Archive for April, 2011

April 29, 2011

What do you REALLY want? (In 7 Quick Takes)

Elizabeth Esther asked the question and her answer was mostly focused on writing.

And I’ve asked those questions too, elsewhere.

But when I started asking today I realized some stuff.

#1  I want to be creative – in a meaningful way

Writing is not a luxury. Creating is not entertainment.

They stabilize- root– my natureAnd give my flighty physicality (and mentality) the means to be still long enough to recharge.

And as a stay-at-home and teaching-mom, this is the only (short-term) project and sense of contribution-/connection-to-society I get.

I expect people to scoff at the idea I’m writing a “YA romance” (a fantasy no less!), but I argue, tearfully at times, that these kids need a pure model.  An inspired hope.  I know I never found those in high school.  Call it grandiose and foolish if you must (I know I do at times), but fiction is a necessity, and if God provides a way for me to actually finish this I believe it will be very important.

Regina Doman is my delight in this, despite having *not* read all her books.

#2  I want community.

I want a place and group of people with a readable standard and social system (I have a history of figuring things out right after I need them).  This community needs to be welcoming and open to people less-outgoing, or less-confident than me, so I can learn to be welcoming myself.

Community is the freedom of limits: I don’t need to be all things to all people, because we have different gifts, and God doesn’t have to depend on my exhaustion to accomplish His will

#3  I want connection

I don’t need everybody to know my name, or even *get* me when I first show up, but I do need to be remembered.  I need to know I can build relationships over time and won’t continually be starting from scratch.

I’m used to confusing people, and over the years I’ve learned how to do that less, but nothing compares to that beautiful rest when someone values you enough to get inside your head, to see past the clutter to be impressed by the furnishings.

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April 28, 2011

Everybody Hurts

The Aching Place.

I barely have to read the words and I can feel the lump in my throat.

I read her story, but the words were enough before I even guessed the source of her pain.

Because we all carry hurt.

Years ago I confided to a friend that I felt I was becoming more “feminine” because I found tears at “steriotypical” emotional moments so much easier to cry for. My friend looked at me a little funny and said, “I thought I was getting more ‘spiritual’ when my tears came easier. Ended up I was just depressed.”

I didn’t ask if she thought I was depressed. I had enough on my mind and maybe I didn’t really care.

Now I’ve come through several months of depression.  The depression was worse during the dark months, but it’s come on in such a way since then that I have to wonder about the spiritual side of things.

And anyway, I hope I am learning the difference between exhaustion and  depression.

The now-oriented and investigative part of my mind keep forgetting I can get depressed.  It continues to surprise me.

That it can  return.

And now I have to sort through yet another layer of experience: Am I “allowed” to believe tears when I recognize depression in my make up?

This is the difficulty when I’ve been trained to trust conscious thought over instinct. These are both intangible internal processes, and I’m ready to smack some bottoms and tell the quarreling siblings it’s time to quit competing and submit to Almighty God.

I’m through playing favorites.

April 27, 2011

What Have I Got to Say?

Exploring is dangerous and selfish stuff.

So dangerous and so selfish I don’t want to be “public” yet.

It’s dangerous because there’s no guarantee you will be right.  Or that you won’t look like a fool.  Or even hurt people you love very much, simply by showing an interest in things that maybe they think you shouldn’t notice or care about.

  • My kids are hurt (sort of) when I won’t let them see a movie with me (Latest example: Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  They freaked out at the end of the latest VeggieTales.  That’s all the evidence I need they’re not ready for a sea serpent.)
  • My husband was hurt when I told him I was seriously considering the Catholic Church.

After a hurt silence he told me, What I want  to do is say Don’t let the door hit you in the butt.”

Two days later I asked him if he was done being mad at me.  He looked surprised. “I’ve been done this whole time.”

“What about kicking me out?” I asked.

“It was just the first thing I felt.  Not the thing I’d do.  It’s wrong.”

Strike-One against my own patience.  Want to guess how much anxiety I wouldn’t have carried if I’d cared less for his feelings?

Anyway, I expect this blog to be a place to practice what I want to say, until it is formed fully enough to be a coherent defense. Coherence is good, right?