be-musings

Scott beat me to a post that has been in my head this past week. But I think he did a far greater, more detailed one than I was thinking of. That being said, I have a couple things I wanted to say anyways.

For a while now we have been talking together about this topic. Some of you might be surprised that we talk about it, not particularly from the viewpoint of criticizing others, but we become introspective. We get hurt by gossip and confrontation, sure. We "vent" with each other. But we keep coming back to the same point. We don't want to be bitter. We want to forgive, as much as we can figure out how. We want to be more like what we believe Jesus wants us to be.

Destroyed relationships are painful. Not only is there the oppositional feelings/opinions which caused the fallout, but there are also the emotions of rejection and perhaps betrayal. Those emotions stem way back to early childhood, if we look at our life. Rejection of being teased, not picked for events, called names, not wearing the "right" clothes, a friend choosing someone else over your own friendship. There are years of depth to draw on where rejection is involved. Years of experience and unresolved situations to raise bitterness and fuel unforgiveness. Plus, we're right. All of us think that anyways. That makes the other person wrong - or does it? Perhaps that makes all of us wrong; at least a little bit. Even if you're the person who remembers everything exactly as it happened (sure) and who was totally 100% in the right, then perhaps what you're guilty of is not being able to let that event go and love. Perhaps lack of forgiveness is your sin. And Pride.

Jill posted this piece of poetry:

As we were walking hand in hand,
I tripped and thought you let go.
Anger swarmed me from every direction.
How could you do this, where are you?
Fending on my own, it only gets worse.
Calling out for you, I'm so cold.
So cold that I couldn't feel your grasp.
Why do you put up with my frustration?
I don't deserve you.
You never let go.

I don't know what she imagined when she wrote it, because I haven't asked her. But for me it speaks of a situation with God, and honestly it can be seen as talking about 2 people. Imagine that it isn't a hand that you're reading about in the poem. Maybe you think someone let go of their integrity. Or maybe they told one of your secrets and betrayed you. Or maybe they violated trust by __________. I'm sure you've had enough experiences to have an idea you're thinking of right now.
But what do you do when you visualize it? How does it make you feel? Are you angry? Righteously indignant? Are you "right"? How is this all working for you? How chewed up inside are you ?
Let it go. You're the one its killing. And likewise God's life-spirit in you too.
Let it go.

A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to "Dad." With the Worst premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Dad:
It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you. I have been finding real passion with MaryBeth and she is so nice. But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercings, tattoos, tight clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it's not only the passion...Dad she's pregnant. MaryBeth said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.
MaryBeth has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so MaryBeth can get better. She deserves it.
Don't worry Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren.

Love,
Your Son John

PS. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the report card that's in my center desk drawer.
I love you.
Call me when it's safe to come home.

Our house isn't as clean or organized as we usually like it right now. Things are strewn on different counters and chairs. Laundry has been cleaned and sits waiting to be put in its place, ready to be used again.
It isn't always like this, but it cycles. Sometimes we clean everything off and sort things and put stuff away. I like the way it looks when we do that. But it has to be done constantly in order to look the same, and really that isn't possible. We need to live in the space, and we get busy or unmotivated so things clutter again.
This week I talked with a friend about life and its struggles. He has had some the last few years, and there are even more that I don't know about from many years ago. I think we understood each other a bit even though we haven't really had much personal conversation.
I'm as messed up as you are, though maybe in different ways. I have given up thinking that I am a sane person surrounded by a sea of crazies. Anyone who thinks they have it all figured out and together is lying, self-deceived or...there's that crazy word popping into my head again. I have realized something while working through my struggles and growing in this adulthood. It's like my house.
When I look back over my lifetime I recognize things that shaped who I was, how I saw myself, and how I viewed the world. That's not an epiphany, for you can probably say the same thing. We are all shaped by our experiences, our families, church (if we go), surroundings. Sometimes we see that we need to grow and change in some areas, either coluntarily or involuntarily. I have recognized some of it and have made movement toward that. And sometimes I have made great effort to overcome some of the triggers which recreate memories or ways of thinking and feeling. I have tried to do my part in healing and standing, and walking forward. Many times I'm okay now. I can keep my house clean. But sometimes the cycle pops up again, because of thoughts, conversations, observations. Sometimes I get cluttered with the things I had hoped to be done with, as the cycle reoccurs.
But as I talked with my friend about this recurrence of my reaction to things that might get me down or frustrated, instead of being totally discouraged that I haven't grown up enough I was encouraged. I was able to see that even though I cycle, each time the tie gets weaker and each time my negative feelings aren't as strong. I don't know that some of these experiences and feelings will be totally gone. But maybe they will continue to diminish in strength and the times without them will be longer in between. I can hope for that.

Scott, this is for you, so you know what I expect later in life. This will be us one day (you know it).

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 a.m., when an elderly gentleman in
his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he
was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an
hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch
and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his
wound.

On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the
needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation. I asked
him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a
hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to
eat breakfast with his wife.

I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a
while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's disease. As we talked, I
asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no
longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though
she doesn't know who you are?"
He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still
know who she is."

I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and
thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life."

True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of
all that is, has been, will be and will not be.

Matthew frequently talks about doing half pipes. If you grew up in the hippee days that probably meant something much different than what Matthew is talking about. He likes to talk about skateboarding and snowboarding.
We've just finished Matthew's room design. Yet to come is a bean bag chair for the corner of the room, but there are a couple of cool spots in the room. He wanted a skateboarding theme (no surprise) so we have a couple of posters on the wall/ceiling. We wallpapered with imitation brick paper, then got one of our friends to do the awesome graffiti. Didn't he do a great job?



I painted a couple of old skateboards that weren't usable. Those are flames, in case you can't tell. I found some on the internet, drew the outline onto mactac for shelves, razored it out, stuck it to the board after it was painted red, and painted the black over it. Wherever the mactac was, the stayed red. A bit more outlining for the smudges, some dollar store brackets spray painted black to match, and p-r-e-s-t-o.

By the way, "sick" is slang for "cool" (I'm a nerd - I didn't come up with that one by myself).

Here is a fabulously easy recipe for caramel corn. You need a paper bag and the microwave.

1/2 cup butter or margarine
1/4 cup corn syrup
1 cup brown sugar
9 to 13 cups popped corn
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. vanilla

Combine butter, corn syrup and brown sugar in a 2-quart bowl. Microwave on high until mixture comes to a full boil. Stir. Microwave on high for 3 minutes more.
Stir in baking soda and vanilla. Pour mixture over popped popcorn in brown paper bag. Shake.
Microwave on high for 30 seconds. Shake. Tear open bag and pour onto waxed paper.

Serves 6-8.

This has been a week of unusual moments. Some sad things are happening, with Amanda being hurt and Logan's mom expected to pass away soon. There have been moments of thinking Amanda would also very possibly be dead, and now there are some words of hope.
These kind of weeks make me feel a variety of things. Sad for sure. On Friday Matthew and I were talking about Amanda, which then led to talking about Len. Matthew said he misses Len and I told him we'll see Len again some day. Matthew asked how, since he is dead, and we talked about heaven. Not knowing for sure what form we will be in heaven, Matthew didn't understand how we will be able to know who Len is, especially since Matthew doesn't remember what he looks like. Tears were coming down my boy's face as we talked. I told him that I like it if he cries a bit about Len, because it says that he remembers him and loves him. I wanted to ask what he remembers, since Matthew was about 5 or 6 when he died, but I didn't really want to know. I was just happy that he cares. As I explained about people living on in the memories of those around them, Matthew thought I was slightly crazy. He doesn't yet understand how a person can live after they die, since they aren't physically here any more. One day he will understand.
At Bible Study we talked about Ecclesiastes. All is vanity. There is nothing new under the sun. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die. We talked about where God is in the face of tragedy. We talked about faith, doubt and fears. We were reminded that we look to Christ and the New Covenant for our Hope. It wasn't heresy; it was searching and being vulnerable.
Church was so great Saturday night. A couple people participated by reading selections on joy (and somewhat about it's evasiveness sometimes). I was very moved when Sam stood up and read the piece Scott provided her. I knew she would be reading, but didn't know the content. As she began, the words flamed in my heart. I looked at Scott and said "I wrote this". He didn't remember; he had merely come across the file on the laptop. As I listened I remembered where I was and when I wrote it. I knew why. As Sam read it I thought "Wow, this sounds so long". I didn't know if it would be meaningful to anyone else, but it was to me. When Sam was done I stood up and talked about the piece. It was written at a time in my life when I realized I had to decide whether I was going to continue in despair or choose joy. To me, joy was a being, not just an emotion. She was someone I had to commit to instead of just bring in and out of my life. It wasn't an easy choice, because to live in self-pity or despair seemed easier. But I knew that path was destructive and a slow death of the soul. It hasn't always been easy to choose, but it has gotten easier.
Saturday night we also had communion. It's been 2 years since I've been at a service with communion, and I've missed it. It was such a contemplative time for the people there. One person had never seen communion, and it was very meaningful for him. He spent many hours that night thinking about the words spoken and the prayers uttered, and praying. God is working in him and it's an exciting thing to watch.
Times like this I feel the vibrancy of Christ and thankfulness for Him. I don't have all the answers to life's tough times, but I see His work in small wonders along the way. And sometimes the wonders are pretty big.

Matthew found this addicting game on...you guessed it...Addicting Games. Try it and see if you can stop in less than 5 minutes. Then tell me what level you got to!

Since I'm recommending things, Tysey has loaned us her Portable Sounds CD by Toby Mac. matthew and I waited for Ben outside the high school the other day, had the tunes turned up and the sunroof open. It was music I wasn't embarrassed to play around the teens who walked by. I really like the CD.

Opinions now over. Well for today anyway.

Attention all readers. My mom is moving to Mission at the end of May and is looking for a place to rent. A basement suite is good, if it is in a quiet house. An apartment is also good, especially if it's 50+. Close proximity to my place would be nice, to make it easier for us to get together and for short driving distance to shopping. If you know of anything, email me or put a comment on the blog (all comments come to my email anyways).
Thanks!