Suprise

I was rumaging through my bookcase today, looking for something when my hand touched something unfamiliar. It was my old writing notebook. I fell back on the stairs and sat, reading. It was odd, like taking a journey back through my soul. It made me feel odd, reading those words. Where I was in my life then, how I viewed myself and the world. Disconcerting. I decided I needed to cronicle what I had written. Why? I don't know. I'm desperate to learn from my past mistakes, and reading my past will help me not stumble that way again. And as I'm learning from Esther, my past is tied to my destiny. No matter how bad my past was, it doesn't determine my future. My future is secure with God. Thank goodness.

So here's installment One. No laughing. This is scary. Like baring your soul. Ugh. I feel sick to my stomach, but I am forcing myself to do this. I need to own my past, and watch it intermingle with my future.

Expedition

I journeyed

into my mind.
Around thoughts and dreams
into my past, present and hopeful future.
Above my mind are thoughts I cannot attain
-things like infinity and being omnipresent.
Behind my mind are things I push away
-lost loves, lonely days, shattered dreams.
Through my thoughts are intertwined hope
love and peace, my stability
At the places where my mind rests are
Waterfalls, mountains and snow white beaches
-small vacations
Up soar my dreams and aspirations - swirling and
twirling like a child's baloon finally
set free.
To the years ahead when I imagine a home filled
with love, warmth and laughter
With thoughts in my mind - spinning, flowing,
gliding, floating, never ending
spiral of me.

This was for my literature class. The assignment was prepositional poetry. Each line had to begin with a preposition. It was written on April 12, 1994. I had met Allen the week before. We had to publish our work, and I did, dedicating it to Allen. My friend, Jan, who was in my class, commented, "If Allen inspired that, I'd marry him." 


I did.

Bed

I had the unfortunate experience of being sick last weekend, a fact you could only have missed had you spent time on a nearby planet sometime last week. I spent last Thursday night on my bathroom floor, writhing around in pain. Not fun. I finally felt like I could sleep a bit, and too sick and tired to get up and make my self a cozy little pallet on the floor like I do for Laney when she's sick, I scooted two bath mats together, wadded up a towel for a pillow and curled up under another towel. I fell out, and slept a couple of hours.

When I woke later, I felt like I could get in the bed. I anticipated that greatly, not only because of my time spent curled on the floor (the scene from "Hope Floats" kept popping in my head, although I didn't do anything to get into my predicament) but also because of what I learned a while ago.

Back when Zane wasn't sleeping and I would spend hours rocking him, I remember dreaming and longing for my bed. I mean in like a heartfelt way. Not just, "I'm tired and want to go to bed" but a serious longing, in a teary way. Sometimes when he would finally go to sleep, I would sleep in the recliner for a bit, so afraid of waking him back up. Then I would ease upstairs, and slide gently into bed.

So I knew, that yucky Thursday night, how I would feel when I finally got to bed. The thought that always seeped into my brain was that finally getting into bed felt like slipping into warm butter. Strange thought, but the softness and comfort of my bed was so strong, that I always, and did that night, groan out loud with sheer pleasure...hilarious.

But as I lay there that night, still feeling horrible, I thought those same thoughts that I always did after longing for my bed so much. The predictable thought that there are so so many people in this world who sleep in pure torture. Filth, danger-other things we can't even imagine. As I snuggled down in my not fancy, but perfect-for-me bed, cuddling up with my most cozy two year old, listening to his soft breathing and smelling his sweet head, twining my feet with my gently (for the moment) snoring husband who makes me feel so safe and secure, I thought, "You know, I am going to have to answer for this." I honestly believe that if we live our lives, oblivious to our creature comforts, taking them for granted, never doing our best to provide for those who are without, we are going to have to look our Savior in the eyes and explain that. Really.

I don't feel guilty, per say. Guilt isn't a good thing. I as a parent don't mind providing small luxuries for my kids, provided that they are appreciated. But it's the attitude in which those luxuries are handled that determines how the giver feels. I don't mean luxuries as in gold toilets or mink rugs. Running water, electricity, huge houses (which we all live in by standard of a lot of the world) food at our disposal, these are luxuries, and I really, really don't want to forget that. I want to stay appreciative. I want to wear God out, telling Him thank you. And I really, really want Him to use me to help provide for those who don't sleep in warm butter.

God is...

God is huge.

God is awesome. 

God is enormous.

God is wild. 

God is unpredictable.

God is powerful.

God is in control.

God can do huge things.

God can do awesome things.

God can do things of an enormous magnitute.

God can do wild things.

God can do unpredictable things.

God is powerful.

God is in control of everything that happens to me.

Why is it that I totally and completely believe the first set of things, but not the second set?

It's because of my lack of faith. Something I wrestle with constantly. And I'm getting tired of myself. 

So I'm asking for help. I'm asking Him to  help make me believe Him. There. It helps to see it written down.

Zane

This picture makes me smile, partly just because I had just giving birth to the largest baby I birthed (9.4 pounds) and because I absolutely love those precious moments just after a baby has come. Zane's birth was the hardest in some ways, and the easiest in others. But that's not what

this is about.

Zane. The name just evokes so many different emotions. I ain't gonna lie. I fought for this kid. The irony of how difficult his first two years were for me hit me over and over again. I fought for him, prayed for him. Begged & pleaded for him. Then I thought he was going to be the end of me. Really.

But that's not why I'm here. Quite the opposite, really.

I spent a lot of time processing my thoughts about Zane. Here. It was a hard time. I spent a lot of it with God. Honestly, asking Him what the heck was he trying to teach me.

Okay, enough of that.

The point is, things are good. SO good, now. I mean, I still have a 2 year old, but he's sleeping, and talking. Two things that I really like my kids to do.

He's just amazing. Hilarious. Smart. Cute as all get out. I really and truly see in him this amazing gift. I'm not sure how God is going to hone it for His glory, but I see it already. I am so thankful for him. All the pain, all the desperation, everything we went through is so worth it now. He is a very special gift, and I see now, just a little, why God took me down that path. It's because Zane was at the end of it. I'd do it all again, for him. We have a bond, he and I. I think he knows that he's special. I think all my kids know that... ;)

Only in the South

 

Sunday

 

Wednesday, 3 days later...

Tornadoes, floods, snow, 70's all in one week...OH MY!

Bane of my existence

 

These books mock me. They sit, on my bedside table, and they actually taunt me. I want to read until my eyeballs fall out. I need to be challenged. I want to learn. And I do make the most of my time, really. As I sit here blogging, I feel a twinge of guilt. I also took a look back at my blog the other day, and I rarely post anymore. I miss it, but I just have other things I want to do. There probably is a way to fit it all in, but I haven't figured that out yet.

So I thought I'd blog about my books, since I don't seem to be able to *read* them.

Snow!

Make a Smilebox slideshow