Words

     I was eighteen and worked in the book department of our local entertainment store.  Stocking books and wiping away tears.  Apparently I've always had stubborn tears---the kind that fall when you least appreciate their burning sting.
     My former-student-English teacher, whom I adored and first introduced me to the philosophy of 'existentialism',  was my one of my managers.  He walked by and noticed me crying.  I can feel the book I was shelving in my hand, I can see the carpet, and I can still recollect the exact corner in which we were standing.  My God, I have always loved books.  Words.  Escape.  What a brilliant gift to Your people.
     It was his advice that makes this such a vivid memory.  I have very few vivid memories.  I attribute it to a childhood lived in mostly fear and an adulthood lived with little sleep.  He told me to write down all the things I didn't want to be.  All the ways I wouldn't do things.  He said I didn't HAVE to repeat the cycle.
     It's as if the fist chain in my life was mentally broken in.that.moment.  It took many more years of ridiculous actions and regretful moments of self-hatred and a decade of marriage before I finally understood that I, the broken one, the dirty one, the used one, the abandoned one...etc...was actually worthy of love.
     It took the words of my biological father, calling on a day that defies all odds other than the Holy Spirit's active work, that still radiate through my heart: Daughter, hear me, you were not a mistake.  We knew what our actions would lead to.  You are one of the best things I have ever done.  I still get a lump in my throat...cherished...by a father.  Cherished...period.
     I spent over 30 years of my life trying to pour my life out as on offering of apology for ruining what-could-have-been by my existence.  I didn't even realize I was doing it.  It all hit me a few summers ago when things got so ugly...I could hardly breathe through the pain of the words I have longed to forget over and over and over.  Words that I said and words said by others.  I was devastated that as an adult, I actually stooped to doing one of the things on  my list of nevers.
     What are we supposed to do with words we've locked so deep into the pits of our ugly hearts?  Is there ever a good or "deserving" time to release them?  Will it feel like a balloon released into the sky to have them gone?  Or will it feel like a huge wave that crashes and destroys and leaves the taste of nasty, sticky salt water burning in your nose and the back of your throat? 
     I am so thankful that God has given HIS WORDS.  They are like a life preserver in the sea of sin and self absorption lest I drown in my ridiculous attempt to be heard (words that should never even be spoken).   An anchor to grab when I find myself suddenly grasping for even an ounce of my own humanity in a character-defining-situation lest I lose such control that I don't even recognize myself anymore or even worse, blind others to Him in me. 

• Proverbs 12:18 ESV 

There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

• Matthew 12:36 ESV 

I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak,

• Proverbs 16:24 ESV

Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.

• James 1:26 ESV 

If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless.

• Psalm 19:14 ESV

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

     Amen.  Sigh.  Amen.

   
    

is that static electricity or...

is my hair standing straight up on my head from me trying to pull it out!!??

aye-aye-aye

what a day...i'm pretty sure i am simply feeling sorry for myself...i ran TWELVE miles yesterday...it was...well...i can't lie...the hardest darn thing i have ever done physically.

and thank goodness i have girl friends...bc men are pretty much useless at celebrating personal bests that aren't their own...after a few hours of feeling bitter about that...i realized that they simply aren't genetically wired for such over-the-top affirmation...hence God's gift in girl friends!

and it also just so happens that my OA is quite exhausted from his recent work load/schedule. he is an amazingly hard worker...he never believes me...but sometimes i am a tad jealous that he gets to head off to work. this is the "slowest" my life has ever been...i'm only taking one on-line class this semester...i substitute at merm's pre-school...i cook...and i clean...and life is actually starting to get into a rhythm...my kiddos are thriving...sigh...and i should be soooooo happy.

i am so social...so used to craziness...this "routine" is almost stifling me....it's (routine) what i have been craving for years...or my whole life...and i finally get it...and yet it's all i can do to not run out and get a job...volunteer...take more classes...but then i look at my extremely happy kiddos' faces...they are thriving on the lesser chaos...the always having mommy around...the knowing what to expect at every turn...smaller-sigh...

my problem is nothing more than...i have earned money since i was 14...i'm pretty sure that i had two jobs at any given time throughout high school...i (wrongly) take offense to every stressful moment OA has over our tight budget...i feel like i am not doing enough...if only i could get paid to raise my children...sighsighsighsigh...

oh well...soon enough...i will look back on these years...as i already think it about their babyhood...and thank God and my husband for allowing me to have these amazing moments together with my (sometimes rude, stubborn, thankless...amazing, loving, precious) little children...drink these moments in granola...chip spilling...dog yelling...hair pulling and all!!

the blues

yeah, i got em.

they are every where...even in the big beautiful blue sky...except the sky can smile through the clouds when it's blue.

i lit some candles and prayed for people other than myself.

i watched house...it def didn't help...as cuddy is faced with the same question i always struggle with: can I be a mother...aka...mommy...AND...a professional.

i know many who can...but i am not many...my heart is (usually) with my children. but while my heart is very much in love...there are those days that bring even the best of moms to her knees...i question...and then my dearest well-intentioned husband says something to the effect of: yeah right, you want to be home all the time...

and i crumble...because...he's right. i can't find my balance.

or rather...i can't keep my balance. though i am beginning to think that's just the way God likes me to be...a bit off balance...so i will learn to reach out, take His hand, and rely on Him.

sigh...do my children have to keep growing up soooo fast?

The Merminator

the estrogen pool (my description of female gatherings) is usually a bit too deep for me to swim in...for instance...during a women's retreat one weekend we were sitting around a breakfast table...me (on not enough sleep) and a round table full of unknown females...the unknown females were discussing their children...the discussion was about style...the unknown moms were discussing their expectations for their individual child's style...of course blue hair and black clothes were not on their list of hopes...

i put my coffee cup down and pretty much blurted out..."well...my worst fear is that my child will want to sport a short hair cut and a polo shirt..." the looks on their faces were worth the energy it took to speak before finishing my entire cup of coffee...but really...i am terrified of having a preppy child...oh, the Oversized Asian is praying for it...but we all know mama prayers are pretty powerful...

as i was saying...the Merminator...well...this child...she is so impossible to define...even now...as i am typing...chills are up and down my spine...i think God is going to have me put my patience where my mouth is...even now...i don't regret not wanting polo cladden children...if my husband would let me...i would have blue tipped hair and facial piercings...don't worry...it will never happen...i am married to a man who wants to hide my tie-dyed shirts...

ANYHOW...my daughter is a free spirit...i am so thankful God knew how much i really needed a daughter...she challenges me on everything...EVERYTHING...she's the only three year old, i am sure, that knows the phrase: your incessant whining is making mommy's brain hurt...PLEASE...for the love of all that's holy...PLEASE STOP WHINING!!

YET, there are those stolen moments...when she plays with my hair...kisses my face...dances like a total goof...trips over her own feet, and her brothers, and mine...mentions God...tells me i am her best friend and that when she grows up she wants to have straight hair like mommy...

sigh...she is so beautiful...so head strong...so fiercely intense...deeper sigh...i have a feeling PDD is going to be one of the easiest parts of my journey through motherhood...it's so scary to teach the importance of being an individual and then to try and step out of said individuals way to do so...i think i need to give my daughter more room to be who she already is...do a little more listening and a little less deep sighing...maybe she wants to look at me and say: mommy...your incessant sighing is making my brain hurt...PLEASE...just hush and play with me...

well...if she had her wishes i would just hold her all day...deepest sigh...all too soon i am sure that i will regret that i didn't...