Last time we gave advice, did we tell that someone to do what is right "for them" or did we tell them to do what was "finitely" right? Did we tell them how painful doing the finitely right thing can be and to do it anyway? Did it ever occur to us that we might be undermining the best outcome by defending them, excusing them, or staying out of "their business" ...in turn, justifying them, leaving them unaccountable and battling alone? Will we ask them the hard questions and expect straight answers?
Is it too much trouble to confront the denial and apathy, to disrupt the cycle, and to remind them who they are so that reversal and resolution can begin? Are we out of our everlovin' minds to abandon the people we love to their own shame and strongholds for the "school of hard knocks" to cause irreversible damage ...permanent consequences. What will we do when it's too little too late? We'll keep praying? Really?! Are we brainwashed to think that's enough?
If we don't know or don't care to know every detail and history, we are entirely unqualified to give advice, regardless of our concern in the best interest of a person. If we don't know all the issues at hand we may be lending dangerous advice. If we have no experience in that facet of life, what help are we really unless we direct them to The Author of their lives? If we don't have our own lives together, do we really believe that person can benefit from our words alone? (That in and of itself is a reason to keep our lives cleaned up for when our "call of duty" arises.)
Yeah, we'll have to "judge" to "discern" when a person likely needs to be "snatched from the fire". After drawing conclusions and being led by The Spirit without preconceived solutions, are we willing to sacrifice our own comfort level to hinder the spirit of destruction in their lives? I am learning daily to despise the old and new adages: "Kids will be kids," "He's a good ole boy," "She's 21," and "Whatever will be, will be." My God is bigger than all this and I owe Him more than an additional name on my prayer list.
You say that you remember "those days". How did that turn out for you, doing things based on "feelings"? I'm tired of adhering to "social law" that tells us to advise a "chin up" to the downtrodden. What if they can't get their "chin up"? What if we've left them fighting their pride to reach out for support? What if someone is working against them? And, believe me, there is always "someone" working against them, and us all. What makes us rest in assurance that that person "knows better"? Don't you know that the brain can disconnect itself from the heart? They may need physical intercession until their heart begins to soften and mend.
Are we "keeping our hands clean" so we have no personal accountability in the other person's decision making? Are we setting that person up to fail by telling them to "be strong", while they're crying out for redemption? I believe prayer is just the beginning of the "calling", the "doing" that the book of James describes. Faith is the beginning of "action" as Hebrews 11 recounts.
So, I'm going to wear my "outrageous", "overreactiong/emotional exaggerration", "panties in a wad" description with honor and no ambivilence because through God, I can help determine the future. I believe that it's not okay to pat a person on the back and say, "I'll be praying for you", then sit back and watch them be devoured. Challenge yourself to see how far you will paddle out to offer a float to a drowning friend or relative ...even if they jumped in on their own. Are you willing to give them refuge and reassurance?
There's too much at stake to care how uncomfortable, painful, or inconvenient it's gonna be. There's too much at stake to care who doesn't understand and gets mad. It isn't over until it's over. We claim to hope, to believe, to have faith, to want the best ...but are we willing to do anything about it for someone besides ourselves? Is our "love" as far reaching as we claim?
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Quiet
Tonight, I was told by someone I love deeply that I exaggerate like no one they know. I'm quieted by that. I have to examine myself. Afterall, what I write and do cannot be expressed any more beautifully, soundly, or revelationally than the Bible, so I'm not sure that I'm not just wasting valuable time writing down all I feel, believe, and live. I feel the same way about my drawings. Photographs of God's creation catch what cannot be perfected by my interpretation. If I can't affect the people I love the most, then what? ...and when truth said in anger after I've been provoked overshadows any goodness I've intended, then I'm dismissed. So, here I sit ...with nothing to say and no intentions of going on with my stories.
(I should pay closer attention to using words than mean different things to different people. To me, "exaggeration" is a description of how I react, NOT what I say and know to be the truth. If I'm not telling the truth, with NO exaggeration, then there is no reason to write at all. BUT if I'm not living the unadulterated truth, then I have no reason to live. So, if I see that God's truth is literal and drastic measures should be taken to obey, well, I hope that's what I'll do. If I see hatefulness and rebellion, I tend to go overboard, in trying to shut it down. That is where I can be found searching hard for God and not religion.)
(I should pay closer attention to using words than mean different things to different people. To me, "exaggeration" is a description of how I react, NOT what I say and know to be the truth. If I'm not telling the truth, with NO exaggeration, then there is no reason to write at all. BUT if I'm not living the unadulterated truth, then I have no reason to live. So, if I see that God's truth is literal and drastic measures should be taken to obey, well, I hope that's what I'll do. If I see hatefulness and rebellion, I tend to go overboard, in trying to shut it down. That is where I can be found searching hard for God and not religion.)
Monday, January 9, 2012
Pretty
At the table here, I feel a bit like a writer in my robe having leftover quiche on this rainy morning. The kids are sleeping in from their night out in Charlotte, listening to the music of popular Christian bands. I read 'til 2 am after they thankfully arrived safely home. The book is "Naked Surrender". It's not what I thought it would be, advice on spiffying up lovelife; it delves much further, into the beauty of a clean soul. I skimmed through it until my eyes couldn't focus anymore. When I've finished my meeting with the book, I'll be sure to report revelational findings.
For now, I'm thinking of outward beauty, but not the "hot" beauty. I'm sick of hearing that word. The overuse of it has caused me to banish it from the household. I've told the kids, " 'Fine' is fine, but 'hot' is not." What happened to "pretty"?
Pretty starts with a smile and sunny disposition. It helps that we've become adept at covering up our inadequacies and playing up our possiblities. For most men, it's a good shave, teeth brushed, and "que sera, sera". For most of US, it's fine tuning cosmetics and products while trying to buy American, regarding the push for all natural and cruelty free; catering to our mates' preferences, while remaining modest; staying on budget, or better yet, below budget; making time to customize it all (too much, too little?) not forgetting to check for zits, dry patches, and wild hairs; all while fighting the balance of vanity vs. doubt. It's fun, and scary, to be pretty, because just when we feel pretty, someone will decide we're not. That's when it matters that we know we're our best for that day, just what God created, and if we're married, just what our husband picked. "Feeling" pretty is "being" pretty, guarding the best of ourselves and not giving up on it when we feel less than wholly loved. I see women all the time who have quit on themselves. I imagine them as the perfect little girl God created and am sad to see the damage that the lies of this life have done to them. The lie is needing to be the "prettiest girl in the room" trying to attract the "cutest guy in the room" way of thinking we develop in school. My good friend and I talked it over this summer; some people just won't get past it and let other people tear them down in the process.
There are all kinds of reasons for not "being" pretty. Sometimes we go "bad" when we're pretty. I read last night about narcissism and it taking form in the desire to know we're wanted. I've been guilty in my solitude of not necessarily wanting to perform the unmentionables but liking the knowledge that if I wanted to, I could. That's what we do when we entertain the attention of others. It's all completely selfish and discounts the weak condition of the other party's spirit and life. Mind games and foggy conscience keep us in an unstable, dangerous state. As importantly, we're kept in a useless state, knowing we shouldn't be giving advice to anyone else when we don't have control over our own thoughts.
There is the not being pretty because we don't want to be moved or touched. It's a false safe haven. We can't ever be whole people without fully embracing our gender. It's not always voluntary, but when faced with the facts of what we're doing and paying no effort to change, problems multiply. Since Mike has left 4 or 5 days ago, he's only called me 2 or 3 times and those were of necessity. December was hard for us. I'm often dismissed when I'm premenstrual, but what does it mean when I'm still "mean" afterwards? Where do we go after he's made so many changes, but doesn't care to acknowledge the changes I've specifically requested? I've been concerned with the "absence" of the last days, but at the same time, at peace without the rollercoaster. I'm different than I used to be. At some point, emotionally alone became okay to me and no amount of coersion, good or bad, changes that. He has given so much effort to showering me with compliments, gifts, surprises, trips, whatever I've ever expressed that I like (which isn't much). He's struggled with roping me back in, I'm sure in fear that my heart would never return to him after it had pondered other company.
I woke to a message that in the wee hours of the morning, he was reading over and over a 5 page letter I wrote him 2 months after we met ...and that he again was sorry for the way he treated me over the years. No amount of presents can compete with contrition. When he lays his heart out on the table for me, that's what stirs my emotion. I don't need to feel superior to him. I don't need him to pay for what he's done. I just need to know we have a connection to grow on. That's when I feel "pretty". That's when I feel hopeful and not only like I'm the prettiest woman in the room to him but also that no "thing" is more important to him than a bond with me. I "want" to be pretty when I know someone's world revolves around me. Any less would be wrong.
Pretty feet (despite my crooked toes) is a pretty pitiful place to start, but after Melody and I finished that "deluxe" pedicure and massage, I was on cloud 9. I'm finding my way back to the girl God smiled upon. I know I'm washed by the blood, but I scrubbed so much of my past off that I haven't, for fear of vanity and wasted time, been able to see the righteousness and richness of beauty: "One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in his temple." Psalm 27: 4. When I have revisited "pretty", I've found myself in the same old filthy mindset. But I'm breaking free and by God's mercy, I'm staying there ...victorious, worshipping "the Lord in the beauty of holiness," 1 Chron 16:29.
For now, I'm thinking of outward beauty, but not the "hot" beauty. I'm sick of hearing that word. The overuse of it has caused me to banish it from the household. I've told the kids, " 'Fine' is fine, but 'hot' is not." What happened to "pretty"?
Pretty starts with a smile and sunny disposition. It helps that we've become adept at covering up our inadequacies and playing up our possiblities. For most men, it's a good shave, teeth brushed, and "que sera, sera". For most of US, it's fine tuning cosmetics and products while trying to buy American, regarding the push for all natural and cruelty free; catering to our mates' preferences, while remaining modest; staying on budget, or better yet, below budget; making time to customize it all (too much, too little?) not forgetting to check for zits, dry patches, and wild hairs; all while fighting the balance of vanity vs. doubt. It's fun, and scary, to be pretty, because just when we feel pretty, someone will decide we're not. That's when it matters that we know we're our best for that day, just what God created, and if we're married, just what our husband picked. "Feeling" pretty is "being" pretty, guarding the best of ourselves and not giving up on it when we feel less than wholly loved. I see women all the time who have quit on themselves. I imagine them as the perfect little girl God created and am sad to see the damage that the lies of this life have done to them. The lie is needing to be the "prettiest girl in the room" trying to attract the "cutest guy in the room" way of thinking we develop in school. My good friend and I talked it over this summer; some people just won't get past it and let other people tear them down in the process.
There are all kinds of reasons for not "being" pretty. Sometimes we go "bad" when we're pretty. I read last night about narcissism and it taking form in the desire to know we're wanted. I've been guilty in my solitude of not necessarily wanting to perform the unmentionables but liking the knowledge that if I wanted to, I could. That's what we do when we entertain the attention of others. It's all completely selfish and discounts the weak condition of the other party's spirit and life. Mind games and foggy conscience keep us in an unstable, dangerous state. As importantly, we're kept in a useless state, knowing we shouldn't be giving advice to anyone else when we don't have control over our own thoughts.
There is the not being pretty because we don't want to be moved or touched. It's a false safe haven. We can't ever be whole people without fully embracing our gender. It's not always voluntary, but when faced with the facts of what we're doing and paying no effort to change, problems multiply. Since Mike has left 4 or 5 days ago, he's only called me 2 or 3 times and those were of necessity. December was hard for us. I'm often dismissed when I'm premenstrual, but what does it mean when I'm still "mean" afterwards? Where do we go after he's made so many changes, but doesn't care to acknowledge the changes I've specifically requested? I've been concerned with the "absence" of the last days, but at the same time, at peace without the rollercoaster. I'm different than I used to be. At some point, emotionally alone became okay to me and no amount of coersion, good or bad, changes that. He has given so much effort to showering me with compliments, gifts, surprises, trips, whatever I've ever expressed that I like (which isn't much). He's struggled with roping me back in, I'm sure in fear that my heart would never return to him after it had pondered other company.
I woke to a message that in the wee hours of the morning, he was reading over and over a 5 page letter I wrote him 2 months after we met ...and that he again was sorry for the way he treated me over the years. No amount of presents can compete with contrition. When he lays his heart out on the table for me, that's what stirs my emotion. I don't need to feel superior to him. I don't need him to pay for what he's done. I just need to know we have a connection to grow on. That's when I feel "pretty". That's when I feel hopeful and not only like I'm the prettiest woman in the room to him but also that no "thing" is more important to him than a bond with me. I "want" to be pretty when I know someone's world revolves around me. Any less would be wrong.
Pretty feet (despite my crooked toes) is a pretty pitiful place to start, but after Melody and I finished that "deluxe" pedicure and massage, I was on cloud 9. I'm finding my way back to the girl God smiled upon. I know I'm washed by the blood, but I scrubbed so much of my past off that I haven't, for fear of vanity and wasted time, been able to see the righteousness and richness of beauty: "One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in his temple." Psalm 27: 4. When I have revisited "pretty", I've found myself in the same old filthy mindset. But I'm breaking free and by God's mercy, I'm staying there ...victorious, worshipping "the Lord in the beauty of holiness," 1 Chron 16:29.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Miscalculations
It's a good thing that these thoughts came quickly, as I was waiting for Michael to finish practice, because I have a project I want to finish tonight. Just yesterday, my mind was "empty", causing me to wonder how much I'd be writing this year. I don't want to write anything I can't back up with doing. Over the last months, I've made my case against my weaknesses. Even though we got off to a bad start, I firmly believe today was the beginning ...of the beginning.
Since I'm coming into the "happy" part of the month, it's easy to bring up a subject I'm searching full on. I guess what I want to expose is that when my appointed time of marital stability came, I wasn't "ready". I was full of feeling "caged" (because I had truly "checked out") that I gave little regard to my physical condition and the fast displacement of muscle to fat. No matter the condition of your relationships, your body is yours and you will deal with the consequences of neglecting it. So what if you, like me, didn't care if you feel sexy, didn't want to be touched by someone whose heart you did't hold, (in your vulnerability) didn't want to draw attention from others, or held the ole ultraconservative stance of "not adorning"?
The "not wanting to look worldly" ploy is a sticky place. Most men work "in the world"; therefore, they are desentisized by the beauty trademarks of it's women. I did the "natural, discreet look" and my husband was none too thrilled about it, so unless you can hold your own with no tricks up your sleeve, you'd better take another look. It doesn't mean we have to put on the artificial facade of caked on, sprayed on beauty. It means we cater to what our guys prefer. You've likely got the parts that he fancies, so play them up. If he loves your long hair and you cut it off, you're a fool ...like I've been. If he's an "upfront" kinda guy, wear a bra that compliments that. It can be done tastefully without showing them to all the world. If he's a "rear admiral", then keep it tone. (And somehow, I don't think the Bible mentions anywhere that plucking and shaving aren't virtuous or that lipstick and mascara are evil, in and of themselves.) I mean to take my own advice because I'm finally past the aforementioned barriers.
However, I'm not quite past the "like" barrier. Mike was here for more than 2 weeks and between his bouts with negativity and mine with aloof"ativity", we were far less than blissfully related. (It's a damper on incentive, but in actuality is just another stumbling block that has already been overcome by the One who knows a lot more than I do.) "Working it at home" I was not. I didn't feel good and I didn't look good. I know for a fact now, because I finally heard a man say it not long ago, that it matters how we present ourselves when we're home and that men resent when we care more how we look for other people and events.
I know, I know ..."when do we get to relax?" I think, like any 2 things, there's a happy medium. A little effort goes a long way. Until I put if firmly in action, I'll not embark on the details. My problem is that being fat is the "elephant in the room". It's hard for me to "doll up" when it seems like an ill fated disguise. Guess what? It's not always about me ...or you. It's about doing something today ...for him ...that shows that his desires matter. Man, all this is so easy for me to say, now that I know he's on his way to Oregon! But what we do, what we think in our "down time" is what changes us ...like the places I passed tonight and made mental notes on that I think he'll enjoy going to, as a surprise when he returns ...places that will be thrifty and new, at the same time. It's like him having my coffee ready this morning, ready for me hours after he left, like he left a piece of himself here ...even though I'd been hardly affectionate for days.
I'm ready to reclaim what was stolen from me. I'm sorry to say most of it was voluntary. I'm ready to find the innocence and fun God preordained for 2 people who've sacredly vowed themselves to each other. "Where are you?" I murmured outloud in the car and I meant it. I closed off in self preservation to him at different stages and that is my undoing. I've also closely equated, from early ingrained conditioning, looks with sexuality. What is your undoing? Have you confessed your sexual sin? I understand, you're saved ...but have you confessed your sin, all of it? Have you been convinced that porn or anal sex will spice up things and is harmless if viewed or done as a couple? Whoever told you that is an idiot and entirely Biblically illiterate. You WILL regret the day that you caved to it because once you've objectified other people and misplaced affections your conscience is damaged. Too, it didn't dawn on me until I read that some of us aren't finding purity and freedom in our marriage beds because we haven't repented of our premarital activities, including premarital SEX WITH our spouses and premarital COHABITATION WITH our spouses. Do we really believe that a legal piece of paper fixes all that? I did. Although, we didn't "live" together, we most definitely engaged in sensual pleasures. I thought we'd have our little house with pretty things, performing warm and fuzzy traditions, living to comfortable ripe old ages. As a young newlywed, I had those unrealistic visions and strived to make them happen, but hit rock bottom before I found out my visions were not God's.
As people who know the whole extent, our move almost 15 years ago was less than favorable, but God worked through it by insulating me in the natural wonder of His heights and forests ...so that I would not conform because He knew I WAS conformist. I liked making other people happy and being the center of attention, at most any expense. I am not content with who I was. "Just quietly remaining above the fray is an indictment against one's self." ~ Michael Pearl. My proliferation has offended some, I think even a cousin in the ministy I can't get to converse with me. Another is the only person I know of who's deleted me. She's a fellow homeschool Mom whom I don't know particularly well but must've put off with some of my speculations. It's well worth it if I can help a young woman to forego the pain of reliving the same mistakes and misinterpretations I've made.
I want to "be there" as Titus compels us older women to be. I also know the importance of comforting myself with friends who relate to the issues of children's rebellion and parents' frailties. I love that I have a spance of friends who wouldn't necessarily enjoy a "GNO" together. 93, 54, 30, and in between ...I love them all. A few minutes ago I scolded Macklynn by saying, "Life isn't all about playing games!" Madalynn looked up and said, "It's all about God." Wow, need I say more? My friends get me, that I agree with Madalynn, no matter how badly I screw it up sometimes. God's yoke is light and I make it heavy. "God, don't stop rebuilding me ...and the mind that moves me"
Since I'm coming into the "happy" part of the month, it's easy to bring up a subject I'm searching full on. I guess what I want to expose is that when my appointed time of marital stability came, I wasn't "ready". I was full of feeling "caged" (because I had truly "checked out") that I gave little regard to my physical condition and the fast displacement of muscle to fat. No matter the condition of your relationships, your body is yours and you will deal with the consequences of neglecting it. So what if you, like me, didn't care if you feel sexy, didn't want to be touched by someone whose heart you did't hold, (in your vulnerability) didn't want to draw attention from others, or held the ole ultraconservative stance of "not adorning"?
The "not wanting to look worldly" ploy is a sticky place. Most men work "in the world"; therefore, they are desentisized by the beauty trademarks of it's women. I did the "natural, discreet look" and my husband was none too thrilled about it, so unless you can hold your own with no tricks up your sleeve, you'd better take another look. It doesn't mean we have to put on the artificial facade of caked on, sprayed on beauty. It means we cater to what our guys prefer. You've likely got the parts that he fancies, so play them up. If he loves your long hair and you cut it off, you're a fool ...like I've been. If he's an "upfront" kinda guy, wear a bra that compliments that. It can be done tastefully without showing them to all the world. If he's a "rear admiral", then keep it tone. (And somehow, I don't think the Bible mentions anywhere that plucking and shaving aren't virtuous or that lipstick and mascara are evil, in and of themselves.) I mean to take my own advice because I'm finally past the aforementioned barriers.
However, I'm not quite past the "like" barrier. Mike was here for more than 2 weeks and between his bouts with negativity and mine with aloof"ativity", we were far less than blissfully related. (It's a damper on incentive, but in actuality is just another stumbling block that has already been overcome by the One who knows a lot more than I do.) "Working it at home" I was not. I didn't feel good and I didn't look good. I know for a fact now, because I finally heard a man say it not long ago, that it matters how we present ourselves when we're home and that men resent when we care more how we look for other people and events.
I know, I know ..."when do we get to relax?" I think, like any 2 things, there's a happy medium. A little effort goes a long way. Until I put if firmly in action, I'll not embark on the details. My problem is that being fat is the "elephant in the room". It's hard for me to "doll up" when it seems like an ill fated disguise. Guess what? It's not always about me ...or you. It's about doing something today ...for him ...that shows that his desires matter. Man, all this is so easy for me to say, now that I know he's on his way to Oregon! But what we do, what we think in our "down time" is what changes us ...like the places I passed tonight and made mental notes on that I think he'll enjoy going to, as a surprise when he returns ...places that will be thrifty and new, at the same time. It's like him having my coffee ready this morning, ready for me hours after he left, like he left a piece of himself here ...even though I'd been hardly affectionate for days.
I'm ready to reclaim what was stolen from me. I'm sorry to say most of it was voluntary. I'm ready to find the innocence and fun God preordained for 2 people who've sacredly vowed themselves to each other. "Where are you?" I murmured outloud in the car and I meant it. I closed off in self preservation to him at different stages and that is my undoing. I've also closely equated, from early ingrained conditioning, looks with sexuality. What is your undoing? Have you confessed your sexual sin? I understand, you're saved ...but have you confessed your sin, all of it? Have you been convinced that porn or anal sex will spice up things and is harmless if viewed or done as a couple? Whoever told you that is an idiot and entirely Biblically illiterate. You WILL regret the day that you caved to it because once you've objectified other people and misplaced affections your conscience is damaged. Too, it didn't dawn on me until I read that some of us aren't finding purity and freedom in our marriage beds because we haven't repented of our premarital activities, including premarital SEX WITH our spouses and premarital COHABITATION WITH our spouses. Do we really believe that a legal piece of paper fixes all that? I did. Although, we didn't "live" together, we most definitely engaged in sensual pleasures. I thought we'd have our little house with pretty things, performing warm and fuzzy traditions, living to comfortable ripe old ages. As a young newlywed, I had those unrealistic visions and strived to make them happen, but hit rock bottom before I found out my visions were not God's.
As people who know the whole extent, our move almost 15 years ago was less than favorable, but God worked through it by insulating me in the natural wonder of His heights and forests ...so that I would not conform because He knew I WAS conformist. I liked making other people happy and being the center of attention, at most any expense. I am not content with who I was. "Just quietly remaining above the fray is an indictment against one's self." ~ Michael Pearl. My proliferation has offended some, I think even a cousin in the ministy I can't get to converse with me. Another is the only person I know of who's deleted me. She's a fellow homeschool Mom whom I don't know particularly well but must've put off with some of my speculations. It's well worth it if I can help a young woman to forego the pain of reliving the same mistakes and misinterpretations I've made.
I want to "be there" as Titus compels us older women to be. I also know the importance of comforting myself with friends who relate to the issues of children's rebellion and parents' frailties. I love that I have a spance of friends who wouldn't necessarily enjoy a "GNO" together. 93, 54, 30, and in between ...I love them all. A few minutes ago I scolded Macklynn by saying, "Life isn't all about playing games!" Madalynn looked up and said, "It's all about God." Wow, need I say more? My friends get me, that I agree with Madalynn, no matter how badly I screw it up sometimes. God's yoke is light and I make it heavy. "God, don't stop rebuilding me ...and the mind that moves me"
Sunday, January 1, 2012
...
I'm at home and Mike's at church, such a reversal from years ago. Although our guests went home around 1 am, I was wound up, probably from the case of canned Sunkists. So, I didn't go to sleep until after 3 am. A couple of the kids went even later. When his alarm went off this morning, it startled me and Madalynn, in the next room, both. Then, not only did I have 30 minutes to look decent, but also he asked her to go ...a 3 year old who had 6 hours sleep, had to eat and be dressed ...sharing those 30 minutes with me, who hadn't had any coffee yet. Plus, in the back of my mind (and spilled forth ;) there was agitation that the kids have been visiting the church he's wanted to try, but he jumped up to go to another church. (He got an invitation yesterday from the his friend he's been driving and hunting with.) I'll admit right now I have flashbacks of things gone bad, and revisiting them sends me into a talespin ...grumpy children at church, loud ones in the library, mazes of boxes in the attic and spilling over into the house.
Now, you've gotten a taste of what Mike lives with: my explanations. I'm not exactly sure why I need justification and approval. I thought it was the "good wife" syndrome. I always wanted him to understand my purposes, even if he didn't agree with them. I'm not sure how many words and how much time I've wasted. So much character assessment boils down to putting words to action and that, when they average out, the result is positive and unselfish.
It looks like winter weather finally. I welcome it. I'm definitely PMSish, along with a couple of other things. I've had a full plate since the last time I wrote. I love that today's Sunday and all I have to do is "be", especially since Mike washed up all the dishes as we cooked last night. It's some kind of manic thing he does when company is here, but I'm glad to be the beneficiary.
On Friday, I went with Mike to an Orthopaedic Specialist to get to the root of his foot and leg numbness, which inhibit him from any kind of exercise or hard work. They kindly worked him into the schedule for an MRI, since his deductibles and out of pocket are met for the year. We had a few hours to piddle away, so we ate, went back to Sam's and to see his friend's preemie, who is still in NICU. Finally, it was 8:30 and time for the MRI. I read almost all of Matthew. You know, sometimes going straight to the source is the only thing that suffices. And when the timing is right, it's like it absorbs directly through my fingertips.
Although, Mike and I had "words" a few hours prior, watching the man walk through the door with his sleeping baby after she'd had her MRI was sobering and put our own situation into perspective. When we got in the car, he put something into the GPS that was only 2 miles away and I guessed it: Krispy Creme. And the red sign for "hot" was on when we drove in. We needed them like we need holes in our heads, but if you're gonna splurge, you might as well make sure it's the best.
Saturday morning, the neighbor on the hill called to say his horse's foot had healed and he was ready to plow. Michael and McKala helped last year and were happy to do it again, just hard to believe the weather is still permitting. Mike went over with the younger ones to watch. Soon, our dogs caused trouble and Mike told Michael to rush over to intervene. Let's just say it didn't work out. You ever been home minding your own business in a perfectly good mood and have something thrust upon you that you're clueless about? Everybody has. I wish I wouldn't "internalize" so much, as my mother puts it ...because we set the world ablaze after that. (Too, he's been home reordering his business plan for 2 weeks and we aren't accustomed to so much intense "together" time.) 2 hours later, I sat puzzled ...and realizing I'll still never have the last word in an argument. Our past sins will do that for us. Mike gave it another shot and took the little kids back over, only for Macklynn to get nipped by the horse. Any other time it wouldn't be too big a deal and it still isn't, but this "horse" happens to be a magnificent Percheron ...huge animal. "Mike" internalized and took it all as some kind of sign and just "threw his hands up".
The house was clean enough, the upstairs anyway, so I took a bath. I read years ago how important it is to take a "breather" before entertaining, and epecially before a husband returns home from work. I could never feel anything less than guilty if I didn't work on perfecting things up until the last minute. The imperfection in that is I wind up looking and feeling like a haggard mess myself. I wasn't going to put a damper on the evening for everyone else; so I got my mp3, candle, and a drink, to close myself away for a while. It worked and I was sincerely happy to greet our dear friends in, along with some new ones. (It is quite the joke that their new next door neighbors, in the house we rented in their subdivision, are as country as we are.) I hope our first time guests had as good a time with us as we did with them.
I'm not at liberty to tell anyone else's story but I would love to get permission for what Grace shared with us last night back in Miranda's bedroom, as I finished up a call. I was in the somberest of moods upon pushing the "end" button. Having an adult child is getting more complicated by the day. Mike came to find me and express that I was being rude. When I told him I needed some time, he brought me an oversized drink that in the pictures makes me look like a party animal, especially with that gargantuan fur on. I assure you it was mostly cranberry juice and ice AND took me an hour to drink. Our good friend, Jami, came to see about me and cracked up when I turned around in the office chair with it in my hand. Soon McKala and Miranda discovered us. Then Grace came in and shared those good stories until I returned to myself.
It was only a few minutes until midnight, so I followed the crowd outside for the show. We stood star gazing in the interim and made plans for parties this summer. For now, the New Year has begun and I hope that I'll spend less time explaining and more time doing ...because in the end, good intentions without feet are still nothing more than good intentions. I don't think there's anything fresh about that statement; people have known it for centuries. It's just that some of us "get it" and some of us "don't", until it's too late:
Ephesians 5:15-16, "See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil."
Now, you've gotten a taste of what Mike lives with: my explanations. I'm not exactly sure why I need justification and approval. I thought it was the "good wife" syndrome. I always wanted him to understand my purposes, even if he didn't agree with them. I'm not sure how many words and how much time I've wasted. So much character assessment boils down to putting words to action and that, when they average out, the result is positive and unselfish.
It looks like winter weather finally. I welcome it. I'm definitely PMSish, along with a couple of other things. I've had a full plate since the last time I wrote. I love that today's Sunday and all I have to do is "be", especially since Mike washed up all the dishes as we cooked last night. It's some kind of manic thing he does when company is here, but I'm glad to be the beneficiary.
On Friday, I went with Mike to an Orthopaedic Specialist to get to the root of his foot and leg numbness, which inhibit him from any kind of exercise or hard work. They kindly worked him into the schedule for an MRI, since his deductibles and out of pocket are met for the year. We had a few hours to piddle away, so we ate, went back to Sam's and to see his friend's preemie, who is still in NICU. Finally, it was 8:30 and time for the MRI. I read almost all of Matthew. You know, sometimes going straight to the source is the only thing that suffices. And when the timing is right, it's like it absorbs directly through my fingertips.
Although, Mike and I had "words" a few hours prior, watching the man walk through the door with his sleeping baby after she'd had her MRI was sobering and put our own situation into perspective. When we got in the car, he put something into the GPS that was only 2 miles away and I guessed it: Krispy Creme. And the red sign for "hot" was on when we drove in. We needed them like we need holes in our heads, but if you're gonna splurge, you might as well make sure it's the best.
Saturday morning, the neighbor on the hill called to say his horse's foot had healed and he was ready to plow. Michael and McKala helped last year and were happy to do it again, just hard to believe the weather is still permitting. Mike went over with the younger ones to watch. Soon, our dogs caused trouble and Mike told Michael to rush over to intervene. Let's just say it didn't work out. You ever been home minding your own business in a perfectly good mood and have something thrust upon you that you're clueless about? Everybody has. I wish I wouldn't "internalize" so much, as my mother puts it ...because we set the world ablaze after that. (Too, he's been home reordering his business plan for 2 weeks and we aren't accustomed to so much intense "together" time.) 2 hours later, I sat puzzled ...and realizing I'll still never have the last word in an argument. Our past sins will do that for us. Mike gave it another shot and took the little kids back over, only for Macklynn to get nipped by the horse. Any other time it wouldn't be too big a deal and it still isn't, but this "horse" happens to be a magnificent Percheron ...huge animal. "Mike" internalized and took it all as some kind of sign and just "threw his hands up".
The house was clean enough, the upstairs anyway, so I took a bath. I read years ago how important it is to take a "breather" before entertaining, and epecially before a husband returns home from work. I could never feel anything less than guilty if I didn't work on perfecting things up until the last minute. The imperfection in that is I wind up looking and feeling like a haggard mess myself. I wasn't going to put a damper on the evening for everyone else; so I got my mp3, candle, and a drink, to close myself away for a while. It worked and I was sincerely happy to greet our dear friends in, along with some new ones. (It is quite the joke that their new next door neighbors, in the house we rented in their subdivision, are as country as we are.) I hope our first time guests had as good a time with us as we did with them.
I'm not at liberty to tell anyone else's story but I would love to get permission for what Grace shared with us last night back in Miranda's bedroom, as I finished up a call. I was in the somberest of moods upon pushing the "end" button. Having an adult child is getting more complicated by the day. Mike came to find me and express that I was being rude. When I told him I needed some time, he brought me an oversized drink that in the pictures makes me look like a party animal, especially with that gargantuan fur on. I assure you it was mostly cranberry juice and ice AND took me an hour to drink. Our good friend, Jami, came to see about me and cracked up when I turned around in the office chair with it in my hand. Soon McKala and Miranda discovered us. Then Grace came in and shared those good stories until I returned to myself.
It was only a few minutes until midnight, so I followed the crowd outside for the show. We stood star gazing in the interim and made plans for parties this summer. For now, the New Year has begun and I hope that I'll spend less time explaining and more time doing ...because in the end, good intentions without feet are still nothing more than good intentions. I don't think there's anything fresh about that statement; people have known it for centuries. It's just that some of us "get it" and some of us "don't", until it's too late:
Ephesians 5:15-16, "See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil."
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