unexpected stretch.
who would have thought that one of the hardest things i would do this summer would be going to a concert? certainly not i. i was convinced it would be letting go. or watching someone i love walk through hell. but no. i struggled the most with walking away from my car into someone's backyard. even as i battled with myself about going or not going, i knew that i needed to go. i found out about this concert on monday and i couldn't find anyone else who was willing to bail on their plans to go. this meant that if i went, i had to go alone. by myself. into battle with no shield. i have no problem going out to eat by myself or to a movie alone, but no one expects me to talk to them. i don't have to produce any answers to questions or come up with interesting comments. the more i communicated with people about saturday night, the more i was beginning to realize how hard it would be. it was the worst group size... not small enough to meet all, but not big enough to get lost in the crowd. when i parked, i almost put the car back in gear and left. and when i got out, i had to pray. i had to remind myself that God has not given me a spirit of fear. then, i decided i should journal. mostly, i think it was another stall tactic. my hand shook as i wrote... i could barely hold the pen. i just wanted to leave. i journaled about how i could have just stayed at the wedding. about how there are times when i hate being introverted. but i went. some rather kind people directed me towards the food. i couldn't tell you their names if my life depended on it, but i was grateful for the purpose. at the top of the stairs, i met nora, who is incredibly kind. she set me down with some of her friends and gave me a place to be. i needed that. i did have to answer questions, but it didn't kill me. i was stretched... way out of my comfort zone (which, as the years goes by, seems to get smaller). the
music was good and through a random bit of circumstances, i found out that nora was at one time good friends with my friend amy. and so i survived. when the concert was over, i was too psychologically spent to do anything but go home. now, it's just like when my appendix ruptured... it hurt like nothing else, i survived and i never have to go through it again.
to walk a mile.
shoes. i have a thing about shoes. at least when tragedy strikes. i remember so vividly, my neighbor's shoes sitting inside the door where he left them last, surrounded by the debris from his door and walls after his apartment was torn apart by a bomb squad. i dreamt of shoes after i watched a house burn. in the dream, all i really remember is that the house was okay, because, look... the shoes are fine. after bob's home was destroyed, it was his shoes that i could not take my eyes off. when he came home and took his shoes off, he had no idea that he would never put them on again. to walk a mile in someone else's shoes. what is that really like?
victory is mine!
it's mine, all mine! i had no lunch to speak of today and no one to eat with, so i went to target and then on to the store which conspires against those with schedules. i have to admit that i intended to use the express lane so that i would have something to write about. well, something not quite so heavy, at least. i picked out my salad from the deli and proceeded to the registers. the line for the express lane was twice as long as any other lane, so i quickly made my way to lane 11. (yay for victory number one... avoiding the lane all together) there were two people ahead of me, each with a fair load. i glanced at the opposing lane and noticed that harvey was overseeing this supposed faster lane. ha. i scoffed at the fools standing in the line. little do you know. your cherries will be cursed. your form of payment will be degraded. somewhere deep inside my soul, i felt sorry for the naive creatures. but alas, it was my turn so i had to pay attention. i had picked up a magazine that tells me how i can have quieter rooms (turn the radio off???) and a pack of gum for the car. three items. there were three people still waiting in the competition that were there when i sailed past the line. i'm paying with cash. it's faster. no machines to wait for. my total... $9.21. easy change. there's a bagger. what?!?! there's never been a bagger. this is good. i get my change and successfully complete the bag hand-off. i'm out the door. my smile is wide. i have beat the express lane. victory is sweet.
hibachi table.
i had an amazing lunch today.
incredible food. fantastic food. the chef called me sexy mama (that's a first, i have to admit, and i wasn't quite sure what to make of it). he called dawn & lori sexy mamas, too. he did tricks with his utensils and threw food for us to catch in our mouths. yeah, not our best moments. he sang, he talked, he made music with his spatula. and once, a little plastic man let loose on the food. and did i mention the food was spectacular?
we're gonna to keep him.
my other post this morning is lengthy and not incredibly upbeat. so, i thought i'd share a picture of my new little nephew. i did these last weekend, but kept forgetting to share last week.
invitation.
last night, i had the opportunity to talk to a group of women in an international sisterhood called p.e.o. i was there as "the program" and spoke to them about taking better pictures. i'm intrigued by this organization.
what i know of it, is that sometime in the mid to late 1800s, a small group of women at a college in iowa decided that
all women should be educated, regardless of privilege. they created this group that educates women. the p, e and o stand for something like providing educational opportunities. it's now an international organization that provides scholarships, among other things, but you don't have to be a member to benefit from their projects. here's something else that intrigues me: it's by invitation only. you can't just decide to up and join. and you don't hear about it. the only reason i connected with them is that my sister-in-law's mother is part of a local chapter. they were a great group of women... they ranged in age from, say, their thirties to seventies and they were all great friends. i was just reminded of one woman, named ellen, who
must have been in her seventies, and upon my introduction during the milling around time, asked me if i used to babysit her kids. i thought,
good heavens, i hope i don't look that old. jean (my sister-in-law's mom) rescued me by saying that perhaps it was one of my aunts. ellen said to me... well, you're arnold spike's granddaughter, aren't you? yes. perhaps it was an aunt. oh, maybe it was lisa or lori (my mother's youngest sisters). maybe, i don't know. well, how old are your kids? oh, so-and-so is 48, so-and-so is 46 and so-and-so is 43. yeah. i'm guessing it wasn't me. at twenty-seven, i hope i don't exude an air of middle age.
at any rate, i was intrigued by them. i think the thing that really gets me is that it's by invitation only. it makes you want to be in it. i think that i would enjoy it anyway, but there's something about not being able to just join that makes me want to be a part of it more. even if it wasn't something that i think i would enjoy, i'm pretty sure i'd want to be a part of it. my intentions would be wrong.
i have generally steered clear of controversial topics regarding spirituality. i don't feel like i have a strong enough base to be a part of them. plus, they annoy me. i think they take away from the point of it all. i just want to love God and help others want the same thing. i have found myself exploring one of these hot topics as of late. mostly because i disagree with all i've heard, but so many people that i have considered to be much more learned than i in these areas agree with it. so i'm naturally curious. calvinism, to me, seems like some sort of ridiculous notion that puts God in a box and takes away that wonderful gift of free will. the whole idea that there are chosen ones seems off. that they can live lives that don't glorify the lord and still "get in" or that someone can believe and love and follow to no avail. it seems snobbish. i'd like to meet a calvinist that doesn't believe he or she is a chosen one. they have told me that you don't know who is chosen or who is not, though my dad met someone who seemed to think he knew. here's a thought-i would like to believe that God is practical. if we're sitting here on this earth, just waiting for the rest of the chosen to come around so the world can end and we can get on with it, shouldn't we (i say that as though i'm one of the chosen... who knows, you know?) witness to only those? why would we waste our time on people that won't get invited to the party? and maybe i'm just too emotionally tied, but no one can tell me that my family members don't have a
chance to go to heaven. and i will continue to pray for them and be a witness until it's not humanly possible to do. and another thing... God pre-determining who will love him? to me, that's not real love. that's the beauty of free will. when we
choose to love, it's more real. when we're told we have to love? we tend to rebel. or pretend to do it. we tend to take things for granted. to be perfectly honest, being told to love something doesn't work. you cannot make someone love you. they have the right to choose. i also have a problem with people talking about 'this man said this and this and this. therefore, i believe this and this and this.' and that man actually just read a book written by a guy who read the bible.
it all just seems messed up. like some snobbish, exclusive country club.
i could be wrong. i have only recently begun to learn. i don't know it all. nothing i have heard thus far has given me a desire to validate this club-like thinking. i'd appreciate any insight-i want to know if i've misunderstood, if i'm simply misguided. or if i'm right, if i'm getting it.
the third one.
i finally read the third book in the traveling pants series (big gap, i know, from the first two, but i won't get into the strange whys on that one). i literally
could not put it down. after i got my dinner going last night, i took the book out to the front porch, sat down on a rocking chair, propped my feet on the railing and started to read. a few chapters in, i ate my dinner and read some more. later, i made my way to the chair in my bedroom and after that, to my bed. i was absorbed. at about quarter after eleven, i tried to reason with myself that i ought to go to bed, since i had to get up and shower in the morning, but i failed. i got up, quickly took the shower and settled in to finish the book. let me share with you a part that made me laugh out loud.
what's been happening in the story is that the mother of one of the girls (carmen) is having her baby early and carmen sets out to find her stepfather who is traveling for business. she doesn't want her mom to be alone, so she calls and calls and finally gets ahold of tibby, who is one of the other girls in the sisterhood. tibby is not close to her mother and generally steers clear of situations that require her to show emotion. carmen assures her that the baby won't be coming until that night and so all she'll have to do is keep her mom (christina) company. soon after carmen leaves and tibby comes, christina starts to go into labor. she's fighting it because she wants her husband or daughter there and she doesn't want to do it alone. after an inner struggle and some pushing from the midwives (lauren & minerva), tibby steps up to encourage christina. she has donned scrubs over the pants and is kneeling on the bed next to christina, letting her squeeze her hands until there is no color left in them and then some. make sure you're shouting with tibby... that's when it's funny.
Tibby was just as hysterical as Christina, but Christina was pushing now, and both Lauren and Minerva looked delirious with relief.
"Tibby, I'm pushing!" Christina whimpered.
"You are! You are unbelievable! You are a star! You are the hero! You are the bomb!" Tibby was shouting; she was beside herself. Somewhere back there was self-consciousness, and here, right up here, was she.
"Tibby!" Christina cried. She was getting some control now.
Tibby kept right on yelling and screaming, the dumbest, silliest things. She wasn't even listening to herself anymore.
Contractions came, and with each came a push. Minerva & Lauren were shouting their encouragement too, but the world had shrunken to just the two of them- Tibby & Christina, a funny pairing most every other day of the year.
Christina kept her eyes fixed on Tibby's, on Tibby's very pupils, and Tibby did not blink. As long as she could keep Christina right there with her, she could make a difference.
"I see the baby's head! I feel it!" Lauren shouted.
"Oh, my word. Did you hear that!" Tibby thundered. "She can feel the baby's head!"
Christina smiled a real honest-to-God smile.
"The baby is right there.
Right there!" Tibby was beside herself. She had Christina's shoulders in her hands, then her face. "You got it! You know what?"
"I got it!" Christina cried. She was coming to life.
"I feel it," Lauren said. "I feel the hair."
"Tina, your baby has hair!" Tibby screamed. "Can you believe it?"
Christina looked like she liked the idea of a baby with hair. "Carmen had hair," she said faintly, "when she was born."
"Well, lucky thing, that is. I love hair. Hair is great!"
Hair is great.
distraction.
the big black dog bounded down the hill, his eyes focused on the runner passing by on the road. his legs move in a big black dog rhythm, his mouth is closed for possible aerodynamic reasons, his eyes set on the goal. he will get there. he will succeed. he may attack. he may just sniff. twenty feet. fifteen. ten.
oo, what's that? his legs stop faster than his head. nose is in the grass. new focus. the runner passes by with a glance.
what is my purpose, my goal? what is it that will steal my attention. what will i see as i'm running that i will notice, but not lose focus? what will i stop to look at that changes my focus? what has made my focus shift? because i feel like i have one eye on the original focus and one that wanders. i have spastic eyes. do they make glasses for that?
'therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. let us fix our eyes on jesus, the author & perfector of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, & sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary & lose heart.' hebrews 12:1-3
guilty.
all present in the court of meloncholy bloggers, please rise.
what is your plea?
guilty.
so last week was a processing week. thanks for bearing with me... though still processing things this week, they have moved to the crockpot for slow cooking & simmering. promise not to be so raw this week.
and on that note, let me tell you about what made me smile again this morning. i noticed this for the first time last week, but since i was going with the serious blogs, i didn't write of it. as i pull into work, i stop at the stop sign. i take a right into the parking lot and i notice that just before the stop sign coming out of that parking lot is a sign that says... no parking or stopping fire lane. this is funny to me. because unless you drive a matchbox you can't stop at that stop sign without being in this fire lane. which sign is right? i'm not sure. i have always made a full stop at that sign, but perhaps i should be yielding. but there is a stop sign. but the sign says i cannot stop. how do i know which is right? who do i even ask? is there a sign clarification department within our government? the yellow curb seems to be backing up the fire lane sign, but for this driver who has only tickets for failure to stop at a stop sign (i
swear the big dump truck was blocking the sign) on her record, i feel i must stop. might i get in trouble for stopping in a fire lane? maybe. probably not. but i still wonder... whose brainchild was it?
