlying control issues and how that makes me feel like a toad.
Mostly tho, I just want to be able to take a little time to heal. I might need to process (and think of all the things I coulda/shoulda said at the time) and get to a place where I can let you be free of the pain you caused me. Don't hold yer breath.
It will come. But I won't be rushed.
Time.
In simple terms, I am learning to forgive. Yes, I still have major problems with it. But I am learning. I am learning that people are going to rip me off on a regular basis just like I am going to rip other people off. And that is not ok. But I can recognize the wrongness and decide not to hold it against them.
I can hope that others would do the same for me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
One last question. What if they never say “sorry” ?
I want you to think about this...in light of what we have been talking about...does sorry really matter?
Sure, it might help. But does it really play a part in your action of forgiveness?
Just something to think about.
9.02.2011
I love my job.
I remember a time in my life when I was crying daily because I was not dedicated enough in my Christian walk. I cried tears of self-loathing and guilt and shame over my obvious lack of desire to "go into all the world". I was having a regularly hard time keeping up with my little chicks at home and would repeatedly turn down offers to let me teach Sunday school, plan a senior party, or even sign up for dedicated hours of prayer.
I was just a big loser.
One day, I was particularly distraught about how I was unwilling to be like Heidi Baker.
She is this awesome missionary that loves on kids and does fabulous things abroad in dangerous countries and she seems to be really happy and fulfilled.
I moaned to God about how I was just a big wienie and how could He possibly love me when I couldn't even pretend to answer His call like Heidi Baker and go "seek and save".
Well, in the midst of my tears my Papa God whispered something to me. I am sure He had to repeat Himself because I was quite in a dither and not listening very well. When He finally got my attention I was shocked by what He said.
"I never asked you to be like Heidi Baker."
Well, that stopped me in my tear-stained tracks. I got really quiet and began to listen.
God began to lay out this picture for me about how He had called Heidi and how she was able to serve Him in joy because she was following Him. He talked about the trouble that starts when we get sucked into looking at other people's missions and taking them on as our own.
That'll suck the life right outta ya.
Then, He started pointing me back to my life. I started seeing my little family and how we go about our days loving Jesus and learning to be in relationship with Him. I smile when I think about this because raising my children is honestly the love of my life. I am good at it.
I am full of joy in it.
To use the words of Eric Liddell: I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.
I could feel the pleasure of Papa on me. Really feel it.
I listened for a while, and then I started getting all verklempt again about how I wasn't doing enough.
(I am a stubborn one. )
To which He kindly told me to just knock it off.
Once again He said something to me that changed my life.
"When you get really tired and feel like you need to do more just think about this...you are discipling 5 people 24/7. This is what I have asked you to do. For now, I think that this is enough to keep you busy."
He is really smart like that.
My job...my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to introduce my family to the Lord God of the Universe. I have a limited time. I will not do it perfectly. But if I am able to show them what relationship means I am hoping that they will leave me well equipped to do whatever it is that the Lord would have them do. All while really enjoying His company in the journey.
I believe that all other missions are peripheral.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul and all your strength.
There might be a reason He listed this first.
I love my job.
I was just a big loser.
One day, I was particularly distraught about how I was unwilling to be like Heidi Baker.
She is this awesome missionary that loves on kids and does fabulous things abroad in dangerous countries and she seems to be really happy and fulfilled.
I moaned to God about how I was just a big wienie and how could He possibly love me when I couldn't even pretend to answer His call like Heidi Baker and go "seek and save".
Well, in the midst of my tears my Papa God whispered something to me. I am sure He had to repeat Himself because I was quite in a dither and not listening very well. When He finally got my attention I was shocked by what He said.
"I never asked you to be like Heidi Baker."
Well, that stopped me in my tear-stained tracks. I got really quiet and began to listen.
God began to lay out this picture for me about how He had called Heidi and how she was able to serve Him in joy because she was following Him. He talked about the trouble that starts when we get sucked into looking at other people's missions and taking them on as our own.
That'll suck the life right outta ya.
Then, He started pointing me back to my life. I started seeing my little family and how we go about our days loving Jesus and learning to be in relationship with Him. I smile when I think about this because raising my children is honestly the love of my life. I am good at it.
I am full of joy in it.
To use the words of Eric Liddell: I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.
I could feel the pleasure of Papa on me. Really feel it.
I listened for a while, and then I started getting all verklempt again about how I wasn't doing enough.
(I am a stubborn one. )
To which He kindly told me to just knock it off.
Once again He said something to me that changed my life.
"When you get really tired and feel like you need to do more just think about this...you are discipling 5 people 24/7. This is what I have asked you to do. For now, I think that this is enough to keep you busy."
He is really smart like that.
My job...my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to introduce my family to the Lord God of the Universe. I have a limited time. I will not do it perfectly. But if I am able to show them what relationship means I am hoping that they will leave me well equipped to do whatever it is that the Lord would have them do. All while really enjoying His company in the journey.
I believe that all other missions are peripheral.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul and all your strength.
There might be a reason He listed this first.
I love my job.
7.05.2011
lazy in the eye...with diamonds
I have a lazy eye.
I got it as a small child when I had a high fever. Most people don't notice it. It is such a part of me that I forget about it sometimes.
There are people in my house that take it upon themselves to remind me.
My children think it is funny to talk about my lazy eye. They ask me to show it to them. They bring it up in conversation.They refer to it at the dinner table.
My response?
I laugh.
Sometimes I laugh because what they say is really funny. They get to me that way.
Sometimes I laugh because I am completely astounded at their sheer audacity.
What am I supposed to do?
Have I taught them nothing about manners and respect? Do I call further attention to my eye by yelling at them to stop?
Should I beat them?
Mostly I say "hey! that is not cool. We do not go around calling attention to others by pointing out the ways that they are different or odd."
They mumble something about being sorry. And I truly think they are. I try to keep it low key because it doesn't really bother me and I feel like making an issue of it will only compound the problem. We address it repeatedly...because it comes up repeatedly. Eventually it will sink in.
For now, lets face it, lazy eyes are just funny.
See, I can poke fun at this because it doesn't bother me. I don't remember being mocked because of my eye.
I was mocked because of my buck teeth. Then I got braces so that really isn't an issue anymore either.
(I did make my first child a bit neurotic because I would pray to God and command her teeth to line up in the name of Jesus...until, at the age of four, she asked me to please stop praying for her mouth...sigh)
So the Bucky Becky thing isn't really an issue.
Not. at. all.
Well ok, maybe a little bit.
Wanna know my real childhood issue?
Are you ready?
Baseball.
You heard me. Baseball.
I come from a ball family. Dad was a great catcher. Big brothers were constantly on the field, baseball, football, soccer. Big sister was a mean basketball player back in the day. Little sister could smoke em in Softball.
Me, notsomuch.
You might be wondering why I would even step onto a ball field. Well, when you come from a sports family you just do these things. There really is no thought about other options. If you say "I'd rather not play" you will be looked at like Grandma saying "these cinnamon rolls probably aren't worth eating"...nonsense. Of course you want to play.
C'mon Beck! Let's get on out there and hit some balls!!
I remember standing with a bat in hand at Pile-High Stadium (we played in a cow field).
Everyone was so encouraging to me.
"Come on Beck...you can do it. Keep your eye on the ball!"
Now you might just be thinking...which eye?
Think it all you want but don't ask it out loud. Even tho it doesn't bother me I might get irritated.
Don't get me wrong, I would laugh.
And then I'd punch you a little harder than necessary in the arm with one hand as I slapped my knee with the other.
But seriously, which eye? I have this little depth perception problem. I have a really hard time tracking a flying object that is hurtling towards my person at 50 something miles per hour.
Anyone with an ounce of athletic ability will say that such a thing is easily overcome. I beg to differ.
Well, I guess I can't really argue. It is that pesky "ounce of ability" that ruins my position on this matter.
See, I have not one ounce of said ability.
Nor do I want any.
Even tho, as a child I wanted more than breath itself to be able to knock that ball into next week.
But I just couldn't do it.
Honestly, I really should get points for chutzpah. (hoot-spa)
I would stand at the plate every Sunday afternoon and and beg for God to "please for everything that is good and right, please please please let me at least make contact with the ball".
I don't think He ever said yes.
I think I would remember.
I do remember feeling the humiliation of having the other team motion all the outfielders inside the baseline.
Yeah...that'll stoke your confidence.
The pitcher would walk forward to about midway between the mound and the plate and lob a gentle one right at my bat. I believe a toddler could have hit that ball.
A toddler with two good eyes that is.
I am ok with the fact that you are snickering.
I was mature enough to know when to swing the bat. I was just not capable of swinging it a straight line which is what was required to actually hit the ball.
I would swing mightily. And the ball would laugh as it hit the catchers glove. Nobody else laughed. They were busy yelling "good try Beck! Watch the ball, Beck! You can do it Beck!"
"Keep your eye on the ball Beck! " they would chorus and I would watch...as the ball danced its way past my bat two more times.
I knew how to watch the stupid ball ok? I just didn't know how to hit it with the stupid bat.
The very best thing about baseball was each time my at-bat was over. My torture had ended.
I did not step away from the plate in humiliation hanging on me. I stepped away in relief. I was done.
Praise God! (even tho He didn't say yes to my plea.)
I would return to the sidelines and read my book while my teammates took their turns at ball smacking.
I was free...until the next part.
Actually, the other part of baseball was not nearly so bad. In fact you might say that it was kind of payback for the batting humiliation. This part was called "in the field".
Now, when I say in the field, I mean in the field. That whole depth perception thing...yeah...I was no better at catching balls than I was at hitting balls. In fact, if you can believe this, I was even worse at it. At least I had an inner desire to hit the ball with the little stick.
In the field I had no desire, not one, in any part of my body, nope, no desire to catch that ball.
This is why they put me in the field.
Because they knew.
They knew from experience that should the ball come towards me I would duck. Or move out of the way. Maybe,on a good...really good...day I might stick my glove out but you can bet yer bottom dollar I would be praying hard for that ball to land anywhere else.
Picture me, wayyyy out in the field in my polyester shorts and buck teeth squeezing my eyes closed while holding a glove bigger than my head out in front of me and chanting "pleasegodpleasegodpleasegod-not-in-the-glove".
He always answered that prayer with a yes.
Then the ball would bounce and roll on past and I would open my eyes to see the rest of my team windmilling the air and shouting "GET THE BALL BECKY!" and I would turn and chase the bouncing ball and pick it up and throw it towards the infield and it would fly.
About three feet.
So I would (sort of) run up to it and pick it up again and it would go another three feet. And I might do this one more time before some big boy would lumber out and pick the ball and launch it all the way to home plate. Which was a good thing because that was where the runner was heading by now.
I think they should have been smarter about putting me wayyyy out in the field.
There is always gonna be a ringer on the other team that can knock it right through the hole and every man on that team knows just where the hole is...look for Becky...
I think the decision to put me out in the field was a calculated risk. I might miss every ball that flew at me but at least if I was out there...nobody would trip over me.
Thank goodness for small favors.
I mean that so seriously.
In the outfield is peace. No sweaty bodies barreling toward that tiny tiny white island that you defend. No hard flying objects launching toward your head every few minutes. Nobody breezing by you as you try and locate the ball visually while it jolts and bounces from glove to glove to glove.
Every glove except yours, that is.
Peace.
Like Ferdinand in his field of flowers I could reflect on life and witness from afar the ludicrous antics of the sportsmen infield. My sanity assured me no contusions, concussions, dislocations, or even rash. What's a little verbal harassment between friends (or siblings)? I could face it all if it meant that the ball, and my body, would not, under any conceivable circumstances, ever, make contact.
Ever.
And in my peaceful reflection I could laugh. These people would get so stressed out about that little ball.
What is up with that anyway??
Veins would bulge. Sweat would drip. Knees would bloody. Life and limb would be continually sacrificed to the baseball "gods"...all in the name of either stopping that ball, or launching that ball.
Silliness I tell ya.
I chose to rise above. To exist on a higher plane.
Maybe my utter failure at hitting the ball allowed me a certain superiority in my self preservating aloofness.
Nobody expected me to shine in the field. I was free from all preconceived notions about ability or might.
I could write my own ticket. And I did...
I chose to be cool. Too cool to care. Let the commoners do the dirty work. I had flowers to smell.
Baseball nirvana?? (Nirvana- in the state of being free from suffering)
Maybe.
But it would have been sweeter with one good hit.
I got it as a small child when I had a high fever. Most people don't notice it. It is such a part of me that I forget about it sometimes.
There are people in my house that take it upon themselves to remind me.
My children think it is funny to talk about my lazy eye. They ask me to show it to them. They bring it up in conversation.They refer to it at the dinner table.
My response?
I laugh.
Sometimes I laugh because what they say is really funny. They get to me that way.
Sometimes I laugh because I am completely astounded at their sheer audacity.
What am I supposed to do?
Have I taught them nothing about manners and respect? Do I call further attention to my eye by yelling at them to stop?
Should I beat them?
Mostly I say "hey! that is not cool. We do not go around calling attention to others by pointing out the ways that they are different or odd."
They mumble something about being sorry. And I truly think they are. I try to keep it low key because it doesn't really bother me and I feel like making an issue of it will only compound the problem. We address it repeatedly...because it comes up repeatedly. Eventually it will sink in.
For now, lets face it, lazy eyes are just funny.
See, I can poke fun at this because it doesn't bother me. I don't remember being mocked because of my eye.
I was mocked because of my buck teeth. Then I got braces so that really isn't an issue anymore either.
(I did make my first child a bit neurotic because I would pray to God and command her teeth to line up in the name of Jesus...until, at the age of four, she asked me to please stop praying for her mouth...sigh)
So the Bucky Becky thing isn't really an issue.
Not. at. all.
Well ok, maybe a little bit.
Wanna know my real childhood issue?
Are you ready?
Baseball.
You heard me. Baseball.
I come from a ball family. Dad was a great catcher. Big brothers were constantly on the field, baseball, football, soccer. Big sister was a mean basketball player back in the day. Little sister could smoke em in Softball.
Me, notsomuch.
You might be wondering why I would even step onto a ball field. Well, when you come from a sports family you just do these things. There really is no thought about other options. If you say "I'd rather not play" you will be looked at like Grandma saying "these cinnamon rolls probably aren't worth eating"...nonsense. Of course you want to play.
C'mon Beck! Let's get on out there and hit some balls!!
I remember standing with a bat in hand at Pile-High Stadium (we played in a cow field).
Everyone was so encouraging to me.
"Come on Beck...you can do it. Keep your eye on the ball!"
Now you might just be thinking...which eye?
Think it all you want but don't ask it out loud. Even tho it doesn't bother me I might get irritated.
Don't get me wrong, I would laugh.
And then I'd punch you a little harder than necessary in the arm with one hand as I slapped my knee with the other.
But seriously, which eye? I have this little depth perception problem. I have a really hard time tracking a flying object that is hurtling towards my person at 50 something miles per hour.
Anyone with an ounce of athletic ability will say that such a thing is easily overcome. I beg to differ.
Well, I guess I can't really argue. It is that pesky "ounce of ability" that ruins my position on this matter.
See, I have not one ounce of said ability.
Nor do I want any.
Even tho, as a child I wanted more than breath itself to be able to knock that ball into next week.
But I just couldn't do it.
Honestly, I really should get points for chutzpah. (hoot-spa)
I would stand at the plate every Sunday afternoon and and beg for God to "please for everything that is good and right, please please please let me at least make contact with the ball".
I don't think He ever said yes.
I think I would remember.
I do remember feeling the humiliation of having the other team motion all the outfielders inside the baseline.
Yeah...that'll stoke your confidence.
The pitcher would walk forward to about midway between the mound and the plate and lob a gentle one right at my bat. I believe a toddler could have hit that ball.
A toddler with two good eyes that is.
I am ok with the fact that you are snickering.
I was mature enough to know when to swing the bat. I was just not capable of swinging it a straight line which is what was required to actually hit the ball.
I would swing mightily. And the ball would laugh as it hit the catchers glove. Nobody else laughed. They were busy yelling "good try Beck! Watch the ball, Beck! You can do it Beck!"
"Keep your eye on the ball Beck! " they would chorus and I would watch...as the ball danced its way past my bat two more times.
I knew how to watch the stupid ball ok? I just didn't know how to hit it with the stupid bat.
The very best thing about baseball was each time my at-bat was over. My torture had ended.
I did not step away from the plate in humiliation hanging on me. I stepped away in relief. I was done.
Praise God! (even tho He didn't say yes to my plea.)
I would return to the sidelines and read my book while my teammates took their turns at ball smacking.
I was free...until the next part.
Actually, the other part of baseball was not nearly so bad. In fact you might say that it was kind of payback for the batting humiliation. This part was called "in the field".
Now, when I say in the field, I mean in the field. That whole depth perception thing...yeah...I was no better at catching balls than I was at hitting balls. In fact, if you can believe this, I was even worse at it. At least I had an inner desire to hit the ball with the little stick.
In the field I had no desire, not one, in any part of my body, nope, no desire to catch that ball.
This is why they put me in the field.
Because they knew.
They knew from experience that should the ball come towards me I would duck. Or move out of the way. Maybe,on a good...really good...day I might stick my glove out but you can bet yer bottom dollar I would be praying hard for that ball to land anywhere else.
Picture me, wayyyy out in the field in my polyester shorts and buck teeth squeezing my eyes closed while holding a glove bigger than my head out in front of me and chanting "pleasegodpleasegodpleasegod-not-in-the-glove".
He always answered that prayer with a yes.
Then the ball would bounce and roll on past and I would open my eyes to see the rest of my team windmilling the air and shouting "GET THE BALL BECKY!" and I would turn and chase the bouncing ball and pick it up and throw it towards the infield and it would fly.
About three feet.
So I would (sort of) run up to it and pick it up again and it would go another three feet. And I might do this one more time before some big boy would lumber out and pick the ball and launch it all the way to home plate. Which was a good thing because that was where the runner was heading by now.
I think they should have been smarter about putting me wayyyy out in the field.
There is always gonna be a ringer on the other team that can knock it right through the hole and every man on that team knows just where the hole is...look for Becky...
I think the decision to put me out in the field was a calculated risk. I might miss every ball that flew at me but at least if I was out there...nobody would trip over me.
Thank goodness for small favors.
I mean that so seriously.
In the outfield is peace. No sweaty bodies barreling toward that tiny tiny white island that you defend. No hard flying objects launching toward your head every few minutes. Nobody breezing by you as you try and locate the ball visually while it jolts and bounces from glove to glove to glove.
Every glove except yours, that is.
Peace.
Like Ferdinand in his field of flowers I could reflect on life and witness from afar the ludicrous antics of the sportsmen infield. My sanity assured me no contusions, concussions, dislocations, or even rash. What's a little verbal harassment between friends (or siblings)? I could face it all if it meant that the ball, and my body, would not, under any conceivable circumstances, ever, make contact.
Ever.
And in my peaceful reflection I could laugh. These people would get so stressed out about that little ball.
What is up with that anyway??
Veins would bulge. Sweat would drip. Knees would bloody. Life and limb would be continually sacrificed to the baseball "gods"...all in the name of either stopping that ball, or launching that ball.
Silliness I tell ya.
I chose to rise above. To exist on a higher plane.
Maybe my utter failure at hitting the ball allowed me a certain superiority in my self preservating aloofness.
Nobody expected me to shine in the field. I was free from all preconceived notions about ability or might.
I could write my own ticket. And I did...
I chose to be cool. Too cool to care. Let the commoners do the dirty work. I had flowers to smell.
Baseball nirvana?? (Nirvana- in the state of being free from suffering)
Maybe.
But it would have been sweeter with one good hit.
6.25.2011
confessions of a vocabulary snob...
Today I would like to invite you into my world. Not my outside world, my brain world. My inside world where I form thoughts that may or may not make sense. It is a scary place.
The following is a record of a faux paux. My faux paux. Not my finest hour.
Read it all in one breath (or out loud) as if I were telling it to you face to face. It might actually make sense that way...
--------------------------------------
why did I say it?
you feel like it is a safe place...you want to contribute to the
conversation...hey, you want people to think you actually know something.
You bypass the fact that you are sitting in a room with a teacher, a
lawyer, and an engineer...
you do get credit for first saying "forgive my ignorance" but after
that you just blurt out what you discover later could be the stupidest
thing ever said.
at least it wasn't world politics or anything like that...then again
maybe world politics would have been a better venue because you could
have taken refuge in the dream that maybe YOU are the ever-elusive
undiscovered political genius of the current age...ahh, that would
have been nice...to leave them guessing...wondering at your wit.
Now you know that they are wondering all right...wondering at how you
go about your day with only half of one. (wit that is...)
Again I will state that it wasn't or at least shouldn't have been a big
deal. But it is...a big deal...
because I am kicking myself...because I am sitting here...in a soon to
be puddle of tears...agonizing..."why oh why God? why did it have to
happen?"
me...revealed....unveiled....uncut...LIVE and in full view...
maybe I thought it was a word from the Lord.
maybe it was...and he is giggling now...like when your kid says
HEY LOOK AT THAT BIG F*** when you have been trying and trying to
teach him to say Big Truck but he just cant seem to say that TR sound.
and you giggle...because he is young and precious and cute...and you
are horrified that he will say it really really loud in public.
Or you giggle secretly when your same precious offspring says....and
this time IN PUBLIC...
"hey mommy look at the kids with the chocolate heads" (meaning of
course the African-American people just down the isle from you in Target)
you want to die...but you giggle inside because again...he is so young
and cute and innocent.
So I am going to claim that for myself...last night I was fully
operating as my young, cute, innocent self when we were talking about
glass blowing and I said...
"pardon my ignorance (which I really didn't mean exactly but was trying
to cover my behind JUST IN CASE but I was thinking I really did have a
word from the Lord or better yet my own personal genius...yes I admit
it, I thought I had pulled it out of oblivion, or out of the vast
resources of my fertile intellect)
I said..."I think the word for that is fromage. "
yes folks...you so highly esteemed to be learned and intelligent...
fromage. go look it up if you must but I think that EVERYONE here
knows that fromage means
CHEESE!
cheese! good grief!!!! not a fancy french word for shoe, or donkey, or
wallpaper....CHEESE!
and a common word to boot.
AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I feel so pitiful, so low, so humiliated.
I just needed to share with you all... to find comfort and solace in
your love and understanding. To be here with you where I can count on
you to help me find the pieces of my shattered bleeding heart.
Help me....
I am confessing my arrogance...and revealing the pale white underbelly
of my pride...it will lead to my downfall...
can you restore me...
is there any hope?
I love you all...
B
In case none of that made sense here is the short of it...
I was sitting in a room with some very intelligent (as in book learned) people. We were talking (these highly intelligent people and I) about glass blowing, specifically when they make these little glass animals. And the word fromage came to my head...so I said it.
The following is a record of a faux paux. My faux paux. Not my finest hour.
Read it all in one breath (or out loud) as if I were telling it to you face to face. It might actually make sense that way...
--------------------------------------
why did I say it?
you feel like it is a safe place...you want to contribute to the
conversation...hey, you want people to think you actually know something.
You bypass the fact that you are sitting in a room with a teacher, a
lawyer, and an engineer...
you do get credit for first saying "forgive my ignorance" but after
that you just blurt out what you discover later could be the stupidest
thing ever said.
at least it wasn't world politics or anything like that...then again
maybe world politics would have been a better venue because you could
have taken refuge in the dream that maybe YOU are the ever-elusive
undiscovered political genius of the current age...ahh, that would
have been nice...to leave them guessing...wondering at your wit.
Now you know that they are wondering all right...wondering at how you
go about your day with only half of one. (wit that is...)
Again I will state that it wasn't or at least shouldn't have been a big
deal. But it is...a big deal...
because I am kicking myself...because I am sitting here...in a soon to
be puddle of tears...agonizing..."why oh why God? why did it have to
happen?"
me...revealed....unveiled....uncut...LIVE and in full view...
maybe I thought it was a word from the Lord.
maybe it was...and he is giggling now...like when your kid says
HEY LOOK AT THAT BIG F*** when you have been trying and trying to
teach him to say Big Truck but he just cant seem to say that TR sound.
and you giggle...because he is young and precious and cute...and you
are horrified that he will say it really really loud in public.
Or you giggle secretly when your same precious offspring says....and
this time IN PUBLIC...
"hey mommy look at the kids with the chocolate heads" (meaning of
course the African-American people just down the isle from you in Target)
you want to die...but you giggle inside because again...he is so young
and cute and innocent.
So I am going to claim that for myself...last night I was fully
operating as my young, cute, innocent self when we were talking about
glass blowing and I said...
"pardon my ignorance (which I really didn't mean exactly but was trying
to cover my behind JUST IN CASE but I was thinking I really did have a
word from the Lord or better yet my own personal genius...yes I admit
it, I thought I had pulled it out of oblivion, or out of the vast
resources of my fertile intellect)
I said..."I think the word for that is fromage. "
yes folks...you so highly esteemed to be learned and intelligent...
fromage. go look it up if you must but I think that EVERYONE here
knows that fromage means
CHEESE!
cheese! good grief!!!! not a fancy french word for shoe, or donkey, or
wallpaper....CHEESE!
and a common word to boot.
AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I feel so pitiful, so low, so humiliated.
I just needed to share with you all... to find comfort and solace in
your love and understanding. To be here with you where I can count on
you to help me find the pieces of my shattered bleeding heart.
Help me....
I am confessing my arrogance...and revealing the pale white underbelly
of my pride...it will lead to my downfall...
can you restore me...
is there any hope?
I love you all...
B
In case none of that made sense here is the short of it...
I was sitting in a room with some very intelligent (as in book learned) people. We were talking (these highly intelligent people and I) about glass blowing, specifically when they make these little glass animals. And the word fromage came to my head...so I said it.
Why it came to my head is a complete mystery to me. It just popped in. I said I wasn't sure about it....
one almost unrecoverable tragical thing about this whole thing...
the smarty smart lawyer man to whom the fromogenous comment was directed tried to save me. He looked me smack in the eye and said "well, if it doesn't mean that (glass-blowing) it could mean cheese." and I nodded me head and said "sure, ok"...and I didn't pick up on it. Not for a second. But the word just bounced around my head...fromage...fromage....fromage....until finally hours later it exploded into a drippy splat of fromogarious goo as my brain woke up from soundest sleep and uttered "CHEESE". Oh sweet potato soup...what had I DONE?????!!!!!
one almost unrecoverable tragical thing about this whole thing...
the smarty smart lawyer man to whom the fromogenous comment was directed tried to save me. He looked me smack in the eye and said "well, if it doesn't mean that (glass-blowing) it could mean cheese." and I nodded me head and said "sure, ok"...and I didn't pick up on it. Not for a second. But the word just bounced around my head...fromage...fromage....fromage....until finally hours later it exploded into a drippy splat of fromogarious goo as my brain woke up from soundest sleep and uttered "CHEESE". Oh sweet potato soup...what had I DONE?????!!!!!
the next day I searched and searched on the internet...trying in vain to cover my large and unfortunately exposed behind...no luck. Google could not come up with one single way that fromage could mean glass.... it means cheese...ever. single. time. ugh...
I have yet to recover.
I have yet to recover.
And that, is my sad sad story.
2.28.2011
Peace vs War...the part where it gets exciting...(part 3)
Prayer, ultimately is submitting oneself to the will of God..
When you pray for understanding you are saying,
"Lord, I submit myself to your wisdom. I do not and cannot know these things without your help. I acknowledge your sovereignty and submit myself wholly to your guidance."
When you ask the Lord for healing-for yourself or for someone else-you are not begging and certainly not ordering a healing from God. You are acknowledging by word and deed, I could go so far as to say, by faith, accepting and admitting your need. Placing yourself and others into the active working will of God.
"Lord, I acknowledge the need for your activity in this situation. I cannot bring this healing. If it comes- when it comes- for ultimately all death and disease will end in complete wholeness in your name...You alone will be praised as the author and administer of peace. I fully submit my body, wants, and wills to your care knowing that you alone secure my fate."
If you believe that God is in control and willing for you to have goodness with Him and in Him, then you cannot pray in a position of begging or ordering.
You need not beg, for His desire is always for you and your best.
You need not order as it goes without saying that you do not order God. And, believing in His sovereignty you need not feel the burden of ordering either angels n your behalf or enemy forces on His. He can take care of these details. He will. He does.
Your prayer humbles all lofty designs and ideals dwelling in your own realm and places them firmly and decidedly into His.
All this- all of it- can be taken to a different level entirely when we talk about thankfulness. A prayer of thanks-and that given in faith- is truly the all encompassing boundary of prayer. To center yourself in a prayer-circle of praise born of thanks is to say,
"Lord thank you for your completion. Thank you for encircling me in your wholeness. Thank you for your peace that passes all my understanding. I fully accept it now. Thank you."
Sidenote....
You may be given the gift of warfare. You may be given the gift of boundless faith. You may believe that God puts on you and in you the ability to relentlessly accost the enemy and pound it into submission. You believe that God supplies the might through your words or faith or prayers. You may believe that you have within you the bottomless pools of divine reliance. You look to God believing that He wields His power according to His good measure and your place is to walk in His strength, rising up in His name. Sometimes these two ways of thought are completely interchangeable.
Even typing them out I see that, depending on your mood, you might just find this paragraph absurdely redundant.
If you are nodding in the affirmative then you might need to go read parts one and two of this prayer sequence. (ugh...the thought that I even have a three part is annoying)
Ok so if you read those then you might see that I have a problem with prayer as warfare.
I want to say it is unnecessary. But I cannot say that. yet.
I just don't get it. I don't feel like it is for me. It makes me feel very stressed out. I think it pumps some people up. I also get stressed out by the thought of singing songs to people to bless them. There are people out there that are totally called to just such a position in the name of God. Praise Him in all His goodness that I am not one of those. Sheesh I get chills (as in heebyjeebies not goosebumps) just thinking of such things.
So when I did warfare I felt like David in Saul's armor. The size of the weapons made me completely inadequate for the task at hand. I need less stuff. Less words. (quit laughing)
I see that there are some out there that fit the armor quite nicely.
I just want to say it again and again and again...freedom. I want to bless you to do what you need to do in the name of Jesus. And I want, want, want, to feel the freedom to do the same.
So I promise to try and quit thinking about how unnecessary your war prayers are. And you quit thinking that I am lazy for not engaging the enemy and kickin butt. k?
Back to those thankfulness prayers.
Did you ever see Mad magazine back in the day? They always had this picture on the back that was pointed in its own way but if you folded it in half in a certain way where the arrows matched up you would see this entirely new picture.
Yeah. I think prayers of thanks are like that.
You, as a thankful believer, get to reach across time and space and pull God's reality into touch with your perception. Another way to look at it...you get to step across all the begging and the whining and the ordering and pounding and all the other stuff right into the very gates of God.
Remember the scripture...I will enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart....
What if that is like the keys to the kingdom??!
"Thank you God" = step right on in.
New picture entirely.
Our readiness to accept His will and thank Him for everything gives us a pretty cushy dwelling place within the city gates of the Almighty.
Thank you Jesus. All done.
When you pray for understanding you are saying,
"Lord, I submit myself to your wisdom. I do not and cannot know these things without your help. I acknowledge your sovereignty and submit myself wholly to your guidance."
When you ask the Lord for healing-for yourself or for someone else-you are not begging and certainly not ordering a healing from God. You are acknowledging by word and deed, I could go so far as to say, by faith, accepting and admitting your need. Placing yourself and others into the active working will of God.
"Lord, I acknowledge the need for your activity in this situation. I cannot bring this healing. If it comes- when it comes- for ultimately all death and disease will end in complete wholeness in your name...You alone will be praised as the author and administer of peace. I fully submit my body, wants, and wills to your care knowing that you alone secure my fate."
If you believe that God is in control and willing for you to have goodness with Him and in Him, then you cannot pray in a position of begging or ordering.
You need not beg, for His desire is always for you and your best.
You need not order as it goes without saying that you do not order God. And, believing in His sovereignty you need not feel the burden of ordering either angels n your behalf or enemy forces on His. He can take care of these details. He will. He does.
Your prayer humbles all lofty designs and ideals dwelling in your own realm and places them firmly and decidedly into His.
All this- all of it- can be taken to a different level entirely when we talk about thankfulness. A prayer of thanks-and that given in faith- is truly the all encompassing boundary of prayer. To center yourself in a prayer-circle of praise born of thanks is to say,
"Lord thank you for your completion. Thank you for encircling me in your wholeness. Thank you for your peace that passes all my understanding. I fully accept it now. Thank you."
Sidenote....
You may be given the gift of warfare. You may be given the gift of boundless faith. You may believe that God puts on you and in you the ability to relentlessly accost the enemy and pound it into submission. You believe that God supplies the might through your words or faith or prayers. You may believe that you have within you the bottomless pools of divine reliance. You look to God believing that He wields His power according to His good measure and your place is to walk in His strength, rising up in His name. Sometimes these two ways of thought are completely interchangeable.
Even typing them out I see that, depending on your mood, you might just find this paragraph absurdely redundant.
If you are nodding in the affirmative then you might need to go read parts one and two of this prayer sequence. (ugh...the thought that I even have a three part is annoying)
Ok so if you read those then you might see that I have a problem with prayer as warfare.
I want to say it is unnecessary. But I cannot say that. yet.
I just don't get it. I don't feel like it is for me. It makes me feel very stressed out. I think it pumps some people up. I also get stressed out by the thought of singing songs to people to bless them. There are people out there that are totally called to just such a position in the name of God. Praise Him in all His goodness that I am not one of those. Sheesh I get chills (as in heebyjeebies not goosebumps) just thinking of such things.
So when I did warfare I felt like David in Saul's armor. The size of the weapons made me completely inadequate for the task at hand. I need less stuff. Less words. (quit laughing)
I see that there are some out there that fit the armor quite nicely.
I just want to say it again and again and again...freedom. I want to bless you to do what you need to do in the name of Jesus. And I want, want, want, to feel the freedom to do the same.
So I promise to try and quit thinking about how unnecessary your war prayers are. And you quit thinking that I am lazy for not engaging the enemy and kickin butt. k?
Back to those thankfulness prayers.
Did you ever see Mad magazine back in the day? They always had this picture on the back that was pointed in its own way but if you folded it in half in a certain way where the arrows matched up you would see this entirely new picture.
Yeah. I think prayers of thanks are like that.
You, as a thankful believer, get to reach across time and space and pull God's reality into touch with your perception. Another way to look at it...you get to step across all the begging and the whining and the ordering and pounding and all the other stuff right into the very gates of God.
Remember the scripture...I will enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart....
What if that is like the keys to the kingdom??!
"Thank you God" = step right on in.
New picture entirely.
Our readiness to accept His will and thank Him for everything gives us a pretty cushy dwelling place within the city gates of the Almighty.
Thank you Jesus. All done.
Peace vs War...the sequel (part 2 of 3)
You know I am totally bogus when I say I don't pray. I do. I ask Him for stuff.
I asked Him to fix my dryer this morning. (Does it count if I don't care if He does it or not?)
I would like to not pay for a new one. But I am fine with a new one if that is what He has in mind. It would be better if He just sent one. Or if He just fixed the one I have. That is wayyy easier.
So I prayed. I guess it is just that it is "dude...dryer..." quick shoulder shrug. done.
Pretty much so simple that it feels illegitimate. And I find that my "wants" just take such a backseat to His desires for me.
I would rather He have His way than give me my own.
There is this great scene at the end of Pollyanna, Where the townspeople are gathered to pray for her on her sickbed and the preacher (I think?) says something to the effect of "Lord we ask you to leave her here with us but if you decide to take her then you had better help us understand why."
I love that scene.
I love it because the guy is being so very real about what he wants. And he is trusting that God is in control whichever way it goes. And he is unafraid to tell God his heart. It seems like resignation. And I guess it is. But it feels so trusting. The two can be one in the same I guess.
So when reading all these scriptures listed for "prayer" it seems that they speak of different activities. Wishes, asking, drawing near, to name a few.
Some prayers seem to draw another person near to God. To raise them up, so to speak.
Some seem to be spoken like you would say "my wish...or desire...for you".
Some seems to be listening and waiting.
Sometimes for ones self, often times for others.
There are some (and they are few) like Col 4:3 that make me think spiritual warfare. At least when you look at this scripture alone...and in this version.
Col 4:3
And making prayer for us, that God may give us an open door for the preaching of the word, the secret of Christ, for which I am now in chains; (BBE)
It seems that you are praying to make a way. To back off the forces of the enemy? Making a way for God to be able to open a door.
But if you look at a different version...NIV
"...And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message,..."
This seems to be asking the reader to ask God for something for him. A petition on his behalf. And why is that necessary?
If they are spreading the Word won't God make that way for them?
Are they addressing something in the Hebrew mindset that existed on certain traditions and regulations in regard to how they approached God?
Could we say it really is all this simple... Prayer is talking to God.
All these scriptures are references from one Christian brother to another asking to be remembered. "Oh and when you are in prayer (assuming that Christian brothers do have an active talking and listening time with Father) would you talk some about me?"
Because you don't want to say "Oh, wish me luck as I go out and preach tomorrow".
So you say pray for me. Is that it?
Why does the church have to make it so complicated?
Is it like when you get a new bookcase and you can see plain as day that the long pieces stand up and the short pieces go across and the little metal things stick in the holes to hold the shelves up.
But you get a six page booklet in three languages telling you to put peg A into hole B at intervals of no less that three inches (cuz that is where the holes are placed) and make sure that plank C and plank D have their holes facing in (because otherwise...duh...you couldn't put the shelves on).
Is that it?
Because that makes me sound so stinkin arrogant like I have it all figured out and the bible is for beginners. And I SO don't mean that.
It just seems that prayer is taught so complicated.
And it is so simple.
And the great and funny thing about it is that you can do it so many ways it would make your head spin. (and sometimes it does...heheheh)
You can shout and jump up and down and mumble and sing and sit and stand on your head and hula and cry and all those things that I have taught my kids countless times.
You don't have to bow your head or close your eyes or even say amen. Gasp!
So I do believe in prayer.
Makes me chuckle tho. I wonder if God was addressing this issue when He instructed to go into the closet.
"Quit talking so much about how you do it. Just doesn't matter. Get er done. "
I have heard people talk ad nauseam about having a "rich prayer life" and all it ever did was make me neurotic.
The words of Jesus say (and I know there is tons of teaching on this already but here is my take)
Father in heaven
may your name be kept holy
my wish is for your will to be done here
and your kingdom to reign here
like it does up there (I like how you do things)
thank you in advance for the bread and stuff you give me today
for today is all you have promised (as it is the day where you dwell)
and thank you in advance for forgiving me.
i am going to make a point to forgive the ones that wrong me today and be really glad that you are doing the same
and again, thank you for keeping out of the bad stuff I tend to want to get into.
I am saying this in advance knowing that you are on top of it.
oh, and if I am to believe some of the translations...It's all about you dude! Thanks again.
Simple right?!
(I hope lightning don't hit me.)
I asked Him to fix my dryer this morning. (Does it count if I don't care if He does it or not?)
I would like to not pay for a new one. But I am fine with a new one if that is what He has in mind. It would be better if He just sent one. Or if He just fixed the one I have. That is wayyy easier.
So I prayed. I guess it is just that it is "dude...dryer..." quick shoulder shrug. done.
Pretty much so simple that it feels illegitimate. And I find that my "wants" just take such a backseat to His desires for me.
I would rather He have His way than give me my own.
There is this great scene at the end of Pollyanna, Where the townspeople are gathered to pray for her on her sickbed and the preacher (I think?) says something to the effect of "Lord we ask you to leave her here with us but if you decide to take her then you had better help us understand why."
I love that scene.
I love it because the guy is being so very real about what he wants. And he is trusting that God is in control whichever way it goes. And he is unafraid to tell God his heart. It seems like resignation. And I guess it is. But it feels so trusting. The two can be one in the same I guess.
So when reading all these scriptures listed for "prayer" it seems that they speak of different activities. Wishes, asking, drawing near, to name a few.
Some prayers seem to draw another person near to God. To raise them up, so to speak.
Some seem to be spoken like you would say "my wish...or desire...for you".
Some seems to be listening and waiting.
Sometimes for ones self, often times for others.
There are some (and they are few) like Col 4:3 that make me think spiritual warfare. At least when you look at this scripture alone...and in this version.
Col 4:3
And making prayer for us, that God may give us an open door for the preaching of the word, the secret of Christ, for which I am now in chains; (BBE)
It seems that you are praying to make a way. To back off the forces of the enemy? Making a way for God to be able to open a door.
But if you look at a different version...NIV
"...And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message,..."
This seems to be asking the reader to ask God for something for him. A petition on his behalf. And why is that necessary?
If they are spreading the Word won't God make that way for them?
Are they addressing something in the Hebrew mindset that existed on certain traditions and regulations in regard to how they approached God?
Could we say it really is all this simple... Prayer is talking to God.
All these scriptures are references from one Christian brother to another asking to be remembered. "Oh and when you are in prayer (assuming that Christian brothers do have an active talking and listening time with Father) would you talk some about me?"
Because you don't want to say "Oh, wish me luck as I go out and preach tomorrow".
So you say pray for me. Is that it?
Why does the church have to make it so complicated?
Is it like when you get a new bookcase and you can see plain as day that the long pieces stand up and the short pieces go across and the little metal things stick in the holes to hold the shelves up.
But you get a six page booklet in three languages telling you to put peg A into hole B at intervals of no less that three inches (cuz that is where the holes are placed) and make sure that plank C and plank D have their holes facing in (because otherwise...duh...you couldn't put the shelves on).
Is that it?
Because that makes me sound so stinkin arrogant like I have it all figured out and the bible is for beginners. And I SO don't mean that.
It just seems that prayer is taught so complicated.
And it is so simple.
And the great and funny thing about it is that you can do it so many ways it would make your head spin. (and sometimes it does...heheheh)
You can shout and jump up and down and mumble and sing and sit and stand on your head and hula and cry and all those things that I have taught my kids countless times.
You don't have to bow your head or close your eyes or even say amen. Gasp!
So I do believe in prayer.
Makes me chuckle tho. I wonder if God was addressing this issue when He instructed to go into the closet.
"Quit talking so much about how you do it. Just doesn't matter. Get er done. "
I have heard people talk ad nauseam about having a "rich prayer life" and all it ever did was make me neurotic.
The words of Jesus say (and I know there is tons of teaching on this already but here is my take)
Father in heaven
may your name be kept holy
my wish is for your will to be done here
and your kingdom to reign here
like it does up there (I like how you do things)
thank you in advance for the bread and stuff you give me today
for today is all you have promised (as it is the day where you dwell)
and thank you in advance for forgiving me.
i am going to make a point to forgive the ones that wrong me today and be really glad that you are doing the same
and again, thank you for keeping out of the bad stuff I tend to want to get into.
I am saying this in advance knowing that you are on top of it.
oh, and if I am to believe some of the translations...It's all about you dude! Thanks again.
Simple right?!
(I hope lightning don't hit me.)
2.24.2011
Peace vs War
Peace vs War (part 1)
I am not the me you know...or used to know. (I bet you have been suspecting this already.) I have been called a prayer warrior. I used to be ok with that. Now? Notsomuch.
I pray...but not like I used to. Honestly, I just don't believe in it anymore. I tell God all my stuff. We talk. But I don't beg him for stuff. Not for healings. Not for guidance. Not for interference.
I can't do that and believe He is who He says He is.
This may sound horrible. "You don't ask God to guide you?"
Well, I do ask Him that. I do. You are right. I should not have said that. But I used to believe that I had to consult him in serious "prayer" before I did anything. Now I ask Him. And I trust Him. And I go on with my day.
If He is in complete control, and aware and in the middle of my every deed and thought...then why should I beg Him to guide, guard and direct me? I think He is already on top of that.
So you might say, "well what about the part where your words change the very atmosphere. What about joining with God in making His will be done...Kingdom come and all that."
Spiritual warfare. That is what we are talking about right? Ok.
Listen, I am not coming off of what I said before. I do think you are called to war sometimes. But what the heck are you doing? Forces of evil and all that. Spiritual warfare. I get it. I attended all the classes. I have read the books. Not for me. Not anymore.
I want you to remember that war used to be good for me. Or I believed that it was. I have participated in many a war dance. I have literally spun circles around and on top of enemy forces. I have slapped the walls of a church building. I have opened unseen doors between the pews to allow the church goers to get out and dance in the isles. I have prayed with words that ordered movements of heavenly forces to block enemy forces from every conceivable type of mischief imaginable. I have claimed healings and ordered healings. I have felt that as a daughter of the King I oughtta be about wielding my Fathers power often and with might. I just don't do those things anymore.
Now I tend to run to God. Like...every time. Before I try anything else. Instead of trying anything else. I just run.
Running scared? Maybe. But it doesn't feel like fear. If it was fear I would still tremble from my safety spot. But I don't. I feel like..."whew! God you got it. I am so thankful!"
Then there are times when the enemy waltzes into my house. And I'm all "dude...back OFF" In the name of Jesus.
But it feels so simple. And this IS easy.
(That is not saying that there aren't different levels of warfare... maybe some are more difficult than others.)
The simplicity comes in the fact that I fully get that this is not up to me. I get to stand up for myself and not be a victim, but the power behind the punch comes from the big Papa standing behind me. I seriously see the picture that I am a wee little pup all snarly and “fierce” getting all excited that my bark backed off he enemy. And if you pull back the camera to wide angle you see that behind me is this enormous drooling beast that will chomp any enemy and not even have to swallow if they dare mess with his pup. So when the enemy runs scared it is because of the enormity of my backup...not the fierceness of my bark. Lets just say that God (the big Dog) has given me this yard to protect. All that is within my home is my yard...my territory. The enemy is going to come calling. Yes, he is. And I am going to protect my yard. Bark-barkety-bark. Big Dog is standing right there. (He doesn't ever leave ya know.) Not ever.
Get this....His presence is what moves the enemy. I can bark. Or I can go sit behind Big Dog. Either way...the enemy backs off. I bark because He told me I could. Man it feels good. I used to think that it took lots of barking. I am beginning to realize more and more that I can just stand there and when that enemy gets aloada Who is sitting on the porch they are not coming any closer. Period.
Sometimes the enemy is just stupid enough to cross that fence. And I think that my Source
(Big Dog...in case you forgot) lets me get a big juicy mouthful of the part that came over the fence last.
He lets me feel the rush. He smiles knowing how good that felt. I love that He lets me play. But I know that all He has to do is raise an eyebrow and that idiot that crossed the fence will go flying back over.
So (back to human) I can say “dude back OFF, in the name of Jesus”. It feels great to have defended my territory but I know who really did the fighting. Simple, right?!
Maybe it is a "wax on-wax off" kind of thing. The moves are simple. Learn to trust and respond in very basic ways and you will be ready when the bigger hits come. I don't know.
I do know that my protection is not about making sure that I have done all the right things and said all the right words to keep myself safe. That is how it used to be when I was figuratively putting on the armor and feeling all the anxiety about the helmet not fitting right or a hole in the breastplate of righteousness.
Sheesh. I would just be a mess after armor donning. Nothing left to battle with. Like David in Saul's duds.
I do better with a rock and a sling and a BIIIIG God. I throw my rocks but it is God alone that plots the trajectory. Make sense?
Can I be there? Do I need to shut up to do that? Just shut up and fling rocks. Probably. I philosophize too much. That is for dang sure. (and by that I mean that I use too many words for such a simple thing)
Did Saul need his armor? I don't know!!! Maybe he did. Maybe he was a warrior and maybe I am not. Can I be ok with that? (philosophizing again) Maybe, and please don't hate me for this implication, but maybe.....just maybe Saul could have done more damage with less metal and more pebbles. Hmmmm.....
Some warriors...some rock flingers. ok.
About that armor.. I have been reading about it again in the Word...I really do not think it is about acquiring all these pieces and assembling them into a cohesive wall that you put around you. I think that it is a reminder that these things are available to you...as a Christian...reminding you that these are the things that protect you and that you can rely on them. It says "put on the full armor"...does it mean what I used to think?...grab it and strap it and shine it and belt it...no I don't think so.
I think that it means know it, acknowledge it, rely on it, use it. Use your faith, righteousness, truth. Use your gift...the Spirit of God! At the end..."take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God and pray in the Spirit on all occasions."
I think it is encouragement for me to not be a victim. I guess that there are some warrior spirits (maybe such as yourself) that need that to be a bit more aggressive. Maybe they are made with an inner thread that calls for head butting and saber rattling in order to feel the vitality of life. Maybe they neeeed to strap on that armor in a very physical way to feel accomplished. More action forward. Maybe it is just fine to read that scripture both...or a hundred different ways.
I am just saying that it does not mean to me what it used to. It is now more affirmative. More empowering. More faith building. These things are gifts from my Father. My righteousness can be full of holes but He gives me His. My truth knows it part...His sees the whole picture...
So have we established that I do still believe in that "war" part? I know that I seem to waffle a bit. I hope that I have somehow said that war is necessary and I know that we play different parts. I even know that I have a part to play in that war. But I think it takes a lot less words than I used to.
I used to really carry a heavy burden thinking that I needed to say the right words to carry out the heavenly plan.
I used to feel the weight of my faith...or lack of it. The weight of my faith in this sense was not the weight of His glory or the weight of His presence. It was not even the weight of His Spirit for action. It was just weight. (think back to the little pup/big Dog picture. The weight of my faith was like little pup actually believing that the bark was the catalyst for change or that silence meant enemy encroachment. )
I used to feel a guilt (even tho I could not have identified it) when "Gods will" was not carried out by the players involved. I used to feel like the enemy was running rampant and it was up to me (and others) to hold him back lest God's Kingdom be held bound and captive.
I do not feel that way anymore.
I guess the most words I use are directed to the universe (not in an astrological sense...) I tell the universe to back off in the name of Jesus. But I only do that if I feel led to do it. It doesn't happen very often. When my kids are sick...I thank the Lord for providing healing. Then I direct their bodies to line up with it. I tell the enemy to back off and I tell my lovie to be assured that God has this all under control. When people around me are in dire straights...I talk to God about my stress in it and I direct them (not out loud or even in their presence) to open their eyes to the presence of God in their midst.
Even that sounds like too strong in words. I don't tell anyone anything.
I don't tell God what to do or beg Him to do His best for me.
I just trust that He will.
And when I can't trust it I let Him know about how it really rips that He isn't doing things like I would have them done...and then I sometimes remember that He knows more than I do and maybe I should trust that. :-)
So, I just don't have much to say these days. Then again...I guess I do say a bunch...I just don't say it out loud.
Don't for one instant think I think your war way is wrong or bad. Nope. (ok, well maybe sometimes)
Just different. I could sit and listen to you pray...and I could stand in agreement with your need. But I do things differently these days. That is all.
You may hear some disappointment and disillusionment in my words.
But not in God. I am disappointed and disillusioned by all that I have seen and participated in in regards to "Godly" things and theology in the past 15 years. I do not really throw it all away because I know that it was vital to my growing. I learned a ton.
And actually, I am wrong to say "all" of it has left me flat. Not all...but so much!
I have found, in God, a trust. Peaceful. Astonishing at times. Magnificent.
And it is all about me at the very same time as it has nothing to do with me at all. It is there. And I get to participate. It has been given to me as a gift. And it is delightful.
It = trust.
When I look back to that last part of my life I find a woman in great turmoil. Now in fairness we could say that maybe she would have been in turmoil anyway. We could even say that this turmoil was necessary to her survival as it was often times a direct result of old woulds being reopened and cleaned in order for true healing to take place. Healing hurts. A Lot! But it is so much better on this side. So hear me well...I am not discounting all that.
You might wonder what this previous turmoil has to do with warfare and my part in it. I believed in warfare then. I was in turmoil then. Was the warfare necessary to come through the turmoil? Or did the warfare cause or increase the turmoil that was already present. I don't know.
I can tell you how it made me feel. When my world seemed to be crashing and my emotions were taking turns riding the rollercoaster of insanity it felt good to rail against unseen forces and whoop my war cries as I flailed about in my angst. It felt great in fact. I felt like I was accomplishing something. I felt powerful. It was intoxicating. And addictive. It also wore me out. I felt accosted all the time. I felt neurotic. I felt suspicious. When I wasn't hollering I was wailing. I was constantly asking God about that peace He promised. I couldn't seem to find much of it.
Now, my life is not in turmoil. I feel at peace. Maybe you would say that the previous war brought on a season of peace. Maybe you would be right. I don't know.
What I do know is that I walk through my day with the knowledge that I am completely covered. I don't have to fight for it, beg for it, order it or even claim it. It has been given to me. I acknowledge it. I accept it. I can rest completely. My everyday prayers are like conversation. Peaceful conversation. And even when I get heated I get it out and receive peace in return for my trust.
And just sometimes (but I suspect the enemy whispers) it feels like I am a big slacker and not doing anything. Cuz I wonder if it is true that there is a difference in "feeling" between the everyday prayer and the "bedroom" prayer. You know? Eating breakfast with your sweetie vs strawberries in front of the fire. But then I don't worry so much about that. Cuz I get both. But it is hardly ever big and blubbering like it has been in the past. But that was definitely a season. And may come again. I mean...I cried all the time then. About everything. And I am not there now. So is this making sense?
(I realize that I am lumping warfare prayers in with bedroom prayers here. Both of those being prayers that are full of passion and words and big emotional drama. I don't have any problem with drama. I am just trying to establish the difference between the drama and the everyday conversation. Have you noticed that when you are completely confident in your position it just hardly ever has to get to the drama level? That, my friend is what I am talking about living in peace.)
But!
I look at the teaching that I sat under back then, teaching full of aggression and violence. Teaching that said "reach out and grab it...take it...pursue it".
Aggressive meant that you really meant business. That you deserved this. That you were filled with the righteousness of God. And, if you couldn't be aggressive then it meant you were broken in some way and needed to be fixed. That fixing usually was borne with the "entrance" of the Spirit.
As if God was not present before.
It was presented to me (or I accepted it this way) that lining up with healing meant that somebody...some human...needed to move the enemy out of the way so that God could move in. This is like saying that little pup has to police the perimeter in order to make it safe and ready for big Dog to come out of the house for his daily constitutional.
I reject that. Totally and absolutely.
This is what I mean by walking in guilt. I would get so frustrated when "God's plan" was not happening. I would think quiet deep seated thoughts about how I or somebody was just not getting it done in the battle department. (me in the Saul armor)
I felt the weight of my inadequacy.
And I began surely to feel the weight of His.
Yes, I am actually saying that when I didn't see results I found myself questioning not only my inadequacy but also God's adequacy, love and presence.
I found myself asking again and again..."why can't you do anything about this?!
Why DON'T you do anything about this.?!"
I would flounder there a good majority of the time. And in those precious moments of closeness where I could feel the Lord in sweetness, His assurances of peace just simply did not match up with all the piteous cries for help that seemed ultimately beyond His hearing.
Have you heard the term "put your money where your mouth is"?
Yeah, I was constantly asking God about that.
So what has changed? For this moment in time I feel at rest. I feel at peace. Not dead mind you. But maybe death brought on some understanding.
When mama passed there was a tremendous about of pain. You know this. Yet there was also such a peace.
I saw some of my family stand right up to God and demand her healing. Maybe not in so many words but they were surely stamping their foot. They battled the enemy to keep her here. They ordered her body to be well. They stood in defiance against death. And after all was said and done, they lost. Death won.
WAIT!
Did it?
To their way of thinking yes. If she died, then death won.
But I don't agree. I see no defeat in her dying. The scriptures say, death has no sting. It has been conquered. Done. I am not simply toeing the party line here in saying "God's will be done...it was her time to go." No, I am looking deeper than that. I am saying that for all the fighting that went on in the hearts of the sweet ones battling for her life, there was an equal peace, acceptance, transcendence. (scary word)
There was available a peace beyond understanding. I know it was available because I partook of it. There was a trust in God that really trusted. Trusted that He was so completely in control that the enemy was absolutely barred. It makes my heart swell to think these things.
I believe that God is in control. And I believe that He does not need my help to stay there. If you go and look at all the great breakthroughs in your life I would bet my bottom dollar that they came when you gave up. When you resigned your will. When you said..."I don't know what to do here, can you take it?"
Now I am not saying that I do not ever feel angst. Boy do I feel angst! When mama was sick and on her way to Heaven I could be found full on anxiety. Or maybe it just looked like anxiety. Or maybe it was all inside and I looked calm on the outside. I could not tell you that.
I just know that when I really centered on God I felt at peace. When I took my eyes away...when I tried to take the steps on my own...I just could not do it. I began to sink every time.
Sound like anything you have heard before?
Another for instance; when I birthed my baby, I had a dear friend that came in and warred for my sake. She prayed mightily. But did she hold back the enemy with her warfare?
Or, did the manifest presence of God keep things on track that day.
Did He need my prayer warrior to do what she did in prayer? See, I don't know that answer.
But did God need her to say the words? Need it? No. You would agree with me there.
Did she need to say them? Yes. I needed her to say them. I couldn't even hear her but I knew she was there speaking health and beauty into my life.
(So her prayers were needed. But what was needed? Her warfare? Her speaking on my behalf?
Or did her words of prayer, offered in faith and love, become the comfort that she was praying about?)
I relied on her. On her love.
But my trust was in God.
I know hers was too! And if things had not gone as sweetly? Would I have blamed her?
No. Yet I would have blamed myself. (especially if I had been in her position)
And that blame is wrong. That prayer warrior mindset has got to be removed from the equation.
Or at least re-defined. In my opinion.
We have got to return to a trust in God's will. The current teaching is missing the point. Our parent's understood it. I have thought my parents fools because of their trust. Yet, I am returning to that old way. What has seemed to be a "turn over and die" philosophy (and who can say...maybe some of it is) has attracted me with it's simplicity. I would so recently have called it laziness.
But if I will believe in God, I will believe in His ability to accomplish His will according to His good purpose. And I will believe that He has the ability and the desire to bring all things together for my good. Get that. This is more than just believing in God. This is believing His heart... His goodness toward me. Throwing myself entirely on His love and goodness for me.
So, all things. For my good.
Yes, I said all things.
Even the things that seem outside His will. And I get that all the things that happen are not in His perfect will. I get that. I believe that. Bad things happen and He can turn them for good. Yes. But further....bad things happen within His will. Read that again. Ugh.
And I don't get all the ins and outs of that.
( And please God I do not want to be tested in all this. Just so ya know.)
And I reserve the right to amend any and all of this at any time. So check back with me.
What am I saying?
I am saying I think differently about the will of God and my part in it. I feel peaceful in trusting Him even when things look terrible. I don't always make it . I doubt a lot. But when my head clears I come back to this. Peace. The invitation from God to dwell with Him in that peace. Today is where He dwells. The enemy would like for me to live forever in a snit about securing my tomorrow or crying about my yesterday. The enemy would like to keep me at war with my future and my past. But today has been given to me with the invitation to spend it with my Lord. At peace. If the Lord of all, who can see ALLLL things, can be at peace with today...
well, maybe I can too.
That, truly, is a gift.
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