free time

For the past four months my time has been consumed by studying. I would have mere moments of distractions (I exaggerate) to keep myself sane. But now? Now I'm having trouble deciding what I want to do with all this free time.

There's all kinds of housework to do, but I'm feeling a little lazy about that. Sort of the way it felt getting home from school and having my Mom rattle off a bunch of chores to finish befor dinner. (I don't really recall that ever happening, but you know what I mean.) And, hey, now I'm the Mom (with no kids at home), so I don't have to do it right now if I don't want to.

Last week I bought some plants and flowers for my garden. Gardening is something I'm really interested doing. Unfortunately, it's been raining so much I haven't been able to actually put them in the ground. They're just sitting out there in the pots, in the place where I want to plant them. So that's on hold until it dries out a little.

Then there's the books. I have started reading three, yes three, books. At the same time. Two are on faith or the search of it (Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott and In Search of God Knows What by Donald Miller) and The 5000 Year Leap: . . . by . . . . .The first two are easy reads and entertainng, with just a little extra for deep thought. The other is a little too much like a textbook and I've just about decided to read it at the end of the summer; just before I take American Federal Government in the fall.

But I am looking forward to our vacation in a couple of weeks. I started a crash diet and I'm exercising just short of killing myself to get in shape. Because, you know, that was put on hold for the last four months also. So now I'm trying to cram as much exercise as I can in the next eleven days. Crazy, I know.

living in community

"I didn't know what to think about the idea of living in community at first. I had lived on my own for about six years, and the idea of moving in with a bunch of slobs didn't appeal to me. Living in community sounded so, um, odd. Cults do that sort of thing, you know. First you live in community, and then you drink punch and die."
[excerpt from Blue Like Jazz, by Don Miller]

I've just recently considered the concept of living in community. You can live in a community and never live in community. I've realized this idea is probably something that would be best learned while growing up and, perhaps, there are people who have lived in community all their lives and don't know anything else. But this is very new to me.

In my mind, living in community is needing and doing thing for others. What I learned, by example, was that if I needed someone's help I was weak. If I needed someone's help I was a failure. So to be a strong successful person I had to be independent. I didn't need anyone. To some extent this was good. But it isolated me from people. I didn't feel strong and successful, so I would keep to myself. I didn't want people to think I wasn't capable of taking care of myself, so I'd never ask for help. This eventually led people to think of me as a snob. I just got the impression people didn't like me, because I wasn't whatever they were (pretty, smart, thin, married, etc.) so I isolated myself even more.

I'd say within the past 15 years I've been able to overcome most of those insecurities. But even so, really living in community is a concept that is difficult for my mind to grasp and my person to experience. I think I am still too wrapped up with myself to be free enough to really be there for others the way I think I should be. The way I think defines "living in community."

humor for the pain

Note: I pulled this from the archives. Thanksgiving is a really difficult time for me and rather than post a completely new rendition of the same old thing, I decided to cheat. And just so you know, I'm taking this book with me to work so I can have a few laughs before the big day.

Have you ever been told some news that was so shocking, it felt as though someone knocked you upside the head with a skillet? That's how my life has been for several years now. Seems like every time I turn around there's another person standing in front of me with a skillet in their hands. It's enough to make a person hide under the bed and never answer the door.

The news -- your son is gay, your mom has cancer, your child tried to kill themself, and "Mom, I'm dropping out of school," -- is devasting and inconceivable. Daily life became surreal as I would make the bed, feed the dog, buy the groceries. My body was on autopilot. The scars can't be seen by others, but the ringing in my ears gets so loud others must be able to hear it!

But in the midst of it all there are small blessings of laughter. My dear friend gave me a book titled I'm So Glad You Told Me What I Didn't Wanna Hear, by Barbara Johnson. It is full of little morsels that melt the lump in my throat. I read it a couple of years ago and, now that my son has moved back home (Edit: He moved out almost two years ago and I haven't seen or heard from him since. I call him once a week and leave a message on his voice mail just to tell him I love him.), I am reading it again.

Here are some of my favorites:

~I need some of my problems to help take my mind off some of the others.

~Blessed are they who clip coupons, for they shall be redeemed.

~Sometimes my mind is so uncomfortable, I wish I could go somewhere and take it off.

~It is bad to suppress laughter. It goes back down and spreads to your hips.

~We probably wouldn't worry about what people think of us if we could know how seldom they do.

~Remember, every cloud has a silver lining . . . and sometimes a bolt of lightning.

~Time wounds all heels.

~The more you complain, the longer God lets you live

~One way to handle stress: Lie on your back to eat celery, using your navel as a salt dipper.

~Just when I nearly had the answer, I forgot the question.

~If you have the same problems I have . . . please seek help immediately!

~Most people have minds like concrete: mixed up or permanently set.

~Break out dancing every now and then . . . it'll help pass the time until they come to take you away.

~Do NOT come in out of the rain.

Hope these have brought a little laughter to your day.

blue like jazz

Maybe you've noticed the Library Thing over there in the margin. Well, there's one book I've read recently that I would like to recommend (particularly to FTN & Desmond): Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality. The title sums it up nicely.

Talk about church and religion around the neighborhood (sorry, I'm not going to include any links) has been so very, um, heavy that I thought maybe we should lighten up a bit. Blue Like Jazz is a wonderfully refreshing compilation of essays of one man's spiritual journey. Here's a little excerpt:

There is something quite beautiful about the Grand Canyon. There is something beautiful about a billion stars held steady by a God who knows what He is doing. They hang there, like stars, like notes on a page of music, free-form verse, silent mysteries swirling in the blue like jazz. And as I lay there, it occurred to me that God is up there somewhere. Of course, I had always known He was, but this time I felt it, I realized it, the way a person realizes they are hungry or thirsty.

What I liked most about this book is that it made me think about my own relationship with God without making my brain hurt. It revealed things that I need to work on in my own life without making me feel unworthy of love. It reminded me that Jesus is a personal friend of mine.

Let me know if you read it.

five love languages

(Ok, this is the last serious post this week, I promise!)

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

My primary love languages:

Acts of Service:		8
Quality Time:		8
Words of Affirmation:		7
Physical Touch:		4
Receiving Gifts:		3

Take the love language quiz

"Love conquers all things except poverty and toothache."
~~Mae West

fashion police -- designers

Ok, I realize I started a trend with the weekly fashion police by having a photo of some obscure person wearing something about which I felt I could possibly make a comment. But since this is my blog (and because, honestly, I haven't been able to discreetly take any pictures --haven't been feeling too Jane Bond lately) I figure I can change it up any way I want. *insert appropiate z-snap*

So, this past week I read, yes I said read The Devil Wears Prada. A cute story about a girl working her way up, paying her dues to maybe someday write for a newspaper with substance instead of a fashion magazine mostly filled with fluff.

But you know what I realized while reading this book? I don't have a clue what most of it was talking about. I mean, I couldn't tell you the difference between Prada and Chanel. Designer names were thrown around all through the book, but they were completely wasted on me. Who the heck is Jimmy Choo? (Apparently they're expensive to-die-for shoes and maybe something else but I wouldn't know.) At one point there was a reference made toTarget brand Mossimo jeans, but it was far from complimentary and, actullay, I felt a little embarrassed since I had just purchased a pair for myself.

I hate designer anything! I was in high school when all that crap first started and, for one, didn't see what all the fuss was about. All I know is what looks good. And if you can get it at a decent price (say under $20) then even better. And, believe it or not, I hate shopping. So if I need, say, a new pair of black pants, then I go and find the best fit at the best price and I'm done. I just don't think there's any sense in getting all googly-eyed over a piece of clothing that costs way too much and was designed by someone I don't even know. Who cares?!

So wear your Mossimos and Faded Glories and wear them with pride knowing you probably saved enough money to take a family of four out to dinner for a month. Just make sure your clothes fit well and don't forget to check the rear view.

hiding=prison

Several years ago I worked through a study (Shelter From the Storm) on sexual abuse with a friend. One of the most interesting things I learned from that study was how the abused protect the abuser by their own silence. Out of fear of losing their sense of security, out of fear of shame or out of fear of many other things the abused will hide what is really going on. What they cannot see is that staying silent, remaining hidden becomes their prison.

I have found this to be true even when there is no abuse at all. In my own life I have recognized myself hiding from people for all sorts of reasons. I have hidden for fear of rejection. Believing that if anyone really knew me they wouldn't like me and I couldn't take that rejection. The result was that most people thought I was a snob and I didn't have many friends.

There was a time I thought I could do everything myself. If a problem would arise I could handle it myself. Anything that needed to be done I didn't need any help. I didn't need anyone. The result? I felt overwhelmed and alone.

Even my own mind has, at times, become a prison. I will dwell on an issue. I will examine it, dissect it, analyze it, and completely diassemble and reassemble it. I will spend countless number of hours and sleepless nights trying to resolve it. Not until I talk to someone and release my thoughts into their hearing will I find freedom from the prison in my mind.

And the reasons for hiding in these ways is the same as for those who have been abused: fear of loss of security, shame, guilt. But once the silence is broken (being myself around others, asking for and accepting help when I need it, talking with my husband or a friend about issues that concern me) then I am released from that lonely self-made prison.

body clock

There's a new book out that tells when is the best time to do just about anything. The Body Clock Guide to Better Health can help with the best time to clean house (4 pm), take a nap (1 or 2 pm), and even when is the best time to exercise (5 or 6 pm). Funny, I've just always done these things when I felt like it and if I didn't feel like it I'd wait until I did.

But don't expect this book to be a light and breezy read. It's described as "an exhaustive guide to the merits of chronotherapy, which synchronizes healthcare with the patient's internal clock." Oh my!

not so much afraid

. . . though she went with Sorrow and Suffering day after day along the shores of the great sea of Loneliness, she did not go cringingly or complainingly. Indeed, gradually an impossible thing seemed to be happening. A new kind of joy was springing up in her heart, and she began to find herself noticing beauties in the landscape of which until then she had been quite unconscious.

From Hinds Feet on High Places
by Hannah Hurnard

yada yada yada

I just finished the Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Real, by Neta Jackson. It's the third book in a series of . . . well, who knows! There's two more after this one and I'm not sure if there'll be more or not. But I do know I'll be reading them all.

The Yada Yada Prayer Group is made up of a mix of twelve women who met at a womens conference. The stories are told by the "good Christian" in the group, Jodi Baxter. But through her new friends, and God's grace, Jodi realizes she's got a lot more growing up to do.

Though each book can stand alone, I would recommend reading them from the first. They're very easy to read and, believe it or not, quite addictive. Most of the time I couldn't put them down because I had to find out what happened next. Even with work and everything else I still finished this one in five days.

domestic goddess

I'd like you to meet one of my favorite authors, Nigella Lawson. Never heard of her? She is the author of such cookbook classics as How To Be A Domestic Goddess, Nigella Bites, Forever Summer, and Feast: Food To Celebrate Life.

The first I heard of Nigella was on the program Nigella Bites on the E! channel. I quickly fell in love with her easy-going style, her simple cooking methods, and of course her accent. She's just fun to listen to.

Her books are unlike any cookbook I've ever seen. She doesn't merely have an index of recipes and instructions. Her books can be read in the kitchen or in bed. She's quite entertaining. Here's an excerpt from Forever Summer:

Summer food, even when eaten in deepest winter, contains within it the idea of simple cooking. But the best recipes are never blueprints, only ideas hungrily mooted. The ones in this book have come to me the way they always do, plundered from friends, from family, grown out of an idea of what might go with what. As the Australian food writer Maggie Beer has written, “cooking is all about osmosis – a mental note made about a flavour combination or a technique, a memory of a dish”. Cooking is not just about applying heat, procedure, method, but about transformation of a more intimate kind; none of us cooks without bringing our own character to bear on the food in front of us. Just as the recipes that follow have been toyed with, changed, fiddled with to become my food, so I expect them to be remodelled in your own kitchen . . . Life has its difficulties, why add to them in the kitchen? And for all that my title archly conjures up that starlet’s gushing hope – from the premiere scene in Singing in the Rain – that “if I’ve brought a little cheer into your humdrum little lives, it ain't all been in vain for nothin’”, it is not because I believe there is nothing but endless, unclouded blue sky in Nigellaland, but because I still believe that the kitchen is not a place you escape from, but the place you escape to.

So, if you're into cooking at all I highly recommend her books or, at least, catching her show. For me, she not only made cooking interesting, but fun. Oh, and I can't wait to read the newest: Nigella Lawson: A Biography.

book in progress

Today I started writing a book. Yes, writing. I've written two others, though I've never even tried to get them published. I get these ideas for children's stories and I just have to write them down. But, sad to say, I'm not as diligent about seeing them published. Maybe someday.

real sex

The latest book I've been reading is Real Sex: The Naked Truth About Chastity, by Lauren F. Winner. The first few chapters are foundational and a little difficult to get through, but well worth it. The main thing this book relates, I think, is that 1) sex has become so common place in society (tv, movies, magazines, talk shows) that there's really no sacredness to it; 2) Sex is thought of as none of anyone else's business but the individuals; and 3) Sex is really about community and our accountability to each other, single or married. It's not enough to tell teenagers or twenty-somethings that they're worth the wait until they get married to have sex. It's about being chaste before and after they are married.

This is one of those books that I'll have to read again to really study it. Something inside me wants to use it to structure a Bible study for young adults, though I haven't taught in about 5 years (a subject for another blog). But the other part of me thinks, "How can you teach a Bible study on something that you've struggled with all of your life?" Hmmmmm. Maybe that's what makes me such an expert on the subject.

surprised by joy

Ok, I'm almost a little embarrassed to admit I've never read any of C. S. Lewis' books. I felt a sort of pride when I came across his autobiography of his younger days, Surprised By Joy. I was encouraged by the title and intriqued by what I might learn from this Christian man who I mostly knew from children's books (of course I had only seen these stories played out on public television). So you can imagine my complete disappointment and confusion when I (nearly) threw the book down and exclaimed, "ENOUGH!"

How could a book titled Surprised By Joy leave one feeling so depressed? I felt betrayed. I don't think there was one part that seemed joyful. At one point I found myself reading merely to try to determine what in the world this man was talking about.

Maybe I should have started with something else and worked my way back to his autobiography. Someone would have to highly recommend it, though, because I doubt I would be inclined to ever pick up one of his books again.

reading, reading, reading

Over the past few months I've read more books than I have probably read in my entire life! Hard to believe, but true. I guess it's because I've never really made the investment in the time it takes to read a book. Always consumed with domestic chores, errands, and children I figured, "who has time to read." (Although I have spent a lot of time reading and studying the Bible.)

Anyway, about a year or so ago I decided I was going to read Girl With A Pearl Earring, by Tracy Chevalier. I finally read it last month. In the past year I've read Frank Perriti's Monster, This Present Darkness, Piercing The Darkness; Yada Yada Prayer Group and Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Down, by Neta Jackson; and Girl Meets God: Memoir, by Lauren F. Winner. All of which I loved and am thoroughly pleased with the time invested reading them.

Maybe it's because I'm getting older (it's not because I have more time on my hands), but I can't remember enjoying reading sooooooo much. I guess I could analyze it to death (an escape, procrastinating on something else, etc.) but when it comes right down to it, I'm just pampering myself with a little "me" time. And that's a very good thing!