Finishing

One of the many somethings that kept me from blogging in 2010 was that I went back to college. Yes, that's correct. This north of forty (I will NOT say how much) single mother of seven, now grandma, went back to college. Some of the biggest regrets in my life revolve around not finishing things.

In high school, way back in the "enlightened" days of the late seventies/early eighties, I was a little too busy finding ways to avoid life to care much about school. I would take days off and head to the beach - such as they are in Northern California - to party, rather than go to classes.

Somehow, I didn't flunk out, but I did get out early, in my Junior year. Not on credits, I took and passed the California Proficiency Exam. Like a GED. There was even a quote in a local paper from me about the test. I think we were the first group, or something. My quote, in my extreme seventeen-year-oldness, was something like, "Well, if you're mature enough, you should be able to get on with life." Ha! Mature. Right. There's nothing so funny as looking back on your younger self and seeing how arrogant and really stupid you were.

Things I miss the most about the high school experience include "unimportant" things like Senior Prom and the Graduation ceremony. At the time, I was a self-proclaimed outcast, and had separated myself from the main herd. I almost convinced myself those things were stupid and boring and unnecessary. There were lots of reasons, and I understand much better now why that was. But, that's not what we're talking about today.

In the mid-nineties, living in Seattle with Kris and Kelsey, ages five and three, and a new(ish) Christian, I felt a call (an almost-irresistible urge followed up by unexplainable confirming acts) to go, of all places, to Colorado Springs to attend Nazarene Bible College. At the time, I was working in the best job of my life. I was the Registered Sales Assistant to a father/son team of high-producing stockbrokers. How the heck I ended up with that amazing job being an "almost" high school graduate with no formal degree is info for another day.

But, I felt this call, and I saw the path, and I went for it. This is not one of the "unfinished things" I regret. In fact, out of all the decisions I've made in my life, this remains one of the ones that feel the most certain. I was supposed to do this and go there.

Years pass, choices are made, and I end up in a ranch house north of Colorado Springs stuffed to the 20-foot cedar-paneled ceilings with kids. Kids of all ages, shapes, sizes, and abilities. Me, who was never going to be a mom. More ha!

But, I didn't finish Bible College. I had three years into a double-major: music and Biblical Studies. I didn't know what I was going to do with it, but I was where I was supposed to be. At the time. When I left, it was to work with the children, and that was another thing I am certain was the right move. But, I always said that if I were to ever get a degree... and strongly encouraged all my children to finish high school and go to college.

Watching my older two do just that has been a joy. And, from this vantage point, the wisdom of all those years of school is perfectly clear - and missing it, one of those regrets we seem to accumulate as we age.

So, here I am. Finishing. My classes are online, and I should have the credits to transfer to the University of Washington in the Fall of 2011. If they'll have me. Grades are good, I'm loving learning, and over-achieving (according to Kelsey, who got straight A's last semester, I try too hard). The goal is a BA in English.

I refuse to think about how silly this all is. When thoughts of what are you DOING?? seep into my brain like a toxic fog, I just turn up the music on my i-Pod. I will finish this. Whatever the outcome is, I will detach from it, and trust that the reasons will someday be evident. If nothing else, I will enjoy the ride. And I WILL finish this.

One of the comments I get a lot when people find out that I'm a single mom to high needs kids is, "I don't know how you do it". It's right up there with people saying how special I am and what a big heart, etc. etc.

Not to denigrate those of you who have actually said these things (I do appreciate compliments!), but believe me, I'm human. I'm NO saint.

I have days, like this very day, where I want to pull my hair out. When Kameron - for the fifty millionth time - bothers the dog (enough that the dog is about to bite the hell out of him), and is cackling with laughter over the increasing growls, and I am not near him (perhaps on the toilet, perhaps in the laundry room), and I am saying (over and over, louder and louder), "Kameron, leave Ricky alone. Kameron, leave Ricky alone. KAMERON, leave Ricky ALONE. KAMERONLEAVERICKYALONE".

And am ignored. Until I come storming out of where ever I was, get all up in his face which scares him more than Ricky's growling and snapping, and he says, "okay, mom."

And then we start it all over again in about five or ten minutes. However long it takes me to get started on some other chore in some other area of the house and for Ricky to leave my side and meander back to Kameron.

Kam thinks it's hilarious.

We do "time out", we do "three strikes", we do IAMABOUTTOKILLYOU, nothing ever, ever, ever works. And if I ignore the resulting clamor, I've found it increases. Kobi will start jumping on furniture, Klaryssia will start telling Kameron to leave Ricky alone (she, the Queen of animal pestering), and will tell Kobi to stop jumping on furniture (while she laughs along). . .

The very persistence and stubbornness that makes these "special" kids survive in spite of all odds, is the very persistence and stubbornness that makes them HUGE pains in my hiney (and by hiney, I'm assuming you know what I really mean).

So, next time you think I'm up for sainthood - think again. I lose my cool regularly.

That's the hardest part of being a single mom. No breaks. In fact, any of you who know of single moms (sorry, dads, can't speak for you, never been a dad), you would be doing her an IMMENSE favor if you would take their kids for a few hours every once and awhile. Throw them in the car with you and your kids for a run to DQ or the dollar menu @ Micky D's. Or just drop over and have coffee with her. Bring her a latte; boss her kids around for her. Help her get some of the stress out.

She will probably kiss your feet.

I know I would.

Love, peeps. Thanks for listening!

Okay, so this "bad economy" thing is beginning to irk me.

You hear about it everywhere - it's causing people on my favorite TV shows to lose their TV jobs, commit TV crimes, and act in very uncharacteristic (for their TV character) ways.

I've shared that I've needed to downsize. You know, selling a few things: my cherry red LG steam washer/dryer combo; my stainless steel french door Jennair refrigerator; my king-sized all solid wood four poster canopy bed . . .

But, this is just NOT okay.

I had to leave Therapist Lisa.

See, I am between health insurance plans, and the

one that "let me go" didn't cover her. So her (sorry TL) fairly hefty fee's been coming out of my ever-shrinking pocket. BTW, she is worth every single penny.

First, I tried cutting back. We went from weekly to every other week. It helped, but really I still couldn't afford her. Mostly I just wrote the checks and prayed (literally) that everything would still get paid.

Here's the crazy part: that didn't work so well. But (important "but), it did buy me some time, and I think that was a good thing. I've got a notebook full of her really good, insightful, tailor-made-for-me instructions, and if I'm smart enough to apply them, I think I'll be okay.

Don't get me wrong. I had a choice. I could have tried desperately to find other ways to make more money. At this point in my life, I am thankfully, still pretty employable. But (another important "but"), that completely flies in the face of all the advice she's given me. One of the reasons I slid so far down into the emotional/mental health quicksand was because of all the frantic activity and chaos I'd allowed in my life. Extra jobs on extra jobs. No way to find coverage for the kids (shocker - not too many folk are qualified and willing to watch my super-special little brood). No life for me. The payoff in income was never enough to offset the damage to my soul.

I'm pretty sure we have enough to keep the lights on and food on the table. The other things will either continue to wait or not. My experience is that some will, some won't. But God has always been faithful to us. We will be okay.

My sweet little mom and my dad lived through the real Depression. I've heard stories . . .

None of them included the great sacrifice of quitting counseling. Or, maybe having to eat out less and perhaps drop the Netflix subscription.

I am beyond grateful for my motley little family. We have a good thing going on: each other. I am SO proud of all my children, and I really know that our love for each other and God's love for us will safely see us through. However that pans out.

Tons of love to all of you. You don't know how much I appreciate you for listening to my musing (some would say rambling).

Talk to you soon.

The Stunner next to the Airstream
is my mommy, btw. From back in Her Day

But Today

Sometimes, I am Nazi Mom.
A shrew-like meanie who scares small children
and belongs in a fairy tale, tempting children into her oven using treats.

But Today, I will hug more and yell less.
I will listen to my children more, and avoid them less.
I will be their biggest fan.

Sometimes, I eat too much, sit too much, drink too much wine
and stay up too late watching TV.

But Today, I will be kind to myself. I will not snack.
I will move more, drink less, and put myself to bed
by 11:00.

Sometimes, my brain shifts into overdrive. It gets stuck
in un-winnable one-sided arguments and worthless what-ifs, with
thoughts swirling around like water in a toilet bowl that never finishes flushing.

But Today, I refuse to contribute to my own misery. I will remember
that I am the Captain of my own mind. I will not take anything personally or
make assumptions about anything. I will keep a quiet heart.

Sometimes, I feel overly responsible for other people's feelings. I try to anticipate
how my actions and choices will affect them, and I act
based on that, rather than simply live my life.

But Today, I will allow God to take care of the world.
If He needs me, He knows where I am. I will live in His freedom.
I will live my story. Mine.

Sometimes I go nuts thinking about all the things I want to do
and be and try. I get overwhelmed and end up frozen,
not doing anything at all.

But Today, I will be intentional about my life. I will think
about what my priorities are,
what I really love, what feeds my soul,
and purpose to take baby steps in at least two areas - today.

Sometimes, I feel oppressed and tormented. I feel weary and shell-shocked
and can't believe I have to take another step.

But Today, I will remember that we have an enemy who hates us
beyond all reason and wants to destroy our lives. Today, I will refuse
to give him influence over my heart.

Sometimes, I question God's motives. I wonder,
"If God is so good, why does this happen?" or, "If God REALLY loved me,
He'd (fill in the blank)."

But Today, I will trust Him. I will trust His goodness. I will trust His love for me,
His good intentions toward me, His plans. I will not behave like an infant in my faith, whining about what I can't have or be or do. I will be an adult, today.

Just for Today . . . I will believe.

As always, I love you guys, and thank you for reading.

Letting Go - Parte Due

I'm spending the day getting my fridge ready for the person who bought it from me on Craig's List. It's not just any fridge, mind you. It's a french door, stainless steel, 20 cubic foot, Jenn-Air refrigerator extraordinaire.


See what I mean?

We're talking electronic control panel with easy-to-read LEDs of the freezer and fridge temps, an open door alarm, low temp alarm, vacation setting (whatever that is) , inside door purified water, ice maker, easily adjustable shelves, and best of all, enough room for all of the food we eat, and it keeps it all at the temperature it should.

I've had it three years. It's the only big thing I have left from the last house I owned - the one I lost two years ago to foreclosure.

I had a GORGEOUS LG steam washer/dryer pair in Cherry Red at that house, too. Ladies, tell me these aren't sexy. . .


I swear, when I finally got those - after a few years of waiting and wanting - I plopped down in a chair in the laundry area just to watch the washer go. It has these beautiful purple and yellow and green lights around the knobs, and has a special LED readout, and is sooooo quiet. . .

These were the first things to go when I was trying to first save the house, then scrape enough money together to move to a rental. A couple drove down from Canada to pick them up. Like the fridge, my loss is someones gain. And I'm glad about that.

Maybe it seems like these are silly things to grieve over, and yes, I semi-realize that. But, you have to realize that I've been raising children for twenty-two years now (dang, that's like FOREVER), and in that time, I've done A LOT of laundry, and made do with some really nasty fridges. These appliances represented an easier load for me. And a funner one, too! In many ways, they made me feel more normal, more like a "real" person. More mainstream. And hey, loss is loss, right?

Actually, I thought I was over it, but finding the pictures to put in this post kind of stirred up those old feelings. Like running across old wedding pictures years after a divorce, or a love letter you neglected to burn after a bad break up.

Yes, people, I loved and adored my appliances. Don't make me tell you about selling my old saddle. The one I moved three times even though I haven't had a horse in about seven years.

BUT (and this is an important but), I'm finally coming around to being very grateful that I have these nice things to sell when I need to. The washer and dryer brought in enough extra money to make sure we could move to a new home when we were losing the one we had. The saddle and some camera lenses helped, too.

This fridge isn't bringing much money, but it's providing some respite from the squeeze left over from my steadily reducing income over these last eight months, and we have another one that was already here to use. Thank you, Landlady Tosha!

We are also moving again - downsizing, simplifying, cutting back on expenses even more. I've decided that my three kids at home need more of me than they currently get. And I don't mean time, necessarily, because I need time, too. By more of me, I mean more of my presence mentally, more thoughtful mommying. They deserve that. We've all been distracted by so much these last five or six years: Kameron's illness and surgeries, moving three (now four!) times, working different part time and full time jobs,starting college for Kelsey and Elesha, Kris and Kami's wedding, all the big kids moving out. . . while trying to maintain a cohesive, loving, family unit.

Wears me out just thinking about it, and we all lived through it!

So, the big plan is to move over the next two months, spending some real time going through all the stuff we've been carting around since we left Colorado, and downsizing. The less stuff I need to take care of, the better. Hopefully, some of it can go on Craig's List. I might even bite the bullet and have a garage sale. I hate garage sales.

That way, maybe I'll have the mental and emotional space to care for and about the things that really matter. Like my God, my family, myself, my church, and my friends.

Stay tuned.

I love.

I'm a Tricksy Girl

Here's a quick update on the TV fast. If you recall, I let it slip to Therapist Lisa that I tend to over-watch television. Kind of a turn it on and tune out thing? So, she challenged me to turn it off for SEVEN days. At the same time, in church, I kept hearing about us trying to find comfort from stuff (any stuff - TV, drugs, drink, food, friends, etc.) rather than face our pain and junk and take it to God. So, knowing that I have many many "comfort" things that help me not at all, I agreed to turn it off.

I actually did pretty well with the no TV thing. Only watched one lateish night, started with a DVR'd Law and Order - I do love that darned show - and then watched Marley and Me, which of course had me sobbing.

That was helpful. I need to cry more.

The thing I noticed immediately was my computer time increased. Not so much Facebook or Twitter, which surprised me, but def more time cruising and exploring: reading other people's blogs, looking up random stuff, checking out Italian learning programs and sites. I didn't work on my writing like I wanted to, although I had some more ideas on framing my story. 'Course, ideas don't do diddly if you don't act on them.

But, I also noticed that I have spent more time talking with God and reading His Word. So that's a huge positive. And, I did tackle a big personal project that I've been avoiding. It's not quite finished, but it's about two-thirds of the way done.

I'm really working on recognizing baby steps as positive progress, and not slapping myself around for not "accomplishing" anything because of some nebulous, fictional, grading scale I have that says unless I get it all done - preferably now - I've failed.

“With what shall I come before the Lord,

and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

- Micah 6:6-8 esv

Okay, I can work on those. Oops. I'm supposed to be "being" more and "doing" less.

See how my mind works? Now I'm stressing about being and doing. UGH!!! Where's that remote??

Love you guys, thanks always for reading...

Steppin' Out at Seward Park

Okay, so I've told you all about the walking program with my little Manager Kimi, right? One of the three out-of-the-house-with-another-person things I'm supposed to do? So, here is an update on that activity.

I mentioned that we are walking at Seward Park, it's a really beautiful place on the south end of Seattle. It's situated on a little penninsula jutting out into Lake Washington. For those of you who don't know, Lake Washington is an amazingly beautiful body of water that curves along the east side of the city of Seattle. It's huge - 22 miles long at one point, and 214 feet at it's deepest. When the sun is even remotely out, the lake is filled with boats, Seados, and brave swimmers along the shore.

The University of Washington butts up against part of the western shore, and their boat house is there, in the shadows of Husky Stadium and Hec Ed Pavillion. In the early morning hours, if you are nearby, you can see the crew racers out practicing. They look like big water skeeters. It seems like they barely touch the surface as they speed along.

Lake Washington and Lake Union (another beautiful body of water, the one with all the houseboats) are connected by the Montlake Cut which runs between Husky Stadium and the Montlake neighborhood, then meanders under the University Bridge. There are tons of waterfront businesses dotted along here, kayaking clubs, little restaurants that you can boat up to and tie up for a meal. Lake Union has GasWorks Park, a very popular - read thousands of people - place to view the fireworks at the Space Needle on July 4th.

These are some of the reasons I love my home. Walking with Manager Kimi at Seward Park is reminding me of these reasons. That's just one of the bonuses. She and I are up to two laps around the park, that's five miles - yay us!

We take it fairly easy, and talk a lot (mostly me, I'm afraid), but we've noticed our time getting better. We are also having fun. There are regulars: Rasta Runner for one. He's there every time we are. He's always wearing his hat and brightly-colored shorts that match. He is VERY thin and musclely. I imagine him running across deserts in Africa. . . he always says hello, every time he passes us. Funny, he is always running opposite of us. Seems like the regulars all go in a regular direction, too.

Manager Kimi has a here-to-fore secret calling: she is a Crow Whisperer.

Did you know such a thing exsisted? Me either. But she is one. I've seen her in action. See, she talks to the cawing crows, and they stop cawing. They seem to know that she has wisdom to impart...kinda creepy, if you ask me, but I still like her.




There are a lot of crows at Seward Park.




We've noticed that our fellow walkers/runners seem nicer on the weekdays. Everyone (really, everyone) says hello and smiles as they pass. Even the ones that are really huffing and puffing. It's awfully nice to have that degree of friendliness within the city.

There are sweet groups of older people, men, women, both together, that stop along the path to chat. They always smile and wave, too. Many many dog walkers - some with up to three - and dog runners. One guy had his dog tied around his waist. They both looked like they were ready for a marathon.

One of the oddest things is the "skirt runners". On any given day, we can be sure to see at least one woman (one day, it was three different women) wearing a skirt. I'm not talking sporty, tennis player-type skirt. I'm talking maxi-length, cotton or cotton-blend type skirt you might wear to church or something. Really a bit odd.

But for me, that is part of the charm. The people we see enjoying Seward Park, are who they are. Most of them aren't there for anyone but themselves, and by that I mean they aren't dressing to impress, or making sure their dog looks good. Well, for the most part.

Bottom line, they are there to enjoy this great space in the middle of our city. That makes me enjoy it, too. Yay for Seattle, I say.

For more Pics from Steppin' Out at Seward Park, see my Picasa album.

Nothing Earth-Shattering to Say...

Hi guys -

Nothing major to report on tonight. I just wanted to move past my last post a little!

Tomorrow in the early morning, I'll be walking with my friend, Manager Kimi at the lovely Seward Park. I will be taking my camera along so I can post tomorrow night and show all of you who aren't familiar with Seattle how gorgeous it is.

Now, of course, the weather has shifted a tad from the hot sunny days we had early this week. The cloud cover is back, and it's a bit dampish. But, hey! That's why we have such greenery, right? I think it's also why we have so many birds - all that dampness encourages worms and so on.

Andrew is at his mom's for the whole weekend. From yesterday through Monday afternoon. He's called both days and I'm not sure how he's doing. He can be a bit dramatic. But those of you who pray, I'd appreciate it if you'd pray along with me in this. We love that little guy, and really want what's best for him.

Meanwhile, Kobi's ninth birthday was Thursday, and I'm taking him and a few friends (his and mine!) to see Up. I've heard terrific things about it, and it'll be nice to have a little diversion during this seven day no TV thing. She didn't say I couldn't do movies.

Kris and Kami are moving him into what will be their new apartment in McMinville, Oregon this weekend. Kami goes back to Colorado with her mom next week to do the final wedding prep. All this change is coming down fast and furious!

Where'd I put that trash bag??

Scripture for the day/week/month/year/rest of my life:

" Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.
I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

Philippians 4:11-13 esv

Well, obviously, I haven't learned to be completely content, but I remember where contentment lies. I'm working on that. "I can do all things through him who strengthens me".

Much love my faithful readers and friends.

Note: sorry about the funky formatting. After I changed it for the scripture quote, I couldn't get it off italics. Argh. Oh well!

Hearing

Jesus liked to repeat things. I think it was one of His ways of making sure we peeps down here would possibly, hopefully get the messages He was trying to get out. Kind of like we have to do with teenagers. And toddlers. And old folks. Heck, I need to hear things a million times, too. Guess it's just a people thing in general.

So, when Jesus says something a bunch of times, that is supposed to be our clue to pay attention. One of the things He said many times was, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." It was kind of a tag line at the end of some parables.

I talk a lot in this blog about the stuff in my life, the processes God seems to be guiding me through to help me make some sense of my heart, my head, and my relationship to Him. We've had a bumpy ride, He and I. He's been faithful, I've been running ahead; He's been patient, I want results and I want them NOW; He's been tender, I turn my back and pout. It pains me to admit this stuff, but it's where I'm at - it's like I'm holding Him off at arm's length while wanting Him to never leave.

The "why" part, I don't know. And by that I mean why I'm holding Him off. Maybe I never will. Maybe I just need to keep inching closer and closer to Him until the reasons for my hurt and anger are all just melted away in the heat of His glory, and my frozen heart is again soft and vulnerable in His Hands.

At any rate, I'm feeling like He's stirring all around me and in me and patiently, graciously, waiting for me to once again be open to Him and to all He has waiting for me - which is all of Him.

To come away from all the distractions and cares of this world, and to hear Him. To have ears to hear.

Much love, and thank you for reading.

Ooops.

Well, I think I put my foot in it today. Tuesday morning is Therapist Lisa time. Today, I went with no agenda in mind, just open to what ever God and TL had for me. Big Mistake. Huge.

Somewhere in the convo, I let it slip that one of the things I use as a major distraction is TV. Like enough hours every night that I wouldn't tell her how many. Darn it. Me and my big mouth.

Of course the first thing she does is challenge me to keep it off, yes OFF, for the next seven days. Whoa there! Seven days, cold turkey? I don't think she realizes what she's asking. No television at all? Can't we just taper down or something? I don't know if I can fall asleep in a quiet room.

What will I do with the empty hours? More importantly, what will The Mentalist and So You Think You Can Dance, and NCIS do without me??? Besides, I just discovered Burn Notice and In Plain Sight...

Crud.

Well, we'll see what transpires. I do have a to be read pile that's about two feet thick. And, I am supposed to be writing...and Therapist Lisa says that going to therapy and then going home and spending all that time watching TV is completely counter-productive. More of that distracting avoiding behavior. Blah Blah.

Good thing I didn't mention Mafia Wars.

The Person Formerly Known as Me

I feel like mush lately. A few weeks ago, I saw a Bones episode where the obligatory body (after all, it is a show about a forensic anthropologist crime-solver, bodies abound) was found in a field wrapped inside a black plastic trash bag. The former person had been - no delicate way to put this - run through a wood-chipper. So, the bag was full of mush. Is this too graphic? Probably. I'll hurry along, but the visual I'm going for here is that when I saw that bag, I immediately thought, that's what I feel like! A big black trash bag full of yuck that used to be someone.

With the therapy, books I'm reading, and stuff I'm getting from God, I feel more screwed up than ever. I think it's the undoing of all the layers I've wrapped around me over the course of so many years. Like that bag of yuck is me, and the part of me that I thought was real is the part getting stripped away. Not very appealing. And most definitely not sexy.

Ugh. I feel like I'm way too old to be doing this crap. Why in the world do I have to clean out the rotted putrid gunk? What will be left of me? What IS me? Sigh.

No wonder I surround myself with distractions. This healing stuff is way too complicated and difficult. It probably doesn't help that I am forever in a rush to get things done. I'm looking for a step-by-step program outlining specifically what I need to do in order to "finish" this freakin' project 'cause this ain't no fun, folks.

It's beginning to dawn on me that perhaps:

1. I'm not going to be able to control this process
2. I shouldn't try
3. I need to keep repeating numbers 1 and 2 until they get through my thick skull

Dang. Well, if anyone needs me I'll be right here.
Heaped up in this bag.
Waiting.

Getting Out

Therapist Lisa is very firm about me needing to have some "me" time. This is time, a huge chunk of time to my thinking, when I am OUT of the house and participating with OTHER PEOPLE in something that I find enjoyable, relaxing, or otherwise promotes my sense of aliveness and personhood. She wants me to shoot for three times a week, three hours at a time. Wow. Three hours. Three times a week. Three.

Okay. So, the first thing I did was sign up for a writing class. Cool, that got me out once a week for two hours, plus travel time. Downside: the last class is next week, and I have to find something to replace that. Plus, I haven't found the other two things I'm supposed to like doing. Okay.

Putting on my thinking cap, I realize that since I've been back in Seattle, I've wanted to do something like kayaking. This idea led to much exploration and research on the internet. One problem with a kayak is that they are expensive and large - hard to transport. So, maybe a club? Maybe. We will revisit this another time.

Photography is another love - most of the pics on this blog are mine. So, I got on the Seattle Meetup and found several photography groups. Nothing meeting soon, but I signed up for one group.

The really odd and uncomfortable thing is that the idea of going out cold-turkey and meeting strangers, even strangers who have common interests, is really intimidating. This reaction is probably one of the reasons I have Therapist Lisa in the first place. So. . . what's the solution?
I don't know. Baby steps?

So, my friend, Manager Kimi, and I were talking the other night about our exercise deficit. She reminisced about how she used to walk with friends down at Seward Park, a beautiful tree-filled place on Lake Washington. It happens to be near her house, and the loop is almost 2.5 miles - a nice walk for two women who haven't worked out in a while. We agreed that it would be a great idea to walk together. Then, neither one of us said anything. You know how you don't push the idea, cleverly letting it slip away? That way, you've virtuously discussed the idea, but haven't actually committed to it?

Yeah, then I thought about Therapist Lisa. Three hours, three times a week. Mmk, next thing I know, I'm saying, "How about tomorrow morning? 9:30?" She's agreeing and now I'm stuck. All kinds of reasons I shouldn't, couldn't go - blame it on the kids, oversleep, I'm sure Manager Kimi would be happy to take a pass on it, too. . .

But I didn't. And she didn't. So we did it, and it was nice. Beautiful, even. It was sunny, warm (but not hot), semi-crowded, but not packed, Manager Kimi is great company. . . maybe this getting out with people isn't so bad after all.

We are walking again Tuesday morning before my next appointment with Therapist Lisa. I know I will be glad when we do it, but I feel my mind already trying to wiggle out of it. Yet I know I want to do this! UGH, ugh, ugh!

Will my mind ever shut up and learn its lessons?

Baby steps, right?

Is This Contributing to My Misery?

Therapist Lisa says that I have an "overactive, over-developed sense of responsibility". I think that's a nice way to say I'm co-dependent. Or that I have no life of my own and I've chosen to make it this way - ouch ouch ouch.

I don't like hearing that a lot of the mess I'm in is my own doing. I'd much rather blame someone else - for instance, God. After all, isn't He the Supreme Ruler of the Universe? Do I not belong to Him? Therefore, it stands to reason that He can fix all this junk. . . am I right?

Unfortunately, when God created us as His image-bearers, He forgot to make us mindless, will-less, puppets. He gave us choice. Some old, long-dead theologian called it the terrible gift of free will. The thought is that God wants us to want Him. He doesn't want us to love Him because we have to.

But it's a double-edged sword. That rebellious, stubborn part of us that helps us survive this world, that strong spirit we pride ourselves in, is also the part that keeps us shaking our tiny little fists at the loving One who created us. And if you're me, blaming Him for all manner of consequences I've brought on myself and for not running my life the way I want it run. I also tend to blame Him for the nasty choices others have made that damage me. Basically, I want God to be my sugar daddy (do they still say that?), not my God. Not the One who knows best, sees all and will, eventually, put every yucky thing right.

Humm.

So, in line with me taking responsibility for my side of life, for the choices I can make and the things I can control, Lisa gave me this little thought to think before I make a move: will this contribute to my misery?

It fits right in with detaching from the outcome. If I make good choices - ones that won't contribute to my misery (don't you LOVE that word, misery?), and then detach from the outcome (let God be God - not me), theoretically, life will be easier, more joyful, and carefree.

Okay, that sounds too simplistic, doesn't it? But what if she's right? What if it works? What if God - Who I completely believe in - can be trusted?

Wow. . .what a concept. I have to ponder this awhile.

Love you guys - thanks for working through all this with me.

Acceptance

I think I've known for many years that one of the keys to a contented life is through acceptance. Back in my married years, I attended several Al-Anon and Nar-Anon meetings. One of the things that really stuck with me is the Serenity Prayer. You know:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change,
Courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

As a new Christian, I read an awesome book by Hannah Hurnard: Hinds Feet on High Places. This allegory drawn from the third chapter of Habakkuk follows the journey of Much Afraid as she travels with the Shepherd. At one point, in the desert, she meets a little flower which pushed through the dry, almost concrete-like earth to bloom, all by itself. The flower introduces itself as Acceptance with Joy. It was able to thrive despite its circumstances. Out of the entire book, that is the only part I remember. It struck me then, and obviously, is still with me.

But, on so many levels, acceptance just feels wrong. As an American (as you know, we are pioneers), as an "enlightened" woman, and even as a Christian, I can find rationale for fighting badness - for kicking against the goads as God accused Paul. Doesn't the Bible say not to be overcome by the darkness, but to overcome evil with good? How does that jibe with acceptance? Acceptance feels like giving up. It feels like surrender. Which, I guess, it is.

What I'm maybe starting to grasp - maybe - is that is a both/and thing. Yes, our Creator hard-wired us to rise up against injustice, that's part of being an image-bearer of Him. To hate wrong doers, to protest on behalf of the innocent. It's very scriptural, too. Just check out the Psalms.

However, ultimately, if we believe He is our Lord and that the earth is His and all the fullness thereof . . . then it only makes sense to do what we can, but leave the rest to Him. My problem is with the leaving the rest part.

I am seeing that I tend to push and push and push some more. I get a cause fixed in my mind, decide it's good (which they usually are), and then go full speed ahead. The trouble is, even if I started out doing a job for God, I stop asking Him for guidance, provision, and most importantly, I stop asking Him if this is what He has for me to do. Just because something is good and needful doesn't make it my job. Ouch.

Super-ouch because I've had to utterly fail in order to get the point a few times. I've lost homes, money, friends. . . I have a very thick skull, apparently.

Lisa the Therapist is working with me to fix this. She talks a lot about acceptance: accepting my past, accepting my present, accepting my future. It shapes out like this: I need to accept reality - how I feel about stuff, damage that I've done, damage that's been done to me. . . I'm learning to say, "I cannot change this. I will never have (fill in the blank)", or "I may never have (fill in the blank)." And further, as a Christian, that God may never fix this or change that. He may never give me the outcome I want and am convinced I need.

Can I be okay with that? If nothing ever changes, if I never see justice done here on earth, if I never get my deepest desires, will I still belong to Him and trust Him? Will I still believe? Will I believe that He is good?

Or will I turn my back on Him, pouting and sullen because He didn't do things my way?

If I am convinced that He is God, the Creator of universes, time, matter. . . how can I possibly be so sure that I know anything at all, let alone what's best for me and the rest of the world? There's a passage in Job that says it well:

Then Job replied to the LORD:
I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted.
You asked, "Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?"
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.

You said "Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you and you shall answer me."
My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.
Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.

Job 42: 1-6 NIV

I'm hopeful that I will get better at accepting. 'Cause endlessly struggling and striving has tuckered me out. I need a vacation. Anyone available to babysit?

The Grand Canyon

I have to say, this has been one of the toughest years of my life. It's not just The Depression (mine, not the country's); or the general upheaval in my life - too convoluted to go into here - but on top of the typical stuff, I have Empty Nest junk, times three.
My older son, Kris, has been working his way out on his own since he graduated high school in 2005, so I'm kind of adjusted to that. But, he did move back home two years ago, leaving Colorado and coming out to Seattle to help keep the family together when Kameron relapsed and was back in the hospital another dozen or so times. Again, that's a long story, and a very sweet one, but essentially, Kris left his close ties to Colorado and a bunch of great friends to come out to Seattle and try to continue his college experience. This selflessness just blows me away.

This year, he moved down to Oregon to finish his degree at Linfield College, and he proposed to his really awesome girlfriend, Kami. I am incredibly happy for them both...but, I have to tell you guys that it's been a very hard adjustment, and I know I'm not quite there yet. It's that whole "leaving" part of "leaving and cleaving". I'm pretty sure it will be much easier for him than me!
Again, I am seriously happy for them both. This is purely my issue here.

Then we have Kelsey, my nineteen year old. She's also insanely sweet and kind of my right hand. Maybe the left one, too. Not only does she help in many and amazing ways, she, like Kris, helps keep my focused and helps me remember to have fun. She started college last Fall. Now, granted the college is like thirty minutes away, and she comes home a lot, but she's really getting her feet under her and starting her life. She has plans. Like going with her dorm friends to Disneyland for a week or something this summer. Like going on a mission trip to Scotland - this June. Like growing up.

And then we have Elesha. Now, I've only had Elesha the last eight years or so, but she grows on you. She and I have been through a lot together, and this year she also moved out into her own place and is taking classes at a local community college...she visits a bunch too, but...none of it's the same, people.So if you look at it clinically, I guess I have reason to be unsettled. These are major changes here, and all of them combined with all kinds of other stuff I've been stuffing for decades helped me into this little valley I find myself in. Actually, it's a pretty deep and long valley. Think Grand Canyon.

I argue with myself that, "Hey, look how proud you should be. Three young adults doing good young adultish stuff". They are on solid ground and I think they all have good heads on their shoulders. I don't mean that they will all be rich and whatever, I'm talking about their character. They have beautiful souls, all three of them. I can not begin to express how very very proud of them I am. They are certainly in better shape then I was at their age.

This parenthood gig stinks. And I have to go through this how many more times?

Pie Crust Promises

I did a good thing today. I said I was going to help our community group with a service project (picking up trash along the roadside), and I did it.

Now, that may seem kind of obvious, because, don't most of us do what we say we will? Um, I must confess that I frequently do not.

I did "back in the day". Back when I was a new believer and full of fire, I spent a lot of time volunteering for stuff and following through. I sang on the worship team, led the children in worship at least every other Sunday with my guitar, led a Bible study...all while going to school full time, working full time, and raising two children on my own.

How did I do this, you ask? I have no idea. It makes me tired just writing it. But, I seemed to have the energy, and really loved the work. I think I felt I was making a difference.

Along the way, my familial responsibilities got much bigger. I bought a huge house in Colorado Springs out in the country and started doing therapeutic foster care. At one point, I had fifteen children and two staff members.

Kelsey was in competitive gymnastics, which required membership in the parent booster club - basically time each month working the Bingo Parlor for $$, in addition to three times a week practices, meets all over the state, parent and team meetings, etc. Kris played football and basketball - some in Jr. High, but all the time in Sr. High. And in Colorado, the public transportation system was non-existent.

I am not sorry about these things - I totally loved going to meets and games and screaming my heart out. By the way, they tend to frown on yelling at gymnastics meets. It's kind of a "refined" sport, like tennis or golf. My bad.

During all this increased activity on the home front, I still felt pressure - probably just from me - to do my work for the church. Like attending the big events the church put on, practicing and singing in the worship team, having my kids as involved as they could be in the children's things...I think I got fried.

My expectations of myself didn't change with my increased family responsibilities. I think I decided that my value as a Christian and as a person were wrapped up in what I could do. And so I did, and I did, and I did. Way too many things. That's when my grip started slipping. I made promises, committed to be on committees, said I be at an event...and not show. Oh, usually I'd call, usually. After all, I have a house full of excuses.

But, James said, "Let your 'yes' be yes, and your 'no' be no" (James 5:12). I've wandered a long way from that.

Mary Poppins called them, "Pie crust promises. Easily made, easily broken".

I'm really just becoming aware of how bad this has gotten. How easily the excuses come, and how hard it is for me to simply figure out if I can or can't say yes. Actually, sometimes I know I shouldn't say yes, and still don't. I think they call that co-dependent. I call it being a chicken.

At any rate, if you are one of the people that I've let down - I sincerely apologize. My intentions are usually good. I just don't know my own weakness. My responsibilities are huge, and I'm trying to get myself back in order ('cause I'm kind of a basket case right now). According to Therapist Lisa, I am NOT to commit to more projects. So, please, if you can, forgive me.

And if I have to say, "no" to you. . . please be kind.

Detaching from the Outcome

Okay - so do you ever have phrases and sayings that buzz around your brain for years - or am I the only one? Things like the Big Mac song:

Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun

Or chants like Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack? The theme from the Love Boat? Anyone remember Lilly Tomlin on Laugh-in..."one ringie dingie, two ringie dingies..."? How about all the words to Yellow Submarine?

It truly amazes me how these things stick in my brain, but I forget what the kid standing in front of me is called. And I probably named him or her. I once called my son Willie. He had to remind me that that was our dog's name. His name is Kris.

But I digress.

Therapist Lisa told me something the other day (or week, it's a little fuzzy). I was sharing how I am a very good starter. You know what I mean? I have lots of ideas - great ones, probably - and get all excited. I plan, think, scheme, research - generally spend a lot of time and energy on said Great Idea.

But implementation, that's a different story. Somewhere in the scheming I start to pull back. Maybe I get afraid. Maybe I'm unsure of how it's going to turn out, so I stop. No one likes to look stupid. No one likes to FAIL. Risk is risky, right?

But we've all heard, "nothing ventured, nothing gained"; and "if you keep on doing what you've always done, you'll keep on getting what you've always got". Pithy sayings like that.

What does all that mean, anyway? When you are in the throes of something you think might be good, might be fun, might be life-changing and you freak out...I can practically guarantee that those little slogans won't help you much. In fact, they seem to up the ante on pressure. "What ifs" trump pithy almost any day.

Therapist Lisa gave me a good one, though. She said that I needed to "detach from the outcome". Just that simple. Detach From the Outcome. Cool. Do your best, work it, and release. In fact, release while you are doing your best and working it.

Okay... so I'm trying it. And you know what? It's working. I'm dipping my frozen toes into the swirling hot tub of life. We'll see how it goes. I don't want to push my luck. Hot stuff can burn, you know.

But for now, this is me, detaching from the outcome and signing off.

Identity Crisis

Hi - I have to share something. I'm having an identity crisis.

See, I entered this blog contest (actually, you guys nominated me, but I solicited the nominations) called The Mother of All Bloggers. Cute name, right? And after getting nominated, I started thinking about it.

I've never actually labeled myself, or my blog. I just kind of write about where I am at the time I sit down in front of this keyboard. On rare occasions, I've had something extra to talk about (like the Mentoring Project), but usually, I don't edit myself overmuch.

Entering this contest has caused me to be tempted to want to win this contest. This led to me "checking out the competition", and reading some really neat blogs. The thing of it is is, first of all, we are all different types of bloggers. There are some mom blogs that are funny accounts of daily life being a mom (and let's face it, there's TONS of material) They had me rolling! There are some that focus on stuff like finding bargains and give-aways (neat concept, actually didn't know they were out there). There are "Christian" mommy bloggers, mommy book reviewer bloggers, mommy travel bloggers...

You get my drift? There's a whole world of mommy bloggers previously undiscovered by moi.

Me, I don't know where I fit in. I had to provide three categories for my blog to sign up for the Facebook Network app for blogs. I was seriously hard-pressed to narrow it down to three.

My writing comes from a pretty broad place. I'm an "empty-nester", I could write reams about how that's shaping up in my life - yet I'm still parenting three boys. I have special needs children, there are multiple facets to that experience - from the daily realities of meds, doctors, equipment, therapies, etc. to how it feels to sit beside your six year-old's hospital bed and tell God, "It's okay, you can take him now".

I'm a single parent - have been for twenty years - I remember the early years when it was just me and my two "original" children. How freakin' scary that was, how much I needed God because He really was all we had. I also am living that life now, with all that time under my belt, knowing you actually can have a son turn out pretty awesome without a dad, and a beautiful, well-adjusted nineteen year old daughter who doesn't hate you. Yet, I'm still raising this batch alone...

I'm a Christian. Struggling and fighting for my relationship with Jesus. Trying to keep it real and honest between Him and me, and bring my heart right.

I'm a daughter. Abandoned, adopted, alone.

I'm a foster parent, and adoptive mom.

I'm a woman. I frequently deny that part of me, but it's pretty much a done deal. I get lonely, I'd love to be wanted.

So, to try to narrow all that stuff down and laser-beam my ramblings in this blog...don't think I can. I write from my heart, and I hope what you read is helpful, or moves you in some fashion. That it benefits you, my readers, and that you find encouragement or hope, or just recognize that you are not alone in how you may be feeling.

I apologize in advance for not being easily categorized. Maybe I won't win any contests, but I will always be real about where I am. And I truly, truly hope that works for you.

Much love,

K

My Ungrateful Heart

I feel the need to beg forgiveness. Mostly from God, I guess, but also from my children, friends, co-workers, and everyone whose life is touched by mine in some way.

My sin, my problem (this one, anyway), is ungratefulness.

It seems like my focus is frequently on the difficulties of my life, and rarely, rarely on the joys, the benefits, the blessings I have. I hate this. I hate it when my children do it to me. You know, it's not the right cereal, you didn't buy yellow potato chips, we are out of milk (are you going to the store, mom?), blah blah blah.

Yet, I rationalize and defend (to myself) my "right" to complain about my lot in life. I'm not really overt in this negativity (am I?) but it has crept out of my heart like a low-lying fog, and is covering up the good stuff, making the blessings hard to see, distorting the reality of how good my life is, and dampening every interaction.

It's a subtle thing, this fog of the heart. Damp, pervasive, corrosive. I think it starts with a little - just a little - self-pity. "Man, I'm tired this morning", "Why don't the kids ever stop bickering?", "I have to clean the bathroom again?" . Next thing I know, these thoughts start coming out of my mouth: "Andrew, sit down in that chair, you'll spill milk all over your shirt!", "I've told you fifty times to FLUSH AND WASH YOUR HANDS!!", "CLOSE THE FRONT DOOR!"

And the angry, self-sorrowful, foul fog is wrapping me up in a cocoon. And everything I feel and say seems perfectly reasonable, even justified. Darn it.

They HAVE to sit down. They BETTER put the lid down and aim right! They SHOULD close the front door. They, they, they.

Reality: "They" are little children. "They" don't know, actually. It's my job to teach them. Right? Who is the adult here?

The Bible spends a quite a bit of time on this topic. Being grateful, thankful, content. It seems kind of important to God that we are grateful for what He's provided more than focusing on what He's withheld, or what this fallen world drops on us from time to time. And what's interesting is that when I do take time to pause before yelling, I start to notice again how darned sweet Andrew's goofy smile is or how hard Kobi is trying to do stuff right or how loving Kameron is under all his demands.

When I wake up and delay those "I'm not a morning person" thoughts, frequently I can hear the robins waking up outside, singing and pulling up fat Northwest worms for breakfast. I can hear the boys rustling around, identifying Kameron as he plops out of bed and onto the floor, on his way to my bedroom door to knock and say, "Good morning, mom, can I come in?".

And if I give God a chance to gently blow away some of that fog, I remember again why I am their mommie, and why I love it so much.

They still need to aim better, though.

Eavesdropping

It's been awhile since I read an entire book in a day or two...well, at least one that's about God and faith. I did finish the Twilight series in like a week. And I've bought tons and tons of "Christian" books, because, well, I'm a Christian and I want to have a decent walk with God, and frankly, I need a lot of help with that. Sad to say, most of them are gathering dust on my bedside table, only a few chapters read.

But I finished Susan E. Isaacs memoir, Angry Conversations with God in about a day and a half.

First of all, the title is pretty intriguing. I tend to think I'm one of the few people in Christendom who are angry at God. I also have to say I love the back turned, pouty-faced, arms crossed bride on the cover with God reaching out to her. That too, I can identify with. I'm certain He's spent many many days in the past several years waiting for me to turn around and just listen to Him.

So when I read on Twitter via Don Miller's thread (@donmilleris if you tweet) that someone named Susan E. Isaacs was coming to his Portland church, Imago Dei, to read from her new book, Angry Conversations with God, I checked it out on Amazon.

Two days later, I'm done with it. I may read it again, and I rarely re-read books.

First of all, I am proud of her publisher, Faith Words, for bringing it out. From what I've seen in the Christian book market, some of her language shouldn't have made it into print. This makes me happy, just to be clear. Not that I love and embrace "bad language", but life is hard and sometimes we use strong enough language to express it. I am grateful that her prose wasn't sanitized. Her story was very honest, too.

Susan takes us through her Dark Night of the Soul. She shares her progress through the marvelous method of letting us listen in on her Couple's Counseling sessions - with God.

As a Christian whose been in a spiritually dark place for-well, for so many years now, I've lost track -it's heartening to hear from a contemporary peer experiencing God's silence too. She knows what it feels like to have an incredible closeness to Jesus, to have the sense of His Presence so real and so overwhelming that you understand why some of the old saints used to prostrate themselves. There are no words for it...and then it's like a door slams shut and He's moved on. No forwarding address.

She did the same thing I've done (hopefully, we aren't the only two believers to have done this), moving from church to church looking for that teaching, that worship, that fellowship, that supernatural something that will bring back the fire of our first Love. Ultimately, she tries to turn her back on Him. But love affair with Christ ruins you for the world. I can't imagine a more miserable person than one who has tasted and knows that the Lord is good, and then plunges into this spiritual darkness unprepared and ill-counseled.

Her anger towards God for this, her ultimate realization that she had expected God to give her the life she specified rather than embrace the life He had given her, totally spoke to me on so many levels.

Many years ago, I moved to Colorado Springs, answering "God's Call". The fifteen years that followed broke me down (a book-length story on it's own), and I still find myself blaming God. After all, didn't I move out there for Him? Doesn't He sort of owe me??

Wow. Arrogant little piece of clay, aren't I? My Creator owing me? Wacko.

Obviously, I still have a few issues to work through with my Heavenly Husband.

Stay tuned. Oh, and you should read this book.