I started a post. Then I recognized the total negativity. I don’t want to publish that or dwell on it. That is the mindset I’ve been struggling with for a bit now. It’s not a mindset that is winning but it is a daily battle, a regular conscious decision to redirect thoughts, to set aside negativity, to focus on positives. The upside is I tend to channel through the gym and am setting & breaking PRs at a remarkable rate right now. I’m finding limits and pushing them just a bit further whether it’s through that last rep that doesn’t seem possible or breathing through nausea to complete a killer set. My body does what my brain tells it and my brain is tired of taking the easy path. There are things I can’t control in my life but this? This is all mine.
Disfigured
Do you see that? The cold sore? (Ignore the smeared eye make up and messy hair) (And bad lighting and composition) That? That is my immune system telling my body “eff you and your schedule. i’m done.” We’re working on a compromise that includes a nap this weekend.
RIP Kitten
I pulled into the driveway last night just as our roomie was walking out to her car. She ran over, hugged me and said “I LOOOOOVE you. Remember that.” My immediate reaction was to look at her suspiciously and ask “What have you done?” At that moment My husband came running out the door. He grabbed the back of her sweatshirt as she was desperately trying to escape and made her break the news. Our cat, Kitten, (shut up it fits fit him) was killed by a car.
She was home alone and the first hand account of her reaction coupled with my husband’s input on what she sounded like when she called him (near hysterically to hear him tell it) was, perhaps inappropriately, quite amusing. And so I giggled. Until Jon started describing the body to me.
Still. I haven’t had the emotional reaction that I expected. They obviously were looking for tears from me but I was removed enough from the event that it doesn’t seem real. Intellectually I understand that he’s dead and in a gruesome manner. Functionally though – he’s just gone. He went outside and hasn’t come back.
Oh I’ll miss him. I’ll miss his cuddles and his loud purrs and his head butts to the face. He was a good kitty.
Illusion broken
She sits across from me not quite meeting my gaze. We make small talk until she finally looks up with emotion filled eyes and sighs deeply. Quietly but quickly, as if she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve, she utters the words. “I don’t like my husband.” The dam broken, the words flow freely – doubt about compatibility, anger built from comments and criticisms, frustration from the realization that she barely loves him.
I want to take her hand, look through her tears and tell her this will pass, that it will be okay. I want to reassure her that it’s just a bit of a low point. But I can’t. I love her too much to lie to her. What I can do is tell her she’s not alone. I can’t say with certainty that ANY male/female couple is truly “compatible”. Men and women, we’re different at our core; the very essence that makes us what we are, it clashes and scrapes and irritates. It’s hard work, this marriage thing. The movies and fairy tales and books, they lie. The reality is a lifetime of swallowing your pride, of promoting the relationship instead of your own interests. It means setting aside what you want – even what you think you need sometimes – in order to fulfill the other’s needs, or to not overload them with yours.
But if both people have accepted the challenge, if each is striving to build the other up and willing to submit to God’s direction and growth, if you’re united in your commitment…well…then there are also giggles late at night and gasping laughter in the middle of a restaurant. You get to have entire conversations consisting of nothing more than half sentences and expressions. There are quiet moments to be cherished and loud events to be treasured. There is a life, together.
It’s hard. It’s a monthly, weekly or daily re-commitment. But it’s worth it. It won’t “just pass” but you can get through it. You’ll be uncomfortable but “okay” is possible. You’re not just at a low point, you’re in a valley; but you CAN climb out of it together.
My friend’s words belied the heaviness of her heart but her voice rang with determination and commitment. She’s frustrated but she recognizes God’s hand in this season. She understands that He will use this to continue molding her – and her husband – into His image. And she clings to His promises and hope.
In the midst of the conversation she said “You and Jon just seem so…perfect.” I shook my head emphatically, resolutely* as I thought “So do you guys.” You never know. You just never know you guys. That illusion will shatter someday. Can you be the friend to embrace the truth?
* I LIKE my husband. But we’re not perfect by any means.
Let’s hear it for the boys
Jon and I have three kids. I grew up with two sisters so although I never exactly planned on kids, I don’t think three is “a lot”. Besides, we live in Idaho and our kids attend Catholic school. And I don’t want to offend anyone…but…well…Mormon and Catholic families trend towards more than three kids. So most people don’t react much when they find out I have three kids.
Then they find out it’s three BOYS.
And two of them are teenagers. A mere year apart.
I’ll admit that I might have researched the legalities involved in duct taping bodies to bunk beds. Or walls. Or inside closet doors. But hey, duct tape is COOL now. Have you seen the variety of colors and patterns? It’s not so bad if you let them pick it out…right?
Moving on…
The truth is our teenagers are pretty great. They make me laugh…maybe as I’m throwing (soft) fruit at their heads…but they crack me up. They have, for the most part, chosen to fill their lives with quality relationships. And they’re remarkably angst free.
Last Tuesday the school parking lot was slick when I dropped off the younger two. I watched as the 13 yr old unobtrusively held the handle of LilBit’s backpack so he could catch him if he slipped. He did it subtly so LilBit wouldn’t get upset and he did it unprompted.
Sunday, the 14 yr old told me he wanted to start helping with dinners because “I’ll be moving out soon & will need to know how to cook. And I can also help so you can do school stuff.”
They get along really well. TheKid refers to TheBoy as his “voice of reason”. And TheBoy seems to get more than a little enjoyment from telling TheKid when he’s about to do something really stupid. We are constantly telling them to SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP ALREADY but at the same time, I am grateful they enjoy time together.
So yeah. We have three boys. And two of them are teenagers. And yes life IS fun. For real.
Just, please, quit making comments about having two teenage boys driving at the same time. *shudder*
Be Still.
I stood in church yesterday during the first song, unable to sing. It was a praise song, one of my favorites, but I couldn’t. I was mad. All I could think was “Why. I don’t understand. Why take HIM? From THAT FAMILY? Haven’t they dealt with enough? Why this?”
Then the song transitioned into “Our God (is Greater)” the chorus of which says
“Our God is greater, our God is stronger
God You are higher than any other
Our God is Healer, awesome and power
Our God, Our God… “
Todd wasn’t healed…at least not physically. But he was healed emotionally and spiritually (per a post from his brother – obviously I haven’t spoken to him to know personally). And God whispered, aren’t those the more important aspects?
I. Lost. It.
I sobbed through the rest of the set from anger and just an overwhelming conviction. Because.
I cling to that statement of peace from his brother. Because I can’t contemplate the alternative and the very IDEA reduces me to a sobbing mess because it occurs to me that where people stand spiritually hasn’t been nearly the concern it should be. It’s rarely something that crosses my mind except for the occasional rote ‘please open so and so’s heart to You’, recited out of habit and checklist, not out of love when really it should be forefront of my heart and mind on a regular basis. I should be crying out to God, begging Him to soften hearts, to work miracles in lives.
Conviction, yes. But also. Anger. Because really. Still. The suffering? Why? You’re Greater God. So why? I HEARD God tell me “I’m still in charge you know.” But I ignored it. I was mad and a sobbing mess and just. Grrrr. I was drained by the end of service from the sheer act of ignoring Him. It’s so easy to toss around the phrase “We live in a broken world.” We DO. But still. My husband (after reminding me about the suffering he watched as his grandfather died) stated “In the light of eternity, what’s a few days of suffering?”
BUT STILL.
This morning I was reading Exodus. And I couldn’t get pass the fact that God let his chosen people suffer. It just kept beating me about the head. He let His chosen people suffer. For generations. For a purpose that wasn’t to be fulfilled for many generations after that.
And then I recalled a conversation I had with LilBit last weekend. I told him we were stopping at the store on the way to church. He sighed heavily. We got done at Walgreens and as he skipped out he said “I thought we were going to the grocery store! Not Walgreens!” (He HATES the grocery store.) I replied “I didn’t specify which store.” He proceeded to inform me that I SHOULD have. And I said….and I quote “Why? You weren’t driving. All you have to do is ride along and trust me.”
And. Bam.
I don’t know why this family has to deal with this. I don’t have to like it. Which is good. Because I don’t. But I don’t have to understand it either. All I have to do is ride along and trust Him.
Goodbye Todd
It’s so easy to deify someone once they’re gone, especially if your lives have moved in a weird orbit only to intersect for brief moments. You start in that shocked mode, staring at computer screen until the phrase “He no longer exists in this world” begins to echo through your head. Never mind that he hadn’t existed in YOUR world for years. The fact that he never will again looms, a void in the part of you that his friendship once occupied, a part tucked away and forgotten until suddenly it’s not there. Fragmented stutters of memories start to take on a golden glow – a trumpet solo rings especially clear, a smile lights especially warm. The truth is that I knew very little about him, of him and I think this ache comes primarily from the knowledge that I never took the time to. I can hear his music but I can’t hear the sound of his voice or his laugh. I can clearly see him, trumpet in hand, chest rising with the breath needed to make it sing but I can’t remember his gait or mannerisms. I heard bits of his life through the years but I have no idea how all the pieces fit into the man he became. I remember him as talented musician with a ready grin and a remarkably patient ear considering where we were in our respective lives. That’s one thing I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt…he fiercely loved his friends. And I know at one time, he loved me. I don’t mean in some romantic cheesy way. I mean genuine, heart felt, caring. When he drove into town to visit, I KNOW it was not to see me. And yet, he sought me out. He found me, he hugged me, looked me in the eyes and said “How are you?” or “So what’s going on?” And then he would tuck me under his arm and LISTEN. If I saw him first, and bounded across the room, the reception was still open arms. And I always left him feeling completely and fully confident because I had been, for those few moments of conversation, the most important thing in the world to him.
It’s been twenty years since I last saw him. We checked in here and there usually through our mothers who still maintain a connection. The last time we communicated at all was three years ago, brief messages through Facebook. I fought tears at first. It’s stupid, I thought, to grieve for this man I didn’t know. But I don’t. I grieve for the man I should have known. I grieve for the brother that I let slip through my fingers. And more than that, I hurt for the people that did truly love him, the circle that is reconciling a hole in their daily and future life. He leaves behind a mother that is mourning a child gone too soon. He leaves behind brothers, some bound by genetics, some by history and all by love. He leaves behind relationships of which I have no knowledge. These are the people who will miss him long after the rest of the world has moved on. These are the ones who will still be paralyzed by shock of his absence long after the shock of his death has left the rest of us. And so I cry. For them and for the loss of someone I never really knew but for, however briefly, touched my life.
Bug vs Windshield
“Some days you’re the windshield. Some days you’re the bug.”
My limbs feel like they’re infused with lead. My head feels like it’s filled with helium. I was standing in the dining room earlier and just suddenly…fell over…just kinda stumbled into the wall. My brain…it was apparently soaked in a numbing agent over night. And my tear glands are only working sporadically – and then secreting kerosene.
I just looked at my ringing phone and growled “I don’t WANT TO TALK TO ANYONE.” At work.
I know it’ll pass quickly though. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow*.
Unfortunately that stupid bug vs. windshield phrase will still be around. Here’s the thing. I’m not a windshield. If I feel like a squashed bug on occasion, it’s because of a self inflicted schedule. I don’t want to be the windshield to someone else’s bug. And I don’t particularly want to “slam life” either. I will conquer obstacles and fears and endure (or power through) rough spots. But those “less than ideal” aspects are just that – aspects of an overall wonderful life. They’re simply pieces of a whole without which there would be no growth or improvement or change. A static life is a boring life. (The same might could be said of people).
*Since we’re discussing cliché phrases…okay *I’M* discussing them…I’ve never found a satisfactory etymology for “right as rain”. Seems it’s just one of many “right as…” phrases that have been around since medieval times, none of which really made sense. But it’s also pretty much the only to survive, perhaps because the alliteration is catchy. There’s just something soothing about it to me; maybe because in my head it’s always uttered in The Oracle’s voice and accompanied by the scent of fresh chocolate chip cookies**.
**If you don’t get this reference, I don’t know if we can be friends. Well we can. But I’ll need to educate you on The Matrix. And by educate I mean force you to watch it with me. Multiple times.
Why I’m not tweeting so much
You might have noticed I haven’t been on twitter much lately. Or maybe not. I certainly haven’t posted here but THAT’S not unusual. But I don’t expect to my twitter time to increase in the future either. Don’t get me wrong. I love twitter. I love the ease of receiving information. I love the glimpse into lives that would otherwise remain a total mystery. But. But. There are just as many reasons to limit my time over there:
- It’s much too easy to log in just to vent. Someone irritates me? Bam – instant audience to commiserate with me. And while the support is appreciated, 99.9% of the time whatever I’m fussing about is trivial and not worth any more of my attention. I certainly don’t need to feed that irritation by sharing and then further discussing it. Not to mention, everyone following me doesn’t need that kind of extra negativity in their lives.
- When online communities have my focused attention, IRL relationships and responsibilities suffer. I tend to communicate with people that are not truly part of my life and I am so distracted that productivity suffers at work and at home. (The irony that I’m writing this at work is not lost on me. So. Moving on.) It’s FUN. But it’s not necessarily where I need to be committing time and energy. It’s too easy to get overwhelmed by all the potential friendships and worthwhile communities and activities. It’s for this reason that I’ve started avoiding message boards and forums. I just don’t have the time or energy to support multiple online communities and relationships. (My sisters at heart are IRL relationships no matter where they’re currently located)
- Speaking of time…I started classes last week at BSU. I’m only taking six hours – one class online and one in person – but it’s an adjustment. I commented yesterday that I was impressed with people who work full time and take a full class load because just six hours is such a change in time management for me. It wasn’t a complaint, just a comment that followed me saying I was glad to be in classes and enjoying them. But someone listening in was quick to point out how she had worked four jobs while going to school full time and parenting a two year old. I know. I get it. I’ve got it EASY. I’m spoiled. I only work 40 hours at a low key job that I love. I’m only taking six hours. My kids are older and I have the full support of my husband. But I still have to re-examine how and where my time is spent. And if something has to be cut, online will be the first thing to go.
Bottom line is that I have my priorities: (1) time spent with God (2) time spent with & serving my family (3/4/5) school/(real) friends/peer counseling people (interchangeable depending on need, deadlines, etc), everything else – working out, reading, piano, etc…and way way down at the bottom of that list is online participation. Hey – I’ll always respond to texts!
Annnnd we’re back!
Not that I post regularly ANYWAY but I deliberately took a break over the holiday. The fabulous, fabulous holiday. See – my husband and I *both* get just over a week off for Christmas. He was off starting the afternoon of 12/21. I was done on the 23rd and neither of us had to come back until, well, today. The kids were out of school and so we had a stay-cation of sorts. So – what did we do?
Nothing.
Yep.
Nothing.
Oh I went and had coffee with my mentor. (Yes this is a new development). And TheKid was cat sitting so I took him to check in there. And we had family dinners and cleaned house. We had a Harry Potter movie marathon one day (made it through SIX of them) But mostly, we just existed. And it. was. marvelous.
