This morning, Mal woke up early. raring to go to Target. When we got out, I realized that the 51 degree high for the day (yesterday was 85) had already been hit and the mercury was dropping. We ran by Chick-fil-A and got free chicken minis and a free "Sunrise" something that's basically just orange juice and soft serve mixed together, then went to the store. Mal picked out a couple of Cars, and on the way home, I got my free cow calendar treat for the month (which I couldn't order with the other free things, but two trips was no problem because it's in the Target parking lot), which was a chicken biscuit. James got the drink, D got the biscuit, and I offered the minis to Mal, who rejected, so I was forced to consume them.
When we got home. James was still in bed and, I have to tell you, I was not in the best head space about that. I'd already tweeted something snarky (which you can go see, because I'm not going to share it here, but I think I'm pretty funny), and just kept coming around to this thought I was repeating in my head about how, yes, I appreciate that James gets up early every morning during the week to go to work and support our family financially, but surely he realizes that even when I'm in bed when he leaves, I'm not asleep nor have I gotten much rest overnight and no, I don't want to fall into a "me or him" mentality but there is the fact that when our child is awake and one of us is asleep, the other one necessarily has to be awake, so would it be reasonable for me to hope that maybe my husband would offer just one Saturday a month where he would rise with the son and allow me a lie-in since he surely recognizes my contribution and desire for rest, also?
When James got up, he played with Mal while I made lunch. And did laundry. They were going outside, and I wanted to watch a video while I chopped stuff for the curry, but for some reason, it was taking FOREVER for them to get ready to go into the back yard, and so I loaded the dishwasher while I waited for the quiet, and then they finally went outside for like 4 minutes, as you might remember the temperature comment above.
THEN later, James asked Mal if he wanted to go down to the Cajun Festival at the park, so I drove them down and they were gone long enough for me to almost vacuum the whole house. Then James went back down there alone, and I have raging hormones right now, and my son is on 100% + at this general time, and... I needed a dang break.
"And the gods heard her prayer." To borrow a quote from "Once on This Island." Which is a different musical altogether, but we'll get to that.
Mal wanted to nurse. During the day. My mom made the comment, "I thought you were about through with nursing." WE WILL NEVER BE THROUGH. This is what they don't tell you when you have a squirmy newborn: If breastfeeding "takes," you will NEVER NEVER wean them. This is our life now.
Anyway, it turns out, he went to sleep at about 4:30. I was hoping this meant he was just feeling super stimulated from a busy week and might sleep all night, but even at 8:06 PM, we never know. It still looks promising, though.
SO, I got online and saw that the Easter performance of "Jesus Christ Superstar" Live in Concert was on YouTube.
I was vaguely aware of this show growing up, as we were a theater family. And while I don't remember hearing, "This is blasphemy!" about this particular show, as James does, we never really paid as much attention to it as we did Phantom or Les Mis or Into the Woods or Secret Garden.
When I was in college, though, majoring in theater with a concentration in musical theater, one of my classmates performed "Gethsemane" and I was absolutely floored. Totally sold on the whole thing. Listened to it a million times and loved it. I didn't enjoy the film too much, as it was so blatantly 70s, an aesthetic that I, ironically born in the early 70s, didn't embrace. (I'm sure the JCS I listened to was the revival, though I have adored Ted Neely's every dang performance.)
Watching this show was hugely cathartic. I sobbed at Pilate's initial song about his dream. I was transfixed by Brandon Victor Dixon as Judas every time he was on stage. Caiaphas was haunting. The musicians were flawless. The updates to the musical and visual style were fabulous. Sara Bareilles was genuine as Mary Magdalene, but there's no comparing her "I Don't Know How to Love Him" to Judas's reprise of the same song. Both she and John Legend, who played Jesus, are incredible singers and performers. And when they're the least memorable players in a production, you know it's top notch.
Oh, and Alice Cooper as King Herod? I literally gave him a standing ovation at my dining room table. His take on Herod was more "old school rock and roll" (to quote Andrew Lloyd Webber) than the kind of effeminate vaudeville style that is traditional. It was very satisfying to watch.
I felt more positively spiritually moved by that hour and 40 minutes than I have in years, I believe.
It's interesting to me the reaction of some people when new or "different" takes on familiar Bible stories come out. We do it with kids' books, making it available to them on their level. We do it in allegories and parables in study books to help drive home the point. But when the people from familiar Bible stories are presented as raw or urban or messed up, sometimes people's knee-jerk is to be offended and ignore the offering.
I find fresh eyes to be invigorating and thought-provoking.
The Bible isn't measured or tidy or easy to deal with. I think we get this white-washed version of Bible stories (meaning like paint, not like race, though we certainly do that, too) that make us thing that because people go to church and are generally quiet and respectful that it's the only honoring way to handle the material.
One thing I've appreciated about my pastor and the environment at my church this past year is their willingness to look at Scripture and literally ask, "What are we supposed to do with this?"
A funny thing... a few weeks ago, the scripture reading was from Numbers 21. Specifically: And the people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food." Then the LORD sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many people of Israel died. And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned, for we have spoken against the LORD and against you. Pray to the LORD, that he take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. And the LORD said to Moses, “Make a fiery serpent and set it on a pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.” So Moses made a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. And if a serpent bit anyone, he would look at the bronze serpent and live.
Typically, at the end of such a reading, one would say something to the extent of, "This is the Word of the Lord." The reader, who has been the accompanist at this church for more than 30 years, just shook her head and said, "This... is the book we... cherish." And everybody cracked up. Because, seriously. What?
I hope there's room for that in most Christian circles. I think it's healthy.
And how it's 8:30 and I should be heading toward bed, since we'll probably be up at 3 and Mal will be starting since he really didn't eat anything today. Oy.
I still appreciate a few quiet hours to myself.
And I love my husband, of course. He does a lot. I just needed the chance to get out from under that cloud of funk.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Saturday, April 7, 2018
Monday, May 29, 2017
No Forward Motion
We had a pretty, um, full day.
First thing this morning, I got the yard mowed. It wasn't super high, but some recent rains encouraged some pretty thick weeds that grew up practically overnight. I can't complain; it'd been almost a month since I mowed last.
As I was doing this, I was thinking-- well, more wallowing. I was wallowing in these thoughts: Our son will never use the toilet, sleep through the night, or wean.
I know, I know. He will. Probably. I also know that lots of boys don't potty train until 3 or 4. And that many kids don't sleep through the night until 5 or 6 or 7. And that most children, absent a pregnancy or encouragement by parents, will naturally wean about the time they lose their milk teeth. Realistically, I know all of that.
But truthfully, I had thought that, at this point, we'd be making some motion toward in maybe at least one or two of these areas. But no.
Is Mal breastfeeding less now than when he was a year old? During the day, yes. During the night, not at all. Is he breastfeeding less now than he was four months ago. Nope. We have days when we're busy and he nurses less. But at night, it's literally the only way he can go to sleep. Or back to sleep. Except that fluke two nights ago when he nodded off in the car while James ran in to get him clothes. But I digress.
There were a couple of encouraging weeks (or a month? I don't track it very well) when Mal was only waking up 2-3 times many nights. But we're back to 6 times or even, this week, a dozen times or more, which equals basically all night. And I'm spent before we ever even get out of bed in the morning.
Regarding the toilet, it's a big no on that one. We ask him if he wants to go, and he says, "NO!" Heck, he's even getting pissy (pun intended) about having his diaper changed, stating, "Mal wants to keep the dirty one!" It doesn't help that I read a thing that said to try to sit your kid on the toilet at least once a day at this age, because once they approach three years, they are apt to start believing that a diaper is where poop goes. Ay yi yi.
I'm not forcing him to sit on the toilet. I HAVE started being less territorial about the bathroom (even when it's that time of the month, and I'd REALLY love privacy) just to invite him to join me in sitting (we have training toilets in both bathrooms), and that's usually when he decides he doesn't really want to hang out with me in there, anyway, and leaves.
Just one thing? Some encouraging momentum on just one of those things? Please, universe??
Now.
After I mowed, I came in and was eating everything in the house to stave off a hypoglycemia attack (note to self: Two Pop Tarts are not adequate for 4 hours of yard work) and chatting with James. He jokingly said, "Is it too late just to lock Mal in his room after bedtime and let him figure it out for himself?"
And, of course, it made my stomach knot. Even knowing James wasn't serious.
Sometime in the past two weeks, we lost the receiver to our "baby" monitor. It likely fell into the recycling bin. I need to order a replacement. We didn't have to close Mal's door before we got a dog. But, once again, I digress.
Anyhoo, because I can't hear him when he first stirs, I haven't been going into his room as fast when he wakes at night. There have been a couple of times that, by the time I get in there, he is sitting up on the bed, quietly sobbing, shaking and covered in tears. No way I'd leave him to tire out in that state, so I know we're doing the right thing.
But I feel like we're in this holding pattern, no end in sight, circling, circling, ever circling.
For instance, I'm ready for a stinking family vacation, and we'd love to go on a cruise. But until Mal can sit through a meal (he cannot) or is potty trained so he can go to the kids club while we leisurely enjoy a meal, that's a no-go. And I'd love to sleep with my husband (except for the snoring) in an actual bed made for human grown-ups.
That sort of thing.
Thinking about it makes me tired, even though, as James so annoyingly illustrated, I am confident that keeping the course is the right thing for us to do.
On a happier note...
When I picked Mal up from childcare at church yesterday, a lady told me, "At first, when he was offered a snack, he said, 'No, thank you.' That is so great! You just don't hear that much anymore."
I think I said, "Oh, nice," or something equally awkward, because I'm never sure how to respond to that. "You're right! Other kids are jerks, but my kid is a perfect angel!"
But here's the truth: I have never encouraged Mal by telling him, "Say 'thank you,'" or "Tell him you're sorry," etc. And you know what? He says it, anyway. Because he sees people being polite, and he imitates them. He also watches Peppa Pig, and she answers, "Yes, please" to errythang.
He's a sweet kid, and I'm so glad (if exhausted) to be his mom. And I just ordered the replacement monitor, so should have it midweek.
After I mowed this morning, I came in and Mal said, "Mommy, dirty! Take a shower!" So I did. We hung out a while and I realized that our air conditioner wasn't working. Well, the compressor was, but the fan was out. That was a first, even though the a/c has gone out a few times since we moved in... but that was always the compressor, and it was always a breaker issue.
We turned everything off, in case we had a freezing situation, and ran out to the grocery store and to pick up some dinner. As we sat in the drive-through waiting, I realized two things: 1) That our air conditioner in the car is going out, and that I needed to turn off the car because, independent of that, the vehicle sounds like it's about to shake apart. 2) I had left my phone in the shopping cart at HEB.
I drove back to the store and ran inside, where my phone was, thankfully, waiting at customer service. I appreciate that whomever found it didn't decide to keep it and call my mom (who is in Alaska, anyway, and probably doesn't have service) to tell her they had my phone, and then take it home with them more than an hour from where I live, as happened a couple of years ago.
When we came back home, the a/c still wasn't working, so I called our home warranty to file a claim. After working on it for a bit longer, messing with breakers, including the "heat" one, and accidentally throwing the main breaker, too, the fan came back on! About an hour later, though, I went outside to take the garbage to the street -- today's high was supposed to be 81, but it was actually 86 and more than 70% humidity, so blehh. Glad I hadn't waited for the sun to come out and dry up the rain and dew before I mowed!
I came back inside from that sauna-fest and realized that our house was still icky, and in fact, worse. As it turns out, the compressor was out, so the unit was blowing blergh air around. I reset the breaker and, voila! Four hours later, it was tolerable in our house again.
So I'm ready for a laid-back day tomorrow. I'll bet James is, too. Too bad he has to lean back into that grindstone again... As they were saying on NPR today: A thoughtful Memorial Day to you all!
First thing this morning, I got the yard mowed. It wasn't super high, but some recent rains encouraged some pretty thick weeds that grew up practically overnight. I can't complain; it'd been almost a month since I mowed last.
As I was doing this, I was thinking-- well, more wallowing. I was wallowing in these thoughts: Our son will never use the toilet, sleep through the night, or wean.
I know, I know. He will. Probably. I also know that lots of boys don't potty train until 3 or 4. And that many kids don't sleep through the night until 5 or 6 or 7. And that most children, absent a pregnancy or encouragement by parents, will naturally wean about the time they lose their milk teeth. Realistically, I know all of that.
But truthfully, I had thought that, at this point, we'd be making some motion toward in maybe at least one or two of these areas. But no.
Is Mal breastfeeding less now than when he was a year old? During the day, yes. During the night, not at all. Is he breastfeeding less now than he was four months ago. Nope. We have days when we're busy and he nurses less. But at night, it's literally the only way he can go to sleep. Or back to sleep. Except that fluke two nights ago when he nodded off in the car while James ran in to get him clothes. But I digress.
There were a couple of encouraging weeks (or a month? I don't track it very well) when Mal was only waking up 2-3 times many nights. But we're back to 6 times or even, this week, a dozen times or more, which equals basically all night. And I'm spent before we ever even get out of bed in the morning.
Regarding the toilet, it's a big no on that one. We ask him if he wants to go, and he says, "NO!" Heck, he's even getting pissy (pun intended) about having his diaper changed, stating, "Mal wants to keep the dirty one!" It doesn't help that I read a thing that said to try to sit your kid on the toilet at least once a day at this age, because once they approach three years, they are apt to start believing that a diaper is where poop goes. Ay yi yi.
I'm not forcing him to sit on the toilet. I HAVE started being less territorial about the bathroom (even when it's that time of the month, and I'd REALLY love privacy) just to invite him to join me in sitting (we have training toilets in both bathrooms), and that's usually when he decides he doesn't really want to hang out with me in there, anyway, and leaves.
Just one thing? Some encouraging momentum on just one of those things? Please, universe??
Now.
After I mowed, I came in and was eating everything in the house to stave off a hypoglycemia attack (note to self: Two Pop Tarts are not adequate for 4 hours of yard work) and chatting with James. He jokingly said, "Is it too late just to lock Mal in his room after bedtime and let him figure it out for himself?"
And, of course, it made my stomach knot. Even knowing James wasn't serious.
Sometime in the past two weeks, we lost the receiver to our "baby" monitor. It likely fell into the recycling bin. I need to order a replacement. We didn't have to close Mal's door before we got a dog. But, once again, I digress.
Anyhoo, because I can't hear him when he first stirs, I haven't been going into his room as fast when he wakes at night. There have been a couple of times that, by the time I get in there, he is sitting up on the bed, quietly sobbing, shaking and covered in tears. No way I'd leave him to tire out in that state, so I know we're doing the right thing.
But I feel like we're in this holding pattern, no end in sight, circling, circling, ever circling.
For instance, I'm ready for a stinking family vacation, and we'd love to go on a cruise. But until Mal can sit through a meal (he cannot) or is potty trained so he can go to the kids club while we leisurely enjoy a meal, that's a no-go. And I'd love to sleep with my husband (except for the snoring) in an actual bed made for human grown-ups.
That sort of thing.
Thinking about it makes me tired, even though, as James so annoyingly illustrated, I am confident that keeping the course is the right thing for us to do.
On a happier note...
When I picked Mal up from childcare at church yesterday, a lady told me, "At first, when he was offered a snack, he said, 'No, thank you.' That is so great! You just don't hear that much anymore."
I think I said, "Oh, nice," or something equally awkward, because I'm never sure how to respond to that. "You're right! Other kids are jerks, but my kid is a perfect angel!"
But here's the truth: I have never encouraged Mal by telling him, "Say 'thank you,'" or "Tell him you're sorry," etc. And you know what? He says it, anyway. Because he sees people being polite, and he imitates them. He also watches Peppa Pig, and she answers, "Yes, please" to errythang.
He's a sweet kid, and I'm so glad (if exhausted) to be his mom. And I just ordered the replacement monitor, so should have it midweek.
After I mowed this morning, I came in and Mal said, "Mommy, dirty! Take a shower!" So I did. We hung out a while and I realized that our air conditioner wasn't working. Well, the compressor was, but the fan was out. That was a first, even though the a/c has gone out a few times since we moved in... but that was always the compressor, and it was always a breaker issue.
We turned everything off, in case we had a freezing situation, and ran out to the grocery store and to pick up some dinner. As we sat in the drive-through waiting, I realized two things: 1) That our air conditioner in the car is going out, and that I needed to turn off the car because, independent of that, the vehicle sounds like it's about to shake apart. 2) I had left my phone in the shopping cart at HEB.
I drove back to the store and ran inside, where my phone was, thankfully, waiting at customer service. I appreciate that whomever found it didn't decide to keep it and call my mom (who is in Alaska, anyway, and probably doesn't have service) to tell her they had my phone, and then take it home with them more than an hour from where I live, as happened a couple of years ago.
When we came back home, the a/c still wasn't working, so I called our home warranty to file a claim. After working on it for a bit longer, messing with breakers, including the "heat" one, and accidentally throwing the main breaker, too, the fan came back on! About an hour later, though, I went outside to take the garbage to the street -- today's high was supposed to be 81, but it was actually 86 and more than 70% humidity, so blehh. Glad I hadn't waited for the sun to come out and dry up the rain and dew before I mowed!
I came back inside from that sauna-fest and realized that our house was still icky, and in fact, worse. As it turns out, the compressor was out, so the unit was blowing blergh air around. I reset the breaker and, voila! Four hours later, it was tolerable in our house again.
So I'm ready for a laid-back day tomorrow. I'll bet James is, too. Too bad he has to lean back into that grindstone again... As they were saying on NPR today: A thoughtful Memorial Day to you all!
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Predicting the Past
Facebook Memories were fun yesterday...
Four years ago, I posted this:
Ahh... Nope.
(Incidentally, if you read that entry, "my friends" was one specific person in particular, and now I kind of want to go back and kick 2012 Laura's rear for giving a flying crud about it. Ahh well, hindsight.)
THEN, one year ago yesterday, I posted this:
Aaaand again... Nope.
When I pointed this out to James last night, he wondered if we could do this negatively and it would work. For instance, could I post, "We're definitely not winning Powerball this time! We aren't even buying a ticket!" Then two years from now when we read that, we would laugh so hard, our butler would have to bring us glasses of Diet Coke and beer (you guess who gets which).
Now, we're vaguely planning to buy a house in a year. We've already talked to a loan officer, and, man, was she about 1000 times awesomer than the stupid VA outfit we tried to use last year. That company didn't bother to tell us about a pretty substantial collection account that we were able to settle easy enough (since, you know, this new lady actually TOLD US ABOUT IT). And she's given us a lot of pointers about things to do between now and then to keep our credit squeaky clean.
But, really, who knows? Apparently, I can't even plan things for two days in advance (as you saw if you read about my failed lease-signing), so two years from this moment, I might not be blogging in my newish house. I might be on my way to Mars in a private space carrier. You don't know.
In other news, Mal is growing by leaps and bounds, developmentally. He's had a rough couple of weeks with teething/congestion, then a stomach bug that only lasted 24 hours but shied him away from eating food for nearly a week, and now teething/congestion again. BUT he's eaten more than ever the past two days, and he's insisting more and more upon feeding himself.
Also, he's finally putting his hand up to his mouth and smacking when he wants something to eat, so we have a really clear sign when he's hungry!
He is obsessed with his dad. He goes around every few hours, looking throughout the apartment and saying, "Daddy?" like maybe he got back home and sneaked in. Especially after Mal wakes up from his nap. Cute but a little sad because, man, James has some long days to get that every other Friday off. Thankfully, tomorrow is the actual Friday (which isn't his day off, but it is his payday, so it's still a good Friday), and Mal will get him for the whole weekend.
Our apartment is going to be "upgraded" next week. I thought they were doing it when our lease renews at the end of May, and I'm actually kind of glad they're doing it now and gave us short notice because that minimizes the time I have to feel anxiety about it. I did mention to the manager that we've worked really long and hard to come to a 1 o'clockish naptime and if they could get here early and be done by then, I'd love it. She thanked me for touching base and said she'd put us on the top of the list every day.
They're replacing our hard flooring with darker flooring I don't love, but it's supposed to be nicer; they're actually replacing all of the carpet on the bottom floors, too, with the same hard flooring, but they can't do that up here because they didn't do the proper sound insulation stuff when they built the building and it's too expensive to do now. I'm glad. I know lots of people hate carpet, but I love it. If I can afford nice rugs some day, maybe I'll get over my love for carpet. But for now, it's just more comfy to me.
They're also replacing our formica in the kitchen with granite. Fortunately, they're going dark-to-light with this switch-out, so the flooring won't bring down the brightness of the apartment too much. We're also getting a goose-neck sink, which Mal should love (eyeroll) and a new lighting fixture in the kitchen. That stupid thing now is the one thing I said I hated when we moved in. It is the one upgrade I'm really looking forward to.
Then they're putting in a white tile backsplash all the way from the countertop to the cabinets, so that'll be useful. And trimming out our mirrors in the bathroom, because... well, who cares? I guess someone does.
It will be interesting to see how much our rent goes up at renewal because of these things. They're upgrades, see? Our downstairs neighbor said that she's heard increases as much as $200 a month. That'll suck bigtime, but to more would be more than $2400, so we'll suck it up for a year.
It has nothing to do with anything, but if they try to raise it that much, it'll be tempting to ask how much we can deduct in past rent for the fact that our gated community has only been properly gated for about two months of the now 9 months we've lived here. Speaking of that, when I worked as a property manager in Las Vegas, it seemed like the gates were always causing problems. Does anyone live anywhere that the gates are actually functional the majority of the time? And by "functional," that includes the ability of people to call you from the gate and you to open the gate from your house. Because we've NEVER been able to do that. But we haven't made too big of a deal about it because I just tell everyone who's coming over what is supposed to be the super secret master gate code.
I have thoughts a lot, and I think I want to blog more. I have started about 5 blog posts and had to stop when Mal woke up and then never cared enough to finish them (most are about parenting, and you guys don't give a wet carp about that), but often when I can just sit, I mostly want to veg out, plan our mini-trips, or catch up on a sitcom. That's who I am now. Maybe I'll have more energy to blog in a year or so.
Oh, but I want to do something big for Easter for my daughter. Don't tell her. But if you know where to get the biggest, highest-quality chocolate bunny (read: not Palmer's), let me know!
Four years ago, I posted this:
Ahh... Nope.
(Incidentally, if you read that entry, "my friends" was one specific person in particular, and now I kind of want to go back and kick 2012 Laura's rear for giving a flying crud about it. Ahh well, hindsight.)
THEN, one year ago yesterday, I posted this:
When I pointed this out to James last night, he wondered if we could do this negatively and it would work. For instance, could I post, "We're definitely not winning Powerball this time! We aren't even buying a ticket!" Then two years from now when we read that, we would laugh so hard, our butler would have to bring us glasses of Diet Coke and beer (you guess who gets which).
Now, we're vaguely planning to buy a house in a year. We've already talked to a loan officer, and, man, was she about 1000 times awesomer than the stupid VA outfit we tried to use last year. That company didn't bother to tell us about a pretty substantial collection account that we were able to settle easy enough (since, you know, this new lady actually TOLD US ABOUT IT). And she's given us a lot of pointers about things to do between now and then to keep our credit squeaky clean.
But, really, who knows? Apparently, I can't even plan things for two days in advance (as you saw if you read about my failed lease-signing), so two years from this moment, I might not be blogging in my newish house. I might be on my way to Mars in a private space carrier. You don't know.
In other news, Mal is growing by leaps and bounds, developmentally. He's had a rough couple of weeks with teething/congestion, then a stomach bug that only lasted 24 hours but shied him away from eating food for nearly a week, and now teething/congestion again. BUT he's eaten more than ever the past two days, and he's insisting more and more upon feeding himself.
Also, he's finally putting his hand up to his mouth and smacking when he wants something to eat, so we have a really clear sign when he's hungry!
He is obsessed with his dad. He goes around every few hours, looking throughout the apartment and saying, "Daddy?" like maybe he got back home and sneaked in. Especially after Mal wakes up from his nap. Cute but a little sad because, man, James has some long days to get that every other Friday off. Thankfully, tomorrow is the actual Friday (which isn't his day off, but it is his payday, so it's still a good Friday), and Mal will get him for the whole weekend.
Our apartment is going to be "upgraded" next week. I thought they were doing it when our lease renews at the end of May, and I'm actually kind of glad they're doing it now and gave us short notice because that minimizes the time I have to feel anxiety about it. I did mention to the manager that we've worked really long and hard to come to a 1 o'clockish naptime and if they could get here early and be done by then, I'd love it. She thanked me for touching base and said she'd put us on the top of the list every day.
They're replacing our hard flooring with darker flooring I don't love, but it's supposed to be nicer; they're actually replacing all of the carpet on the bottom floors, too, with the same hard flooring, but they can't do that up here because they didn't do the proper sound insulation stuff when they built the building and it's too expensive to do now. I'm glad. I know lots of people hate carpet, but I love it. If I can afford nice rugs some day, maybe I'll get over my love for carpet. But for now, it's just more comfy to me.
They're also replacing our formica in the kitchen with granite. Fortunately, they're going dark-to-light with this switch-out, so the flooring won't bring down the brightness of the apartment too much. We're also getting a goose-neck sink, which Mal should love (eyeroll) and a new lighting fixture in the kitchen. That stupid thing now is the one thing I said I hated when we moved in. It is the one upgrade I'm really looking forward to.
Then they're putting in a white tile backsplash all the way from the countertop to the cabinets, so that'll be useful. And trimming out our mirrors in the bathroom, because... well, who cares? I guess someone does.
It will be interesting to see how much our rent goes up at renewal because of these things. They're upgrades, see? Our downstairs neighbor said that she's heard increases as much as $200 a month. That'll suck bigtime, but to more would be more than $2400, so we'll suck it up for a year.
It has nothing to do with anything, but if they try to raise it that much, it'll be tempting to ask how much we can deduct in past rent for the fact that our gated community has only been properly gated for about two months of the now 9 months we've lived here. Speaking of that, when I worked as a property manager in Las Vegas, it seemed like the gates were always causing problems. Does anyone live anywhere that the gates are actually functional the majority of the time? And by "functional," that includes the ability of people to call you from the gate and you to open the gate from your house. Because we've NEVER been able to do that. But we haven't made too big of a deal about it because I just tell everyone who's coming over what is supposed to be the super secret master gate code.
I have thoughts a lot, and I think I want to blog more. I have started about 5 blog posts and had to stop when Mal woke up and then never cared enough to finish them (most are about parenting, and you guys don't give a wet carp about that), but often when I can just sit, I mostly want to veg out, plan our mini-trips, or catch up on a sitcom. That's who I am now. Maybe I'll have more energy to blog in a year or so.
Oh, but I want to do something big for Easter for my daughter. Don't tell her. But if you know where to get the biggest, highest-quality chocolate bunny (read: not Palmer's), let me know!
Monday, July 28, 2014
A New Vlog Entry (the 10th!) Touring the Nursery
Here we are at 34 weeks and some change, and Rooby is on the move. Nearly constantly. Also, I am having contractions all of the time. Fortunately, the contractions aren't painful; they're not even uncomfortable. The baby's moving is usually fine, just weird, except when the movements poke up against an internal organ.
Also, the originally-named hormone relaxin is at work, and sometimes I have to stop want I'm doing to breathe through a brief ligament stretch.
Other than that, I'm as healthy as always. Normal (low) blood pressure and pulse, ease of mobility, holding chiropractic adjustments, and trying to get as much bike-riding in as possible. Exercise, except for swimming, has to happen before or after 8 AM and 8 PM, as the temperature plus humidity plus UV means daylight is out for anything but water activities, preferably indoors or at one of the cold venues like Deep Eddy or the Barton Springs pool. James and I walk together to some places on the weekend, but it's really disgusting outside.
I'm on track to gain about 25 pounds this pregnancy, which will put me at about 20 pounds less than I weighed when I gave birth to Daphne. I'm not too worried about any of that, though, because I'm feeling awesome and doing so well.
When I went to the chiropractor today, I felt bad for the other pregnant lady there. She was having a difficult time getting up and around, and breathing heavily while sitting there. I feel very fortunate, and pray that my health and well-being foreshadows positive outcomes for Rooby, despite the fact that James and I are older.
Anyhoo, here's the promised vlog update! Come look at the nursery.
Also, the originally-named hormone relaxin is at work, and sometimes I have to stop want I'm doing to breathe through a brief ligament stretch.
Other than that, I'm as healthy as always. Normal (low) blood pressure and pulse, ease of mobility, holding chiropractic adjustments, and trying to get as much bike-riding in as possible. Exercise, except for swimming, has to happen before or after 8 AM and 8 PM, as the temperature plus humidity plus UV means daylight is out for anything but water activities, preferably indoors or at one of the cold venues like Deep Eddy or the Barton Springs pool. James and I walk together to some places on the weekend, but it's really disgusting outside.
I'm on track to gain about 25 pounds this pregnancy, which will put me at about 20 pounds less than I weighed when I gave birth to Daphne. I'm not too worried about any of that, though, because I'm feeling awesome and doing so well.
When I went to the chiropractor today, I felt bad for the other pregnant lady there. She was having a difficult time getting up and around, and breathing heavily while sitting there. I feel very fortunate, and pray that my health and well-being foreshadows positive outcomes for Rooby, despite the fact that James and I are older.
Anyhoo, here's the promised vlog update! Come look at the nursery.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
A Better Kind of Different
There is a pretty interesting vortex of things "working" on me right now.
The first is that it's National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo, for short; or NaNo, for shorter). As you know, James is participating. I am not. I was recently thinking about the NaNo M.O. of "Sorry, it has to wait until December" and mulling over the fact that I find that an excuse to be rude, and how that's not okay. Mostly, I was licking my own wounds because, this might come as a shock to you, but I have some pretty high needs (and, in James' case, expectations) in a relationship. November is always one of my favorite months. But I don't like being put off, even in good humor and even knowing it's temporary.
By the way, James won't read this post, so it's not a passive/aggressive missive to him. He won't read it because it's November. He won't read it because he doesn't read my blog, anyway, unless I tell him that there's something in there that he really needs to see. He only reads tech blogs, and as much as I want to please him, I can't even fathom that.
Go, Linux! (There. Maybe he'll see it. *shrug*)
A week ago, I went to bed on Tuesday at about 9:00 PM because I was in a snit and didn't want to get any of it on my family. I wasn't particularly tired, so I ended up getting a lot of praying in. And I felt better Wednesday morning.
It's a revelation when I don't say words I want to say that, miraculously, they can dissipate over time. They don't *have* to be said. Incredible.
This weekend, I even wrote a short letter. Which I didn't give James. I deleted it. But last night and this morning struck me the most, and that's when I started thinking about why and how I am sucking up a lot of what I'm "feeling" right now, and how that's playing out in one of the main goals of my life, which is to love James completely and perfectly (read: without self-seeking, pettiness, etc.).
First of all, Daphne and I re-started Bible Study Fellowship in September. We're studying Matthew, and particularly, for the past few weeks, the Sermon on the Mount and Jesus' healing ministry. Secondly, I just finished reading a book entitled "Jesus Feminist." I was about to say "Finally," but there's one more after this. Anyway, thirdly, Daphne and I are listening to "The Hiding Place." AND, finally, everything always at my church is about reconciliation and renewal, large scale and small.
Last year, before NaNoWriMo, when James was still living in Dallas, he warned me about his singular focus during this month. I told him that I wasn't sure I could handle an entire month of his preoccupation. He said, "You will. Because you know it's important to me."
I don't know if he meant this as a reprimand or a misplaced affirmation of faith, but I determined to make him right, When I went to bed early last Tuesday, it was with that phrase repeating over and over in my head: "You know it's important to me..."
But then last night, and this morning, my silence when I felt hurt or passed over was due to a slightly different motivation.
In Corrie ten Boom's history, long before her family's involvement in the Nazi regime, a young man after whom she had pined for most of her life showed up on her doorstep, engaged to a woman of means. Her father, rather than comforting her that there might be other loves in her life, encouraged her to ask God to help her love this young man with His love (rather than trying to stop loving him). She did this, she asked God to help her love this man as he did, to the point that she could be genuinely happy for him and his family.
And in hearing that, several things hit me at once:
1) I want to love James perfectly, and I'm absolutely unable to do it in my own strength. I am much too concerned about whether or not things are the way that I feel are "right" or whether or not I'm getting "enough" attention. The only way I'm going to be able to love James the way that I want to is through the example of Jesus and the empowerment of the Holy Spirit. I'd posted a Dr. Laura quote on Facebook the other day, something to the extent of "Every morning, ask, 'What can I do to make him happy he's alive?' and 'What can I do to make him happy he's married to me?'" This is what I want for him.
2) This is a transcendent relationship. I know that being married is work, and constant attention, and refinement. But our relationship doesn't feel like swimming upstream against a torrent of white water and rain and locusts and bullets and fire bombs. It's, dare I say it, pretty comfortable and easy. I don't have to fight. I don't have to wrangle for affection or acknowledgement. James gives these things freely. Why is it still my tendency to fight? Isn't fighting for something that's already being granted (at his time and pleasure) basically inviting resentment and withholding of the very thing that is most important to my heart? Plus, it creates the opposite atmosphere of the one I want to have in our house. And so, I need to re-calibrate and stop defaulting to struggle mode.
3) It's a marathon, not a sprint. Sometimes, it's difficult for me to rest in the fact that we have years and years together. Last summer, I went up to Dallas to visit James, and a really neat surprise I had for him fell through. I was bummed because he had all of these awesome stories of adventure and fun with other people in his life, and I desperately wanted some of those cool memories. A year later, we have a few. We're constantly making more. It takes time. We have time. James might come home every night this month and lose himself in his novel, but he's still sleeping by my side. He still takes every opportunity to tell me how much he appreciates me. And there's always December. And January. And 11 whole other months, every year for the next few decades. I find peace in that. I need to be able to rest in it.
4) The more I stop myself from saying what's on my mind, the easier it is. The more I fight my selfish impulses and demands, the less powerful they become. Last night, I went in to the office to tell James goodnight, and he indicated that he'd still be a while. I thought of a lot of stuff I could have said. Mostly manipulative stuff that wouldn't have made him pack it in for the night, but certainly would have been meant to take the shine off of his enjoyment at least a little bit. Instead, I kissed him, I turned around, and I went to bed.
This morning, I got his breakfast ready and he sat down to eat it. I was cleaning out the sink and asking myself why I wasn't sitting with him when what I craved most was his company. At first, I reasoned that if I sat down right now, I'd be too tempted to complain about how little I see of him right now. Then I realized that was an excuse, and I was avoiding him as a stupid baby kind of payback. So I sat with him and enjoyed him very much... until I said something that he wanted to research. He got up and disappeared into his office. He always says I'm quick-witted, but really, I'm mostly quick-tongued. With the words, "If I'd known that would make you get up and come in here, I never would have said it" in my mouth, I walked to the doorway of his office... and stopped. Why throw those darts? So I kept silent. A few moments later, James came out of his office, frustrated with a problem he was having with the computer. My words would have added to his stress. Instead, he could focus being irritated on the computer, and still think I was wonderful.
I hope it just gets easier and easier until I don't even feel those self-focused impulses anymore. It's true that I want my husband around. He's pretty awesome, and his company is my favorite. But he has given and sacrificed and changed and worked so hard for me... for us. I can give him this. I can give him this month. He deserves it. Eventually, it won't be such a struggle to "act nice" about it; I want to "feel nice" about it. I love him. He loves me. We have time. We have each other.
The first is that it's National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo, for short; or NaNo, for shorter). As you know, James is participating. I am not. I was recently thinking about the NaNo M.O. of "Sorry, it has to wait until December" and mulling over the fact that I find that an excuse to be rude, and how that's not okay. Mostly, I was licking my own wounds because, this might come as a shock to you, but I have some pretty high needs (and, in James' case, expectations) in a relationship. November is always one of my favorite months. But I don't like being put off, even in good humor and even knowing it's temporary.
By the way, James won't read this post, so it's not a passive/aggressive missive to him. He won't read it because it's November. He won't read it because he doesn't read my blog, anyway, unless I tell him that there's something in there that he really needs to see. He only reads tech blogs, and as much as I want to please him, I can't even fathom that.
Go, Linux! (There. Maybe he'll see it. *shrug*)
A week ago, I went to bed on Tuesday at about 9:00 PM because I was in a snit and didn't want to get any of it on my family. I wasn't particularly tired, so I ended up getting a lot of praying in. And I felt better Wednesday morning.
It's a revelation when I don't say words I want to say that, miraculously, they can dissipate over time. They don't *have* to be said. Incredible.
This weekend, I even wrote a short letter. Which I didn't give James. I deleted it. But last night and this morning struck me the most, and that's when I started thinking about why and how I am sucking up a lot of what I'm "feeling" right now, and how that's playing out in one of the main goals of my life, which is to love James completely and perfectly (read: without self-seeking, pettiness, etc.).
First of all, Daphne and I re-started Bible Study Fellowship in September. We're studying Matthew, and particularly, for the past few weeks, the Sermon on the Mount and Jesus' healing ministry. Secondly, I just finished reading a book entitled "Jesus Feminist." I was about to say "Finally," but there's one more after this. Anyway, thirdly, Daphne and I are listening to "The Hiding Place." AND, finally, everything always at my church is about reconciliation and renewal, large scale and small.
Last year, before NaNoWriMo, when James was still living in Dallas, he warned me about his singular focus during this month. I told him that I wasn't sure I could handle an entire month of his preoccupation. He said, "You will. Because you know it's important to me."
I don't know if he meant this as a reprimand or a misplaced affirmation of faith, but I determined to make him right, When I went to bed early last Tuesday, it was with that phrase repeating over and over in my head: "You know it's important to me..."
But then last night, and this morning, my silence when I felt hurt or passed over was due to a slightly different motivation.
In Corrie ten Boom's history, long before her family's involvement in the Nazi regime, a young man after whom she had pined for most of her life showed up on her doorstep, engaged to a woman of means. Her father, rather than comforting her that there might be other loves in her life, encouraged her to ask God to help her love this young man with His love (rather than trying to stop loving him). She did this, she asked God to help her love this man as he did, to the point that she could be genuinely happy for him and his family.
And in hearing that, several things hit me at once:
1) I want to love James perfectly, and I'm absolutely unable to do it in my own strength. I am much too concerned about whether or not things are the way that I feel are "right" or whether or not I'm getting "enough" attention. The only way I'm going to be able to love James the way that I want to is through the example of Jesus and the empowerment of the Holy Spirit. I'd posted a Dr. Laura quote on Facebook the other day, something to the extent of "Every morning, ask, 'What can I do to make him happy he's alive?' and 'What can I do to make him happy he's married to me?'" This is what I want for him.
2) This is a transcendent relationship. I know that being married is work, and constant attention, and refinement. But our relationship doesn't feel like swimming upstream against a torrent of white water and rain and locusts and bullets and fire bombs. It's, dare I say it, pretty comfortable and easy. I don't have to fight. I don't have to wrangle for affection or acknowledgement. James gives these things freely. Why is it still my tendency to fight? Isn't fighting for something that's already being granted (at his time and pleasure) basically inviting resentment and withholding of the very thing that is most important to my heart? Plus, it creates the opposite atmosphere of the one I want to have in our house. And so, I need to re-calibrate and stop defaulting to struggle mode.
3) It's a marathon, not a sprint. Sometimes, it's difficult for me to rest in the fact that we have years and years together. Last summer, I went up to Dallas to visit James, and a really neat surprise I had for him fell through. I was bummed because he had all of these awesome stories of adventure and fun with other people in his life, and I desperately wanted some of those cool memories. A year later, we have a few. We're constantly making more. It takes time. We have time. James might come home every night this month and lose himself in his novel, but he's still sleeping by my side. He still takes every opportunity to tell me how much he appreciates me. And there's always December. And January. And 11 whole other months, every year for the next few decades. I find peace in that. I need to be able to rest in it.
4) The more I stop myself from saying what's on my mind, the easier it is. The more I fight my selfish impulses and demands, the less powerful they become. Last night, I went in to the office to tell James goodnight, and he indicated that he'd still be a while. I thought of a lot of stuff I could have said. Mostly manipulative stuff that wouldn't have made him pack it in for the night, but certainly would have been meant to take the shine off of his enjoyment at least a little bit. Instead, I kissed him, I turned around, and I went to bed.
This morning, I got his breakfast ready and he sat down to eat it. I was cleaning out the sink and asking myself why I wasn't sitting with him when what I craved most was his company. At first, I reasoned that if I sat down right now, I'd be too tempted to complain about how little I see of him right now. Then I realized that was an excuse, and I was avoiding him as a stupid baby kind of payback. So I sat with him and enjoyed him very much... until I said something that he wanted to research. He got up and disappeared into his office. He always says I'm quick-witted, but really, I'm mostly quick-tongued. With the words, "If I'd known that would make you get up and come in here, I never would have said it" in my mouth, I walked to the doorway of his office... and stopped. Why throw those darts? So I kept silent. A few moments later, James came out of his office, frustrated with a problem he was having with the computer. My words would have added to his stress. Instead, he could focus being irritated on the computer, and still think I was wonderful.
I hope it just gets easier and easier until I don't even feel those self-focused impulses anymore. It's true that I want my husband around. He's pretty awesome, and his company is my favorite. But he has given and sacrificed and changed and worked so hard for me... for us. I can give him this. I can give him this month. He deserves it. Eventually, it won't be such a struggle to "act nice" about it; I want to "feel nice" about it. I love him. He loves me. We have time. We have each other.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
His Grace Reaches Me
I've been struggling lately with the grand ideas of reconciliation, condemnation, forgiveness, repentance, and holiness. Sounds like fun, right?
After a hiatus of several years, I started back to Bible Study Fellowship last week, and this session, we're studying Matthew. It's one of those books that I've read over and over again, but something hit me this week that I hadn't noticed before: Salmon. I understand that it's odd that the genealogy in Matthew 1 includes women, and so when I've read that passage before, I've always focused on the women in the line. I never noticed before that Rahab's husband was named. Salmon.
I wondered about his story. According to this wonderful study of Rahab from Bible Gateway, Salmon was one of the spies sent into Jericho. That appears to be a Jewish tradition thing and I don't know whether I'd put much stock in it. Regardless of that, though, at some point, this fairly prominent Jew purposefully took a former prostitute and a former foreigner as his wife.
What hit me was that Rahab was not defined by her past, nor was she seen as a foreigner once she sided with the Jews. She was adopted into the tribe, and she was a part of them. That is huge, but the thing that overwhelmed me was just that it's one thing to have a group of people invite you into become a part of their family, but it's a whole other thing to have a single person pledge the rest of his life to you, regardless of where you've been.
When I was reading the text notes from BSF today, I cried all the way through the explanations of the five women included in the genealogy. Like Tamar, I have struggled with waiting for God to fulfill his promises; I have taken matters into my own hands, and used "sinful methods" (as the notes described Tamar's actions in deceiving her father-in-law) as a means to an end I still believe in. Like Rahab, I have heard of God's doings and have desperately wanted to be a part, even if I wasn't sure how to do it. Like "the former wife of Uriah," I have been married before. I have made sinful choices, and I have also been the subject of a LOT of calculated character defamation. I always wonder about Bathsheba: How much of a choice did she have? When the King of Israel calls for you, do you have the option of declining? Maybe she was flattered, or even attracted... But maybe she felt like the path of least resistance was the only option. Who knows. I guess we'll never know for sure, just like no one but a select few will ever know my whole story... but, dang, if people don't make opinions and label me, anyway. And, yes, I realize that a lot of this is my own fault. Hence the struggles...
For instance, I am convicted that I owe my ex-husband some apologies. And I wrestle with when and how that is appropriate. I like to think that I hold nothing against him, having forgiven him and wishing he'd forgive me, but any time I imagine an apology, it sounds an awful lot like blaming him for the wrongs I foisted upon him. So, clearly, I'm not ready for that yet.
I also live with the tension of knowing that there are people with whom I can never make amends. I can't fix things that happened, things that I did, mistakes I made, and hurts that were incurred as a part of that. I am a closure person. I like for things to be tidy and to make sense. And sometimes they don't. That whole "In as much as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone" verse? Sometimes, the only way to peace is to break fellowship, and that's the worst thing ever. It's one reason I take very personally "unfriending" on Facebook. If there's a problem, let's talk it over and fix it! Some things can't be fixed, and that's a difficult reality.
Adding to all of that is an outer condemnation. In the past, I was asked to do things to try to make circumstances right that I knew, because of my own involvement in my life, were not going to work. I know that, to others, I appeared to be rebellious, callous, cold, and stubborn. The truth is that I *am* stubborn and often rebellious. If I end a relationship, though, it is always after much trying and anxiety and attempts to reconcile, and then there is a point where I see that there is not any headway being made, and the only fix is out. When that happens, especially if you care a lot about a person, you kind of have to harden your own heart in order to separate from them. I've done that a few times in the past few years, and inevitably, I later soften... but I know that it was the right thing. Still, I wrestle with knowing that people think I'm a bad person, or a bad Christian. I know my heart, and God knows it, and we have worked through a lot of garbage in the past three years.
It was only after separating from everything and moving away that I was able to admit (at my first week of small group in Austin, no less, to a bunch of practical strangers) that I sometimes wish I'd just died when my testimony was awesome: Destroyed first marriage redeemed by later faithfulness and rich ministry through the arts. Second marriage past the point of no return turned around and enriched by God. Praise Him! He can work miracles!
And he can. And he does. But then... more happened. There were no closing credits, and things got bad... And I never doubted God's faithfulness. I certainly doubted my own. I certainly dealt with other people's guidance that I know was based on love for me and for the Scriptures but that was given without insight into the whole situation. I certainly disappointed a lot of people, and myself, and likely God...
But then this genealogy. It stands as a reminder that God takes messes and rebuilds lives into something of beauty. He's done it in my life over and over again. Standing at the end and looking back, that's the fun part. The slogging through the low times is not. It's excruciating. Especially when much of it is your own fault, and you have no one to blame but yourself.
The bloodlines of Mary and Joseph in Matthew and Luke stand as a reminder that God is in the business of doing his own will, and he uses who he wills. There might even still be a place in there for me.
After a hiatus of several years, I started back to Bible Study Fellowship last week, and this session, we're studying Matthew. It's one of those books that I've read over and over again, but something hit me this week that I hadn't noticed before: Salmon. I understand that it's odd that the genealogy in Matthew 1 includes women, and so when I've read that passage before, I've always focused on the women in the line. I never noticed before that Rahab's husband was named. Salmon.
I wondered about his story. According to this wonderful study of Rahab from Bible Gateway, Salmon was one of the spies sent into Jericho. That appears to be a Jewish tradition thing and I don't know whether I'd put much stock in it. Regardless of that, though, at some point, this fairly prominent Jew purposefully took a former prostitute and a former foreigner as his wife.
What hit me was that Rahab was not defined by her past, nor was she seen as a foreigner once she sided with the Jews. She was adopted into the tribe, and she was a part of them. That is huge, but the thing that overwhelmed me was just that it's one thing to have a group of people invite you into become a part of their family, but it's a whole other thing to have a single person pledge the rest of his life to you, regardless of where you've been.
When I was reading the text notes from BSF today, I cried all the way through the explanations of the five women included in the genealogy. Like Tamar, I have struggled with waiting for God to fulfill his promises; I have taken matters into my own hands, and used "sinful methods" (as the notes described Tamar's actions in deceiving her father-in-law) as a means to an end I still believe in. Like Rahab, I have heard of God's doings and have desperately wanted to be a part, even if I wasn't sure how to do it. Like "the former wife of Uriah," I have been married before. I have made sinful choices, and I have also been the subject of a LOT of calculated character defamation. I always wonder about Bathsheba: How much of a choice did she have? When the King of Israel calls for you, do you have the option of declining? Maybe she was flattered, or even attracted... But maybe she felt like the path of least resistance was the only option. Who knows. I guess we'll never know for sure, just like no one but a select few will ever know my whole story... but, dang, if people don't make opinions and label me, anyway. And, yes, I realize that a lot of this is my own fault. Hence the struggles...
For instance, I am convicted that I owe my ex-husband some apologies. And I wrestle with when and how that is appropriate. I like to think that I hold nothing against him, having forgiven him and wishing he'd forgive me, but any time I imagine an apology, it sounds an awful lot like blaming him for the wrongs I foisted upon him. So, clearly, I'm not ready for that yet.
I also live with the tension of knowing that there are people with whom I can never make amends. I can't fix things that happened, things that I did, mistakes I made, and hurts that were incurred as a part of that. I am a closure person. I like for things to be tidy and to make sense. And sometimes they don't. That whole "In as much as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone" verse? Sometimes, the only way to peace is to break fellowship, and that's the worst thing ever. It's one reason I take very personally "unfriending" on Facebook. If there's a problem, let's talk it over and fix it! Some things can't be fixed, and that's a difficult reality.
Adding to all of that is an outer condemnation. In the past, I was asked to do things to try to make circumstances right that I knew, because of my own involvement in my life, were not going to work. I know that, to others, I appeared to be rebellious, callous, cold, and stubborn. The truth is that I *am* stubborn and often rebellious. If I end a relationship, though, it is always after much trying and anxiety and attempts to reconcile, and then there is a point where I see that there is not any headway being made, and the only fix is out. When that happens, especially if you care a lot about a person, you kind of have to harden your own heart in order to separate from them. I've done that a few times in the past few years, and inevitably, I later soften... but I know that it was the right thing. Still, I wrestle with knowing that people think I'm a bad person, or a bad Christian. I know my heart, and God knows it, and we have worked through a lot of garbage in the past three years.
It was only after separating from everything and moving away that I was able to admit (at my first week of small group in Austin, no less, to a bunch of practical strangers) that I sometimes wish I'd just died when my testimony was awesome: Destroyed first marriage redeemed by later faithfulness and rich ministry through the arts. Second marriage past the point of no return turned around and enriched by God. Praise Him! He can work miracles!
And he can. And he does. But then... more happened. There were no closing credits, and things got bad... And I never doubted God's faithfulness. I certainly doubted my own. I certainly dealt with other people's guidance that I know was based on love for me and for the Scriptures but that was given without insight into the whole situation. I certainly disappointed a lot of people, and myself, and likely God...
But then this genealogy. It stands as a reminder that God takes messes and rebuilds lives into something of beauty. He's done it in my life over and over again. Standing at the end and looking back, that's the fun part. The slogging through the low times is not. It's excruciating. Especially when much of it is your own fault, and you have no one to blame but yourself.
The bloodlines of Mary and Joseph in Matthew and Luke stand as a reminder that God is in the business of doing his own will, and he uses who he wills. There might even still be a place in there for me.
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