I'm nearly positive I've posted about this concept before- but if not- it's about time.
Time is weird. Time is perception. My sister's due date is today. I don't feel a heavy sense of expectation because in my mind- she'll be at least a week late. I lack the social and physical pressures following my sister's every move. I remember it though- you go into a public place and people tell you it should be any minute because you look like you're going to "pop"- something someone's mother forgot to mention is the most idiotic thing to say to a pregnant woman (that and asking if they're sure they aren't having twins- yes they are sure and thanks for calling them fat). My sister is reminded with every step she takes that there is a baby resting on her pelvis- so she feels a very heavy sense of expectation.
I am locked in never-land with no job, no current leads, no plans to do anything about it until the baby is born and I'm able to do something. That could be as much as a year. For others who have careers or have been through this in a distant past- this seems inconsequential- of no annoyance. I maintain that perspective occassionally- but every now and then I have a panicked state of "I'm never going to find a calling" that sends me into a remission of self-doubt and never-land feeling.
Often we find ourselves hurrying up to wait. We don't manage the success of hurrying up and going- or the patience of waiting and then going without the urgency.
I just realized this is all very advent-y. The whole concept of advent (the season before Christmas in the Christian calendar)- is that we hurry up and wait. These four weeks we have set aside to practice waiting. We are waiting for the coming of Christ- which happens *hopefully* anew each year. What we (I) often neglect to remember is that this whole advent season is just a charade of the real thing. The real wait was on for thousands of years- Jesus came as a baby and still confounded all. The wait continues for all of humanity as our souls anxiously pray for the kingdom to come. So - we have arrived, and we are not yet there. We have hurried and we have sluggishly strolled. We have received and rejected. The climax has come and gone and many of us wanted to feel the chill in our bones, but instead felt a whiplash in our ideas.
I'm still waiting... and watching... and hoping.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Advice Jar: Full
Everyone likes to give advice. I'll try to be positive by saying that everyone enjoys the feeling of helping another, or having that perfect solution that makes life easier for someone else.
I rarely experience advice in that form. Occassionally- someone will tell me something I hadn't thought of before, or it will hit me in a way the rings more true than when I told it to myself. But most of the time if you can imagine a large coin jar suspended above my head- I hear advice and shove it in the jar... as another penny that might help one day, but feels pretty useless today.
I would like to now officially declare my advice jar: Full. I have no more room and no ability to cash the coins in it. They're like european coins- no use to me here. I would like to try to be humble and accept the sage advice from others- but frankly- I'm tired of it. If you aren't convinced that what you have to say is earth-shattering, keep it. Extra advice wears on me like adding lead to the lining of your clothes. If it doesn't work for me- than either in your opinion I am insufficient, or in my opinion- I am alone in my problem. It is best if you hold my hand and ask me what I think is best. Or simply acknowledge that it is a tough spot.
Why do we all assume we know better than other people? I'm just as guilty of this as anyone else (hence my advice veto). But if I let the cynical side of me peek out for a minute- I think a large reason why many of us enjoy giving advice is the joy and conviction that we are right and can show others how right we are with our sound advice.
Maybe, just maybe we all need to learn to listen and ask better. My sister-in-law mentioned the other day that it was national listening day- as a part of the NPR's movement to get people to share and record their stories. I think the problem is not getting people to share the story, but getting people to listen. I was trying not to chuckle- because all I could think about was how I just wanted everyone in the world to listen- and not talk- for a full day. Listen to silence.
Listening could take on other forms too. We could listen to a person's body language or even facial cues that they are uncomfortable, unhappy, bored even- listen and respond! Don't always respond with words- respond with what is needed. Someone is bored - shut up, ask a question. That kind of thing.
Listen and respond. That feels better than advice any day.
I rarely experience advice in that form. Occassionally- someone will tell me something I hadn't thought of before, or it will hit me in a way the rings more true than when I told it to myself. But most of the time if you can imagine a large coin jar suspended above my head- I hear advice and shove it in the jar... as another penny that might help one day, but feels pretty useless today.
I would like to now officially declare my advice jar: Full. I have no more room and no ability to cash the coins in it. They're like european coins- no use to me here. I would like to try to be humble and accept the sage advice from others- but frankly- I'm tired of it. If you aren't convinced that what you have to say is earth-shattering, keep it. Extra advice wears on me like adding lead to the lining of your clothes. If it doesn't work for me- than either in your opinion I am insufficient, or in my opinion- I am alone in my problem. It is best if you hold my hand and ask me what I think is best. Or simply acknowledge that it is a tough spot.
Why do we all assume we know better than other people? I'm just as guilty of this as anyone else (hence my advice veto). But if I let the cynical side of me peek out for a minute- I think a large reason why many of us enjoy giving advice is the joy and conviction that we are right and can show others how right we are with our sound advice.
Maybe, just maybe we all need to learn to listen and ask better. My sister-in-law mentioned the other day that it was national listening day- as a part of the NPR's movement to get people to share and record their stories. I think the problem is not getting people to share the story, but getting people to listen. I was trying not to chuckle- because all I could think about was how I just wanted everyone in the world to listen- and not talk- for a full day. Listen to silence.
Listening could take on other forms too. We could listen to a person's body language or even facial cues that they are uncomfortable, unhappy, bored even- listen and respond! Don't always respond with words- respond with what is needed. Someone is bored - shut up, ask a question. That kind of thing.
Listen and respond. That feels better than advice any day.
Thanks-giving
My experience on Thanksgiving day was surprisingly of thanks-giving. I think sometimes the hoop and holler of holidays can mask what we originally wanted to celebrate. This is cliche to say - but still true. Think about it: on the day that we are to give thanks, we expect a feast and to be with family. If we do not bloat ourselves with carbs, watch the Macy's Day parade and drink wine with family- then all is lost and we have nothing. I didn't experience the blues this year (except the no wine part)- because I had everything I expected.
Thanks-giving is a time to rejoice in the plenty because the memory of scarcity and struggle is still very alive and real. It's a time where we actually shouldbe feasting with strangers and trying out new recipes- sharing what is sacred to us and honoring what is sacred to others.
This year - a strange bump in the Thanksgiving day parade actually gave me space to be thankful. My son, a two year old who doesn't like to miss out, was not keen on taking his afternoon nap. Some days this happens and we let it go- but this day I was not interested in having a cranky toddler at the turkey table. So I cut corners, bribed and begged- anything to get this kid to sleep. Ultimately the "trick" was for Jason and I to lie down in the bed (he usually sleeps in the crib) and go to sleep with him. Jason rubbed his tired belly and he drifted to sleep. Jason wasn't comfortable with all of us crammed on the bed and felt he should help with the meal preparations. I didn't want to leave Hunter alone on a big bed and wasn't all too shy about resting for a little bit. I assumed Hunter would only sleep an hour and figured I could hang out for it. Jason slipped out of bed and I stayed to rest and watch Hunter.
I fully expected to fall asleep- but I never could. I kept watching Hunter sleeping there- sweet- breathing heavy sleep-breaths. He would muss his own hair every now and then and move his arms or switch breathing patterns. At about an hour into the nap- he woke up and asked about Dada and Grammy- I told him they were downstairs and asked if he wanted to go. He said yes, and promptly snuggled up against me and fell back to sleep. For another hour. They started Thanksgiving without us- and I was fine with that. I rested and watched for 2 hours - my son sleeping. I thought about how healthy and happy he was. How sweet and funny he was. How cheeky and pushy he could be. I was thankful for all of it. I wasn't really worried about our food getting cold or missing the big turkey prayer. I was having my own prayer of most sincere thanksgiving right there.
Thanks-giving is a time to rejoice in the plenty because the memory of scarcity and struggle is still very alive and real. It's a time where we actually shouldbe feasting with strangers and trying out new recipes- sharing what is sacred to us and honoring what is sacred to others.
This year - a strange bump in the Thanksgiving day parade actually gave me space to be thankful. My son, a two year old who doesn't like to miss out, was not keen on taking his afternoon nap. Some days this happens and we let it go- but this day I was not interested in having a cranky toddler at the turkey table. So I cut corners, bribed and begged- anything to get this kid to sleep. Ultimately the "trick" was for Jason and I to lie down in the bed (he usually sleeps in the crib) and go to sleep with him. Jason rubbed his tired belly and he drifted to sleep. Jason wasn't comfortable with all of us crammed on the bed and felt he should help with the meal preparations. I didn't want to leave Hunter alone on a big bed and wasn't all too shy about resting for a little bit. I assumed Hunter would only sleep an hour and figured I could hang out for it. Jason slipped out of bed and I stayed to rest and watch Hunter.
I fully expected to fall asleep- but I never could. I kept watching Hunter sleeping there- sweet- breathing heavy sleep-breaths. He would muss his own hair every now and then and move his arms or switch breathing patterns. At about an hour into the nap- he woke up and asked about Dada and Grammy- I told him they were downstairs and asked if he wanted to go. He said yes, and promptly snuggled up against me and fell back to sleep. For another hour. They started Thanksgiving without us- and I was fine with that. I rested and watched for 2 hours - my son sleeping. I thought about how healthy and happy he was. How sweet and funny he was. How cheeky and pushy he could be. I was thankful for all of it. I wasn't really worried about our food getting cold or missing the big turkey prayer. I was having my own prayer of most sincere thanksgiving right there.
Emotionally schizophrenic
Yea, I know- it's been like a decade since I posted. I'm going to try to make it up to you (5 people). I have felt as many pregnant women do: emotionally schizophrenic. What I mean by this is that I have experienced the entire person-hood of each emotion fully within the span of a few hours or a few days- depending on how quickly the pendulum is swinging.
So instead of being confusing and putting all of this in one post... I shall try to separate them out and post on each individual.
Next up: thanksgiving (the act, not the meal).
So instead of being confusing and putting all of this in one post... I shall try to separate them out and post on each individual.
Next up: thanksgiving (the act, not the meal).
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Dirty Dog
I brought the dirty dog in after toying with the idea of leaving him outside until his grooming appointment next Tuesday. You read right- I am splurging (literally from savings) to have my big dog groomed. 2 reasons: he really needs it, we're taking him to my in-laws over Thanksgiving. And yea- it's not good manners to bring a disgustingly dirty dog to a party. Bringing a 120 lb tub of hair and slight drool is pushing it enough as it is.
So I am waiting for the clumps of dirt to fall off onto my freshly (as of last week) cleaned basement floors. Awesome. I get why people buy those funky shed-free hypoallergenic dogs... except most of them are a little crazy in the head after all the weird breeding (the dogs, not the owners).
Hunter is napping and I'm too tired/lazy to do any real housework today. Call it what you will- I blame pregnancy and 2 yr olds and this weird back/sciatic nerve thing I've got going on. Wish I had a chiropractic friend. Oh well.
I'm hoping to get something done later today- Hunter and I are basically on our own for the day- Jason is working literally all day long- like won't come home til 930-10pm. We did grab a 30 minute lunch. I keep being tempted to track his hours, because I doubt even he realizes how much he works. But, alas, I feel like it isn't supportive to beat a dead horse like that.
I know I have it much easier than many- I am not claiming the prize of the wife of the most workaholic husband. Far from it. But I am airing my feelings about the amorphous time that gets spent unseen while doing ministry. Every long day or long week or long month or long season is always dubbed "special circumstances." But when you get out from under the cloak of ministry- you see clearly that it should just be dubbed "regular ministry stuff." Same stuff- every year. Sure, there are rises and falls, ebbs and flows... definite perks to combat the crap. However- there doesn't go by a week when I don't long for the well-paid 9-5 that has the occassional business trip and no baggage at home. Maybe this doesn't exist- at least I know it is a rare species- but I don't stop wondering about what it might be like to have a schedule and a weekend.
Updates on my life: none. No substituting calls, no chaplain steps forward. My church is wonderfully supplying me with opportunities to work childcare so that I can feel a little like I'm pulling some weight here. My house looks less like a hurricane zone- but it's tough to keep it that way (especially with Dirty Dog). My attitude is improving (really, it is)... and I do get to see Harry Potter Friday night at the IMAX theatre. Always a good time! : )
My sister (older) is due November 29th- so in my mind I don't worry until then and if it's early- fun surprise! I kind of can't wrap my head around the fact that she is having another child. I feel like we just started this baby #2 round and didn't realize she was that far ahead of me. I find out what our baby #2 will be November 30th- and am super excited about that! My hope for my sister is that this birthing experience will be a positive one, and her baby healthy and happy. I can't wait to meet Ella Marie in December when my family convenes in Tennessee for our Christmas vacation! It'll be really sweet to pass around this little one for a whole week.
What else? I think that's it... I'm tired of writing even!
So I am waiting for the clumps of dirt to fall off onto my freshly (as of last week) cleaned basement floors. Awesome. I get why people buy those funky shed-free hypoallergenic dogs... except most of them are a little crazy in the head after all the weird breeding (the dogs, not the owners).
Hunter is napping and I'm too tired/lazy to do any real housework today. Call it what you will- I blame pregnancy and 2 yr olds and this weird back/sciatic nerve thing I've got going on. Wish I had a chiropractic friend. Oh well.
I'm hoping to get something done later today- Hunter and I are basically on our own for the day- Jason is working literally all day long- like won't come home til 930-10pm. We did grab a 30 minute lunch. I keep being tempted to track his hours, because I doubt even he realizes how much he works. But, alas, I feel like it isn't supportive to beat a dead horse like that.
I know I have it much easier than many- I am not claiming the prize of the wife of the most workaholic husband. Far from it. But I am airing my feelings about the amorphous time that gets spent unseen while doing ministry. Every long day or long week or long month or long season is always dubbed "special circumstances." But when you get out from under the cloak of ministry- you see clearly that it should just be dubbed "regular ministry stuff." Same stuff- every year. Sure, there are rises and falls, ebbs and flows... definite perks to combat the crap. However- there doesn't go by a week when I don't long for the well-paid 9-5 that has the occassional business trip and no baggage at home. Maybe this doesn't exist- at least I know it is a rare species- but I don't stop wondering about what it might be like to have a schedule and a weekend.
Updates on my life: none. No substituting calls, no chaplain steps forward. My church is wonderfully supplying me with opportunities to work childcare so that I can feel a little like I'm pulling some weight here. My house looks less like a hurricane zone- but it's tough to keep it that way (especially with Dirty Dog). My attitude is improving (really, it is)... and I do get to see Harry Potter Friday night at the IMAX theatre. Always a good time! : )
My sister (older) is due November 29th- so in my mind I don't worry until then and if it's early- fun surprise! I kind of can't wrap my head around the fact that she is having another child. I feel like we just started this baby #2 round and didn't realize she was that far ahead of me. I find out what our baby #2 will be November 30th- and am super excited about that! My hope for my sister is that this birthing experience will be a positive one, and her baby healthy and happy. I can't wait to meet Ella Marie in December when my family convenes in Tennessee for our Christmas vacation! It'll be really sweet to pass around this little one for a whole week.
What else? I think that's it... I'm tired of writing even!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Blank
So if my blog had empty pages for each day- I would have some serious blanks over the last week. I think these blanks resemble my blank face these days. Not blank... I just don't feel like I have much new to write about (in terms of life happenings) and I'm nt sure I'm ready to delve into the stuff I do have to write about (in terms of soul happenings)- so I come up blank. Maybe this is a unique form of writer's block... Not that I have nothing to say- but I'm avoiding it.
Jason and I had a nice talk last night- the kind that isnt emotionally upsetting- but emotionally revealing... the kind that isn't centered on church stuff- but open to some hopeful thoughts on it.... the kind that was just a nice genuine conversation.
Some things that came out of it: I'm frustrated to be put on hold for working toward my new sense of calling (chaplaincy) and from the bowels of my own self-doubt and distrust- I fear that the fire will be gone from this moment when/if I get a chance to pursue it. I'm apathetic about writing. Have always wanted to write/get published at some point- and even though people tell me I'm a good writer- I don't believe them. I know I'm not a bad writer. I see many pieces of crap published (and selling!) everyday. But I also see the good stuff- and I'm so not there. Of course my stupid mind says it's all or nothing. I either write the next great american novel (if that exists anymore) or I sit around and putz away on my blog and not worry about it.
The place where dwell dreams, callings, confidence, ability and timing is a cosmic mess. Who is there to iron it out for us? Who is there to help us navigate the chaos and pull strings when we need to? I hope God- I expect God- I need God. But I can't see the mess- I just know it's there and I'm floating in what feels like the wrong corner of it.
Jason and I had a nice talk last night- the kind that isnt emotionally upsetting- but emotionally revealing... the kind that isn't centered on church stuff- but open to some hopeful thoughts on it.... the kind that was just a nice genuine conversation.
Some things that came out of it: I'm frustrated to be put on hold for working toward my new sense of calling (chaplaincy) and from the bowels of my own self-doubt and distrust- I fear that the fire will be gone from this moment when/if I get a chance to pursue it. I'm apathetic about writing. Have always wanted to write/get published at some point- and even though people tell me I'm a good writer- I don't believe them. I know I'm not a bad writer. I see many pieces of crap published (and selling!) everyday. But I also see the good stuff- and I'm so not there. Of course my stupid mind says it's all or nothing. I either write the next great american novel (if that exists anymore) or I sit around and putz away on my blog and not worry about it.
The place where dwell dreams, callings, confidence, ability and timing is a cosmic mess. Who is there to iron it out for us? Who is there to help us navigate the chaos and pull strings when we need to? I hope God- I expect God- I need God. But I can't see the mess- I just know it's there and I'm floating in what feels like the wrong corner of it.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Hormones?
This is the only explanation I have for what has been going on with me emotionally over the last few months (or decades)... I feel like a ping-pong ball: back and forth, up and down. Give it a rest! I feel significantly better about life today and yesterday than I did, say the last time I posted. Nothing other than a nice day at home with the hubby and a good cry Sunday to get me all sorted out.
I am wondering if this is the main difference between this pregnancy and the last one (other than the fact that I still haven't ballooned up and Hunter definitely got me fat quick)... maybe it's the hormones. My last pregnancy I felt fairly stable. This one- stability is an illusion. Who knows.
Sunday was All Saints day at our church - a time to recognize the saints who have gone before us, particularly those who have died in the last year. It struck me that Memaush died almost exactly a year ago. It'll be a year on November 21st. I have the paradoxical feeling of nearness and distance to that time and those emotions. When we were encouraged to think of our "saints" during the service- it was too painful for me to bring Memaush in full color. I could only stand a brief glimpse, hardly was able to write her name on the index card. She was such a presence in my life. During communion- I got to do one of my favorite things- help serve- and it about broke my heart. This church has grieved over the years- but particularly this year, we lost some foundational people. I could hardly bring myself to look at the faces and eyes of those grieving, some who I knew had a fresh grief, some who were grieving deaths that happened years ago and still feel just as unfair and untimely today. I got through the entire congregation before nearly losing it on the last one... then I fumbled my way to the altar with my little index card with the name Memaush scribbled on it. Jason and Tim offered me communion (seems I ran away before they could get it to me). I tasted juice, bread and tears. I conveniently needed to go to the bathroom and let myself choke in a few sobs before I collected myself to go back out. I had no idea my grief was still so whole.
The strange part was that later, I felt a little lighter. Jason and I got to go on an impromptu dessert date when a college kid was in town and staying with us. Afterwards we let our friend's dogs out and watched the tail end of a movie as the dogs meandered around outside. The end of the movie came with credits and a fun song- and Jason jumped up and started dancing. I laughed. A real laugh. It was fresh and new.
I'm teaching a class on the beatitudes, and I do believe I'll get more out of it than anyone else. I couldn't help but remember the promise from Jesus: blessed are you who mourn, for you shall laugh.
So with my hormones unpredictable, my grief still raw, my purpose questionable, I've decided maybe it's time to start being practical about it. I do better when I have a plan- even if it falls through- it guides me for a short time. I have a meal plan for the next week and a half and a grocery list. I even have a working chore list. Already some of it has been altered- but I have felt better having something. SO for my attitude? Maybe I need some infusion of truth, infusion of good. So, I'm going to try to at least bring one verse or quote to mind every day. I'm accepting all good things from others- give me your favorite verse. Give me your favorite short story. Give me your favorite quote. Remind me of the light. Warm my heart.
I am wondering if this is the main difference between this pregnancy and the last one (other than the fact that I still haven't ballooned up and Hunter definitely got me fat quick)... maybe it's the hormones. My last pregnancy I felt fairly stable. This one- stability is an illusion. Who knows.
Sunday was All Saints day at our church - a time to recognize the saints who have gone before us, particularly those who have died in the last year. It struck me that Memaush died almost exactly a year ago. It'll be a year on November 21st. I have the paradoxical feeling of nearness and distance to that time and those emotions. When we were encouraged to think of our "saints" during the service- it was too painful for me to bring Memaush in full color. I could only stand a brief glimpse, hardly was able to write her name on the index card. She was such a presence in my life. During communion- I got to do one of my favorite things- help serve- and it about broke my heart. This church has grieved over the years- but particularly this year, we lost some foundational people. I could hardly bring myself to look at the faces and eyes of those grieving, some who I knew had a fresh grief, some who were grieving deaths that happened years ago and still feel just as unfair and untimely today. I got through the entire congregation before nearly losing it on the last one... then I fumbled my way to the altar with my little index card with the name Memaush scribbled on it. Jason and Tim offered me communion (seems I ran away before they could get it to me). I tasted juice, bread and tears. I conveniently needed to go to the bathroom and let myself choke in a few sobs before I collected myself to go back out. I had no idea my grief was still so whole.
The strange part was that later, I felt a little lighter. Jason and I got to go on an impromptu dessert date when a college kid was in town and staying with us. Afterwards we let our friend's dogs out and watched the tail end of a movie as the dogs meandered around outside. The end of the movie came with credits and a fun song- and Jason jumped up and started dancing. I laughed. A real laugh. It was fresh and new.
I'm teaching a class on the beatitudes, and I do believe I'll get more out of it than anyone else. I couldn't help but remember the promise from Jesus: blessed are you who mourn, for you shall laugh.
So with my hormones unpredictable, my grief still raw, my purpose questionable, I've decided maybe it's time to start being practical about it. I do better when I have a plan- even if it falls through- it guides me for a short time. I have a meal plan for the next week and a half and a grocery list. I even have a working chore list. Already some of it has been altered- but I have felt better having something. SO for my attitude? Maybe I need some infusion of truth, infusion of good. So, I'm going to try to at least bring one verse or quote to mind every day. I'm accepting all good things from others- give me your favorite verse. Give me your favorite short story. Give me your favorite quote. Remind me of the light. Warm my heart.
Friday, November 5, 2010
So What's Going On?
Nothing. That's what's going on. Absolutely freakin nothing. I have been avoiding this blog - or at least writing much meaningful in it, because I don't have much light in the front of my mind.
I am a little ridiculous, but just hear me out. I feel purposeless these days. I have nothing that I "do." I know intellectually that "doing" something professionally does not make or break a person's worth. I can find the silver lining in every one else's cloud. Except mine. I seem to have a large black hole hovering over my head where all my silver lining goes. I am ridiculous.
I've been progressively making little self-discoveries about myself. Most of it has not been pleasant... like looking in a mirror and realizing that half your teeth are missing because you never flossed. Or something like that. And I do hardly floss- but luckily I have good teeth and gums to withstand the neglect. I brush often... My point is this: I have been given way too much interrupted time. Time enough to find the nasty stuff, but no time to find the silver, no time to look for the rainbow much less a pot of gold. So I keep interrupting myself with horrible self-image statements that are in isolation- true, but in the big gigantic scheme of things- not the end of the world. But my world is troubled.
Here are some of those self-discoveries: I am not content to be a stay-at-home-Mom indefinitely. This should not seem bad or drastic, but when coupled with the reality that I have no real alternative at least for another year- it makes me feel a little desperate and stuck. I also mix in to this discovery a nice pinch (make it a full cup and a half) of guilt for not appreciating the luxury (I get that it can be) and delight that comes with being a stay-at-home-mom. I got up one morning and realized I had absolutely nothing to look forward to that day. Now that sounds a little fatalistic, but what I understood in my soul was that I had no plan, nothing different other than live- help Hunter live, and try to enjoy it. It still sounds bad- but I had no purpose. Helping Hunter through the day didn't fill my void. Growing baby number 2 did not fill the void. Cooking dinner and failing at cleaning the house were not tasks I saw with purpose. I felt like it was another day, doing whatever.
This was not a moment of regret but rather a moment of recognition. I saw that I needed something. That need has filled me with guilt and anxiety because I don't know how to fill it in the near-future, and I wish that I wasn't going to be pissy about that. But I am. I already am. I am being impatient. I feel like I have been waiting all my life to have purpose. I get dangling opportunities, dangling promises, dangling ego strokes, but ultimately I don't close a deal.
I went to college, changed my major to philosophy and religious studies (yea- not the greatest career move)- but I was happy. I found my people. I found my niche. I loved my classes- I actually got into little competitions to see who could get the best grades. I did well- and this felt magnificent after failing and not caring about Chemistry and Calculus. What kills me is I could have done well in those classes- I just didn't care enough to do it. Slacker.
I went to seminary, a choice completely mine, completely revolutionary and completely God-lead. It was one of the best things I ever did- a fantastic place, a fantastic group of friends and classes I wish I could take again since I feel like I didn't pay enough attention the first time around. I didn't have all sunshine and daisies during seminary- there were bumps in the road- but I was in the right place, on the right track.
I got married to the best man in the world (no bias- it's just true). I got a part time job at his church as a youth director because seminary was too short and I hadn't quite figured out my track (or my denomination for that matter). Thus begins the search for purpose. My search seems to be starred with failures. I resigned from the youth job because it turned out I wasn't all that great at it, and it was more painful to stay on and do a shitty job than it was to pretend like everyone stroking my ego was right. The church had an opening for a part time job as a Coordinator of Congregational Care. This was something that actually suited me- but after two years, some unsaid drama and factors in my personal life- it was time to step back and take care of Hunter and my Grandmother. This was a great blessing for me, but extremely difficult at times. The hardest times throughout the two years I was a combination SAHM and caregiver to my Grandmother were actually the most rewarding times. Though it took therapy to get through to the other side (literally). I endured some very stressful and dark moments when Memaush died and Grandmother went to the hospital and rehab, and even when I was playing a large role in orchestrating Grandmother's move to Florida. Grandmother might be the only "job" I had that feels like it wasn't a failure. I had purpose.
I promised childcare to one family and then backed out when the timing wasn't right, I did childcare for another family and now I'm done with that- because a 2 year old, an infant and a pregnancy seemed a little much. Plus I was miserable - felt purposeless again.
I started looking for jobs in the worse economy since the depression (I don't know that for a fact- but it's close enough to reality)... and was still naive enough to be disappointed when nothing seemed to open up. I gave up. I picked substitute teaching because it seemed like a sure-fire way to get income, have flexibility and be able to be home with baby number 2 as long as I need to. Now that we are tight financially and I am sitting around at home waiting for the school system to call me for their next training, I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life.
I got into the whole chaplain kick- started looking at churches to be (eventually) ordained, started looking into CPE (internships)- of which there is only one in Northern Virginia. I basically missed the boat for the most ideal internship before baby #2 is born. This puts me back about a year. When you keep in mind I've been searching for about 10 years- it seems like another brick wall.
Here's where I am in all this: deeply frustrated. I can't seem to catch a break. Not that I "deserve" a break- but rather I just want one. I am not destitute, I am not being yelled at by anyone for not living up to expectations- this is all internal. And I am about to combust.
I grew up smart. I was in gifted classes, told how awesome I was for achieving at the level I did "despite" my hearing impairedment. I had surgeries in 10th grade and the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. Again- I was so "smart" and capable that none of that set me back. I graduated a semester early from undergrad- worked full time for 3 months (my only venture in the full-time world) and lived at home while working a part time job until fall came and back to school I went. People congratulated and blessed me the whole way to seminary. Thinking back- even one of my earliest church memories was of a young couple who volunteered with the youth group who told me I had amazing potential. In seminary I did well. I was praised for my deep thoughts, my complex hold of theology, my ability to reason and wonder and my ability to minister. I was given no opportunity to preach at my home church, no indication that they intended to ordain me, and no welcome mat for my educated services. I soon learned that as progressive as some Baptist churches were- the denomination as a whole had a long way to go in their acceptance of women in the pulpit. So I decided I didn't need to be a trail-blazer, I just wanted to be a minister- what my calling asked of me. SO I looked at other churches.
Then I graduated (a semester early from seminary too), got married, you heard about those jobs. I was given the opportunity to preach, teach, and plan some worship. I was praised for all of it. Told by someone who does not stick his neck out to compliment that I "had the gift of preaching and with that gift came responsibilities." Yet, somehow I felt like a failure in each job I did. I watched friends of mine excel in everything or something. Co-classmates from seminary who were published, ministers, mothers and probably even had a clean house. I watched as female friends started having families and learning what to do with those new responsibilities. Some remained in the work world- balancing their lives as gracefully as a ballerina. Some chose to stay at home and blossomed with crafts and more children and clean homes. Some went (and still go through) major trauma and even in the most weird and selfish way- I envy their sense of purpose and fight. I don't belittle their struggle, but I am in awe of them- and feel still more useless.
Then there's me. Full of potential. With nothing to do. Don't cut it as a stay at home mom, certainly not cutting it as a chef or maid. Hardly manage to chaffeur. I volunteer at the church but not amazingly so. I just sit around and complain and worry and fester. I'm driving myself crazy.
And this is the longest post ever. But that's what's in my head. I *know* all the reasons it shouldn't be- and I frankly don't want to hear them from anyone while I'm in this crabby moment in my journey. God alone can save me from myself. I know God will. In the meantime- this is me, raw and simple.
I am a little ridiculous, but just hear me out. I feel purposeless these days. I have nothing that I "do." I know intellectually that "doing" something professionally does not make or break a person's worth. I can find the silver lining in every one else's cloud. Except mine. I seem to have a large black hole hovering over my head where all my silver lining goes. I am ridiculous.
I've been progressively making little self-discoveries about myself. Most of it has not been pleasant... like looking in a mirror and realizing that half your teeth are missing because you never flossed. Or something like that. And I do hardly floss- but luckily I have good teeth and gums to withstand the neglect. I brush often... My point is this: I have been given way too much interrupted time. Time enough to find the nasty stuff, but no time to find the silver, no time to look for the rainbow much less a pot of gold. So I keep interrupting myself with horrible self-image statements that are in isolation- true, but in the big gigantic scheme of things- not the end of the world. But my world is troubled.
Here are some of those self-discoveries: I am not content to be a stay-at-home-Mom indefinitely. This should not seem bad or drastic, but when coupled with the reality that I have no real alternative at least for another year- it makes me feel a little desperate and stuck. I also mix in to this discovery a nice pinch (make it a full cup and a half) of guilt for not appreciating the luxury (I get that it can be) and delight that comes with being a stay-at-home-mom. I got up one morning and realized I had absolutely nothing to look forward to that day. Now that sounds a little fatalistic, but what I understood in my soul was that I had no plan, nothing different other than live- help Hunter live, and try to enjoy it. It still sounds bad- but I had no purpose. Helping Hunter through the day didn't fill my void. Growing baby number 2 did not fill the void. Cooking dinner and failing at cleaning the house were not tasks I saw with purpose. I felt like it was another day, doing whatever.
This was not a moment of regret but rather a moment of recognition. I saw that I needed something. That need has filled me with guilt and anxiety because I don't know how to fill it in the near-future, and I wish that I wasn't going to be pissy about that. But I am. I already am. I am being impatient. I feel like I have been waiting all my life to have purpose. I get dangling opportunities, dangling promises, dangling ego strokes, but ultimately I don't close a deal.
I went to college, changed my major to philosophy and religious studies (yea- not the greatest career move)- but I was happy. I found my people. I found my niche. I loved my classes- I actually got into little competitions to see who could get the best grades. I did well- and this felt magnificent after failing and not caring about Chemistry and Calculus. What kills me is I could have done well in those classes- I just didn't care enough to do it. Slacker.
I went to seminary, a choice completely mine, completely revolutionary and completely God-lead. It was one of the best things I ever did- a fantastic place, a fantastic group of friends and classes I wish I could take again since I feel like I didn't pay enough attention the first time around. I didn't have all sunshine and daisies during seminary- there were bumps in the road- but I was in the right place, on the right track.
I got married to the best man in the world (no bias- it's just true). I got a part time job at his church as a youth director because seminary was too short and I hadn't quite figured out my track (or my denomination for that matter). Thus begins the search for purpose. My search seems to be starred with failures. I resigned from the youth job because it turned out I wasn't all that great at it, and it was more painful to stay on and do a shitty job than it was to pretend like everyone stroking my ego was right. The church had an opening for a part time job as a Coordinator of Congregational Care. This was something that actually suited me- but after two years, some unsaid drama and factors in my personal life- it was time to step back and take care of Hunter and my Grandmother. This was a great blessing for me, but extremely difficult at times. The hardest times throughout the two years I was a combination SAHM and caregiver to my Grandmother were actually the most rewarding times. Though it took therapy to get through to the other side (literally). I endured some very stressful and dark moments when Memaush died and Grandmother went to the hospital and rehab, and even when I was playing a large role in orchestrating Grandmother's move to Florida. Grandmother might be the only "job" I had that feels like it wasn't a failure. I had purpose.
I promised childcare to one family and then backed out when the timing wasn't right, I did childcare for another family and now I'm done with that- because a 2 year old, an infant and a pregnancy seemed a little much. Plus I was miserable - felt purposeless again.
I started looking for jobs in the worse economy since the depression (I don't know that for a fact- but it's close enough to reality)... and was still naive enough to be disappointed when nothing seemed to open up. I gave up. I picked substitute teaching because it seemed like a sure-fire way to get income, have flexibility and be able to be home with baby number 2 as long as I need to. Now that we are tight financially and I am sitting around at home waiting for the school system to call me for their next training, I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life.
I got into the whole chaplain kick- started looking at churches to be (eventually) ordained, started looking into CPE (internships)- of which there is only one in Northern Virginia. I basically missed the boat for the most ideal internship before baby #2 is born. This puts me back about a year. When you keep in mind I've been searching for about 10 years- it seems like another brick wall.
Here's where I am in all this: deeply frustrated. I can't seem to catch a break. Not that I "deserve" a break- but rather I just want one. I am not destitute, I am not being yelled at by anyone for not living up to expectations- this is all internal. And I am about to combust.
I grew up smart. I was in gifted classes, told how awesome I was for achieving at the level I did "despite" my hearing impairedment. I had surgeries in 10th grade and the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. Again- I was so "smart" and capable that none of that set me back. I graduated a semester early from undergrad- worked full time for 3 months (my only venture in the full-time world) and lived at home while working a part time job until fall came and back to school I went. People congratulated and blessed me the whole way to seminary. Thinking back- even one of my earliest church memories was of a young couple who volunteered with the youth group who told me I had amazing potential. In seminary I did well. I was praised for my deep thoughts, my complex hold of theology, my ability to reason and wonder and my ability to minister. I was given no opportunity to preach at my home church, no indication that they intended to ordain me, and no welcome mat for my educated services. I soon learned that as progressive as some Baptist churches were- the denomination as a whole had a long way to go in their acceptance of women in the pulpit. So I decided I didn't need to be a trail-blazer, I just wanted to be a minister- what my calling asked of me. SO I looked at other churches.
Then I graduated (a semester early from seminary too), got married, you heard about those jobs. I was given the opportunity to preach, teach, and plan some worship. I was praised for all of it. Told by someone who does not stick his neck out to compliment that I "had the gift of preaching and with that gift came responsibilities." Yet, somehow I felt like a failure in each job I did. I watched friends of mine excel in everything or something. Co-classmates from seminary who were published, ministers, mothers and probably even had a clean house. I watched as female friends started having families and learning what to do with those new responsibilities. Some remained in the work world- balancing their lives as gracefully as a ballerina. Some chose to stay at home and blossomed with crafts and more children and clean homes. Some went (and still go through) major trauma and even in the most weird and selfish way- I envy their sense of purpose and fight. I don't belittle their struggle, but I am in awe of them- and feel still more useless.
Then there's me. Full of potential. With nothing to do. Don't cut it as a stay at home mom, certainly not cutting it as a chef or maid. Hardly manage to chaffeur. I volunteer at the church but not amazingly so. I just sit around and complain and worry and fester. I'm driving myself crazy.
And this is the longest post ever. But that's what's in my head. I *know* all the reasons it shouldn't be- and I frankly don't want to hear them from anyone while I'm in this crabby moment in my journey. God alone can save me from myself. I know God will. In the meantime- this is me, raw and simple.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Random Thoughts
So I was feeling tired and a little nauseated today (hello, haven't I finished the first trimester?)- so what did I do? I went and got Chick Fil A chicken nuggets, waffle fries and a peppermint shake. Seriously. I have got to be a moron. A) Chick Fil A is not supposed to be the place I financially contribute to (as much as their food is super yummy) B) I'm not supposed to eat out at all, C) I'm certainly not supposed to stuff my belly with food that could survive a nuclear explosion (an exaggeration, but you fast-food haters know what I mean). And of course I am now more tired, although I haven't felt too nauseated. So it's win-lose.
Hunter has been hilarious lately. Some brief shennanigans:
1) When playing around with Jason, he realized that he could see his reflection in Jason's eyes- and said "That's Hunter in there." verbatim- awesome. Then he inspected Jason's eyes further by lifting Jason's eyeids with his thumbs and exclaimed: "balls in your eyes!" Also ridiculously genius in my humble opinion.
2) When playing in the bath tub, Hunter is always excited about the end when we let the water out and he can watch the draining water swirl. Once the water was gone, he was focused upward on the spout- saying: "water in there." I said "yes- that's right." he asked me "when's the water coming?"
3) Hunter is obsessed with pumpkins still, and luckily the fall does not wave goodbye to pumpkins as soon as Halloween is past. We did put away some of our Halloween pumpkin decorations- when Hunter tried to save them all by claiming: "That's Hunter's" and hoarding them so they wouldn't go in the box. Hunter is big into claiming things these days- like my milkshake today was apparently Hunter's. Clever game.
4) I can't remember the other story but there is one.... he has just been talking so much- and in sentences! Amazing. Love it. And now he's napping and I kind of want to as well.
On that note. with my belly full of really awful-for-you food and of course and nice greased baby, I shall take a nap. Because I can. And because I seem to be doing my 1st trimester in the 2nd one.
PS- I'm so glad elections are over. Our phone rang 20 times a day. Jason kept running to answer it. I left it as far out of reach as possible. I'm awful.
Hunter has been hilarious lately. Some brief shennanigans:
1) When playing around with Jason, he realized that he could see his reflection in Jason's eyes- and said "That's Hunter in there." verbatim- awesome. Then he inspected Jason's eyes further by lifting Jason's eyeids with his thumbs and exclaimed: "balls in your eyes!" Also ridiculously genius in my humble opinion.
2) When playing in the bath tub, Hunter is always excited about the end when we let the water out and he can watch the draining water swirl. Once the water was gone, he was focused upward on the spout- saying: "water in there." I said "yes- that's right." he asked me "when's the water coming?"
3) Hunter is obsessed with pumpkins still, and luckily the fall does not wave goodbye to pumpkins as soon as Halloween is past. We did put away some of our Halloween pumpkin decorations- when Hunter tried to save them all by claiming: "That's Hunter's" and hoarding them so they wouldn't go in the box. Hunter is big into claiming things these days- like my milkshake today was apparently Hunter's. Clever game.
4) I can't remember the other story but there is one.... he has just been talking so much- and in sentences! Amazing. Love it. And now he's napping and I kind of want to as well.
On that note. with my belly full of really awful-for-you food and of course and nice greased baby, I shall take a nap. Because I can. And because I seem to be doing my 1st trimester in the 2nd one.
PS- I'm so glad elections are over. Our phone rang 20 times a day. Jason kept running to answer it. I left it as far out of reach as possible. I'm awful.
Monday, November 1, 2010
It's November, People
I'm pretty sure yesterday was July. I'm sort of in disbelief we've already done the Halloween thing and that Thanksgiving is coming. That's when my older sister, Kelly is supposed to have her baby- then it's Christmas, then I'm fat, then I have a baby in April with Easter. It's going to be that quick.
Is it bad that with my pregnancies (this one and Hunters)- I have never had the urge for the baby to "get here already." Many of my friends, family members, and others have expressed this sentiment. I was thrilled to go 6 days late with Hunter. I just needed more time. The blessing inside this is that I haven't had some physical reason why I would need or want such baby to evacuate. So that's nice. I'm speaking more of the emotional readiness. Many people who plan and get pregnant are ready ready ready. Jason and I both need every minute of the 9 months we are allotted. I should say want. Like. Desire. Appreciate. We are realists I guess. I want this baby- but I know that Hunter probably won't. So on top of the nice sleepless nights when we've gotten used to Hunter's 11-12 hour nights- we'll have a 2.5 yr old with a fist some days. Those kind of things. I think I dread all transitions- no matter how joyful. Once it's here- it's here and you deal and you joy and you sorrow. The preparation... a beast emotionally.
Ooh- speaking of preparations. I need to make my appointment for my 20 week ultrasound. Hold please.
Ok, left a message. Kind of anti-climactic.
So. It's November, people. I am still on hold for subbing, on nearly a year's hold for CPE, and even semi-on hold for a doctor's appointment. I'm teaching a class on the beatitudes at our church for the next 3 weeks, which I'm nervous/excited about. It's good stuff- Jesus has some seriously kickin ideas. Question is- I can't compete with the sermon on the mount- so God's going to need to give me some wisdom on how to "re-present" this info here. I get to go back to yoga Thursday nights for the next few weeks- also exciting. I am working lots of childcare hours at the church- so trying to bring home some bacon (or veggie-sausages). I keep feeling the itch to preach- so maybe I'll get the chance. I keep dropping hints that it's been a dream of mine to preach in advent pregnant. We'll see. I have Lily today and tomorrow and then she's off to a real day care.
There is a very high chance thatt I am going to dip into savings and treat myself to some fall cleaning. The following things need to be scrubbed: my house, my dog, my son's carpet, my car, my hubby's truck. I just really feel like if all those were professionally scrubbed, I'll feel a little better about the Christmas clutter.
OK- I'm going to go think about the beatitudes.
Is it bad that with my pregnancies (this one and Hunters)- I have never had the urge for the baby to "get here already." Many of my friends, family members, and others have expressed this sentiment. I was thrilled to go 6 days late with Hunter. I just needed more time. The blessing inside this is that I haven't had some physical reason why I would need or want such baby to evacuate. So that's nice. I'm speaking more of the emotional readiness. Many people who plan and get pregnant are ready ready ready. Jason and I both need every minute of the 9 months we are allotted. I should say want. Like. Desire. Appreciate. We are realists I guess. I want this baby- but I know that Hunter probably won't. So on top of the nice sleepless nights when we've gotten used to Hunter's 11-12 hour nights- we'll have a 2.5 yr old with a fist some days. Those kind of things. I think I dread all transitions- no matter how joyful. Once it's here- it's here and you deal and you joy and you sorrow. The preparation... a beast emotionally.
Ooh- speaking of preparations. I need to make my appointment for my 20 week ultrasound. Hold please.
Ok, left a message. Kind of anti-climactic.
So. It's November, people. I am still on hold for subbing, on nearly a year's hold for CPE, and even semi-on hold for a doctor's appointment. I'm teaching a class on the beatitudes at our church for the next 3 weeks, which I'm nervous/excited about. It's good stuff- Jesus has some seriously kickin ideas. Question is- I can't compete with the sermon on the mount- so God's going to need to give me some wisdom on how to "re-present" this info here. I get to go back to yoga Thursday nights for the next few weeks- also exciting. I am working lots of childcare hours at the church- so trying to bring home some bacon (or veggie-sausages). I keep feeling the itch to preach- so maybe I'll get the chance. I keep dropping hints that it's been a dream of mine to preach in advent pregnant. We'll see. I have Lily today and tomorrow and then she's off to a real day care.
There is a very high chance thatt I am going to dip into savings and treat myself to some fall cleaning. The following things need to be scrubbed: my house, my dog, my son's carpet, my car, my hubby's truck. I just really feel like if all those were professionally scrubbed, I'll feel a little better about the Christmas clutter.
OK- I'm going to go think about the beatitudes.
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