Thanks Giving

Wednesday night and Thursday (Thanksgiving) were times that definitely enhanced my prayer life.

When I got home from work on Wednesday, I began to prepare for Nelson and the crew to head over to Annie’s. Nelson announced that since he and Ann had words, they weren’t going. He was only going over there to make a turkey on Thursday morning and since she didn’t care about that…so I had to call her and tell her that plans had changed—yet again.

Then the dilemma became how I was going to Sis not to come up. I couldn’t imagine three more people in my already too populated house. She covered me and informed me by phone call that she wasn’t going to come up because she wanted to cook her stuffing at home. Well, that was an answer to prayer.

Thursday morning began sweetly and that lasted about two minutes. Nelson was in a mood. We’ve been married nearly 27 years now. And I love him dearly, but whenever he knows he’s going to be around his parents he gets negative. His comments were negative and hurtful. At one point he looked at me and with all seriousness said, “I was trying to think of what I was thankful for, and I couldn’t come up with anything.” That definitely sent me to my room in tears and I took him and the hurt to prayer. It wasn’t just me he was being that way to, it was both the girls as well.

Aside from Nelson’s surliness, the day went well—even with snow predictions that made me quiver. Sis did arrive and I drove her car over to Annie’s. It was blowy snow most of the way. There was only one spot where the car seriously fishtailed and I kept it under control.

We got to Annie’s and put the final preparations on the meal. I had made sweet potato casserole and much to everyone’s surprise it was quite good. (My cooking is more generally the fodder for excessive joking rather than praise.) I even made the gravy! First time I’ve ever done that. And it was pretty good too. MIL and FIL were an hour and a half late. We started without them. And basically finished without them—except for Nelson who sat at the table and waited for MIL to show up with her pecan pie. Since there was pecan pie and pumpkin pie, my pumpkin bars were untouched. (We ate some when we got home and Nelson said they were even better than the sweet potato casserole. Now there was a comment I didn’t expect.)

Coming home I rode with Nelson, Jon, and Beth. It was a tight squeeze, but it went pretty fast. Once home I put away the food, played a couple of online scrabble boards, and toddled off to bed. That’s where I am now. I love snuggling under my quilts and typing on my laptop. But I will take the laptop downstairs in a bit so that Nelson has access to the internet there in his hospital bed.

I have three days off. Three. I know that one thing I’m not going to do is shop. I refuse to go out into the insanity of the holiday shopping masses this weekend. I may see if Rhonda wants to do something. I’m planning on little to nothing else. And it sounds wonderful to me. Cleaning will be to a minimum. Writing and reading will be front burner. Massive quantities of tea and turkey will be consumed. I am a happy camper.

So, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Thank-full

Isn’t it interesting? I make a commitment to be consciously thankful and life jumps in my lap and dares me to continue.

Work has had its challenges this week. The stamping machine has given me fits. If it’s not one thing it’s another. I had a guy really challenge me when I said he and couple other people wouldn’t be working on Monday, because we were going with a short crew due to the number of pieces we had to work with. But I’m still thankful I have a job and the job I have. I was so blessed at the end of the day yesterday. They told us they were going to give us a turkey. I expected a 10 pounder. Nope: over 16 pounds!

Home has its challenges. Nel still can’t make it to the bathroom quickly enough to pee, so I’m still dumping a pee jug. Some days it makes me gag and it’s hard to do with a smile. But dump I do. Our son, Jon is with us for a week. This might not be so bad if we had space, but he’s sleeping on the couch. An extra person with all their “stuff” (including a PS2 game station and all its cords strewn across my living room) is a real challenge to my new resolve for orderliness. And Jon is EXTREMELY anxious. This is in part due to his paranoid schizophrenia and partly due to the meds for the disorder. He paces a lot or stands and rocks from foot to foot. It’s as if he can’t relax. That kind of tension charges the air and makes it hard for me to relax. It makes me thankful for work and the peaceful space that I have created in my bedroom.

And tomorrow. Nelson, Jon, and Beth will be leaving early this evening to go to Ann’s. That’s where we’re gathering for dinner tomorrow. Nelson’s parents are coming. They’re bringing green bean casserole and pecan pie. Nelson’s sister and husband are coming. They’re bringing cranberry stuff (several items with cranberries in them—SIL’s specialties). Nelson will be taking a turkey with him (already cooked). I’ll be going tomorrow with my sister and her two boys. They’re bringing relish tray, dressing, rolls, and a pumpkin pie. Tonight after work, I’m going to make the second turkey, sweet potato casserole, and pumpkin bars. My sis has an Aztec so we’ll be putting the food, a fold up table, and chairs in the back of it. The only thing Annie has to make is mashed potatoes. I think we’ll have enough to eat and plenty for leftovers! The good news is that I think I have everything so I won’t have to go out with the other last minute shoppers.

So tonight I have the house to myself. Just me and my stove. Part of me thinks that would be a delectable way to spend an evening. But some crazy-needs-to-be-smacked part of me is actually considering sending my sis an email and inviting her up to cook and spend the night. I really am torn on this one. My nephews could crash in the living room. Julie and I could play scrabble and cook and clean. So far I’ve been able to resist the urge to send the email. I may consult Nelson. Perhaps a little of the chaos at work will cure me of this extroverted urge and my craving for serenity will override my fear of being alone in the kitchen. We’ll see.

Ok, it’s later. I talked with Nelson and he thought it would be good for my sis and nephews to come tonight. So I sent them an email invite. We’ll see.

I had an interesting lunch. Another challenge so to speak. We had homemade tacos for dinner last night and I put the leftovers in a bowl and crunched up some tortilla chips. I knew I had a packet of Bob Evan’s Wildfire Ranch dressing in my desk at work. I was really looking forward to lunch. Well, dopey me failed to read the packet of dressing: it needs to be refridgerated and no matter how cold I think my office is, it’s not a fridge! So there I sat with a yummy looking salad and no dressing. For a moment I thought lunch was ruined. To my absolute delight and appetite it was great. I tasted everything (and continue to taste the onions, sorry) and it was so good.

I need to quit anticipating the worst. I need to be more joyfully accepting. It (whatever life throws my way) is what I have and I need to enjoy it…to truly count it all joy.

I started out the day tired and negatively anticipating today and tomorrow. It’s amazing to me the attitude adjustment that has come my way. I feel good. I feel blessed. And I am thank-full!

40 Minutes Later

I took Nelson for his second therapy session. He’s made some progress in regaining range of motion. He’s worked diligently on his exercises. I would expect no less from him!

As soon as we got there I checked again that it was really okay to walk through the building. The receptionist assured me. I was walking through two separate workout/therapy areas and down two different halls. I found Nelson’s CD player and popped in a peppy CD and donned my headphones. I felt sort of conspicuous and downright weird, but I pushed through and got in a 40 minute workout. It felt good!

The ability to just go ahead and do this comes from some thinking I’ve been doing this week. At one point I was feeling sort of overwhelmed by my life. It wasn’t a good feeling. I started to sense a pity party coming on. My house was a mess, dirty dishes overflowed the sink, the recyclables were taking over my kitchen. I got to work and my desk was a horrible mess of “stuff” I hadn’t filed or pitched. I cried out to God in my discouragement and the very clear message I got was: So do something about it. And so I did. The misery was my choice, my own making. So I started making better choices. Dishes are done every night, no matter how tired I am. Trash is no longer is in control of kitchen.

And I’m eating SO much better. Beth bought a gift for me: a salad shaker. It’s a cool gizmo where I put the dressing in the lid and then when I’m ready to eat I push on the lid and it then dispenses, so my salad stays fresh and I still only have one container in my lunchbox. So it’s been salad every day for lunch. And I’m drinking water again. It’s amazing how that one little thing makes me feel so much better.

Since today was Beth’s birthday we offered to take her out to dinner. Some friends from work took her out to an early movie. They went to see Chicken Little. Crack me up!!!! She’s 22 and that’s what she wanted to see. When we asked her what she wanted for dinner she said pancakes. And not just any pancakes: Bob Evans pancakes. So that’s where we went for dinner. I decided to try the salmon: excellent choice, even if do say so myself!

Choices. Making good ones has made this a better week for me. They may not seem large in the grand scheme of life where debates over war, life and death loom large. But this is my life, right where I live.

I’ve been noticing lately that there have been a lot more people taking time to be thankful in their writing. I found this while reading this week: “Theologian Henri Nouwen says in his book Return of the Prodigal Son that gratitude is more than a mere ‘thank you.’ It is a discipline to be practiced each day in a conscious way.”

So, since I’m working on becoming more disciplined, here is a list of some things I’m thankful for (in no particular order):
-I’m thankful that I have a husband who loves me, even at my most unloviliest.
-I’m thankful that we have a comfortable house to live in.
-I’m thankful for my job…where I work, that I work, that I work with and for some great people.
-I’m thankful for two incredible daughters.
-I’m thankful for the friends and encouragers I have found through this experience!

Mario Laughter

It is the evening of my baby’s birthday. At this time 22 years ago I was starting into some serious labor and she was born at nine minutes after one in the wee hours of the morning.

Right now, Nelson and Beth are enjoying Beth’s birthday present. Not long ago she told her dad that she wanted a Nintendo Gamecube. Nelson saw in Sunday’s ads that Target had this system (bundled with extra controller and cool Mario games) was on sale. He had purchased some Target gift cards on Ebay so we got the system for a greatly reduced price. If I didn’t know better I would think that there are two giggly adolescents in my living room right now! It’s wonderful to hear their laughter.

I have worked extra hard the last two days. We’ve had a couple new people start so I wanted to keep an eye on them, make sure they were trained right, and were able to see the level of work I expected—and who better to show them than me? I was heaving parts and boxes. I was setting the pace by stamping parts at a killer pace. I just hope I can move tomorrow.

As much as I may be enjoying the laughter, I’m afraid I’m going to have to mosey my weariest of bodies off to bed. Adieu!

Reading, Trusting, and Walking

This evening I was doing some more reading in Foster’s “Celebration of Discipline.”

I read so much more differently than I used to. Growing up, books opened the world to me. Several books and a few authors became my friends. I grew in those relationships. Later, with school and on into all my Master’s work ( I have three Master’s degrees…) I read mostly because “pages” were required or for an assignment. The only relationship was a ticking off of pages read. When I moved into ministry and later counseling, too, reading was to meet an immediate need, whether it be for a message or related to understanding someone’s need at the moment. I read very few complete books, just chunks here and there—and I read quickly!

Now, it’s very different. I read to grow, to understand, to search, to journey, to stretch, and I read slowly. I mull. I ponder. I reflect. I am also very picky about what I read. I like this phase.

So tonight I was reading in Foster’s book, the chapter on prayer and then some in the chapter on fasting. He spoke quite a bit about the way a child so openly comes to the Father. And I began to wonder and ponder about that relationship with my Father. Perhaps that is why I’ve been doing so much thinking lately about this child thing. Perhaps I need to work on my openness, trust, and receptivity with regards to my relationship to the Father. My earthly relationship with my dad wasn’t good. He wasn’t really emotionally available to me. His travels and alcoholism made him less than trustworthy. I confess that has tainted my ability to move even more deeply in relationship with my Father. There’s definitely work to be done here.

And tonight I was reading because I was sitting at the rehab clinic while Nelson was in his initial physical therapy visit. It took an hour. Appointments for the next couple months will be either a half hour or forty-five minutes. Teasingly, I told the receptionist that it was a shame there wasn’t a track there that I could walk on. She told me that the building has a loop that I could walk while Nelson is in therapy. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do! For the next couple months I’m going to use my time wisely and get my feet moving. I’ll either listen to some good music on CD or maybe listen to some books on CD…ooh, I like that idea. Then I can listen slow while I move fast.

Well, right now the fast moving I’m going to do is to toward bed. That storm last night kept me awake. Sweet dreams!

From the Little Girl I Am

A couple of “quotes” or comments have really caught my mind and heart recently.

The other night we were watching a television program that we’ve only caught a couple times, “Ghostwhisperer.” The theme for the week was forgiveness, or better put: the consequences of unforgiveness. Here’s the quote:

Being unforgiving is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

One of the largest issues people seemed to be dealing with when I was a counselor was the issue of not forgiving, whether it was not forgiving someone else or not forgiving one’s self.

Then this morning in ABF(Adult Bible Fellowship, aka Sunday School) the teacher was leading us to think about the discipline of service. She played a recorded piece that featured Tony Compolo. It was a very thought provoking piece—and tear producing. Here’s the quote:

…the poor and oppressed are sacramental. Christ comes through them to us.

Compolo tells a story about meeting a man on the street (an extremely dirty, psychotic, scary sort of guy). The guy offers Tony a drink of his coffee, from the grimy cup in his filthy hand. Compolo accepted the offer, but then suspecting that the man wanted something asked why he offered him some of his precious coffee. The man responded with this: it tasted so good I just wanted to share it. The only thing I want in return is a hug.

“As often as you did it unto the least of these, you did it unto me.” That’s what Jesus told his followers, and it’s the word for us as followers today.

The teacher then prompted us to think about how we were either servants or the recipients of service this past week. I was surprised by what came to my mind as I sat there in the class. Work. And more specifically the people I work with. My thoughts were reinforced today when I stumbled across an article about the denial of voting rights to felons even though they have served their time and their community control or probation/parole. They are disenfranchised for life.

The article hit me hard. Thankfully, I don’t live in one of the five states that denies for life the basic right of citizens.

I had another thought creep up on me yesterday at work. I was carrying on one of those internal dialogues that I often have, when in my head I identified myself as a girl. Excuse me? I’m nearly 50. (I know I have a year and a half to go, but I figure I better start warming up to the reality of that number!) I’m a grandmother—almost three times! I’m a mother-in-law. I have adult children. I am not a girl….I’m a woman. But I don’t see myself as a nearly 50 year old woman.

Now here’s a couple implications of this faulty thinking:
I am always working to be taken seriously.
I lack confidence that others my age seem to experience quite naturally.
(This one is sort of embarrassing to admit) This is probably why I have never been able to fully experience sexual pleasure.

With this “new” awareness, I was pondering what, if anything, I need to do to grow up. I guess that’s a part of the dilemma. I need to really plum this one and find out if I’m merely young at heart and have a slightly distorted self image, or if I’m pathetically underdeveloped emotionally and in other ways as well. I’ll keep you posted on how that pans out.

And FYI: we spent Saturday with the babies. Grammy fulfilled her duty with about four poopy diapers. Sunday was a nice day with friends and good food. And Monday I started drinking water and rededicated myself to shedding some of this excess poundage!

T time

What a week.

Sunday, Annie called. She thought maybe her water broke. I had to have my broken so I couldn’t really tell her what it was like—just what I had been told. I did tell her to call the hospital. The nurse she talked to talked her out of coming in. So I didn’t go racing over. I did go into work and get things ready IN CASE I did get to make a special trip.

Well, while I was on my way home, Annie called and said she wasn’t in labor. Two hours later she called again and she was having contractions that were about 5min apart. I started packing my bag. I left at 8pm. The contractions were at 3 min. I called from a half hour out and she was getting ready to head to the hospital.

I drove my typical 5mi over the speed limit. I made the trip in just 2 hours. As I walked off the elevator the OB nurse told me that Annie had just delivered. I just missed it. She had her father in law in with her and she had him cut the cord. He was so excited–it was his first grandchild.
Caden Andrew was born at 10:18 and weighed in at 7lb12oz. He was 20in long. He had lots of dark hair. He is absolutely beautiful!!!!!

I stayed with Annie at the hospital on Sunday and Monday night. When they were ready to go home on Tuesday I fought the urge to tag along and headed home instead. I felt they needed to go home and spend some time just as a family.

I drove home, but stopped at work first. I had taken Nelson’s cell phone with me on my trip and had been in contact with the work crew several times throughout Monday and Tuesday. I should have gone home. Problems out the whazoo. I was so frustrated. We ended up pulling 30 pallets off the truck because three workers chose to not do what they absolutely knew needed to be done. The standard phrase is "fill the void" with bubble wrap and these orders had big voids, requiring large amounts of bubble wrap. And they put none in–NONE! I was livid. The good news was that Dan fired two of the problem people and the third one quit. The work area was also a total shamble and no materials had been ordered. By the end of today things are under better control...translated: I have things back under control!

Yesterday after work Nelson and Beth drove over to Annie’s so that they could see the new baby and spend time with Penelope. I was excited about having a quiet evening. I got cozy in the chair, with my computer and promptly fell asleep before 8:30pm. I’ve enjoyed a little quiet since I got home from work tonight, but they’re on their way home as I type. The little bit I’ve had has reminded me that I need to figure out how to find some me/quiet time.

Well, I need to clear out the laundry room so that Beth can do some laundry when they get home. Then I’m going to just soak in the silence, breathe in the sweetness of my scented candle, and listen to some Kenny G. Ah, sweet tranquility.

Ascent

How many people do you know who can change the desktop properties and start crying? I make myself laugh…and cry.

I’ve had yellow tulips on my desktop since I went full-time with the R-company in March. I figured it was time for a change, so I decided to check out what was available to me. I started at the bottom of the list. I almost stopped at “home” because I really like that one, but decided to check out the rest. I got to the top of the list and found “ascent.” I clicked on it. I applied it. I sat and cried.

When I went to jail, way back in February of 2002, several different people, totally independent of one another, directed me to hold on to Psalm 121:
A song of ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

I used to think that the “watching” was a very detached thing. I most likely got this from my “growing up place.” We were watched, sometimes when we were unaware, but the watching was usually to catch us doing something wrong. There was very little praise, and I never really felt protected. (I know there’s a real difference between the reality of the protection I received and what I perceived.) It was very easy (translate: natural) to shift that perception to God. You might say that the “theme song” for me growing into adulthood was: Be careful little eyes what you see.

I guess that’s why I continue to be surprised when I detect God’s loving care and protection. I had another one of those revelatory moments earlier this week when I was taking my shower. It was that I was taking a shower and that so can Nelson. Let me explain.

When we moved here to Ashland, we had a difficult time trying to find a house. Landlords and rental agencies don’t rent to felons (especially with my classification), nor do they like to rent to people who have filed bankruptcy (something about liking to get the money). We found one house that we absolutely fell in love with. It was the kind of house that I have dreamt of living in: older with lots of character, knotty pine paneling in the kitchen, nooks and crannies, built ins, and lots of windows. And we could afford it! I wanted it so bad I ached---never a good sign, in my experience. We didn’t get it. They didn’t want to rent to my kind of people.

We weren’t near as enthused about our current house, but it met our needs, was in our budget, and they were willing to rent to us. Perfect. The house has a bath with an old fashioned claw foot tub upstairs and a bath with a shower downstairs. The downstairs bath appears to have been an afterthought. The shower is an inexpensive shower. It’s not a “pretty” room, but it functions wonderfully and is especially appreciated since there is no water pressure in the upstairs—oh, and no hot water.

Now here’s the blessing…we didn’t know when we were looking for a house that Nelson was going to fall and destroy his ankle and not be able to go up stairs. We didn’t know how much we were going to need a first floor bathroom with a shower that he could walk into with his walker. I’m sure we even groused about the poorly constructed, aesthetically unpleasant bathroom when we first moved in not realizing how much of a blessing and provision it would become.

I could go on and on, but let me just say this: yes, it’s been a tough year. I haven’t understood most of what has happened, but this I know for sure: God is lovingly watching out for me and no matter what (and I mean that with the sincerity of the three Hebrew children as they faced the fiery furnace [Daniel 3:17-18]) and I will continue to walk in that truth. Makes me kind of excited to see what’s around the corner—isn’t perspective an amazing thing!

Going Deeper

Monday we were working, but it didn't feel right. It reminded me of my car a while back. I pulled out of the R-company parking lot and put pressure on the gas pedal and my car didn't take off. I was still moving down the road, but I couldn't get any faster than 10mph. I decided to keep driving, hoping it would kick into gear, but even if it didn't I knew I was moving closer to home.

Cars were passing me as I putted down the road. I was afraid the next time I looked up that I was going to be passed by a horse and buggy I was moving that slowly. I neared a parking lot and began the internal debate of whether to pull over. I bit the bullet and headed my car into the lot. I shut the car off. I laid my head on the steering wheel. All the way to that point I had been praying: Come on car. Come on God, please get me home. Come on car. I turned the key and the engine engaged with a much better sound. I pulled out of the lot onto the road and zipped on home. And since that day, I haven’t had any similar incidents with the car.

So Tuesday morning as we were getting ready to start the day I told the crew the story about my car. I was trying to cover up my disappointment over three workers not showing up or calling in sick. (Insert big sigh) I wanted them to have a clean start, after all, it was a new day! I would like to think that I’m really quite motivation, but it might sound a bit braggish to try and take credit for their increased output.

Today, one of the three absentee workers returned. I was very, very happy to have him back! Yesterday while we were working I realized that all the workers were relatively knew. The reality of this dawned clearly on me as my head began to feel like it was being tied in multiple knots. I felt as if I was thinking for everyone. It was exhausting.

Another thing at work has made the week quite challenging and frustrating for me. We now have to stamp the part number, company initials, and date (month/year) on every part. Well, that’s not quite exactly true. We don’t HAVE to until Monday, so this week we have been "practicing" and working out the bugs. And let me tell you: there have been lots and lots of bugs, a couple times I began to wonder if the machine was down more than it was working.

A couple times I found myself just dropping my head and praying. I am so unmechanical and there I was trying to get my hands to work pliers and wrenches, working with air hoses, moving supports, and trouble shooting. I was ten times worse than the proverbial duck out of water. It was awful. Every time I went to change the part numbers my hands would cramp up. I kept dropping tools. I wasn’t able to control any part of the whole process–it was totally frustrating to me.

We were able to package over 1400 parts today. It’s not enough but it’s better. We’ll have a full day on Friday and will be working on Saturday to be able to get orders out on time. The bad thing will be if we don’t get parts next week. I have work through next Tuesday. Hopefully more parts will come in.

As I reflect on the day, I marvel at how life has changed for me. I spent most of my life using my brain and my mouth, now I work with my hands and keep things going by organizing things with my mind–but on days like today it seems very secondary. I find it very hard to be patient with myself, but I am trying very hard to be patient and grace-full. I mean, I’m everybody else’s cheerleader: shouldn’t I be mine, too?

To feed my brain this week, I picked up my copy of Foster’s "Spirit of the Disciplines." Much of my life feels shallow, craving something deeper. I’ve read it before...but there’s still gems to mine. So I think I’ll wrap this up, do some dishes, check the laundry, and grab my book on the way to bed. TTFN

Contrasts

It has been quite a week in contrasts for me, all the way through yesterday morning when the message title was "The Great Commission In Contrast."

Early last week I was struck by the concept of sin, my own sin in particular. I remember teaching about sin and how the deceiver comes at us, knowing how to lure us into sin. I taught then and still believe that if sin came knocking at our door in all its ugliness, clearly holding forth the consequences, we would run from it like we would run from a grotesque Halloween monster!

When I look at my own life, I would never have imagined that I would have been caught up in what I was. The deceiver was premier at hooking my bent toward arrogance, appealing to my need to be needed, and convincing me that I could walk right up to the edge and not fall off. I knew what the outcome could and probably would be, but The Twister of the Truth shielded the depth of loss from my view and convinced me that I could come through unscathed. Lies. Nothing but lies.

Knowing better and doing less resulted in massive amounts of shame and that was the second thing that I battled with this week. I worked last Sunday and while I was working I dropped a gage I was working with. The guy I was working with (who had really been trained to do the job while I was given a very quick briefing on what I was to do and none of the why or detail) didn’t say anything about it so I kept working with it. Wednesday we were notified that there was a problem with the part. I was asked about dropping the gage. I admitted it. I felt so stupid. Then I did what I’m good at: I beat myself up. I let the shame monster rise up and eat away at all my confidence.

Thursday and Friday we started a new process of stamping parts. I felt horribly inadequate. I was functioning out of fear of failure rather than competence. Finally on Friday I was feeling better when I found out that the gage problem wasn’t my fault. But walking for a couple of days in a shroud of shame became the field of reflection for me. During those dark hours I heard a song by Joy Williams. It’s called "Hide." Here are the words:

To anyone who hides behind a smileTo anyone who hold there pain insideTo anyone who thinks they’re not good enoughTo anyone who feels unworthy of loveTo anyone who ever closed the doorClosed their eyes and locked themselves away
Chorus:You don’t have to hideYou don’t have to hide anymoreYou don’t have to face this on your ownYou don’t have to hide anymore
So come out, come outCome out wherever you are
Anyone who’s trying to cover up their scarsTo anyone who’s ever made a big mistakeWe’ve all been there so don’t be ashamedSo come out, come out and join the rest of usYou’ve been alone for way to long
Chorus:
And if you feel like no one understandsCome to the one with scars on His handsCause He knows where you are and where you’ve beenHis scars will heal you if you let Him
Chorus:
You don’t have to…You don’t have to hideCome out, come out wherever you areYou don’t have to hideCome out, come outCome out wherever you areYou don’t have to hideYou don’t have to…

I sat in my office listening to the words and when she got to that verse about how we’ve "all been there so don’t be ashamed." All the loneliness in my heart that I had been trying to ignore welled up in huge overwhelming waves of sobs and tears. I wish I didn’t have to hide. I wish I didn’t have to wear a mask. I don’t really trust enough that there are enough people who will understand, forgive, and still love. I’m not done with this one…revisit we will.

Saturday Nelson and I decided to go visit the older daughter so I could get a dose of my Penelope. Best choice. We played and laughed and laughed and played. And when it was time to go she cried and latched onto me. Then I cried. This little person owns my heart. I can’t hardly imagine how much fun and love there’s going to be with three!

My cup felt much fuller and a smile had come back to my face. Then Nelson and I went to church and it was tremendous. The service again was quite good. The message was fresh and the music caused my spirit to soar. Nelson and I decided to go to ABF (Adult Bible Fellowship, aka: Sunday School). We were received wonderfully. So many people introduced themselves that my brain was turning to mush trying to keep all the names straight. It was a good kind of overwhelming feeling.

Now it’s back to work. I’m not sure what demons will be lurking there, but I’m going in with a fuller cup and I will seek to keep it full…or fuller than I did last week. We’ll see how that works—I’m sure much better!

Possibility

I dwell in possibility.
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I will not live in vain.
We turn not older with years, but newer every day.

The above are quotes attributed to Emily Dickinson. I have the first one on a poster that used to hang beside my desk. I like it a lot. It fits me well.

I was reminded of that poster and sentiment as I was reading through other people’s diaries/blogs. Thinking about it made me curious about Emily Dickinson, so I did some internet reading about her. It sounds like she lived a very sad life. Most of the articles I read described her as a social recluse. To me she sounded depressed, terribly talented and depressed.

I do dwell in possibility. I am an "I can" person. I am able to look at most any situation and see a way to make it better. I love to be given the opportunity of turning around an inefficient or unproductive system.

I attribute this ability to my father. When I was growing up, he worked for Columbia Gas (a natural gas supplier). About the time I entered Junior High he started a new position with the company. He would travel throughout Ohio, West Virginia, Maryland, and to Delaware, visiting various offices, working with them to turn around their deficits. But he was never satisfied with mere improvement. He would turn fiscal disasters into what the company identified as "orchid" offices. It was a complete turnaround. I never got the details–especially when he would dwell on numbers. I did, however, catch the spirit and the drive–the vision for what could be and the consuming drive to get there.

The second quote caught my attention and initially I was ready to say that it really summed me up. The more I thought about it, though, the more it just didn’t seem to fit.

I was reminded of the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. Remember when the Wizard was ‘caught’ blowing smoke and then pulls out his bag to give them what they sought? The Wizard offers the Tin Man a heart shaped watch, a testimonial. The Wizard says something about how the heart will never be practical until it can be made to not be broken. There was a time when I might have agreed. But just as I don’t think my purpose is to be about saving everyone from having a broken heart, I don’t think the best heart to have is an unbroken one.

A baseball player wouldn’t walk into the game with a glove that hadn’t been broken in. A marathon runner wouldn’t show up at a race with shoes that had not been broken in. Without understanding pain, loss and sadness can I really appreciate love? If one knows no disappointment, can one really know joy?

Is that too overstated? Perhaps I need to make that more personal, individual. It reminds me of a conversation I was having with Beth recently. We somehow got onto the topic of my family’s dynamics. We were classically dysfunctional, but I didn’t know how much so until I started reading about dysfunction and double bind when I was living in Kansas City and in CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education). It’s sort of odd. As a family we’re very dysfunctional and in the midst of it all I am the picture of resiliency.

To begin with, I was the anticipated and longed for child–except I had the terrible misfortune of being born a girl. An instant disappointment that lasted until my brother’s birth. So in some ways I have the characteristics of a first born, but many of a second born. Talk about identity confusion.

Then I had the added burden of being born with a defect. Now granted, it wasn’t totally disfiguring or limiting, but it was constantly held up as a burden of finances and time. There was no way I could make my eyes work together. I was wearing classes and patches when I was only two. I cringe when I look at pictures of me as a toddler and throughout school. In the days before lazars, I was a test case and experiment. The science was being perfected. At 48, I still have a horribly ‘lazy’ eye and no hope for improvement. I wish I could describe how frustrating it it at times to be talking directly to someone only to have them look over their shoulder in an attempt to see who I’m really looking at.

Then my parents had another child. Soon, not only was not the golden child, I wasn’t even cute. My little sister was born and she was perfect. Thick curly locks framed her cherub-like face and huge deeply perfect eyes.

The competition in our household was extreme. We competed most for our parents’ attention and the meager displays of affection. The relationships between us as adults continues to be strained. I think our parents meant to encourage us to be better, to do better, so there were often comparison statements made. They may have been effective in their immediate result, but the residual sucks.

Never feeling like I could measure up, I threw myself into perfecting my behavior. If what I was wasn’t good enough then perhaps I could find the approval I so naturally craved through recognition of what I did. I became a human doing. I applied this theory to my spiritual life as well as all other aspects of my person and my relationships. I constantly strived for recognition and approval, but rarely believed what I got.

There have been three key relationships in my life that were focused on proving the ‘love-ability’ of another person. Each one could have "destroyed" my facade of perfection. Each person keyed into my neediness and vulnerability. In each I allowed myself to be victimized, controlled, lost. I nearly killed myself with the last one. Looking back, I believe I did want something to die. And something did. I did.

It was through breaking that I finally was able to be whole. The amazing thing I am learning is that the wholeness has very little to do with the image I thought was so important. It isn’t about winning a competition. It isn’t about the praise and awards. It is about feeling good about me, overweight, crooked eye, popping jaw, thin hair, beat up car, unused degrees and all. It’s about knowing that right now I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing and being me–no more, no less.

I felt this other day very clearly when I was talking with the Lieutenant Governor and Mr. R. When Mr. R made comment again about getting me back into teaching. I said out loud (to my own amazement) that even if I could just teach part time, that would be more than I hoped to happen. Right now, I am very content with my job and see it as important work. The value might not be seen by others, but I saw Friday afternoon.

We are going to be starting a new procedure of stamping our parts with an identifying mark and date. The machine we use, if not used properly, could seriously injure a person. I wanted some input from my Team Leaders about who they saw as being the most qualified for the job. So, at the end of the day I pulled them in for a meeting, explained what I envisioned and invited their thoughts. Their eyes were big as saucers–someone wanted, requested and valued, their opinion. I knew the look, I knew the feeling, because not too long ago I felt it when I was told how much I was valued there.

As I sit here typing in my living room with Nelson asleep in the hospital bed across from me, my eyes are full of tears. I had been used to having my opinion sought. But I always assumed it was because of what I knew, what I did, and how I did it. It wasn’t until I lost all position and started over from the heap of brokenness that I began to realize that I don’t have it all looking put together to have value.

So I see my purpose not in keeping hearts from breaking, but in helping others start to see the beauty in the pieces that remain. I’m about rebuilding. I’m about seeing the possibility. It’s like creating mosaics: taking the pieces and making something beautiful.

I like the way the sounds. I like the fit on that. It’s a lot of who I am.

Guess Who I Met?

What a day I had!

The morning was spent working on the problem from yesterday morning. Faxes, researches, counting, contacting, talking, walking. Nothing has been determined, but at least I know where the MSDS sheets are stored.

Then right before lunch and for a while after lunch I had to do an extremely detailed inventory to accommodate a change in procedure. It never seems to fail, just when I think I have it all and put it down nice and neat, I remember something else and have to start over. I restarted 4 times, but it finally got done. Part of what took a chuck of time was that I created a new form to use for the process. It’s needed to be redone since I started, today I just bit the bullet and cranked one out.

In between all of that I generated all the labels and work orders for the current day’s packaging and tomorrow’s as well. I just love changing ribbons and rolls of labels. Have I ever mentioned how non-technological or mechanical I am? Machines have always intimidated me, but I am getting better. It’s funny because I’ve sort of convinced folks that I know what I’m doing. In the past this was a problem for me and resulted in my taking on too much. Now, I’m just learning how and getting better. And I am getting better–but I already said that.

Finally, at about 2:30pm I made it out to the floor to actually do some hands on work on the line. About the time that I had closed a couple dozen boxes Mr. R walked up to the line. He asked how long we’d be working. I told him until 3:30 and he smiled. Then he told me that Betty Montgomery was going to be coming by to check out our work program. We worked right up to 3:20. We no sooner started to close down and clean up when around the corner came our state’s Auditor. I spent about 15 minutes talking about the strengths and accomplishments of our program. Ms. Montgomery seemed very interested and was very easy to talk to. I think I did ok–sure helps that speaking and "selling" are strengths of mine.

At one point at the conversation Ms. Montgomery asked what I did three years ago. The question stunned me for a moment. Quick scan. What was she really asking? I stated that 4yrs ago I turned myself in for a crime, but that prior to that I had been a counselor and a pastor. I decided she wasn’t asking so much what had gotten me there, but what equipped me for the current position. By the way that the conversation went, I think I answered appropriately.

At this point, Mr. R told her that I was a “graduate” of the program. He went on to repeat his promise of getting me back to teaching. I was humbled again by his support. That wasn’t the first time this week he did that, though.

Last week when I saw my PO I asked again about the early release. She owned that due to busyness she hadn’t been able to work on it—I wasn’t surprised. She suggested that I get a couple letters of recommendation: someone from R Co. and Dan from T-Net. Mr. R had me read his prior to signing it. I nearly cried. I got Dan’s yesterday and was humbled all over again. I take the PO the letters today. Hopefully they’ll help.

So, as I sit at my computer this morning, I’m aware it’s going to be much colder and probably rainy, but I know nothing else much about the day. Surprisingly, I have a sense of peace. I’m learning the art of rolling with it—whatever “it” might be. Relinquishing control is hard…but I’m starting to enjoy the benefits.

May you know greater peace in your today.

Best and Worst

It was the best of times…it was the worst of times.
Of days that is.

Today started out rough. I thought I was going to lose 2 workers. Then just as we were getting things organized and started for the day, I was summoned to the far end of the plant where one of my workers was mixing the solution we use to treat our parts. Only he was using floor cleaning soap instead of a preservative. He’d been doing that for nearly a month. The guy who was supposed to show him what to do just told him to go do it and instead of asking more questions he just tried to figure it out on his own. I was mortified. I thought I was going to lose my job. I immediately wrote a corrective action procedure and will follow it up with training. I still get sick at my stomach thinking about it.

Then, if that wasn’t enough tension and stress, the rep from corporate offices, THE packaging specialist, came to spend the day. This was where the day turned surprisingly pleasant. I suggested to Ed that I take her for lunch. We went to the coolest restaurant in town. Cuisine. Fancy presentation. Amazing food. And someone else picked up the tab—doesn’t get much better than that!

But the food wasn’t the only cool part. I had been given the impression that this person was cold and aloof. We hit it off, shared really personal information, laughed and just plain got real. It was a tremendous lunch!

Then we went back to work and she gave me all kind of insight, pointers, and help. She listened to my questions and wrote down my concerns. I felt heard and helped—that was beyond priceless!

At the end of the day I attended a meeting. Again I felt heard and helped. It was valuable.

Then I went back to my office. I had so much to do. I could see at least an hour or two of work staring back at me. I turned off the light and went home. Nelson and I had Chinese. I went and did grocery shopping. We watched “Commander in Chief”—I’m liking it except for the million commercial interruptions. And now I’m going to bed. Tired but smiling. I’m actually looking forward to tomorrow. Maybe it’s because I haven’t stressed about it all evening.

It may have been a rough day, but it was a really good one too!

Weekend Ramblings

Such a lovely weekend I’ve had. Where to start?

On Thursday Beth met with the magistrate and was granted an emergency protection order. I’m so very proud of her. She has a court date next Friday. I plan to take off work and go with her and Nelson. To celebrate (or just enjoy a good meal) the three of us went to Red Lobster for dinner. I love their coconut shrimp–Yum!

I was going to be trained on a new machine/part at work so I went to work at 3am on Friday morning. Yawn! The machine was broken down so I did some other things and will learn later since I’ll be going in at 3am Saturday morning and working for 12 hours! That overtime will be a special blessing!

Since I got off early on Friday it feels like I’ve had a long luxurious weekend. I’ve done dishes, laundry and vacuuming, but outside the minimum workload, I’ve sat and soaked in massive quantities of baseball, football (College and Professional), and racing. It has been glorious! I enjoy it personally, but I treasure the fact that Nelson and I watch it together. Very special time indeed!

We ate out way too much this weekend. It’s bad for the cost and the waistline. But I think there was a smidgen of an ulterior motive on my part. Several of the outs got Nelson out as well. So he was up and getting some walking time in on that ankle. It may not have turned out to be a good thing as yesterday afternoon he started having flu-like symptoms.

Friday afternoon I got two new front tires on my car. I suggested we take it to Walmart, but Nel wanted to get tires to match the rear ones so he said to take it to the place where we got those. Unfortunately, they didn’t have matching tires, so again I recommended Walmart. Nel negated the idea sternly. It ended up costing so much more and he was in a money slump for quite a while on Saturday. Sigh. That may have played into my overeating as well.

While the car was being worked on I stopped at Goodwill—my favorite place to shop. And I got a really nice outfit: burgundy/plum pants and a paisley corduroy over shirt. I wore it to church on Sunday. Service was quite uplifting and I felt pretty. It was a good combo! My hair even turned out nice.

An aside: That was one of the points at which I linked with Anne Lamott in Traveling Mercies: her struggle with her hair. My struggles and frustrations are at the total other end of the spectrum, categorized by most under: What hair? It’s bone straight, baby fine, and extremely thin. Right now I am wearing it almost exactly the same way I did when I had my senior pictures taken—some 31years ago! It’s not about nostalgia, it’s just that’s really the way it looks best. Beth called it “old lady hair” because it’s so short. Maybe so, it’s just this way there are more good days than bad…sort of like Anne’s cornrows.

I was thinking a lot about perfection this weekend. Odd, since I was in such a relaxed state. I always wanted to be good at something. I didn’t care what so much. One of my blogging favs described herself as “10ft wide and a ½ in deep.” I can relate to that. I’m spread so thin searching for the one thing I might be good at. Trouble is/was I always wanted to be perfect, not just good. And I wanted it instantly. The one thing I was really told I was good at is public speaking—and I haven’t done that for well over a year. Perhaps this time was to be about maturing. Maybe I’ll get that back—hopefully, and how much better it will—I will be!

But today we will work on packing hubs in boxes, pray that the hubster gets better, and watch the daughter develop as a person and a mother. It’s early, but I think it’s going to be a very, very good day.

Friday Five

I've been reading the RevGalPals...and found this there...

The weather in your location: It’s a wonderful Fall afternoon. Temperature is about 65F (18.3333C). The leaves are in various stages of changing colors, which creates an absolutely tremendous palette.

Where you are typing this: I’m sitting in my favorite swivel rocker in the living room, typing on my new laptop. Hub is sleeping in the hospital bed across the room from me.

Where you might like to be sitting if you could be anywhere: At my older daughter’s house with my most precious granddaughter playing nearby!

A chore you have to do this weekend: moving the younger daughter’s packed up stuff to the attic–we had to make room for the influx of baby things–hard to believe she’s not due until January.

Something delightful you will do or would like to do this weekend: I’m going to church Sunday morning (second Sunday in a row!!!!). And I’m watching sports all day long!

No Matter What

The scripture prompt was:
(Meditation: Jeremiah 17:7-8)Blessed are those who trust in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD. The shall be like a tree planted by water sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit.

The written prayer was:
God, if today brings joy, I will rest in You. If today brings pain, I will rest in You. If today brings accomplishment and success, I will rest in You. If today brings set-back and failure, I will rest in You. If today brings vibrant good health, I will rest in You. If today brings sickness and death, I will rest in You. You are my rock and my salvation. Through Jesus Christ, my Lord. Amen.

Where it took me:
This reminded me of the "nevertheless" faith of the three Hebrews as they faced being thrown into the fiery furnace. And of Job who asked: shall we take the good and not the bad? No matter what. Come what may. Deeper, deeper though it cost hard trials.

When I was a counselor with kids, I often played the game Chutes and Ladders with them. Even with the older ones. The game teaches very well the concept of both negative and positive consequences. I used it also to talk with them about pushing on in spite of the negative. I needed the message as much as I shared it.

So today, no matter what! I WILL enjoy the people who cross my path. I WILL look for and expect the blessings of God to be present and for God’s presence to walk with me. And it will be a goodly day. Amen.

Lavished with Blessings

Blessed. That’s the only way to describe it. That’s totally how I feel, from the wee hairs on my head to the bottom of my toes!

We just got home from worship. And God being God, well I just got my socks blessed right off!

The music was completely uplifting. And it was so absolutely wonderful to sing out. I’ve embarrassed my children on more than one occasion because I am a loud singer when I get to praising. Fortunately, I am also a pretty good singer. I confess this morning, I just got lost in it!

The church has a ramp and an elevator. We used the ramp for Nelson today, but will try the elevator next Sunday. It just takes a lot of energy to hobble all the way from the car to the pew.

We had barely sat down when an older woman—mid to late 70’s walked over to us in the pew. She handed me a piece of cloth, but it was more than it appeared. She said that she had to use a walker a while back due to a broken leg and she started making these. It was/is a carrier thing to attach to Nelson’s walker. It has a large pouch on one side and a divided pouch on the other. It’s even sort of manly, in that it’s sage green and the ties and piping has mallard ducks on it. Another blessing.

We were greeted by several people that we knew and others who were just friendly. The atmosphere was very inviting and I felt comfortable. This was important to me. It’s very easy for me to slip into discomfort and shame mode. That didn’t happen.

Then Pastor brought the message. (Insert a big grin…you know the kind where you realize once again that God really is aware of your need). The text for the message was Mark 2:1-12. Pastor spoke about getting more than you expect, and more specifically on inner healing. I made a few notes, but mostly I listened…and heard….and was blessed.

I remember learning a Bible verse when I was in third grade. That would be nearly 40 years ago. I have treasured it, but no more so than today…with just a tad of adaptation: I was glad when they said unto me, it’s okay to go to the House of the Lord! Today, it was like coming home—which is absolutely one of my favorite biblical images and most powerful song expressions as well.

I can’t say it any clearer: I’m feeling totally, absolutely, and completely blessed.

And now I’m going to drive an hour and a half to have birthday lunch with my 23yr old (when did that happen?) daughter and nearly two year old granddaughter. Life is very, very good!

Joy Is Like the Rain

I was a Girl Scout. I started in 4th grade as a Junior Scout. I always felt like I missed out on something by not being a Brownie, but that was the way life seemed to go for me.

It was in Girl Scouts where I learned about my changing body and what it was going to be like when my “periods” started. It was in Girl Scouts where I learned to bake. It was in Girl Scouts where I was truly encouraged to sew.

I made some of my best friends in Girl Scouts. The leaders were so nurturing and supportive. The woman who I hold up as my model for life and love was a Girl Scout leader. Her name was Daisy.

I was in Girl Scouts until I was a junior in High School. I made First Class. My mom didn’t come to my First Class Ceremony because she had laundry to do. I believe that was the best demonstration of where I ranked as a child and quite possibly my greatest disappointment in life. (Mom and I have talked at length about how she regrets in those years that she made being a “wife” so much higher a priority than being “mom.” Understanding and forgiveness don’t always remove the sting—they just help us love in spite of it.)

This week I’ve had a song on my brain that I learned my very first year in Scouts. This would have been in 1966—and I still remember the tune and many of the words (though I was mixing the verses around). I went and googled the title and there it was. Here it is:Joy Is Like The Rain D Em A7 DI saw raindrops on my windowG Em A7 DJoy is like the rain.G DLaughter runs across my painA A7 D A7-BmSlips away and comes again.Em Em7 A7 DJoy is like the rain. I saw clouds upon a mountainJoy is like a cloud;Sometimes silver, sometimes gray,Alsways sun not far away.Joy is like a cloud. I saw Christ in wind and thunder,Joy is tried by storm.Christ asleep within my boat,whipped by wind, yet still afloat.Joy is tried by storm. I saw raindrops on my windowJoy is like the rain.Bit by bit the river grows,Till at once it overflows.Joy is like the rain. - From the album "Medical Missionary Sisters"released in the 1960's

As I’m sitting here writing there is a gentle rain falling outside. It seemed so appropriate!

Reading through the words got me to thinking about how it probably wouldn’t be a song that would be sung in Scouting now. It’s not very PC. And yet, for me it was so correct—then and now.

Today is the fourth anniversary of the when I turned myself in. Joy has been tried by storm….yet still afloat. Today is also the 28th anniversary of my first date with Nelson.

I was thinking about our 28 years together. It has had it share of rain. There have been storms. Sometimes the clouds are very, very thick. Sometimes I long for the simple laughter. Other days I couldn’t be more content.

The morning of our wedding (just 18mo after that first date) two guys called to try and talk me out of marrying Nelson. I had doubts and reservations. I was very unsure of this huge commitment I was making. I had no clue what life would hold. It was as if some unseen force was moving me through the whole process. I felt powerless to change the course of events as they were unfolding, and unsure if I really wanted to. One thing that I knew somewhere at the core of my being—it wasn’t a conscious thing, I don’t believe—was that I could count on Nelson no matter what.

And I was right.

Now, I confess, this has been a hard week. I think that I have been grieving my lost identity and career more than I have over the past 4 years. I have felt come out this week in an unsettled discontent. Honestly, it’s made it hard to empty Nelson’s pee bottle, hard to do all the dishes, laundry, and general cleaning.

Sometimes life is just like that. Laughter slips across my pain, slips away and comes again. It has…and it will!

So today I will cozy up. Spend some time remembering the years with my sweetie. And be thankful—for it all!

Fears

I finished “Traveling Mercies” last night. That was a good book. It felt sort of like I was reading someone’s blog or diary. It made me want to read more. It made me want to write more. It made me think.

So I went to the little book shelf in my room (where my devotionals and writing books are) and pulled my “The Playful Way to Serious Writing” book (by Roberta Allen) off the shelf and thumbed through its pages. This hasn’t been one of my favorite books, because its push has been toward more fictionalized writing (or that’s my perception).

It was sort of surprising when I landed on the following page: Think of five times in your life when you let fear stop you.

(Background to why this was so interesting to me. A couple days ago, Rev Mommy wrote about what are we afraid to talk about and that started a whole lot of thinking on my part about fear in general. Then tonight at a women’s Bible Study I attended [but probably won’t go back to] one of the questions the leader asked us was whether we were more motivated by love or fear? Then this page. I’m “afraid” that I’m supposed to be addressing my fears.)

…but back to the prompt…

1. (These are in no particular order of time sequence.) The first fear that jumped to my mind was when I was afraid to ask Nelson for the money to get my birth control prescription. Annie was only a few months old and it was time to start thinking about getting back on birth control. Money was so very tight right then. Asking for money has always been an issue for me. I reasoned in my head that it had taken so many years to get pregnant with Annie, surely I could miss a month and not worry. Surely, not. Annie was only 6mo old when I found out I was pregnant with Beth. One of the best mistakes I ever made.

2. I’m a good speaker and a good preacher. I participated in a preaching “contest” the last year of my M.Div program in Kansas City. My fear and lack of confidence caused me to doubt my ability and hold back—after all, why give 100% when it wouldn’t make a difference. Several people commented on how apparent it was that I shut down when I could have shone.

3. Fear of failure is a consistent—or was a consistent theme in my life before October 2001. The only way I knew not to fail was to just keep moving forward, take on more, and prove to everyone I was able to do it all. I lost all semblances of healthy boundaries. I really thought I could be all to everyone. My life was falling apart from the inside out and I was very close to committing suicide because I didn’t know how to stop the insanity. On October 8, 2001 I finally became so afraid of dying that I put an end (stopped) life as I knew and let the pieces fall. It turned out to be the hardest and best thing I ever did.

4. A friend of mine helped me get a job writing. She worked as an editor at a publishing company that was associated with educational materials. I contracted to write a teacher’s manual for a catechism course. I was really excited. I did a lot of research and work around the project, but fear of criticism, rejection, and the editor’s red pen kept from writing the necessary material. They released me from my contract.

5. One of the other questions the leader asked the group tonight (it was just an ice-breaker type game thing) was whether we were rebellious teens? I was quick to answer no. And the reason: fear. I absolutely totally feared disappointing my father. I never knew what it was like to truly sense his approval, so I’m not sure what I was actually working for, but I really, truly didn’t want to disappoint him. That probably wasn’t going to ever be possible since my very presence at birth initiated an endless string of disappointments: I was born a girl.


Now, let me rush in here to say: I’ve really worked hard on this issue. And I’m not nearly as fear-full as I used to be. I’m just very clear that this will be a life issue for me and I work on it day, by day, by day.

This Week

Tuesday:
Today the company we have our contract with came in for a meeting. I knew we were going to get dinged about how we weren’t keeping up with our five day turn around. So I went to the meeting with stats and data to make my point—heck, to make several points about what I needed to be able to do my job better. It showed some forethought. I made my point.

The real packaging specialist from the contract company came back with me to our area and gave me some one on one time—we discussed a lot of things. I was able to persuade her on one boxing issue. It was a huge improvement for us. I really, really appreciated her comments. I learned so much. It felt awesome.

At the end of the day, I was talking to Ed and B when Mr. R walked up. I thought he wanted to talk to them so I turned to go, but he told me to wait. When he was done talking to them he walked me to my office. He said he had heard that I had a college teaching position last year that was lost. I had only told Ed this. Mr. R reiterated his appreciation of my hard work. Then he told me that if I hang in there for a year, he would do whatever it takes to get me a teaching job at our local university or seminary where he’s on the board of trustees. I know that’s not always a given (after all, my therapist was on the board of the other university where I lost the other jobs). Even if nothing comes of it, I was just so absolutely touched that Mr. R would consider going to bat for me like that.

On the way home from work I remembered that I needed to stop and see my PO. Those who have been with me since last Fall may remember that one of the first things that my PO told me was that she would NEVER recommend an early release from probation for me. During our meeting we talked about her kids and my employees that are on probation/parole. Then she asked how long I had left. I reminded her that I was on paper until February 2007. I mentioned that I had thought about applying for an early release, but had heard that it cost a lot of money that I didn’t have. She said it should be no more than $100 or court costs. I asked how to go about it: should I contact the judge? She then said, "No. It just takes a recommendation from me. I’ll contact my supervisor and get things started." You could have knocked me off my chair with a feather. I was so excited I was ready to whoop!

Then when I got home my "new" laptop was here–finally. The screen is huge: I love that!!! The key action is nice too. The last two laptops that I’ve had were Gateways. This one is a Compaq Presario. Could the day get any better?

That’s a dangerous feeling for me...As soon as I realize that I’m feeling that feeling I start to get worried and start looking for the other shoe to drop. It’s not that I’m superstitious, I just don’t ever expect things to go well for very long.

When I turned it on there was a fine line down the right of the screen about two inches in. I was disappointed. Nelson asked how it was that EVERY time I turned on a computer I wrecked it? His words were like a sledge hammer upside my head. Now, I know that he doesn’t mean to be hurtful. I also know that he has no clue how his words affect me. I am also aware of how bored and testy he is from his forced confinement. I tried so hard not to take it on, but I failed miserably. When I went to bed I was sad, hurt, and sure that I wasn’t going to sleep.

Wednesday:
Nelson acted as if nothing had been said. In his mind there was no problem. It would do me no good to bring the incident up–it would be like rubbing a dog’s nose in three day old pee: totally ineffective. I tried to make him see how hurt I was, but I was too emotional. I hate that about myself.

Thursday:
I received another affirmation at work that my work was appreciated. It was a real pat on the back.

Friday:
D’s last day in our area. A couple weeks ago B took a goofy picture of D (she held a box lid over her face to avoid being photographed). For some reason she really liked the pic and wanted me to laminate it so it would be protected and preserved. Instead I bought a frame and had everyone sign it. I also bought a card and made a cake.

There was a real mixed feeling about D leaving. For me it’s hard. She’s been a friend and such an awesome worker. I am so ecstatic that she’s been hired on by the company, but I also felt terribly alone. I’m sure it’ll be ok, it’ll just take some time to adjust.

And now it’s Saturday. We followed up with the pastor twice to see if he called my PO, but haven’t heard back so it looks like church will have to wait another weekend. It would probably be ok, but trust me: I’m not taking any chances or doing anything that I’m not allowed. I may try and call my PO later to see...maybe.

Reflections on it all:
While I was talking with Mr. R, something was said that seemed to tie everything together here. Mr. R said something about how things work together. As soon as he said that I began to examine the cord linking life for me.

One of the things that occurred to me was the amazing way God uses events to get us where he wants us to be. Twenty six years ago, Nelson and I really felt like we should move to Ashland. We didn't understand why, so therefore after a very superficial examination of the situation we decided it probably wasn't the right move to make. And life went on the way it did. But here we are all these later in Ashland.

And I truly believe that God isn't done with me yet...and so now instead fearing the falling shoe, I feel a little more like an eager child just wondering what's coming around the corner--and like the child: trusting that it's going to be...gotta be good---because after all: it's coming from God who only has my best in mind.