I'm kind of miserly. I like getting a good deal. I have always been this way, considering where I could get a better deal if I just waited instead of impulsively buying something. I get annoyed when buying books especially, because I know I could just get a book at the library for "free." Whoever came up with the idea for public libraries...I wish I could kiss that person. Libraries are among my favorite places to be. Bring some coffee from home and it's the cheapest therapy an introvert can imagine or hope for. I just can't believe all this information and artistry is available at my fingertips. A friend said she doesn't like the library, doesn't get the appeal, and I just crinkled my forehead in disbelief. What?? Why?? How are we even friends?
My kids love the library. I don't like letting them play on the computer when we go, except as toddler-management, because they can do that anytime. The library should be for books. (Hypocritically, I surf Facebook on my phone when we go, it just needs to stop!) It always kind of grates against me when I see other families and the parent instituting a "only 3 books" rule. That just seems cruel. Three books?! Why limit to such a small number? We regularly load up with 30 or more. I hear the limit is 100 per card, and we have three cards in our family. Books are like friends. I wish I could have control over my friends like I do my library books. Picking up one as I choose and taking what they have to give, with them never minding whether I have anything to give back.
Although there is a certain level of anxiety when we are gathering our books to return to the library and one or many are missing. One time we were missing a CD for almost 3 months. I was very concerned. It turned out it was behind the DVD player. I know that it wasn't accidentally put there but strategically placed by some well-meaning toddler. It was a good thing too because I didn't want to pay the $12 to replace.
For all my miserly-ness, however, sometimes I feel like I'm taking something I don't deserve at the library and have warmed to the idea of buying books even for their retail price. When you think about how much work it is to write, and now that I'm identifying more and more with being a writer, $12.99 for a novel really isn't too much. The author probably isn't getting paid more than a few cents per word. And a person can write and write for years without being recognized, let alone rewarded. It almost make me ill thinking of all the people profiting off one person's years of agonizing work, pouring their heart onto pages and pages that will never be seen, sharpening their skill of writing.
It also seems cruel that garbage writing can be so rewarding while simultaneously brilliant writing can remain unknown. It's ridiculous that "Fifty Shades of Grey" is a blockbuster film while my brother's thoughtful screenplay still sits unread.
These are the thoughts of a writer-housewife at 5am.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Monday, February 16, 2015
Home Tattoos
The entirety of my life is inside my house. I wake up and come downstairs and the day begins. Sometimes I am up every few hours during the night and those a s "clocked hours" too. My life is bound inside this house, yet it really has nothing to do with this physical space but only the people in it. Sometimes it's only the people who live here with me, but frequently I invite others in and they become my "work" too. There are days in which I don't even step outside to get the mail or go to the garage. There are days in which the hours creep by ever so slowly and other days in which the hours fly by and I can't keep up.
There are reminders in my house of the good and the bad. The dent on the floor by the front door when my brother-in-law and his wife were visiting and he dropped their computer and dented the hardwood. I was so mad at the time for his clumsiness but now I look at that mark and remember that fun weekend. They are now separated.
My living room was regularly full of friends and acquaintances from church. When I look at our couches I can see the leader and his wife sitting there from my memory. We all had our usually seating place. Looking at the other living room I can see my friend and I sitting on the couches and my mind remembers the hard conversation one morning over a cup of coffee. It was the beginning of almost a year of angst between us. So many lies we both heard about who the other was. Yet when I look at that couch I also remember the fun times with the same friend on Wine Friday--kids occupied in the other room and use two chatting and laughing.
In my home there are evidences that children live here. Toys on the floor, kid socks discarded on the couch, pictures colored and taped on the wall. Right now there's a 12th Man theme. A few months ago there was a six-foot wide storyboard drawing about Christmas that my daughters collaborated on with a friend. This home isn't going to be Pottery Barn perfect because my kids and I aren't Pottery Barn perfect.
I look around my house and see my not-so-good moments too. The things I've kicked in and broken because I was frustrated with my life and responsibilities. The piece of the stairs I had to repair with wood glue because I threw something at it and it broke. The door I kicked and dented one morning when we were trying to get out of the house on time. These marks are reminders of my redemption. I need Jesus. For so long I didn't see that simple fact. I cannot and I did not save myself. I need Jesus. The broken door frames shouts at me when I forget. I need Jesus. I do not feel condemned, but I am reminded of my need and then of his grace.
There are reminders in my house of the good and the bad. The dent on the floor by the front door when my brother-in-law and his wife were visiting and he dropped their computer and dented the hardwood. I was so mad at the time for his clumsiness but now I look at that mark and remember that fun weekend. They are now separated.
My living room was regularly full of friends and acquaintances from church. When I look at our couches I can see the leader and his wife sitting there from my memory. We all had our usually seating place. Looking at the other living room I can see my friend and I sitting on the couches and my mind remembers the hard conversation one morning over a cup of coffee. It was the beginning of almost a year of angst between us. So many lies we both heard about who the other was. Yet when I look at that couch I also remember the fun times with the same friend on Wine Friday--kids occupied in the other room and use two chatting and laughing.
In my home there are evidences that children live here. Toys on the floor, kid socks discarded on the couch, pictures colored and taped on the wall. Right now there's a 12th Man theme. A few months ago there was a six-foot wide storyboard drawing about Christmas that my daughters collaborated on with a friend. This home isn't going to be Pottery Barn perfect because my kids and I aren't Pottery Barn perfect.
I look around my house and see my not-so-good moments too. The things I've kicked in and broken because I was frustrated with my life and responsibilities. The piece of the stairs I had to repair with wood glue because I threw something at it and it broke. The door I kicked and dented one morning when we were trying to get out of the house on time. These marks are reminders of my redemption. I need Jesus. For so long I didn't see that simple fact. I cannot and I did not save myself. I need Jesus. The broken door frames shouts at me when I forget. I need Jesus. I do not feel condemned, but I am reminded of my need and then of his grace.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
I think there's something wrong with me
I want to defeat the lies. I hear them so frequently and I don't know what to do. Sometimes I can reject them and defeat them with truth but other times it's like they haunt me. Whispers and looks and insecurities. Is it pride? Not really lies, but pride that masks itself as lies from the Enemy? Am I depressed? Too self absorbed and self righteous? Not in my Bible enough?
When I feel this way-- confused, lied to, struggling with truth, and faked out, it seems like the common denominator might just be me. The answer might be that I'm just messed up and I need to be gone, be done, quit, leave. I'm the problem. I'm the one causing the drama and the weirdness. My head knows that's not the right answer and that that's another lie. Usually I look at my phone or check Facebook expectantly looking for someone's approval or attention, and even if I do hear from someone, it doesn't fill that void. I am not satisfied. In the back of my mind, I know what the problem is. Even though its faint I can hear Jesus whisper, "Come to me. You feel lonely? Come to me. You feel sad, like no one notices you, like no one is in tune with your emotions? Come to me."
Usually what happens is I feel insecure or outdone. Then I think of a way to make myself look better, like "repent" to someone. But it's really not repentance because I am doing it for my own gain or because I want something. Even if the repentance at the beginning was true, my heart twists it and makes it about me, not pleasing Jesus. Then I feel justified in my anger or disappointment. I haven't yet spent time with Jesus, notice. When I do finally spend time with Jesus, journaling or praying or reading the Bible, it's very soft and kind but also very convicting. I have more clarity on what I need to do (usually nothing, just my heart needs to stop whining).
The conviction process is subtle and I fight it. I'd rather always be right, always know how to act, and what to say. But I can't even trust my own thoughts. Sometimes my thoughts betray me and the truth that I know to be true. Then, instead of this hum or barrage of thoughts I can't control, comes peace. Peace that doesn't look to my phone or Facebook or my husband for affirmation. Peace that only looks to Jesus. I wonder what my face looks like in the "before" and "after" because I know I wear my emotions on my sleeve and can't fool anyone.
Romans 10:21- "But of Israel he says, 'All day long I have held out my hands to a disobedient and contrary people.'"
I am so disobedient, so contrary and so undeserving. But God always pursues in a soft voice, in a patient manner and calms my craziness. He answers my question of what is wrong. Yes, something is wrong with me. I am the problem. My sin is the problem. BUT Christ died for that. The problem is not really there. The already-but-not-yet. It's gone, but I still live in the in-between time. Suddenly I'm glad for the insecurity because ultimately it should lead me to Jesus.
When I feel this way-- confused, lied to, struggling with truth, and faked out, it seems like the common denominator might just be me. The answer might be that I'm just messed up and I need to be gone, be done, quit, leave. I'm the problem. I'm the one causing the drama and the weirdness. My head knows that's not the right answer and that that's another lie. Usually I look at my phone or check Facebook expectantly looking for someone's approval or attention, and even if I do hear from someone, it doesn't fill that void. I am not satisfied. In the back of my mind, I know what the problem is. Even though its faint I can hear Jesus whisper, "Come to me. You feel lonely? Come to me. You feel sad, like no one notices you, like no one is in tune with your emotions? Come to me."
Usually what happens is I feel insecure or outdone. Then I think of a way to make myself look better, like "repent" to someone. But it's really not repentance because I am doing it for my own gain or because I want something. Even if the repentance at the beginning was true, my heart twists it and makes it about me, not pleasing Jesus. Then I feel justified in my anger or disappointment. I haven't yet spent time with Jesus, notice. When I do finally spend time with Jesus, journaling or praying or reading the Bible, it's very soft and kind but also very convicting. I have more clarity on what I need to do (usually nothing, just my heart needs to stop whining).
The conviction process is subtle and I fight it. I'd rather always be right, always know how to act, and what to say. But I can't even trust my own thoughts. Sometimes my thoughts betray me and the truth that I know to be true. Then, instead of this hum or barrage of thoughts I can't control, comes peace. Peace that doesn't look to my phone or Facebook or my husband for affirmation. Peace that only looks to Jesus. I wonder what my face looks like in the "before" and "after" because I know I wear my emotions on my sleeve and can't fool anyone.
Romans 10:21- "But of Israel he says, 'All day long I have held out my hands to a disobedient and contrary people.'"
I am so disobedient, so contrary and so undeserving. But God always pursues in a soft voice, in a patient manner and calms my craziness. He answers my question of what is wrong. Yes, something is wrong with me. I am the problem. My sin is the problem. BUT Christ died for that. The problem is not really there. The already-but-not-yet. It's gone, but I still live in the in-between time. Suddenly I'm glad for the insecurity because ultimately it should lead me to Jesus.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Football Musings
I went to the grocery store Saturday night to get last-minute supplies for our Superbowl gathering. It was very busy for a Saturday, like a hushed excited hum in the store. It occurred to me that football can be that bridge for people to begin to understand one another.
The last year has been difficult. Lots of interpersonal conflict for me personally and in communities with whom I affiliate. So much changed with our church and legitimate wrongdoings were brought forth. Everyone had their own take on it and it felt like this awkward thing no one wanted to talk about but desperately wanted to talk about. Lines were drawn in the sand and it felt like a determination of dice put you on one side of the line or the other. People we wouldn't otherwise have naturally related to suddenly felt like "on our team" and likewise people we thought we on our "team," there was suddenly this weirdness because we don't agree anymore. Well, that and fear that if we did disagree we would be slandered or ostracized because we had seen it happen to others. We weren't making it up, there was lots of evidence for those fears.
I already naturally struggle with caring about what people think. If someone disagrees with my point of view, I can get really insecure and scared. It opens the door to hearing lies. At the end of last year I heard so many lies straight from the Enemy. It feels strange blaming it on him but I really don't have a better explanation. My brain would think thoughts that are not mine. Normally I can counter non-truths with at least the most basic Bible verse like John 14:6, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one gets to the Father except through me." But this last several months it's like what I was hearing that was untrue drowned everything else out.
When our church (that we left in May, but still struggled to ignore their working out of the issues) finally closed in December, I was again afraid. I didn't know what to expect. Would my husband lead us back there, to the new churches taking it's place? Would there still be an awkwardness and tension in my relationships because of the line in the sand?
What I'm observing is that when the church ended, so did much of the awkwardness. The field is level now. People who "stayed" and people who "left" are doing pretty much the same thing that is, trying to navigate a new terrain of relating to God's people and worshipping in a church. What you think about what happened to make the church implode is kind of a moot point. It's history, and God is and will use it.
Now, back to my original point of football. It was easy to hole up with our "team" when this all went down. But football, a good neutral point has helped to soften these lines and break the ice. It almost made me tear up to have friends enjoy the game with us that, a year ago, would have broken into an awkward conversation and we'd all have left with hurt feelings and misunderstandings.
While everyone has Seahawks fever, it doesn't matter whether you're a Democrat or Republican, for or opposed to vaccines, homeschool or public school, whatever. That's the real beauty of sports. It brings people together. Yeah, it's a game. But God uses it to do such bigger things.
The last year has been difficult. Lots of interpersonal conflict for me personally and in communities with whom I affiliate. So much changed with our church and legitimate wrongdoings were brought forth. Everyone had their own take on it and it felt like this awkward thing no one wanted to talk about but desperately wanted to talk about. Lines were drawn in the sand and it felt like a determination of dice put you on one side of the line or the other. People we wouldn't otherwise have naturally related to suddenly felt like "on our team" and likewise people we thought we on our "team," there was suddenly this weirdness because we don't agree anymore. Well, that and fear that if we did disagree we would be slandered or ostracized because we had seen it happen to others. We weren't making it up, there was lots of evidence for those fears.
I already naturally struggle with caring about what people think. If someone disagrees with my point of view, I can get really insecure and scared. It opens the door to hearing lies. At the end of last year I heard so many lies straight from the Enemy. It feels strange blaming it on him but I really don't have a better explanation. My brain would think thoughts that are not mine. Normally I can counter non-truths with at least the most basic Bible verse like John 14:6, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one gets to the Father except through me." But this last several months it's like what I was hearing that was untrue drowned everything else out.
When our church (that we left in May, but still struggled to ignore their working out of the issues) finally closed in December, I was again afraid. I didn't know what to expect. Would my husband lead us back there, to the new churches taking it's place? Would there still be an awkwardness and tension in my relationships because of the line in the sand?
What I'm observing is that when the church ended, so did much of the awkwardness. The field is level now. People who "stayed" and people who "left" are doing pretty much the same thing that is, trying to navigate a new terrain of relating to God's people and worshipping in a church. What you think about what happened to make the church implode is kind of a moot point. It's history, and God is and will use it.
Now, back to my original point of football. It was easy to hole up with our "team" when this all went down. But football, a good neutral point has helped to soften these lines and break the ice. It almost made me tear up to have friends enjoy the game with us that, a year ago, would have broken into an awkward conversation and we'd all have left with hurt feelings and misunderstandings.
While everyone has Seahawks fever, it doesn't matter whether you're a Democrat or Republican, for or opposed to vaccines, homeschool or public school, whatever. That's the real beauty of sports. It brings people together. Yeah, it's a game. But God uses it to do such bigger things.
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