[EDIT: Oh, praise sweet Jesus-- a second plumbing company came out today and they were able to break through the blockage, enough to temporarily solve the problem. We are home! We get to stay home, and it's sounding like even when they do fix the line we'll only be without water for maybe half a day that has been scheduled ahead of time so we can work around it. AKA No going to a hotel! Yay! The biggest inconvenience will be having the driveway dug up for a week... I can handle that! I mean, I could handle being in an itty bitty hotel room for a week but this is much better :) So that's happy news! Jesus is good to us, so praise Him that we are home... a clean, poop free except under the ground seeping through cracked sewer lines home ;) So now you know!]
So this weekend I spent all of Saturday literally puking my guts out. Dry heaving until capillaries around my eyes burst. 'Twas lovely. This after a super intensely spiritual and emotional day with my husband on Friday. Sunday was wonderful, as we were able to go on an all-expenses-paid date to see He's Just Not That Into You and then we had dinner at PF Chang's (great gluten free menu!). It was all-expenses-paid because our landlords were having an open house, as they are moving to a condo in downtown Seattle and are trying to sell their house, in which we rent the MIL suite downstairs (selling shouldn't affect us, as keeping the terms of our lease through it's end in July will be part of the terms of sale, FYI). Then, onto Monday (today)-- there were problems with the sewer Sat/Sun, so someone came out this morning.
Here's the deal... it's not just simply blocked. They believe a huge tree out front has roots that are crushing the sewer line that leads to the street, so they will almost certainly have to dig up the entire driveway and replace the entire line. This is estimated to take at least 5 days, so we are in a hotel for probably the entire week. My husband is massively behind on his on-line coursework (he's getting a second Bachelor's, this time in IT) so he'll pretty much need to Bogart the laptop here at the hotel the entire time. My point is that I likely won't be blogging much at all, but at least now you know why!
So, to tide yourself over until I can return, enjoy this GRAND pictures of my awesome morning:
http://tinyurl.com/be73ls
It's a Facebook photo album, so when you get there just click on the first pic and it will take you through a slideshow, each pic with it's own description. Enjoy ;)
[Absolute, The Fray]
I'm in awe of how consistently God's word to me is grace. Last night my husband and I had a rough argument, and afterward I was hurt and frustrated and angry, basically dwelling in the land of sin, and I heard the clear call from God to run to Him in need and repentance, to allow Him the opportunity to show me how to walk in humility and love.
My response?
Quite literally these four tragic words: " I don't WANT to."
And that was that. I escaped into a two hour long episode of a TV show online and refused to deal with any of it.
This morning my Boaz took me out on an A.M. date to Starbucks where we talked about how sinful we were last night... and as Jesus led us we excavated some carefully buried sin in our marriage. Jason gently explained my role in this sin, and I became sullen and angry and chose to turn inward in self-loathing and self-pity instead of looking upward to my God.
And then, the lies.
The lies came so suddenly, without warning. It was a full-on attack. With terrible clarity they assaulted me from every direction, every possible angle:
I am just a fat loser.
Jason should have married someone else.
Jason would be better off with someone else. He deserves someone the opposite of me.
I should cheat on him so he'll have a reason to leave me.
No one would ever have an affair with me because I'm so fat. I should just die instead.
Jason would be better off if I were dead.
I'm fat and ugly and every problem in our marriage is my fault.
Jason's sinful response is my fault.
I'm worthless. Empty. Meaningless.
I will sit here like a statue and not tell Jason any of this.
I'll pull away from him, cold and unfeeling and let this marriage die.
I will. I'll make him want to run from me so I get what I deserve- broken loneliness.
I'm a worthless sinner and nothing will get better because nothing can.
I'm worthless and alone, as I deserve to be.
Those thoughts were so clear... it was as if they were on a grand Times Square marquee and I could read them as they scrolled by, accusing me, enslaving me.
Once, when I was nine, I was mocked at the local pool for not knowing how to swim. Truth be told, my family was too poor to afford the lessons and my parents didn't really have the patience nor desire to teach me themselves. But the pride of man, even in a stubborn elementary age girl, is a powerful thing and I declared that I could swim, so boldly that I hoped it would damn any audacity said mockers might have to even question my integrity. It backfired, increasing their will to prove me foolish and wrong, to belittle me for even desiring acceptance from them. When dared to jump off the diving board I said of course I would because I so yearned to be in their favor and was so horribly terrified of being seen for what I was- a lonely and abused little girl desperate for someone- anyone- to just love me.
After much fear and trepidation, walking out to what felt like imminent death at the end of six feet of springboard, I convinced myself that I'd float to the top and "swim" (doggy paddle was the extent of my talent, but certainly this would suffice, or so I told myself) to the ladder and all would be well. So, I jumped. Full on jumped as high and far as I could.
As suddenly as I jumped I was at the bottom of the pool, thrashing with everything I had...
Today I felt helpless, flailing under the crushing weight of an ocean of lies. Both at age nine and today, in the Green Lake Starbucks at the age of 27 (9x3, and 9 is 3 squared and 27 is 3 cubed, interestingly enough) I found myself drowning.
I truly was today.
I was drowning.
I'd stood on the shore of temptation, thought it felt nice when the waters nibbled at my toes, and thus I had chosen to wade in... and found myself caught up in a riptide called The Enemy and it was pulling me under and out into the currents of the sea of lies, of which Satan is master. Like a marionette with severed strings I felt him grasping for every one, yanking on the knee-string while screaming, "YOU ARE WORTHLESS", and gleefully heckling when my leg jerked out from under me, sending me sprawling to the floor and busting my face on the pavement in the process. With the pull of the wrist-string he bellowed, "JASON IS BETTER OFF IF YOU ARE DEAD", and his evil joy was evident when my own fingers ominously drew an invisible line across my throat. Satan reached for my bloodied heart string, and he jerked it with vigor, venom dripping from his voice as he howled, "YOU ARE WORTHLESS AND ALONE AND YOU DESERVE IT. YOU EARNED IT." His wrath that I am in Christ, thus not completely under his control as master manipulator, was palpable. I could feel the bitterly cold bile of Satan's rage literally gripping the back of my throat, and I was paralyzed and unable to move.
True to broken marionette form I had no choice but to receive, to feel, to accept.
When I was in the pool, I remember realizing that no amount of panic would ever compensate for the fact that I didn't know how to swim. Desire to be above water, yearning to feel the sweetness of fresh air hit my burning lungs, will to live, would never get me above water. I didn't have the option of getting out on my own.
I was going to drown.
So, with a tragic solemnity, I received my fate, felt sadness for the life I would never live and accepted that my foolish choice in an attempt to earn temporary acceptance, a cheapened form of love, would cost me my life. I stopped fighting to live and simply sank to the bottom. I looked up toward the top of the water, the sun's rays broken by the rippling waves created by a couple hundred kids enjoying the freedoms of Summer vacation, and thought, so clearly that I remember it to this day, "So this is what it's like to know I am going to die."
Today, I sat on the couch in our favorite secret upstairs nook at our local Starbucks, and embraced my certain fate- the crumbling of my marriage to one void of love, and I would end up abandoned, broken, worthless, and alone, and I deserved it because that's what I'm meant to know in life. That's what I've earned. The sea of lies raged and I simply allowed myself to quit trying to find victory in a fight I could never win, for lack of ability, and I began to sink. Soberly, with an unnerving calm I sat, still as a statue save for intermittent breathing, staring blankly ahead as my husband called out to me to tell him what I was thinking, what was happening in my mind. I could see his face above the water line, distorted by the storm, but I didn't know how to get to him, streams of silent tears chasing one another down my cheeks as I embraced the sea of lies and welcomed the certain death.
At the bottom of the pool, when I was nine, my calm reverie of impending death was shattered when the lifeguard on duty yanked me up and before I could process it I was gasping for air, my head above water as he swam me to the edge of the pool. A fellow lifeguard on duty helped pull me up and the world was a blurred haze, one action incapable of discernment from the next, as they checked my vitals and made sure I was ok. I really was- I was shaken up, fatigued, but otherwise quite all right. I guess in my resignation to welcome death, in my moment of accepting that hope itself had died, I had forgotten about the lifeguards. But they were there the whole time, looking for anyone in a time of need, ready to do their duty and rescue a drowning child, regardless of whether said child made a foolish decision and their time of dire need was of their own doing.
This morning I was done fighting. I just gave up. And then... I was so desperate for Jesus, fully aware of my depravity, the lies I have believed my entire life, and my need for His power to set me free. With my entire heart I cried out to Him, "Jesus, save me! I'm drowning in the lies." He yanked me up, set my feet on the Rock of Truth, wrapped me in a warm robe of His acceptance and love, and said to me, repeatedly, these truths:
You are my beloved daughter.
I chose you before the beginning of time.
In your mother's womb I knit you together, knowing every day of your life, knowing you are one of My elect.
I have adopted you into My family. You are an heir with Christ.
Everything that is Christ's- all good, all blessings, all righteousness- is yours, too, because I chose you.
I died not just for you- I died as you. The penalty for your sin has been paid.
You are free in me.
Lies do not define you. I DEFINE YOU. You are mine. To me you are of infinite and immeasurable worth.
Every last drop from the sea of lies that clung to my body was absorbed and abolished by the robe of acceptance and love. My flailing feet found even, solid ground on the rock of Truth. I was stable and secure. In the sea of lies I had forgotten about my Savior. But when I least expected Him, He showed up, and He saved me from certain death, death to my marriage and death to my living a life of purpose. I couldn't escape the lies but the Way, the Truth, and the Life rescued me. He was fulfilling His promise, walking with me, and when I chose to believe the lies for even a moment, just standing on the shore and knowing I needed to run but wading in anyway, Jesus Christ was there willing, able, and ready to save me even though it was my own doing, entering the sea of lies, the ocean of death. My foolishness didn't matter- my Lifeguard is always on duty.
After the local pool staff were all certain I was ok, they offered to call my parents but we were too poor to have a phone, so I assured them that I lived close by and could get home just fine. I remember getting my towel and walking toward the locker room, feeling as if everything wasn't really real and I was just floating through walking motions somehow, and the kids who had mocked me stared at the ground, ashamed, the realization that they nearly played a key role in seeing a classmate die hitting them full on. The rebuke from the lifeguards that followed couldn't have helped much. As for me, I walked the 20 minute trek to my home certain of only one thing- I wanted to be nowhere near the pool. I just wanted to go home.
This morning, ripped from the grip of Satan and my own sinfully rebellious self-pity, I only wanted Jesus. I didn't want to be right. I didn't want to fix me or fix my husband or fix the broken parts of our marriage. I wanted to cling desperately to Jesus and learn what it is to walk not as a marionette severed from its manipulator with frayed strings flailing about, begging to be yanked, but as a real, live child of God worshiping Him while journeying through a broken world.
I've a long way to go, as my legs are still feeble like a toddler only recently taking her first real steps, but my Father is a patient Teacher and I have confidence- true hope full of expectation- that I will walk with increasing resolve toward my destination- eternity in the presence of the Lover of my Soul- holding tightly to the hand of my Savior who walks with me as I make the trek.
[Let It Snow]
It's crazy snowy here.
Seattle + Snow = City Shuts Down
Seriously- I was one of like 6 people who had to show up at work today. It was crazy, driving down a main arterial at rush hour and seeing two other cars. Usually there'd be two cars close enough for me to touch them if I leaned out of my car far enough!
I don't have any pics (forgot my camera this morning, dang it!) but you can check out these various links, from the general (Seattle Times) to the hyper-local (Greenwood blog, though I live in the Green Lake neighborhood, but really they're almost the same; Ballard, the third link, is where I hope we eventually buy a house. It's like 10 minutes from my current neighborhood but I LOVE it there!). Anyway, maybe I'll take some pics tomorrow. Until then, you can see how nutty we are about a snow day around here:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/home/index.html
http://www.phinneywood.com/
http://www.myballard.com/
The good news, btw, is that though the roads were extremely frightful and my Ghettro wasn't exactly made for snow. I grew up in the mountains and I can handle it; plus, the husband (lovely man, really) camped out with the laptop and free wi-fi at Les Schwab yesterday for 9- yes, NINE- hours to get new all-season tires put on said Ghettro, so that helped. I didn't even come straight home from work- I went to Fred Meyer to do a little Christmas shopping. The only scary part was actually parking at home, because we live on a very steep hill and coming down that hill was not fun, what with the road being, literally, a sheet of ice.
I do have to say that the snow is actually kind of really fun. Like, I hate the cold and the winter, and I live in Seattle because the temps are usually in the 40's in the Winter, 60's in the Spring and Fall, and 70's-80's in the Summer. AKA climate PERFECTION. Spokane, on the eastern border of WA and where I lived for 5 years after college, was much more temperate and they almost always have decent amounts of snow in the winter (though they got a record 30 inches in 24 hours yesterday! Oy stinking VEY!).
The deal is that it's kind of fun, though, because some 80% (total guess, I can't lie!) of my Facebook friends live in either the Seattle area or Spokane, so it's been fun to peruse the gazillion photos people have posted of the crazy snow. It's kind of a cool feeling, being bonded over the shared experience. And seeing kids sledding down the roads no one dare drive on was pretty cool, too. Oh, and best of all- my sexy JasFace used some pool deicing stuff after shoveling our sidewalks so ours are the only clear ones on the block- pretty sweet :)
Anyway... rather uneventful day. I didn't eat enough- I was so caught up in conversation (both of my employers were home today, since one works from home mostly and the other had a snow day and didn't have to go to work; mutual friends brought over their baby and it was really fun!) that I only ate one small piece of pizza and then forgot to eat more, and by 4pm I was SO FREAKING HUNGRY. Dinner was healthy, though- simple rice with a wee bit of Tamari sauce (gluten free equivalent of soy sauce, basically) and a chicken breast grilled on a grill pan on the stove with salt and pepper to flavor- perfect! So tasty. The 4 almond rocas and 2 servings of chocolate and 4 pieces of candy (Applets and Cotlets, for you Washingtonians) were not so healthy though... meh.
I'm mostly just rambling and I feel like I had better things to say but I can't remember them now, so I'll just be done now :)
[I'm Not Alright, Sanctus Real]
I know I haven't been around all week, and I can't even really apologize because there's not much I've been able to do about it. My half-in wisdom tooth is abscessed which means I am in crazy pain in my jaw, ear, lymph nodes, head, etc. I have a dentist appointment Monday morning at 7 am... not only is Monday normally a day I have off, which means sleeping in, I'll also miss yet another water aerobics (I haven't been all week due to the tooth pain [Monday and today, Saturday], plus my nanny schedule was four days this week so I couldn't go Friday), and it's my first wedding anniversary. We still hope to do fun stuff (the plan is to go to Pike Place Market and the waterfront since we don't ever really go to that part of Seattle) if I'm not in too much pain.
I'm nervous because I know I'll have to get my wisdom teeth out. I'll just be getting a deep clean, hopefully some antibiotics or something to deal with the abscess, and a verdict on how impacted my wisdom teeth are. Hopefully I won't have to be referred out to a specialist. Specialists + Dentistry = $$$.
I'm stressed about money right now. I'm trying to trust God, but it's hard. A few months ago Jason tried to be responsible and do right by his employer by letting him know about a possible job change circa October 1. As I've mentioned, Jas just started school this week to get a second bachelor's degree, being as his poli-sci one hasn't proved much use, this time in IT (basically, computers; probably with an emphasis on software development). He's trying to find a job in the IT field while he's going to school to basically build up his on-the-job experience as he gets the degree to back it up. He had a few possibilities for this fall, so he wanted to let his boss know so that he doesn't leave him high and dry-- you can't just train someone to clean pools at the caliber Jason's company does in a week the way you can with, say, an office or retail job.
Anyway, long story made short(er), his boss has another employee who currently works part time for Jason's company and another who would make the move to full time if Jason leaves. Jason spoke with said employee- let's all him Bernie- and said that he might be leaving in October and if he found another job he'd try and get more like 4 weeks notice in order to work with Bernie before hand to make the switch as smooth as possible. Bernie took this maybe to mean definitely and put in his two weeks notice at his other job, which is already interviewing replacements, and since Jason is the one planning to eventually leave and Bernie is making the move to full time, J's boss told him that as of October 1 he's going to be cut to part time so Bernie can become full time.
When Jas told me this yesterday I cried. I still want to cry. We're trying so hard to be wise stewards with money, to pay off debt and stop being under this burden of being $80k in debt (90% of that is student loans) with no savings, crappy cars, and no room for error. We have $600 in medical bills from my back injury, and now face who knows how much with my certain impending "third molar extraction", not to mention the fact that my back has gone from almost fully healed to progressively worse and worse since I started working again.
With the stress and the pain I have pretty much become limited to resting whenever I'm not working at my nanny job. Thus, more of the cleaning duties are on Jason and I'm not being disciplined with eating. I even binged and purged two days in a row this week. I'm depressed and afraid to let Jesus in, so I flee from Him and make halfhearted attempts at best to read my Bible and spend time with Him. I know He's wooing us, drawing us to Him, to trust Him, and I know that He's not punishing us or trying to destroy us, but I am weary. I want to respond correctly, but right now I don't even know where to start. Plus, I'm in a more intense than usual PMS state right now, so my emotions are crazy on top of all of the stuff going on.
Hardest of all is that God made yet another idol very clear to me yesterday-- security. I crave security, particularly financial security. This is why I stress out whenever Jason bungles finances (I have never had an overdraft in my life and we've had probably 10 since we got married and he's always been in charge of finances, and most of them have just been stuff like forgetting to enter a receipt and not staying on top of syncing our bank statements with Microsoft Money) and I get really harsh with him and think that I'd do a better job and I get so angry. Yet I've never pushed taking over because I just know it wouldn't be healthy and I need to find a productive way to help him- like maybe just being more helpful on the administrative end, entering receipts and such- without trying to be in control. He's not a control freak, but I am, and I think I need to exhort him to get better with handling the finances, not just take over. And to be clear- we plan the budget together, but he has always been the one to do all of the legwork after we discuss numbers.
Anyway- the security issue is huge. I want to be out of debt, so save like $40k for a down payment on a house, to get better cars (imagine being able to drive our own car to visit family and not have to rent one!), and to have babies. I don't necessarily want it all this second, but every time something interrupts the plan I get really upset. As a result, I don't take care of myself. I wouldn't have made the dentist appt unless Jason had basically forced me to- he looked up local providers with our insurance, had the page open on our computer, left me a sticky note on the computer telling me to make an appt, and he called me three times to make sure I did it. I just hate to spend money on my health. I have always been this way. I don't even stress about Jason's health, but I put off spending money on my own until I'm basically forced to. This is why I haven't been to the dentist in ten years and why my back is probably getting worse, because I don't want to deal with all of the appts and money spent and medications and crap. Plus, at this point, I fear that the answer may be surgery. Back surgery means missing possibly months of work, and as a nanny this could cost me my job. It's all too heavy and I would rather just hope that it will get better.
Also... Jason and I are looking into something through our church, but I finally am broken enough to admit that I need help. I can't do this on my own. I never intend to binge and purge, and when I do it's like there's an off-switch. I just turn my conscience and any ear for listening to the Holy Spirit off and forge ahead even though I know it's sin. I am so incredibly self-destructive, and I'll save it for another post, but I've been thinking a lot about the fact that I really don't love myself well. The love I have for me is an extremely selfish and destructive love and I'm to the point where I feel like I'm at the end of what I can do on my own. Jason is so supportive, and he loves me, but he just doesn't know what to do. No husband should ever have to wonder if the only way to help their wife is to put locks on the refrigerator and cupboards so she can't get to the food, thus preventing her from binges. I just think all of the stuff going on in me is too heavy to expect him- or me- to figure out on our own and pat answers and books won't do it. I have all of the knowledge in my head, I'm very self-aware of the problems and know what I'm doing, and even want to stop, and I truly want to honor Jesus and have intimacy with Him, to be obedient... and yet I just don't, and the roller coaster of ups and downs is making me sick.
The thing is, when I had my really convicting experience a few weeks ago, I really meant it. It wasn't contrived- the Lord spoke and I heard Him, and I set about making the changes to be more obedient. Then, my back started hurting more and more, and now this tooth thing, plus the sudden financial issues facing us (yet again), and it's as if everything bit of progress was just ripped to shreds. And I honestly see this as a good thing, because it's forcing me to realize how truly in need of help I am, but I am finally at the end of me, what I can do on my own. If I don't seek help now I fear never changing. And trust me- I hate needing help. I have always been so independent, and so strong, and suddenly I'm frail and my life is literally hanging in the balance. Though some may disagree with me, I think getting counsel from outside of my church would be utterly pointless, so we're looking into either setting up counsel with a leader in the church or getting more information on something our church is starting called redemption groups. Either way, we need help.
I'll let you know how that goes as things develop.
My back is literally screaming at me right now, and I'm tired. But I'll end on a slightly lighter note- I've been watching a LOT of HGTV since yesterday afternoon, being as I've been either on the couch or in the chair- whatever position is least painful for my back at any given moment- and it spurred me to just peruse houses in Ballard, where we're hoping to buy (the idea is 2-4 years, but who knows what God has for us between now and then) and I found one I really like. It's the kind of place where I can really envision making it our own, from things as simple as just our stuff in it to paint to renovation projects. It's a pretty great starter house, basically my realistic-dream first home. By this I mean not the 2.2 million dollar mansion mansion- a true dream home- but a realistic-dream because it's what would be more our price-range for this area but it also includes a lot of elements I really, really want, such as an open flow from kitchen to dining to living room, awesome kitchen (though it needs a remodel re: floors and counter tops, but that's cool with me), a library!, fireplace, hardwood floors, nice curb appeal, AMAZING patio for entertaining in back, etc. Anyway, to give you a feel for my taste, go check it out here. There are lots of pictures; don't you just love the way the style stays true to the craftsman design, including architectural elements like the arches? I'd add crown molding throughout, but I love the unique layout-- so much better than today's development houses, so ticky tacky and plain best, contrived at worst when architects try to make cheap box houses seem as authentic as stuff from 80 years ago. It just doesn't work. But I love this house-- isn't the library awesome? Such a dream feature of ours! And that patio just makes me want to cry, it's so beautiful. Maybe I'll like save that address and when we enter the market someday see if it's back on it. But I digress.
Now, I must sleep. I do love you all and am grateful for your continued support, and I'm sorry that I haven't responded to e-mails, comments, FB messages, etc all week. It's nothing personal- this is the first time I've been at the computer for any length of time other than to check e-mail / Facebook real quick.
[Where I Stood, Missy Higgins]
I feel so good that I worked out this morning. I still love water aerobics! That's a good thing since it will be my main exercise for awhile. Finances and my back acting up have led Jas and I to wait until at least October to start personal training. I want to do it, but I am also worried that it's too much, too soon... I should prove that I can stick with water aerobics for at least a month before we spend another $150 on start-up costs and then $150 a month on training sessions for a year. Plus, with my back acting up, I just get nervous about making big financial commitments. So, we shall see.
In other news, I almost died driving home from LA Fitness today. It was rather ironic- I was really annoyed with people on the streets. First, I was waiting to turn left and some lady who clearly had no idea where she was sat in the median turn-lane on the perpendicular street, perfectly in front of me, thus blocking me from turning, for a full 10 seconds (a lifetime in the driving world) because she didn't know what to do. Then, some guy not using one of the GAZILLION crosswalks on E Green Lake Way literally meandered about in the road, super slow, because apparently oncoming traffic is of no concern to him. I was annoyed and had just prayed, "Lord, help me to stop thinking people suck", because I recognized that I was not being gracious in the least bit, when I noticed the guy behind me was talking on his cell phone using a "hands free" device- one of those wired ear pieces you plug into your phone with a microphone built into the cord. Those microphones always suck, and he was holding his up to his mouth.... totally rendering the "hands free" part worthless.
As an aside, here: as of June it became illegal to talk on the cell while driving without a hands free device... I wonder where this guy would fall under the law. Technically he had a hands free device but he was still using his hands. Regardless of the letter of the law the spirit is that people will focus on driving and be less distracted by talking. As you'll see, it sure didn't help in this case.
So, soon after my prayer to not think everyone on the road- pedestrian or driver- sucks, I turned on my blinker to turn left. After a few hundred feet I stopped at my turn, because there was oncoming traffic and the road is only two lanes wide. I looked in my rearview mirror and didn't even have time to scream because the guy behind me, still talking on his phone, was fidgeting with the wire and didn't realize I had stopped. My heart threw up in that moment, because I drive the Ghettro (ghetto + '91 Geo Metro = Ghettro) and he was in a big Volvo station wagon going 40 mph. The oncoming car was way too close for me to try and gun it across to the left, so I really just had to sit there and watch him speeding toward me. All within a split second he realized I was stopped and driving the Ghettro actually saved my life, or at least my general health, because it's so tiny that he was able to swerve around me to the right. There's no way he could have stopped, and I had nowhere to go, so had I even a Civic or slightly larger car and he not had room or had there been a cyclist it would have been horrible and I'd probably be in the hospital right now, because if he hit me it probably would have sent me into the oncoming traffic and there were like 3 cars coming. Scary. And seriously- this all happened within no more than 1 full second- that's how close it was. My heart rate didn't slow down for a good five minutes, and I was so grateful for the miss part of the near miss that I couldn't even be mad at the guy. Praise Jesus for the Ghettro (I never thought I'd actually say that!)
Oy vey.
This reminds me of a funny story, because when driving (or when I'm with my husband and he's driving) anytime another driver does something I don't like- be it stupid or no- I say, "IDiot!", with varying levels of force. I don't even have to actually be upset, everyone is just an idiot. Jas told me that Pastor Mark used to do the same thing, but then when his kids got to be a few years old and talking he started noticing that whenever the family was driving somewhere he'd hear choruses of, "IDiot!", from the back seat. He quickly repented, since that's not really the best way to model the love of Christ to your children. I suppose I should stop, too, but I haven't so every time I say it Jason will bust up laughing. Fancy.
Beyond that, I haven't had my quiet time yet (I need to go shower first; I like to have my QT while in my cozy bathrobe and with my towel still on my head) and I need to do some shopping plans-- we finally can go to Costco and stock up on stuff! We have like 10 Q-Tips left, need basically all laundry stuffs, on and on. We like to buy our meat in bulk there and then plan meals based mostly on that, buying the produce and such each week, usually from Trader Joe's. We have like 1 chicken breast in the freezer and not much else, so it will be good to get back into our rhythm, but in order to not overspend or under prepare I need to have a list made, which will take some time.
I was given a mini-food pro by T (the wife/mother in the family I nanny for) so I decided to use it to chop up our garlic so it would just be ready for use when I cook.
Note: A trick I learned from my beloved Becca (which I believe she learned from Rachael Ray) for getting the garlic out of its wrapping is to set a big knife on top of the clove, flat, and then, while holding the knife carefully in place with one hand (I use my right), pop the heel of your other hand onto the knife. It slightly crushes the glove but the skin comes right off- 'tis FANtastic!
I put all of the peeled garlic and a few TB of olive oil into the food pro and...
... ended up with paste instead of chopped garlic. I was just pulsing on low, so I'm not sure how to get the garlic in small chunks without paste. It still tasted totally awesome and rocked the flavor of my spaghetti sauce, despite the odd consistency.
A stroke of genius hit when I was cleaning out the garlic paste from the food pro bowl, so I added a stick of butter to about 2 TB of the paste and some parsley to create an AMAZING garlic butter for toast and such. It made seriously awesome toast-- I just put some- a little under a TB- on a slice of whole wheat bread, popped 'er under the broiler and voila! delicious garlic bread :)
Onto the actual spaghetti-- I started with a TB of olive oil in the pan, because this is extra-lean ground turkey and it needed some sort of fat to cook in. I added one of my favorite spice blends- a touch of coriander and cumin, a pinch of sea salt, lots of fresh cracked black pepper, and a big dose o' parsley flakes. Sometimes I do oregano in spaghetti but it's so average to do oregano in "Italian" food so I didn't this time.
Once the meat was done I put in about 3/4 of a red onion and quartered and chunked zucchini-- so festive! Sometimes I add various peppers but our budget wasn't affording us the luxury this month.
We LOVE these noodles- and they're so healthy! Plus, TJ's makes good EV olive oil. We normally buy TJ's sauce, too, but Safeway had a buy one get one free sale on Classico, thus that's what we used this time. I'm normally a garlic girl, but Jas picked this and it was still good 'n tasty.
After the veg were able to cook a bit- maybe 3 minutes- I added the sauce and reduced the heat to low, for about 5 minutes while the noodles finished cooking.
Once the noodles were finito I tossed them in and this was the final product- I love how the zucchini adds such color and just perks up this dish. Plus, we split this into four servings (750 cal per serving, which is perfect for our daily caloric needs right now), which meant a whole zucchini per serving, which was really filling. It's way more fun than a side salad... I'm not big on side salads. I'm a single dish kind of girl when possible, so I try to get as much as I can into the main dish, like I did with adding zukes and spinach to our pizza (which I'm pretty sure we're doing again tonight!). When I do salad I just put protein (meats, nuts, eggs, etc) straight into the salad. Some may not do things this way, but it works for me and Jas doesn't mind.
So that was our yummy dinner Wednesday and Thursday nights. As a bonus I'm sharing a few things I bought this morning after water aerobics since there is a Ross Dress For Less right across the highway from my gym. I'm thrifty and don't care if my stuff is from Ross or Pottery Barn so long as it was reasonably priced, solid quality, and looks good.
I bought these pillows to add a "pop" of color to the otherwise understated couch. You can't see it, but this red coordinates really well with our chair; plus, they compliment the guitar in the corner well. Also, I like mixing the combo of the muted microsuede in the loveseat and the almost metallic sheen of the pillows.
The only bummer is the ugly ottoman peeking out down in the bottom right corner- we will replace that, I just didn't find anything I liked today. I'll keep looking. I did find FANTASTIC chairs in a style I love- high backed with simple, modern lines (similar to this but without the weird artsy thing connecting the legs, slightly boxier and covered entirely in chocolate brown microsuede) that would have perfectly matched our decor and the general design theme I have in my mind for the direction our home's "look". Too bad they were $80 each even at Ross. Such is life.
Last but not least I bought this as a new gym bag. You can sort of see my other one to the right, the pink / gray Adidas bag; it's just a simple drawstring deal and not very big, so it's tough to get in my huge, cozy towel and extra clothes, plus I can't put in tennis shoes so if I ever decide to do any other workout at the gym I have to carry them and I always end up forgetting them (I wear my Crocs to wat aer because I go already in my pool outfit with a hoodie over the top, so all I have to do is take off the hoodie and Crocs and I'm good to go).
Anyway, this is actually luggage so it's really sturdy with great pockets and it will double as an overnight bag when we go on short trips- my only luggage are two huge Samsonite suitcases, which aren't exactly conducive to one nighters or group weekends! Plus, it's totally roomie and cute... I like that it doesn't look like every other plain black bag, which can get confusing in a room full of naked women with their gym bags open and about. I'll tell funny naked lady stories in some other post.
Anyway, this is actually luggage so it's really sturdy with great pockets and it will double as an overnight bag when we go on short trips- my only luggage are two huge Samsonite suitcases, which aren't exactly conducive to one nighters or group weekends! Plus, it's totally roomie and cute... I like that it doesn't look like every other plain black bag, which can get confusing in a room full of naked women with their gym bags open and about. I'll tell funny naked lady stories in some other post.
A'ight... I should go shower now and get about my day. Have a fabulous weekend!
[Broken, Lifehouse]
I won't write a super long post, because for no apparent reason I'm really irritable today (I blame it on the hot weather and the fact that I'm ridiculously sunburned on my chest and scalp from my outside lunch on Thursday). I try to be careful about writing when I'm not particularly jovial because I tend to be a real jerk. [Edit: I'm a few paragraphs from finishing and I lied, because this ended up being (yet another) long one... but I've managed to avoid being a jerk, so I think we're all good ;) ]
But I do want to clarify something, because it's been nagging at me to get it said. My last post was certainly honest, and even my husband was amazed that I dare to admit the thoughts that run through my head, so (self) destructive they are. I know from responses I've received (via comments and e-mail and the like) that many people have similar struggles, and it is encouraging to know I'm not alone.
That said, I am not certain it was clear that some of the darker thoughts that plague me, namely the insecurity / no one wants me around beasts, aren't things I think are actually true. I've been thinking a lot about this, because I've always kind of assumed that the difference between head and heart is that your head, typically more logical, contains what you know, and your heart, infinitely more emotional, holds what you believe.
The assumption, then, is that if you don't get your heart on the same page as your (oh-so-much-the) wiser head then you are in trouble because the heart determines how you live your life. This is partially true, I think, because as the Bible dictates in Proverbs 4:23 "the heart is the wellspring of life" which essentially means that we live out what is in our heart.
My error has oft been in thinking that if I have a bad thought, even once, then it defines me. I define my college years, for example, as me being insanely insecure and waiting to be hurt. But, as goes the complexity of life, it's not that simple. I also had many times where I was secure in who I was, how my friends felt about me, etc. I knew I was loved-- college was the first time I ever learned what unconditional love felt like, such were the amazing relationships I had. I tend to be so black and white... if I gaze up on my college years as a piece of art, a canvas displaying a plethora of colors, and then note the negative black vein that peeks in and out of everything else I abruptly decide to take a gallon of black matte paint and douse the entire thing. I'm that convinced one part of me, be it dominant or subtle, defines me.
Really, I think much of what I experienced in my college church is at the helm on this one. One issue- sort of serious had it ever become more, but overall honestly not something to revolve one's life around- defined me and as I mentioned in my last post, I wasn't just paranoid- my "indiscretions" (laughable to call it that, and someday I'll stop being so cryptic but I'm not quite there yet) were discussed at length in numerous staff meetings. I walked away convinced that the only way to grow is to figure out the worst thing about me and then to beat myself into submission (to whom, I don't know... it wasn't exactly based on Jesus) in order to conform to what a "good" Christian looks like. I haven't always been able to believe that Paul's and Peter's are equally loved by God.
This brings me to my point- what didn't quite come out clear is that I don't actually believe that my college friends don't care about me, or that most people who say they love me are waiting to finally have an excuse to say saynonara and cut all ties. Terms like head and heart are more akin to spirit-led wisdom and emotions-based foolishness. Yes, foolish is a harsh term, but honestly many of those insecure thoughts are based on the deeply rooted lie that no one- Jesus included- can love me. This allows me, then, license to live how I want because if Jesus doesn't love me then what's the point of obeying Him? This is prime foolishness, really the ultimate prideful act that denies Christ. That's Foolishness with a capital F, because it's the exact opposite of submitting to Christ.
Instead of being filled with peace and joy I tumultuously tumble (that's a fun alliteration... gotta remember that one) down, down, down an endless pit in the House of Tami. The HoT is pretty much an outhouse (have I ever mentioned my desire to start a rock band called Honey Bucket? because now isn't really the best time...) and, really, who chooses to set up residence in the rancid squalor of an outhouse when they could be living in their Father's mansion? Apparently, I do. Not all of the time, but frequently enough that I'm used to the stench and find it rather tolerable.
This creates quite a quandary. When I'm being led by my emotions (the negative ones, at least... I'm not making the case that emotions are inherently evil; they're not. Being created in the image of God means that He, too, has emotions, only His aren't sinful whereas ours are tainted by sin and thus can lead to badness), choking on the sewage that drowns me, the thoughts of insecurity and distrust, it's not pretty. Understatement? Yes. But conventional wisdom says just don't go there! Don't get caught up in the badness! When you smell rotten feces on the horizon run far, far away! Were I perfect, no longer a sinner, I sure would, believe you me.
So, until I'm perfect (aka dead to this world and in the presence of Jesus) I'll likely continue to struggle with emotional thoughts rooted in sinful insecurity. The fact that I have been burned, along with the negative things I see in myself , will fuel the fire and I'll temporarily drown myself in the defecation that is sin-led emotions. The only options are to either be honest about it or try and pretend I'm so deeply into Jesus that I'm no longer a sinner, as thus incapable of struggling with such things anymore. Option B is pretty much the path that leads directly to hell, no passing go and no collection of $200, so I'll keep on with the first one.
I hope, though, that it's clear that while horrible thoughts do still happen, I'm not saying they're true and when I'm able to get away from those more emotional moments I know that I am loved and people aren't out to get me. Sure, people will still hurt me, because they're every bit as much a sinner as I am, but I consciously choose to believe that, for example, my friend SH wasn't leaving me out of the pregnancy talk to be spiteful and mean, but that she simply respects my stated intentions of not having babies for 2-3 years. If somehow I'm wrong and she really does have it out to erase me from our college foursome then she would need to do something that actually merits a change of mind on my part, like telling me that she hates me and I'm not her friend. Beyond that, which I am so certain will never happen that I can say the word never, I chalk it up to being honest about my struggles but not as something anyone else did wrong.
That probably is as clear as a bucket of hot fudge, because I went on so long and chased down every remotely related tangent, but I hope that helps explain the actual process I'm in. I know my emotions need to be surrendered to Christ more and more the longer I know Him, but I also know that we all have those struggles and my being honest about them is what spurs me on to rely more heavily on Jesus to change me, and the beauty of a good and loving God is that He uses my depravity and subsequent repentance to encourage others in His pursuit of them.
One last thing: I really am sunburned. Here's a picture to prove it. I put sunscreen on my face because I have face moisturizer that is 45 SPF... I didn't, however, consider the idea that we might eat outside in the sun so I didn't think about my scalp (where my part is) and my chest... my shirt wasn't even low cut, but the sun hit at an angle from slightly east of the middle of the sky, and I was facing pretty much due north, so my right side of my chest is just fried (left side in the pic below). This is even after like 4 applications of aloe vera AND I took it yesterday like 30 hours after the actual sun exposure. Stupid sun.
By the way, this is with zero alteration of color. It's really that red... and I'm really that white.You can even see how the reddest part is sort of bubbled up... that's how badly I burn. This was from like one hour of sun, probably a little less.
ONE HOUR!
Oy vey, no? I know that slow exposure would build up a resistance but I just don't like the sun that much so I stay out of it, and usually if I know I'll be in it I just slather on tons of sunscreen and cover up as much as is tolerable (being fat helps with that one, too, because showing off my chub isn't really a good time for me) and try to stay in the shade when I can.
Anyway. I'm done now.
[Mighty To Save, Hillsong United]
UPDATE: I edited... well, mostly just added content to... this post here in the wee hours of the morning (2:16 am... blame it on those inspirational Olympics :) Nastia Liukin made me cry. But if you read this yesterday I suggest a re-read!
What an emotional day.
First, I went to lunch with a good friend who was really supportive to me in our old church. Unfortunately she was the best friend of some relatives who have since cut Jason and I out of their lives (as in, told us we were dead to them because we left "their" church). We thought that it was just an issue with us, but I learned that basically anyone who doesn't agree with their pastor is cut out of their lives, this friend included. The good thing is that I can have a relationship with her again; I didn't have contact because I didn't want the relatives to think I was trying to hurt them by being friends with their crowd.
Things were way worse at our old church than we ever knew, and we're just grateful that we were discerning enough and given wisdom through Jesus to get out when we did. Said pastor (the same one who basically congratulated us on having sex before marriage, even though we were seeking help from him as our spiritual leader to stop doing so) is caught up in a horrible power trip and has done just about everything a person who loves Jesus shouldn't; the worst part is that the elders of the church refuse to fire him and he has chosen our relatives as his right hand people, and they're so heady with the power and status that they don't even realize their lives are based on a false Jesus.
Their children, whom Jason and I miss so much, are paying the price and it's a disastrous situation.
Their children, whom Jason and I miss so much, are paying the price and it's a disastrous situation.
My heart is quite literally sick, and my husband is now considering a letter to the family writ large that basically says the F family, despite their claims to the contrary, isn't living for Jesus and as Christians we apologize for the way His name is being desecrated by them. Trust me, this is heavy heavy stuff and all it does is distract from Jesus and the fact that He is good, holy, pure, and desires relationship with people... it makes me angry that people who desperately need Him are being led further away from Him by "Christians" who cause nothing but problems and then slap His name on it!
The good news is, despite all of this emotional stuff, I didn't eat emotionally. We ate at an amazing seafood place on the (Puget) Sound in Ballard (my favorite Seattle neighborhood) called Ray's Cafe. I'm actually proud to report that I did allow myself a treat- a small cup of (AMAZING) clam chowder and two bread rolls. But then instead of the salmon burger and battered fries, which I really wanted, I had a seafood salad with smoked scallops, smoked salmon, and fresh shrimp. It was really small (healthy) portions of the seafood, and none of it was cooked in butter, so it was fabulously healthy and so delicious :) I ate slowly and savored the food and felt that wonderful contentedness afterward- where you're satiated, no longer hungry, but not overly full. It was lovely :) The best part of the meal, other than the company, was the view--
I was sitting basically where the guy in the blue (gray?) shirt is-- isn't that view AMAZING? How I love and adore Seattle :)
Moving on... more emotional stuffs...
The next big issue... the dreaded baby-wanting syndrome. I have many friends with babies, and each time I have found out someone is pregnant I have been so happy for them, overjoyed for them, and not the least bit envious. Then, without warning, things started to shift.
The first tiny ping hit when some friends found out they're having twins. I have ALWAYS wanted twins, and the chances are almost zilch because there is like one set a few generations back on Jas' side and I'm not sure of any on my side. I know that if Jesus wants me to have twins then I will, but when A found out she was having them I was thrilled for her but also felt that ping of sadness that I may never have them. Understand this- I am happy for her. I don't want her to not have them, by any means- I just wish I could have the same thing. It's still coveting even if it's not with malintent toward her.
(Apparently Google thinks malintent isn't a word. Google needs to catch up with urbania... ok, so I made that one up. Still... malicious + intentions = malintent. HELLO.)
Then, another friend just found out last weekend that she is pregnant. There were four of us who were super close in college, and when the first one (you know I love you, Rachface) was preggers there was only happiness. I even knew that SF would start "trying" probably this summer, and was only happy for her. But then when SH said she was pregnant, out of nowhere I felt this overwhelming sadness-- notice the jump from tiny ping to overwhelming here. Not sadness for her- I am sure she will be a wonderful mother and her baby will be raised to love Jesus and I'm truly happy for her- but I feel an emptiness for not being a mother yet.
On the one hand, my head knows we're completely not ready. Financially we have loads of student loan debt, a really junky car (I would not want to cart around a baby in the Ghettro-- no way, no thank you.), currently no maternity insurance, and really no finances to spend on all of the stuff a baby needs (even with the vast resource for hand-me-downs that is Mars Hill Church we'd still have lots to buy). Maturity wise we're still babies in marriage, and have always agreed that we wanted to wait at least one year, upwards of three or four, before trying to get pregnant; we don't fight nearly as much as the first two months, but we still want our marriage to be rock solid and firmly footed on Jesus, with a lot of growth in how to effectively communicate, before bringing a baby into the equation. Spiritually we're going through so much and just growing and really need to let Jesus root out more sin before we're ready.
And... most concerning, really... physically I am simply too fat. Even if I got pregnant the chances of miscarriage are astronomically higher for my size, plus my mom had one (that shoots up your chances) and genetically I have much higher estrogen levels than normal (plus, body fat produces estrogen and I have about 2oo pounds of it, so... yeah.) and estrogen surges lead to infertility and higher miscarriage rates. I would be so upset with myself if my baby had to die because I can't stop eating like a pig. That's just wrong.
My head knows all of this... but my heart, oh my heart. It longs to feel that wonder of knowing a little human is growing inside of me, to know that it's a product of all of the love my husband and I share. The desire to see a little person who is the combination of the two of us, to hold him and pour all of that love for each other and for Jesus into our baby, is palpable. Impassioned curiosity longs to see a child grow up, discovering daily which physical and character traits will take after Jas and I (hopefully our best ones!) and which ones will clearly be from Jesus because they're totally not related to us. I yearn for that intimacy with my child, in the quiet, the connectedness of mother to offspring with all of the love that I didn't even know I could have for another person springing forth for her. I ache to take all that I am learning about raising a child to love Jesus, to shepherd his heart, to live out a life of love for Jesus that she can emulate.
It's so strong... maybe it's just that I started my period yesterday and it's a reminder that I'm not pregnant and the hormones are socking it to me. I don't know. I know that I have to continually give it to Jesus and ask Him for peace for His timing. The scary thing is that Jason and I did have sex before marriage because we were prideful and religious and thought we had it together spiritually. We started off by completely crossing the line on the phone, and then in person, and we thought we were ok because we never "went all the way", as if that's all God really cares about (in case you missed the memo, it's not. He wants purity.). But, oh how I wanted to finally experience sex. And every time things got hot and heavy physically I pushed the boundaries, sinfully enticing Jas to go farther and farther. After so many times of pulling back he sinfully followed me and let me make the calls, instead of putting on the brakes and leading us to Jesus, and together we walked (sexed?) right into much deeper sin. I say this because I remember hoping hoping hoping when we were getting physical that he'd give in and go all the way.
It's scary because I have found myself a few times, now, when we're about to have sex (the Biblical way- within the bounds of a marriage relationship between a man and a woman seeking to love Jesus) hoping he'll forget the condom (our preferred method of birth control) or get too impassioned to care and I'll stay silent, and I always feel a little pouty when he pauses to reach over for that despicable latex, the Trojan symbol mocking me and reminding me that I don't get to be pregnant. I know that I'll get pregnant in Jesus' timing, condoms or no, but that for now we're to be responsible and use the preventative measures. Still... my head and my heart can't seem to get on the same page.
Stupid stuff that normally wouldn't matter gets to me. For example, I said I have a group of four friends from college, all of us super close to one another. Relationships have shifted and settled and for a long time (as in years, now) I've had such peace about just letting them shift and settle as they may. I haven't envied others being closer to one another than to me, and I haven't felt threatened if I sensed exclusion (which was TOTALLY my problem in college... one instance, in particular, all but shattered my chance to be friends with any of them... to be fair, I was excluded and it wasn't right but my reaction was equally, if not more, wrong) in seriously like three, maybe even four or five... I've lost count, years.
So then, while checking in on Facebook, I noticed that one friend made what probably seemed like an innocent comment- the newly pregnant one told the one with a baby that they just needed to get friend #3 (the one who was going to start trying to get pregnant this summer) on board so they all could be pregnant together. Now, maybe she intentionally didn't mention me because she knows I am not looking to get pregnant for a few years and she knows that friend #3 is. That's almost certainly why, in fact. Yet my pathetic heart immediately felt like a rusty, broken sword was being plunged in and out, in and out. My head knew it wasn't meant to be personal or hurt me, but my heart... my heart. My heart told me I was being excluded and left out because they all love each other more than they love me and I'm simply not valuable enough to include mention in the "let's all be pregnant together" ideal. As if they consider themselves a close group of three friends, and I am sort of the leftovers, the one they don't have the heart to tell they don't think of as one of them.
I know how pathetic and emotional and lame I must sound. I wish I could be perfectly well-adjusted and cool. Sometimes I hate that I am this way, that I am such a mess. I start to wonder if maybe everyone else is just rock solid and together and they all want nothing to do with me because I'm too sticky and messy and they'd rather love people who are clean and "safe".
There was a horrible undercurrent of thought in my college church that said that many people aren't safe because they're needy and you should basically cut them out of your life. I have thought about this a lot. I think it's true, to an extent. My biological father sexually abused me, was and is unrepentant some 20 years later (my brother point blank asked him about a year ago why he sexually abused us, and he looked my brother in the eye and said he never did, that our mom just created lies... my first memories of existence, of him molesting and raping me, are to quite the contrary), and though I forgive him I will not ever pursue relationship with him unless he repents.
That, I think, is the litmus test for a safe person- if a person is confronted about their sin yet remains unrepentant with no qualms about the harm they're causing (like, for example, the relatives mentioned at the beginning of the post) then you have to forgive them (if you're in Jesus) and there comes a point where you have to draw a line in the sand, set boundaries, and sometimes even cut off all ties. If they repent then you can have reconciliation, but without repentance you simply cannot risk your (or your family's) relationship with Jesus for a human in unrepentant sin. You just can't.
I remember feeling like I was always that unsafe person- I still plan to eventually blog about it, but there were thoughts about who and how I was that were untrue, and I was considered a danger to a certain subset of the church, sadly the same subset I felt God leading me to serve and minister to. I felt dirty and thought that maybe all of the horrible things assumed about me were true, hiding deep in me, and that they'd eventually come out. If your pastor thinks you are a dangerously unsafe person, at least in my case, you start to believe they have insight into who you really are that even you don't have about yourself. So I must be "unsafe", a danger, needing to be constantly reigned in and untrusted. In retrospect, my definition of unsafe wasn't that I was unrepentant, because I believe Jesus' greatest gift to me when He formed me in my mother's womb is that when I am confronted I am always quick to own up to my sin and repent. My heart is very soft. That said, back then I thought unsafe was more akin to high-maintenance, messy, and prone to fail to live up to the standards being set for me by what I now can realize was a legalistic church lacking in grace and love.
I always felt like, in my relationships, I was messy and no one wanted to risk being close to me so they all preferred each other. Really, I think this was a defense mechanism to keep people at a distance so I didn't have to truly trust them. I was constantly caught between thinking I was awesome, expecting everyone to think me amazing as well, on one end of the pendulum to thinking everyone hated me and tolerated me just to be nice on the other end.
I know now I can stand on the truth that I am a sinner- of which no one is aware more than myself, second only to the Holy Trinity- but that I am generally repentant and my deepest desire is to know and love Jesus. Yes, I am messy. I suspect that everyone is as messy and just hides it better, and if the options are between being as screwed up as I am or as fake as most others then I'm quite happy being the openly messed up person I happen to be.
I know most of my emotions tonight are temporary, and in a week (or an hour) I'll kick myself for being so honest here in this post, because my desired facade of being so "together" is once again completely betrayed, but I'm really ok with that.
I think most Christians fall into one of two categories. First are the Paul's- the impassioned people who meet Jesus, immediately change, and seem to only have "Holy" problems like being too boldly passionate for Jesus. How I have longed to be a Paul, so strong, so solid, so easily emulatable (so I made that word up, but you get it).
Then, there are the Peter's. Ah, Peter. He impetuously made promises to cleave to Christ that without the Holy Spirit he couldn't keep and then fearfully denied Christ to a teenage girl. What a real "rock", right? (How sad that the papacy gets it so wrong- I honestly believe that Jesus was being sarcastic when He called Peter the Rock, joking with him, not saying build my entire church on this one person...) Even once he had the Holy Spirit we find Peter being rebuked as a hypocrite by Paul, of all people- Peter an apostle who walked and talked with Jesus and Paul the self-proclaimed least of all the apostles for being chosen after the ascension- still messing up by hanging out with the sinfully led Judaizers (Galatians 2).
The point is, both Paul and Peter loved Jesus, were led by Jesus, and lived for Jesus. Both were sinners. Paul is just so solid- clean, safe. Peter was often shaky (again, not so much the rock!)- messy, risky. I've always wished I was a Paul. My dear friend in college, Sharon, is the epitome of a Paul. She has her issues but she's just so solid and clean and easy to love. I'm her polar opposite. I'm messy and hard to love, incessantly grappling openly with sin that seems to prove that I'll always be a mess.
But really... I think that's ok. Paul had a powerful ministry, and he's the one with half the new testament under his pen. He was faithful with what Jesus gave him. But so was Peter, and I am confident that people could relate to Peter who maybe didn't get Paul, and vice versa. Be it less glamorous, my place in this world is not to be a Paul, but rather to embrace Jesus and reach those who relate to Peter. I simply am not and will never be a Paul.
I love the Paul's out there. I do. And I know Jesus loves the each type as they are for who they are because they are in Him. Kudos to the Paul's.
But this one... well, this one's for the Peter's. I get you, and I'm quite certain you get me.
[It Ends Tonight, The All-American Rejects]
Ok, bonus post. There's a grand entry about tacosagna below that I posted a few hours ago, but there are a lot of thoughts crushing me under their weight, so I'm going to spill it out and hope there's some semblance of a post that resonates with others.
I've been reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. So far I really like it... I can deeply identify with him on this journey he's been through called life, and how he's related to God and tried to figure out this crazy universe. One part that really resonated with me was a section where he wrote about realizing how incredibly selfish he was, and how everything he thought, said, and did was always directly connected to somehow benefiting him.
Ouch. That is me. I've been stung in recent weeks with a growing realization:
I am a jerk.
Seriously, I'm a jerk. I am incredibly mean. My husband will even look at me sometimes, as if there's this strange alien woman with medusa hair sitting next to him. I just say horrible things about people- and even worse, I say a frighteningly small fraction of how much I think about other people.
Let's talk irony here- I'm likely the fattest person that most who know me have actually met face to face. Come on- 350 pounds is HUGE. And yet today, while seeing what people from my past are on Facebook, I found myself thinking horrific thoughts about others. Here are some:
"Wow, so her Facebook profile pic is a scanned pic from high school? She graduated 10 years ago. Hello, loser.""Hahaha! She got really fat!""Um... if that's what someone's face looks like they really should not make their profile pic a close up. Eek.""Uh, wow... that is not a cute baby. I'm not sure I'd post pics on here if my baby looked like that. She does look like her mother, though...""They're still married? Dang. Good thing I didn't have money riding on that one."
And on and on. I'm ashamed to put them on here, because now you can see how truly ugly I can be. It's kind of humiliating. I can say that I asked Father God to help me to stop being such a judgmental jerk and He answered my prayer. But it got me to thinking... I'm not always that jerkish. What set me off to be so repugnant? The heart is the wellspring of life, and there was a reason that everything spewing from mine was vile and repulsive.
It was only after an amazing conversation with my incredible husband that it caught up to me and stared me down, like a high schooler who just smoked a doobie eyeing a bag of Cheetos-- something happened last night that has me reeling with insecurity and my way of responding is to beat down others, mentally, in some effort to feel ok with my own life.
How [swallow the bile creeping up my esophagus] unbelievably high school.
The incident last night isn't one I am ready to talk about yet. It involves issues from my church from college, and I just can't write about that until I know I can write something I won't ever regret or want to erase. Not easy when it regards a situation I praise God for getting me out of yet people I love and respect are still either in or connected to the mess. It's just too sticky, and I'm not yet willing to risk relationships by saying things that so easily separate friends. So, for now, I will leave it at that.
I can say that it really annoys me that high school still has the ability to eat at me from time to time. High school was rough- I was always too fat, too poor, too smart, too loud, too desperate for love, and, eventually, too into Jesus to be one of the cool kids. I, of course, could never settle for having amazing friends who weren't the popular crowd. I had faux relationships with the cool kids yet without blinking I would gossip and betray my real friends, all in hopes that I'd finally get "in". As a result, I got to hang out with the cool kids but I was never really one of them.
In retrospect, I truly am grateful. I'm glad I was fat, because were I not I likely would have dated the wrong guys and given away my body like it was a piece of gum- you lie and say you don't have any so you can't possibly share if the person doesn't have the social capital for it to matter, but if it's someone with enough value on the popularity status stock market then you always share whenever they ask. I mean, let's be honest- if their stock is high enough and forecasts suggest it will continue to grow, then you intentionally bust out your big ol' pack of gum in their presence, intending to share it long before they ever ask for some. I don't doubt that my pack of gum would have emptied quickly in my efforts for acceptance. Instead, I was fat, the equivalent of offering someone a lutefisk and lindberger cheese sandwich when they ask if you have any minty-flavored gum... no worries about emptying the pack on that one.
I'm glad I was poor, because I had to work and earn everything I had, and I never took anything for granted. I know what it's like to pay for something with food stamps as a teen picking up the bare essentials at the store for my parents while the middle-class popular girl smirks and mocks with her eyes- and then with her mouth back at school. It wasn't easy, but it taught me that material goods don't make a good person, and I learned humility in abundance. It was what spurred me on from a young age to get good grades and go to a good college. I have never regretted that for a moment-- moving away from home and going to college got me to where I am today. Plus, when I was teaching with TFA in NC my kids knew I wasn't just another white girl who had life spoon fed to her from a silver platter-- I worked hard and earned the life I was living. As a result I was able to reach them in a way that many others couldn't.
Speaking of, I'm glad I was too smart. I've been blessed with a capacity to learn and absorb information in a way that many struggling kids would do almost anything for. I don't have to be ashamed of being smart. I wish I never helped other people cheat (again, that social capital system bit me right on the arse) and that I didn't at times get overly puffed up with pride at getting the best grade the majority of the time. However, I don't regret doing well in school or being the best at something. I like having educated conversations with people about issues more important than what a whacked out person Britney seems to be. I like having conversations that, to me, actually matter.
I'm glad that I was too loud. Yeah, I laughed a lot. Yeah, my laugh is loud. And yeah, I was hounded mercilessly for it- damn you, Joey Sisson and Kevin Stabenfeldt- but I'm a generally happy and bubbly person with a huge heart. I wouldn't trade my optimistic disposition for petty pessimism any day of the week. Sure, in high school I laughed louder than I needed to at times, but I didn't have much going for me and I sought attention in the desperate hope that someone- anyone- would see me for who I was and simply love me for that.
It's likely the toughest one, but I'm glad I was desperate for love. My home life was rough, and I kept looking for someone to finally allow me to discover what it felt like to be loved- truly loved. It was good for me to yearn for love, because it's what sent me straight into the waiting arms of Perfect Love- God the Father, His slain Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit who allowed this love to be manifest to me as a sinner.
It led to much mockery, but I am completely grateful for being too into Jesus-- anyone who actually knows Him understands that there is no such thing. From time to time I miss that girl, the innocent new Christian telling her classmates that Jesus was changing her and could change them, too. I remember once, sitting on the baseball bleachers and talking to a friend who had gone down a path of drinking and drugs and sneaking out and lying to his parents, asking him why he did those things, because I knew his parents, how strict they were-- wasn't he worried they'd catch him? . I'll never forget his reply, as it's haunted me for years and I've prayed for him though I haven't seen him since the day we graduated. "Sometimes," he almost whispered, his eyes unfocused and staring into a torture I couldn't see, "I wish they would."
What spoke to me was all that he didn't say. He was arguably the most popular and sought after guy in our entire class (ok, of 36... but small towns can be more harsh than huge schools!) and here he was, telling me without telling me, that he was miserable and the "cool kid" life looked a lot better from the outside than it ever actually was when you were living it. It would seem easy enough that he could just stop, but... anyone who ever went to public high school, particularly in a tiny town where no one is anonymous, knows that he really couldn't.
As a Senior, I quit trying to be popular. I split my time between inviting the cool kids to youth group and hanging out with the kids from youth group, mostly Freshmen and Sophomores, and not even cool kids in their own grades to boot. And I was perfectly ok with it- we had Jesus in common (or, at least, at the time so it seemed) and there wasn't pressure to measure up to some standard. We just were. I stepped into leadership positions, found my niche for teaching, and grew comfortable in my own skin, despite how fat and poor and smart and loud and desperately in love with Jesus that skin happened to be.
I graduated, went to college, and never looked back. Today I still face my haunts- weight issues usually leading the pack- but this is me. I still wouldn't trade lives with anyone (though I wouldn't whine if I got to look and sing like Carrie Underwood... but I wouldn't be country. Ew.) and I keep growing.
I'm not pretending to be totally well adjusted and positively perfect. Every now and then something from high school or related to it will bug me. A few years ago I came across a (different) popular guy from my high school class on MySpace (ick, I know... oh, Facebook, how loyal I am to thee), and he accepted. He was new and had six friends in the days of a mandatory Top 8. Translation: my face showed up on his friends list and he didn't have enough friends to hide the fact that we were MySpace pals. He deleted me a few days later and never replied to my message asking if there was a mistake. It burned- I had grown so much, come so far, there I was working with impoverished students and seeing lives change on a daily basis-- making the world a better place, dammit!-- and I felt completely hurtled back into reliving the emotions I felt as a rejected 15 year old who had to wear his plain white (read: unable to be traced back to him) practice football jersey to school on Fridays while the hot girl in my class wore the one screaming his name and number in huge white iron-ons. Even though I asked first and he said yes to me, as if it were no big deal and he didn't mind people knowing he actually talked to me.
Then, there are the times I want to get thin and fit and have my husband get fabulously wealthy with a gaggle of gorgeous offspring so that I can go back to a reunion and be like, "Oh, I'm so sorry that you got fat and your kids are bratty ADD vacuums sucking the youth right out of you... I'm sure living in Republic totally makes up for it though," all the while thinking, "Suck it, bit**es." Ok, not that dramatic, but you get it. I just want to prove that I won't always be the fat poor girl who never had a boyfriend.
Just typing this out has been somewhat therapeutic. Sure, my readers are aghast in horror, because none of you are ever like that, but sorting out my insecurities ala high school actually reminds me that I'm unbelievably happy and blessed exactly where I am. My relationship with the Trinitarian God is growing and his is more real and tangible than ever before, I'm married to a man that I daily praise Jesus for, because I still am in awe that he's my husband, I have amazing friends, go to the most incredible church in the world, and I'm constantly growing and changing and leaving behind the childish things and embracing the woman I continually become.
Yes, sometimes I get insecure and am a jerk. But when I rely on Jesus I get a little less jerky every day because I'm reminded that I'm securely in the arms of Jesus, and who I am is a beloved daughter of the King and Creator of everything that exists. Not too shabby. There is no joy in realizing that people from high school are miserable losers- be they bit**es still or no, they are in desperate need of a relationship with Jesus and I'm a vile sinner regardless. My time is far better spent praying for them and living out a life of surrender to Jesus so that they might know Him and continue the cycle of making Him known.
Alas, in closing, a letter to my high school self.
Dear Tami,
For starters, girl, I love you. You are wonderful just as you are. Really- you've got some balls, sister. Who does a scholarly report on Jesus and His impact on the world for her senior project and is actually taken somewhat seriously by people who have more faith in beer? Nicely done. And those speeches in your class with the kids too popular for you about abortion while they talk about fashion? Thass how we roll? Aight. Niiiiice. (People talk like that now. Ok... white people don't... shouldn't... but you get my drift.) Seriously, though, you're not as insecure as you think.
In other news, keep following Jesus. Quit worrying so much about boys. You end up marrying an amazing man who treasures you and cares for you and shows you love you've never even imagined. And no, it's not Tim, nor the guy you'll waste time pining for in college- so why don't you worry less about being an awful person for having crushes-- because no other girl in the history of the world has ever done that and been a devoted follower of Jesus-- and focus on actually getting to know Jesus by praying and reading the Bible. He's not nearly as concerned with your crushes as you think. You're missing out on a lot of unconditional love because you keep stifling it with the condition that it be from a boy-- trust me, baby, wait for a MAN. Love Jesus alone until then. You won't regret it.
As for all of those people at school who torture you for not being like them and then beat you down when you try- just let it go. Be who you are. As you mature you'll realize that transformation into a more solid follower of Jesus kicks the ass of conforming to the patterns of this world and those people you keep trying to impress basically exit your life the day you graduate high school. No, really-- you get an entirely awesome and different life when you move out of Republic! So Hallmark movie, but so true. Oh, and yeah- we say "ass" now. We really like that word. We're pretty sure you can love Jesus and say ass, but if the Holy Spirit vetoes that one you'll get another letter, for clarity.
Finally, my beloved, we are still fat. As in really fat. It's kind of ruining our life. So could you please start actually thinking about what you're eating? Quit sneaking so much food when you work shifts at Eich's. It's not Christlike, and you're stealing (translation: SINNING), anyway. And when you get to college- model your food choices after the normal sized girls on your hall and not the O-Line for the football team, ya think? And exercise at the fitness center because we really hate to work out and believe me, never again will such a sweet gym exist free of charge and in such killer proximity. I'm just saying- when you get on your exercise kick during Jan term of our Junior year at Whitworth (did I forget? We go there. So quit trying to impress people with talk of east-coast-ivory-bs. We spend time on the East coast and all we do is miss the PNW.) don't stop! That would really solve a lot of our problems. You're a prisoner in your own body, sweet girl, and it completely sucks. Changing it is a lot harder than you might think, so maybe we could just work on it when were young and 130 pounds lighter.
All in all, life is good, Tami. Sometimes I miss you, but you'll never regret growing into me. Jesus remains faithful. Oh, but do us both a favor- look up some sermons by a guy named Mark Driscoll. They'll do us lots of good if we get on board now.
Love,
Tami
PS You will regret buying a horrible yellow vest and oversized cerulean blue shirt at Costco. You look like a fat circus clown. Buy some jeans or something, no? But enjoy shopping at the GAP- if you don't get real about the weight thing then you'll never be able to shop there again. Bummer, I know. That's what I'm talking about.
PPS We end up living in Seattle! Don't get too depressed when you live in Spokane. There's a light at the end of that tunnel, girl!
PPPS We still talk WAAAY too much. I'd tell you to work on it, but it would be pointless.
;)
Author
- Tami
- Seattle, WA, United States
- Post-college, mid-20's, early-marriage, pre-house, pre-kids.
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