death of a season

I had a talk with the man in the moon.
He said the winds would be changing soon.
I asked him why it must be this way
He said, "Be patient and you'll find out someday.
The seasons change and with it comes
Other changes under the sun.
Some things die and others are born.
Some are mended, some are torn.
Once there was war, now there is peace.
What was silent now can speak.
What was thrown out, now you'll keep.
What made you laugh makes you weep.
What has been killed will now heal.
The love you had is now hate you feel.
You've planted seeds and built a wall,
Now uproot the weeds and let it fall,
For the griefs you've embraced and the wounds you've held close
Now turn to dancing as your stone heart lets go."
Then the man in the moon said I must count the cost
If I am to keep searching or give it up for lost.


© PR: 02.06.02
From Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (NIV)

just a little rant

Yes, I'm giving advanced warning: This is a rant. But a rant with a happy ending. Well, maybe not happy, but at least there is a conclusion. I try hard not to rant through this medium, because this is a semi-anonymous blog and my friends and family read this. Even RL reads this from time to time. So I try to remain accountable for what I say -- you know, protect the innocent and all that. And now you've had fair warning and sufficient time to click over to some other blog to read a light-hearted account of ... whatever.

Some of you know I had surgery this week. A small procedure. Not a big deal. (I'm working on a post about that, by the way.) And though I am feeling great and only cringe slightly when I make sudden movements, the recovery process has been less than wonderful. There are certain things I expected during this recovery period that didn't happen and I feel let down. To be specific, I expected my family to do things for me that just didn't happen.

The surgery was Tuesday afternoon, so in the getting-my-house-in-order phase I did what I could to prepare for the days I wouldn't be capable of doing much of anything. Honestly, there were a lot more things I could've done, but just getting the laundry caught up and the dishes washed made me feel as though I were on top of things around here.

But here it is Friday, and as I walked into the kitchen this morning there was a foul (probably fowl) smell coming from the overflowing kitchen trash. Seriously! Why hasn't anyone taken it out? What are they waiting for? And as I went about making the morning coffee, stacking dishes and clearing a space for the coffee pot, I realized dirty dishes had been piling up since Tuesday morning.

I got mad. Infuriated. What are these people thinking?! If they had just had surgery or were sick or whatever and couldn't do things they normally do, I would pick up the slack. I would do whatever was necessary to make them feel comfortable and make sure they felt I was taking care of them. I would make sure they knew they didn't have to do anything and the only thing they had to be concerned with was feeling better.

Moments later, feeling all good about myself and how wonderful I would be as their care-giver, I realized I had fallen into an old habit: expecting people to be someone other than themselves. See, the more I thought about what I would do the more infuriated I became that they aren't like me. Not that I'm better than them, but that's what I was thinking. But I'm not better; I'm just different. I look at things differently. I do things differently. I behave differently. I am me and they are them (or something like that). And when I expect people to be themselves I won't be disappointed.

So now I'm going to clean the kitchen and take out the trash and feel good about having the ability and energy to accomplish something today . . . because that's how I am. :)

if only*

“There are those of us who are always about to live.
We are waiting until things change, until there is more time,
until we are less tired, until we get a promotion,
until we settle down, until, until, until. It always seems as if
there is some major event that must occur in our lives
before we begin living.”
George Sheehan

Why is it that we think our happiness depends on whether or not specific events take place in our lives or if we have certain things. Now, you might be better at this than I am, but I have a tendency to think I'll be happy "if only [insert any number of things that have not yet happened]," then I'd be happy.

When I was a teenager I thought I'd be happy if only I were old enough to move out of my parent's house. Then it was if only I were married, if only I had a baby, if only I had married someone else. After the divorce and I had been a single mom for a few years it changed to if only I was married again. It seemed I was never happy. Even after RL and I got married the if only's continued. If only we had a house, if only he didn't work nights, if only he'd go to church with me, if only . . . . I don't know how he stayed with me! I was never satisfied. There was always something that needed to take place before I could be happy.

I don't remember the specific event that took place or if it was just a combination of events, but I finally realized that happiness is a choice. It is being content with and grateful for life the way it is at any given moment. Sure, we plan, we save, we invest for the future. But we will never be happy living in the future. Happiness only comes by living in the moment and then only by finding something to be happy about. Because there's that nasty human tendency to only see what we don't have instead of being thankful, content, happy with what we do.

*Re-posted from November, 2007

inspiration

I'm inspired to write today. About what, I'm not sure. It may merely be a distraction from the essay I need to write about how the U.S. elects a president. It may be a caffeine high from too much coffee this morning and too little food. It may even be from a late night chat I had with a friend I reconnected with on Facebook. Regardless, I want to write.

Obviously, the last several posts may have seemed to be filler (phyller?), but I can assure you they were not. The past month I haven't been able to focus and the things that have filled my mind, screaming to be released, have not made their way out in the forms of my own words. The songs, the poems, the philosophies of others have come to my rescue as I've wandered around in my own brain searching for a complete thought.

Yesterday I analyzed all I've been feeling lately, all the emotions that I've experienced on the roller coaster ride that is my life at the moment. This is what I came up with (in no particular order): anxiety, fear, betrayal, confusion, dismay, hopelessness, anger, despair, disgust, loneliness, surprise, happiness, elation, patience, excitement, satisfaction, love.

Now, thinking about all of that, there's a lump in my throat. Does that ever happen to you? You know, that tight choking feeling you get in your throat because of some strong emotion. I've felt it at other times in my life, but it started happening more frequently after Mom died. Now it's back again with a vengeance! A daily occurrence -- a sorrow that wells up in my throat to the point that I'm not sure I can breathe. But I do. Breathe. Deep. And the lump begins to melt, though not completely.

If you've been reading my blog for any time at all, you must have already seen the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the manic and the depressed states that I live in at any given moment. I almost feel obligated to apologize for it, but I won't -- this is who I am. I'd like to hope that someday I will find that middle ground, that place of peace and contentment that rests between two palm trees in a hammock on a beach. But just remember, if you come here and read some silly idiotic little post I've written, know I'm having a good day. And when there is a post which seems to be quite cryptic, say a little prayer for me, because I'm probably lost somewhere in my mind trying to find a way out.

what i've learned so far

I am worthy of being loved.

It's okay just to say "thank you" when someone gives me a compliment.

Saying "no" doesn't make me a bad person.

Happiness is a choice.

People don't do things because of me. They do things because of who they are.

If I expect people to be themselves, I won't be disappointed.

Honesty really is the best policy. But be prepared to face the consequences.

People only do what they really want.

If people control me, it's because I let them.

Reality is only what I know at the moment.

Someone who really listens has more control than someone who is always talking.

The grass isn't greener on the other side.

People don't lie to protect your feelings. They lie to protect themselves.

Forgiving is a lot better way to live than being angry all the time.

Bitterness is a form of cancer.

I don't always have to figure it out or fix it.

Sometimes it's best not to say anything.

Life is much easier when we don't do things for which we must apologize.

i believe

Over the past few months I've thought a lot about my life, what I've learned, and where I'm headed. I've wanted to write about it, but for some reason I just couldn't find the words to express all I have been feeling. Then I found the following post on a friends' page (Thanks Betsy!).

I Believe...
That just because two people argue
doesn't mean they don't love each other.
And just because they don't argue
doesn't mean they do love each other.

I Believe...
That we don't have to change friends
if we understand that friends change.

I Believe....
That no matter how good a friend is,
they're going to hurt you
every once in a while and
you must forgive them for that.

I Believe...
That true friendship continues to grow,
even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love.

I Believe...
That you can do something in an instant
that will give you heartache for life.

I Believe....
That it's taken me a long time
to become the person I want to be.

I Believe...
That you should always leave loved ones with loving words.
It may be the last time you see them.

I Believe....
That you can keep going long after you think you can't.

I Believe....
That we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I Believe...
That either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I Believe...
That heroes are the people who do what has to be done,
when it needs to be done,
regardless of the consequences.

I Believe....
That money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I Believe....
That my best friend and I can do anything
or nothing and have the best time.

I Believe....
That sometimes the people you expect
to kick you when you're down
will be the ones to help you get back up.

I Believe...
That sometimes when I'm angry, I have the right to be angry,
But that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I Believe....
That maturity has more to do with
what types of experiences you've had,
and what you've learned from them,
and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

I Believe....
That it isn't always enough, to be forgiven by others.
Sometimes, you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I Believe...
That no matter how bad your heart is broken
the world doesn't stop for your grief.

I Believe.....
That our background and circumstances
may have influenced who we are,
but we are responsible for who we become.

I Believe...
That you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret.
It could change your life forever.

I Believe....
Two people can look at the exact same thing
and see something totally different.

I Believe...
That your life can be changed in a matter of hours
by people who don't even know you.

I Believe...
That even when you think you have no more to give,
when a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.

I Believe...
That credentials on the wall
do not make you a decent human being.

I Believe...
That the people you care about most in life
are taken from you too soon.

I Believe...
The happiest of people don't necessarily
have the best of everything --
they just make the most of everything they have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you can't be content with what you have received,
be thankful for what you have escaped.
-- Author Unknown

mothers like you

I've mentioned before that all my life I was told I looked like my Mom. And after Mom died I realized it was true -- I would even admit it. I've recently been told I am like my Mom, her actions and personality. But there have been other women in my life or women I've observed, who I would like to pattern myself after.

There's the young woman (probably in her twenties) who lives around the corner. She has three little boys. Sometimes when I drive past their house she'll be in the front yard playing catch when them. One time I drove by and they were planting flowers in the garden. It made me wish I had a second chance with my son; a do over of when I was a young single mom. But since that's impossible, I've just determined to be the best Mom I can be right now.

Then there's "The Lesser." That's what she calls herself, but she is so much more. She is the most beautiful person (inside and out) I have ever met in my life. She's the type of person that shows her inner beauty all the time. She is gentle and tender and loving and full of grace. She hugs with genuine feeling. I've watched "The Lesser" with others, how she gives each person undivided attention. How she always made me want to not be so self-absorbed and selfish and impatient.

There are many others, mothers like you, who I watch and I learn how to be a better Mom, a better woman, a better person. We're not all perfect, but there is always something we can learn from or teach one another. So, thank you. Thank you for being yourself and letting me see something I will strive to be along with myself.

Happy Mothers Day!

half more

Today is April 28th. Each year on April 28th something extraordinary happens. April 28th is my half birthday. What? What's a half birthday? Oh come on, you know! Your Half Birthday. The day you turn whatever years old and a half.

Remember when you were a kid and you couldn't wait for your birthday, Remember how you would be so excited about getting to the next year you'd say, "I'm 4 and a half!" Or, "I'm 10 and a half." It gave us something to look forward to. It gave us something to feel proud about. And then when it was our real birthday, we felt as though we had really accomplished something.

I want to feel young. I want to have something to look forward to. So, today I'm celebrating my half birthday. I figure it's all about perspective. Why dread turning another year older? Why burden myself with feelings of doom and gloom when I can celebrate another year? And I'm half way there! WooHoo!!

Cheers!!

blogging, bitching, and more

First let me apologize for the lack of substance on my blog lately. Most of you know I like to write, but it just hasn't been possible lately and I didn't want to completely abandon it all together. The good news is, after next weekend, studying will come to a hault until the Fall. Unless, of course, I take a summer course. Anyway....

A new friend (yes, aside from studying I've managed to make some new friends) sent me something that I just *had* to share with you all. I don't generally post emails people send me (did you read my apology up there?), but this was just too good. Ten years ago I wouldn't have understood the truth of it, but I've grown up a lot since then. Enjoy!

**************

When I stand up for myself and my beliefs, they call me a bitch.
 
When I stand up for those I love, they call me a bitch.
 
When I speak my mind, think my own thoughts or do things my own way, they call me a bitch.
 
Being a bitch means I won't compromise what's in my heart.
 
It means I live my life MY way. It means I won't allow anyone to step on me.

When I refuse to tolerate injustice and speak against it, I am defined as a bitch.
 
The same thing happens when I take time for myself instead of being everyone's maid, or when I act a little selfish.
 
It means I have the courage and strength to allow myself to be who I truly am and won't become anyone else's idea of what they think I 'should' be.
 
I am outspoken, opinionated and determined. I want what I want and there is nothing wrong with that!
 
So try to stomp on me, try to douse my inner flame, try to squash every ounce of beauty I hold within me. You won't succeed.
 
And if that makes me a bitch, so be it. I embrace the title and am proud to bear it.
 
Babe
In
Total
Control of
Herself
 
Beautiful
Intelligent
Talented
Charming
Hell of a Woman
 
Beautiful
Individual
That
Can
Handle anything

***************

When you put it that way, who wouldn't want to be called a bitch?!! LOL!!

the "new" kind of man

From time to time I've shared some things with my loyal following (all 12 of you) from our current culture. (Follow the label below to read other posts on culture.) Recently I came across a term I hadn't heard before (but has been around for at least five years) and, of course, I had to research it.

The term? Retrosexual. Now, at first, I thought it had to do with old-fashioned (not to be confused with boring) sex between a man and a woman. Turns out it is a term that refers to one who is a "real man" and proud of it. From the information I could find, the following is the Retrosexual Manifesto by Grau Magus (who apparently had a blog at one time called "Frizzen Sparks," but I was unable to find it.).

A Retrosexual man:

- no matter what the woman insists, PAYS FOR THE DATE.

- opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that only loosely fit that term, because they are biologically female.

- DEALS with IT. Be it a flat tire, break-in into your home, or a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.

- only eats red meat; he often kills it himself.

- doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long you live, but how well. If you're 90 years old and still reading, learning, growing and can manage a drink now and again, I salute you. If you are still having sex with your wife, you are a legend.

- does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an endcap (possibly two endcaps if you include shaving goods.)

- does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic or Abercrombie when he's 30 years old.

- should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if need be. This falls under the "Dealing with IT" portion of The Code.

- watches no TV show with "Queer" or "Queen" in the title.

- does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on national TV.

- should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for women. Some is inevitable, but major reinvention of yourself will only lead to you becoming a frou-frou, and in the long run, she ain't worth it.

- is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak tree chipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different city, favorite bird dog expiring, etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink because Daddy didn't pay you enough attention. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH IT, and, when you screwed up, he DEALT with you.

- will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to conceal himself from prey.

- knows how to tie a Windsor or half Windsor knot when wearing a tie -- and ONLY a Windsor style knot.

- should have at least one good wound that he can brag about.

- knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't hammer a nail, or drill a hole straight, practice in secret until you can -- or be rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.

- knows that owning a gun is not a sign that you are riddled with fear. Guns are TOOLS and are often essential to DEAL WITH IT. Plus, it's just plain fun to fire one off in the direction of those people or things that just need a little "wakin' up."

- Crying: There are very few reasons that a Retrosexual may cry, and none of them have to do with TV commercials, movies, or soap operas. Sports teams are sometimes a reason to cry, but the preferred method of release is swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a Retrosexual can cry include (but are not limited to) death of a loved one, death of a good bird dog, loss of a major body part, or loss of major body part on your Ford truck or Jeep.

- When a Retrosexual is on a crowded bus and or a commuter train, and a pregnant woman, heck, any woman gets on, that Retrosexual stands up and offers his seat to that woman, then looks around at the other so-called men still in their seats with a disgusted "you low-life" look on his face.

- A Retrosexual knows how to say the Pledge properly, and with the correct emphasis and pronunciation. He also knows the words to the Star Spangled Banner.

- will have hobbies and habits his wife and mother do not understand, but that are essential to his manliness, in that they offset the acceptable manliness decline he suffers when married, engaged or in a serious healthy relationship, e.g., hunting, fishing, boxing, shot putting, shooting, cigars, car maintenance, or occasional drink.

- knows how to sharpen his own knives and kitchen utensils.

- can drive in snow (heck, a blizzard) without sliding all over or driving under 20 mph, without anxiety, and without high-centering his vehicle in a snow bank.

- can chop down a tree and make it land where he wants. Wherever it lands is where he darned well wanted it to land. Except on his truck --that would happen only because of a "force of nature," and then the retrosexual man's options are to Cry, or to DEAL WITH IT, or do both.

- will give up his seat on a bus to not only any woman but any elderly person or person in military dress (except 2nd Lt's). NOTE: The person in military dress may turn down the offer but the Retrosexual man will ALWAYS make the offer to them and thank them for serving their country.

- doesn't need a contract -- a handshake is good enough. He will always stand by his word even if circumstances change or the other person deceived him.

- doesn't immediately look to sue someone when he does something stupid and hurts himself. We understand that sometimes in the process of doing things we get hurt and we just DEAL WITH IT!

never give up

You know when you're in a marathon and you're running along thinking, "Wow! I just might actually finish this race!" And then all of a sudden, BAM! You "hit the wall." No? I haven't run a marathon, but I have hit the wall.

Last Thursday, while I was studying (like I do anything else -- sheesh!), I came across a problem that I could not figure out. It was so extremely frustrating, because I knew it was something I should already know. But I kept reading these same two paragraphs and I might as well have been reading Chinese; it made absolutely no sense!

To make matters worse, I started crying. Really. Big drops of tears were streaming down my face right onto the pages of the book I was trying to read. I began to frantically wipe my eyes, my face, my book all the while hoping the guys wouldn't notice. Yep. I was at work. I finally composed myself and was able to talk to the two guys on my crew about my frustrations and later I talked to RL and it was unanimous: I needed a break from studying.

For the next four days I didn't crack a book. Everytime I even thought about one of the problems or the exam I would quickly dismiss it and think about something else. I was determined to give myself a break and, dang it, I deserved it!

Yesterday I started back with a little reading and a little review. This morning I was back at it with enthusiasm. Then out of nowhere, BAM! Another wall. "CRAP!!! This is driving me crazy!" And I began to wonder if all this stress is even worth it. You know, I'm not going to get a pay raise or anything like that if I pass the exam. It's not really going to make any difference one way or another. I began to question why I was even putting myself through all of this -- aside from the non-refundable $125 examination fee.

Here's the deal: If I told you all I had decided not to take the exam it really wouldn't be that big of a deal to you, but it would be completely humiliating to me. But if I take the exam and fail, well at least I can say I tried. Because, let's face it, if I don't pass there is no way I'm going to put myself through all of this for another 6 months and take the exam over. I know myself too well. When it's over, it's over.

When you train for your first marathon they tell you not to worry about you time, just finish. So that's what I'm doing. At this point I'm not too concerned whether I pass or fail, I just want to make it to the finish line.

resolution

resolution: noun; a measure of the sharpness of an image or of the fineness with which a device (as a video display, printer, or scanner) can produce or record such an image usually expressed as the total number or density of pixels in the image <a resolution of 1200 dots per inch>.

With today's technologically savvy society, there's probably few of you who don't know that photographs are, simply put, made up of a bunch of dots. You may have even experienced the dismay of opening a JPEG file and seeing some of the image has deteriorated, leaving small pin holes or odd coloring of the picture. I bring this up, because it's New Year's Eve and time for resolutions. I thought it might be interesting to consider them in a different way.

• In the Big Picture we each are just one dot. But without our own unique pigments, ideas, personality, etc. the image is not complete.

• Depending on the resolution, we could be a small dot or a big dot. We could represent a large portion of the image or a very tiny part. We each have a purpose.

• The resolution determines how sharp or grainy the image. Is it a fine and crisp image or just a lot of noise?

• What image do we represent? Is it a landscape or portrait? Is it realistic or abstract? Is it art or pornography?

When thinking about resolutions, there's a lot to consider.

more than breathing

People would ask, "How are you?" For a long time my response was, "I'm still breathing," and that was on my best days. Things had gotten so bad that was the most positive and honest response I could give. I didn't want to complain, and though I knew (most of the time) people didn't really want to know how I was doing, I couldn't bring myself to lie and say, "I'm fine." Ok, sometimes I would say that, but I always felt bad about it afterwards. It made me feel fake. It made me feel trapped in the misery, as though by saying those words locked the door on my personal prison. To admit that all was not lost, that, at least, I was breathing, left the door open and gave me some hope.

A few weeks ago I realized things are pretty good nowadays. It's far from perfect, but I am not feeling that hopelessness, the feeling that this is all there is and there's nothing I can do about it. I realized I've been doing more than just breathing and that's a really good feeling! What's even better is that I even recognized it. I mean, there wasn't some monumental thing that happened to brighten my hopes; it was a slow process -- a painfully slow process.

Everyday I would get out of bed (that is a very important start--crucial) and decidedly put one foot in front of the other and tried, tried very, very hard to remain positive. I would breathe. Often. Things happened that were completely out of my control and I would breathe. Things would happen that hurt me more deeply than I thought I would ever be able to survive and I would breathe. Take another step. Breathe.

Finally, breathing is not so much an effort. Taking the next step is still a little difficult, but my new motto is "no excuses." I've started looking at the different areas within myself that I've needed to work on and started taking steps to improve them. No excuses.

Today I am more than breathing. I am living.

friends (or a facebook commercial)

Yesterday I spent a lot of time on Facebook (it was a really slow day at work) searching for friends: people I knew in school, people from church, maybe even a couple of old boyfriends (like you've never done that!). One person I found (not an old boyfriend. Apparently they aren't on FB.) I clicked on their friends list and was surprised to read they "have no friends."

Now I don't really think this person has no friends. They may not have been on FB long and just haven't added any friends. But, still, it made me sad. It made me feel as though this person had a very lonely life or maybe they're one of those whose work makes them too busy.

My friends list, on the other hand, is growing. In the past 3 or 4 weeks I've been on FB I've added almost 40 friends. Some blogger friends too (*waving hand* Hi blogger friends). Now I know some on FB have over 300 friends. Whatever! Do you think you're fooling anyone? Are they really you're friends? Or did you just accept their friend request because you don't want to hurt anyone's feelings? Sure, I've got friends on my list who I haven't seen in over 20 years, but I would still consider them friends. And I don't accept just any friend request. I've ignored quite a few (sorry) who I had no clue who they were.

Accepting people as my friends is a very serious thing to me. (So serious I've devoted an entire blog post to it.) It's a really big deal to call someone my friend. Not because I'm a snob, but because I'm still kind of cautious who I let into my world -- even my virtual world.

There's quite a responsibility when you call someone your friend. Honestly, my timid insecure selfish self doesn't want that responsibility. My hermit self would rather just keep to herself and not ever go anywhere or talk to anyone. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to call a friend on the phone just to say hello. Can you imagine me having to keep up with 40 friends? It's exhausting just thinking about it!!

Luckily, FB makes that easy. It's one of the reasons I like it so much. The other reason is it helps me get out of the comfort of my hibernation. I feel as though I'm, in a very small way, part of these people's lives and can maintain a connection with them until I see them again.

The person who has no friends? I sent them a friend request.

I haven't heard back from them yet.

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."

it happened sooner than expected

My son was held back in the first grade. I didn't like it, but we (his teacher and I) decided it would be best if he "matured" a little before going on to second grade. Over the years I realized that when he was 16 most of those in his own class would be 14 and 15. It was then I made the decision that he would not be allowed to date until he was 17. I figured by then the girls he would be dating would at least be 16.

So when my daughter came along it was an automatic rule: no dating until 17. However, the reasoning was a little different. When she begged and pleaded with me to let so-and-so take her out on a date I would remind her that she had to be 17. I reasoned with her that I preferred she had at least a year's experience driving before she went out on a date alone with a guy.

Now my daughter is 19. The other day she was talking about how glad she was that she hadn't gone out with a bunch of different guys in high school and, though it had been really tough with all of her friends dating, she was glad I made her wait. She said, "You were right, Mom."

Wow! I was wasn't expecting that!

who am i?

That's been the question floating around in my brain for a couple of weeks now. This would be a seemingly easy question to answer, except that none of the answers I would naturally come up with really define who I am. And they didn't satisfy the person who asked me this question (Jeff).

The answer couldn't really come from me. I can't really answer the question, "Who am I," because I get all messed up with the stuff I think about myself, the stuff that I hate about myself, the stuff I hide about myself.

So I had to go to the only place I know that gives me the answers I need. God's Word. Because, let's face it, what do I care what anyone else thinks about me, even myself?! Who does God say I am? That's a lot more interesting question. And this is what He said:

I am His child.
I am created in His image.
I am His workmanship.
I am His beloved.
I am redeemed.
I am reconciled.
I am a new creation.
I am chosen.
I am sanctified.
I am free.
I am forgiven.
I am justified.
I am gifted.
I am here for a purpose.

And that's just off the top of my head, so I am sure there's more that He says about who I am. The difficult thing is keeping these things in the front of my mind all the time. And then the next question is how would I live my life if these were the things I thought about myself all the time?

change . . . of heart

This morning, driving into work, I heard an interview on the radio with a woman who is 109 years old. She is the daughter of a former slave. She talked about how her father, in the 1960's, saved his money so he would have enough money to pay the poll tax in order for him to vote. She talked about how proud she was to have voted for the first black man to become President. It brought tears to my eyes and truly gave me a new way of seeing what an amazing thing that has happened. I may not agree with his policies or ideas, but I can definitely respect him for this historic accomplishment.

top ten

Have you ever taken the time to post a comment on someone's blog, only to come back later and find your comment has been deleted? I've recently pondered this very thing and came up with these top 10 reasons why your comment might be deleted.

10. It's obvious you just want someone to visit your blog.

9. You're such a potty mouth.

8. Your profile image is dumb.

7. Your comment was completely irrelevant to the discussion.

6. Nice try, but I can still tell it's spam.

5. Your same comment appeared more than once (ya big dummy!)

4. Your comment had so many typos it appeared to be a foreign language.

3. Your comment was too long. Get your own blog.

2. Your comment was sexual in content, but you didn't include any contact information.

1. You're an idiot and no one wants to hear what you have to say anyway.

apologies

A few years ago I was taking a Survey course and kind of got into it with the instructor. I don't remember what it was about, but something he had said set me off and I got an attititude. I don't hide my emotions, at all, so he and everyone in the class knew I was pissed and I didn't care.

Later that week, of course, I felt horrible and embarassed. It was so bad I thought I might not even be able to finish the course, because I was so embarassed by the way I had acted. Even though I may have felt justified in my anger, I knew that my behavior had been completely inappropriate.

So, I called the instructor and apologized. It was one of the hardest things I had ever done, but I knew if I wanted to go back to class the next week without feeling like a complete idiot I was going to have to apologize. Turned out to be one of the best things I ever did. The rest of the semester was great!

I bring all this up, because I'm wondering why some people have such a difficult time making apologies. There have been a couple of times this week that two different people have done things or said things that were just completely inappropriate, but instead of apologizing they just act as though they haven't done anything wrong. Is it possible they don't recognize their bad behavior? Or is it that they can't admit they're wrong?