It is February 7th and most of the country is having considerably mild weather. We, for instance, today was t-shirt weather, like so many other days this week. It is odd; it may be striking the farmers with fear of a harsh Spring; it is confusing the birds into staying, and being caught in small snow showers. I have heard talk of El Nino, or La Nina, global warming, the list is endless. But one thing that is striking to me about this odd weather is that people don't seem to mind. I don't see people wearing their snow suits and mittens. I don't see them building "snow" men out of mud on the side walk. I don't see anyone packing up to move to Canada to catch some winter weather. It seems like everyone (at least here in Southeast Missouri) is embracing this unseasonable weather. Kids are outside on their bikes, wearing jeans and t-shirts. Parks are full of families playing, Happy Meals on the nearest picnic table. No one is too upset about the sweaters staying in the closet.
So here I am, trying to embrace this season of my life. Not the warm weather, cool nights, flip-flops and sunglasses season. I am ready to embrace this season of my life. It seems that every season has a purpose, every chapter of my life thus far has had a clear intro, body, and conclusion--fantastic images, similes here and there, quotations from the best books and wise souls who've helped shape me. This one has been kind of like 60 degree weather in February. When I want to stay home with my children I am working. When I want to wake up early to run, I am too tired. When I finally have a passion for community and church service, I don't have time. When I want a(nother) baby, I can't have one, or keep one. It seems like the trick to making this season mine, is to do just that. I am ready to wear shorts on the warm days. I am ready for this season of life to be mine (and my husband's and my two wonderful sons'). We deserve to enjoy this little life we have been blessed with.
Since I am working, and will be working for the time being, I should do a truly awesome job. Not only should I do a truly awesome job at work, but also at home, where it matters a little more. Since I am tired in the mornings, maybe I should go to bed earlier, or maybe run later in the day. If I am passionate for church or community work, I should watch less TV, or pick things that can fit perfectly into my life--because after all, it is mine. No one has told me what to do with it. The weather has changed, but I have a wardrobe full of possibilities.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Rereading Dreamland
For awhile now I've been trying to finish writing a ya novel that I started years ago. It is a problem novel about an abusive teen relationship. I've had problems getting into, so I decided to re-read my favorite Sarah Dessen book, Dreamland, which is also about an abusive teen relationship. When I was in high school and read it, it made me feel happy, that anyone else in the world could read it and possibly know all my secrets, without really knowing they were mine.
Well, I finished reading it last night, and was not ready for what I felt. As it turns out, I am much happier forgetting what it was like back then. In the book, Caitlyn, who tries everything to be something different than anyone expects, ends up in the arms of a "bad boy" who deals drugs and beats her up. Now, I didn't get beat up. I didn't even get hit, really, at least until much later--when it was much too late to make any real changes. But things that happened to Caitlyn hit way too close to home, and I don't know why I was so surprised at how I felt when reading them.
For instance, rushing through a crowd, maybe school, to get to him before he had to wait a minute. Never going anywhere, afraid he would come, and wait, growing angry, and then find me. Shutting out all the friends that would let me, knowing if they got close they would know something was wrong, and then when that one friend finally wouldn't take no for an answer and "kidnapped" me, the fear, the constant dialing, wishing he would pick up. Then after I sat crying on her living room floor as time ticked away, his exhaust rumbled in the driveway. He always found me. And once again, I let him drag me away from a life I missed desperately.
I remember, like Caitlyn, being terrified of other men talking to me--at church, school, on the phone, even wrong numbers. How class was the safest place I could be. He would never find me in class, never interested enough to figure out my schedule or the buildings on the big college campus. Maybe that's why I did so well in school, knowing that as long as I was in college, I'd have those classrooms with the thick wooden doors that he'd never open to find me.
I remember when guys from my classes would see me at the gas station or grocery store. Even if it was just a "Hi, this must be your husband", that was enough to make me dread the long walk across the parking lot to our car, he refusing to hold my hand, jaw set, cursing under his breath. Then when the doors closed would lay into me "So, what have you told people about me?...How many times have you f*cked that guy?...I wish I knew what kind of (insert the worse female curse) you'd turn out to be before I married you." Usually that was enough. He liked to just make me feel small, and helpless. Other times he would throw things, big or small, leaving bruises that he said were accidents because I "should've gotten out of the way" and they were my fault anyway, because I made him do those things.
The worst part of reading Dreamland was remembering the fierce protection I had for him over myself. Wanting to hide his flaws, hoping no one would see, praying that everyone could still believe I was some semblance of what I was before. Even after we finally split up, I missed him the way Caitlyn missed Rogerson, and had to go to a "shrink" to put me back together.
Obviously I don't miss him now, or that life, but I am having trouble deciding if reading the book again was a good or bad idea. I probably won't read it again, ever. I really hope young girls don't pick it up and have the feelings I did while reading it. Even though I do know there are young girls out there that have fallen in love with that "bad boy", and that learn the wrong ways to love before they even learn what love should be. Mostly, it makes me really sad, and I'm glad that someone thought to write a book about it. It's all well and good to read a love story and fantasize about what life could be, but it's altogether different to read a love story that's your story and know that just maybe another person on the planet has gone through it.
Not sure what the point is I'm trying to make, other than the obvious--I needed to say all this. I don't think I have before. And there's still a lot I haven't ever said, but my story hasn't been told yet.
Well, I finished reading it last night, and was not ready for what I felt. As it turns out, I am much happier forgetting what it was like back then. In the book, Caitlyn, who tries everything to be something different than anyone expects, ends up in the arms of a "bad boy" who deals drugs and beats her up. Now, I didn't get beat up. I didn't even get hit, really, at least until much later--when it was much too late to make any real changes. But things that happened to Caitlyn hit way too close to home, and I don't know why I was so surprised at how I felt when reading them.
For instance, rushing through a crowd, maybe school, to get to him before he had to wait a minute. Never going anywhere, afraid he would come, and wait, growing angry, and then find me. Shutting out all the friends that would let me, knowing if they got close they would know something was wrong, and then when that one friend finally wouldn't take no for an answer and "kidnapped" me, the fear, the constant dialing, wishing he would pick up. Then after I sat crying on her living room floor as time ticked away, his exhaust rumbled in the driveway. He always found me. And once again, I let him drag me away from a life I missed desperately.
I remember, like Caitlyn, being terrified of other men talking to me--at church, school, on the phone, even wrong numbers. How class was the safest place I could be. He would never find me in class, never interested enough to figure out my schedule or the buildings on the big college campus. Maybe that's why I did so well in school, knowing that as long as I was in college, I'd have those classrooms with the thick wooden doors that he'd never open to find me.
I remember when guys from my classes would see me at the gas station or grocery store. Even if it was just a "Hi, this must be your husband", that was enough to make me dread the long walk across the parking lot to our car, he refusing to hold my hand, jaw set, cursing under his breath. Then when the doors closed would lay into me "So, what have you told people about me?...How many times have you f*cked that guy?...I wish I knew what kind of (insert the worse female curse) you'd turn out to be before I married you." Usually that was enough. He liked to just make me feel small, and helpless. Other times he would throw things, big or small, leaving bruises that he said were accidents because I "should've gotten out of the way" and they were my fault anyway, because I made him do those things.
The worst part of reading Dreamland was remembering the fierce protection I had for him over myself. Wanting to hide his flaws, hoping no one would see, praying that everyone could still believe I was some semblance of what I was before. Even after we finally split up, I missed him the way Caitlyn missed Rogerson, and had to go to a "shrink" to put me back together.
Obviously I don't miss him now, or that life, but I am having trouble deciding if reading the book again was a good or bad idea. I probably won't read it again, ever. I really hope young girls don't pick it up and have the feelings I did while reading it. Even though I do know there are young girls out there that have fallen in love with that "bad boy", and that learn the wrong ways to love before they even learn what love should be. Mostly, it makes me really sad, and I'm glad that someone thought to write a book about it. It's all well and good to read a love story and fantasize about what life could be, but it's altogether different to read a love story that's your story and know that just maybe another person on the planet has gone through it.
Not sure what the point is I'm trying to make, other than the obvious--I needed to say all this. I don't think I have before. And there's still a lot I haven't ever said, but my story hasn't been told yet.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Light Bulb
I am a woman. By nature I am a feelings-oriented person. That does not mean I am only feelings-oriented, or that my feelings outweigh my logic or common-sense. It only means that I have emotions--they run deep and they are sometimes strong. My past plays a large role in my emotions. It shouldn't, but it does.
Right now my emotions are getting me into trouble. My husband, who is amazing and wants to only do right by me and our boys, who wants to take his place as the head of our household--the King of Our Castle. I am having trouble with this because I'm a woman. I'm sorry to have to play the gender card, but that is my problem.
Female.
Woman.
Girl.
Lady.
Wife.
Mom.
I'm not sure men quite understand how much weight comes with the title of "woman", how much pressure can come with the job. Sorry, jobs.
First there are the two first and most important jobs--those created for woman, those woman were created for. God created woman to be a companion, a help meet, to her husband. He also created her to "be fruitful and multiply". Yes, that job was given to both man and woman, but without the woman, it would be impossible. God had a plan and it started with creating a partnership that put man at the top. Perfect world, yes?
No.
Then Satan happened, the serpent, the fruit, Eve partaking of the forbidden fruit, sharing with Adam, and finally getting hurled out of the garden (figuratively speaking).
Perfect world, gone.
Then began the punishment--Eve would have painful childbirth (which many of us have experienced), and not only would remain the lesser equal in the partnership of marriage, but would seek to be like her husband. Eve would forever be under the rule, care, and protection of her partner, yet always seeking more, wanting more. Thank you, Eve.
I am now stuck in this nightmare called "leaving Eden" and I feel like I am constantly restarting my journey into being the kind of wife that I picture Eve was, walking hand-in-hand with Adam, eyes downcast, whispering her apologies in between tearful kisses, holding the hands of small children.
I want to be someone my husband is proud of
Right now my emotions are getting me into trouble. My husband, who is amazing and wants to only do right by me and our boys, who wants to take his place as the head of our household--the King of Our Castle. I am having trouble with this because I'm a woman. I'm sorry to have to play the gender card, but that is my problem.
Female.
Woman.
Girl.
Lady.
Wife.
Mom.
I'm not sure men quite understand how much weight comes with the title of "woman", how much pressure can come with the job. Sorry, jobs.
First there are the two first and most important jobs--those created for woman, those woman were created for. God created woman to be a companion, a help meet, to her husband. He also created her to "be fruitful and multiply". Yes, that job was given to both man and woman, but without the woman, it would be impossible. God had a plan and it started with creating a partnership that put man at the top. Perfect world, yes?
No.
Then Satan happened, the serpent, the fruit, Eve partaking of the forbidden fruit, sharing with Adam, and finally getting hurled out of the garden (figuratively speaking).
Perfect world, gone.
Then began the punishment--Eve would have painful childbirth (which many of us have experienced), and not only would remain the lesser equal in the partnership of marriage, but would seek to be like her husband. Eve would forever be under the rule, care, and protection of her partner, yet always seeking more, wanting more. Thank you, Eve.
I am now stuck in this nightmare called "leaving Eden" and I feel like I am constantly restarting my journey into being the kind of wife that I picture Eve was, walking hand-in-hand with Adam, eyes downcast, whispering her apologies in between tearful kisses, holding the hands of small children.
I want to be someone my husband is proud of
Sunday, January 15, 2012
It Is Amazing What Can Happen...
When I put the laptop DOWN, turn the television OFF, and utlize my Pandora Iphone app instead of Facebook. I feel very accomplished this evening. I have needed to get SOMETHING done in this house.
This is my awesome living room NOW:
This is my awesome living room NOW:
This is BEFORE:
And now to relax. My back hurts!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
7 Days In
7 days into the fast, and I am down 4 pounds.
I am sick, very sick--my body's way of cleaning out all the junk I've been eating for the past 25 years.
I am glad to have a day off today, but haven't gotten much cleaning done...or relaxing.
I have writer's block today, so maybe I'll try again in a few.
I am sick, very sick--my body's way of cleaning out all the junk I've been eating for the past 25 years.
I am glad to have a day off today, but haven't gotten much cleaning done...or relaxing.
I have writer's block today, so maybe I'll try again in a few.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Today's the day
Today must be the day during the fast that I completely lose it. This feeling of doom and brokenness caught me by surprise, I must say. I have been feeling really good about the fast, about our devotions we've been having together, about our prayers, and life in general. I should have known that that was too easy...
So when we were at the sunset service this evening, and everyone else was sharing stories about how they've been blessed this week, all I could share was that we are struggling. I have to admit, I don't know where God is going with this. I can't make sense of making us struggle like this. I mean, we struggled as kids, so I guess I don't see why it's fair for God to make us struggle while trying to provide for our kids. I have been crying and feeling sorry for myself all this evening--even yelling at my husband about how his mom should have taught him better in home schooling, or made him go to public school. I yelled about how God knew that he could have had better now, had she done better as a mom then. It's never going to do any good yelling about things of the past though, is it?
I have calmed down slightly, and we have prayed and given this all to God. This is probably not the end of our struggles, nor is it the end of my disappointments, but it will be the end of my worries. I don't have to worry about this life, because I have a home in the next, right?
I pray that I can stick with this. I pray I am as strong that God thinks I am.
So when we were at the sunset service this evening, and everyone else was sharing stories about how they've been blessed this week, all I could share was that we are struggling. I have to admit, I don't know where God is going with this. I can't make sense of making us struggle like this. I mean, we struggled as kids, so I guess I don't see why it's fair for God to make us struggle while trying to provide for our kids. I have been crying and feeling sorry for myself all this evening--even yelling at my husband about how his mom should have taught him better in home schooling, or made him go to public school. I yelled about how God knew that he could have had better now, had she done better as a mom then. It's never going to do any good yelling about things of the past though, is it?
I have calmed down slightly, and we have prayed and given this all to God. This is probably not the end of our struggles, nor is it the end of my disappointments, but it will be the end of my worries. I don't have to worry about this life, because I have a home in the next, right?
I pray that I can stick with this. I pray I am as strong that God thinks I am.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
DAY FOUR
Today is day 4 of our 21 day fast at Peace Point Chapel and I am feeling really good about what's to come. My prayer is to know my place in my family and this world. I want to be able to stay home with my boys, as a mother should, and take care of my home and my husband, as a wife should. I want to spend my time teaching my kids how to be strong young men, how to treat a lady, how to love, and learn. What I want and what God wants for me may not be exactly the same. That's what my journey is about. I am taking this 21 days to open my eyes to what God has in store for me. I will keep the updates coming.
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