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.

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.

I’m still that little girl

I’m still that little girl

Last one to be picked up

Waiting…

Waiting…

Waiting…

Time moving at a cruel slow pace

Light turning into darkness

Another day of this.

Waiting on them

To come pick me up.

They forgot.

Something else was much more important.

I walk home

It’s cold.

Cheap shoes don’t do so well on ice

Any minute I’ll slam to the ground

Heart breaking into a million pieces

Disappointment turns to anger

Anger to resentment

Resentment to Hatred

And here I am

Forever trapped in this abyss of darkness

Forever lost

Still forgotten

Somewhere, something shifted

And this bitterness consumes everything good

Easter mantle

Grabbed some of Drewbie's artwork, made them into a cross, taped them to the wall, set up an angel and there we go!!

The angel is a new piece I inherited from my MIL.

The white bird I did a long time ago. Printed a couple silhouttes of birds, enlarged them on the printer, cut them out and traced them on some wall stickers. Cut them out, stick em on.

Easy peesy.

The Observed Life

So we had company staying with us this week. I find myself planning to make everything comfortable and perfect.

Stressing about the cleanliness and making sure we have a home that says welcome. It’s a work in progress.

It’s curious that these urgent feelings don’t come about when it’s just me and my little clan. Why?

Have we become too familiar with each other?

Are we taking each other for granted?

Why is the observed life so much more fulfilling?

The observed life changes our behavior.

If I’m being observed, or on display, I act different. I do the work. I make it happen and give more.  I accomplish my goals.

If light is observed, it will change it's behavior.

We are all the light.

Empty

It's time for 5 Minute Friday with the one, the only... GypsyMama!

Today's Prompt: Empty

It's Friday and the weekend's here! Woohoo!!! I do the best I can to shake off the grit and grime of work and try to rid myself of all that it entails so I can be free and enjoy my time here. I'm so happy I'm not chained to a phone constantly putting out fires. So glad I'm not in management. It's a glorious thing to be able to come home and be here. All of me. Too many times people have defined themselves by what they do.  Friends are co-workers and they can never get out of that circle. Oy! I remember those days. It took almost a whole day to recover from the madness. Thank goodness I've moved on and evolved to bigger and better things... better days. Every once in awhile it tries to capture me.. like the black spiderman. Oh, if every day could be Friday. We build forts and drive in theaters and eat all things bad. We stay up later than usual and laugh at nothing. Good times are here... to stay... We also break out in song at every opportunity..

What would be your last meal on Earth?

What would be your last meal on Earth?

What an odd question. What WOULD my last meal.. or.. last supper be? Wow. Let me first start out by saying food and I have a love/hate relationship. I mostly HATE food. I hate all the things it does to me. I hate the way it controls me. I hate how I feel about food. I hate how shameful and gluttonous I feel after eating a big meal. It’s awful. My earliest memory of food is being a child and my parents scolding me, sometimes even beating me so I would eat and not be wasteful of food. I never did eat as child. Teenage pictures of me you’d think I was anorexic.

Fast Forward to now and I’m always looking for something to munch on. There’s always something to devour. Even so, I’m not sure I actually have favorite meals or dishes that would answer this question.

I would love my mother in law’s beef stroganoff. I love it because it’s my husband’s favorite and has become our favorite meal when we visit his childhood home. With this meal comes memories and joy I never thought possible.

 My mother in law also introduced me to this delightful dish called Orange Salad. Oh my word, it’s yummy.

I’d like a plate of fresh fruits like pineapples, pears, blueberries, cranberries, grapes, kiwis, coconuts and watermelon. A big turkey leg with gobs and gobs of cranberry sauce.. another funny sweet memory. Empanadas from the Renaissance Festival. Great times. Wedding cake (almond). Chicken Curry made by my aunt. She also makes this Mango fruit compote that’s just heaven.

What would be the setting for the meal?

I am imagining a beach setting. A light happy wind. Hammocks all around. Just a lazy day listening to the waves.

What would you drink with your meal?

Wine. Definitely wine.

Would there be music?

But of course. I have a wide range of music that I hold dear. I love classical music, Enya, Jewel along with Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, Usher and I just cannot live without my Aida soundtrack. We’d have some club music to dance to shake our groove thang.

Who would be your dining companions?

Everyone I love. My family of course. Everyone that’s helped shaped me into the person I am today. My English teach from freshman year in high school. My 5^th grade teacher. My best friends. My favorite authors: Cheryl Richardson among others. Idina Menzel. I cannot tell you how much I love this woman. I want to be her so bad. Beth Moore. I cannot wait to meet Beth Moore. I love her so much!

Who would prepare the meal?

My Mother In Law with her Beef Stroganoff and Orange Salad and my aunt with her Chicken curry.

Delight

On Fridays we just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. It’s such a relief, I promise.

Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.

OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on:


It would delight me to hear you say you're sorry.
After all these years to say how wrong you are.
To acknowledge my pain... my eternal sadness
Maybe this day will never come
Maybe this is my ultimate lesson
in forgiveness
My ultimate sacrifice
Choose joy, they say
I choose it but I'm stumbling in the dark
stepping on pieces of glass
Pain searing through my body
My only energy source.
My only heat.
My driving force.

Recovery, n or adj.?

Recovery, n or adj.?

Is it a noun or adjective? Shouldn’t I know this?
Isn’t writing my THING?

Recovery. It’s the thing I realized I am doing everyday.
Recovery. It describes this phase or the rest of my life.
I read this book, Captivating, by Stasi and John Eldridge. It’s really awesome. It’s a game changer. I needed it. I needed to find it at a friend’s garage sale. It was a magnetic force that led me to the book on CD. Seve verifies it. He tells me I have anger management issues. He says I need help. Help that’s he’s not able to administer. He feels verbally abused.
The word shock can’t even describe how I felt at that moment.

I wished I wasn’t this person that got angry and let my words fly. I wish I didn’t wield them like a knife to maim, kill, and destroy everything good in my life. I wish I didn’t exhibit this behavior that is so reminiscent of my mother.
There I said it. I’ve become the thing I hated the most. Now what? Now I duct tape my mouth shut and never let it out.

I have a place that I need to go to allow all this out. I need to write a book, a play, maybe. I need to act my aggression out. I need to act it out over and over and over again till it stops consuming my whole being. I need to get this down on paper before my body submits to the black hole in my stomach, It wants me… dead or alive.

Review: The Lover's Dictionary

The best parts of this book:

deciduous, adj.

I couldn't believe one person could own so many shoes, and still buy new ones every year.

celibacy, n.

n/a

fast, n. and adj.

Starvation and speed. Noun and adjective. This is where I get caught. A fast is the opposite of desire. It is the negation of desire. It is what I feel after we fight.

The speed does us in. We act rashly, we say too much, we don't let all the synapses connect before we do the thing we shouldn't do.

You make it a production. Slam doors. Knock things over. Scream. But I just leave. Even if I'm still standing there, I leave. I am refusing you. I am denying you. I am an adjective that is quickly turning into a noun.

posterity, n.

I try not to think about us growing old together, mostly because I try not to think about growing old at all. Both things - the years passing, the years together - are too enormous to contemplate. But one morning, I gave in. You were asleep, and I imagined you older and older. Your hair graying, your skin folded and creased, your breath catching. And I found myself thinking: If this continues, if this goes on, then when I die, your memories of me will be my greatest accomplishment. Your memories will be my most lasting impression.

exemplar, n.
You love my parents, I know. But you never get too close. You never truly believe there aren’t bad secrets underneath

belittle, v.
No, I don’t listen to the weather in the morning. No, I don’t keep track of what I spend. No, it hadn’t occurred to me that the Q train would have been much faster. But every time you give me that look, it doesn’t make me want to live up to your standards.

Personal reflections:

I think I've been all these definitions at one time.

This a beautifully written story. Really fed my brain. I had no idea how starved my head was for this kind of exercise.

This book made me geniunely thankful for the ability to read, to comprehend, to think.

Brillant piece. Really brilliant. Loved the definition of gamut. Such genius.