Archive for June, 2009

I love the weekend. 48+ hours to do whatever I want and to be wherever I want. I love that freedom. And then they’re over, and I just have deep breaths and 5 o’clocks to get me through to the next weekend.

That being said, I feel, blog world, it is time to make my official announcement, as I have told most people I felt needed to hear it from me first. I am leaving this fair city of Oklahoma. I am moving to Texas. Fear not, though, it is not permanent. Well, my move from this city may be permanent, but my move to Texas is not. I am living with my parents for a while, working, and trying to figure out what exactly I am going to do with this little life of mine.

This is, most of all, unexpected. I feel sad, leaving this place which has concooned me for 4 years and taught me more things about myself, the world, and God than one blog post could hold. So, deep breaths, weekends, 5 o’clocks, will get me to early mid-August. And then, I’ll move.

And, you know what, it’s ok. Because sometimes, you just have to move on.


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A direct quote from Jon, one of the 10 year old twin boys I nanny, on discussing why the movies aren’t free, in response to my answer of, “Well, then no one would make any money.”

“Well, the government takes all over our money anyway, right?”

Sometimes, I don’t even know how to respond. All of my big, fancy words don’t mean much to kids who just want some unconditional love and support.

I have always mothered. It feels to me like a central force of who I am. When I was a child, I didn’t have one doll I took care of, but four. I played house for hours, even by myself, organizing and reorganizing how everything fit into my playhouse. Cold, snow, rain, I was still out there. So, you’d think I’d grow up to be some sort of ideal housewife in the making. But, somewhere between the fairy tales, Dr. Seuss, and some firey and strong and sassy as hell parents, came me. Who nannys. Dreams of grad school. Uses words like prudent in everyday conversation. And reads books like Women and Religion just for kicks.

And who everyday thinks, “How in the hell does anyone ever have kids?”

Still, I shrug my shoulders. I have the past day or so found a rythmn. Where I can’t see how it will all work out, but I choose to trust anyway. And it’s terrifying, but pretty damn beautiful too.

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Healing and Rest

I’ve been thinking a lot about healing and rest lately. How they go hand-in-hand, and how it’s something we all sometimes think of as a bit of a pipe dream, and it’s something we could always use a little more of.

I am not always the most creative. After all, too often, I lack the creative vision to even believe it is possible to be outside of a situation. It all feels too real. Emotions do that. They intice you to believe their truth, their reality, and in the end, you find yourself trapped by them. And that’s the easiest way to spot a lie, because truth always sets you free.

I found myself in a very quiet place this weekend. One where I was alone most of the time and I didn’t talk much, which may seem obvious, but I have a borderline nutty habit of talking out loud, so it isn’t all that obvious to me. So, I just thought a lot. I thought about this great thing it is to be a woman. I thought about the bitterness in my own heart. I thought about the possibility in life. Sometimes my thoughts were good. I felt encouraged. Other times I cried. I don’t much worry about crying anymore either. I figure it’s something we have to do now and then, and if we were all a little more honest with ourselves, we’d all probably cry a little more.

But, mostly, I just felt myself shutting down, but not all in a bad way. I just felt this little whisper in my soul that I needed to slow down, smell flowers, and take to loving myself as fiercely as I love those around me. Because that’s the thing about loving your neighbor as yourself: it comes with the assumption, that you love yourself. (Which of course only works, only makes sense after loving God holistically).

So, that’s what I need to learn. I’ve spend so much time taking care of other people, I’ve forgotten somethings. I’ve resigned myself to be a little less than I am. To doing less. I’ve grown some weedy bitterness. I’ve harbored some bad habits. I’ve justified, rationalize, and other things that sound like that.

I’m starting to remember that it’s not that I can do anything. It’s that I truly can do what I am supposed to do.

Rest. Pray. Heal. Love. (And laugh and eat pizza inbetween).

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1. Makes me cranky.
2. Makes me a bad babysitter (see #1).
3. Makes want to curse and scream (see #2).
4. Generally lowers my happy disposition.

Sun, dear Sun. Must you shine so brightly? Must you beat down so hard? Must you hate me so?

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I am a very blessed girl.

It would seem as the tidal waves of life come swooping through the ocean, and I find myself frozen on some beach of indecision, my God is my help. You see, since graduating 1 month and 3 days ago, I have been on the edge of constantly breaking down. Fears of inadequacy and other friendly qualls seemed to be hiding just beneath the surface of my skin. And then, Wednesday happened. And to say it happened is not an understatement, because nothing really happened. It was Wednesday, I worked, went to the library, and then cried.

I mean, I wept. And I wish I was a beautiful crier. Someone who looks graceful and regal, but I, alas, am a snotty nosed, red and scrunched up face, hyperventilating crier. It isn’t graceful; it isn’t regal. But, it is real. So, I cried for an hour or so, cried for all the things I thought I couldn’t do, but needed to, cried for all the times I’d given up, cried for wanting to give up so badly, cried help, cried please, cried. Then, as I lay in bed, wondering what to do, I got up paced around and walked to the kitchen. I looked out the window on our red door onto our porch and saw it. A red bird. A red bird sitting on the chair on our porch looking at me. We held a gaze, I listened to its whispers, then it flew away.

Deep exhale. Deep inhale. Peace.

I don’t know if you remember about the red bird. A poem by Mary Oliver (see “I’m a Calendar Girl” in January, I’m not savvy enough to put in a link). But, my heart was flooded. I will be ok. Then, I was reminded of my own words earlier in the day in an email to a dear friend.

I was reading my Bible this morning (a small miracle in itself, I suppose) and today’s Old Testament reading comes from Deuteronomy which is kinda fun to say, really. It’s part of Moses’s song and I am reading it but not really reading it, you know, when all of the sudden a verse pops out at me and I just started crying. It was “In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste. He shielded him and care for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye.” And I just remembered. I remembered that no matter what happens in August, God is and that is not the most important thing but the only thing. And the fact that God loves me is more. And I know I know this, but sometimes it just becomes another thing I know and then suddenly I really know it again. And it’s more beautiful than the last time because in all that in between time I see how God was still there, faithfully working even when I was winey and grasping at the straws of the illusion of control. I mean, things are stewing.

I will rest in that. And I’ll be on the lookout for red birds and reminders.

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On these days filled with sunshine, humidity, and a lot of netflix movies, I find my life sometimes boring to myself, and yet, I sharply inhale sometimes to realize that I have these great people around me. And all of these things that are happening around us that are scary, exciting, heartbreaking, boring, and have us feeling a little shaken, I find myself praying these prayers.

A prayer for a barefoot heart. A heart that allows people to come into life, kick off their shoes and rest. But, also, a place buried in that heart where one can find rest and meet with God.

A prayer for holy laughter and holy tears, because both will always be CPR for the soul.

A prayer for a warm blanket and a warm community, and truly common unity.

A prayer for a spot that no one can hit but God, and the strength to call out.

I truly feel as though I have so few words these days, but these words will have to do.

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Rainy Wednesday

This is what my life is like:

A rainy Wednesday and just listening to Daner tell me one crazy story after another. I secretly love every bit of it.

God has been good to me. I have been praying, frustrated, untrusting for answers, and God keeps revealing who He is to me. And I keep stomping my feet and demanding answers. I kept telling God that He wasn’t giving me what I wanted and that wasn’t good enough. I kept slapping Him in the face and crossing my arms and throwing tantrums.

Yet, last night, as repentance crept into my heart as I was reminded how faithful God is. How over and over again God faithfully reveals Himself, and I go chasing illusions and shadows of truth, and God is faithful. I have a moment of faithfulness, and God is faithful. I have days of mistrust, bittnerness, and God is faithful.

I even told God, grumpily, that I wanted some rain. And look at this day. Just the shade of grey that lets me breathe, and God continuing to remind me of His glory, His faithfulness, His love.

Because, after all, that’s what it is about.

So, I’m still just waiting, praying, and trusting. Because God is faithful, and that’s all I can do.

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