Thursday morning, February 23rd.
Do I start here in this hospital room and work backwards, or do I start where I left off in December and work forward? Coming or going, not sure sometimes.
Mike is in surgery for his shoulder. The MRI shows a complete rotator cuff tear, possible bicep separation, large bone spur, arthritis, broken collarbone "mal" regrowth, all covered in fluid from the exacerbation. The pain he has been experiencing the past year is the single most threat to his sobriety.
His doctor is the very same one who performed similar surgery on Michael 2 years ago. He says that he has no idea how Mike has been working with the condition his shoulder is in. What he didn't know is that Mike had been "eating" acetaminophen and ibuprofen to cope and taking large doses of antihistamine to sleep, in an attempt to stay clean but at the expense of his stomach, liver, and heart either way. It's been all he could do to get done with a work day to just come home and lie down for the evening then wrestle with sleep. I've slept on the couch a lot of nights just so I could have some uninterrupted rest. It's been hard on this already pressed marriage, which fares better the more we are together enabling us to dwell less on the past that we both have
Miranda is home with a bad cold coming on. She went to the gym anyway this morning. That's a really big deal for her, to stay on course. I've watched all the older kids grind through their pain and illness and work out anyway. It's a huge inspiration.
Macklynn and Madalynn, now 12 and 9 after this recent round of February birthdays, when McKala and Michael turned 20 and 19, are a different story. They've been "couch ridden" ever since we got back from Georgia mid January. It must've been some version of the flu and has hung on for weeks, after the initial days of high fever and incessant cough. Now, they both have secondary sinus infections with headaches and ear pain. Not exactly what I had pictured for our New Year. They both are pale and puny.
At least this setback is after Christmas, the Christmas that was much more about Christ. Yes, we enjoyed countless hours of games and fellowship with family and friends, accompanied by hysterical laughter. Yes, we attended candlelight and morning services steeped in sentiment of the Christ Child. But as important, more so really, was the behind the scenes daily activity.
There was the Crisis Pregnancy Center volunteer dinner Miranda coordinated. There was the funeral where she, Melody, and Michael were asked to sing Christmas carols, in hopes that someone would receive the Lord in spite of the deceased who did not. There was a lot of loss of life actually, half a dozen in our realm. So, it was no question to share a pot of chili with our next door neighbors who lost their father. There was the provision in the drawing of names, where Michael and Miranda gladly got new jeans and Timothy and Melody happily received bags, one for bowling and the other for swimming.
There was the family friend who put it upon herself to ensure Madalynn had a new dress and Macklynn a new belt. There was finally catching up all the bills. There was work and discovery. Macklynn jumped 4 grades in reading level, but he also learned how to properly iron his dress shirts and got a refresher on how to neatly wrap a gift. He got to dogsit. He filled in a hole in the yard and cleaned out the whole refrigerator, where he stored the heart of Michael's harvested deer, for intermittent inspection. He learned about Eric Liddell and Krampus. We all learned a little more about Krampus than we meant to when we rented the wrong movie, not understanding that there is a whole horror movie culture devoted to "him."
There was the blood drive, where Miranda gave blood for the first time, and I did for the first time in a long time. It all seems rather heroic until you start seeing stars and they throw your seat back, bring you juice, and put what feels like a jet propelled fan on your lap. Yeah, I still haven't reconciled completely with needles.
There were the conversations: ones Melody came to me with about starting up a Bible study with her swim team and about inviting one of them to church and about joining our choir; ones with Michael about girls who had let him know they were home alone and how he knows if a person thinks on these things long enough they will do them, so instead he went to the gatherings our pastor and wife had in their home for people his age; ones with Miranda about new relationships she's made and how she's burdened for their hurt and salvation; ones with Megan about family relationships and how she might affect their understanding of a daily walk with Christ; ones with McKala about her babies and her belief amidst the health findings and the insurance problems.
We thought up until Monday that her twins were not only identical sharing the same placenta but also the same sac, which poses a risk that only 1 in 100 sets of twins carries, a 35% chance of mortality due to strangulation by one another's cords. Praise God, they found a barrier between the babies, so that danger is void.
Statistics, we can't accurately assess Michael's chances of playing Division 1 ball in college. Because while they are 1 in 42 for high schoolers, what are they for kids who were homeschooled
Monday night, February 27th.
Mike is sitting here beside me happily watching a White House documentary on his new big screen TV. His postsurgical pain is no worse than his presurgical. His shoulder had gotten that bad.
I should be happy that we're on the good side of bad, that brighter days are coming. Instead I'm in a haze of days run together. We haven't made forward progress in weeks and weeks. Maintenance is about all we've mustered.
I had hoped we would achieve some goals before the onslaught of changes midyear. Instead, I feel like my feet have been knocked out from under me. No particular routine, not even in sleep for anyone. Mike needs me to give him his meds every 4 hours round the clock. Macklynn and Madalynn missed so much sleep from coughing that Madalynn especially has been taking naps. I know they're growing a lot right now, too. It won't be long before Macklynn is as tall as I am.
Screens have taken hold again, much less this dad-blasted cable we have now, which I'll be glad to access this fall when Michael plays on ESPN.
And although Mike and I have still not figured out how to entirely be "for" each other, the fact that we haven't been "against" each other has kept my immunity uncompromised for the last year from a myriad of conditions, until recently.
How I want to get over myself, to never have another self conscious thought, so that I am in the moment, nothing to hide, all in, surrendered, which is my reasonable service to my Lord who suffered so greatly. I don't want any gimmicks, any easy ways out or through. I just don't want to defame God ever again in any way. I don't want to do a thing to hurt another person's faith. I don't want to miss another opportunity to boldly profess Christ. "And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the father by him." (Col 3:17).
Not only do I want to make my husband's life easier, I also want to make him feel loved no matter how I feel. As soon as I took this new responsibility on board, we watched a video of Michael's coach talking about all that people will remember about us is how we made them feel. You know, whether we took the time, whether we listened, whether we helped, whether we told them the truth, whether we were genuine, whether we cared. Greg Laurie talked about it this morning, that people can tell if we care or not. It's what Michael talked about over Christmas break, that if only each of us could find someone who actually cared, a girl one day who actually cares about who he is, him who he is.
As wives, it's not just our duty to look our best but to feel our best. A woman who feels pretty becomes a giver, not a taker. She has nothing to prove. She is in obedience and discipline with God. He is her defense, her cultivator, her source of all good things. He is her trust and helper, so that she can be her husband's. She is not a victim. She is a saint, thankful for all things. Every bite, every thought moves her/ME closer to or further from the number one person in my life. If I won't commit to this, I have no business committing to anything other than the children of course, whom I am wounding in my disregard of properly aspiring to my role as wife.
All this is ever on my mind and becomes threatened when havoc inevitably visits. I still have a window to establish particular, personal order before the goings on of summer. I am still believer that there are things learned in chaos that can only be learned in chaos. But I'm also a believer in daily disciplines, preparedness, offensive action, preemptive moves. Again my favorite verse, "Commit thy works unto the LORD, and thy thoughts shall be established." (Prov. 13:6).
Today I took back the Bible study series I intended to share. Mike's surgery wound up scheduled for the selfsame day I planned our first study. The delay gave me enough time to pray and research more, coming to the conclusion that although there are some women teaching some good things, they are not the best things taught in right structure. The word of God is found in His Word, meditation on His Word, unadulterated.
Today Megan went back to Georgia after having her 3rd interview with Samaritan's Purse for the assistant position to what her father did there. We are seeing things come full circle.
Today I'd like some normalcy so that we can get back to the Y to shoot some hoops, to the backyard to shoot the bows, to the lake to use our poles, to the range to shoot my Christmas ammo.
Today Mom is bearing weight on her foot, and I'm glad we got to go and do a few things for HER for once.
Today I'd give most anything to wake up to my established pattern of groaning in spirit, grunting in body, and the often grueling work of teaching. I have to learn these things or I'm no use to outside world or the inside really, because what have I taught the kids if I have not taught them to share the Good News and to make disciples. It's all related and more than enough incentive to press on to excellence.
Wednesday morning, March 1
What all this really is is an assassination attempt on my spiritual walk, being tripped up by the same ole, same ole. Mike returned to work today. I tried to sleep in, despite the 3 or 4 times the phone rang. The first day of the month seemed like a good kick-off point. Funny how we're always making deals with God that way: nice, clean cut, "I'll do it when" deals.
No longer had I sat down to document these things than Mike came by with his jokes, which usually feel like stabs to me, especially when he says he's retiring in 9 years so he doesn't care if I sleep in. He knows that gets me every time, and he always acts like he didn't mean anything by it.
I just needed a day, a day to recuperate. I don't wish any harm on anyone and I don't regret the days and nights of giving care. I just need some down time. I hate having to feel like I have to apologize for it, but I do. Not that the world revolves around me, but that if Mike ever feels isolated or neglected that he might go astray again. It's a heavy weight I wish I didn't have, but I do. And God knows, so I'll be over this low spot soon enough.
I could be wrong, because I often am, but I think I am at a pivotal place of surrendering every single thing or living a ho-hum existence, if one at all. I mean, people do get cut from the vine when they willfully become useless or a hindrance.
I'm hearing thunder from the approaching storm. TVs have been on for so many days and weeks that I welcome the silence to hear it.
Excess, I just want it to be all gone. I don't want anything that isn't necessary: in my diet, in my home, in the children's learning. I believe it is time to hunker down in our personal lives so that we might have opportunity to make a difference in someone else's life.
It seems good that I regain lost ground by losing the not 10 but a solid 15 pounds I've gained in the last 12 months, the same rate at which I lost the original 35. My clothes are snug, which lends itself away from modesty. My self esteem is such that I'm not apt to pursue my husband, which appears to be only way for me to accept his advances. My children are still not strong enough readers to independently pursue knowledge.
I think it is time to focus solely on only immediately needful things. My body needs only lean meat (because of my family's history of cholesterol/incidence of heart attack) and vegetables and maybe fruit to sustain itself as it uses the stores it already has. My children need only to be confident in their reading so that other doors will spring wide open to them. We need to look at maximum number or pages, not minimums. I need to look at maximum reps of exercise, not minimums. Yes, something is better than nothing, so minimum has its place. But there comes a time in a person's life where more is required.
I have to quit ignoring that my midafternoon temptation always comes, that I crash. My immediate response is to grab a snack. What it ought to be is rest and meditation on God's Word. I won't even be posting this prior to this trial I am about to go through, because I've written about it before and don't want to discourage anyone that it never ends.
I avoid legalism as much as I can. It's especially important not to burden another person with it. But law is lacking these days. The obedience of law speaks to how much we trust in our Lord.
Melody has begun driving herself to and from school, so that frees up an hour of my day. Mike doesn't like breakfast, so that frees up more time. Macklynn is bowing out of baseball, so that frees up evenings.
It seems reasonable that I would study the Bible after Mike leaves for work around 7:15. It seems reasonable to do strengthening exercises and to groom between 8 and 9. And it seems reasonable to have to Macklynn and Madalynn read from 9 to 12. That frees up the rest of the day to maintain the house, yard, and car. Those done efficiently frees up time to play and practice/perform cardio before supper needs to be prepared. And that leaves time for however Mike would like to handle the evenings.
The order matters to me: Bible, body, babies. Doing these things early ensures that they aren't stifled out somehow by the day's events. It's discipline, plain and simple.
I've had so much of pizza and subs, which I believe Mike has offered/purchased to ease the burden of cooking. I've had ice cream, donuts, brownies, and cookies with the kids. Thankfully, there were days I was on target, so that I have "solidly" maintained my weight since December, 193 pounds. That's a big number to look at in print.
I have to decide, no matter how I feel, to take only my portion from the Lord. "Portion" is used over and over in the Psalms. The only way this works for me is to literally ask God what I might eat (given my provision), sit down with God to eat, and offer what bites I'm not to have back to God. Sad but true. I have to be fed like a child. Sad but good, good that my reliance is such. This way is prepared for me and is done for me. I am to be thankful during, before, and after. The after, the maintenance, is everyone's vice. "I've lost the weight. Now what do I do?" Most likely forget that it was done in the power of the Lord and cease to revere Him in eating. That's when the weight comes creeping back. And before you know it, you've blown back up 15 pounds.
In the next 3 months, at least, I want not to have another perverse thought in arousal, something that caught hold of me as I was encouraged to do so. I want not to have back-up plan thoughts or even questions. I want to trust God in today. I want to obey him by surrendering my spirit, soul/mind, and body entirely, withholding nothing.
I don't want to have to confide in or depend on anyone but the Lord. That's a little risky because personal accountability is ordinarily a good thing.
Peppers and vinegar based condiments cause me to need dairy. Dairy isn't necessary temporarily. Water is the only needful drink. Carbs are for energy. I'm wearing them already. Foods, aside from vegetables, good for cholesterol are also. Truth is I'd be ashamed if the only reason I cared was for my own survival, instead of service.
No mouth, all action.
It'd be good to show people that what seems impossible isn't.
Besides, I have those babies coming in between Melody's spring softball games and Michael's fall football games. I need to have my act together once and for all.
Pretty tired of being crippled by that which I won't accomplish.
Not sure where this is going or where it will stop, but all I can do is start. I don't want to be one of those people who doesn't know when to quit or is too scared to hit a plateau, a good one. I don't want to accelerate my the appearances of aging either. Adding back in fats, sugars, and salt will be/should be a careful process, else I would've never gotten where I am anyway.
If I don't do this, I'll never know how much of our intimacy problems are me and how much are him or what could've been, especially before menopausal symptoms begin.
I told Miranda I have trouble hearing singers who are given to gluttony. She promptly said, "Well, you're fat," which technically automatically disqualifies me.
Considering quitting coffee after all I've written. Mike says it's "my" addiction.
Considering leaving the two pound bag of chocolate he gave for Valentine's in my desk. Not much of an accomplishment if I remove the fruit of the forbidden "Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil."
Stop accepting gifts of food, graciously of course.
This is akin to a fast, to follow the Lord into something unforeseen.
Stop looking for something to feel.
"Therefore also now, saith the LORD, turn ye even to me with all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning. And rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the LORD your God: for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil." (Joel 2: 12-13).
Wednesday night, March 8th.
I quit drinking coffee a week ago. It seemed like the right thing to do after I jumped all over Mike for coming home for lunch (although he was jeering me) the day he returned to work. And the day before I was very impatient with the photography situation for Madalynn's swim team. I had to go back an apologize for being short with the woman.
I had forgotten that Mike said he had quit his antidepressants and that now he's only on protonix and blood pressure medicine, from a medicine chest of prescriptions. So, he wasn't only coming off his pain meds.
I hadn't told him about the coffee either. So, Friday night was the perfect storm. Unfortunately, Michael had just gotten home for spring break. McKala had come to watch Melody play softball and to take the two of them to Charleston to meet up with Megan for the weekend. So, they had to hear the bickering another familiar time.
Come to find out, I was coming down with my disease not once but twice, consecutively. I guess the bottom finally fell out for me. I'd been on high alert too long.
Add in the allergy headaches from unseasonably warm weather, and I've slept hours and hours. I've kept things up and cooked supper, but that's all. It's as though I'm starting at ground zero, a clean slate to figure out how many hours to sleep. Madalynn's nose is pouring, so haven't been anywhere: art, swim, nor church. It's as though we have nothing to do BUT the fundamental of reading that I have aimed so high for recently.
We have the opportunity to eat minimumly, thoughtfully, not on the run. So far though, I've been so zapped for energy that I've snacked a lot and obviously haven't exercised. It's been like a real vacation, for real.
They told Mike his overtime is done for the season, so ideally we'll actually have evenings to spend that he won't be worn out.
We've got the chance to get off the treadmill, out to the rat race.
Mike is having a sleep study done tonight. In the very near future, I'm told he should feel like a new man with a CPAP. We ought to be able to sleep together and through the night, without even the offset of coffee for me, which I feel like in the long run was cutting my own of hours of sleep short.
The thing that was happening in my spiral was discouragement. The adversary thought that doubt would work on my optimistic mind. And it can comes close when I feel inadequate, when I fight my circumstances, when I question if I'm useful to other women. I've kept little, if any, contact with the outside.
Friday morning, March 10th.
This is what keeps coming to mind, Titus 2, "But speak thou the things which become sound doctrine: ...The aged women likewise, that they be in behavior as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; that they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed."
That's it. That's all. All there is for me to teach. I have to remember not to add to or skirt around these things, else I'm creating confusion and wasting time.
This morning I woke up with my eyes matted. Pollen everywhere. I'm supposed to start in a couple of days. It's best to keep calm, lie low, be slow and steady, to just snuggle up with my family. I'm thankful to be home especially during times like these.
Mike took me to Bethel Colony of Mercy last night. Pastor Ritchie said a lot of things in the service and that if we don't need coffee to wake us up when we have the Holy Spirit. For me it's, "All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any." (1 Cor. 6:12). Although I normally only have one, dark, big cup of coffee, Mike's says I'm addicted. I don't like that I have to have any particular thing.
That particular thing caused me to show my backside when I thought a cup on Sunday morning would be all right. I had sweat running down my back while I was getting ready for church, then drilled Mike on a couple of things before I left. I was so ashamed of myself by the time I got back and wondered how many other times I've spoken or acted that way "under the influence."
On the way home, I was stressing some of very overdue gifts. I just now got our son-in-law's silicon wedding band for his birthday last October. Melody still hasn't gotten a 16th birthday gift from August. Mike just ordered Macklynn's present from February. I still have a two wedding gifts, a graduation gift and 4 coming up, all people who have bought gifts for our children in the last year. I don't want it to become a stumblingblock of double standard. I asked God, "What can I give?" He knows that I mean that is affordable and reasonable in my husband's eyes.
I was suddenly reminded that He has given me something not just anyone can do. I have the ability to draw what I see. That might be the one the most personal gifts a person can get. Sometimes I need something to do in the evenings if Mike is watching TV, but I don't want to check out entirely by reading. It just might work.
Then, today I read a fellow blogger who hasn't in a year because she thought she needed to be doing bigger things, ministry. With small children, she was working herself to death, had decided to bury the very talents she had.
I also read today, "It is discipline, not desire, that will determine your destiny and greatness." Dr. Charles Stanley. I'm not interested in the prosperity of it. I just don't want to wonder anymore what would've or who could've been.
The scale, my friend and enemy. I had to know what I'd gotten to, which was 193 after Christmas. I had been as low as 175 on the perfect day this time last year. Let's take 177 and 191, 14 pounds times 3,500 calories = 49,000. 52 weeks divided by that is only 942 extra calories a week, one splurge in a day even, ten Reese's eggs like Mike bought me the other day. That's a pretty tight rope.
I've been in this sin so long that it's hard to see a straight way. It's not like coffee, alcohol, or cigarettes that a person can do without altogether. I have to ask God, ask Him, again, childlike, about every meal, every bite even. Funny how we thank after the fact for so many things but food, even though we don't really mean it with food. We're thankful to have to choice to consume it upon our lust is all.
All this rest is a good beginning. My main trigger for mindless eating is tiredness. I also have to deal with the times that I just want the food, no big deep seated problem, just lust for the food. I have to find my hunger once more. When I have it with regularity, I can almost feel my metabolism burning.
Thursday morning, March 16th.
Funny how I'm in full support of all things wifely, the institution if you will, until he's here all day or all weekend, the way he is today.
He's really struggling. He has a lot of pain still from the surgery and is back on meds. I have to distribute them to him. He has slept all week. I don't think he's been still more than an hour at a time. The pain pills and the Ambien have a reverse effect on him. The dip stimulates him even more. The donuts. He hasn't had much caffeine in a few days, thankfully.
If we could get him on the oxygen and his shoulder healed, it seems like he'd be so different. He claims he'll change his habits then. Good nights of sleep alone should change everything, for us both actually: physically, mentally, and sexually. He's distraught that our intimacy is almost nonexistent. He wasn't happy when I took one for the team last night. He says he wants me to want to. For that, I'm glad. It's hard after a night like Saturday, when he tells old stories of his antics and everyone just laughs.
With everything stepped back, I've had time to entertain a "tonight" mentality. From the time I wake up, I ought to be preparing for the evening, for his return, to be pleasing to him.
I want to share that with other women. I'm glad to have been reoriented away from teachers/preachers who are involved in contemplative prayer. I'm glad to get understanding about the NAR movement and the Emergent one. No one seems to be able to commit to the study right now. That is probably good since I need to get centered.
I was hit with another old temptation this week, procrastination. Unreality, no man's land. As though today can wait. What a fine line between living by works and living by faith.
Right now: sleeping, reading, cleaning, and cooking (and moderate eating), of course. Sleeping is almost impossible. Night before last I was woken up no less than 12 times between him, the kids, the dogs, and the phone. Instead of retaliating, I'm just sleeping in instead of freaking out over a schedule. I'm not drinking caffeine and I'm not energy eating.
I was able the other night to see myself as a vessel, my body separate and submitted to my spirit. How I've abused it. The kids keep saying I look and sound sad. I'd say broken, but broken and submitted go well together. I'm willing to be bent however I need to be. My heart is more toward home than I remember it to be in a long time. It's not trying secretly to flee or consider options, if only in imaginations, unwarranted even.
I want to the kids to have something to excite them out of bed, like a skill to perfect or task to complete or friends to consider.
What I do like is that Macklynn is 12 and full of affection, and obedience and humor, for the most part. Pulling him away from his games is hard, but I must tantalize him and her from her videos, creative as they may be. I'm also asking God that the push mower work for him, that a boat be had, that he gets access to a lab and new camps. I'm asking about everything from now on. I'm sorry that I've done so many things out of tradition.
Countenance. Modesty. Stewardship.
Sunday afternoon, March 19th.
Melody has been throwing up all morning. Mike woke me up several times again last night, once all but demanding sex. I had some coffee this morning, just to make sure I'd get to church. 4 of us went. For the second time this month, I literally had just written something down during the sermon when he said the very same thing. I love that kind of confirmation.
I also wrote down that I should pray over Mike. I was thinking outloud, which is still hard for me to do with him, but when I got home he was sleeping. So, I stood over him and prayed for all that ails him and that he would put his defense and pleasure in trust of the Lord. He woke up while ago and when I asked if he needed anything, he was short with me, hateful. I had said earlier that he had taken Benadryl to sleep, because I found it in the floor. But apparently, I was wrong and I said as much. I told him I had prayed over him and that I hope we'll get back to a physical relationship, that it was hard after he determined to leave me here on a trip to Greensboro I was to accompany him on. All he did Friday morning was kick the bed, demand his pills and leave.
And as nice as it was to take McKala and Timothy to go see Michael's spring game, Mike was wound pretty tight and was downright mean a few times. I know the pain puts him even more on edge, but day after day with him wears on me. Just a few minutes ago, he told me he was leaving again, trying not to sound threatening, that it would just be better for everybody, but that he was just going to pay me $1,000 a month. He always puts me on a leash. I didn't get defensive. I didn't try to reason. I didn't whine. I just cried big tears that we're back to this. The only good thing is that his abrasiveness polishes me as (the daughters, polished stones). I have to stop trying to save myself. Matthew 16:24. Luke 4:18.
I've been determined not to think on the pities of people for my comfort, especially those of men. No man is my help, only the Lord. Anything else is covetous, leading to unrest, discontent, unthankfulness, and a disconnect that steals my peace and purpose.
I was even especially careful eating yesterday during the pressure. He knows I don't like to eat there, but I didn't let on at all, and got a low carb burger from Hardee's. Then on the way home, I got a taco salad, barely ate the shell, and ate chip crumbs with salsa.
This morning, however, I saw that part of a quesadilla was left in the frig and ate it. Then, I found our Melody was nauseous. All I can do is wait and see now.
I can only hope he's going back to work tomorrow and that I will continue in the calm serenity that I have claimed and that has carried me. I have remorse that I have finished my second reading of Psalms. Near the end, it says that the Lord will "beautify the meek with salvation." I love that. Meekness has alluded? me so long. I'm loud, independent, and tough, even when I don't mean to be. I hope I'm coming to end of that me and to the beginning of a meek me.
Another good thing is that my face is much clearer since I've been exfoliating with a wash cloth. I'm not so ashamed to go in public or to divert attention to other things.
Food AND sex. Two things I can't just up and quit doing. I wish I could relegate sex to a simple physical need of release. Maybe I'm supposed to. Maybe I'm not supposed to expect that the spirit be intertwined in it. I've wanted that for so long that I don't know exactly how to disconnect the two. Like I told him while ago, "I'm a person." I wish I were more, but I'm not.
Evening.
I'm thankful the sun was shining brightly today and that I had the porch as a retreat. I played the song, "Even If." I heard it for the first time yesterday in the car. McKala sang every word, which made my heart smile. Because that means she has been listening voluntarily to Christian music, without reminders from Mama.
While I sat out there, I thought how good it is just to have the elements. We used to have immediate access to them. Now, it just takes some forethought. There is a state park 4 mile and a lake 8 miles from here. I hope that it is noble to want to appreciate and discover God's creation with my children, while praying to find lost or struggling souls along the way. Isn't that what Jesus did? He lived with his disciples and spent the days with them teaching and ministering not only to them but to the ones by the wayside. Is there any better way to teach my children than the way Jesus taught his disciples and led by example, together?
No mouth, all action.
It'd be good to show people that what seems impossible isn't.
Besides, I have those babies coming in between Melody's spring softball games and Michael's fall football games. I need to have my act together once and for all.
Pretty tired of being crippled by that which I won't accomplish.
Not sure where this is going or where it will stop, but all I can do is start. I don't want to be one of those people who doesn't know when to quit or is too scared to hit a plateau, a good one. I don't want to accelerate my the appearances of aging either. Adding back in fats, sugars, and salt will be/should be a careful process, else I would've never gotten where I am anyway.
If I don't do this, I'll never know how much of our intimacy problems are me and how much are him or what could've been, especially before menopausal symptoms begin.
I told Miranda I have trouble hearing singers who are given to gluttony. She promptly said, "Well, you're fat," which technically automatically disqualifies me.
Considering quitting coffee after all I've written. Mike says it's "my" addiction.
Considering leaving the two pound bag of chocolate he gave for Valentine's in my desk. Not much of an accomplishment if I remove the fruit of the forbidden "Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil."
Stop accepting gifts of food, graciously of course.
This is akin to a fast, to follow the Lord into something unforeseen.
Stop looking for something to feel.
"Therefore also now, saith the LORD, turn ye even to me with all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning. And rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the LORD your God: for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil." (Joel 2: 12-13).
Wednesday night, March 8th.
I quit drinking coffee a week ago. It seemed like the right thing to do after I jumped all over Mike for coming home for lunch (although he was jeering me) the day he returned to work. And the day before I was very impatient with the photography situation for Madalynn's swim team. I had to go back an apologize for being short with the woman.
I had forgotten that Mike said he had quit his antidepressants and that now he's only on protonix and blood pressure medicine, from a medicine chest of prescriptions. So, he wasn't only coming off his pain meds.
I hadn't told him about the coffee either. So, Friday night was the perfect storm. Unfortunately, Michael had just gotten home for spring break. McKala had come to watch Melody play softball and to take the two of them to Charleston to meet up with Megan for the weekend. So, they had to hear the bickering another familiar time.
Come to find out, I was coming down with my disease not once but twice, consecutively. I guess the bottom finally fell out for me. I'd been on high alert too long.
Add in the allergy headaches from unseasonably warm weather, and I've slept hours and hours. I've kept things up and cooked supper, but that's all. It's as though I'm starting at ground zero, a clean slate to figure out how many hours to sleep. Madalynn's nose is pouring, so haven't been anywhere: art, swim, nor church. It's as though we have nothing to do BUT the fundamental of reading that I have aimed so high for recently.
We have the opportunity to eat minimumly, thoughtfully, not on the run. So far though, I've been so zapped for energy that I've snacked a lot and obviously haven't exercised. It's been like a real vacation, for real.
They told Mike his overtime is done for the season, so ideally we'll actually have evenings to spend that he won't be worn out.
We've got the chance to get off the treadmill, out to the rat race.
Mike is having a sleep study done tonight. In the very near future, I'm told he should feel like a new man with a CPAP. We ought to be able to sleep together and through the night, without even the offset of coffee for me, which I feel like in the long run was cutting my own of hours of sleep short.
The thing that was happening in my spiral was discouragement. The adversary thought that doubt would work on my optimistic mind. And it can comes close when I feel inadequate, when I fight my circumstances, when I question if I'm useful to other women. I've kept little, if any, contact with the outside.
Friday morning, March 10th.
This is what keeps coming to mind, Titus 2, "But speak thou the things which become sound doctrine: ...The aged women likewise, that they be in behavior as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; that they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed."
That's it. That's all. All there is for me to teach. I have to remember not to add to or skirt around these things, else I'm creating confusion and wasting time.
This morning I woke up with my eyes matted. Pollen everywhere. I'm supposed to start in a couple of days. It's best to keep calm, lie low, be slow and steady, to just snuggle up with my family. I'm thankful to be home especially during times like these.
Mike took me to Bethel Colony of Mercy last night. Pastor Ritchie said a lot of things in the service and that if we don't need coffee to wake us up when we have the Holy Spirit. For me it's, "All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any." (1 Cor. 6:12). Although I normally only have one, dark, big cup of coffee, Mike's says I'm addicted. I don't like that I have to have any particular thing.
That particular thing caused me to show my backside when I thought a cup on Sunday morning would be all right. I had sweat running down my back while I was getting ready for church, then drilled Mike on a couple of things before I left. I was so ashamed of myself by the time I got back and wondered how many other times I've spoken or acted that way "under the influence."
On the way home, I was stressing some of very overdue gifts. I just now got our son-in-law's silicon wedding band for his birthday last October. Melody still hasn't gotten a 16th birthday gift from August. Mike just ordered Macklynn's present from February. I still have a two wedding gifts, a graduation gift and 4 coming up, all people who have bought gifts for our children in the last year. I don't want it to become a stumblingblock of double standard. I asked God, "What can I give?" He knows that I mean that is affordable and reasonable in my husband's eyes.
I was suddenly reminded that He has given me something not just anyone can do. I have the ability to draw what I see. That might be the one the most personal gifts a person can get. Sometimes I need something to do in the evenings if Mike is watching TV, but I don't want to check out entirely by reading. It just might work.
Then, today I read a fellow blogger who hasn't in a year because she thought she needed to be doing bigger things, ministry. With small children, she was working herself to death, had decided to bury the very talents she had.
I also read today, "It is discipline, not desire, that will determine your destiny and greatness." Dr. Charles Stanley. I'm not interested in the prosperity of it. I just don't want to wonder anymore what would've or who could've been.
The scale, my friend and enemy. I had to know what I'd gotten to, which was 193 after Christmas. I had been as low as 175 on the perfect day this time last year. Let's take 177 and 191, 14 pounds times 3,500 calories = 49,000. 52 weeks divided by that is only 942 extra calories a week, one splurge in a day even, ten Reese's eggs like Mike bought me the other day. That's a pretty tight rope.
I've been in this sin so long that it's hard to see a straight way. It's not like coffee, alcohol, or cigarettes that a person can do without altogether. I have to ask God, ask Him, again, childlike, about every meal, every bite even. Funny how we thank after the fact for so many things but food, even though we don't really mean it with food. We're thankful to have to choice to consume it upon our lust is all.
All this rest is a good beginning. My main trigger for mindless eating is tiredness. I also have to deal with the times that I just want the food, no big deep seated problem, just lust for the food. I have to find my hunger once more. When I have it with regularity, I can almost feel my metabolism burning.
Thursday morning, March 16th.
Funny how I'm in full support of all things wifely, the institution if you will, until he's here all day or all weekend, the way he is today.
He's really struggling. He has a lot of pain still from the surgery and is back on meds. I have to distribute them to him. He has slept all week. I don't think he's been still more than an hour at a time. The pain pills and the Ambien have a reverse effect on him. The dip stimulates him even more. The donuts. He hasn't had much caffeine in a few days, thankfully.
If we could get him on the oxygen and his shoulder healed, it seems like he'd be so different. He claims he'll change his habits then. Good nights of sleep alone should change everything, for us both actually: physically, mentally, and sexually. He's distraught that our intimacy is almost nonexistent. He wasn't happy when I took one for the team last night. He says he wants me to want to. For that, I'm glad. It's hard after a night like Saturday, when he tells old stories of his antics and everyone just laughs.
With everything stepped back, I've had time to entertain a "tonight" mentality. From the time I wake up, I ought to be preparing for the evening, for his return, to be pleasing to him.
I want to share that with other women. I'm glad to have been reoriented away from teachers/preachers who are involved in contemplative prayer. I'm glad to get understanding about the NAR movement and the Emergent one. No one seems to be able to commit to the study right now. That is probably good since I need to get centered.
I was hit with another old temptation this week, procrastination. Unreality, no man's land. As though today can wait. What a fine line between living by works and living by faith.
Right now: sleeping, reading, cleaning, and cooking (and moderate eating), of course. Sleeping is almost impossible. Night before last I was woken up no less than 12 times between him, the kids, the dogs, and the phone. Instead of retaliating, I'm just sleeping in instead of freaking out over a schedule. I'm not drinking caffeine and I'm not energy eating.
I was able the other night to see myself as a vessel, my body separate and submitted to my spirit. How I've abused it. The kids keep saying I look and sound sad. I'd say broken, but broken and submitted go well together. I'm willing to be bent however I need to be. My heart is more toward home than I remember it to be in a long time. It's not trying secretly to flee or consider options, if only in imaginations, unwarranted even.
I want to the kids to have something to excite them out of bed, like a skill to perfect or task to complete or friends to consider.
What I do like is that Macklynn is 12 and full of affection, and obedience and humor, for the most part. Pulling him away from his games is hard, but I must tantalize him and her from her videos, creative as they may be. I'm also asking God that the push mower work for him, that a boat be had, that he gets access to a lab and new camps. I'm asking about everything from now on. I'm sorry that I've done so many things out of tradition.
Countenance. Modesty. Stewardship.
Sunday afternoon, March 19th.
Melody has been throwing up all morning. Mike woke me up several times again last night, once all but demanding sex. I had some coffee this morning, just to make sure I'd get to church. 4 of us went. For the second time this month, I literally had just written something down during the sermon when he said the very same thing. I love that kind of confirmation.
I also wrote down that I should pray over Mike. I was thinking outloud, which is still hard for me to do with him, but when I got home he was sleeping. So, I stood over him and prayed for all that ails him and that he would put his defense and pleasure in trust of the Lord. He woke up while ago and when I asked if he needed anything, he was short with me, hateful. I had said earlier that he had taken Benadryl to sleep, because I found it in the floor. But apparently, I was wrong and I said as much. I told him I had prayed over him and that I hope we'll get back to a physical relationship, that it was hard after he determined to leave me here on a trip to Greensboro I was to accompany him on. All he did Friday morning was kick the bed, demand his pills and leave.
And as nice as it was to take McKala and Timothy to go see Michael's spring game, Mike was wound pretty tight and was downright mean a few times. I know the pain puts him even more on edge, but day after day with him wears on me. Just a few minutes ago, he told me he was leaving again, trying not to sound threatening, that it would just be better for everybody, but that he was just going to pay me $1,000 a month. He always puts me on a leash. I didn't get defensive. I didn't try to reason. I didn't whine. I just cried big tears that we're back to this. The only good thing is that his abrasiveness polishes me as (the daughters, polished stones). I have to stop trying to save myself. Matthew 16:24. Luke 4:18.
I've been determined not to think on the pities of people for my comfort, especially those of men. No man is my help, only the Lord. Anything else is covetous, leading to unrest, discontent, unthankfulness, and a disconnect that steals my peace and purpose.
I was even especially careful eating yesterday during the pressure. He knows I don't like to eat there, but I didn't let on at all, and got a low carb burger from Hardee's. Then on the way home, I got a taco salad, barely ate the shell, and ate chip crumbs with salsa.
This morning, however, I saw that part of a quesadilla was left in the frig and ate it. Then, I found our Melody was nauseous. All I can do is wait and see now.
I can only hope he's going back to work tomorrow and that I will continue in the calm serenity that I have claimed and that has carried me. I have remorse that I have finished my second reading of Psalms. Near the end, it says that the Lord will "beautify the meek with salvation." I love that. Meekness has alluded? me so long. I'm loud, independent, and tough, even when I don't mean to be. I hope I'm coming to end of that me and to the beginning of a meek me.
Another good thing is that my face is much clearer since I've been exfoliating with a wash cloth. I'm not so ashamed to go in public or to divert attention to other things.
Food AND sex. Two things I can't just up and quit doing. I wish I could relegate sex to a simple physical need of release. Maybe I'm supposed to. Maybe I'm not supposed to expect that the spirit be intertwined in it. I've wanted that for so long that I don't know exactly how to disconnect the two. Like I told him while ago, "I'm a person." I wish I were more, but I'm not.
Evening.
I'm thankful the sun was shining brightly today and that I had the porch as a retreat. I played the song, "Even If." I heard it for the first time yesterday in the car. McKala sang every word, which made my heart smile. Because that means she has been listening voluntarily to Christian music, without reminders from Mama.
While I sat out there, I thought how good it is just to have the elements. We used to have immediate access to them. Now, it just takes some forethought. There is a state park 4 mile and a lake 8 miles from here. I hope that it is noble to want to appreciate and discover God's creation with my children, while praying to find lost or struggling souls along the way. Isn't that what Jesus did? He lived with his disciples and spent the days with them teaching and ministering not only to them but to the ones by the wayside. Is there any better way to teach my children than the way Jesus taught his disciples and led by example, together?
(2017)
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