Searching For Feet.
So somehow, I’ve lost my momentum on this blog and never quite gotten it back. I haven’t been writing at all, except for e-mails, in months now, and lately I’ve been thinking that it’s time to start again. This is something that kind of comes and goes, I guess. I’ve been thinking about other things and busy with cleaning and organizing my house, and getting ready to home school next year, but as I get stuff organized and start feeling better about how the house is being run, writing comes back.
I guess maybe I’ve been cleaning for another reason, besides home school, eh? I dunno. It’s a bit odd to be me sometimes. I haven’t been doing much in the way of reading or studying, but it’s like the stuff I learned before is coming to fruition in my life anyway. I’ve always felt like a schmuck when it comes to housecleaning, and I’ve always felt like it was something I should be better at because it’s better for me and my family if we always have clean clothes and home cooked food, but I often fall short of that goal.
I still do, because I get tired easily, and I often feel sick, but instead of feeling guilty, I just wait it out and do what’s absolutely necessary until I feel up to working my butt off again. Since we’ve worked on the kids’ rooms, they’re more able to clean up after themselves, which is a great bonus, and I taught Shaya how to load and unload the dishwasher, so she can do that when I’m feeling crappy. Now, we’re going to work on laundry!
I guess it’s kind of tacky to make the kids do housework, at least from one point of view, but this is kind of a home school before home school starts project. They need to be able to clean up after themselves [something I never learned until I was a grownup, and something that Steve would tell you I'm still not the best at] in order to become effective adults. Especially Matt, because he has my distractable tendencies, and forgets what he’s supposed to be doing, so his cleanup process takes a lot more supervision and energy to maintain.
So anyway, I’ve been thinking about writing again, in the midst of all this upheaval and organization. I got a course by Holly Lisle online, called How to Think Sideways, and I started it back in the beginning, but at the time, I was only able to download one lesson a week, and sometimes I get on a roll, and don’t want to stop once I get going, so it was messing up my rhythm.
It’s all downloaded and complete now, so I think I’m going to start up with it again, and see where it takes me. I did the first five or six weeks back when it started, and I was already having a great increase in my creativity, and getting in touch with my ‘muse’ so I’m looking forward to starting up again.
I was thinking about posting my progress here, and maybe starting a free write at the beginning of my sessions on the blog, so God willing, I’ll be posting more often here. Seems like I should be doing something with it since it’s still here and easy to use, eh?
Come fall, I’ll have home school news to post, so that should be fun. I’ve decided to use Seton Home School curriculum because it’s fully planned out for you. When I home schooled Shaya before, we couldn’t afford a curriculum, so I did it with no idea of what I was doing, and no help, and Shaya’s education was far from complete because of it. At the time, I would never have used Seton, because it’s Roman Catholic, but since I’m Orthodox now, RC isn’t quite as offensive to me as when I was protestant. Makes sense, since the Protestant movement came out of Roman Catholicism, and so you get a lot of ‘Romeaphobia’ in protestant circles.
I’ve learned that while Luther was right to protest some of the things he disagreed with, the path that some of the others took after he opened the can of worms that became the Reformation, was anything but good. It’s kind of a sad thing, from one perspective, because of the shattering of the Church, and yet, a lot of good has come from the Reformation, too. So I dunno. I said all that to say that I’ll be using a Catholic home school curriculum, which also happens to be one of the most complete, and cheapest on the market, so it’s a double whammy!
I think Steve’s mom is a little worried about me using RC material, but in the end, I decided that it would be easier to filter through Catholic teachings than Protestant teachings, even though they’re both two sides of the same coin. There isn’t a curriculum available that’s Orthodox, so I gotta make do with what I got, you know?
I’ll be supplementing with Orthodox books, too, though. So hopefully, it will work out and my kids will get a well-rounded education. I think it will be good, because I can learn with my kids, and that’s kind of exciting, you know?
So about writing. Even though I’ve taken quite a detour on my quest to write books, I think I might be ready to stretch my brain in that direction again. I have a hard time finding balance for some reason. It’s like I only have enough capacity to focus on one, or at the most, two, areas of my life at a time, so when I’m doing one thing, like cleaning and organizing, everything else takes a back seat. I’ve always been that way, and I’ve tried at various times in my life to be wider in my focus, I can’t seem to master it.
I’m hoping that with home school, it will enable me to be a better, more involved parent [my kids are pretty self-sufficient, and they'll find stuff to do without bothering me, which is great, but it lets me be lazy in interacting with them, so I don't pay enough attention to them] and then after we’re done with school, I’ll be able to focus on writing and not feel guilty because I will have spent a good portion of the day with the kids.
I’m also going to be teaching them how to cook, clean, and do laundry, which is necessary for them, and will be a great help to me. We’ll be taking weekly trips to the library, and Seton has curriculum for PE, music, and art. I’m also planning to grow a garden this spring, and the kids will be helping with that, too. I think they’ll enjoy it. They all like being outside [well, Matt would rather be inside, but I think he'll like watching stuff grow because he's got a scientific, hands-on learning style].
Well, Michaela just came to me and said, “I want some bwead, an some appewbuttew on my bwead.” She loves apple butter. So I’d better go. I’ve got other stuff that needs to be done, too, but God willing, I’ll write more on here tomorrow!
More About the Other Night.
So it occurs to me last night after I turn the computer off that I might have left you with the impression that I found the Great Vespers service dull and boring. I can’t really say that I was bored, in all honesty. I did have an incredibly hard time paying attention to the words being spoken, though.
I found that my attention span is less than a gnat. I knew this already, of course, but I was in denial about it. When we go to our protestant church here in town, I have a hard time paying attention there, too, but there’s only one point the guy is trying to make. And ten or twelve scripture verses. At Vespers, they might have read fifteen chapters of the Bible, and I tried desperately to listen to it, because when I managed it, I could tell where they were reading from [for instance, I could tell that part of the time they were reading from Psalms, and part of the time, I could tell that they were reading prayers from the prayer book, because I recognized some of the words].
I liked the service because everyone participated for quite a portion of it. They recited prayers, bowed and crossed themselves a lot. They sang responses to prayers and parts of what the priest was saying. And the priest! He was doing something [although I'm not sure what he was actually doing part of the time] the whole time he was in there.
We did sit down for a few minutes while a lady named Lois read about the lives of the saints for that day [which I forgot to mention last night]. I liked that, but I wondered what Steve would think when she read that the relics of the saint had caused miracles. Steve likes to think he believes in miracles, and maybe he does, but if they don’t fall into a certain mental category in his mind, then they’re dismissed as fake. I get it, you know? I’ve been there, and although I was there more because I was angry than because of wrong teaching, I’m beginning to feel just how extensively different protestant teaching is from Orthodox, and I’m realizing that only a bona-fide miracle would ever convince someone to convert to Orthodoxy from Protestantism.
People seem to come to Orthodoxy from Protestantism out of sheer desperation, and I’m no exception. I just wanted to know God, to really know Him, and I didn’t really care what religion that meant I’d be a part of, I just wanted Him. So it was easy for me to chuck everything from Protestantism and start over from scratch in Orthodoxy.
Protestants don’t venerate icons, they don’t pray with saints, they don’t believe in the real Presence during the Eucharist, don’t do confession, don’t believe in elaborately decorated sanctuaries…these things are borderline blasphemy [or outright blasphemy] to my protestant friends and family.
And you know what? That’s as good an excuse as any not to convert to Orthodoxy. Because Orthodoxy isn’t just different and foreign and strange and ancient on the outside. There’s nothing ‘hidden’ or esoteric about it, but Orthodoxy quite literally means giving up your rights, giving up your very life, in every way imaginable, to God. There’s a contemporary Christian song [actually, most of them are like this, but this one is really popular right now] you can go here to hear it and read the whole song, but some of the words are:
Empty me of the selfishness inside
Every vain ambition and the poison of my pride
And any foolish thing my heart holds to
Lord empty me of me so I can be filled with you.
I love this song. It’s catchy, the tune is pretty, the words are my prayer, and always have been since I first became a Christian. And the one thing that has frustrated me beyond belief is that in Protestantism, they don’t really teach you how to empty yourself.
They try, don’t get me wrong. There’s a system and a method for reaching that goal and it is:
Study the Bible
Pray
Get involved in a local church [evangelicals will say get involved in a Bible teaching church]
Get out into the community and do a ministry of some sort
If that doesn’t work, then you read books. Lots of books. Every year or so, there’s a new book that comes out that becomes a best-seller because it’s ‘life-changing.’ Some examples of books and studies I’ve been a part of are:
The Road to Reality [I might have blogged about this one...can't remember now]
A New Kind of Christian [for emergent Christians..I wrote a whole series of blog posts about this one]
Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire
“Experiencing God” and “The Mind of Christ”
A Ragamuffin Gospel
“The Purpose Driven Church” and “The Purpose Driven Life” [Didn't actually finish this one]
The list goes on. Every one of these books made me think about God in a way that I hadn’t before. They all made me cry, and made me want to do better in my walk. The one thing they didn’t do for any length of time was help me succeed in doing better.
In finding a church, my three criteria for finding a ‘good one’ were: Good Preaching, Good Music, Nice People. If you have good music, it moves your spirit and gets you in the mindset of meeting God. Its purpose is to get us into a worshipful attitude so that we can feel God’s presence. It works, too. When I listen to Christian music [like the song above] I feel moved. Sometimes I cry. I praise God and feel love for Him. But if the song isn’t good to me aesthetically, it doesn’t achieve that. The words may be great, but if the music isn’t something I like, I don’t feel much. Sometimes the music is great but the words annoy me. Same result, no feeling of being closer to God, or wanting to be closer to Him.
The same is true for preaching. If a preacher is teaching the Bible, but he’s not a very good speaker, I can’t get into it. If he’s not entertaining, engaging, interesting, and funny [funny is a big thing for me] then I probably won’t get much out of the sermon.
Worship for me has always been about what I like, about what moves me emotionally. I left my last church [and so did a bunch of other people] because the music was horrible, and the preaching wasn’t any good, either. Not only that, but the personality of the pastor is about as appealing as a porcupine. He doesn’t exude love, he exudes an “I don’t really give a crap about you” vibe that’s really hard to get around.
I left because I felt like I was starving spiritually. Like I wasn’t “being fed” at all. My walk was getting more difficult. It was getting easier to skip church altogether, and skip Bible reading, and studying, and praying and all the rest. I felt like the pastor wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain. He wasn’t making me feel like I wanted to continue in my Christian walk, and that scared me. A lot.
But then I gotta wonder. If I depend on the music or a good sermon to worship God, and I can’t feel His presence if I’m not moved emotionally, then am I really feeling His presence, or am I just moved emotionally and nothing else? What if what I thought was the Holy Spirit is just an emotional reaction? I don’t know if that’s true or not, and I’d like to believe that it isn’t, but what if?
At Vespers the other night, I got the distinct impression that the service wasn’t about me at all. The priest didn’t even face us except when he was giving a blessing or flinging the incense all around. He faced the icons [which are representations of the people who are already in heaven: John the Baptist, Jesus, The Virgin Mary, and St. Basil the Great at this church because St. Basil is the Saint that the church is named after] he bowed to the icons, and he went into this little room with more icons and a table with some stuff on it [I saw a candle and some holy water, but I have no idea what the other stuff was] and he prayed out loud while the reader was reading part of the time, and basically did what he was supposed to do and it had little to do with me.
They read tons of verses from the Bible, but there was no interpretation. The priest didn’t tell me what the scriptures meant, he just let the reader read, and sometimes the people chanted along when they knew the verses and prayers that were being read. The whole thing was about focusing on God, not on what made these individuals happy, or what made them “feel” closer to God.
It certainly wasn’t about my comfort. We sat for about five minutes during the whole service and stood the rest of the time.
Now after the service, everyone was incredibly nice and went out of their way to make us feel welcome. They were all converts from Protestantism, so they answered some of the typical concerns that Protestants usually have coming into an Orthodox service, and mostly, we just visited for a couple of hours. Like I said before, I felt at home there, and understood for the first time in a long time.
Heh. These people were just as crazy as I am. They know that from the outside, converting to Orthodoxy doesn’t make a bit of sense. They’ve had to deal with the scoffing and the “That’s great for you, but it’s not for me” and “Why are you going so overboard with this?” from Christians who you’ve talked to about the ache in your heart because nothing you do seems to effect a lasting change in your life. How sin is just as rampant as ever, and why doesn’t God do more to help you out of this miserable state you’re in? They’re in pain, too, just like you, but they’re still clinging to the hope that if they just keep plugging away and doing the things they’re supposed to do, eventually, something will change and they’ll have a breakthrough and be able to live a holy life.
All of the things I listed above are good things. I’m still reading books, but I’m reading stuff that’s almost 2000 years old now instead of the ‘latest greatest’ thing. I’m still studying my Bible. I’m still praying, but I read prayers that were written by saints who already led the kind of life I aspire to. Their prayers are a lot less selfish than mine. Instead of praying for what I want, I pray that God will have mercy on me, a sinner.
And I can’t quite put my finger on it, I have no idea exactly what happened, or how, or why, but after one Vespers service, I’m suddenly able to write about Orthodoxy. I made the decision to become a ‘card-carrying member of the Orthodox church’ 
months ago, but I’ve been terrified to write it down and post it publicly. And I’ve been afraid to step out and actually take the steps necessary to really join the Church. Why all of a sudden am I able to write volumes about it, and why is my fear suddenly gone? Why am I suddenly willing to join the Church even if Steve won’t? Why is it that I suddenly know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ve found the Way when I questioned everything about Protestantism almost from the beginning?
Something happened to me Saturday night. While I was looking around and trying desperately to listen to the words being spoken and failing miserably, this strange peace and, absence of fear, I guess you’d call it, snuck in and took hold of me and hasn’t let go. None of the things I used to look for in a good church service happened Saturday night [except for the Nice People part], and yet my fear is gone. I’m changed, and although I’ve been changing since I first started this journey into Orthodoxy, the fear has been a constant companion, the ‘biggie’ that I couldn’t conquer no matter how hard I tried. And suddenly, without even asking God to take it away, the fear is gone and I am free. Wow.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still a sinner, but I have hope. I know that it’s possible to really, truly change and become the image of Christ, here on this earth, in this lifetime, because many, many people have done it. The Orthodox church has a ’system’ too, but it’s so different from what I’ve known that I’m still no good at explaining it. It’s all still too new, but I’ve got bits and pieces, and the biggest thing has been letting go of my hangups about having a system. I guess it’s not really a system, then, is it? It’s a way of life. It changes everything, and turns stuff upside-down, and it’s strange and wonderful and terrifying and difficult and downright hard a lot of the time.
heh. it’s just like Jesus said it would be. Man. I gotta be nuts.
nervous…
So I’m nervous about my post from before. I had hoped to know a little more about [and have a little more experience being] Orthodox Christian before I started writing about it, because quite frankly, I’m an idiot. I screw things up daily. I use a lot of profanity, smoke cigarettes, and am generally a prideful, obnoxious, pain in the ass. If anything, I’m a poster child of what a bad Christian looks like.
I hate to think of writing about Orthodoxy because I’m really, really not qualified. I’m going to get it wrong. A lot. And I feel like the Orthodox Faith deserves a better representation than I can give. In other words, I don’t want something I say lead anyone to believe that all Orthodox Christians are as messed up, disjointed, confused, sometimes rude, and generally incoherent as I am.
There are so many people who can give you whatever answers you need, but I’m probably not that person. Doesn’t mean I won’t try, but my inadequacies will likely become painfully apparent to anyone who cares to look. My guess is that I will write quite a bit about random stuff, including religion, and in particular, Orthodoxy, but I’m not a theologian, and I’m not very smart, so don’t expect much, okay? 
I’ve put off writing in here for a long time because I’ve begun a journey that I can’t even explain to the people who love me and understand me the most, what makes me think I’ll be able to write it down and do a better job? Heh. The answer is: I probably can’t, and I want to. I want it to be perfectly clear, and perfectly written, and, well, perfect!
But then I think, this blog has never really been about being perfect, so why start trying the impossible now? This thing is mostly a record of my journey through life. A way for me to get stuff out of my head so it doesn’t drive me crazy. Heh. Consider this my disclaimer. If you’re looking into the Orthodox Christian Faith, I’ll find some links to post on the side of my blog and you can go there. If you’re curious about what a crazy housewife/wannabe writer is up to and what she’s rambling aimlessly about now, then read on.
New Things…
So, last night, Steve and I took the kids and went to our first ever Orthodox Great Vespers. The kids were amazingly well-behaved. Matt was bored ["I didn't like it because it was sooooooo loooooong!!!"] Michaela had a hard time being quiet, but she asked if we could go back to the “Er do doc Chuwch” which might be the cutest thing ever. She liked it because there was a baby there, and she wants to go back to see the baby.
Although tonight, we were driving back from Shannon and Lindsay’s house and she said, “Can we not pray tonight?” and I said, “No, we love God so we want to talk to him.” and she said, “OH!!! When you go to the Or tho doc Church, you have to pray.” Michaela has gone to church since she was born, and somehow she’s never made the connection between church and prayer before in quite that way. Wow.
Shaya was scared because when Father Elias was using the incense thingie [it's called a Sensor, but I'm not sure if it's Sensor or Censor, and I'm too lazy to google it right now] he was swinging it, and she thought he had his eyes closed [he may have] and she thought he was going to smack her in the side of the head with it. Which made me giggle, even though it’s tacky to laugh when your kids are scared for the safety of their head.
After the service, which was held in Father Elias’s basement, his wife [I can't remember her name and I feel horrible because it's an unusual name and I kind of liked it and now I can't remember it! Grrrrr.] gave the kids sparkling grape juice, which made their night. Matthew was dying of thirst. I know this because he asked me if he could get a drink about fifteen times during Vespers. I was a mean mom and said no.
So the service itself. Well, I knew what to expect, so the chanting, incense and icons weren’t as shocking as they would have been if I hadn’t prepared myself. Steve wasn’t shocked, either, because I had told him what to expect, too. But all in all… Well, if I’m being completely honest, it lasted a long time. You really notice the time when you’re standing up the whole time.
I recognized several of the prayers from my prayer book that I printed out from the Internet, but I don’t have them memorized, so I couldn’t participate much. During the Lord’s Prayer, though, man! I was excited! Because I know that one!!! So I said it. And I crossed myself, and I was happy because I’ve been teaching the kids to cross themselves when we say, “In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit” and that’s when they crossed themselves, too. So I did it right! Woo hoo!!
Side note: When Michaela [the four year old with the speech impediment] crosses herself, she usually forgets to go from right to left, because she’s facing me as I cross myself, so she does mirror image instead of the same way, but anyway, she says, “In the Name of the Fathew, Son, and Holy ‘Piwit”. I don’t know why but that makes me ridiculously happy. I think God must smile, too, because it’s freaking cute, I tell you.
So anyway, Steve enjoyed the singing and the melodies of the chants, but other than that, he said he was kind of thinking, “What’s the point?” He said at one point that he didn’t get much out of it. Truth be told, I didn’t get much out of it either, but I went into it not expecting to get.
I did hope for a miracle, though I’m a little embarrassed to admit it. I wanted Steve to come out of the service and suddenly understand my fascination with the Orthodox Faith, but that didn’t happen. He still doesn’t get it, but I told him that if this is how God wants me to worship Him, then I’ll do it that way until I die, because worship isn’t about me, it’s about God…and if He likes that, then I’ll do it.
Steve understands that. He gets it. And he’ll do whatever God wants him to do. He’s just not convinced that that’s really how God wants to be worshiped. So I thought I might study the Old Testament a little [or a lot] and figure out exactly how God prescribed the worship service of the Hebrews, and see if it resembles what the Orthodox Christians do.
Because seriously, if God wanted to be worshipped with liturgy and vestments and chants and insence and icons in the OT, why in the world would anybody think that would change with the NT church? And I have to admit, I’m curious. I’ve read some of Exodus where God starts telling how He wants the temple built and all the stuff everyone has to wear and do to worship Him, but I haven’t really studied it.
For me, the path to Orthodoxy has been so similar and yet so different from other converts from Protestantism. God kind of turned my world upside-down when Artem came into my life. It’s probably the only way I was ever going to turn around and come back to Jesus, but still. I doubt many people have had a crazy Russian hi-jack their blog and tell them the unvarnished truth about their ’spirituality’.
After I came back to Christianity, I really didn’t expect to ever talk to Artem again, but then an atheist hi-jacked my blog and Artem was the first person I thought of to go to for help. And the conversation continued, and the next thing I knew, I was reading everything I could get my hands [or mouse] on about this Ancient Faith that was so foreign yet so familiar to me.
Orthodoxy had the answers I hadn’t found in Protestantism. Everything about it was different but it was like it was one ‘aha’ moment after another. Things made sense to me that had stumped and frustrated and downright pissed me off for years about the Christian faith. I read in Acts about how the early Christians were completely transformed into the image of Christ, and how they were so freaking different, and I looked at my own life, and things had changed, but then the ‘first blush’ had worn off, and I was just struggling again and miserable.
Orthodoxy is different. And understand that I’m really crappy at explaining things, so I can’t put it into proper words [which may be why my Protestant friends and husband look at me like I'm nuts when I try to talk about this stuff] but there’s no end, no cap to this Faith. There’s no limit to how far you can travel, or how close you can get to Jesus in Orthodoxy.
I’ve craved that ever since I first met Him. To be able to keep going and growing and changing as long and as fast as I’m able [which unfortunately isn't very] but the only limits now are because of me, not because my faith simply doesn’t have the answers.
So back to last night. After the service, I talked to the people who were there, and every one of them, with the exception of the priest, were converts from Protestantism. I listened to their stories, and it was my story. The paths were as different and individual as we are, and yet finally, finally I was with people who understand exactly what I’ve been going through, and who have reached the same conclusion I have.
I cried most of the way home because I felt like I’ve finally found my Home. I hadn’t realized just how lonely I’ve been, how beaten down by the negative attitude of the people around me. And I don’t hate these people, but it hurts my feelings. Part of me aches, but a bigger part is just pissed off because they’re so offput by the externals that they won’t let themselves even entertain the idea that there might be something deeper here than they’ve found anywhere else.
Tonight I heard the same thing I heard years ago when I first became a Christian, “That’s great for you. It’s just not for me.” Strange that I heard the same thing from a Christian about Orthodoxy as I heard from my non-Christian friends years ago about Christianity.
It sucks, too, because my first instinct is to get all defensive and prideful about it and place myself above them. You know the drill, “They’re just not as far along as I am” or “They’re just blinded by their own pride.” BAH!!!! It’s me. I’m the asshole. I hate it when I feel this way, and I hate it that it’s so freaking easy. Pride is like breathing for me. It will likely be the death of me. I just hope that it’s not the death of others, too.
I dunno. There are so many emotions I’m feeling. This morning when I woke up, I was pissed off at Steve. On the way home, he started asking me questions, and telling me how some of the stuff they did wasn’t stuff that Jesus did, and it wasn’t in the Bible, so it has to be bad, and then I tried to let it go so I could sleep, but apparently it just festered there like a boil on my ass and when I woke up it was about to pop.
Grrrr.
I woke up pissed off, partly because of the conversation with Steve last night, but also because I really wanted to go to Divine Liturgy this morning, and I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t want to go to our regular church, and I haven’t wanted to go there in a while now, but this morning it was especially bad.
But then, I found a website I had seen last night but not paid much attention to, and found that they broadcast the Divine Liturgy live from Florida. So I watched about fifteen minutes of it [we had to get ready to go to church] and I had peace all of a sudden.
So I wasn’t a jerk to Steve, and we went to the late service at church and I survived it, so I guess that’s good, eh?
I’m shockingly human here, and not a good example of humility or love at all. I don’t know what I’m thinking, going into this Faith, and yet I’m drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I guess that’s kind of what I am. I’m going toward the light, knowing full well I’ll likely be burnt to a crisp, and all I can think is, “It’s so pretty… I don’t care if I die!”
And I don’t. I don’t care if the Vespers and Liturgy are the driest, most boring thing in the world, I just want to be there. Every time. Forever if He’ll let me.
Ten Minutes and Counting
Okay, ten minutes to blog. I have no topic, so this is a free write. Heh. Prepare yourself for some aimless rambling.
I’m feeling pretty crappy this past week or so. I started a new writing course by Holly Lisle [Think Sideways] and the first couple of days, I was doing great, and then my energy level plummeted and now I’m struggling to stay awake until bedtime. Bummer. So I’m not getting much done right now. Hence the ten minutes of blogging time. I figure if I write for ten minutes a day, my blog will start getting some action [and she's been woefully neglected in the past year or so] and maybe I can get my ‘creative juices’ flowing again, too.
So today, I don’t feel much like writing. I’ve been doing a book study at church on two books, the first one was called Redemption, and the second one is called Remember. It’s a series about a Christian family and their struggles. I fully expected the books to be horribly written, as only Christian fiction can be, but it’s been surprisingly bearable to read. Karen Kingsbury and Gary Smalley wrote them. There are some plugs for Smalley’s marriage enrichment seminars and some of his other teaching stuff, but the stories are fairly interesting [if somewhat predictable].
Tomorrow is the last night for the study. To be honest, the main reason I agreed to join the group was so I can learn some of the ladies’ names. I don’t have them all yet, because the group was quite a bit bigger than I had anticipated, but I have gotten a chance to get to know some of the people a little better, so all in all, I’d say the book study was a success.
Shaya is at my mom and dad’s for a couple of weeks, and then my mom has surgery for a massive hernia on her abdomen on August 6th, so we’ll be going to KC for that, and then the whole family will go to my parents’ house for the week of the State Fair. Steve is working at the fair again this year, so he’ll be in Sedalia, while the kids, dogs, and I stay with my parents.
I don’t know how conducive having all of us underfoot will be for my mom’s recovery, but maybe we’ll be a good distraction from any pain she might have. HA! I’m a little nervous about mom’s surgery, since the last one was such a nightmare [and a supposedly 'minor' surgery. hmph!]. I don’t think she’s taking care of herself still, so who knows how this will turn out. Ugh.
Hey! That’s the end of my ten minutes! Woo hoo! I’ll talk to you tomorrow. If I get on a roll, I may extend the time eventually, but for now, this is it.
feeling weird
i was feeling kinda weird today. anxious. maybe because i forgot to eat [oops]. had some frustrations with a friend, Shaya is at the farm with my parents, so i miss her, but it feels like more than that. i want to hide for some reason.
i’m listening to Nickelback. i love Nickelback. they’re one of my all-time favorites.
i’m still anxious, though. supposed to go to a book study at church tonight, and i feel like i don’t want to go. i have no idea why, though. i just want to stay home and pray, or write, or listen to music, or all three.
i dunno. it’s almost like a feeling of anticipation, like maybe things are changing but i don’t know if it’s a good or bad change. ugh.
it’s almost time to go. i guess maybe i’ll write more later.
Had the urge to write…
But then I lost it.
Bummer.
I think I’ll go watch a movie instead.
Performance Anxiety
Lately, every time I sit down and start to write something here, I start second guessing myself. Which is kinda funny, since about two people read this thing anyway, so I could write about how aliens abducted me and told me that I’m destined to take the place of Britney Spears because they’re going to pick her up and take her back to her home planet, and no one would notice [although people tend to watch a train wreck, so if I went off the deep end like that, people would probably start stopping by every day just to see the progress of my mental breakdown].
Anyway, I think it’s a tiny bit funny that my pride took the form of fear. See, I’m pretty prideful anyway, which I’ve always known, but had no idea how to change it. I tried embracing it for a while and getting it to work for me instead of against me (heh, ever heard of the ‘law of attraction’? I think that may be one of the more brilliant ways to get us to embrace our pride. The Secret says, “I control my own universe, and I can have anything I want because it’s my right. I am god of my own world.” Wowee.
I think it probably works for some people, but not because they really have any control over their universe. It changes their perspective so much that, in their own minds, they either become completely responsible for their success, or totally responsible for their failures. So they’re either puffed up with pride at their successful use of the law of attraction, or they’re sent into despair at their failure to control their thoughts and keep them ‘positive’).
I’m odd, and I’m aware of it. I guess that’s a plus? My life has been changing so much, it’s hard to put into words. Which leaves me with about twenty seven false starts writing a blog entry, and a whole lotta nothin’ new on my blog. My spiritual journey is the main focus of my life these days. I’m still a wife, mom and sometimes writer, and I don’t neglect those people/things, but spare time is often taken up with reading, studying, talking about spiritual things with anyone who will listen, and praying.
I guess I hesitate to write much about it here because it’s more intimate, personal, and sacred than what I usually write about. Yeah, I know, I wrote about my magic wand and my adventure with Brazilian bikini waxing, but even though that’s about sex and private parts, it’s still not a deep issue for me. Writing about being raped was the most intimate thing I’ve ever shared on here, and I knew pretty much that no one would ridicule me for what happened. It’s not PC, don’cha know?
But it seems to be all the fashion to ridicule Christians. Of course it’s in the guise of humor, but we all know how much vindictive humor hurts. It’s okay to have any other faith besides Christianity, and I understand that a lot of people hate Christians, and like to tell any Christian they can just how much they despise my faith. I’m just not sure I want to open myself up that much.
This is a public blog, which means that just anybody can read it, and I guess I should admit that the possibility of having a troll show up [or a friend] and kinda stomp on what’s in my heart is a little daunting. You have to understand that for me, and for a lot of Christians, we’re not trying to control you or indoctrinate you just so we can have another butt in the seat at church. My faith in Jesus has radically changed my life, and made it better. It’s made me a better person. I have hope now that I didn’t have before. I have peace and joy, but most importantly, I have love that I can’t explain except to say that it comes from God.
I know that it doesn’t come from me, because I’ve been me as long as I can remember, and I know how sad life was before. I’ve spent a lot of years in depression and despair, and if you’ve read my blog, you know that some of it was brought about by a man who was a pastor of a church. And yet, here I am again, doing my best to follow Christ. I fail pretty much every day, but I can’t stop trying, because the alternative is too horrible to fathom.
I’m not talking so much about hell, although it is real and I don’t want to go there, but more about the complete despair of looking at a life where God isn’t intimately a part of my every action, thought, word or deed. I struggle with pride, with being a self-righteous jerk, with finding the line between doing too much and doing nothing with my faith. I’ve identified myself as a Christian for thirteen years now, and I’m still just barely a toddler. I fall down and scrape my face every other day, yet I find that when I rely on God, He never fails to give me what I need.
So I have this blog here, and it’s in sad disuse, and I’m not yet sure if I’m going to actually continue or not. I dunno. I guess I’ll play it by ear and see if I can be coherent enough to write some of what I’m thinking about. Heh. Would you believe I read Leviticus yesterday? And liked it! Yeah, well, anyway, that’s all I have for right now. We’ll see if anything else comes up later.
First Love
I was having random thoughts this morning, and one of the things I thought about was my ‘first love’. I’m not talking about crushes, although this might have started out as a crush. I had my first crush in Kindergarten. I’m not sure if that’s ‘normal’ or not, but it’s true. His name was ‘Brion’ spelled with an ‘o’. I’ve never really understood some parents’ desire to make their children ‘unique’ by spelling their names wrong. I mean, everyone’s different because that’s how the human race works, so why make the poor kid weird [and his/her name impossible to spell] or make yourself look like you can’t spell.
You know what’s weird, though? I picked the spelling “Michaela” because the name itself is a feminine form of Michael, and that’s what I was going for. I didn’t want to do phonetic spelling, like Makayla or some such. And you know what? Nobody ever spells her name right. They get it when I say ‘It’s Michael with an ‘a’ on the end.’ [well, usually].
So anyway, my first crush was named Brion. Brion moved away in the third grade or so. My second crush was named Aaron. Aaron moved to our school in the fifth grade, and it was kind of the thing to have a crush on the ‘new guy’ so I did. There might have been other crushes between Brion and Aaron. I remember having a couple of crushes on girls, believe it or not, but I didn’t imaging smooching with them. Mostly, I just thought they were really pretty and wanted to be their friend [pitiful, eh?]. I think some part of me wanted to be close to pretty girls in the hope that their prettiness would rub off on me.
I was a scrawny little shit, and people took savage pleasure in telling me how ugly I was every chance they got, so I ended up with a pretty damaged self-image. I wasn’t nearly as ugly as I thought I was, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. I was also ridiculously shy, and I can’t help but wonder if they were related. In any case, I never told any of my crushes that I liked them. As an adult, I’ve seen what a kid looks like when they have a crush, so I know it was painfully obvious to anyone with eyes and half a brain, but I was blissfully ignorant of my unconscious advertisement of unrequited love.
So anyway, my crushes weren’t just a couple of months and then move on to someone else. These things lasted years. Sometimes I would have mini-crushes, but for the most part, there was one guy that I liked, and that was it. I think my crush on Aaron lasted five or six years. It’s funny, though, because when I got older, I actually got to know him, and suddenly, my crush was gone. Funny how that happens, isn’t it? I see now that my imagination supplied his personality, and my imagination was a whole lot better than reality back then [maybe because I hadn't experienced much in relationships that was real, and so didn't know that my imaginings were unrealistic. When I finally learned that fact, it was both a relief and a disappointment].
So the last one, the one where I actually knew the guy and was friends with him before having a crush on him, was actually the first guy I ever fell in love with.
His name was David. I called him David, Davy, Dave, and often there were other nicknames, like ‘Dumbfuck’, ‘Dipshit’, and ‘Dumbass’. They all fit, because he was an arrogant, annoying, infuriating person, and I took great pleasure in insulting him because he needed his head punctured on a fairly regular basis.
Dave and I had been friends/enemies for a long time. We had gone through school together, from Kindergarten through high school, and we went through stages of friendship and dislike for each other the whole time. David used to call me for answers on homework, and I’d give them to him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart enough to do it on his own, it was just that for Dave, it was always more fun [although it was also often more work in the long run] to figure out a way to get school work done without having to actually do it himself.
This was back in the days before cordless phones, and I remember him telling me that he was riding his bike in circles in the garage, while talking on the phone with me, because his dad had an extra long cord on the phone in the garage. Davy was always a cutie, but he was also a trouble maker. One of our principals said he was ‘a-moral’ which is probably a misnomer, but his point was that Dave had no conscience.
I have my doubts that was actually the case, but I know that he had no problem stealing, fighting, faking injuries to get insurance money, and throwing hammers at cars as they were careening at about 80 miles an hour down the highway. I think maybe he had ADHD and was a typical selfish kid with a natural inability to think about the consequences of how his actions might affect someone else. I think he had less parental supervision, and he was naturally a risk-taker, so he did stupid stuff.
I was the exact opposite, in a way. My mom was distinctly overprotective, and my dad was instinctively fearful of most things, so I caught all of that fear and doubt, and it pretty much kept me from doing much risk-taking until I graduated from high school and was mostly on my own. I kind of had an overactive ‘consequence’ meter, and it would often tell me the most outlandish and unlikely and horrible possible consequence of my action, which kept me from doing much.
Ironic that it might have saved my life at some point, but stifled it as well. I’m not sure that a long half-life is better than a short, full one.
So anyway, one day, Dave and I were good friends, the next, something shifted for me, and I wanted more than friends. David never did. He lied to me once or twice and told me he did, but I think it was just a manipulation tactic.
I don’t know how to do anything halfway [all or none, baby] so when I was in love with David, it kinda consumed me. I see now that I was never actually in love with Dave for who he was at the time [he was a big jerk, truth be told] but in his potential. I knew there was something good in him [and I still believe that's true] and I knew that if he could focus that ridiculous energy and brain power toward something constructive, there’d be no stopping him.
So I encouraged him, and I tried to make him see that I believed in him and that I thought he could do anything. I was one of those annoying girls who thinks, “If I can just love him enough, he’ll change.” Yeah, well anyway, I was 17. And David taught me what a lie that was, and I think I deserve some freaking kudos for learning it before I was old enough to drink, don’t you? He never changed, at least not while I knew him.
But you know, I did learn a lot from David. I learned how to encourage people and really believe in them. If it hadn’t been for that fact, Steve might not be the wonderful man [as in, almost perfect] he is today [because he needed someone to believe in him and build him up, and he accepted that from me and used it to change himself...I think Stevie is a bit unusual in that, because most people refuse to change, even when they know they're completely screwed up and wrong].
I also learned that I can’t change anyone. I can offer them tools to change themselves [sometimes] but ultimately, they’re the ones who have to do the changing. I learned that I deserved better [lots better] than what he was capable of giving me [manipulative friendship was about all he could handle. As long as he was getting more than he was giving, it was a good day for David]. I kinda learned a bit about unconditional love, though, too. Not love as in God’s love for us, but human love [which isn't really unconditional, but can feel that way sometimes].
I was able to give to him because I cared, not because I expected anything in return, and I remembered how that felt and still try it from time to time to this day.
Of course, there was quite a bit of hurt and pain involved, too. I wanted him to love me back, as a ‘girlfriend’, and he never did. I think maybe I was one of those girls who make a good wife, but not a good girlfriend. David was 17 and 18 during this time, he wasn’t ready to have a wife yet [I was too young, too, but if he'd asked, I'd have said yes]. What was I thinking?!?
Still, I do make a good wife, and I didn’t make a good girlfriend, and it all worked out for the best.
I should tell you that when I was thinking about writing this, I had lots of stuff I was going to say, and then fatigue hit like a ton of bricks, and the second half of this was written in a semi-comatose state. So I apologize if I don’t make any sense.
I still dream about David from time to time, though, which is a little weird. We’re often in high school again. I used to forget about Steve and the kids, but the past few times I’ve dreamed about him, I’ve remembered that I’m married in the dream [and actually stayed faithful]. It’s weird to be in high school and married with three kids, lemme tell you!
Anyway, when I wake up after I dream about him, I always pray for him, where ever he is. Last I heard, he’d moved to KC somewhere. I hope he is happy and always ask God to keep him safe.
I think I was pregnant with Matthew the last time I actually saw him. Steve was driving, and Shaya was in her car seat, and I was about six months pregnant. Steve knows Davy was my first love, so it’s always a bit surreal when they meet. Now when I see Dave, the sadness and feeling of loss I used to have is gone, and I feel only a laughing fondness for my old school friend.
I also feel incredibly grateful for the man I married. David will always have a special place in my heart because he was a part of my life for so long, but I have no regrets about how things turned out. Steve is almost freaking perfect, and maybe I see him that way because I’m partly in love with his potential, but I’m okay with that. I also love who he is right now, and that’s why I have no regrets, because Steve is already better than I deserve, and if he gets better…wowee, an added bonus!
I think I have to sleep now. Good grief.
Flu Sucks
Ugh. Matthew started running a fever on Sunday morning. By Monday morning, Steve had it. Late Monday morning, Michaela had it. She cried and said she felt like she had a fever. She did. She asked to go to the doctor. I took her. Doc said we all had influenza, the wicked killer kind that everyone is getting.
He gave Steve and me samples of Tamiflu, and gave me scripts for all three kids, even though Shaya wasn’t sick yet, and neither was I. Our prescription plan sucks ass [$100 deductible per person in the family, with no family maximum. For those of you who are bad at math, or don't know how many people we have in our family, that's $500 deductible a year. Heh. We can't afford that, but whatever.]. The co-pay after the deductible is supposed to be that we pay 40% but that doesn’t happen every time. It’s only certain drugs, and naturally, my family sometimes needs meds that aren’t covered [non-formulary, whatever the fuck that means...I think it means they're cheap bastards, but that's just MHO].
So anyway, the bill for Tamiflu for just my kids? $200. If he hadn’t had samples, I couldn’t have gotten Steve’s and my prescriptions filled. That shit’s expensive! And I honestly don’t know if it did anything, but whatever.
Tuesday morning, Shaya was sick. I took care of everyone in the house. By Tuesday evening, Steve was coherent again, as was Matthew. Michaela was getting better, too. Shaya was still dying [she and Michaela threw up with this stuff, Matt had diarrhea and coughed his head off, and Steve was mostly coughing and aching bad enough that he just lay there and moaned most of Tuesday..so not fun for me]
Wednesday evening, after everyone was mostly recovered [except Shaya] the adventure began for me. Aches, pains, some coughing, a little nausea, and today, diarrhea. Let it be known that I hurt like hell, but refused to moan. I even got up in the middle of the night to get my own medicine [it's easier that way, trust me].
Steven is almost perfect as a husband. His reaction to his own illnesses takes away a couple of ‘perfection points.’ There are a couple of other things that drive me nuts [like why the hell has he been watching Walker, Texas Ranger lately? I think he does it to torture me. That definitely shaves off a couple more points!] but I didn’t come here to tell you this! The Walker thing is actually cute, even though it reaches new levels of annoying [is Chuck Norris the world's WORST actor or what?!?] And everyone is looking pretty shitty through these flu-dimmed eyes of mine. So don’t take it personally, Stevie. You know how much I love you! [and I did say, truthfully, that he's almost perfect. Way better than I ever thought of being, which I am currently proving by bitching, eh?].
I’ve been thinking for a while about writing a post, but damn. All I want to do is be a bitch and gripe about stuff. I’ve got snark, sarcasm, and meanness coming out my ears, and rather than plague you nice people with it, I’m going to sigh and sign off for now.
See you soon, I hope!
