Michael had mentioned that his buddies were going to meet here on Saturday morning. They were going to play in a lacrosse tournament, and the guys thought this would be a convinient meeting spot. We were not surprised, then, to hear deep-voiced adolecent males prowling our home at the ungodly hour of 8:30 am.
Tim and I stayed snug in our bed... When what to our wondering ears should appear, but the sounds of actual cooking out there! Michael, who usually finds the construction of a sandwhich to be beyond him, was banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. He managed to cook eggs, toast, and waffles for 8 guys. When I later expressed my wonder, he said, "Mom, anyone can crack an egg." Anyone can not, apparently, clean up after himself.
In church on Sunday, we heard about the importance of names. Specifically, of course, the Name of God. I was inspired to look up the meanings of my four children's names to see if anything of their true nature is thereby revealed. Their name meanings sound like Indian Names:
God-like famous Spearman
Gift from God who Supplants mighty Chief
In charge with Honor
Mountain of Strength who is Like God
...I did notice that there was nothing in there about being obedient or tidy. Everything else makes sense, except the Spearman part. We considered somewhat ribald interpretations, which I tried to combat with the reminder that this is a "Godlike" Spearman. Perhaps he'll hit whatever he aims at?
And what's with the "Supplanter"?
Tim and I both turn out to be warriors, he with Honor, me as a protecting shelter. Funny, since we don't ever fight each other.
You should look up your name. And your kids. I'd love to know what they mean...
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Rockin the kitchen
In the mornings, I sit in bed to read my bible, my email, and my blog before I face the day. It's a peaceful, reflective time for me. I sip my decaff in the quiet.
Tim, who starts his new job next week, is in the kitchen doing dishes. He is also blaring Justin Timberlake "Bringin Sexy Back." Not just every man would clean a kitchen to this album at 8:30 in the morning. The "sexy, sexy, pump that body" lyrics are impeding my prayerful sense of peace. However, they certainly make me smile. I think it's a crack-up that my refined man jams to a dance beat.
I would have done the dishes last night, but the evening got away from us. We went to a lacrosse game in which Aaron was playing and Tim was coaching. We got home rather late, and didn't manage to eat dinner until 8:30. The dishwasher was already full of dirty dishes, so I left the dinner dishes for my Disco Man's Morning Routine. Actually, I envisioned myself getting to them this morning....what was I thinking?
We've been relishing each day as though it were our last. Tim and I have gone out to lunch, bought stuff at the mall, spent lazy afternoons...all in anticipation of losing these unstructured days together. Two years of spending every moment together has been a treat for which I am most grateful. For a couple starting out late in life, it's been the best possible scenario. It's allowed us to develop our relationship beyond the typical two-year marriage, I think. I know him better than I would have if he'd been at work every day.
Now, of course, we get to adjust to a whole new way of life. That's something we've been thinking about a lot. I really like my husband, dang it. I'd prefer to keep him home with me. But, I wish he'd turn the music down.
Tim, who starts his new job next week, is in the kitchen doing dishes. He is also blaring Justin Timberlake "Bringin Sexy Back." Not just every man would clean a kitchen to this album at 8:30 in the morning. The "sexy, sexy, pump that body" lyrics are impeding my prayerful sense of peace. However, they certainly make me smile. I think it's a crack-up that my refined man jams to a dance beat.
I would have done the dishes last night, but the evening got away from us. We went to a lacrosse game in which Aaron was playing and Tim was coaching. We got home rather late, and didn't manage to eat dinner until 8:30. The dishwasher was already full of dirty dishes, so I left the dinner dishes for my Disco Man's Morning Routine. Actually, I envisioned myself getting to them this morning....what was I thinking?
We've been relishing each day as though it were our last. Tim and I have gone out to lunch, bought stuff at the mall, spent lazy afternoons...all in anticipation of losing these unstructured days together. Two years of spending every moment together has been a treat for which I am most grateful. For a couple starting out late in life, it's been the best possible scenario. It's allowed us to develop our relationship beyond the typical two-year marriage, I think. I know him better than I would have if he'd been at work every day.
Now, of course, we get to adjust to a whole new way of life. That's something we've been thinking about a lot. I really like my husband, dang it. I'd prefer to keep him home with me. But, I wish he'd turn the music down.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Skype to m'lou
My dear friend Patti moved away over year ago, and I'm having a hard time dealing with that. She used to live around the corner from me, and we were in each other's homes daily. This makes her home in Connecticut seem like the other side of the world.
So, yesterday, I got a wild hair and downloaded Skype.Have you tried this? You can have a Star Trek Video conversation on the computer. Like, you can actually see the other person! Love.(Cathy, do you have Skype?)
It's a very distracting sort of conversation. I found that I was so thrilled to see Patti's sweet face, and her new haircut, and her kids and husband,,,,that I was having a hard time thinking of things to actually say. Plus, also, too...I could see myself in the little window thingy, and I kept wanting to play with my hair. It was like being on TV. The extrovert in me was a bit giddy with the experience.
My family, who are all about as technologically backwards as me, kept coming up behind me to put their face in the frame on my TV show to say HI to Patti.
When I got off the Skype, I wanted to call Patti on the phone, so we could talk about all the things that slipped my mind with the wonder of seeing the person I was speaking to. It was that distracting.
However, it was also so very fun that I then had to Skype Kara, who only lives across town. Oddly enough, Kara didn't have a Skype account, but her daughter did. Her daughter is, like, 9.
With Tim going off to work and Abandoning Me, I could have all kinds of Skype fun to keep me occupied. In fact, I could have lunch with the ladies, long conversations, and great girlfriend time without ever leaving the house!
Who loves her computer?
So, yesterday, I got a wild hair and downloaded Skype.Have you tried this? You can have a Star Trek Video conversation on the computer. Like, you can actually see the other person! Love.(Cathy, do you have Skype?)
It's a very distracting sort of conversation. I found that I was so thrilled to see Patti's sweet face, and her new haircut, and her kids and husband,,,,that I was having a hard time thinking of things to actually say. Plus, also, too...I could see myself in the little window thingy, and I kept wanting to play with my hair. It was like being on TV. The extrovert in me was a bit giddy with the experience.
My family, who are all about as technologically backwards as me, kept coming up behind me to put their face in the frame on my TV show to say HI to Patti.
When I got off the Skype, I wanted to call Patti on the phone, so we could talk about all the things that slipped my mind with the wonder of seeing the person I was speaking to. It was that distracting.
However, it was also so very fun that I then had to Skype Kara, who only lives across town. Oddly enough, Kara didn't have a Skype account, but her daughter did. Her daughter is, like, 9.
With Tim going off to work and Abandoning Me, I could have all kinds of Skype fun to keep me occupied. In fact, I could have lunch with the ladies, long conversations, and great girlfriend time without ever leaving the house!
Who loves her computer?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The growing pains of change
My husband is leaving me for a job. He actually got hired, and will venture out one day this week to begin his new career. We're not sure which day he'll start, so here we hang in anticipation.
Tim, my husband, is a slender fellow. He is one of those eaters who is perfectly content with one helping at dinner. If he's not quite full, he simply decides to eat again later, if he gets around to it. I, on the other hand, don't consider dinner Eaten unless I am full to bursting.
Tim forgets to eat during the day when he's busy. I remember to eat every time I pass the kitchen.
Tim doesn't really snack. He will prepare an entire meal, consume a little, and be perfectly satisfied. To watch me graze, you'd think I live in fear of an impending food shortage.
Which brings me, eventually, to my point.
With him working all day, he's going to forget to eat on a regular basis. This will make him thinner. If he gets thinner, I will look larger. It is a husband's responsibility to be more substantial than his wife at all times! I firmly believe this. Perhaps "firmly" is an ill-chosen adjective.
Being trapped in a house with my offspring all day is going to make me eat more. This does not bode well for my figure, nor for my self esteem. Clearly, Tim is at fault here. If he would stay home and pamper me, then I wouldn't have to worry about such things.
Worry isn't good for me, either, and it tends to make me shop.
Currently, I am sitting in bed with my netbook on my lap, whilst my handsome husband lifts weights in the garage. Who is serious about keeping their weight in line, eh?
I'm actually kind of excited about this new phase in life. I don't relish the daily separation from Tim, but it's going to be new and different. My vision includes an efficiently run household, and a vigorous work-out schedule. Perhaps lunch with the ladies now and then. In fact, I may have time to actually have girlfriends again. Ever since being married, my friendships have rather suffered. It's a shame, because I have some fantastic girlfriends.
My goodness, there is bound to be much to write about, what with all the change and eating and friends. When will I ever have time to parent?
Tim, my husband, is a slender fellow. He is one of those eaters who is perfectly content with one helping at dinner. If he's not quite full, he simply decides to eat again later, if he gets around to it. I, on the other hand, don't consider dinner Eaten unless I am full to bursting.
Tim forgets to eat during the day when he's busy. I remember to eat every time I pass the kitchen.
Tim doesn't really snack. He will prepare an entire meal, consume a little, and be perfectly satisfied. To watch me graze, you'd think I live in fear of an impending food shortage.
Which brings me, eventually, to my point.
With him working all day, he's going to forget to eat on a regular basis. This will make him thinner. If he gets thinner, I will look larger. It is a husband's responsibility to be more substantial than his wife at all times! I firmly believe this. Perhaps "firmly" is an ill-chosen adjective.
Being trapped in a house with my offspring all day is going to make me eat more. This does not bode well for my figure, nor for my self esteem. Clearly, Tim is at fault here. If he would stay home and pamper me, then I wouldn't have to worry about such things.
Worry isn't good for me, either, and it tends to make me shop.
Currently, I am sitting in bed with my netbook on my lap, whilst my handsome husband lifts weights in the garage. Who is serious about keeping their weight in line, eh?
I'm actually kind of excited about this new phase in life. I don't relish the daily separation from Tim, but it's going to be new and different. My vision includes an efficiently run household, and a vigorous work-out schedule. Perhaps lunch with the ladies now and then. In fact, I may have time to actually have girlfriends again. Ever since being married, my friendships have rather suffered. It's a shame, because I have some fantastic girlfriends.
My goodness, there is bound to be much to write about, what with all the change and eating and friends. When will I ever have time to parent?
Monday, October 24, 2011
What's wrong with you?
Do you ever have those moments in a social setting where you are funny and engaging, and just on ? I didn't have one of those this weekend.
In fact, I was not real impressed with Me this weekend, truth be told.
Years ago, I read a great book in which the main character lamented her own flaws. She knew of someone's complaint against her, and she was greiving because her own awareness was more weighty than the other person's. Even though other's suffered from her flaws, she always suffered more. I felt like that.
I had to apologize to my mother, and confess to my husband, and then I had to have a glass of wine.
I talk too much. I say the first thing that I think, even if it doesn't need to be said. I also manage to insult a wide variety of folks with very little effort. I'm judgemental. Plus, I draw way too much attention to myself. Other than that, I'm lots of fun. Aren't you just dying to spend some time with me?
Once the five-day-long headache began to lift, I felt somewhat kinder. Headache is not much of an excuse, though. When I'm tired or hungry, or in any way less than 100%, the first thing I do is start saying things I shouldn't. It's very predictable, really.
But enough about me. How have you been?
In fact, I was not real impressed with Me this weekend, truth be told.
Years ago, I read a great book in which the main character lamented her own flaws. She knew of someone's complaint against her, and she was greiving because her own awareness was more weighty than the other person's. Even though other's suffered from her flaws, she always suffered more. I felt like that.
I had to apologize to my mother, and confess to my husband, and then I had to have a glass of wine.
I talk too much. I say the first thing that I think, even if it doesn't need to be said. I also manage to insult a wide variety of folks with very little effort. I'm judgemental. Plus, I draw way too much attention to myself. Other than that, I'm lots of fun. Aren't you just dying to spend some time with me?
Once the five-day-long headache began to lift, I felt somewhat kinder. Headache is not much of an excuse, though. When I'm tired or hungry, or in any way less than 100%, the first thing I do is start saying things I shouldn't. It's very predictable, really.
But enough about me. How have you been?
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Domesticity, two views
It's slow going without coffee, and no mistake. Decaff provides a convenient illusion, but it sure doesn't help me to spring from my bed.
I have a headache this morning from a new medication I'm on. Once one has a diagnosis, there are wheels that begin turning in the wide world of doctoring. One encounters more medical interference, and not less. It's a function of being Over 40, I guess.
Tim and I are relishing the days this week, because he's going to go back to work. For the past 5 years he's been on a sabbatical from gainful employment. He chose to leave work in order to be Super Dad to his kids after his first wife died, but he always knew he'd go back to work one day. Now that day has come.
He's been looking for a job for the past couple of weeks, and we've been talking a lot about what changes we'll see once he is no longer home all day. I will have to do some work around the house, perhaps. For instance, I will have to get my own decaff in the morning, instead of having it sweetly delivered to me in bed. How shall I cope?
It's been such a treat to have him home all the time. Our marriage has been like a really long date. We do everything in tandem. I like him, a lot. I like his company and his humor, I love that he works so hard, and I have, frankly, loved being spoiled. Our situation has made marriage very easy.
So, I'm curious to see what this new phase will be like. In truth, I am both excited about this new adventure, and a little wistful at the thought of the end of an era. Now, I get to move into June Cleaver mode. I shall bake and wear pearls. See if I don't! My house will always be clean, my children will always be happy, and I will always have fresh lipstick on when my handsome husband sails through the door in the evening.
Tim has been teasing me with a reverse image. He's painted me as a chain-smoking, soap-opera-watching, white-trash who screams at her kids. I'll tie a handkerchief over my unwashed hair and kick the dog. This, I find to be a very amusing image.
Change is around the corner. I don't mind, though. Life with this man is a joy, so I can only imagine that new circumstances will simply reveal new aspects of that.
Once my headache goes away, I'll be downright cheerful about potential change. Until then, I'll see if Tim will refill my coffee cup, so I don't have to get out of bed.
I have a headache this morning from a new medication I'm on. Once one has a diagnosis, there are wheels that begin turning in the wide world of doctoring. One encounters more medical interference, and not less. It's a function of being Over 40, I guess.
Tim and I are relishing the days this week, because he's going to go back to work. For the past 5 years he's been on a sabbatical from gainful employment. He chose to leave work in order to be Super Dad to his kids after his first wife died, but he always knew he'd go back to work one day. Now that day has come.
He's been looking for a job for the past couple of weeks, and we've been talking a lot about what changes we'll see once he is no longer home all day. I will have to do some work around the house, perhaps. For instance, I will have to get my own decaff in the morning, instead of having it sweetly delivered to me in bed. How shall I cope?
It's been such a treat to have him home all the time. Our marriage has been like a really long date. We do everything in tandem. I like him, a lot. I like his company and his humor, I love that he works so hard, and I have, frankly, loved being spoiled. Our situation has made marriage very easy.
So, I'm curious to see what this new phase will be like. In truth, I am both excited about this new adventure, and a little wistful at the thought of the end of an era. Now, I get to move into June Cleaver mode. I shall bake and wear pearls. See if I don't! My house will always be clean, my children will always be happy, and I will always have fresh lipstick on when my handsome husband sails through the door in the evening.
Tim has been teasing me with a reverse image. He's painted me as a chain-smoking, soap-opera-watching, white-trash who screams at her kids. I'll tie a handkerchief over my unwashed hair and kick the dog. This, I find to be a very amusing image.
Change is around the corner. I don't mind, though. Life with this man is a joy, so I can only imagine that new circumstances will simply reveal new aspects of that.
Once my headache goes away, I'll be downright cheerful about potential change. Until then, I'll see if Tim will refill my coffee cup, so I don't have to get out of bed.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Swelling, Rapture, and not a little Delight
Well, I won't be writing on weekends, nor on days I have doctor appointments. Clearly.
In breaking news, my cardiologist has stricken caffiene from my life, and so I approach the computer this morning with a foggy head. How do you people function without coffee? Why do you bother? Such lack is likely to impede my writing entirely. Though, happily, not today.
I found myself in an antique store this weekend, and very nearly spent some money. Antique stores are glorious places, full of mystery and beauty. All of those lovely old things cause me to covet. I found a dictionary stand that I still might go back for. It was on sale. Anyone who knows me, knows that I love dictionarys. The thought of having my 1828 Webster's Original Replica elevated on a stand, and permanently open for ease of access, causes me swells of rapturous delight. One must embrace one's swells of rapturous delight. Mustn't one?
Ease-of-access and my love for books have brought me around to considering a Kindle. By "considering" I mean that I have chosen the one I want, and given strick instructions to my husband regarding what he is to have awaiting me on Christmas morn. The thought of having all of the books I love on my person at all times causes me more swelling of delightful rapture. (Actually, those words can be used in a variety of combinations, and can produce a slightly bawdy image. Perhaps I should refrain from further poetic explaination of rapturous swelling-inducing delight.) I just get happy about books.
E-Readers have always seemed a betrayal to eons of books. Reading is, in my opinion, a sort of relationship with the writen word, involving commitment, undivided attention, and the act of holding close the object of literary interest. An electronic device seems rather impersonal and counterfeit. However, I am getting over my reservations. The blissful possibility of holding all my favorites in my hand at one time, moves my interest in reading from "relationship" to downright "Romance." I carry with me that list on books which I shall download immediately. It turns out that a great many of the books I love were published rather a long time ago. In the world of E Readers, such books are free of charge. The only thing better than old books full of beautiful words, is a free collection of such.
The foray into an antique store was a spontanious diversion this weekend. I find that unexpected detours are a staple of my days, as my time is ruled by the needs of my children and husband. I had taken two of my kids to the movie theatre, to meet with their cousins. The cousins were running late, and the antique mall was situated adjacent to the theatre. I seized the opportunity.
It is difficult to make plans of any kind, when there are several other people involved. With 5 other people in the house, who have individual lives of their own, and whose plans intersect with mine, I find that I seldom have a day go as I'd planned. It's easier if I don't plan, but I'm not good at that. By nature, I am a planning-control-freak who wants to also plan a little spontanious fun. Riding the tide of daily circumstance stresses me out.
Stressing out is bad for my heart.
Shopping relaxes me. As does reading.
I really need to go buy that Dictionary stand, don't I? My life depends upon it.
In breaking news, my cardiologist has stricken caffiene from my life, and so I approach the computer this morning with a foggy head. How do you people function without coffee? Why do you bother? Such lack is likely to impede my writing entirely. Though, happily, not today.
I found myself in an antique store this weekend, and very nearly spent some money. Antique stores are glorious places, full of mystery and beauty. All of those lovely old things cause me to covet. I found a dictionary stand that I still might go back for. It was on sale. Anyone who knows me, knows that I love dictionarys. The thought of having my 1828 Webster's Original Replica elevated on a stand, and permanently open for ease of access, causes me swells of rapturous delight. One must embrace one's swells of rapturous delight. Mustn't one?
Ease-of-access and my love for books have brought me around to considering a Kindle. By "considering" I mean that I have chosen the one I want, and given strick instructions to my husband regarding what he is to have awaiting me on Christmas morn. The thought of having all of the books I love on my person at all times causes me more swelling of delightful rapture. (Actually, those words can be used in a variety of combinations, and can produce a slightly bawdy image. Perhaps I should refrain from further poetic explaination of rapturous swelling-inducing delight.) I just get happy about books.
E-Readers have always seemed a betrayal to eons of books. Reading is, in my opinion, a sort of relationship with the writen word, involving commitment, undivided attention, and the act of holding close the object of literary interest. An electronic device seems rather impersonal and counterfeit. However, I am getting over my reservations. The blissful possibility of holding all my favorites in my hand at one time, moves my interest in reading from "relationship" to downright "Romance." I carry with me that list on books which I shall download immediately. It turns out that a great many of the books I love were published rather a long time ago. In the world of E Readers, such books are free of charge. The only thing better than old books full of beautiful words, is a free collection of such.
The foray into an antique store was a spontanious diversion this weekend. I find that unexpected detours are a staple of my days, as my time is ruled by the needs of my children and husband. I had taken two of my kids to the movie theatre, to meet with their cousins. The cousins were running late, and the antique mall was situated adjacent to the theatre. I seized the opportunity.
It is difficult to make plans of any kind, when there are several other people involved. With 5 other people in the house, who have individual lives of their own, and whose plans intersect with mine, I find that I seldom have a day go as I'd planned. It's easier if I don't plan, but I'm not good at that. By nature, I am a planning-control-freak who wants to also plan a little spontanious fun. Riding the tide of daily circumstance stresses me out.
Stressing out is bad for my heart.
Shopping relaxes me. As does reading.
I really need to go buy that Dictionary stand, don't I? My life depends upon it.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Facebook and Prayer
Facebook is about the oddest form of communication, if you think about it. Folks post random thoughts, or mundane details of their day, and "friends" can then comment. It becomes a virtual conversation about nothing. It's an artificial substitute for relationship.
I don't know how many friends you have, but I'm pretty sure it isn't 352, or whatever the sidebar on your facebook claims. I have only about 6 real friends, myself. Very few of the folks I've virtually friended actually care about me at all.
Texting is a bit odd, too, though I like it. It's nice to throw a needed bit of information to some one's phone, without getting sucked in to a whole conversation.
And yet,
Conversation, in the olden days, was much different. When you talked on the phone, you were anchored to the wall, so you couldn't do much else. Conversation was something of an art, involving subtlety, finesse, thought. Friendships involved the investment of time, and communication was either verbal or required the effort of a written dialogue.
No longer.
A gal I know posted on facebook the other day, asking friends to "send good thoughts" toward her husband. I wasn't sure how to do that. Even if I could formulate a cheery sentence in my head about him, the question of sending it...?
Which made me think that perhaps all people pray. I have always known that religious folks do, but I had never considered that it's a part of being human.
What if a function of humanity is that need to influence the course of events in those we love?
What if we're created with a desire to telepathically communicate on a cosmic level (if you will allow the Star Trek concept).
What if facebook-type communication is a gross distraction from the type of intercourse we ought to be having? (Yes, the word "intercourse" can be used of conversation, and not just of sex. Although, now that you mention it, sex in our culture is similarly affected. So many folks settle for tawdry and cheap, rather than pursuing that powerful passion that matrimonial commitment brings to the Act. What an apt analogy. Thank you for bringing it up.)
Anyway...
So, if all people pray...or if they need to, because it's intrinsic to their being, how ought it to be done?
It seems to me that it must resemble conversations of old, rather than facebook one-liners. Perhaps people fall in to the habit of "friending" God, rather than investing in a deeply committed, and mutual exchange with Him.
I wonder if our culture's careless attitude about sex, the flippant definition of friendship, and our misunderstanding of connecting with the God of Creation are all a part of the same fundamental wound?
Have you ever dropped to your knees in anguish over the heart-rending decisions of someone you love? When you know they're self-destructing, and you can't do a thing about it....your only hope is that God will hear the cry of your heart, and intervene...? That, I think, is part of what prayer is meant to be. Such anguish of soul changes us, and the bible teaches that it can even move the Hand of God.
What if all communication, with God and with others, could change us? It would be a far cry from what we've grown used to.
That's what I want. I want to be deeply impacted by the communication in my life. I want to speak when I have something to say, and listen as if I am about to learn something important.
I want my relationships to matter, and I really want my prayers to be effective.
Amen, and amen.
I don't know how many friends you have, but I'm pretty sure it isn't 352, or whatever the sidebar on your facebook claims. I have only about 6 real friends, myself. Very few of the folks I've virtually friended actually care about me at all.
Texting is a bit odd, too, though I like it. It's nice to throw a needed bit of information to some one's phone, without getting sucked in to a whole conversation.
And yet,
Conversation, in the olden days, was much different. When you talked on the phone, you were anchored to the wall, so you couldn't do much else. Conversation was something of an art, involving subtlety, finesse, thought. Friendships involved the investment of time, and communication was either verbal or required the effort of a written dialogue.
No longer.
A gal I know posted on facebook the other day, asking friends to "send good thoughts" toward her husband. I wasn't sure how to do that. Even if I could formulate a cheery sentence in my head about him, the question of sending it...?
Which made me think that perhaps all people pray. I have always known that religious folks do, but I had never considered that it's a part of being human.
What if a function of humanity is that need to influence the course of events in those we love?
What if we're created with a desire to telepathically communicate on a cosmic level (if you will allow the Star Trek concept).
What if facebook-type communication is a gross distraction from the type of intercourse we ought to be having? (Yes, the word "intercourse" can be used of conversation, and not just of sex. Although, now that you mention it, sex in our culture is similarly affected. So many folks settle for tawdry and cheap, rather than pursuing that powerful passion that matrimonial commitment brings to the Act. What an apt analogy. Thank you for bringing it up.)
Anyway...
So, if all people pray...or if they need to, because it's intrinsic to their being, how ought it to be done?
It seems to me that it must resemble conversations of old, rather than facebook one-liners. Perhaps people fall in to the habit of "friending" God, rather than investing in a deeply committed, and mutual exchange with Him.
I wonder if our culture's careless attitude about sex, the flippant definition of friendship, and our misunderstanding of connecting with the God of Creation are all a part of the same fundamental wound?
Have you ever dropped to your knees in anguish over the heart-rending decisions of someone you love? When you know they're self-destructing, and you can't do a thing about it....your only hope is that God will hear the cry of your heart, and intervene...? That, I think, is part of what prayer is meant to be. Such anguish of soul changes us, and the bible teaches that it can even move the Hand of God.
What if all communication, with God and with others, could change us? It would be a far cry from what we've grown used to.
That's what I want. I want to be deeply impacted by the communication in my life. I want to speak when I have something to say, and listen as if I am about to learn something important.
I want my relationships to matter, and I really want my prayers to be effective.
Amen, and amen.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
In which I wax poetic on the subject of friendship
I had the privilage to visit with an old friend last night, over tea. Tea is becoming my evening drink of choice now that wine is not so much an option for me. Tea lacks some of the soothing qualities of wine, but one must make due with what one has.
By "old friend," I mean that she is knocking at the door of 50, and also that I've known her for quite a number of years. I begged her to tell me of her ailments, so as to comfort me in my affliction. The best she could do was to note a twinge in her hip. Really? How does one get to be 49 years old with nothing more than a need to stretch?
I've found a change among my friendships, since I got married two years ago. Tim is really intent upon being my very closest confidant, and he is satisfied to have me as his best, and only, friend. Because of this, my friendships with the Girls have become irregular. Although I am full-to-bursting with my marriage, I would like to maintain my girl friendships. It's not a simple matter. Besides my romance, I also have the relationships with four children who draw on my energy reserves. By the end of the day, I am often so done with people in general that the thought of having to have another conversation can make me withdraw into a funk. Who ever met an extrovert who was overstimulated by too many people?
Of my friendships, I find that the easiest ones are those I never talk to. Which you'd think would defeat the purpose. Those ladies who are in happy marriages, with bustling households, are the low-maintenance kinds of friends with whom I talk every month or two. Of those in this category, I trust that the years of investment will carry us through this particular phase in life, and they opperate with a similar notion. Friendship is no longer group activity on the weekends, with giggling gossip. It's more a matter of meaningful touchstones to strengthen one another for the demands of life. It's quite beautiful.
I've never been one to look at friendships as a passing fancy. No, I see them a bit more as a marriage of sorts. Take Cathy, for example. I've known her since 1989. She matters to me, really matters. We only catch up a couple times a year, yet it's always as if no time has passed. She knows me, and I know her. I think it's because our core values are really the same, and we've invested enough to have that credibility to speak truth into one another. Love that.
Friendships ebb and flow through the years, though, and that can be a real challenge. It's worth fighting for, I think. Even when core values are confused, or circumstances change, I think that friendships are worth the effort. It's a marathon, rather than a sprint, so the eternal perspective is essential.
...And that's a race I can still run.
By "old friend," I mean that she is knocking at the door of 50, and also that I've known her for quite a number of years. I begged her to tell me of her ailments, so as to comfort me in my affliction. The best she could do was to note a twinge in her hip. Really? How does one get to be 49 years old with nothing more than a need to stretch?
I've found a change among my friendships, since I got married two years ago. Tim is really intent upon being my very closest confidant, and he is satisfied to have me as his best, and only, friend. Because of this, my friendships with the Girls have become irregular. Although I am full-to-bursting with my marriage, I would like to maintain my girl friendships. It's not a simple matter. Besides my romance, I also have the relationships with four children who draw on my energy reserves. By the end of the day, I am often so done with people in general that the thought of having to have another conversation can make me withdraw into a funk. Who ever met an extrovert who was overstimulated by too many people?
Of my friendships, I find that the easiest ones are those I never talk to. Which you'd think would defeat the purpose. Those ladies who are in happy marriages, with bustling households, are the low-maintenance kinds of friends with whom I talk every month or two. Of those in this category, I trust that the years of investment will carry us through this particular phase in life, and they opperate with a similar notion. Friendship is no longer group activity on the weekends, with giggling gossip. It's more a matter of meaningful touchstones to strengthen one another for the demands of life. It's quite beautiful.
I've never been one to look at friendships as a passing fancy. No, I see them a bit more as a marriage of sorts. Take Cathy, for example. I've known her since 1989. She matters to me, really matters. We only catch up a couple times a year, yet it's always as if no time has passed. She knows me, and I know her. I think it's because our core values are really the same, and we've invested enough to have that credibility to speak truth into one another. Love that.
Friendships ebb and flow through the years, though, and that can be a real challenge. It's worth fighting for, I think. Even when core values are confused, or circumstances change, I think that friendships are worth the effort. It's a marathon, rather than a sprint, so the eternal perspective is essential.
...And that's a race I can still run.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
A suitably dramatic end
Blood pressure monitoring becomes fascinating over 40. A jolt of caffeine can have an impact. Crackers can move the dial. Cardiovascular exercises.....perhaps it's anything that begins with a "c". Yes, that sounds about right. Children begins with a "c", and I know they effect my blood pressure.
I bought a blood pressure monitor that fits on my wrist. I press a little button, and it gives me a read-out of blood pressure and pulse. It's quite diverting.
The thing is, I don't have high blood pressure.
The thing is, I need it to be low blood pressure. Otherwise, my aneurysm could expand and rupture, and I could perish in a dramatic and sudden manner. You've no idea how such a death appeals to me. Not like I want to die, you understand. It's only that I accept the inevitability of death, and I'd like the event to have some aplomb.
Ironically, my life post-diagnosis has been structured to avoid such a death. I eschew salt and cholesterol. My caffeine intake is limited, as is any alcohol indulgence. I no longer run, and can't lift weights above 30 pounds. I own a blood pressure monitor and a Cardiologist, and one of those pill boxes like a Christmas Advent Calendar. (The pill box is silver plated, and engraved. It was a gag-gift from my sister on the 40th birthday. Who knew I'd employ it in all seriousness a year later?)
So, I'm rather an old lady. Give me a minute and I'll be doing water aerobics.
It's really irritating, to be honest.
My future holds the assurance of surgery, though the goal is to forstal that by a decade. Meanwhile, I eat salad and refrain from sudden movements. And I complain.
I bought a blood pressure monitor that fits on my wrist. I press a little button, and it gives me a read-out of blood pressure and pulse. It's quite diverting.
The thing is, I don't have high blood pressure.
The thing is, I need it to be low blood pressure. Otherwise, my aneurysm could expand and rupture, and I could perish in a dramatic and sudden manner. You've no idea how such a death appeals to me. Not like I want to die, you understand. It's only that I accept the inevitability of death, and I'd like the event to have some aplomb.
Ironically, my life post-diagnosis has been structured to avoid such a death. I eschew salt and cholesterol. My caffeine intake is limited, as is any alcohol indulgence. I no longer run, and can't lift weights above 30 pounds. I own a blood pressure monitor and a Cardiologist, and one of those pill boxes like a Christmas Advent Calendar. (The pill box is silver plated, and engraved. It was a gag-gift from my sister on the 40th birthday. Who knew I'd employ it in all seriousness a year later?)
So, I'm rather an old lady. Give me a minute and I'll be doing water aerobics.
It's really irritating, to be honest.
My future holds the assurance of surgery, though the goal is to forstal that by a decade. Meanwhile, I eat salad and refrain from sudden movements. And I complain.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Who am I?
I visited my blog this morning, and had trouble logging in. After months away, I could not recall my user name and password. It took several tries to crack my own code, but here I am at last.
If I am, indeed, to begin writing again (and I think I'd like to), perhaps a review is in order. It's been so long since I wrote regularly, and the cast of characters in my daily life has changed a bit. My marital status, health condition, and daily occupation has all changed since the days when I wrote regularly.
I have been married now for two years and two months, which pitiful brevity seems to detract from any credibility regarding our beautiful joy. Newlywed status means that we have not yet weathered the stresses of a real marriage, so we can't possibly have much to say. Perhaps that's so. Perhaps not. Our marriage is a very happy one.
We have four problems.
The bible says that Children are a blessing from the Lord, and I believe that to be true. The blessing is in large part due to the molding of a parent's character, and to those shining moments when a child excels. These are the moments which keep one from homicide.
Michael is our oldest, and he is rapidly approaching 17. He lives for Lacrosse, drives a truck, and is deathly terrified of a clean room. He hunts wildlife and pretty girls.
Don is the second in line, and he is almost 15. He was born sweet and funny, and also quite tidy. Now he is an angst-ridden Eminem fan. I hold out hope. Don plays guitar and lacrosse.
Faline is a teenager, too. She is due to turn 14 in December. This makes her expensive and unpredictable. She loves fashion and animals. She plays lacrosse and piano.
Aaron is 9, with a birthday coming up. He is noisy and giggly, and completely uncoordinated. He personifies uninhibited-ness. He's learning piano, and plays lacrosse.
In truth, they are wonderful people. They are also the constant driving force of all we do. Their school and hobbies take our time and money. Their emotional needs require our thought and attention. They are the axis around which our world spins....or, is lacrosse the axis around which our world spins? The line blurs.
If I am, indeed, to begin writing again (and I think I'd like to), perhaps a review is in order. It's been so long since I wrote regularly, and the cast of characters in my daily life has changed a bit. My marital status, health condition, and daily occupation has all changed since the days when I wrote regularly.
I have been married now for two years and two months, which pitiful brevity seems to detract from any credibility regarding our beautiful joy. Newlywed status means that we have not yet weathered the stresses of a real marriage, so we can't possibly have much to say. Perhaps that's so. Perhaps not. Our marriage is a very happy one.
We have four problems.
The bible says that Children are a blessing from the Lord, and I believe that to be true. The blessing is in large part due to the molding of a parent's character, and to those shining moments when a child excels. These are the moments which keep one from homicide.
Michael is our oldest, and he is rapidly approaching 17. He lives for Lacrosse, drives a truck, and is deathly terrified of a clean room. He hunts wildlife and pretty girls.
Don is the second in line, and he is almost 15. He was born sweet and funny, and also quite tidy. Now he is an angst-ridden Eminem fan. I hold out hope. Don plays guitar and lacrosse.
Faline is a teenager, too. She is due to turn 14 in December. This makes her expensive and unpredictable. She loves fashion and animals. She plays lacrosse and piano.
Aaron is 9, with a birthday coming up. He is noisy and giggly, and completely uncoordinated. He personifies uninhibited-ness. He's learning piano, and plays lacrosse.
In truth, they are wonderful people. They are also the constant driving force of all we do. Their school and hobbies take our time and money. Their emotional needs require our thought and attention. They are the axis around which our world spins....or, is lacrosse the axis around which our world spins? The line blurs.
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