Saturday, May 19, 2012

Perspective


Welcome to 5 Minute Friday:

Today's prompt: Perspective.

It's hard some days to have any type of perspective in the trenches of it all. I try to be the good wife, the good mother, a good prayer, a good employee. Most of my brain is scattered. Pieces of me here and there. 




I'm building my way up .. up where? I haven't a clue. There's always some goal to lose this extra weight, or to get that light fixture up, to look at the stars more, to read more. At the end of the day when the kitchen is still a mess, the floor is sticky and baby is fast asleep, I escape it all and try to find sleep. Oh glorious sleep. I should get more sleep, I should get to bed earlier.


Alas, the next day's confusion beckons as the alarm clock wails.

Will I ever see what matters?
Or will these walls come tumbling down one day?



Saturday, May 12, 2012

Identity

On Fridays over here a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.


Today’s prompt:
Identity

I am:
Woman.
American.
Indian.
Short.
Smart.
Friend.
Wife.
Mother.
Writer.
Artist.
Lost.
A Size 4.. once
Now a size I don't dare admit.

Too many times we limit ourselves in definitions.
Every so often,
I’m dying
to be
Free.
To
Just be
Me.
To accept.
To love myself as I am.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Instant wrapping paper

Have your little one draw on long pieces of plotter paper.

Roll em up, keep it for future use
When you need to wrap a gift, use your little one's art work and voila!

Always a hit with friends and grandparents.


Monday, May 7, 2012

No one came to my birthday party

I was in high school.
I had three friends that I always hung out with.. maybe not that many.
My best friend put together a party a week before. It was amazing. Most of the people there were her friends. I was still grateful.
My dad wanted to do something too. He didn't know me. My life. He was strict. Made absolutely everything difficult. Going out to the school play took weeks of planning and preparation to just even ask the question. With a shaky voice I presented my case: gave the time, date, who I'll be with, when I'd be back and why it was important for me to go. He never actually said yes... just a dismissive grunt and a wave of his hand as if I was a fly that was pestering him.
Anyways, so I didn't really invite many people. I didn't really know how to put together an invitation. I didn't know how to ask.
So the day came, the cake was ordered, the house was immaculate, the pool inviting,  the barbeque was going and massive food was prepared. No one showed up. Embarrassed. Sad. Ashamed. It still stings today. It was probably the last party I had.
I've been working some of my dad issues for the last 11 years.

Today was the first time I actually remembered he got on the phone, called up some of his friends with kids my age and they all came over. We had a BLAST!!! We danced, we ate till we were stuffed, we splashed each other in the pool. He came to my rescue.
Why am I just realizing this now? He was there for me all along. I mattered. I was loved. I WAS cherished. That one moment defined him as a man, as a father. It's crazy to think that everything I ever wanted, I already had. I was just blind through it all..

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Book Review: The Help by Kathryn Stockett

The Help by Kathryn Stockett


The best parts of this book:

"It's eating me up, not knowing, but what I do know is, a month ago, I decided there had to be a more dignified way to die than having a heart attack squatting on top of a white lady's toilet lid. "

"She like one a them baby chickens that get confused and follow the ducks around instead."

"... he kissed me so slowly with an open mouth and every single thing in my body- my skin, my collarbone, the hollowbacks of my knees, everything inside of me filled up with light. "

"I stare at her and my anger is sudden, ferocious. Everything I've kept down for months rises and erupts in my throat."

"... For forty-eight hours I've done nothing but type. I am stupid with facts about other people's lives. My eyes sting from the smell of typing ink. My fingers are striped with paper cuts. Who knew paper and ink could be so vicious. "


Personal reflections:
Okay, so I had heard all the hype about the movie.. how hilarious it was. I saw bits and pieces from a preview. I heard a couple people I admired and respected rave about the book. So of course I had to get to reading this gem.
I have to admit, there are some hilarious parts that get you laughing out loud. But most of it is so sad... so disturbing. I still find it hard to fathom the evil that lies underneath of mankind. I've seen this kind of person in my own life, my own family, my lifetime. I still am unbelieving. This was an excellent book. Well written. Well thought out. This is one that will stay with me forever. One that will hold my very soul captive.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Together

"On Fridays around these parts we stop, drop, and write.
For fun, for love of the sound of words, for play, for delight, for joy and celebration at the art of communication.
For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not."

Today's prompt: Together

So this week the Lord has really brought the story of the prodigal son to mind. It started with me just randomly turning on Joyce Meyer, then the next day a Rembrant painting appeared depicting the story and then my daily devotional came up with it! It was crazy. I know I need to get myself in the WORD as fast as I can when the Lord has been speaking to me like this. I started reading. I started writing. My marriage came to center stage. The players started to deliver their scenes as the last couple months unfolded fast in my mind. I saw what the Lord was telling me. This is what they call a "breakthrough". I am the resentful, prideful older brother always keeping an account of wrongs. And boy do I keep some good accounts! Humbled. Sad. I asked the Lord to just give me sight, give me the words, and rid me of this vile hateful self that clings to me. I don't know how to be better. Then the Lord brings to mind a handful of people in my life who are there for me always; who represent God's love and counsel in different ways. The answers have always been in front of me.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Review: Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand


The best parts of this book.

“In the barracks, one of the men in the pillow fight suddenly fell to the floor. He was dead, a three-inch hole blown through his neck. His friend ran to a window and saw a building heave upward and crumble down. A dive bomber had crashed straight into it. There were red circles on its wings. “

“It remains a mystery why these three young men, veterans of the same training and the same crash, differed so radically in their perceptions of their plight. Maybe the difference was biological; some men may be wired for optimism, others for doubt. “

“The same attributes that had made him the boy terror of Torrance were keeping him alive in the greatest struggle of his life.”

“The paradox of vengefulness is that it makes men dependent upon those who have harmed them, believing that their release from pain will come only when their tormentors suffer.”

“Dignity is as essential to human life as water, food, and oxygen. The stubborn retention of it, even in the face of extreme physical hardship, can hold a man's soul in his body long past the point at which the body should have surrendered it.”

“ When he turned these memories in his mind, the only explanation he could find was one in which the impossible was possible.”

“What God asks of men, said [Billy] Graham, is faith. His invisibility is the truest test of that faith. To know who sees him, God makes himself unseen.”


“Louie found the raft offered an unlikely intellectual refuge. He had never recognized how noisy the civilized world was. Here, drifting in almost total silence, with no scents other than the singed odor of the raft, no flavors on his tongue, nothing moving but the slow procession of shark fins, every vista empty save water and sky, his time unvaried and unbroken, his mind was freed of an encumbrance that civilization had imposed on it. In his head, he could roam anywhere, and he found that his mind was quick and clear, his imagination unfettered and supple. He could stay with a thought for hours, turning it about.”

“When he thought of his history, what resonated with him now was not all that he had suffered but the divine love that he believed had intervened to save him.”


I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after reading this book. There are so many amazing tidbits of history, literature, and man’s search for meaning that I could write and write and write and still never touch the heart of this amazing story. LOVED this book.
Every so often a book comes along that grabs you, changes you and makes you a better person.
This is one of them.




Friday, April 13, 2012

Goodbye

" On Fridays around these parts we stop, drop, and write.
For fun, for love of the sound of words, for play, for delight, for joy and celebration at the art of communication.
For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not."



 

Today's prompt:
Goodbye

Why does the Goodbye Love (RENT) song come to mind whenever I see this word? Sorry. I’m just going to sit here a spell and sing… Was listening to La Vie Boheme this morning from this soundtrack. Some of the best times of my day are me in my car with my music. Could care less about everyone passing me by. I don’t notice people cutting me off. I’ll get to my destination. Could care less about being in the left hand lane. I sit and sing and dis-engage from this world. Goodbye traffic, thank you for giving me a sweet moment to be still. Goodbye life outside this vehicle. Thank you for giving me peace in my soul. I get to my destination refreshed, joyful.. so happy.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Reflections on Easter 2012

I was so pleased to spend Easter with my own church this year. We’re usually traveling a couple states away and spending time with family. Those times are glorious and great, but I’ve been longing to have traditions with my own church just us three. I long to be the matriarch and cultivate my own traditions. Our church was having Easter service at a large venue. I was a little more than irate but I decided to let it go and support their vision. I’m so glad I did.

We got there fairly early and had some time for my little boy to play on every single stair, try to pet the horses, and chat with the greeters. We put him in the childcare facility and I was really glad to see LOTS of adults in the room managing the children. I always feel sad for that one person that has to take care of 12 small children for 2 hours.

We picked a prime spot in the auditorium and relaxed for a bit.

Then..

The music started. It was Handel’s The Messiah. I shot up and was thrilled to hear this gorgeous piece of music. The acoustics made it sound… magical. The last time I heard this piece live was at a Christmas concert at another church and was overcome with so much emotion at all the things that transpired since then. The Lord has seen me through all of it: the anxiety, the depression, the mourning, the celebrations, the joys, the daily angst of life. In this sweet moment, I got a glimpse of what heaven must be like and I just cannot wait to be with the Lord. For this short time though, I am charged with being a light unto this world. Most days I don’t do a good job. Some days I don’t even try. I could possibly be the worst Christian ever. But alas, it’s a new day, He is risen. I take a minute, bow my head and say a prayer of utmost gratitude and feel His presence surround me. Through all my mistakes and woe, He still loves me. ME?! And the music ends… and we applaud and prepare our hearts for worship and celebrate this day.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Gift

It's Five Minute Friday again!!
Yes... I realize it is Sunday..

Moving on..

Gift:
When I was little, I didn't get many gifts. Sometimes I would get a doll or tea set and not know that it was a gift for Christmas or my birthday.. That's just the way it was. I cherished my dolls. I cherished them until my mother would use them as leverage. She had a mean way about her. I was helpless and sad and oh so scared. I never talked or looked at anyone. I knew I'd just get a beating for something so I just hid. Me and my dolls. When I thought I was alone, my dolls and I had the best time with these wild eloborate lives and stories. Sometimes I would mimic my mother and berate my dolls just like she did with me. One day she caught me. She was so mad. And then there were no more dolls. I learned to never attach to anything that day. I learned how to hide. I learned that love is a weapon.