The One About the Girl With the Sharp Tongue Who Sometimes Cuts Her Own Throat...

OK, so… Boy, I seem to start a lot of my writings that way :-) 

But anyway…

Yes, it’s been a long several months since I last published anything; no, I’m not going to go into a lengthy explanation of the whys and wherefores of where I’ve been.  I will say this, though: Several months back, I read a blog post that a friend of mine shared about being careful not to spend so much time blogging about our lives that we forget to live them, and it really hit home for me.  So, I’ve been taking some time off from blogging and just kind of focusing on simply living life each day with my family and friends.  And life has been exceptionally busy this year, so… Yep.  That’s where I’ve been :-)

So, tonight, I was sitting here on the couch in our new apartment (we moved over the summer… yeah, that was actually one of the more fun parts of the busyness :-D ), listening to iTunes and working on my mental list of people I now owe apologies to for running my mouth (What?  Don’t tell me I’m the ONLY person out there who does that every once in a while… ^_^ ), and this song came on:

I’m like a promise, I’m like a promise
I’m like a promise broken every time I open my mouth
Open my mouth, I open my mouth

OK, yeah… That’s me, right there, encapsulated in a single sentence.  It’s like I know I’ve got so much potential in me to do good, to do the right things, to love people and treat them like I want to be treated….

And then I open my mouth and all that promise just gets hurled to the ground and shattered into shards of glass that fly everywhere and cut the people who most need me to be gentle with them.  The Bible says in James 3 that the tongue steers our life like the rudder of a ship, that unlike any other wild animal, we cannot seem to tame it, no matter how hard we try.  The human tongue is like a flame that sets the forest ablaze; in my case, it seems more like a scalpel that strips the skin away and leaves the nerves frayed and loose and open to all the grit of daily life…

Under the surface, under the surface
Under the surface sometimes I wanna slip right out of my skin
Out of my, slip right out of my skin

Sometimes, when I hear the words that come out of my mouth, all I want to do is find a way to pretend that I’m really someone else, a good twin who can deny all knowledge of anything “that other person” has said.  I wish there was someone else that I could shrug my shoulders for and say, “No, that wasn’t me… Must have been that other chick who just happens to look like me and live around here.  I think I saw her go off in that direction…”  Maybe, just maybe, 38 years ago, my mom actually gave birth to identical twins in secret, and then the government wiped her memory and took one of the twins away to train her as a black-leather-and-spandex-clad secret assassin, and now there’s some kind of super-secret spy agent out there who looks exactly like me (only in leather and spandex... which I, for the record, would never wear together...) and is now running around all over the Chehalem Valley doing whatever she can with her words to mess up my life and my relationships and my reputation so she can murder me and bury me under the new patio in the backyard and then seamlessly take over my life…

No, wait… that’s a show on Netflix.  Never mind.

Well, until my clones start showing up on my doorstep, I guess I’m stuck with the knowledge that, nope, it’s just me using my own tongue as a weapon of mass destruction to take out half the population of Newberg.  Sigh…

And tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Break into pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start

Now there’s the hope in the situation…  God doesn’t expect me to be perfect all the time.  God doesn’t expect me to be perfect any of the time.  Which is really good, because I’ve always sucked at perfection (just ask my sister… the real one, not the long-hoped for evil twin one ^_^ )  But when I get to the point where I’ve completely FUBARed things, that’s where God can come in and make the biggest difference.  Not that I should go around trying to screw everything up… but since I seem to be so darned good at it sometimes, it helps to know that God can salvage anything and turn it into something beautiful in His way and time :-)

Do you remember, do you remember?
Do you remember when I was young and I knew everything?
I knew everything about everything

(Yes, before she even comments, my sister will definitely confirm that this was totally me when we were growing up... and that at least 2 of my 3 kids take after their mother in that regard... and that she was NEVER like that at ANY point in HER youth... ;-D )

Such a long time, such a long time
Such an uphill climb just to finally get over myself
Over my, I’m so over myself

So tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Break me to pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start

I don’t know where, I don’t know how
Maybe a prayer, maybe a cloud
I don’t know where, I don’t know how

So tell all my secrets
And open my scars
Gather the pieces
Cause at the end of me, at the end of me
That’s where You start
                     --Bebo Norman, "At the End of Me"

You see, that’s what I absolutely LOVE about God: He takes us right where we are, and then moves us forward from there.  His grace isn’t about making me feel really crappy about the stupid thing I’ve just said— I already feel crappy enough about that already, thank you very much :-P  God’s grace says to me, “OK, yes, you messed up here, I concur.  Now here’s what we’re going to do about it… You go and do what you can to apologize and make things right, and meanwhile, I’ll go and take care of the rest of it.  Then we can leave this in the past and move on to our next crazy adventure…  Hurry up, gotta dash. Things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard...”

(OK, so I'm still waiting for one of God's plans for me to include a lizard... Darn you, Netflix...)

I find that, when I’m stressed, I tend to lose what little control I have over my mouth, and then out come all sorts of sharply sarcastic, mean-spirited, “I was just joking…” sort of comments, armed and loaded and just ready to take flight and stab people straight in the heart.  And yes, I’ve been stressed recently… There’s a lot of stuff going on and way more running around and trying to fit everything everyone wants to do into the schedule somehow than I ever expected going into this school year.

But…

If I know that being stressed makes me more of a sharp-tongued shrew, then I have an obligation to try harder to keep it under control when I am stressed.  Because honestly?  None of the seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time comments that come flying out of my mouth ever seem to make life easier or less stressful for anybody, myself included.

So this is why I’m writing this now…

First off, if you’re at all like me and you find yourself at times mistaking your tongue for a Ginsu...

... Don’t beat yourself up.  God loves you, He’ll forgive you if you ask Him to, and then He can help you get up and move on.  Apologize to the person you’ve hurt and ask for their forgiveness; they might forgive you, they might not, either way, you’ve done what you can to make peace (Romans 12:18, one of my favorite verses :-D ) and now all you can do is move forward anyway.  Maybe if I’m honest about the fact that I screw up waaaaaaaaay more often in this area than I’m proud of, it can help someone else too.

Second off (Second on?  Secondly?  Maybe it’s just Second…), I’m writing this to ask for people to help hold me accountable.  Sometimes (as God has been pointing out to me recently), I say things in the moment and then just kind of walk away thinking everyone’s laughing and every thing’s fine and everyone understands what I really meant… and I have absolutely no clue until days later that someone’s been lying on the ground behind me bleeding out from their soul because of something stupid that I said.  And let me tell you, that is one sickening realization to come to, especially when the person bleeding to death is someone I love almost more than life itself.

So, the next time I say something (or write something, or you’ve heard that I’ve said something) and it hurts, tell me.  I can’t do anything to make things right and try to bandage up the wounds I’ve caused unless I know about it.  And as a Christian, I want to make things right,  I want to heal wounds and make things better…  Just as I’m supposed to be an ambassador for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:20) and help to bring peace and healing between God and people, I need to do everything I can to bring peace and healing between myself and those that I have hurt.  Even if it’s embarrassing, even if it’s awkward, even if people never forgive me and I end up alone in some cave somewhere waiting for my evil clone twin to show up and finish the job I’ve started… 

No, wait… Too much Netflix is apparently bad for my blogging life :-P

My most recent parenting fail... Sorry, but it's not a funny one this time :-/

I'm beginning to think that the hardest part of raising kids is letting them go.  Now, none of mine are quite old enough to leave the nest yet, so I'm not talking about the big, scary, drive them halfway across the country and then leave them there so they can attend the college of their dreams sort of letting go (though a dear friend of mine just got back home from doing that very thing with her oldest... you are one brave woman, Melinda :-D ).  No, I'm talking about the kind of letting go that comes from realizing that the time has come to step back as a parent and trust your kids to make their own decisions, even if and especially when you're not there to make sure that they do, in fact, make the RIGHT decision.

Today, one of my kids made the wrong decision, and I was at work in another town and completely unable to do anything about it.

Now, before any of you who know me start emailing me with questions of "OMG!!!!!  WHICH KID WAS IT AND WHAT DID THEY DO???  HOW MUCH BAIL MONEY DO YOU NEED AND HOW MANY MONTHS UNTIL YOU WANT TO HAVE THE BABY SHOWER AND WILL YOUR HEALTH INSURANCE COVER DETOX OR WON'T THEY???", let me just assure everyone that no, none of them are pregnant, all of them are home and not in jail, and they've all already finished their homework and are currently already in bed-- each one by themselves, too, just in case some of you (really, seriously?) were going to go there :-P  What happened this morning was in all actuality a very minor thing, with no foreseeable long-term damage done.  And I'm pretty certain that it's not an ominous harbinger of an oncoming storm of teenage rebellion either.  But it DID bring me to a place of questioning whether or not we've been making the right decisions all along the way and discovering that, honestly, I'm not as great a parent as I thought I was :-/

As parenting goes, I've always been a big fan of natural consequences-- sometimes parentally engineered "natural" consequences, but more-or-less natural, logical, reason-led ones all the same.  Toddler daughter refuses to pick up the pieces of her puzzle in a fit of "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO I'M ALMOST FOUR AND SO I'M ALMOST ALL GROWN UP AND YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF MEEEEEE!"; toddler daughter watches as said puzzle pieces are thrown into the trash can along with the rest of the garbage on the floor.  Son #1 decides to throw wet paper towels all over the school bathroom to see how far up the wall he can get them to stick and whether or not he can actually get them to defy gravity and cling to the ceiling; son #1 gets to spend an afternoon helping the custodian clean up said bathroom.  Son #2 decides to ignore the warning about coming home before curfew from his friend's house (which, incidentally, is only 100 yards down the street, so he theoretically could have just hollered to say he'd be late); son #2 finds himself grounded and disallowed to go by himself to a friend's house on his own for the rest of the week.  Basically, you make your choice, you evaluate the consequences, and then you decide if it's really worth making that same choice the next time... pretty simple, no?

We Christian parents especially like to put a hedge of protection around our kids by making sure they only watch the right shows, listen to the right music, read the right books, hang out with the right friends, etc.  We figure that if we only give them good role models to follow and we shield them from negative examples, then they won't know to choose the wrong and will generally make the right decisions all throughout their lives.  We bet that if we raise smart, moral, good church-going kids, we can help them to avoid so many of the pitfalls of secular life... and it's actually not all that bad of a parenting plan, to be honest.

The downside is that we often end up sheltering our kids' decisions so that they only have good options to choose from and gentle consequences to remind them of the unconditional love of God.  And that, as I look back on things tonight, has been the parenting road we ended up on; I'm hearby pleading "GUILTY" to trying their whole lives to protect them from the consequences of their own native stupidity :-(  As kids get older, though, we as parents need to give them more responsibility for their own actions and more freedom in taking those actions.  And sometimes, this means letting them step out of our sight and hoping, with fingers crossed and eyes closed, that they'll have learned enough to not choose the door labeled (in big red, dripping, invisible letters) "This Is the STUPID Option... STAY AWAY!"

It was hard this morning to drive away, knowing that, though I had given my child specific directions and a definite answer to their question of "So, Mom, can we...?", I was leaving them in a position of temptation with no way to enforce my will and preferences in the matter.  And I knew that, theoretically, my child might choose to disobey and do what they wanted to do, hoping that I wouldn't find out.  But because love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things, I trusted that my child, whom I love with all my heart, would resist temptation and do the right thing simply because I had asked them to.  I honestly thought that, because I said "No, you can't... Sorry...", it would be enough to ensure that they actually did what I wanted them to do.

Not only did my child do what I had specifically forbidden them to do, but I had to find out about it from a sibling who couldn't keep their mouth shut.  (Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's going to be some holy Christian smackdown going on as soon as they all head out the door in the morning...)

But you know what?  This is a part of letting go.  At least it was a little mistake, and not one that's going to shape future generations of our family.  At some level, I needed to realize that my kids are not just extensions of my own self-worth, reflections of my ability to parent like a boss.  Each one of my kids is their own independent human being, with their very own imperfect nature and their very own will, with just as much of a right to be wrong as I have.  They're going to go off and make their own choices, and sometimes those choices are going to be "Screw that, Mom, I can make a better decision on my own, thank you very much."  And when those decisions have been ripped out of my grasping, clawing hands, then sometimes the consequences are out of my hands as well, and I won't always be there to catch them when they fall broken to the ground.

This time, though, my husband and I have to-- get to-- assign the consequences.  And we have to walk the fine line between realizing that no lasting harm has been done and not wanting that harm to come knocking at our kids' doors in the future.  How do we assign a consequence for disobedience that's fair and proportionate to a (really pretty minor) offense but still teaches them that, hey, Mom and Dad aren't idiots and you really should listen to them sometimes?  How do we make sure that we don't overreact and punish them too harshly simply because our feelings are hurt and our trust broken?  Or how do we make sure that this consequence gives them something positive that they can hold on to for the rest of their lives and pass on to their own kids someday (who probably won't listen to or obey them any better than they do us right now...)

To make the situation even stickier, tonight I had to admit to myself and to my husband that I've been making parenting decisions all along that have helped to create the situation that tripped my child up this morning... How do I go now to my child and apologize for my own parenting fail and still expect them to respect my wisdom and authority as their mom?  I'm really, really hoping for and counting on the fact that the Bible says that God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble (1 Peter 5:5), because I'm really going to need His grace tomorrow as I share a big ol' slice of humble pie with my child :-/

Actually, strike what I said in my first sentence... maybe the hardest part of raising kids is the not knowing how badly you're screwing them up until it's too late to do anything about it :-/

(I seriously need to start cruising Facebook or hanging out with my daughter's genius friends again... This blog and my sanity are both looooong overdue for a funny post for a change... o.O  But for now, I think I'll just head to bed with this song running through my head; I'll probably end up playing it tomorrow for my kid and pretty much every time I screw up again from now until forever...)

...Whether we want it to be or not...

I guess this is kind of a Part 2 to my last post ("For some of us, every day is April 2nd..."), which was basically all about being autistic and learning to embrace it.  And about 95% of the time, I do embrace it and I'm proud to be me, for better, for worse, and for crazy-weird fun :-)  But then again, there are those days like today that make up that other 5%...

Is it OK to admit that I'm struggling?

As Christians, it seems we're always told to glorify God with our words and with our testimony, and that if we sometimes question why He made us this way or is letting us go through something, we're just walking in doubt instead of in faith.  And somehow, even without saying it explicitly, the message is communicated that this is sinful and disobedient to the God who fearfully and wonderfully made us.  But at the same time, I know that as Paul said in 2 Corinthians 12:10, the times when I am weak as a person are the times when I am strongest as a Christian, because then God can work most visibly in and through me.  So...

Is it OK to admit that I'm struggling?

The past month or so has been crazy busy, what with my husband and 2 of my 3 kids having birthdays, a couple rounds of the Creeping Lung Crud, several subbing jobs, a 1980s-themed Sadie Hawkins dance at the high school (funny how I don't remember the 80s looking quite that bad... then again, I grew up in the 90s, so... o.O), car troubles, job changes, a heart attack scare, and about half a dozen other minor disasters thrown in for comedic effect... oh, and Spring Break too, for that matter.  And this past Saturday, we wrapped up our annual Month of Chaos with my daughter's 15th birthday party, where about a dozen of her best friends crammed into our little apartment to watch Literal Trailers videos and Princess Bride, play Apples to Apples, and take crazy pictures of themselves to post on Instagram.  It was actually a lot of fun, and nothing got broken or thrown this time, so I'd call it an unqualified success :-D

When I made it through Saturday night and all day Sunday without a meltdown, I figured everything was fine, great, dandy... Hey, maybe I've finally developed enough coping skills to actually manage my autism and screen out all of the excess stimuli created by 6 straight hours of 12 hollering teenagers... Maybe I'm finally cured of my autism and my world will actually turn into something normal and I can go on and give my kids the normal life I've always wanted for them...  Maybe this is the start of a new and glorious chapter in my personal history; the Fourth Great and Bountiful Beautiful-Letdownian Empire!  (See... anything can be turned into a Doctor Who reference if you try hard enough... ^_^)

And then... today hit. And the firecrackers started going off in my brain and haven't yet stopped.  And every little tick of the clock and whirr of the fan and beeeeep of the washer makes me want to scream and throw them out the window, the window, the second story window (and I'm betting that you were just there singing along with me, weren't you? ^_^)  And the only way to cope with my daughter's missing cell phone and my son's field trip permission slip and my husband wanting to spend some quality time with me was to go completely numb and just keep repeating the same semi-helpful statements of fact ("No I don't know where it is the last time I saw it you were turning it off at church...  I'm going with your brother on his field trip that day go ask your father if he can chaperone for you... I guess I'm still just really tired from the party and cleaning up afterwards...") over and over again until whatever the issue was resolved itself.  And my 10 year old fell down while selling candy bars for Cub Scouts and scraped up his knee and elbow, and a 14 year old girl disappeared on her way to school in Utah, and someone set off bombs at the Boston Marathon, and so help me, I just didn't care.  And I sat in my car while waiting for my 13 year old to come out of his Boy Scout meeting and just cried and begged God to help me get it together so that I wouldn't scare the living bejeebers out of my kids by having a nervous breakdown in front of them or running my car into a tree for no reason other than to end the madness.

Some days, I hate being this way.  

And on days like this, with the knowledge that April is Autism Awareness Month... all month long... what I wish for most is an Autism Unawareness Day.

One day where, for once, I feel like I'm completely normal and acceptable just as I am.

One day where I don't have to struggle to find the right word and people know what I mean from the words that actually come out of my mouth; a day where, when I'm trying to identify that long thin thing in the conductor's hand as he waves it over the band and I call it first a "stick", and then a "wand," nobody leans over with a snicker and says "Mom, it's Harry Potter that has a wand... That's called a baton."  I know it's a baton, dear... I just misplaced the word for a moment :-/

One day where nobody gives me the Icy Stare of Death because I've described something exactly as I see it and thrown all tact to the wind without even realizing it.

One day where I don't have to wonder what I'm supposed to feel or what I'm supposed to do when something horrific happens in a faraway place like Boston or Manhattan or Newtown, where I can understand why everyone around me is freaking out and holding candlelight vigils from 2000 miles away.

One day where I can feel like I'm fully a part of the world around me, fully engaged and fully equipped to cope with whatever happens... without having to pay the inevitable price of a day like today.

One day where I can be myself, without a mask or a persona, and know that  I won't be shattered beyond repair by the words, the gaze, or the touch of others.

What I want is one day, even if it's just one day, where I can forget completely that I'm autistic and just feel normal for a change, where I and everyone else around me can be totally unaware of my autism and not think instead that I'm just another freak.

Sigh... Yes, I know I'm whining.  I know I'm venting, and I'm using my blog as a place to do it so that maybe someone else out there who struggles with this stuff will realize they're not alone.  I'm venting here so that people will know that, maybe, sometimes, it's OK to admit that we're struggling with the role God has given us to play in this life, because when we admit how weak we are and how dark our world may seem at times, we can see more clearly what a strength and a light our God is.

Even when I'm thrashing about in the midst of a verbal temper tantrum, kicking and screaming at God and asking Him "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO AND MAKE ME THIS WAY????  DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I *%#*@&* HATE THIS????  DON'T YOU CARE???", I know that He made me this way for a reason because He doesn't screw up.  And I know that when I'm all cried out and ready to listen, He'll show me something to make me realize that He's got something bigger in the works than just making me feel "normal"... which is another word for average, which is another word for mediocre, which is just not acceptable for a hyperactive overachiever like me anyway ^_^

So... Is it OK to admit that I'm struggling today?  Yes, I think so.

Am I ever going to get my Autism Unawareness Day?  No, probably not.

Am I ever going to be "normal" or even feel "normal"?  Nope.  Normal is highly overrated anyway.

But hey... At least I don't have to worry about anyone impersonating me or replacing me in God's crazy plan.  Supernatural job security... I guess I can live with that ^_^

And now for today's video...  This has been one of my all-time favorite songs for about 17 years now, one of those songs that just makes me stop whatever I'm doing and just shut up and listen (thankfully, it doesn't often come on my iPod while I'm driving...)  It just seemed like a good note to leave this post on, so...

What Salvation Means to Me...

As Christians, we hear a lot about salvation (i.e. "being saved", "getting saved", "leading someone to salvation" "being washed by the blood of the Lamb", etc.)  Some of us even take what we hear and then go out and talk to others about salvation... and we call that "leading people to Christ", "soul winning", "leading them down the Romans Road", etc.   I wonder though, sometimes, if maybe we talk so much about "salvation" that people who aren't already Christians have learned to just tune us out like so much noise.  I mean, we use all kinds of simple-yet-abstract phrases to dance around the topic... "just ask Jesus into your heart", "get right with God", "save your soul", "become a believer", "meet Jesus", and on and on... and I'm not saying that there's anything wrong or false about any of those words or approaches at all; each one explains a certain facet of salvation, and who knows which phrase will be the one that totally makes sense to someone who's searching for the truth about Jesus Christ?

But I wonder if maybe we spend so much time trying to find the right words to say it and the right phrase to summarize it that we never actually get around to explaining what salvation could actually mean to the person we're talking to, and we end up just adding to the noise instead of helping anyone.  And if we're all just so many noisy clanging cymbals, is it any wonder that, when the topic of religion comes up and we say, "Well, I'm a Christian...", no one ever follows that up with "Oh, really?  Why are you a Christian, and what is it like to be a Christian?"  Unless of course they're just looking for reasons to dismiss you as an idiot, lunatic, or fanatic... and if that's the case, then they're going to find reasons to do that no matter what you say, so what you say really doesn't end up mattering in the first place :-/  But that's a whole 'nother topic, and not one worth going into at the moment anyway, so... :-)

So, basically, if you have no interest in my answer to the question of "Why are you a Christian and what is it like to be a Christian?", and/or you don't care to read about what salvation means to me, then that's just fine... you can skip the rest of this post and read about some of my other, less "religious" soapboxes.  No offense taken :-)

But... if you're curious or if you really want to know more about why I am the way I am, then here we go:

What "Salvation" Means to Me

We all strive to fill our days with stuff to keep us busy, to keep us interested, to keep us from getting bored.  We go to school and/or to work, we come home, we eat our meals, we go to sleep.  We read books, watch TV, listen to our iPods, look for YouTube videos, play Minecraft.  We play in bands, compete on teams, work on projects, spend time with our loved ones, relax with friends... well, we try to relax when we're not busy doing all of the other stuff, anyway....   Sometimes we go places to worship those things that are bigger than us... whether they're worthy of our worship or not.

But then, there are those times when we're all alone, when the work is done, the friends have all gone home, the loved ones are all asleep, when the computer is off and the TV is silent.  Those times when we have nothing to distract us from that gigantic gaping hole in our souls that keeps us awake, whispering in our ears...

You.  Are.  Alone.

And we realize that not only are we alone and feeling kind of lonely in that moment, but we are undeniably, painfully Alone as well.  Because there is a difference between simply being lonely and being Alone... Lonely is what we feel when we think no one is around and we wish that someone was; we know that it is temporary and that we will survive.  When we are Alone, we're not so sure about either.  We spend our days trying to convince ourselves and others that that hole isn't there, that we are complete and that we have it all together... but when we are Alone, we look it in the face and know that we are liars.

(OK, so maybe you're sitting there reading this and thinking to yourself, "Oooooh-KAY then...  Let me know when Reality comes calling again, and until then, just keep your little CRACKED self over in that corner way, way away from the rest of us, 'kay?  Thanks..."  And that's fine... I'm not likely to come after you with anything but a dull pencil, so you're most likely safe where you are ^_^  But next time you're alone, and you're thinking about all that big dark Meaning of Life stuff... I'll bet you'll remember this and start to wonder why... o.O)

So, what is this hole in our souls and why is it there?  I would say that it's the spot where our spirit should be, and that it's been carved and shaped and left empty by God so that we would look for Him.  You see, we're like little kids with a jigsaw puzzle... We've got most of the pieces together, we know what our lives should look like, but there's just that one spot we can't seem to find the right piece for.

So what do we do?

We take all of the pieces we've got left and try to fit them into that spot to see which one is the right one.  Trouble is (and I'm sure we've all run into this at least once in our lives...  I know my kids did a LOT when I was still running my day care :-D ), all of our puzzle boxes have gotten spilled a time or two, and with this particular puzzle, there's one piece missing.

So, what do we do now?

Well, we can try to keep cramming random pieces into the hole, and get more and more frustrated with each one that doesn't fit.  Hey, we can even go and get all of the other puzzle boxes out, dump them all over the floor, and then try all of those pieces in the hopes that one of them will fit.  Just imagine all the super bonus frustration that you can have with that approach ^_^  And then when none of the pieces fit, we can get all mad and throw all of the puzzle pieces all around the room before setting fire to them in the bathtub.  And then try to explain the reasonableness of our decision-making process to the nice firefighters and the insurance adjusters when they come to call...

Or... We can go to the adult of the house and ask them if they know which piece goes there and where that piece might be.  And if they would be so kind as to help us find it and put it in its place.

See, this is the situation I found myself in when I was 20.  None of my pieces were fitting together, and I knew that I had great big gaping holes in my life where things like hope, security, and a will to live should have been.  I had been trying for years to put myself together and keep myself there, but no matter what I did, nothing seemed to work for very long, and as soon as I thought I had it figured out, another piece would fall to the ground and my whole puzzle would shatter.

I was Alone.

But then God was there, and He offered me the piece I'd always been missing.  And once that piece was in place, all of the other pieces made more sense.  Of course, it helped that now I could ask God for help putting the pieces together... "So, hey, Lord... How does this piece with the iguana in polka-dot boxer shorts balancing on a beach ball fit into the whole picture?  Oh, wait... What do you mean it's really a red carnation balanced on the steering wheel of a Toyota Camry?  Well, I guess that does make a little more sense, especially when you put it between those other two pieces..."

But still... What does any of this have to do with salvation?

Well, salvation is the name of that missing piece to my puzzle... No, not the iguana one, the other, analogy-type one, smart-alecks :-P  You see, I needed a savior, someone to rescue me and help me put the pieces of my life together, because as long as I was trying to put myself together on my own, I was doomed to failure.

But what did I need saving from?  What super-scary threat did I need to be rescued from?

Now, this is the part where a preacher would talk about eternal punishment for sins, the death of the soul, separation from God and light and all things that are Good, and unending punishment in a lake of fire.  And all of those things are in the Bible and all of those are gigantically big, end-of-the-world, Meaning-of-Life kinds of things that I am fantastically grateful to be rescued from.  Because it is a huge relief to know that I don't have to worry about any of those things when I die.  But, it seems to me that there should be more to salvation than just the things I won't have to worry about until after I'm dead.  And I'm really not much of a preacher anyway, so...

I think we all get the concept of being saved from a white slavery ring by a devoted father (a la Taken), or being saved from genocide like in Schindler's List, or being saved from a sinking ship like in Titanic, or even being saved from Loki and the Chitauri by Nick Fury and the Avengers.  We totally get that, and we even pay a good chunk of money to see those stories play out on the big screen.  And in Christian circles, we hear all the time about people being saved from addictions, saved from prostitution, saved from disease or infirmity or financial difficulties... which are all amazing and fantastic, but not something we've all gone through.  Most of us live pretty mundane lives, with few or no tales of sinking ships or bank robberies to tell.  But that doesn't mean we don't need someone to save us sometimes.  Here are the mundane little things that I needed saving from:

The shame about all of the stupid things I did when I was too stupid to know any better.
The shame about all of the stupid things I did when I really did know better.

The worry that no matter what I did, I would always be a failure.
The worry that everyone was about to find out that I would always be a failure.

The pressure of trying to be good enough for people to finally accept me for who I was.
The pressure of just trying to be better than I was.
The endless work of getting up every morning and still just being... me.

The suspicion that my existence and my life really was just a random collection of chances with no bigger meaning or point to it.
The fear about what if it would mean if that suspicion turned out to be true.

The frustration of going to work and to school each day and wondering why on earth any of it even matters.
The added frustration of being told that it all should matter by people who couldn't seem to explain why it should matter.

The realization that everyone I knew and everything I had was, at one point or another, going to leave me.
The panic in realizing that there was nothing I could do to stop them.

The terror of feeling lost and knowing that I had no idea where I was going, what I was doing, or how in the hell I'd gotten where I was.
The quiet certainty that all of that was my fault.

The knowledge that with every day I lived, I risked hurting the people who loved me and the ones that I loved back even more than I had the day before.
The knowledge that even if I tried to explain that to them, they'd deny it to my face and tell me I was just being melodramatic.

The loneliness of being completely, utterly Alone in this world.

The understanding that the only way to end that loneliness was for me to die.

The pain that I knew it would take to get myself there.

The damage I would do to myself if I didn't succeed.

The uncertainty of what was actually behind the dark veil of death.

To sum the whole list up in 7 words or less:

I needed to be saved from myself.

All my life, I had been hoping and waiting for my Bryan Mills, my Oskar Schindler, my Thor, my own personal superhero to come and rescue me from myself so that I could go out and finally be everything I always wanted to be.  None of them ever came.

Jesus Christ did.

And in asking Him to rescue me and trusting that He actually would, I finally found the peace I had been missing.  Which was followed by the hope, the security, and the will to live that I so desperately wanted.  And He has never left me, even in my craziest, my darkest, and my scariest times... and I won't lie, there are still times like that, even now that I'm a Christian.  The difference is that, when things get dark and no one is around, Jesus is still there and I'm not alone anymore.  

I will be the first to admit that I'm not some well-read theologian; I know that there are a vast number of different theories about the afterlife, the soul, the "true" meanings of heaven, hell, grace, justice, redemption, propitiation, atonement, and so on-- even within Christianity alone.  And I don't know much about most of those theories, much less about what other religions and worldviews have to say about such things.... and not knowing much means I should probably not say much, lest I sound even more like a total idiot than I already do ^_^

But what I can talk about is what I know from my own life and what it has convinced me of.  And so, this is what I mean when I talk about "salvation"... I'm talking about the peace I have that comes from being saved from my own self-destructive impulses.  The hope I have that comes from knowing I'm going to be all right after all.  The relief that comes from knowing I have a Superhero who will come to either rescue me from whatever trouble I get myself into or stand guard over me as that trouble blows over.  The joy that comes from knowing that whatever crap may be going on in my life right now, there is something 3 million times better waiting for me once it's over.

So, maybe you're asking:  What on earth brought this particular train of thought roaring through the station at 3:30 in the morning on a night when my youngest child is home sick with the flu?  (Well, maybe you weren't asking, but now that I've brought it up, just go with me on this one, OK?  If for no other reason than sympathy for a sick kid... ^_^)

I've been thinking a lot recently about someone I know who doesn't see the same things I do when they think about God, the universe, the meaning of life, and a lot of that stuff.  This person has become one of my very favorite people in the world, and I care a lot about them and what they think and feel and believe, even if we agree to disagree on some of the Big Picture Stuff.  The thing is, because I care about this person, I want them to be more settled and feel more at peace than they are right now, and all I know is that I've found that kind of security, peace, joy, and meaning in my relationship with Jesus.  What I don't want to do is to preach at them or make them feel like I'm lecturing or threatening them, because I remember what that feels like and I absolutely hate, hate, HATE that feeling... that feeling that because I'm not a saved believing Christian, I'm somehow subhuman and therefore not worthy of value unless I get my act together and get "saved."  But, how do I talk to them about salvation without them thinking I'm trying to change them into something they're not or puff myself up into something I'm not?   And I know that, as I go through this life, I'm going to meet more and more people like this, and I'm going to find myself over and over again in this same situation of wanting to speak but not feeling welcome to... and that doesn't even begin to count all of the people I'll never meet who will get to know me by reading this blog.  The possibilities here actually hurt my brain o.O

So maybe I'm kind of hoping that, even if I never get the chance to tell them my story in person, they'll read this blog, and hopefully, they'll actually listen to what I have to say without shutting me out.  In the meantime, my job is to love them right where they're at, whether we agree or not.  Because really, it's not up to me to "save" them... that's between them and God.  All I want to do is tell them what I know so that they can hear the truth about being a Christian from someone who's been there and has finally found what they are still so desperately looking for.

The Handy-Dandy Guide to Relationships... Teen Edition :-)

OK, so just this week, my lovely daughter brought it to my attention that there seems to be some confusion among the younger generation (AKA her oh-so-helpful friends at lunch the other day) as to what exactly puts two people in the category of "dating."  So, with a smile on my face that says I'm 48% joking, I'm going to dedicate this blog post to the Subtle Differences Between the Various Stages of Teenage Relationships.  (And for those of you reading this who are actually a part of this "younger generation", you can use this as a handy-dandy guide to what us old geezers are thinking when we use these phrases in front of you and your potential boyfriend/girlfriend...  We're not actually TRYING to humiliate you, it's just that it comes so naturally to us... ^_^ )

"The Crush"
Ah, yes... this is the way that many teenage relationships seem to start out.  You like him/her... and usually, he/she hasn't quite figured out that you exist yet.  But you're hopeful, because you just know that, as soon as he/she notices that you like him/her (assuming that they first realize that you exist, of course), he or she will recognize that the two of you have virtually everything in common and were obviously meant to be together.  This stage usually lasts until you figure out that everything you love about your crush is based upon how little you actually know about your crush, and once you realize how truly annoying he or she can be, the fascination dries up pretty quickly :-/  This is most definitely the single most irritating type of teenage relationship for your friends, since the only thing you ever want to talk about in the Crush stage is your crush; it's particularly annoying to those friends who also happen to be in the Crush stage but are crushing on you as you're crushing on someone else... but anyway...

"Dating"
This is the "test-driving" stage of a relationship.  Basically, when you're "dating" (or "allowed to date", as all my fellow parents out there are probably hollering right about now...), your main goal is to try out as many of the local hotties as possible in search of that One True Love of Your Life.  So, when that cute guy from Biology class asks you if you want to go and see "An Unexpected Miserable Parental Guidance Chainsaw Trip Unchained" with him next Saturday afternoon, naturally you say "Yes!"... even though you've already got plans to go and see the very same movie with the cute guy from Geometry on Friday night ^_^   No commitment, no expectations, no jealousy allowed... just looking for a good time with whoever asks first... that's "dating."  (In other words, if you're a teenage boy and you're thinking about asking if you can "date" my daughter, start preparing yourself now for an answer of either "Um, no...", "NO.", "HECK no!", and/or "I'm the Doctor... Basically, RUN.")...

"Going Out"
This is the stage where you actually start going out to stuff with the same person more than once... For example, let's say you both thoroughly enjoyed "An Unexpected Miserable Parental Guidance Chainsaw Trip Unchained", and now he's asking you if you want to go with him to see "The Rise of the 40 Jack Reachers in the Promised Land" next weekend.  And since you had a good time before AND you still think he's kind of cute (and he didn't pick his nose even once that you noticed during the movie...), you say "Sure... Why not?"  So, now that you've been spotted out in public with the same person multiple times, it's perfectly reasonable for your friends/friends' friends/parents' annoying coworkers to start asking, "Hey, so... are you two a couple?"  And now, finally, you have the perfect answer for them: "Well... We're going out."  Short, simple, and vague enough to only be slightly awkward ^_^

"Going Steady"
(My mother-in-law gave me this one... Personally, I hadn't heard it since I was a teenager, but now that I'm the parent of teens, it's kind of starting to grow on me... )

Now, this is where things start to get interesting o.O  You like him/her... and he/she likes you back.  You've done the whole "going out" thing several times, and you've both pretty much stopped going out with anyone else.  However... you're not really sure that you're quite ready for That Special Someone to come home and meet the rest of your crazy family just yet... especially if they're the kind of family that entertains themselves by dissecting the personality quirks of every new visitor and/or throwing food at mealtimes...


So... "going steady" means that you're kind of a couple now... in an officially unofficial sense, anyway.  Your friends all know you're a couple, but your parents and all of their friends and family members are still trying to explain your relationship by saying things like, "He's such a nice boy... and they're so cute together!" or "Aww... Isn't puppy love adorable?"  Which leads to all sorts of interesting family nicknames for your Almost-Significant Other... such as:

• The Unofficial Boyfriend (AKA The Ubbie)
• His Unofficial Girlfriend (AKA The Huggie)
• The He's-NOT-My-Boyfriend/She's-NOT-My-Girlfriend (if you can figure out how to turn HNMB or SNMG into something both acronymical and cutesy, be my guest...)
• The Potential Boyfriend/Potential Girlfriend (shortening this to "Pot Boy" or "Pot Girl", however, will probably NOT win you any coolness points with the teens in your life.  Just sayin'...) 
• The We're-Just-Friends... Really-Really-Really-Good-Friends (added emphasis on the last Really is purely optional, but adds that touch of flavor and mystery to the phrase that makes one raise the eyebrow and go "Oh, really?")
• Your Young Man Friend.  (I have my sister to blame for that one...  Apparently, there is more than one way to interpret the phrase "He's NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" after all o.O  I draw the line, however, at acronymizing this to "The Yummie"...)

"Boyfriend/Girlfriend"
So.  This is (or should be, anyway) the epitome of teenage relationship status clarity.  You like him/her, he/she likes you back, and you've brought him/her home to meet your parents and siblings AND gone over to meet his/her parents and siblings as well.  He/she has asked you to be his/her girlfriend/boyfriend, and you've decided that yes, you're willing to ignore all of the other possible hotties in your life and settle on this one person for the foreseeable future, with the expectation that he/she is going to do the same.  This is the point at which you change your Facebook status, put pictures of him/her in your locker and on the walls of your room, and start referring to him/her in every possible situation as "My boyfriend/my girlfriend..."

Friend 1: "So, Steve and I are going to the movies this weekend.  Do you want to come with us?"
You: "Sure!  My boyfriend and I would LOVE to!  Which movie and what time?"

Friend 2:  "So, Morgan and I were sitting in Modern World History this morning, and OMG, I could not believe what Shelbie and Dakota were saying about Tiffany's dress at Homecoming..."
You:  "Yeah, I know... My boyfriend is in that class too, and he totally heard them talking about it..."

Friend 3:  "So, we went to my grandparents' house for Thanksgiving, and the pumpkin pie caught fire and burned one wall of the kitchen, which my Uncle Ernie had to use the egg nog to put out, but then we had to take him to the hospital with 2nd degree burns..."
You:  "Hey, my boyfriend has grandparents too!  And he likes things that catch fire... and pie..."

But anyway... That's pretty much The Beautiful Letdown's Handy Dandy Guide to Relationships for Teenagers in a nutshell ^_^  Enjoy, and try to avoid the flaming pie next time...

Broken Stained Glass Candles... Like Me

So... The holiday season is now over and things are about to go back to "normal"... well, at least as normal as it gets around these parts o.O

For Christmas this year, my youngest gave me this stained glass candleholder made of grout and bits of broken blue glass...

He didn't make it himself (I know this because I was with him at Goodwill when I picked it up and commented on how cool it was... which was about 3 aisles before he told me "Mom, DON'T LOOK... I'll be right back!" and then took off running ^_^), but all the same, I love it just as if he did because of what it says about life and about me.

Allow me to explain.

Once upon a time, I was created as a beautiful, unblemished piece of art, without understanding of life or sin or failure.  Granted, I had some structural flaws-- mainly health issues and a family background that would make life difficult for anyone-- but as far as I could see with my newborn eyes, I was perfect, lovely, and loveable.

http://supercleanpr.com

But then, life happened.  Over time, I was bumped, dropped, knocked around, fractured, and crushed by circumstances.  In response, I lashed out, cutting myself and others with the sharpened edges of my shattered innocence.  My flawless surface began to show cracks where I had been hurt, dribbles of glue where people who loved me had tried to fix me, and scraps of cellophane tape where I had tried to heal myself.  Bits and pieces of me were broken off and embedded in the hearts of those who tried in vain to understand me, just as pieces of them were left buried in me.

http://tektites.co.uk

As I began to see the power that I could have by hurting people, I became not a piece of art but a weapon, wielding my damaged pride like a knife and using my bloodied edges to slash at others before they could pierce me with their own.  Yet the blood was not just theirs, but mine; for every wound I inflicted on them, I took two of my own.  While the damage I did to those around me was spread out among dozens, the damage I did to myself landed only on me.  Every cruel word I spoke, every bruise I left, every vicious tirade I inflicted echoed in my mind, and each word came back to haunt me as I realized that everything I said had been true... about me.  I cut others so that I could forget that I had been cut myself.

Once I was an innocent; now I was a monster.

Once I was whole; now I was deformed.

Once I was beautiful; now I was broken.

My original form was lost, my once-shiny colors and designs covered by dirt and shattered by situations and choices.  Like broken glass littering the midnight street, I had become ugly and useless, a cruel glittering of danger waiting only for the distracted feet of my next victim to tread upon me.

http://westoftheimagination.wordpress.com

But then...

God steps in.

And bit by bit, He begins to gather up the broken pieces of me.  He cleans them off and sets them aside, separating them by color, shape, and size.

http://earofthewind.com/about

Some pieces He refines, rubbing off the sharp edges and rendering them harmless; others He leaves sharp to be used as tools for His work.

http://boehmstainedglass.blogspot.com/2011/07/octagonal-window-glass-cut.html

Slowly, one by one, He takes each of the broken pieces and places them into a mold.  At first, the design makes absolutely no sense to anyone but Him; in time, however, glimpses of the bigger picture become visible.

http://mosaicartsource.wordpress.com

I write these paragraphs in the present tense because I am still a work in progress; God isn't finished putting me together yet.  I still have some sharp edges and many missing pieces; I still have great big gaping holes where the pieces of my soul aren't quite ready to be put back in yet.  I still feel lost and broken sometimes, and every so often, I accidentally slice open the hands of those who reach out to touch me.  I am flawed and I am broken, and I know that, until the day God puts the final piece of me together and I see Christ face to face, I will always be flawed and broken.

But...

If by my brokenness, other people will see that there is a God and that He is the one who saves me from myself, then it is worth the pain.  If by my flaws, other people can see that God is real and that if He can love a person as messed up as I am, He can love them too, then it is worth it.  If my struggles and my shortcomings and my failures-- and the hope I still have in spite of them-- can show people that no situation is hopeless, then they are all worthwhile.  If my weakness shows God's strength to carry me, then by all means... bring it :-)

Day by day, piece by piece, reminder by reminder, God takes the broken pieces of my life and puts them together into something beautiful again.  Not the same as I was before... that design has been crushed and obliterated beyond recognition, and will never, ever be made whole again.  But all the same, the end result will be breathtakingly beautiful... and like my broken stained glass candleholder, I think I will love it all the more for the work that He has put into it :-D

And now, for the musical interlude part of the blog...  Here is someone else's video for a song that perfectly captures what I'm trying to say here, only in a more poetical form :-)  Lyrics are below for anyone who needs them...

"Art in Me" by Jars of Clay

Images on the sidewalk
Speak of dreams' descent
Washed away by storms to graves
Of cynical lament
Dirty canvases
To call my own
Protest limericks carved
By the old pay phone

And in Your picture book I'm
Trying hard to see
Turning endless pages
Of this tragedy
Sculpting every move
You compose a symphony
And You plead to everyone
See the art in Me
See the art in Me
See the art in Me.

Broken stained glass windows
The fragments ramble on
Tales of broken souls
An eternity's been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works
Of mortal man
My eyes are drawn to You
In awe once again

And in Your picture book I'm
Trying hard to see
Turning endless pages
Of this tragedy
Sculpting every move
You compose a symphony
And You plead to everyone
See the art in Me
See the art in Me
See the art in Me.

And in Your picture book I'm
Trying hard to see
Turning endless pages
Of this tragedy
Sculpting every move
You compose a symphony
And You plead to everyone
See the art in Me
(See the art in me...)
See the art in Me
(See the art in me...)
See the art in Me
(See the art in me...)
 

My favorite moment of the past week... Learning to speak softly :-)

OK, yes, it's been several months... FTST (Full-Time Student Teaching) will do that to a person o_O

I'm currently in a 4th grade bilingual classroom in rural Oregon... 29 kids, 12 girls and 17 boys... that right there should tell you 80% of what you need to know about how it's going o_O

But anyway, I figured that 1) it's been a while since I posted anything, and 2) I had to share this little incident with somebody other than my hubby and kids.

A little background:  On my first day at the school, one of the boys in my class (who I'll call Jason) decided that he hated my guts simply because I was there.  As it turns out, Jason has an ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), so he pretty much hates everything that doesn't fit into his schema... which includes student teachers, apparently.  Which is fine... we have a family friend with the same ASD, so I totally get where Jason was coming from.

Over the first few weeks, Jason and I developed a special kind of relationship... I would make eye contact with him, he would glare at me; I would ask him how he was doing, he would growl and turn his back; I would ask him to get out his homework, he would pull his hoodie over his face and pretend to sleep.  It was a beautiful and heartwarming thing, this budding friendship of ours.

And then, one day, we discovered that we had something in common: we've both read and loved the Warriors books by Erin Hunter :-D

After that, it was a whole different story... kind of a Longtail-and-Firepaw sort of thing, if you've read the books ^_^  As it turns out, Jason is off-the-charts brilliant... which goes a ways towards explaining why, as he puts it, "99% of the people in this school irritate me..."  He also does a killer Christopher Judge impersonation...

... though I seriously doubt that he would ever contemplate watching Stargate SG-1.  Ever.  Because everybody knows that intergalactic travel through a wormhole is both physically and theoretically impossible.  As are time travel and the existence of alternate realities.  Oh, well...

So, anyway, this week, I had just finished teaching a lesson when a random fourth grader walked up to me and randomly handed me a meterstick.  For no apparent reason.  Just... thought I should hold onto it, I guess... o_O

"OK... I now have a big stick.  Any idea what I'm supposed to do with it?"

Random Child shrugs, grins, and walks off.  Which is typical, but more on Random-Child later on, I'm sure...

At this point, Jason leans over, gives me his Teal'c look, and remarks, "Now all you need is to learn how to speak softly..."

Gah!  Roosevelt quotes from a fourth grader???  OMG... I love this kid! :-)  (And for the record, yes, he was able to tell me which Roosevelt he was quoting...)

 

 

Random Thoughts Inspired by Random Thoughts on Facebook... Part 1 :-)

OK, so I'll be honest and admit that I'm pretty much addicted to Facebook... I use it to keep in touch with old friends and geographically distant relatives, share info about my life and my family with people who care about them almost as much as I do, and commiserate with classmates over the controlled (we hope, anyway ^_^) chaos that is life as a college senior.  But sometimes, the things I come across on the ol' FB make me scratch my head and wonder why...

--------------------

"TO ALL MY FELLOW NUTS... I just realized... We sit & stare at a screen... We talk to ourselves... We have imaginary friends, zoos, farms, cities, & fake animals... We cook imaginary food in imaginary bakeries... We play bingo that gives no money... We poke people & think its OK... We even write on walls... Think about it... Facebook is a mental hospital & we are all its patients.  Feel free to steal this... I just did! :-) Party in my ward later =^}"

Hehehe... "You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free..." :-D

--------------------

"How bad is the current economy? I received a pre-declined credit card in the mail. CEO's are now playing mini golf. Exxon-Mobil laid off 25 Congressmen. Angelina Jolie adopted a child from America. Motel Six won't leave the light on anymore. A picture is now only worth 200 words.They renamed Wall Street "Wal-Mart Street". Finally, I called the Suicide Hotline. I got a call center in Pakistan and when I told them I was suicidal, they got all excited, and asked if I could drive a truck."

Yep...  I get all my current events info from Facebook ^_^    Actually, I thought this one was pretty darn clever for FB...  I just wish I knew who actually wrote it so I could give credit where credit is due :-)


--------------------


"Please copy this if you know someone or have heard of someone who knows someone that may have known someone who knows anyone. If you don't know anyone, or even if you've heard of anyone who doesn't know anyone that doesn't know someone, then still copy this. It's important to spread the message. Oh, and the hearts. ♥♥ Don't forget the freakin' hearts. ♥♥"

My head hurts now.  And I gave up after the first period...


--------------------

"Wow. Steve Jobs resigning as CEO. I'm kinda numb. Everyone out there who has an iPhone just take a good long look at it. Steve Jobs created that. Anyone with a different Smart Phone, know that Steve Jobs still made the basic breakthrough for that to exist. He has affected millions of lives. I'm sad to see him go. I will forever remember his genius."

Um, he's just resigning from his position.  He's not dead.  And I think he had at least another guy or two helping him with the whole Smart Phone thingie-majigger at some point along the way.  Just sayin'...

(UPDATE - Wednesday Oct. 5th, 2011:  Wow... Who knew?  Steve Jobs is kind of like one of those generational icons that you just assume will always be there... until all of a sudden he's not.  RIP Steve Jobs, 2/24/1955 - 10/5/2011.)
--------------------

"Thanks Facebook. I'm well aware my anniversary is tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure I don't need to send my husband a Facebook message reminding him.... >.>"

Redundant Facebook is... redundant?  But in a helpful, Clippy-the-Microsoft-Help-Paperclip sort of way... ^_^

--------------------

And my personal "Uh... Seriously?" favorite of the moment...

FB Girl: "ugh... found out my classes... hate em.. how did i get pre algebra when i culdnt even sound it out? i mean seriously? i kinda wanted easy classes so i can get easy grades... thank you"

FB Friend 1: "Hahaha 8th grades fun easy or not trust me ull have fun just stay away from drama lol"

FB Girl: "is ms f_____ ..... nice..... imma switch cuz of all the crap she posted on her thing she sayss missing work turns into a 0 anhen you have tto bring an ssr book to cklass every day.. yeah i dont do that imma change"

FB Friend 1: "Hahah i hated her i had her no one likes her but she says that stuff and she means it but ever 8th grade teacher expects u to have a ssr book"

FB Girl: "why i dontr get it we all know how to read so why practice more.. seriously?"

Yeah.  Seriously.  Because apparently, even with all the practice you've had over the past 8 years, you still can't capitalize, punctuate, or spell...

Oh, well, that's OK I guess... but now that I'm thinking about the joys of 8th grade... ^_^ 

This isn't generally my favorite music style (it's a little too mellow for my usual taste) BUT it just so fits with the whole back-to-school season that I had to include it :-D  Enjoy!

10 Reasons Why It Sucks To Be A Skinny Girl...

OK, so, once again, I'm sitting here thinking about how our lovely Oregon May (sunshine, blue skies, highs in the mid- to upper- 60s) seems to have turned so suddenly back into a not-so-lovely Oregon March (wind, clouds, showers... yeah, you get the picture), and somehow that gets me thinking about the past, and that somehow (yes, my thought processes usually are this random...) leads me to put together my "Top 10 Reasons Why It Sucks To Be A Skinny Girl":


10.  We're always cold.  Always.  Not just in October, or December, or January, or March, but always.  When it's 87 degrees out and the rest of the world is lounging around in their shorts and tank tops, we will be the ones shivering and wondering when summer will finally arrive as we grab our favorite GFU hoodie and bury our heads and hands in its folds.  Oh, and this would be in July or August, mind you... because here in Oregon, that's about the size of summer as we know it :-)

9.  We have the dubious privilege of being able to shop in at least 3 different sections of any department store: Women's, Juniors, and Girls 7-16.  It's very difficult to find work-appropriate clothing that doesn't require a shiny pink patent leather Hannah Montana belt to hold them onto us, and it's even more difficult to earn the respect of your fifth graders when you're wearing the same outfit as three of them.  Just trust me on this one...

8.  Every time we go to any grandmother's home-- whether it's our own grandmother or not-- for dinner, we always get clucked over and served double helpings under the mantle of "fattening us up".  Which isn't so bad, for the most part... unless of course the grandmother's specialty involves pork, leftover goulash, or Spam and green beans.  Or all of the above... together.  Then things get scary...

7.  Every time we go home to visit, our mothers shake their heads at us and mutter under their breaths about how "college cafeteria food just isn't what it used to be and if only we would just live at home things would be better..."  Which is really sad when you're 35, married with several small children, and you can't even afford cafeteria food.  Which then moves right into Reason #6...

6.  People assume (especially if any of the aforementioned small children are as skinny as we are) that we simply CAN NOT COOK.

Okay, well, I guess in my case they would be right... I'm not a creative cook, or a particularly good cook.  I don't really even LIKE to cook.  But I can sure microwave stuff really well, and I LOVE to bake :-D  Actually, I'm getting better at cooking stuff that everyone in my family can and will eat, and I do eat what I cook, so the implication that I'm incapable of cooking actually does chafe a bit, the more I think about it...

5.  A lot of women automatically assume that their boyfriends/fiancees/husbands are looking at us and wishing that they (the girlfriends/fiancees/wives... not the guys doing the looking) were skinny like us.  Given my personal dating history and that of the other skinny girls I know, I can most assuredly tell you that this is simply NOT the case... or if it is, those women do a really, really, REALLY good job of keeping their men-- and any others in about a 15 foot radius, for that matter-- from showing any interest in us whatsoever.

4.  When we go out to lunch with a group, the first thing that the host or hostess at the restaurant does is point us to the salad bar.  I really despise the salad bars at restaurants, because honestly, if I wanted to eat lettuce and veggies, I'd spend the 3 bucks for a bag of Fresh Express and a bottle of Catalina and pig out at home.  When I go out to eat-- especially if someone else is paying-- I want REAL food and plenty of it... nom nom nom :-D

3.  Women who look just fine to us feel that they're perfectly entitled to begin conversations that involve food with, "You're so skinny... I hate you."  And then they smile and say they're just kidding... usually.  But still, the damage is done.  No one likes to be told that they're hated for something that they can't control, and it's especially damning when, if we were to turn the tables and say, "Wow, you're a bit chubby... I hate you...", it would end the friendship right then and there.  It's also hard when all the while, we're looking at them and wishing that we had those kind of curves, and remembering all the times that our husbands or boyfriends have looked at women with curves and tried to gently suggest that "it would be OK if we had curves like that too..."  Constructive criticism be damned, it hurts to be told you're not good enough.

2.  Nothing ever quite looks right on us.  Even when we think we look fine, we constantly have friends and relatives looking us over when we walk into a room, shaking their head at us, and suggesting that we just need to get more rest, we just need to eat more and eat better, or we just need to stop working so hard.  They ask if we're feeling OK, compare our arms to toothpicks and wonder aloud if we really do disappear when we turn sideways.  (The answer to that last one, BTW, is that no, we don't, but right then and there, we wish we could...) What they don't see is that the mirror at home points out the roundness of our cheeks and the way our chins get wider when we tilt our heads just so, and that it laughs at us when we suck it in to make ourselves look slenderer.  What they don't know is that we are trying as hard as we can to eat, to rest, to look normal, act normal, be normal.

1.  People always assume we have an eating disorder.

Which is sometimes-- not always, but far, far too often-- true.

For some of us, at some point in our lives, someone told us that we would be happy if we were just a little bit thinner, that we would then be pretty and that people would finally love us.  Sometimes that person is a parent, or a boyfriend, or a so-called friend at school, but more often than not, it's an invisible voice that we can never quite trace, a voice that seems to come from all sides and always pops up when it's least wanted or needed.  We see other girls who seem to have it all together, and whether they're skinny or not, we assume that, if we were only prettier like them, we would attain what they have naturally.  What we don't see is that they are scrambling just like we are to pretend that everything's fine and that inside, they're often thinking that if only they were pretty like so-and-so, then they would be happy too.

I struggled with anorexia from the time I was 13 until I was 19;  it took me another 3 years and placing my unborn daughter at risk to finally break its hold over me.  I honestly believed that, if I could just stick with 3 pieces of bread and a couple of glasses of milk each day, I would finally be slender enough that my face wouldn't resemble a potato and my thighs wouldn't wobble like beached whales when I walked.  Of course, I always ended up eating more than that and cursing myself for being such a failure... everything in my life always seemed to come back to my inability to control myself and the inescapable fact that I was, and would always be, a failure.  The most ironic thing?  At my heaviest, I weighed only 131 pounds, which is completely normal for a 5-foot-6 teenager.  More often, my weight hovered around 114... nowhere near overweight.

When I was 19, I finally admitted that my not eating was a problem and resolved to make myself eat more.  Funny thing, though... suddenly, my appetite all but disappeared.  Even after Jesus Christ saved me at the age of 20 (which is yet another long story that I may or may not go into at another time), it just didn't seem like my eating was all that important in the big scheme of things-- I mean, after all, aren't Christians supposed to force their bodies into submission and show self-control in all things and avoid gluttony and all that "be holy as I the LORD am holy" good stuff?  (Yes, I'm being sarcastic here... please don't start posting comments about how I'm misinterpreting the Scriptures and making Christianity into some sort of ascetic self-mutilation cult.  Thank you... o_O)

What finally gave my the wake-up call to start actually doing something about my anorexia was when the doctor who was to deliver our first child became concerned because, at 8 months of pregnancy, I had stopped gaining weight; she feared that my inability to eat enough had caused the baby to stop growing entirely.  Two  additional ultrasounds were inconclusive; there wasn't enough detail to tell anything other than that our soon-to-be born daughter was alive, but not moving as much as she had been before.  For the first time, my eating disorder was endangering someone other than myself, someone I had been charged by God to take care of and to protect-- not to starve and cripple.  Our daughter was born nearly 2 weeks past her due date weighing 8 lbs, 2 oz and (after spending a few additional days in the hospital for unrelated issues) perfectly healthy, so it turned out to be just a scare for all of us.  BUT... I guess I needed something like that to shake me out of my stupidity and motivate me to actually conquer my eating issues.  To this day, though, I have trouble gaining weight and keeping it on, and even though I eat and eat and eat, I never quite make it to the point where people actually believe me when I say that I'm fine.  So I guess I will always be one of the "skinny girls"... and at this point, I'm OK with that :-)

There is a song I've always loved that helps me to put an image to this struggle with myself; maybe I like it so much because I have no innate musical talent of my own BUT if I did, I wish I would have written and sung this song myself :-)  Anyway, here is a video that someone else made for the song, followed by the lyrics...

"Piece of Glass"

Can’t believe that I did it again

Wake me up from this nightmare

‘Cause this monster’s wasting me away

Taking my days

Every day, I live a bit less

One night leads to another

Even if I went back

Would they recognize me?

Or criticize me?

Who are you that lies when you stare at my face?

Telling me that I’m just a trace

Of the person I once was

‘Cause I just can’t tell if you’re telling the truth

Or a lie

On you I just can’t rely

After all, you’re just a piece of glass

Still I control this nightmare

When I call, it answers

But I can’t tell it when to come or

When to stay

Who are you that lies when you stare at my face?

Telling me that I’m just a trace

Of the person I once was

‘Cause I just can’t tell if you’re telling the truth

Or a lie

On you I just can’t rely

After all, you’re just a piece of glass

“Don’t talk… listen.

Hold Me tighter

Stay with Me just for a while

Until the sun shines

Stay with Me

Just give Me one more day…”

Who are you that lies when you stare at my face?

Telling me that I’m just a trace

Of the person I once was

‘Cause we’re not the same

You’re just a picture of me

You’re gone as soon as I leave

You’ve lived my life for me

And you’re no more than just a piece of glass

You’re no more than just a piece of glass

    -- Danielle Young & Derek Webb

Anorexia is something that never completely goes away; it's always at the back of your mind, whispering in your ear and calling you names like "fat", "ugly", and "cow".  It laughs along with the jokes about ugly people and pokes you in the ribs to tell you that, hey, they're laughing at you too.  It tells you that no matter how hard you work or how far you go, you will never be pretty enough, attractive enough, special enough, or good enough for anyone to love you.  And when someone finally does tell you that you are enough, you are special, and that they do love you, it calls them a liar.  Anorexia is the enemy within; its weapons are the mirror and the scale, and it seeks to destroy us from the inside out.  We are not strong enough to battle it on our own and win because it is us; this is why we need God's love and His strength to fight it on our behalf.  And now, well into the second decade of this war against myself, I can at least say that I'm not losing nearly as often anymore... and that gives me hope for tomorrow :-D

And now that it's almost 12:30 in the morning, I think I'll be signing off for now... until later :-)