If Life Were A Chick-Lit Novel . . .

(i found this "vintage card catalog" maker on nitty.gritty's blog today . go ahead! make your own!!!.)

AND ANOTHER THING . . .
I have been blogging for over a year.
this is post #198.
that is a lot of blog entries.
a lot about my life has changed in that short amount of time.

i started out telling long stories, often with a "moral at the end of the story".
ironically the very subject of my entries (the challenges in the first year of marriage) had me so worn out that i began using this blog as a place to just be silly or creative instead.

but as my life's journey changes, my focus might need to change yet again.
not sure what that will be.
the point is this:
it might be time for my blog to change a little bit, in order to reflect what is currently going on in my world and my thought process.

i am no longer "the bride" wearing the big white dress.
nope.
after a year and five months . . .
i am definitely a wife.
and i am no longer asking myself "what did i just sign up for!?!?!?"
i am getting situated into being a wife.
i am comfortable and committed to it.
i don't regret it.

but the funny thing is,
i find myself looking back to parts of my pre-wife self with a sense of longing.
not the parts of my pre-wife LIFESTYLE.
no. that is not what this is all about.
but the parts of myself . . . the things i had BECOME.

in my mid-20's, before i met herb, i worked on all sorts of stuff about myself.
i was a late bloomer, emotionally, plus i had some family things to sort out.
i needed to gain confidence, peace, acceptance, patience . . . and during that time, i did.
i really paid attention to some growth and healing that needed to happen.
i explored myself.
and god.
i began to appreciate myself.
i explored why i often ended up feeling so disappointed by friends and family.
i learned to let go.
and find worth in myself from god - not from other people.

i learned so much . . .
but never in the context of a romantic relationship.
my new beliefs and sensibilities . . .
my new "parts" were not strong enough
to withstand all of the emotions and changes
that come when you open your heart up . . .
for the very first time.
by the time herbie came along, these new parts were
still little tiny sprouts, just barely able to support the weight of their own buds and blooms.

during that year i dated herb,
i regressed, i think.
i felt out of control.
when i feel out of control, it is because i feel unequiped in a situation - i don't know what to do.
and then i get scared.
and when i get scared i get very angry.
and anxious.
and i cry.
a lot.

but now my head is above water again,
and i want to rediscover those changes in my heart:
the joy.
the ease.
the lack of striving.
just knowing who i am and loving myself.
as i am.
in the here and now.
not expecting or demanding -
of myself or of others.
just allowing whatever can come today to come.
and letting the rest just be what it is.
i was easy on myself.
and easy on other people.
i looked for simple pleasures in the mundane -
and i FOUND THEM! all of the time!
i saw both sides of a story.
and i gave the benefit of the doubt.
i was flexible.
and kind.

i want that back.
and i think i can have it.
because i think those are all things that reflect maturity and a relationship with god.

I don't want to recapture my single life.
i AM a wife.
and i WANT to be a wife.
herb's wife.
but i want to introduce those free, trusting, easy parts to my new, "wifey self" and see if they can figure out how to play nice together.

so, all of that to say, i am changing
and this blog might be changing soon too.
the name.
the address.
the content.

we'll see.
thoughts are certainly welcome.

Sometimes . . .

Sometimes
It snows.
For weeks on end.
And you're are not used to that.
Because even though you live in Colorado
It doesn't really snow that much in Denver
At least not THAT much.

And your body hurts.
All the time.
Because let's face it . . .
You are sick.
And that makes you sicker.
But it is true.

You have lots of little infections
that somehow jumped into your body.
It isn't your fault really . . .
I mean, who gets Lead Poisoning and Lyme Disease on PURPOSE?
Nobody.
That's who.

There I said it.
Did you catch that?
I ever so subtly slipped in two of my little illnesses.

I walk through life . . .
sometimes behaving like I'm sick . . .
because I AM sick . . .
but pretending that I'm not . . .
because I don't want to be sick.

But sometimes you turn 25 and you get tired
and your body aches
and you don't want to return any of your phone calls
even to your friends
and you can't think clearly anymore
not like you used to.
you're brain feels foggy and murky.
and you are certain you have a brain tumor.
and you tell your sister this while hiking through the mountains
even though you should probably be sipping tea somewhere
but you won't
no, not for at least two or three more years.
because you just won't slow down.
why would you?

you continue to work your crazy therapy job
dealing with clients you are not yet qualified to deal with
in the name of "helping the underdog"
by providing inexpensive therapy. . .
and because you are too tired to research your options
and find another job.
but that doesn't strike you as odd.
you just assume everyone is too tired to find another job
even though they are exhausted.

and on the weekends,
you babysit to pay for your high-rollin' lifestyle
that requires things like
paying rent on time
and gas for your car
and eating.
you know, luxuries.
things that your $12/hr with a master's degree won't pay for.
and you don't mind.
sure a bigger paycheck would be nice, but you just figure this is all a part of life.

clearly, you are making really good choices for your life at this point.

and sometimes your digress.
because you have a brain tumor . . .

ANYWAY, you tell your sister about this brain tumor
as your hike through the forest.
because it couldn't be anything else.
i mean, when did you have to start pausing between words
because you can't think of the next one?
clearly, the word-chooser-part of your brain is broken.
with a tumor.
and your sister . . .
oh, she teases you.
endlessly.
because sometimes that is just what sisters do . . .

so you have this "tumor" and it is really too bad
because
you used to be so smart
and you don't feel smart anymore
and you can't pick out the words that you are grasping for
and you used to have such a nice vocabulary.

So you do what any exhaustsed, worn out individual would do:
you start a book group to reclaim your vocabulary!
And you just chalk it all up to being a little misplaced
and even a little depressed
from finishing graduate school
and turning 25
and all of a sudden being an adult for the first time in your life.

But that was almost five years ago.

Turns out somewhere along the line
you must have eaten paint chips
and forgotten about it.

Note to self:
Don't eat anymore paint chips.

And sometimes
even if you weren't sick
you DO just feel a little depressed
and that's okay
you aren't apologetic about that.

i mean come on . . .
you are a Christian so you know
this was NOT the life we were designed to live . . .
at least not ALL of the life we were designed to live.
and that IS depressing.
it SHOULDN'T feel "right".

But even though sometimes your are okay with being depressed,
Sometimes, it makes you even more depressed.
And sometimes, you even start to despise yourself for it a little bit.
Okay, a lot of bit.

And sometimes you know
That all of this crap that you are and that you feel
Is not real
It is not true
Sometimes you know that it is all a veil.
It is covering something that is more real.
Things like joy and kindness peak out from random corners and dark crevices.
Creative things pour out of your brain and your mouth.
And you know there is more.

And sometimes that depresses you because you can't seem to grasp the "more"
But sometimes
It brings just enough hope.

And then
Sometimes.
Just sometimes,
After the ground has been covered in snow for a full month,
You look outside of your window
For no reason at all
And you see
Grass.
Flat, tired, wilty green-ish grass.
But grass none the less.
And you cry.
Because you had forgotten that
While the snow may come . . .
While it might pile itself real high up all around you . . .
It melts.
And there is grass beneath it.


(*a fun song recommendation for today . . . well, okay, not fun . . . actually kind of melodramatic . . . but quite insightful and clever and sometimes, if you are feeling overwhelemed by a month's worth of snow . . . very comforting . . . because somebody else feels that way too . . . check it out!)

By the way . . . the song isn't really about snow or february or wood chopping or flower bulbs . . . . and neither was this post.

The Engagement

This is a picture of my first scrapbook page . . . I made it this past January. It tells the story of our engagement. What a lovely evening! There were a handful of times when I knew, for sure, that I would marry Herb. I was very timid about dating in general . . . typically cut off any perspective relationship by date two or three . . . but with Herb, I know I needed to keep going. But that didn't stop me from being nervous . . . just like everyone, I have my issues & scars . . . especially when it comes to trusting men . . . but that is another story for another day . . . or maybe that is another story that just doesn't need to be highlighted. I am not sure. But all of that to say, going out with Herb felt like a big risk. After Herb asked me out for our second date, I remember telling my roommate, "I don't want to go out with him! But I do know that I am going to marry him. So, I guess I need to go."

It was one of those things. Intuition . . . the Holy Spirit . . . whatever it was . . . I knew. Sometimes, we have to move towards things even when they scare us. And I did. And I do. And I will continue to.

How is that for a cryptic post?

You can find another story (written on 10/31/06) about how I knew I would marry herb here.

Cardboard Girl

she is a prisoner
in a cage whose door has no latch or lock
held captive by words like "then" and "should" and "impossible"
she carries a pine tree shaped car deotorizer in the back pocket of her GAP jeans
and pulls it out to impress her cell mates with stories of her adventures in the backcountry
adventures that she weaves as she goes along
sniffing the cardboard cutout
when she forgets what might come next
she has only ever seen photos of trees
because nothing real grows in her cell
except her belly's self-indulgent buldge
rope swings and tree climbing contests frighten her
she is fearful of splinters and sap stains

Maybe Not

My friend Libby has decided to take a ride on the Change Train this summer. Her Change Train is on a non-stop route; destination unknown. The conductor is a scary, tatoo clad personal trainer. To hear her describe this vehicle makes me think of the scary boat ride on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I always had to close my eyes during that part of the movie. And if the Change Train at all resembles the boat, then my response is the same. I don't mind adventure. Nor do I resist new things (with the exception of course, of sushi. and now that i have mentioned sushi, i fear that any comments i receive will be about how i am missing out on God's favorite food. let's try to stay focused, people!).

But real change. The kind that causes you to forgive, let go, make new habits, believe in God at a new level . . . you will always find me covering my eyes and rocking back and forth at the mere suggestion. And with the exception of the promise of "ridiculous fun" and viewings of "Sex and the City" reruns on DVD, I want nothing to do with Libby's change train.

The funny thing is that I have spent my whole life held captive by the belief that I need to change. I want to change. Sometimes I am so immersed in self-disgust that all I want to do is change. I have spent hours dissecting myself with the hope of finding the cancer that has caused such disdain for myself. But I can't find it. Maybe my biggest problem is that I won't accept that there is a blood coursing through my spiritual veins that ripped the cancer from me years ago. Maybe the root of my sickness is my obsession with needing to be broken.

Grace, she carries a world on her hips

We spent some time this weekend with a friend in need of some grace. And the person she needs it from can't give it to her. This same tune has been playing on the Harjes Haus soundtrack all week. I am also in need of some grace from someone in my life who can't give me the break I don't deserve but desperately require in order for our relationship to continue living.

It is so easy to be angry at these people who see our faults, point them out, and then hang them over our heads chanting, "You are not good enough!" It makes me so angry. We're wrong, okay?!!?!! Me, my friend, the whole flippin' world - we are wrong. Not just in what we did but in who we are. We are so wrong we couldn't possibly be made right on our own. We get it. So, just stop saying that. Just stop!

But when I woke up this morning, I realized that I understand where they are coming from - much more than I would like to admit. I realized that I do the same thing. I realized that it fits right into something that has been nagging me the past week. I expect so much more from Herb than what I am willing or able to give him. I demand grace from him, but I am very very slow to give it to him.

For me, the source is fear. I am so scared to make allowances for the faults of others in my life, for fear that I will be absolutely wiped out by their faults. I fear for myself. My life. My safety. I fear that if I overlook a misstep, an oversight, an unkind word, a miscommunication, a hypocritical action, that I am opening myself up to pain.

And maybe I am. Maybe grace requires pain? Maybe it can't exist without pain? Maybe pain is the source of grace? Maybe I have to count on being hurt if I give grace?

Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness in everything

Grace, she's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside of karma
She travels outside of karma
When she goes to work
You can hear her strings
Grace finds beauty in everything

Grace, she carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips between her fingertips
She carries a pearl in perfect condition

What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace makes beauty out of ugly things

(lyrics by U2)