So we’re into March already and I’ve failed miserably at my blog-a-day resolution. Oh well, it ain’t the first thing I’ve failed at and it surely won’t be the last. I guess if I were one of those people who was really ambitious, set goals and then saw them through, my life might be a lot different. But I’m not one of those people. When I think about my ability to plan, save, etc. I generally come up short. I guess the good news is I try to relish the here and now…
I suppose I have followed at least one golden rule, my treasures are definitely stored up in heaven and not on earth. Well, that’s not entirely true. My truest treasures are my children, my family and my friends, who are like family. Those are the ‘things’ I have always revolved my life around, whether it be where I’ve lived or how I’ve lived. I have made sacrifices in order to put my family first and that is something I don’t regret. Still, I wonder at the people who seem to struggle less. Whose husbands make enough to support them and still have enough left over to save and spend on vacations–my husband works very hard. He’s a great provider, but we still struggle. Partly because I’m not great with money, but mostly because he hasn’t gotten a raise in almost 5 years. But again, it’s all relative. He’s employed and he likes what he does, most of the time, and he’s good at it. It could definitely be worse–and has been. Struggle seems to be a common theme in our lives, in one form or another. But now on to more positive things….
The other day it was warm enough to roll down the windows in my car and I blasted some Neil Young and enjoyed driving around for awhile. I have always loved listening to music in the car and lately my experience has been upgraded, since my husband got me an iPod for my birthday and put all my cd’s on it. In my earliest days of driving I would take the long way home so I could listen to the radio as long as possible. Something about singing in the car, whether driving alone or with someone else, has always been therapeutic to me.
When we were first married, we had a car with no stereo and we were on a long trip back home to visit from Northern California, so I sang songs to entertain my husband and myself. I guess music is just an integral part of who I am–it’s at my core. I’ve always thought if I had to ch
Like so many things about myself, it took me years to realize they were somewhat unique to me. Not everyone grew up wanting to be a singer, or an English professor, or travel around in a V.W. bus and chronicle it ala Travels With Charlie. The more I get to know of others the more I realize I am not like everyone else–my interests are individual–and whatever it is God intended me to do with them remains to be seen on some level.
But I had a to-do list in my 20’s, and one of the things on it was to sing in a coffee house. At about 22 I fulfilled that goal by getting up in front of a small crowd with just my guitar and singing some songs I had written. I earned a dollar in tips, but more than that, my confidence was bolstered. Later I would get a job as a writer–another dream/goal of mine. And I learned I had to push myself beyond my fears and self-imposed limitations and try new things, even when they scared me. As a result, I have grown and I have discovered abilities I might not otherwise have realized I possessed. I have a long way to go yet, but I can look back and see some progress at least. Perhaps my bank account doesn’t reflect it, but the richness of my life aren’t measured by the federal reserve….
I realized something (anew) last night, that I have hope and a purpose.
“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you, not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer. 29:11
I know that verse by heart. I quote it to others all the time, but have I ever truly believed it applied to me? I don’t really think I have. That is not to say I have never had hope before, but simply that it is not something that comes naturally to me. I spend so much of my time living in regret and beating myself up. Or spinning my wheels and wondering what it is I’m supposed to be ‘doing’ instead of just doing what’s in front of me. What I’m supposed to be doing at this moment in time, is being the best Mom and wife and friend I can be. That’s it. Nothing earth shattering, yet so very important to those whom God has entrusted to me.
It has occurred to me before that my own suffering has helped me to be more empathetic to others going through similar suffering. And I have long believed that my trials were not in vain, per se. But last night, listening to Rob Bell, it dawned on me that this very mind-set, that I consciously or unconsciously stumbled upon, is the mindset God calls us to. The more we suffer, the more in-tune we become to others’ suffering, and as a result, the closer we come to understanding the heart of God.
After all, isn’t that ultimately the purpose of our Faith? To be made into God’s image; to become more like Him. And what He did was come and suffer and die to himself, for others, for us. So in turn, our own sufferings, if we allow them to and by God’s grace, turn to riches we can share with those around us.
The human condition—we’re all essentially subject to the same struggles, and what we want more than anything is to feel understood, accepted, and loved, as is. But in order to be able to give this kind of love to others, the stripping away of our self-love is required. The stripping away of the facades that say to the world “I’ve got it all together, I’m a success.” I’ve never really had that crisis of confidence, because I have always been so good at failing. But I realize now what a gift that is. That in failing, I become bound less by human nature, while becoming more like the One who suffered and died for us. It is that same dying to self that makes us into His image.
So instead of striving for success, in whatever terms we or the world may define it, instead I am elated that I have discovered what a gift my suffering has been. Thank you Lord! As a result, my heart has been transformed, to a heart that judges less and loves more. And although I am far from being a pure reflection of Perfect Love, I feel encouraged that the very things I consider my greatest failures, are in fact the same things that have stripped away any pretense that I have control over anything or that I have it all together. I am an utter failure, and in such, God is glorified. His strength is made perfect in weakness. “My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9.
I get it! Weakness=me, Strength=God. So the bigger failure I am in the human realm, the more opportunity God has to be made strong through me. Not because of me, but in spite of me.
I feel as if my purpose has been reaffirmed and my calling made clear. Whatever God places in my path is my ‘calling’, and anything I suffer along the way only adds to His increased strength. Wow!
My lofty aspirations have waned…this seems to be a recurring theme in my life. I go to bed vowing to become a health nut, then wake up and have another Pepsi… Perhaps it’s a case of hair-of-the-dog. Or perhaps it’s just a flat out lack of discipline. Anyway, I have been sick for over a week, and sicker than I can remember being in a while, so dragging myself off the couch has required a lot of effort and blogging just seemed too strenuous. It’s probably just as well, I was probably getting boring. Trying to think up interesting things to say every day ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. I fear I revisit the same topics over and over and over again…kind of like the cycle of my dysfunctional life.
I remember being about 22 and having a job I didn’t want, but needed, and this really hard to work with co-worker/manager. Every day I had to work with her it was painful. Her superiority complex, etc. In fact, even as I’m typing this, she’s kind of morphed into this picture of another similar co-worker/manager I had a few years later….my point being, life seems to keep handing us the same lessons until we finally get around to learning them. I remember at the time, I was more of a praying woman than I seem to be now, and I would pray that God would help me have a good attitude and be kind–and I even felt like He was showing me that I had to learn to persevere in spite of this person, but guess what? I ended up getting another job and quit.
Perhaps that was good, perhaps not, but cut and run was something I seemed to do a lot of in my 20’s. Only problem is, it’s 20 years later and not much seems to have changed. I guess in some ways I am less able to do that, primarily because my life is not just my own. My choices effect my kids and my husband…but there are so many days I just want to run for the hills, get the heck out of dodge and figure out my plan later.
However, my life (and the ruins of it) are a testament to how well this philosophy does NOT work. The people I know who own houses, and drive cars that aren’t 10 years old, have strong work-ethics. They stick to what they start, they made plans in their 20’s and actually saw them through. I always kept hoping things would just fall into place, but they never quite did.
So now I am the poster-girl for the reap and sow law, and I go around whining about the state of things when I have no one to blame but myself. If I had a time machine, I would go back and do some things differently. I wouldn’t change the course of my love-life, even though it’s been tumultuous. Or becoming a mom, because those are the good things in my life. But perhaps I’d start that IRA a little sooner and then actually put money in it every month. I’d take that leap at 30 when I thought buying a house for $69,000 was risky (Ha!) and maybe stick to my marriage a little better, rather than, well, cutting and running every time things didn’t go the way I wanted them to.
I guess the upside is, I have learned a few things over the past 20 years–but there is still so much to learn, so much growth that needs to happen, so much room for improvement. I have to remember not to spend all my time kicking myself, and instead focus on the here and now and try to listen to the One who is wiser than me. Luckily, He’s never once cut and run…
I’m thinking about having a mid-life crisis. But how do we know when we’re actually mid-life? Is it 40, 50? Guess it depends on how long we’re planning to live. Either way, I have the crisis part down pat! The other day my friend said “Maybe you need a life coach.” Her thinking was that I don’t seem to be budgeting and I said, “Sure, I can write up a budget, I just can’t seem to follow it”. What exactly does a job coach do, anyway? Follow you around and make you be responsible? Well, in that case, I probably do need one, but I don’t want one. I continue to lack discipline in just about every area of my life and I continue to have little or no desire to change. My goal is to have no goals….okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. There are things I want to achieve/acquire, I just don’t want to do the necessary work to achieve them. (This seems to be a recurring theme in my writing, so forgive me if you’re as sick of this subject as I am!) It seems to take catastrophic circumstances to light a proverbial fire under my ass, so since most of the time things are fairly calm, I am usually content to stagnate. Okay, maybe not content, since I am, by definition, pretty much a malcontent. Never truly happy, never satisfied, and slightly chemically imbalanced. So maybe that’s why I tend to embrace the eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we die philosophy, only I keep not dying which tends to be inconvenient for those of us who have no nest egg or long term plans.
As it stands, I’m going to have to die young or work til I die. And since work seems to not be my strong-point, I guess dying is looking good. Of course I hope you’re reading this with a grain of salt. I’m not suicidal–I want to see my girls grow up, but there are days that I am just so overwhelmed by life I cannot seem to grasp the brevity of it all.
I am still trying to figure out what to be when I grow up, or rather, when my girls grow up and I can no longer ride the coat-tails of motherhood. The same friend who suggested a life coach asked me what I like to do. I told her write and sing, neither of which pay the bills. But maybe that’s what I should be doing. Maybe I should really work at those things instead of sitting around bemoaning the fact that my employment opportunities aren’t clear-cut. If I worked full time at writing and singing and made them my occupation, maybe I would become a success at one or the other of them. Or at least I would be productive instead of wallowing in my own self-fulfilling prophecy of failure. And maybe that’s the whole point anyway, to just work at something, whether or not it ever pays off financially–the pay off is the actual process…
I would have made a great rich person. I love buying gifts for people and decorating my house. It’s the monotonous stuff I’m not so good at…cooking, cleaning, trying to pay bills when there’s not enough money to go around. I’m not saying money would solve all my problems, but, well, it would sure make life less complicated on some level. And of course I don’t mean money I actually have to work for. Oh no! I should have been born into wealth, but maybe not found out until later…like an obscure aunt who left me millions in her will. That way I could have gleaned all the lessons that comes from being poor and ordinary (and boy have I got that wired) so that when I found out I was rich, I would inherently know how to be a philanthropist. I’d give to my church, pay off my parents house, that kind of thing, but I’d also hire a house keeper and a cook and drive a Subaru Forester.
See how down to earth I am? I don’t need a Mercedes SUV. I’d drive a Subaru and my ‘other’ car would be a V.W. Vanagon so I could take it camping. And then if I still had money to spare I’d buy my dream car–a 1960’s, 23-window Volkswagen Bus Samba…canary yellow with white trim. I have a small scale model of it on my desk…now all I need is a fairy godmother or some pixie dust.
So yeah, I like that I’ve struggled (sort of). I mean it builds character and all that, but I think 40 years is long enough. I believe it is high time my ship came in…and speaking of ships, I wouldn’t mind a house at the beach, maybe another in the mountains. My log cabin dream home. Or I could even be really frugal and just get a place that has both mountains and ocean. See how practical I am? See how budget conscious I’d be if only I didn’t have to live by a budget…I mean, I’d still shop at Target. I just wouldn’t have to mentally calculate everything I was putting in my cart. Or return stuff a week later when I realized that we were out of grocery money, so that frivilous purchase of new socks and underwear would have to wait…
So I pulled a bunch of muscles in my lower back yesterday. I’d like to say I was doing something athletic…training for a 5K? or even moving my piano, when it happened…but I was stepping out of the shower and toweling off and simply moved the wrong way. That’s it. What does that say about me? My body? My poor abused body that I’ve been less than wonderful to these past 39 years. Oh sure, the first 20 or 25 were great. I could run, miles at a time. I could cart-wheel and dance and sleep in the cab of a pick-up truck while traveling or on someone’s floor. But alas, that ship has sailed, a long while back in fact.
It probably didn’t help that having a baby and turning 30 coincided with only a few months in between. Or that at 34 I did it again, complete with the stomach-muscle-cutting surgery that the first one entailed. Not so great for the mid-section. Of course there are plenty of C-section survivors out there who look great, making a liar out of me. But still, I have never been the same since that second surgery. And I didn’t bounce back as quickly the second time either. And yet there are women out there with 4 children, 10, even 15, who probably look and feel better than me. So what gives? I’ll tell you what, life ain’t fair.
If I had a nickel for every time my Dad said that to me as a child I’d probably be rich enough to hire a personal chef and fitness trainer…but the fact remains, you gotta play the cards you’re dealt, and in my case, I ain’t so great at the game, or the gambling or maybe just the striking it rich part. I tend to put all my money on the same number and keep coming up short.
So I was thinking about how I’m a writer. I love to write. More than that I love to sing. And combining the two, I love to sing what I write. But there are millions of people who write, millions more who sing and such a small percentage who actually make money at their craft. I used to wish that I had a practical gift. You know, that I could be a doctor or a physicist or something clear cut with a decent yearly wage. But truthfully, I wouldn’t trade my artistic qualities for a scientific brain. I just love the arts and I can’t imagine seeing life through any other lens. Still, the term starving artist rings true. I know so many crazy talented people who can’t quit their day-jobs because their art doesn’t pay the bills. It’s a crying shame…but that’s life, and life ain’t fair…..
…But life IS beautiful and lying on my back the past couple days, pondering life, while applying heat to the problem, I realized that although I have a LOT of room for improvement, I’m basically happy to be who I am. Weak muscled, over weight, out of shape and wordy….
Is it just my kids, or do all kids hate brushing their teeth? It is a daily battle around here, one I have grown quite weary of. I don’t really understand it, because brushing my teeth is the first thing I do when I get out of bed in the morning. I hate having dirty teeth, not to mention the breath that accompanies them. But my girls would be content to go weeks without brushing. That said, when they do finally get around to it, (which I make them do daily) they are very particular about which kind of toothpaste they will use. And of course, they do not like the same kind. I have tried, without success, to switch things up, but I always end up going back to the original flavors.
My oldest is all about bubble gum flavor, but not just any so-called bubble gum flavor. Whereas my youngest must have grape. Allow me to point out that there is only ONE brand that makes grape toothpaste. There is a plethora of bubble gum and berry out there in the world of toothpaste, but grape is a whole other story. Not only is there only one brand of grape, but no one, and I mean NO ONE carries it except Toys R Us. Of all the random places to buy tooth paste, this is where I have to go in order to fulfill the wishes of my youngest brusher. I keep waiting for the day when they discontinue it. Then I may have to go on line and buy a case just to get through her adolescence. Or, if I get really lucky, they will get it at the dollar store and I can stock up then. As it is this stuff is $3 a tube. Highway robbery! But, it’s a small price to pay for clean teeth, I suppose.
The real joke of it all is I’m the fool who introduced her to grape toothpaste. Initially she dabbled in other flavors, but a year or so ago I came across Nemo toothpaste, and since she likes Nemo and grape I thought I’d give it a try. Not realizing that I was ruining her from using all other toothpaste. And if she doesn’t outgrow this grape fetish, well, I guess in another 13 years it will be her problem….
By the way, I know a picture is worth a thousand words and all that, but I’m a writer, not a photographer. Anyway, I’m trying to make my blog more visually interesting, but I uploaded that toothpaste picture 5 times and even though I saved it right side up, it would not upload correctly and I’m too tired to try anymore. If I figure out what I’m doing wrong I will fix it later.
Okay, so this everyday writing thing is harder than I thought…in my defense, last night kind of sucked, for reasons I won’t go into. Well, actually most of the evening was nice, we went to my daughter’s Science Fair and then my friend came over and hung out for awhile, but later on, the proverbial shit hit the fan. Anyway! as a result, I went to bed without blogging…and while I lay there I was plotting my escape. Unfortunately (or maybe for reasons beyond my control) I never seem to have the means to escape when I most want to! I guess I should start a ‘get the heck out of dodge’ fund for such occasions. Suffice to say, I wanted to put my belongings into a scarf, tie them onto a stick and hobo myself on outta here.
That has always kind of been my way. When the going gets tough, I get going. I suppose it’s not the healthiest approach to life and its problems, but usually a few hours on the road helps me clear my head and puts things into perspective. My 20’s were punctuated by the many jobs I left or lost because of my impulsiveness. I didn’t like to be unhappy…long-suffering wasn’t really in my vocabulary…but then I got married and had kids and apparently if you want to learn patience and long-suffering, those are the things to sign up for.
Still, it would be nice to take a day off now and again to just ‘be.’ Unfortunately, that would probably be at the expense of someone else, and that seems too high a price to pay, at least right now. But it did get me to thinking, and planning a bit in my mind, about ways to work toward goals I’ve long hoped would just fall into place on their own. This flying by the seat of my pants thing seems to have gotten me nowhere fast…and the closer I get to 40, the more I realize it’s now or never! So I’m formulating a 2-year plan…between me, myself and I. If I arrive at my desired destination, I’ll clue you in then. Until then, I at least have something to work toward…
Yesterday’s blog, had I had enough energy to write it last night, would have probably talked about spending the day with a room full of First Graders. After seven years of NOT substitute teaching, my first day back wasn’t too bad. Of course, I do spend one day a week with Kindergarteners, but the difference is I’m not in charge of teaching them anything, just helping their teacher, with the added bonus of one of them being my own child. However, the exhaustion wasn’t so much from a day teaching, as much as from several days of not sleeping well at night, coupled with a back ache and finishing up a Science project with my daughter.
As I lay awake Monday night, restless with thoughts about working the next day, I wondered how women do it ever day. Admittedly, I am spoiled. Although I have worked outside the home since becoming a Mom almost 10 years ago, it has been few and far between. I have also been blessed with many opportunities to write, which has allowed me to work from home. But given the fact that my freelance jobs have all but dried up in the past year and we seem to be getting steadily more in the hole financially (since everything has gone up, except my husband’s salary) I have been feeling more and more pressure to contribute to our household income. Not to mention the fact that this is the first year both of my children have attended school, so there’s also a little guilt at no longer having that excuse to keep me home.
But truthfully, I believe stay at home Mom’s are still very important, even after the kids are in school. Who else will volunteer in their classrooms, pick them up from school, help them with their homework? Sure, I may get a few hours reprieve when they’re in class, but once they get home, I am busy until they fall asleep. And if they don’t fall asleep, neither do I.
I am a firm believer in parents raising their own children–in other words, I am not a fan of daycare or latch key kids. I know everyone’s circumstances are different and I don’t say this as a judgement, merely as a way of stating my own belief system.
So yeah, in theory, I wouldn’t mind working outside the house, as long as it doesn’t take away from my #1 priority, which is raising my kids. Luckily, I am blessed with a husband who agrees with that belief. Unfortunately, he is over worked and under paid. It’s a catch-22…or maybe it’s the thing that forces us to have faith, and then walk in it….
How do we reconcile what we actually want with what we should want? What I mean by that is, when I think of the type of life I want to live, from a strictly materialistic standpoint, it looks a lot different than the life I’m currently leading. And I don’t even mean things, as much as location and lifestyle. I have always wanted to live in the mountains, but not too remote a place. If the ocean is nearby, even better. To be able to ride my bike from here to there with ease in a place where the weather is mild year round and the air is clean enough for breathing, and to shop at a co-op grocer, or attend a weekly farmer’s market. In this ideal existence, it’s as if I’m a different person altogether, which I know is a ridiculous notion, because if I truly desired those things, I could be doing some of them now.
But I have always been an idealist. In many ways it has been my un-doing, while in other ways, my creative spark. In examining my life, I realize I don’t have certain things, because I am lazy, undisciplined–I haven’t planned for them or worked toward them. I have theorized about them, sure, but theories, not put into practice, are just words on paper.
And I think the other conflict I have always had is my love for my family and friends and the community that those entail. In my truly ideal existence, all of them are there with me. But realistically, were I to set off for these ideal destinations, it would be without them. And so in most cases, family and friends have always trumped a better locale and organic vegetables. Which makes sense–because I do believe that people are the most important thing in life, above all else.
But still, I am wandering along, wondering if I’m on the ‘right’ path or my chosen path, and ultimately trying to find contentment in external things, which is always setting oneself up for disappointment.
Lately I’ve just been praying that God would give me wisdom and clarity. That He would make my path straight, like it says He will in Proverbs 3:5, if we trust Him. That trusting thing still eludes me, even after all these years as a follower. My friend Shannon once told me something she’d heard or read and it comes back to me from time to time when I am struggling with a decision or just what direction I’m supposed to be headed in. ‘Trust and do the next thing.’ It’s pretty simple. We cannot chart our futures, and even if we try, there is nothing to say that something won’t happen to derail us from our ‘plan.’
Besides, I have always been a fly-by-the-seat-of my-pants kind of girl. Eating and spending and being merry, until it’s time to pay the piper. In theory, I want to be one of those people who own a home, a nice car, take vacations and have a savings–but I don’t want to work hard to have those things, or more than that, give up my stay at home mom status, because as I said before, the most important thing in our lives are people. How we love them and how much time we invest in them, that’s the only lasting currency, in this life or the next….