I was careful. I was actually perturbed but I went for the melodramatic instead. I wrote that I'm heartbroken at the good riddance some parents express at the onset of a new school year. A pet peeve of mine is that every fall there are moms who are ready to push their kids onto the school bus. I always thought it was because the parent and child couldn't get along and my answer to an obnoxious child is for the parent to look in the mirror at his or her equally obnoxious self. However, it was put crystal clear to me that some moms think the scramble of finding someone to babysit when summer camps have run out is "exhausting", that the job and housework leave no "me" time. Oh, and the best part is that I, myself, live in "fantasy land".
First off, I can bet she brought preconceived notions about me to the table. It's always a shame when people listen to gossip. Trouble is I don't want to give her my side. I don't want to ruin what was the good between me and the mutual friend who introduced us.
Secondly, I was more concerned that someone else I know had a "status" similar to hers. But the conscience was pricked and that's between her and her Maker.
Thirdly, I love how my kids rose to the occasion. Michael, Jr who is often jokingly the devil's advocate, said ,"You do all that stuff and there are 7 of us." Melody was gone with Mike for the day and upon her return and without my mention came across the post and comment. She politely wrote, "Now, that's not nice ..." She followed it with something like, "I said somthing and not becouse she's my mom."
Well, spelling doesn't come particularly naturally to the Harpers. That goes along with the running gene we must be missing. (I'm thinking these 2 things call for drill practice :) It all leads to how open I am about our shortcomings. She told me herself months ago when I ran into her at the store that she loved keeping up with us via posts and blog posts. She must not be keeping up too well because whose "fantasy land" involves bankruptcy, life altering illness of a child, and regular foul ups?
On the contrary, her world of high end living, partying with lavish vehicles and trips is the surreal life she ironically blasts me with. Her husband runs his own successful company, so "need" is unlikely. It's very similar to a "Wife Swap" I saw this weekend. If she hadn't deleted her account, I'd be tempted to ask what her son would prefer, his mother or her substitutes, his video gaming or her time.
"You said it yourself," I'dve replied but I didn't have to. She made her case for everyone who read her words. The care for her son is a hassle. And she doesn't even know how manageable it could be. I won't leave this session without saying she's in plenty of company, in and out of the church. When you have a baby and set out with an ultimatum of six weeks or a few months or a few years of your undivided attention and then hand him over to a surrogate as if she suffices, you are part time mothering. Believers, do you have no more belief than that God can't provide the needs of you and your baby? Ah, now you're defensive! I babysat more than 14 children over a period of 3 years and only one of the mothers said she "had" to work. Even she had no intentions of quitting when times smoothed over.
I tire of apologizing for the truth, so I'm not going to. Churches have lost their attraction because most have nothing new to offer. Hardly a pastor will preach directly to women for fear of retribution for "politically and socially incorrect" statements, otherwise known as Biblical teaching. In the meantime, women chase after substitutes for fulfillment that is right at home.
So, as you run the school bus down to shove the kids in, remember there is a wannabe mom somewhere who'd die for your position. There's an unhealthy relationship your child will find trying to replace the one you've tossed aside, that barely allows time for more than daily maintenance and a snipit of who you'd be if you weren't so drained.
Oh, and I'm proof positive that I can, could, and would perform virtually any job superbly. Not only am I academically proven, but also on a weekly basis, I begrudgingly correct legal, medical, and otherwise professional staff. So, if I want a "fantasy land", I could make it and make it big, but I have what I want. I'm not the one who should be checking my state of reality. It's not easy or posh or pretty all the time, but nothing worth having is.
After noting all these thoughts, I pouted my way to my prayer list to add this family. In a day or so, my gusto will be subdued and I'll be left burdened that God intervenes for the sake of a youngster, for the generations of children cycled in and out of the busyness of artificial living. The surrounding circumstances will pale and, God willing, you'll hear from me on some new subject, perhaps even more controversial than this one ;)
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Children and Choices
Thursday we took the younger 4 to a little local water park. They'd reminded me that I'd told them before summer began that I'd do it. The only problem was the entry fee. Madalynn emptied her purse of $1.36 and said she'd use her money. While straightening her room, I found $5 she'd misplaced. She was in! Macklynn had $17, plus money from the sell of his calf. Melody cashed her birthday money. Michael also sold calves and teaches archery, so he was an easy in (although, he's getting kinda growny for such low key entertainment). He pitched in his opinion to his younger siblings that his Oakley sunglasses would be less valuable to him if he hadn't had to spend all the money, $150, he got for his birthday on them, after he found a half price discount. McKala, still broke from all her money tied up in calves, opted out to go with her best friend, she hadn't seen but once all summer, to a football game and found something in her closet that I could return to cover the cost.
As I watched Madalynn's interplay with perfect strangers, I couldn't help thinking that she might be having the best time of anyone there because getting in wasn't a given. At 4 years old, she payed her way and waited all summer for it. It had value that a good time alone can't offer.
Macklynn insisted that I go down the water slides with him. I haven't walked around a pool without a wrap in years. As the varicose veins worsened with each pregnancy, I quit wearing shorts. I've worn some form of pants for 15 years now and have neglected my legs altogether. It was freeing to abandon self consciousness in order to have a good time with my 7 year old. Getting back to the top as fast as we could, we were having a close 2nd to Madalynn's good time.
The best body there was a young mother with a super cute turquoise bikini. Her stomach looked what mine would look like in optimum shape: a pouch of saggy, stretch marked skin. I can't figure out why she didn't get a one piece and look like a million dollars, which leads to similar observations I made at Carowinds.
Melody's 12th birthday was Friday. For months, she's wanted to go to Carowinds to celebrate it. Originally, a couple of friends would come. Maybe we'd have had a small party too and some gifts she's wanted or needed for a while. However, Mike's truck is sucking in all the water and is in dire need of repair before it blows a head gasket. It's a wash; can't be done. We're borrowed out and belly up.
Melody is the only of seven who has her birthday all to herself and usually has a blowout of an outdoor party bringing in lots of presents. This year she had very few choices and it's yet to be seen if we made the right one. She decided that we would use $20 coupons so she and I could go to Carowinds together, take a picnic, and stop for a Georgia Mud Fudge Blizzard at Dairy Queen on the way home ...no cake, no party, no other present from us.
My city girl wore 1 pair and took 2 pairs of shoes to change into. The plan was to get there when they opened and ride until we were so hot or hungry that we'd go to the car, eat, and get bags to change for the water park. We got to ride The Intimidator coaster for the first time. The suspended feeling that happens about 4 times throughout is exquisite. I left the head banging rides to her. I held up pretty well but lagged behind between rides occasionally and breathed in her uncommon excitement causing her to run to and from them, especially after the downpour caused 2/3rds of the visitors to leave and the temperature to drop from 97 to 79.
I'm sure it's not nice but I was glad to see the crowds retreat. I had seen enough skin for the day. I'm still trying to discover why women wear strapless clothes. Even the best of boobs look better with some support, as opposed to being pressed down flat. Sleeveless is another of my issues. Why in creation do women like me not keep unfit triceps to themselves? Midriffs are jaw dropping. Is it a take it or leave it mentality? Again, why do mothers reveal their biggest flaws? And don't some parents give too much false esteem to their daughters? For a lot of people, modesty is a favor to the rest of the of us. Just because they sell it doesn't mean we can sport it. Then there's the parent who doesn't give a, excuse me, damn that their daughters are walking around half naked. Booty shorts are something Melody noticed particularly at the grocery store not long ago. She said I'm the only one in here without them. Problem is not just one of being unassuming but one of fitness. Virtually every girl, much less woman, isn't tone enough to wear them. Does anyone exercise anymore? Does no one like her hair color? Does anyone have a glow from the sun instead of bulbs? Does no one have enough to do that fake nails get in the way? My overview of society is that mechanization has only made a small dent in improving who we are and done little to nothing for the way we look.
I'm confused. About the time I think every one of us is full of vanity, I begin over to think we don't really care. It's so easy to get a guy that we just don't have to work all that hard to prove we're anything exceptional. Then, my mind wanders into the "possession" realm, that we are so busy doing things to our bodies to display them that we rarely sacrifice them to the life giving potential they have and if we do, we limit that time to within our own desires and boundaries. THEN, it all reminds me of men who have wives whose bodies have provided their legacies; yet, those same men feast their eyes on the bodies of other women that haven't been given to anything so selfless and if they have, were fortunate enough not to be scarred from it. I want to walk up and slap the man with such little regard for his God given position in life. Sometimes, I want to smack the woman into reality who's taken such little care of herself, since her husband has committed himself to her, that he looks lonely and detached from the family.
Good grief, how hard is it to be good to each other? If we'd open our Bibles, we'd know. Too, how hard is it to pee where we're supposed to? I'm tired of theaters and other public places wreaking of urine. It was almost worth standing on top of a swaying 6 story tower to get away from it ...that was until I got halfway down the swirling slide in pitch black, going what had to be 100 miles an hour with water spraying into my nose.
All I know is that canned Cheerwine in the cooler never tasted so good when we returned to the car twice and that the jeans I had to leave in were soaked; Dairy Queen was about 65 degrees; the money I saved paying for gas in South Carolina payed for the ice cream; and I was so cold that I took the jeans off to ride home ...and it was a great day for Melody and me.
It got even better when her sister came in from Georgia about an hour after we arrived home. She was bearing a requested tie dying kit for Melody and a kayaking trip to their hometown in The Blue Ridge for yesterday. Several of the others got to participate and I hope it confirmed to them that when they step up with the right attitude and right choices that even more good things can be waiting in the wings.
As I watched Madalynn's interplay with perfect strangers, I couldn't help thinking that she might be having the best time of anyone there because getting in wasn't a given. At 4 years old, she payed her way and waited all summer for it. It had value that a good time alone can't offer.
Macklynn insisted that I go down the water slides with him. I haven't walked around a pool without a wrap in years. As the varicose veins worsened with each pregnancy, I quit wearing shorts. I've worn some form of pants for 15 years now and have neglected my legs altogether. It was freeing to abandon self consciousness in order to have a good time with my 7 year old. Getting back to the top as fast as we could, we were having a close 2nd to Madalynn's good time.
The best body there was a young mother with a super cute turquoise bikini. Her stomach looked what mine would look like in optimum shape: a pouch of saggy, stretch marked skin. I can't figure out why she didn't get a one piece and look like a million dollars, which leads to similar observations I made at Carowinds.
Melody's 12th birthday was Friday. For months, she's wanted to go to Carowinds to celebrate it. Originally, a couple of friends would come. Maybe we'd have had a small party too and some gifts she's wanted or needed for a while. However, Mike's truck is sucking in all the water and is in dire need of repair before it blows a head gasket. It's a wash; can't be done. We're borrowed out and belly up.
Melody is the only of seven who has her birthday all to herself and usually has a blowout of an outdoor party bringing in lots of presents. This year she had very few choices and it's yet to be seen if we made the right one. She decided that we would use $20 coupons so she and I could go to Carowinds together, take a picnic, and stop for a Georgia Mud Fudge Blizzard at Dairy Queen on the way home ...no cake, no party, no other present from us.
My city girl wore 1 pair and took 2 pairs of shoes to change into. The plan was to get there when they opened and ride until we were so hot or hungry that we'd go to the car, eat, and get bags to change for the water park. We got to ride The Intimidator coaster for the first time. The suspended feeling that happens about 4 times throughout is exquisite. I left the head banging rides to her. I held up pretty well but lagged behind between rides occasionally and breathed in her uncommon excitement causing her to run to and from them, especially after the downpour caused 2/3rds of the visitors to leave and the temperature to drop from 97 to 79.
I'm sure it's not nice but I was glad to see the crowds retreat. I had seen enough skin for the day. I'm still trying to discover why women wear strapless clothes. Even the best of boobs look better with some support, as opposed to being pressed down flat. Sleeveless is another of my issues. Why in creation do women like me not keep unfit triceps to themselves? Midriffs are jaw dropping. Is it a take it or leave it mentality? Again, why do mothers reveal their biggest flaws? And don't some parents give too much false esteem to their daughters? For a lot of people, modesty is a favor to the rest of the of us. Just because they sell it doesn't mean we can sport it. Then there's the parent who doesn't give a, excuse me, damn that their daughters are walking around half naked. Booty shorts are something Melody noticed particularly at the grocery store not long ago. She said I'm the only one in here without them. Problem is not just one of being unassuming but one of fitness. Virtually every girl, much less woman, isn't tone enough to wear them. Does anyone exercise anymore? Does no one like her hair color? Does anyone have a glow from the sun instead of bulbs? Does no one have enough to do that fake nails get in the way? My overview of society is that mechanization has only made a small dent in improving who we are and done little to nothing for the way we look.
I'm confused. About the time I think every one of us is full of vanity, I begin over to think we don't really care. It's so easy to get a guy that we just don't have to work all that hard to prove we're anything exceptional. Then, my mind wanders into the "possession" realm, that we are so busy doing things to our bodies to display them that we rarely sacrifice them to the life giving potential they have and if we do, we limit that time to within our own desires and boundaries. THEN, it all reminds me of men who have wives whose bodies have provided their legacies; yet, those same men feast their eyes on the bodies of other women that haven't been given to anything so selfless and if they have, were fortunate enough not to be scarred from it. I want to walk up and slap the man with such little regard for his God given position in life. Sometimes, I want to smack the woman into reality who's taken such little care of herself, since her husband has committed himself to her, that he looks lonely and detached from the family.
Good grief, how hard is it to be good to each other? If we'd open our Bibles, we'd know. Too, how hard is it to pee where we're supposed to? I'm tired of theaters and other public places wreaking of urine. It was almost worth standing on top of a swaying 6 story tower to get away from it ...that was until I got halfway down the swirling slide in pitch black, going what had to be 100 miles an hour with water spraying into my nose.
All I know is that canned Cheerwine in the cooler never tasted so good when we returned to the car twice and that the jeans I had to leave in were soaked; Dairy Queen was about 65 degrees; the money I saved paying for gas in South Carolina payed for the ice cream; and I was so cold that I took the jeans off to ride home ...and it was a great day for Melody and me.
It got even better when her sister came in from Georgia about an hour after we arrived home. She was bearing a requested tie dying kit for Melody and a kayaking trip to their hometown in The Blue Ridge for yesterday. Several of the others got to participate and I hope it confirmed to them that when they step up with the right attitude and right choices that even more good things can be waiting in the wings.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Diving Deeper
For a little while, I'll sit out here by the pond and continue what I started. For the family, today has already entailed a geometry lesson, mowing, job searching, straightening, a pond dip, and confirmation from the landlord that he'd "work with us". Mike called to fill me in on it. We have a decision to make out the van now. Too, since the repairs. the truck has only pulled light loads. Today is the test, because he's lined up for a heavy one. Before we finished the call, I gave him my 2 cents worth on his snacking. It was in reference to my telling the kids we can't have particular things and his having them regardless. I spoke respectfully, but to a man who's given up so much, it must've seemed overboard, especially from someone with my constitution and willfullness to present my case, that "being right" I wrote of. Right is many times a matter of perspective and isn't worth hurting someone over.
His one remaining medication is down to bare minimum. His consumption is rare. He's done away with tobacco but the cravings knab him sometimes. He eats whatever is placed before him, meat or no meat. He rarely curses and if so, in jest. He's still plagued by kidney stones, passing one last week. He understands that vacation is not an entitlement and rekindling romance or not, isn't financially reasonable.
Vacation entitlement was brought to my attention last year when a father I know said that although he'd been out of work and complained that the church hadn't stepped in enough, he was taking his family to the beach anyway. I guess he thought they deserved it. We haven't been to stay at the beach since Macklynn was 1, 6 years ago. I'd mulled these ideas over already when I heard a sermon as I sat in the car by the garden a couple of weeks ago. So many conservatives complain of political entitlements but are for them in their personal lives. How many of us assume that our spouses should do things for us, that vacation is automatic, that retirement is for sure, and so on?
These lean times remind me to pray, not just to thank that I got a safe, comfortable, good night's sleep but that I got it TODAY. Tomorrow isn't promised. Lean times mean that the animals don't get many scraps, that the same clothes get washed over and over, that entertainment loses its foothold. Then "lean times" can't be all bad. They are the solution, the path to gratuituos, clutter free, healthful. hard working life. It's seems a shame but I count it a blessing that God only gets my full attention when I can't rely on anything but Him. If it must be so, then I accept it, in order for me to steer clear of frivolous living.
Salmon, I'll be in cooking it soon. Except for a pack of bacon for Hoppin' John, it's the last meat in supply, aside from slaughtering chickens and yearling calves and catching the young fish we stocked the pond with. Some would argue that it's a time to consider vegetarianism. Especially as a temporary solution, it has grounds; so does fasting and I wish I'd understood it better and its place in times of stress. Perhaps I wouldn't have held onto this "Madalynn weight" so long. In the long run though, I view meat in the bodies of growing children and in pregnant and nursing women, as I was for so many years, with much esteem. The consideration here is to possibly shift into our own meat production. Putting that effort to the scales of time and true value is imperitive. Everybody has to be on board. Apart from our family survival, there are so many lives to reach and so much potential to meet. In future times of crisis, I never want to see or to have ill-prepared our children into suffering through starvation and destitution. It is said that without the mark of the beast, we will not be able to buy or sell. When that'll be, I don't pretend to know. To bear down in fear is a mistake. Here, we all know where we're going when the end arrives, so the real question is what is the most minimal way to survive and take souls with us to the other side. Things like bread baking are nice but flat bread sustains just fine. Beef is nice too but fish and venison are just fine.
This line of thinking leads me to the absurdity of game sports in which the game is trophied but not placed in the center of the table. It amazes me the number of people who call themselves "country" and don't even partake of the fish and wildlife they claim. Of course, this comes out of the mind of a concrete cowgirl. I love my boots but have worn through the soles of them by way of sidewalks and parking lots. Since they are in dire need of repair, it's a good time to strip off the long Wranglers because the illusion of a lengthy figure isn't going to get me truly thin. And with periods slowly becoming irregular, the girls noticing white hairs at my temples, and migrating aches and pains, if I don't take charge of my body, it's gladly taking charge of me.
In this meager position, rationing is reinstated. With it comes accountability and a new degree of thankfulness, that another meal has come together. It's happened so many times now that I can't mistake that bits and pieces of leftovers (not slobbered upon, of course ;) are my portion. I'm going with it because God and I have a good thing started.
Also today, I saw that we have about 3 tablespoons of granulated sugar left. As I drank the juice, which we haven't had in 2 weeks, from the pineapple can; I thought how sweet other things are when sugar isn't at our beckoning call. Other matters work the same way. I'm still in denial that a Food Stamp card is on its way. I really do want to know just how long we'd last on our own, with the extended family "lifeline" cut, as it should be. Firstly, I'll replenish what we'd stored; don't know if you've ever given thought to the calorie content of a can, but in the middle of catastrophic happenings, it matters. Green beans offer little except to curb appetite. I didn't even plant any in the garden. I normally don't buy a 15 oz can of anything if it has less than 400 calories. You say you're financially set. What happens when you can't get access to it? The best you can hope for is a good barter but not if what you have isn't necessity.
We've supplemented with about $30 of groceries for each of the last 3 weeks. Most of that was for milk, which has me brainstorming. Yes, we have dry milk, which keeps our homecooking moving, but that never substitutes for a good ole glass of milk, which I'd rather have than anything, probably because it offsets the acid from my the spicy tomatoey food I crave.
This card on the way has me pulling from my thoughts in my 20's of simple living. The difference is the emphasis. I was mostly concerned about being a bad steward, paralleling many of my thoughts with the environmental movement. With Mike's support on board from the political "environment", I'm renewed but with a much broader spectrum of theory. I mean, come on, how long did we think God would let us wallow in the excesses, indebtedness, and pride of intellect? Yes, Christian, I'm talking to you. How much are we really different from "the world"?
Debt - is being strangled by our own answers to difficulty or desire. Savings - after the wreck and surgeries, evaporated and was never really viable to fall back on to begin with. Truth is I love it when God provides and I didn't "go get it". I know, we have to be "go getters" if we want anything. But I just love it when we find a pair of cleats in the attic that are just what we needed. And worn in is a good thing, so blisters don't come into play on the field. Granted today's cleats were hand-me-downs from Michael, but currently the Milligan's and the Williams's passed along things that are our treasures. Months ago, moving from room to room, I noticed that the only belongings I have worth having were gifts, not entitlements/purchases, some of them things I needed right then and there. We can see God's hand in things when we don't keep so many things lying around. We do have some property that could be pawned but I know and hope that Mike is holding out on them in case moving expenses arise.
Melody found, along with those cleats, wool slippers of all sizes, things I used to keep on their feet in the mountains. I have a strong connection with those places and memories and am reminded once again that God has me ...and always has. Times there were daunting also, but He's continually put me where I could touch, see, and feel his creation because that's where I find less of me and more of Him.
I can't imagine it'll be all that comes from this, but a reevaluation is going on, a time of convergance of ideas between Mike and me, a time to give our children a true mentality of self sufficiency to carry forward into a worsening world, which will look for those who have a better answer ...and ours will carry the message that their is One God and His ways are not ours, but His home is if we believe.
In the meantime, this city girl will dust off her copy of "The Encyclopedia of Country Living" and set it beside her Bible, because who she was had no idea who the chick is that's dying to break entirely out of the shell and to put in every single ear that dying is living ...and that peace is that easy.
His one remaining medication is down to bare minimum. His consumption is rare. He's done away with tobacco but the cravings knab him sometimes. He eats whatever is placed before him, meat or no meat. He rarely curses and if so, in jest. He's still plagued by kidney stones, passing one last week. He understands that vacation is not an entitlement and rekindling romance or not, isn't financially reasonable.
Vacation entitlement was brought to my attention last year when a father I know said that although he'd been out of work and complained that the church hadn't stepped in enough, he was taking his family to the beach anyway. I guess he thought they deserved it. We haven't been to stay at the beach since Macklynn was 1, 6 years ago. I'd mulled these ideas over already when I heard a sermon as I sat in the car by the garden a couple of weeks ago. So many conservatives complain of political entitlements but are for them in their personal lives. How many of us assume that our spouses should do things for us, that vacation is automatic, that retirement is for sure, and so on?
These lean times remind me to pray, not just to thank that I got a safe, comfortable, good night's sleep but that I got it TODAY. Tomorrow isn't promised. Lean times mean that the animals don't get many scraps, that the same clothes get washed over and over, that entertainment loses its foothold. Then "lean times" can't be all bad. They are the solution, the path to gratuituos, clutter free, healthful. hard working life. It's seems a shame but I count it a blessing that God only gets my full attention when I can't rely on anything but Him. If it must be so, then I accept it, in order for me to steer clear of frivolous living.
Salmon, I'll be in cooking it soon. Except for a pack of bacon for Hoppin' John, it's the last meat in supply, aside from slaughtering chickens and yearling calves and catching the young fish we stocked the pond with. Some would argue that it's a time to consider vegetarianism. Especially as a temporary solution, it has grounds; so does fasting and I wish I'd understood it better and its place in times of stress. Perhaps I wouldn't have held onto this "Madalynn weight" so long. In the long run though, I view meat in the bodies of growing children and in pregnant and nursing women, as I was for so many years, with much esteem. The consideration here is to possibly shift into our own meat production. Putting that effort to the scales of time and true value is imperitive. Everybody has to be on board. Apart from our family survival, there are so many lives to reach and so much potential to meet. In future times of crisis, I never want to see or to have ill-prepared our children into suffering through starvation and destitution. It is said that without the mark of the beast, we will not be able to buy or sell. When that'll be, I don't pretend to know. To bear down in fear is a mistake. Here, we all know where we're going when the end arrives, so the real question is what is the most minimal way to survive and take souls with us to the other side. Things like bread baking are nice but flat bread sustains just fine. Beef is nice too but fish and venison are just fine.
This line of thinking leads me to the absurdity of game sports in which the game is trophied but not placed in the center of the table. It amazes me the number of people who call themselves "country" and don't even partake of the fish and wildlife they claim. Of course, this comes out of the mind of a concrete cowgirl. I love my boots but have worn through the soles of them by way of sidewalks and parking lots. Since they are in dire need of repair, it's a good time to strip off the long Wranglers because the illusion of a lengthy figure isn't going to get me truly thin. And with periods slowly becoming irregular, the girls noticing white hairs at my temples, and migrating aches and pains, if I don't take charge of my body, it's gladly taking charge of me.
In this meager position, rationing is reinstated. With it comes accountability and a new degree of thankfulness, that another meal has come together. It's happened so many times now that I can't mistake that bits and pieces of leftovers (not slobbered upon, of course ;) are my portion. I'm going with it because God and I have a good thing started.
Also today, I saw that we have about 3 tablespoons of granulated sugar left. As I drank the juice, which we haven't had in 2 weeks, from the pineapple can; I thought how sweet other things are when sugar isn't at our beckoning call. Other matters work the same way. I'm still in denial that a Food Stamp card is on its way. I really do want to know just how long we'd last on our own, with the extended family "lifeline" cut, as it should be. Firstly, I'll replenish what we'd stored; don't know if you've ever given thought to the calorie content of a can, but in the middle of catastrophic happenings, it matters. Green beans offer little except to curb appetite. I didn't even plant any in the garden. I normally don't buy a 15 oz can of anything if it has less than 400 calories. You say you're financially set. What happens when you can't get access to it? The best you can hope for is a good barter but not if what you have isn't necessity.
We've supplemented with about $30 of groceries for each of the last 3 weeks. Most of that was for milk, which has me brainstorming. Yes, we have dry milk, which keeps our homecooking moving, but that never substitutes for a good ole glass of milk, which I'd rather have than anything, probably because it offsets the acid from my the spicy tomatoey food I crave.
This card on the way has me pulling from my thoughts in my 20's of simple living. The difference is the emphasis. I was mostly concerned about being a bad steward, paralleling many of my thoughts with the environmental movement. With Mike's support on board from the political "environment", I'm renewed but with a much broader spectrum of theory. I mean, come on, how long did we think God would let us wallow in the excesses, indebtedness, and pride of intellect? Yes, Christian, I'm talking to you. How much are we really different from "the world"?
Debt - is being strangled by our own answers to difficulty or desire. Savings - after the wreck and surgeries, evaporated and was never really viable to fall back on to begin with. Truth is I love it when God provides and I didn't "go get it". I know, we have to be "go getters" if we want anything. But I just love it when we find a pair of cleats in the attic that are just what we needed. And worn in is a good thing, so blisters don't come into play on the field. Granted today's cleats were hand-me-downs from Michael, but currently the Milligan's and the Williams's passed along things that are our treasures. Months ago, moving from room to room, I noticed that the only belongings I have worth having were gifts, not entitlements/purchases, some of them things I needed right then and there. We can see God's hand in things when we don't keep so many things lying around. We do have some property that could be pawned but I know and hope that Mike is holding out on them in case moving expenses arise.
Melody found, along with those cleats, wool slippers of all sizes, things I used to keep on their feet in the mountains. I have a strong connection with those places and memories and am reminded once again that God has me ...and always has. Times there were daunting also, but He's continually put me where I could touch, see, and feel his creation because that's where I find less of me and more of Him.
I can't imagine it'll be all that comes from this, but a reevaluation is going on, a time of convergance of ideas between Mike and me, a time to give our children a true mentality of self sufficiency to carry forward into a worsening world, which will look for those who have a better answer ...and ours will carry the message that their is One God and His ways are not ours, but His home is if we believe.
In the meantime, this city girl will dust off her copy of "The Encyclopedia of Country Living" and set it beside her Bible, because who she was had no idea who the chick is that's dying to break entirely out of the shell and to put in every single ear that dying is living ...and that peace is that easy.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Would I, Could I, Should I?
I'm sitting in the Social Services office applying for help. Mike drove me here yesterday to begin the processes. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I cut several inches off my hair this morning because the "long tall Sally" look isn't working for someone who's looking more like Wynonna Judd. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I was at odds with Mike the whole 2 1/2 weeks he was home. We're having a hard time liking each other, much less loving. The romance reconnection superceded the friend one and we're both disappointed that our recommitment hasn't been the glorious reconciliation we had fantasized of. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I'm in the way again. In the depths of my conscience, I question, "But it's been over 20 years of this." God hears and says, "I'm still working. Would you just stay out of my way."
I fight for things that aren't mine to fight for. I try to right things that aren't mine to right. I've buffered the static for things that aren't meant to be silenced. When I'm quiet, my "friends", be sure that I'm in a clamorous battle, my pilgrimage made difficult by own interference.
Huh, in this lobby of misfits, there's a young couple just like we were, attentive to their precious little ones, passing bananas out to keep them occupied. He has on a familiar boot for an injury. She is well kempt but needs to shed some pounds. There is tension between them as she asks him to help her. I wish I could impart something, anything to them. Though, it'd help if I'd conquered much myself since then.
At home, we've spent these last weeks weighing options. The truck needs extensive repairs. Mike and Michael Jr. had worked for days and hours when Michael discovered a temporary fix. It's on the road now and left behind $166 in the bank.
I just finished an interview with a Medicaid worker. I have such dubious feelings about it all: faithless and patrioticless, that my hand resisted putting pen to paper for the application.
Her stomach growled so loudly that we both laughed. She explained that her nightly dialysis left no time to prepare a meal, so she went to bed. As the paperwork went on, the conversation led to her old friend, who'd given birth to 10 children and as the last one took flight, her sister and her husband were killed in a car wreck leaving her 8 more in the nest - sobering, and goes back to what I expressed about "mother of many" not being an automatic "ticket" for anything - it beckons my humility - which without, no act of mine or anyone's is of Christ.
Yesterday's worker (office #1355 :) shared that the case load in her 12 years has swelled from 250 to well over 500. That speaks to the economy and the depression we're already in, instead of approaching.
Food - we had stored, more for a disaster than a depression. It's come in very handy though. Sauces, broth, herbs, and peppers make a tremendous difference in the taste I can offer the family; I'm so thankful for that. I'll tell you too that opening a gallon can of nacho cheese can cause a stir! A busy summer has left our free range chickens too free and not laying; we haven't gotten to the point of slaughtering anything yet (but perhaps we should be). I've seen where we lack in dairy and protein preparedness but have enjoyed the challenge of putting the fresh, frozen, and canned garden things together with what else we had put back (including mounds of wheat from Y2K ;) ...which leads to my questions about the whole situation.
I've always said I'd rather live in a tent than to break apart what we've built with teaching the children. They're turning out "right". They possibly will be the only "right" we will have contributed. That answer pleased one of our workers and I will be pleased too to only leave that as my heritage. I heard recently that the son of A.A. Milne, creator of Pooh, was quoted that his Dad spent all his time entertaining other children instead of him. I can't go down like that.
So, am I willing to set up camp? I tossed about the idea of shacking up in the big storage building we still have in the mountains. Being on top of each other wasn't appealing to anyone. For years, I've been drawn freakishly to the notion that there is excitement in getting our hands that dirty, seeing if we might possess what it takes to live off the land. After all, John the Baptist ate locusts and honey. To force the children into such conditions, by quitting the over the road business altogether (as I've proposed), is a delicate dilemma. Although, while I was gone seeking assistance today, they were all out "running away" with Madalynn :) because Daddy wouldn't take her in the truck for fear that it'd break down. They hiked down by the creek; Michael started a fire with just flint and a cotton ball; Macklynn caught several fish and wanted to cook them; they were happy as larks when they popped back out of the woods.
We're eying up the road a cheaply priced quaint old home that has been restored on the inside but not the out. Is it time to purchase before bad credit prevents it? Is it even possible? Are we prolonging the inevitable? We're in debt out the wazoo just to stay afloat. Family has bent over backwards to help. What should we do?
There is a problem in being the woman of the couple. I love my position; I also hand over my independence by doing so. Husbands have authority to do as they will and in trusting God, we depend on them. That's a very, very hard row to hoe. I don't hoe it very well and that might be why I'm hoeing the same old spots after 23 years.
Tithing (not to be mistaken with philanthropy which is person centered, not God centered) - I 100% believe is the missing element. We're always against a wall that "prevents" it, which proves to me all the more why it's the "mystery" link. What we've been doing surely isn't working, no matter how we've gone about it. An opportunity to grace someone we know, who is working overseas for Samaritan's Purse, presented itself last week. It's kinda scary to hand back 10%; at the same time, it delights me thoroughly that we could go from "hit and miss" giving to hitting all the time!
In the passenger's seat on the way home yesterday, I became limp. You know when the ride jostles your head around? How I long to remain in that state, away from my own defenses, ready for instruction.
Instead, I let simple things dishearten me, like the editor's pick list from the contest I entered. I wasn't on it. My video was thrown together but I had a spark of hope anyway. What am I thinking? I'm nowhere near close to ready for a national stage.
Our kitchen is the best stage I can think of right now. In creatively scraping together meals, I've been in there a lot and grow more connected as I go. Being "center stage" keeps me in on everyone's intricacies. I'm also grasping the excess that remains since our last "downsizing". 5 of 8 of us are overweight, although that's shifting already. But too many hours are still spent on meaningless things, namely useless entertainment. Too much clutter is creeping in, while thankfulness and kindness are in too short of supply.
So, who am I to get frustrated so readily with Mike? It's a long journey from cursing to blessing, discontent to thankful, despicable to likeable, lazy to industrious, crude to conscientious, dependent to free. I should know, I'm still on my own journey to good.
In prior "downtimes", he'd have never settled for granola as a meal, for TV service disruption, for blood clear of substance, for talking with bill collectors in my stead, and all at the expense of anyone, including the children's modest accounts. It's true, and as I sit here waiting on another appointment, I'm slammed with the reality that Mike is not who he once was but, like so many of us, is also not who he's going to be.
I don't cut him a break and I didn't understand myself why, until I figured today that since he's given me a voice, it's terribly difficult to restrict it, especially when I'm certain I'm right. To settle back into a way of respect, trust, and submission is far easier said than done. But I ...have ...to ...find ...it.
As I was writing all this in my notebook from various slips of paper, the woman 2 seats down at Social Services asked me if I was grading papers. I told her I was just cataloging more of our crazy story, a compulsion I have to write as a witness of things to come. Her name is Melonie. "Her" story brought "mine" to a screeching halt. I'm convinced I had a meeting with destiny because hers is fading away, literally. She says she has cancer and lives in her car. She's 51, but her beautiful hair and teeth don't show it. We talked over healthcare, politics, and religion. When she said she used to believe in God, I surprised myself by crying when I told her I'm sure there is eternity and it might not look like it, but God loves her. She cried too. I may never see the harvest of her on Earth, perhaps because I would relish it too much, but my pitiful seed planting self will pray earnestly for her because her hardness was broken for a split second and that's where hope is born. In wrapping things up here, I'd say for you to pray for us and I hope you do; but as always, someone else, like Melonie, needs it more. So no matter what she did to get as alone as she is, would you, could you, should you hit your knees with me before she's alone forever? You and I were there once or maybe you're there now, so if you don't believe anything else I write, believe there's more out there than what you can see.
I cut several inches off my hair this morning because the "long tall Sally" look isn't working for someone who's looking more like Wynonna Judd. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I was at odds with Mike the whole 2 1/2 weeks he was home. We're having a hard time liking each other, much less loving. The romance reconnection superceded the friend one and we're both disappointed that our recommitment hasn't been the glorious reconciliation we had fantasized of. I wouldn't feel so lame if this were the first time.
I'm in the way again. In the depths of my conscience, I question, "But it's been over 20 years of this." God hears and says, "I'm still working. Would you just stay out of my way."
I fight for things that aren't mine to fight for. I try to right things that aren't mine to right. I've buffered the static for things that aren't meant to be silenced. When I'm quiet, my "friends", be sure that I'm in a clamorous battle, my pilgrimage made difficult by own interference.
Huh, in this lobby of misfits, there's a young couple just like we were, attentive to their precious little ones, passing bananas out to keep them occupied. He has on a familiar boot for an injury. She is well kempt but needs to shed some pounds. There is tension between them as she asks him to help her. I wish I could impart something, anything to them. Though, it'd help if I'd conquered much myself since then.
At home, we've spent these last weeks weighing options. The truck needs extensive repairs. Mike and Michael Jr. had worked for days and hours when Michael discovered a temporary fix. It's on the road now and left behind $166 in the bank.
I just finished an interview with a Medicaid worker. I have such dubious feelings about it all: faithless and patrioticless, that my hand resisted putting pen to paper for the application.
Her stomach growled so loudly that we both laughed. She explained that her nightly dialysis left no time to prepare a meal, so she went to bed. As the paperwork went on, the conversation led to her old friend, who'd given birth to 10 children and as the last one took flight, her sister and her husband were killed in a car wreck leaving her 8 more in the nest - sobering, and goes back to what I expressed about "mother of many" not being an automatic "ticket" for anything - it beckons my humility - which without, no act of mine or anyone's is of Christ.
Yesterday's worker (office #1355 :) shared that the case load in her 12 years has swelled from 250 to well over 500. That speaks to the economy and the depression we're already in, instead of approaching.
Food - we had stored, more for a disaster than a depression. It's come in very handy though. Sauces, broth, herbs, and peppers make a tremendous difference in the taste I can offer the family; I'm so thankful for that. I'll tell you too that opening a gallon can of nacho cheese can cause a stir! A busy summer has left our free range chickens too free and not laying; we haven't gotten to the point of slaughtering anything yet (but perhaps we should be). I've seen where we lack in dairy and protein preparedness but have enjoyed the challenge of putting the fresh, frozen, and canned garden things together with what else we had put back (including mounds of wheat from Y2K ;) ...which leads to my questions about the whole situation.
I've always said I'd rather live in a tent than to break apart what we've built with teaching the children. They're turning out "right". They possibly will be the only "right" we will have contributed. That answer pleased one of our workers and I will be pleased too to only leave that as my heritage. I heard recently that the son of A.A. Milne, creator of Pooh, was quoted that his Dad spent all his time entertaining other children instead of him. I can't go down like that.
So, am I willing to set up camp? I tossed about the idea of shacking up in the big storage building we still have in the mountains. Being on top of each other wasn't appealing to anyone. For years, I've been drawn freakishly to the notion that there is excitement in getting our hands that dirty, seeing if we might possess what it takes to live off the land. After all, John the Baptist ate locusts and honey. To force the children into such conditions, by quitting the over the road business altogether (as I've proposed), is a delicate dilemma. Although, while I was gone seeking assistance today, they were all out "running away" with Madalynn :) because Daddy wouldn't take her in the truck for fear that it'd break down. They hiked down by the creek; Michael started a fire with just flint and a cotton ball; Macklynn caught several fish and wanted to cook them; they were happy as larks when they popped back out of the woods.
We're eying up the road a cheaply priced quaint old home that has been restored on the inside but not the out. Is it time to purchase before bad credit prevents it? Is it even possible? Are we prolonging the inevitable? We're in debt out the wazoo just to stay afloat. Family has bent over backwards to help. What should we do?
There is a problem in being the woman of the couple. I love my position; I also hand over my independence by doing so. Husbands have authority to do as they will and in trusting God, we depend on them. That's a very, very hard row to hoe. I don't hoe it very well and that might be why I'm hoeing the same old spots after 23 years.
Tithing (not to be mistaken with philanthropy which is person centered, not God centered) - I 100% believe is the missing element. We're always against a wall that "prevents" it, which proves to me all the more why it's the "mystery" link. What we've been doing surely isn't working, no matter how we've gone about it. An opportunity to grace someone we know, who is working overseas for Samaritan's Purse, presented itself last week. It's kinda scary to hand back 10%; at the same time, it delights me thoroughly that we could go from "hit and miss" giving to hitting all the time!
In the passenger's seat on the way home yesterday, I became limp. You know when the ride jostles your head around? How I long to remain in that state, away from my own defenses, ready for instruction.
Instead, I let simple things dishearten me, like the editor's pick list from the contest I entered. I wasn't on it. My video was thrown together but I had a spark of hope anyway. What am I thinking? I'm nowhere near close to ready for a national stage.
Our kitchen is the best stage I can think of right now. In creatively scraping together meals, I've been in there a lot and grow more connected as I go. Being "center stage" keeps me in on everyone's intricacies. I'm also grasping the excess that remains since our last "downsizing". 5 of 8 of us are overweight, although that's shifting already. But too many hours are still spent on meaningless things, namely useless entertainment. Too much clutter is creeping in, while thankfulness and kindness are in too short of supply.
So, who am I to get frustrated so readily with Mike? It's a long journey from cursing to blessing, discontent to thankful, despicable to likeable, lazy to industrious, crude to conscientious, dependent to free. I should know, I'm still on my own journey to good.
In prior "downtimes", he'd have never settled for granola as a meal, for TV service disruption, for blood clear of substance, for talking with bill collectors in my stead, and all at the expense of anyone, including the children's modest accounts. It's true, and as I sit here waiting on another appointment, I'm slammed with the reality that Mike is not who he once was but, like so many of us, is also not who he's going to be.
I don't cut him a break and I didn't understand myself why, until I figured today that since he's given me a voice, it's terribly difficult to restrict it, especially when I'm certain I'm right. To settle back into a way of respect, trust, and submission is far easier said than done. But I ...have ...to ...find ...it.
As I was writing all this in my notebook from various slips of paper, the woman 2 seats down at Social Services asked me if I was grading papers. I told her I was just cataloging more of our crazy story, a compulsion I have to write as a witness of things to come. Her name is Melonie. "Her" story brought "mine" to a screeching halt. I'm convinced I had a meeting with destiny because hers is fading away, literally. She says she has cancer and lives in her car. She's 51, but her beautiful hair and teeth don't show it. We talked over healthcare, politics, and religion. When she said she used to believe in God, I surprised myself by crying when I told her I'm sure there is eternity and it might not look like it, but God loves her. She cried too. I may never see the harvest of her on Earth, perhaps because I would relish it too much, but my pitiful seed planting self will pray earnestly for her because her hardness was broken for a split second and that's where hope is born. In wrapping things up here, I'd say for you to pray for us and I hope you do; but as always, someone else, like Melonie, needs it more. So no matter what she did to get as alone as she is, would you, could you, should you hit your knees with me before she's alone forever? You and I were there once or maybe you're there now, so if you don't believe anything else I write, believe there's more out there than what you can see.
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