...is that I was really looking forward to Christmas. I really thought one trip to the healing room would add possibility, not make my lungs burn, and unable to participate in any form of generative community. And Cooper used to be all mine, now he's just His.
This last month was going to be as well-lived as all my others, and suddenly I'm as below-average as any scoundrel worthy of the ill-will wished upon her. Not even revenge left in these bones, only apathy. All meant to be, I'd have to ultimately guess.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Morning revelation
Apparently, I have major gifts. Round-the-clock prayer warriors are on my trail, wonder what in the heck these gifts could possibly be. I'm a pretty fast typer, maybe that's it. I definitely don't have emotions of steel...a ridiculous set of first hiccups sent me wailing into the lonely night. Cooper's preparing his lungs for delivery, isn't that special?
Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup...he thundered in utero. I'm going crazy, that's the honest truth. Everyone around me is so eager for my "testimony", it's going to be a CREATIVE miracle we've agreed. A NEW heart is the possibility God will provide, as Cooper's His son, not mine.
I spent until yesterday convinced, because why not, really. Until the inevitable wake-up call supplied by my SIL, "you should bring a carseat to the hospital," she said, then regretted it. Must have been the crack in my social grace face that made my faith hesitate once again.
No, no...I always say right away. I just want to stay in the moment, don't want to control anything by planning ahead. God's will, remember? Uh oh, God said.
I hate to correct God's word choices, but it was UGH, I'd have preferred. Just a simple, "ugh, I totally get you girl." He didn't supply that, but didn't go so far as to say "stay in denial, maybe you'll wake up all on your own. Again"
Love it most when God leaves everything up to me, like a fun little search that puts pieces together, such glee. God's not my friend, I'm starting to see.
Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup...he thundered in utero. I'm going crazy, that's the honest truth. Everyone around me is so eager for my "testimony", it's going to be a CREATIVE miracle we've agreed. A NEW heart is the possibility God will provide, as Cooper's His son, not mine.
I spent until yesterday convinced, because why not, really. Until the inevitable wake-up call supplied by my SIL, "you should bring a carseat to the hospital," she said, then regretted it. Must have been the crack in my social grace face that made my faith hesitate once again.
No, no...I always say right away. I just want to stay in the moment, don't want to control anything by planning ahead. God's will, remember? Uh oh, God said.
I hate to correct God's word choices, but it was UGH, I'd have preferred. Just a simple, "ugh, I totally get you girl." He didn't supply that, but didn't go so far as to say "stay in denial, maybe you'll wake up all on your own. Again"
Love it most when God leaves everything up to me, like a fun little search that puts pieces together, such glee. God's not my friend, I'm starting to see.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Everyone enjoying their coffee?
Mine won't arrive for an hour or two. I can wait though, no hurry today at all...just random thoughts musing through my brain, and the freedom to report on it, or not. At will.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Duets
My husband and I are probably atypical in that we're not the sort to compile the commonly-acceptable "celebrities I'd allow to paint my nails, if given the chance" list. I, for one, eschew nail polish for the mere sake of it being oxygen-robbing. Nails are meant to breathe, period.
It's much like wearing foundation, blush, and lipstick as a mask, instead of as a subtle compliment. People come to depend on unnatural coloring at the expense of what blood flow intended. They don't work as hard to live as authentic flesh and blood, and once the cake and paste are removed...ghostly paleness.
I have no doubt in the world that Scarlett Johansson looks as beautiful with her make-up off, as she does with it on, that's not the question. And if Pete Yorn wears make-up at all, I'd be quite surprised. But it was ME who sat up every morning watching their video and thinking they were the perfectly matched voices all those sleepless nights urged them to be.
My husband bought the CD at Starbucks without even having seen it though. Does that mean he'd put Scarlett's ten nails, I mean twenty, before me?
It's much like wearing foundation, blush, and lipstick as a mask, instead of as a subtle compliment. People come to depend on unnatural coloring at the expense of what blood flow intended. They don't work as hard to live as authentic flesh and blood, and once the cake and paste are removed...ghostly paleness.
I have no doubt in the world that Scarlett Johansson looks as beautiful with her make-up off, as she does with it on, that's not the question. And if Pete Yorn wears make-up at all, I'd be quite surprised. But it was ME who sat up every morning watching their video and thinking they were the perfectly matched voices all those sleepless nights urged them to be.
My husband bought the CD at Starbucks without even having seen it though. Does that mean he'd put Scarlett's ten nails, I mean twenty, before me?
Monday, November 30, 2009
Perhaps it's revenge
Because men obviously don't hate their mothers, who love unconditionally. Imagine those deathbeds, when each male realizes the religion they boasted, missed opportunities for compassion in relating. Where listening to God's messengers, moved through pure heartstrings, never quite added up to enough.
Oh how their wives could have loved them. It was heroic men with rational eyes that we needed, not the default setting. God no, not the default setting.
That's all.
Oh how their wives could have loved them. It was heroic men with rational eyes that we needed, not the default setting. God no, not the default setting.
That's all.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Lightning round
All education, light and life convenient extras. As I rephilosophize my new life direction, able to inhale and exhale all the oxygen I encounter, you'd be surprised how swiftly change takes place. My house and its crevices are all the evidence I need.
For awhile there, I was just blaming elves for the accumulating dust, every standard I ever upheld magically replaced by tolerance of disorder and worse, filth. Not feng shui, nor the change of real seasons, could lure me back into sane.
Losing my magical powers was the last straw, no loving God just "allows" in the presence of truth. Or so she says...when really, she just wants to brag about how she's cleaning her house. Totally going to get the Swiffers out on Monday, for sure.
Presently, it's just zip speed pace at folding laundry, conquering corners I hadn't wanted to admit existed, and the basement. Gonna whip my whole being back into shape, as reflected in my environment's not so subtle cues.
For awhile there, I was just blaming elves for the accumulating dust, every standard I ever upheld magically replaced by tolerance of disorder and worse, filth. Not feng shui, nor the change of real seasons, could lure me back into sane.
Losing my magical powers was the last straw, no loving God just "allows" in the presence of truth. Or so she says...when really, she just wants to brag about how she's cleaning her house. Totally going to get the Swiffers out on Monday, for sure.
Presently, it's just zip speed pace at folding laundry, conquering corners I hadn't wanted to admit existed, and the basement. Gonna whip my whole being back into shape, as reflected in my environment's not so subtle cues.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Speaking of Catholics
Jen's throwing a birthday party for Noella tonight, bring costumes she said. Afterwards she'll be cooking us all dinner, Jen's my best friend. I've mentioned her before, yes, I know I have. It's as funny as ironic, how my friendships work. All have perfectly respectable timing.
Take "breaking the news" to them all, which was inevitable eventually, no matter how long I put it off. Sure, I experienced it myself first, and then comfortably blogged about it, but it took me a good number of weeks before I could actually call my Dad. He hates when I'm hurting.
It went well though, spent our usual conversation believing in each other, seeing the sunny-side of life (totally where I got it), and deciding that as long as we all had each other, nothing was actually really all that bad. It never is when I'm talking to my Dad.
Within ONE DAY after that, I bump into three favorite friends in a row, due to perfectly unplanned, au natural (never forced) plain circumstance. First, surprisingly, was Cindy, not Jen. Cindy's about a decade ahead, a homeschooler too, and the only person who ever advocated for my point of view when the Evangelical homeschoolers decided I had no place in leadership in our group. Fuck you, I should've said.
But, I didn't. I surrendered my will, was grateful for what I had, basically, I was obedient. Better at it than any of THOSE Christian women, I might've said were I more arrogant (I'm actually not). Cindy got mad for me, and then I followed suit. We were MAD!!!
Soon after I put my kids into the school system, after realizing how pathetic bombastic women are at debating. Ha! Their bad. Then Trina stopped by my house, unexpectedly...some unfinished 4-H business we had. Shared the whole story, brought her to tears (of course) and was so glad to have finally gotten it all out, thanks to my Classical Homeschooling expert, master of all the materials friend. And, she's Canadian.
Lastly was Jen. I didn't want to have to tell my sympathetic Catholic friend. I'd cry, she'd cry, we'd keep crying and crying, it would never ever end. Without a single plan, just an instinct in a moment she stopped by. And I, soaking my troubles away in yet another unfair bath, I could barely consider even telling her. Boy did I sob when I cried.
Felt better after that, and then.
Take "breaking the news" to them all, which was inevitable eventually, no matter how long I put it off. Sure, I experienced it myself first, and then comfortably blogged about it, but it took me a good number of weeks before I could actually call my Dad. He hates when I'm hurting.
It went well though, spent our usual conversation believing in each other, seeing the sunny-side of life (totally where I got it), and deciding that as long as we all had each other, nothing was actually really all that bad. It never is when I'm talking to my Dad.
Within ONE DAY after that, I bump into three favorite friends in a row, due to perfectly unplanned, au natural (never forced) plain circumstance. First, surprisingly, was Cindy, not Jen. Cindy's about a decade ahead, a homeschooler too, and the only person who ever advocated for my point of view when the Evangelical homeschoolers decided I had no place in leadership in our group. Fuck you, I should've said.
But, I didn't. I surrendered my will, was grateful for what I had, basically, I was obedient. Better at it than any of THOSE Christian women, I might've said were I more arrogant (I'm actually not). Cindy got mad for me, and then I followed suit. We were MAD!!!
Soon after I put my kids into the school system, after realizing how pathetic bombastic women are at debating. Ha! Their bad. Then Trina stopped by my house, unexpectedly...some unfinished 4-H business we had. Shared the whole story, brought her to tears (of course) and was so glad to have finally gotten it all out, thanks to my Classical Homeschooling expert, master of all the materials friend. And, she's Canadian.
Lastly was Jen. I didn't want to have to tell my sympathetic Catholic friend. I'd cry, she'd cry, we'd keep crying and crying, it would never ever end. Without a single plan, just an instinct in a moment she stopped by. And I, soaking my troubles away in yet another unfair bath, I could barely consider even telling her. Boy did I sob when I cried.
Felt better after that, and then.
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