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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)