To go, advance, proceed, travel, move along, progress.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

30 Days: Day 22- Executive Life Decisions


I've never been a drinker. I mean sure, maybe Bud Light at a party when I was young, but I can count on one hand the amount of times I have actually been legitimately intoxicated. Getting drunk, or high or whatever was just not my thing, even when I was doing everything else in my power to self destruct.

I just don't like being out of control. I like to know what I am doing. I thoroughly enjoy rational thinking (even when it is hard and it hurts). I don't want or need an excuse to get out of my head enough to say or do or be anything other than me.

Alcohol has been the leading cause of every problem I have had in my marriage. It is mainly for this reason, at this point in my life, I have an absolute distaste for it in general.

I am tired of being the DD. I am tired of making sure people are "okay". I am tired of watching folks act like complete dumb asses. I have no more patience for it. None.

Which is why I have recently made the executive life decision that I will no longer accept invitations to hang out at bars or any other place where the reason everyone is going is to drink. I will not go out with the intention of driving drunk people home, or babysitting them. I will politely decline anything that will place me in this sort of environment.

Will I go out for A drink with a friend? Sure. Will I perhaps have a glass of wine with dinner? Yes. But will I aid in the complete lack of self control and madness that follows in others? No.

This has been a long time coming. I have wanted to excuse myself from all of it for a long time. No one event or circumstance has brought me here, rather a lifetimes worth of them. I am 32. It's time to put myself first every now and then. 




Wednesday, February 25, 2015

30 Days: Day 21- 5 Things I Wish I Didn't Know

Sometimes ignorance is bliss. It's hard caring. It's hard having knowledge and feeling responsible for it. This should be short and sweet.

1. I wish I didn't know how bad everything we eat is. 
I wish I could ignorantly feed my children Fruit Loops and bologna sandwich's with a side of Cheetos and some refined processed sugar item for dessert and not know anything other than they were happy and full.

2. I wish I didn't know how bad medications are for you.
All of them. They are all bad. They band-aid problems and then cause more problems. I hate feeling guilty every time I take a Tylenol or legitimately need antibiotics because I know the little bit of help is hurting something else.

3. I wish I didn't know what beauty standards were.
I want to "F 'em" but it isn't that easy.

4. I wish I didn't know so explicitly what goodness was- who Jesus was.
We are responsible for what we know and if I didn't know what I do about the love of Christ I wouldn't be responsible for being loving when I didn't want to be. This one is sort of a double edged sword because I know being like Jesus is actually better for me and also shows others who He is, which is also something I want to do, but sometimes it's just really hard.

5. I wish I didn't know that our government is a disgusting, selfish, prideful display of money grubbing scumbags who only want what is best for themselves and will sacrifice anything to get whatever that is.
Yeah.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

30 Days: Day 20- Poem

I see you
Red lipstick
Trendy haircut
Sitting
Straight backed
In that polka dot dress
Matching heart shaped sun glasses
Propped casually on the table

Cheesecake in tiny bites
Coffee in tiny sips
Thumbs on phone
Looking busy
But
Sneaking glances

Desperately trying to project
Something

I am interesting
I am unique
I am different
And deep

And maybe
Maybe you are
But then
So am I
And she
And he
And we
Them

We are all stuck
Muddled
In the purgatory
Of being
One in a million
And
Just one of the millions
Exceptional
And yet
Not the least bit
Exceptional

And for all our grasping
At individuality
We never find ourselves far
From feeling
And doing
And being
So much like
Everyone else

I see me
Glossed lips
Striped shirt
Match purposfully
With red cropped pants
Sitting
Straight backed
Steve Madden bag
Flung on the table
Thumbs on phone
Looking busy
But
Sneaking glances

Desperately trying to project
Something

Monday, February 23, 2015

30 Days: Day 19- How I Met My Husband

I've mentioned before, numerous times, what a hot mess I was for approximately the first 20 years of my life. Here, you will see that full force, as I am going to relive meeting my now husband.

I was in the process of moving out of an apartment I had shared with a boyfriend for less than a year. I had been mostly faithful to him, never physically involving myself with anyone else, but certainly in some inappropriate relationships with boys amongst the interwebs/telephone. I mean, I HOPE they were boys. I had conversed at length with one boy in particular, who peeked my interest and who happened to live only a few hours south of me in Pensacola FL. I don't know how I had the time or money to do it, but I decided to take a trip down to meet him with a girlfriend and her guy friend, who I just knew as "that dude you're friends with".

Meeting people from online in real life, 5 plus driving hours away from home, where there is no true escape from said individual, went pretty much exactly as you may expect. Bad. Bad bad bad. The guy was really awkward in real life (go figure right), and expected way more from me than I was even on the cusp of willing to give. I don't remember much, other than constantly trying to avoid him touching me in any way. We were all staying at a hotel and I definitely made him go home come night night time.

So our last night there, this guy who I was visiting (whose name completely escapes me) says his friend is having a party at some hotel. We agree to go. I feel certain it must have been pretty lame, because I found myself standing outside the room smoking. It was here, in the dirty breezeway of some skeezy hotel in Pensacola FL, that my life would be forever changed.

As I stood smoking, looking cooler than ever I am sure, up walks this boy. He is wearing Dickie shorts, a plaid pearl-snap shirt, low top Chucks and a white bandana peeking out from underneath his side cocked black, flat brim baseball cap. He has a silver necklace whose pendant is the Cadillac emblem, and tattoos on his arms and legs. In his hand he holds an unnecessarily large Taco Bell cup. I would later find out that in the cup, was 80% Southern Comfort and 20% Dr. Pepper. I think it was not his first drink of the night.

So here in front of me stands this young, adorable, blue eyed punk-hop drunk boy. And he talks. And he talks and talks and talks. Turns out he had been ejected from the party he was attending for not being a Marine. He spent most of his words defending the coolness of the Navy, how (even though he had barely made it out of boot camp at this point), he spends all his time defending the country and should therefor be respected by, well, everyone. His duty never ends, he never clocks out, he is 24/7 on call for the sake of America. ('MURICA!) It's good America didn't need his service on this particular night, as I am certain he would have been of little use.

I'm not sure how we went from that to talking about anything else, but there was a moment in which he was showing me his tattoos and at the time most of them were Cadillac related. Everyone knows the Caddy is the staple car of all gangsters, particularly those residing in the dirty south, (two words I just so happened to have tattooed on my wrists). At the time, I was much more gangster than now, so the boy with the Cadillac tattoos, talking to me about the dirty south and looking like the lost member of Blink 182 was down right DREAMY.

From that conversation we ran off, down some other breezeway in order for me to escape the creeper online guy, and sat on a bench talking about what I am sure had no value at all because he was wasted and I was just gonna agree with anything he said because he was cute. Then he took me to the parking lot to show me his Cadillac. I don't actually like this particular make of car. I mean, yes, Cadillac's are important in the reppin of the dirty dirty, but the truth was they mostly just reminded me of someones Grandma. His was no different. It was huge and burnt orange and, no thanks.


And then we kissed. It was in a stairwell and it was terrible. Not any sort of first kiss from the movies, or that you dream of, or covet the memory of for years to come. It was aggressive and sloppy. So I gave him my number and he and his giant cup of liquor DROVE OFF back to BASE and to his barracks. I can't be sure, but I feel like while he was drunk driving back to government property he may have called me. Making sure the number worked.

I went home and talked to him constantly through out the week. He didn't remember what I looked like or much of anything from that night, but my shining personality was enough to keep him interested until the next weekend when he came to visit. He brought 2 friends, in case I was ugly and he needed an excuse to bail. Obviously, I was absolutely DARLING and such a total catch that he decided to stay. We spent the weekend at the Days Inn with his shipmates and 2 of my friends. I probably got pregnant sometime in that 48 hours. I was real classy.




Before he headed out he wrote something nice, and I am sure terribly romantic for me on one of the empty OE bottles from the weekend. How lucky was I?

The rest is history. We made the baby and got hitched. Then lived through absolute hell on earth for awhile. Split up. Got back together. Therapy. Made another baby. Had some awesome years. Lived through more hell. Therapy. Bought a house. Bout to move to our 3rd duty station in 11 years. Wash, rinse repeat. Life is good. Even when it's bad, it's good. Because Jesus and because work.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

30 Days: Day 18- Where Have You Felt Out of Place


The blog prompt generator is getting weak. I think I have used all its creative juices and I have had to scour the interwebs for other prompt sites. Most of them suck so I feel like its slim pickins for topics that I feel good about.

Today the winner is, "Tell about a time when you felt out of place."

I have felt out of place a lot, but there is nothing that makes me feel so uncomfortable as I do anytime I am present at a military function or even just on government property.

When I met Travis he was fresh out of boot camp. This quality was "hot", not only because it meant he had like, a real job, but also because uniforms. I feel like I didn't think too much about it other than it meant I only saw him on weekends because he was stationed 5 hours away. Then we made a baby and I married him and even at that point, he was a SLACK ASS sailor, so his career choice really didn't effect me other than it was a paycheck that supported us both, awesome. All of this to say, it took a deployment or 5 and him tightening up his sailor game for me to really feel the effects of being a military wife. In fact, because it is all I have known as a wife it feels very natural and it is always odd when people make a big to do about it.

Anyways all of that to say, we are 12 years in this military family game and yet anytime I have to be on base or at a function, be it the commissary, doctor, a command BBQ, a Christmas party, a quick lunch delivery- whatever, I AM SO UNCOMFORTABLE there. I feel like I am on another planet full of people in matching outfits who have their own language and belief system. Weird alien people who are all working together like cogs in a clock and I am an unwanted interference. Even at "fun" functions where everyone is wearing clothes of their choice, I feel so incredibly out of place.

I think part of it is that what Travis does at work is separate from our life. I understand his literal job, and we talk about happenings at work, but really it is the only part of his life in which I am naturally excluded. Not only that, but it isn't just some desk job, it's a job where he potentially spends 6 plus months away from me and with those people. And who he is there, I know, is at least a little different from who he is at home. So maybe a part of it is that I feel like military personnel are all in a club that I don't get to be in and that I will never understand. Furthermore I stay home, so I don't have a piece of life separate from him and the kids which makes it harder to feel out the part of his life that is. 

But even the other places. The doctor and grocery store that are full of other spouses- I don't even like those. I could never join any form of military wives anything because it all just feels so wrong to me.
I don't know why, it always has and I am okay with that. Till I have to participate in it, then I'm like a brace faced 6th grade boy at a school dance trying to talk to the girl he likes. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Probably over compensating.


Monday, February 16, 2015

30 Days: Day 17- Something I Am Learning


 I could write a ton of different things here. I could write about parenting and how hard it is and all the things my kids are teaching me about myself or how I have no idea what I am doing most of the time. I could write about marriage and how hard that is and how my husband is constantly teaching me about myself and how I have no idea what I am doing most of the time. I could write about the fact that I am about to be homeschooling for 3 months and all that I am learning as I gather all the stuff I need to do it. I am always learning.

But right now, for this blog, I am going to write about something I feel like God has been showing me, learning me, over some time now. I haven't arrived in this area. I don't understand it all. I don't have answers and I am still working through it. Luckily, God is patient. That to say, if I say something here that doesn't sound right, forgive me- learning. This is not an advice blog, this is just me working something out with Jesus and giving you a sneak peek.

It started with a book. The book is called "My Name is Hope", written by John Comer. I read it around this time last year, right as I was coming off meds. It came by way of Amazon, purchased for me by a friend who knew I was struggling. The book is written by a Pastor guy who struggled with anxiety and depression, and is intended to give hope outside of medication for others. This book changed my life. I took a lot from it, but more than anything I came to the conclusion that anxiety is the consequence of idolatry. If you believe that God is above all things, with your best interest at heart all the time, no matter what, and that faith/trust is the center of your life, you cannot worry because worry would mean you aren't actually trusting God. Worry means your faith is in other things.

So I started thinking about what I have made an idol of that keeps me anxious. Like most Americans, the biggest one is safety. I want to be safe. I want good health. I want to avoid suffering at all costs. Furthermore, I want my kids to have those same things. Don't get me wrong, it is totally okay and completely normal to desire the best life possible for you and yours.

However (and here is the learning curve)....

The only thing that is actually best for you and everyone else, is the advancement of God's Kingdom. That means, more people coming to know Jesus and having the option of eternal relationship with God. This means that GOD is the ONLY THING that matters. And if that is true, everything we care about- kids, spouses, family, friends- are just a bonus.

They are simply gifts, from a Giver.

I think more often than not we turn the gifts into idols, rather than idolizing the Giver and His ability to give them.

I think we decide what we think is "bad" not based on trusting in the Giver and His ultimate plans, but based on what is hard, and what hurts. Then, sometimes, we blame the Giver for all the hurt and the hard stuff, forgetting that He was the one who gave anything we had to lose or struggle with to begin with. 

To be less abstract, God has brought into my life via different forms of media over the past year, a handful of people who were in the process of or have lost a child (worth mentioning- all of the people I will speak about are Jesus followers). Now I must preface all this by saying there was a time a few years back when I would have told you that if I lost one of my children I don't know where that would leave me with God. I would have admitted that such a circumstance, (the worst I can possibly imagine), would absolutely make me question any sort of "divine plan". Because children dying is not fair. It has to be hands down one of the worst things to occur on the planet and I just didn't have faith that I could process such a thing in conjunction with a loving God.

So I have watched these strangers, on Instagram, on Facebook. I have watched them lose what I imagine all of us struggle not to make an idol of- our children. I have watched consequently, the out pouring of love for these people. I have watched them hurt and be angry and then hurt again and then have a good day, rinse and repeat over and over for a year. And, I have watched their grieving open the door for others who have been in similar positions to grow and to grieve perhaps better than they were or not feel so alone. I have watched the death of a child not only grow the souls of their parents, but also help and grow all the souls watching from afar. I have watched God take the worst, most "bad", hardest thing I can imagine and grow it into something that advances His Kingdom. Something that shows others His face. His love. His grace. His availability.

I mean, we are talking about the guy who sacrificed HIS son for the sake of all the dirty, no good, lying, cheating, wife beating, murdering, drunken, sexually perverse, thieving humans from Jesus' death till he shows back up on earth. His ability to use the death of a child for the good of something really shouldn't come as such a surprise.

Here is what I am getting at. God is ALL GOOD. He can't do bad, it's impossible. Cancer is bad. Childhood cancer is worse. Babies falling asleep and never waking up for no apparent reason is torture. It is awful and I don't mean to take away from that. But death is a part of life no matter how old we are. Losing things is a part of living be it death or the end of a relationship or a home or whatever. The key to dealing with it, coming out the other side well, is KNOWING that God really is STILL GOOD despite EVERYTHING. And that GOOD doesn't mean making sense. GOOD doesn't mean us getting what we think we need and want. GOOD isn't everyone we love never suffering. GOOD IN THIS CONTEXT ONLY MEANS GOD WORKING FOR HIMSELF WHICH INEVITABLY MEANS ALL OF US. People we know and don't know. People across the whole planet. All the things, the births the deaths the losses the wins- they have a ripple effect and God USES that.

I used to think nothing "bad" was God's will. It couldn't be because God is all good. And then in the midst of this- what has been a year long learning curve, I came to a scripture I have read a gazillion times. Matt 10:28 says, "Aren’t sparrows sold for next to nothing, two for an penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father’s consent." CONSENT. That means He said "Okay. Fall." That means He not only knows, but He consented for even the things we consider to be "bad". 

What is to be learned then, is that bad is not bad at all. If it happened it is because He consented, which means there is an amazing good to be found in whatever it is. Maybe we won't see it this side of eternity. We aren't supposed to know everything. We aren't supposed to have all the answers. We are only supposed to BELIEVE that God is who He says He is- which is a GOOD GOD WHO LOVES US. And if we can get to a place where that really is more true than anything else, perhaps our definition of "bad" will change also. We are so linear. So stuck in time. God is just so not, and it makes it impossible for us to grasp SO MUCH. That too, has to be okay.

End note: In the beginning God created us to live eternally in relationship with Him. It was the bad decisions of humans that altered this reality- that opened our eyes to death. God knew that would happen, but that doesn't mean he made it happen. The fact that it DID happen means we live in a broken world. God will make the best of this brokenness if we let Him. He is always willing to work with whats broken. All that to say- don't take from this blog "God gives babies cancer so they die and He can do something with it." NO. Not what I am saying. God doesn't give babies cancer, this broken place and all our bad decisions from beginning of time to now gives babies cancer. God simply works within the broken lives we lead in order to make it the best it can be- which this side of eternity will still be broken. The only time we will see and experience true WHOLENESS will be in heaven. 

End note II: Don't forget I said I was learning and maybe, for all my theologian friends reading (HA), there are things here that don't line up. I am okay with that. God is giving me little bits at a time and I don't have anything resembling a pulpit so no need to be worried I am preaching some sort of false gospel.


Sunday, February 15, 2015

30 Days: Day 16- Where I Grew Up

I am so excited about this prompt for a few reasons. The first is that just over a year ago, my Nanny passed away. It was in her house that I grew up, and the summer before she died, when I knew she didn't have much time, I made it a point to take pictures of her house, my house, and all the things I never wanted to forget. All the things that represented my childhood. Like most old people, not much changed in Nannies house over the years, so the pictures that you find here will be pretty much what I grew up in. After her death the house was sold and is currently begin renovated. I haven't looked through any of these images since her death and the sale of the house so I am pretty excited to take a brief trip down memory lane. The second reason I am excited about this blog is because a portion of it will explain a little about me in conjunction with what used to be one of my most favorite places on the planet.

When my parents split at 2, I was already in a home daycare with a woman named Kathryn Brookshire (Nanny). She had been taking care of me since I was an infant and just happened to own a duplex in Candler Park, a pretty well to do area in the city of Atlanta. The house was built in the early 1900s and she purchased it in the early 50s for what is chump change now. When my mom and dad divorced, she opened up the other side of her home to my mom and I. Because my mom worked full time I spent most of my childhood on Nannies side, which is represented in the photos.

Welcome to 445 Oakdale RD.


 


 So many of my childhood memories are found on this front porch. From being a little girl sitting with Nanny and playing a game where we tried to guess the color of the next car coming by, or being a grown up with my own kids and her sitting waiting for us to arrive on it. The porch furniture never changed between to the two, and no matter what major renovation changes were happening to the houses around hers, the view was always close to my heart.


Nannies spot. The chair itself changed over the years, as well as the contents of the little stand, but if we were in the living room, Nanny was sitting here. Maybe she was watching Days of Our Lives, or golf. Maybe she was doing a crossword puzzle. Maybe she was sneaking a sweet treat from a drug store bag hidden beside the chair.


Slip and slide and splinters- all experienced on this floor, from my little feet to my kids little feet. Everything from the outward aesthetics of this house, to the closed room inside layout has completely shaped what I want in a home. It's crazy how something so material can shape your taste. When we bought our house recently my only real deal breaker was a front porch. If it didn't have that porch I didn't want it.




Here are just a few of the original to the house things I will always love. The best light fixtures, door knobs, mantel details, and light switches. I didn't want to bore you, but there is way more of these cool shots of random original hardware.



So that is a new stove- kitchen appliances don't last forever when you cook as much as Nanny, but those cast iron pans are the same ones she cooked cornbread in before I was even old enough to ingest it. And you can bet that little chrome pot is full of bacon fat. The curtains may have changed, but I have pictures of myself and both my babies having baths in that sink.


When you wash your hands in this bathroom, you must chose really cold or really hot. Unless you wanna use that amazing rubber plug and fill the sink for a middle ground.

There you have it. A little taste of what will ALWAYS be home to me. It was this house in this neighborhood, where I could walk a block to my best friends house, or another block in the other direction to see other friends, that has absolutely convinced me that the streets of Atlanta are paved in gold. I know it's all nostalgia but the force is strong in this one.

Now, the other part of this blog is that this house, 445 Oakdale, was located a couple blocks away from what in the 80's and 90's was Atlanta's punk rock, misfit mecca. This place, Little Five Points, was about 10 blocks of pierced, tattooed, dirty colored mohawk, drunken teenage squatter types. There are stores and restaurants lining the streets and in its heyday seemed like something out of the wrong side of the tracks from Pretty in Pink. The stores sold clothes and gifts and housewares that before the internet and Hot Topic you wouldn't find anywhere else and the people that worked there were covered in tattoos way before they were mainstream enough to no be blatantly stared at. On the weekends crazy religious folks would come and yell through mega phones about how Satan was present there. Meanwhile the orange robed Hare Krinshnas lovingly handed out pamphlets.

And from a very young age, I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT THERE. I loved the people and how they looked, I loved the stores and the weird crap they had. I loved sitting inside Zesto's with my soft serve and people watching or going with Nanny to pick up her medications at Ira's Drugstore where there was an old school fountain bar in the back. And I never stopped loving it there. Even when I moved to the burbs as a teenager I made it a point to get there every time I saw Nanny, and when I moved back at around 18 I got a job at Little Five Points Pizza where I slang slices.






The past few years when I have gone home, Little Five Points is but a shell of its former self. The streets are empty, even concerning the homeless population. Some of the same places are there, but most of them have closed up shop and been replaced with much less cool counterparts. There is even an American Apparel down there now, and if THAT doesn't represent the mainstreamness of the current situation I don't know what would. I do still go though. When I am home I always go back and walk through the cool shops that are still there, and even some of the not so cool new ones.

I am pretty sure if I hadn't been exposed to the sort of place Little Five was as a kid and teenager it is quite possible I would have much less colorful skin, fewer scars on my face and perhaps lamer taste in music.

So there you have it. That's where I come from.


Friday, February 13, 2015

30 Days: Day 15- Something Controversial.


 No really, that is a REAL Blog Prompt Generator topic.

Since it's relevant, (and I have already written a blog about vaccines, which you can find here), I am gonna take my 2 cents about Fifty Shades of Grey and place them here.

I have not read Shades of Gray, nor have I watched trailers, nor have have I peeked curiously at all the merchandise end caps. All I know about it has come from different blog posts and conversations I have read/heard. I know it is about some chick who gets involved with an aggressive, BDSM guy who wears well tailored suits. My understanding is that he takes what he wants and she lets him.


First off, I did not read the book, because as a Jesus follower I just didn't think it was something that I needed to mentally ingest. Here are some reasons why:

1. I worked at a porn store for a time. I already have enough terrible, disgusting, degrading imagery burned into my grey matter. As far as I am concerned, this story is just socially acceptable housewife porn and porn in any capacity utterly grosses me out. It is worth mentioning, I am not cool with my husband viewing porn, so it would be hypocritical for me to read it. Porn is porn.

2. I don't need anything to make me feel like whatever I have going on with my husband in our bedroom isn't enough. I am enough. He is enough. If we wanna get a new kind of freaky, we don't need fictional prompting.

3. If Jesus came back and I was on my couch reading Fifty Shades of Grey I would be completely humiliated. "Oh hi Jesus, you're back! Have you heard of bondage, domination, sadism or masochism?"

There is nothing good in this book. There is nothing that will build me, lift me, breath life into me or even prompt critical thinking. It is simply another something to not only distract me from what matters, but perhaps cause me to be non complacent with the relationship I do have, and prompt me to lust for other things/people/etc. God says in Philippians 4:8, "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." I may be wrong, but I am fairly certain none of these things are gonna be popping off the pages of Fifty Shades of Grey.

God also says in Proverbs 4:23, "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." Now, Biblically speaking this isn't talking about your heart as the anatomical thing beating in your chest. This isn't "Guard your heart because heart disease is a real killer". This is also not "Guard your heart from all those meanie opposite sex types who might break it." In this context the "heart" is the seat of the bodies intellect or moral functioning. So what is being said is basically, "Guard where your thoughts are. Guard what goes in because that stuff penetrates your thinking. How you act and feel and what you do will be effected by what gets in there." 

And there in lies the issue.

You cannot be uneffected by what you spend your time doing. Reading, watching, listening to, talking about. It is all going in and it is shaping how you think and feel. It isn't just Fifty Shades of Grey. It's cable television. It's music. It's any number of romantic novels written to mentally whisk women away from a dull marriage, >insert image of Fabio here<. And sometimes it is SO innocent. Do you know how many women watched the Notebook and left fantasizing about something other than what they had? You can't escape it really. Unless you swear off everything pop culture, and good luck getting away from it unless you plan on moving to a third world country sometime in the near future. 

We are all guilty of escapism and sometimes it really is harmless. But we need to recognize when it isn't. We need to listen to the still small voice instead of all the booming ones coming from radio and TV and friends and coworkers. To be really real for a moment, I am always particularly convicted about overtly sexual stuff because of my history and because lust is a huge struggle for me. I KNOW this about myself and I make choices accordingly. So I ask you:

What are your convictions and are you heeding them or drowning them out because they don't fit pop culture?

If you've stuck this out- awesome I know it has been a little all over the place. I will leave you with this:

1. If you read the book and plan on seeing the movie- whatev. What you do is between you and Jesus and I ain't got no kinda time to worry bout it because I got my own crap to take up with that guy. So, no judgement.

2. What consenting adults do in the privacy of their bedrooms is their business. Chips dips chains whips- consensual is consensual no matter how freaky you or I might find it to be. So, no judgement. 

3. Jesus loves you despite your book or bedroom choices. So, no judgement.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

30 Days: Day 14- Why I Get Down With Jesus.


 I didn't grow up in church. I guess I was there a lot before my parents divorce at the ripe old age of 2. My dad was a leader, on his way to being a pastor, and then their pesky divorce got in the way. When my dad came out and the split happened, all of their friends, some of whom were more like family, completely turned their backs. Both of my parents ended up incredibly wounded. My dad didn't go back until I was in the 8th grade, my mom sometime during my high school years. That to say, I didn't have anything indoctrinated in me from a young age. I have no experience with felt board Bible stories. I didn't take up my cross because my parents told me so.

When my dad started attending church again he went on Wednesday nights, which was also when youth group was held. I don't remember if I got invited and then my dad ended up coming or if my dad went and I then I did. Chicken meet egg meet pre-dementia brain. All I know is that in the 8th grade I started attending church, more specifically the Upper Room youth group. I am not sure what I did or didn't know about God or Jesus at this point. I know my parents talked to me about it but I was already on the wrong path so to speak, so I certainly didn't have much real knowledge or understanding.

This particular youth group was pretty charismatic. Okay, really charismatic. It was a hands up, prayer language, spirit led environment and the kids there were completely sold out for Jesus. The youth pastor was this big, jolly white dude with this adorable petite wife, both of whom had infectious smiles and were quick to show affection. There may have been a mullet involved, but it was the 90s so no harm no foul.

I don't remember the moment, or even the particular night I responded to the salvation alter call. I don't have a specific memory of the instance in which I gave my life to Jesus. What I do know is that during the 6 or so months I spent at the Upper Room, I experienced God in the most tangible way I ever have to date. There has been but a few church experiences since then in which I have literally, heavily, inexplicably felt the presence of God the way I did there. Now, this is not to say churches now aren't doing it right, or I am missing it, or whatever else may come to your head when you try and wrap it around why I would have felt God so intensely in that place and then never again in quite the same way. What my feeble, insignificant, unable to grasp the greatness of God mind THINKS might be the semi answer to that is this:

God knew my beginning from my end. He knew where I came from and where I was going and He knew that in order for me to maintain/come back to relationship with Him, I needed that super intense, extremely tangible experience. Because, I cannot deny what that was. I cannot deny the weight of the Holy Spirit in the room so heavy you can hardly stand. I cannot pretend that never occurred and just move on to something else forever.

Because I did move on to something else. It was called High School. I traded Jars of Clay for Nine Inch Nails and wrote things like "God is dead" on the bleachers during gym class. I become as self destructive as I could figure out how to be and was enraged with my mother anytime she tried to tell me that her prayers would be honored and I would come full circle. I went back to that church every now and then, but only if I had on extra eyeliner and a Marilyn Manson shirt. I don't think I was pissed at God, I think I just lost Him somewhere in the mix of trying to find myself.

I stayed lost for all of my teenage years. Maybe I got mad at God about stuff, maybe I just figured if He couldn't show up when I thought I needed Him most He wasn't worth looking for. Maybe I was just too caught up in myself to even care. I think I started going to a service every now and again when I was 19. My mom had some close Christian friends at that point, who had kids who I hung out with sometimes. I was still a total loose cannon, but I sort of found myself wanting a Bible and reading it here and there, as well as going to some Bible studies with those other kids I knew. It was nothing major but certainly a step up from the "God is dead", permanent marker phase.

And then I got knocked up. And then I married the guy. And if I thought my life had been a hot mess before I was sorely mistaken. We were both so crazy. Mentally unstable by any definition of the term. His mentally unstable only served to make my mentally unstable even worse. There was a lot of alcohol and yelling and at about 6 months pregnant sitting at my kitchen table drawing, in my ghetto apartment in Florida, I casually breathed something along the lines of, "Help. I can't do this. I can't be a wife and a mom. I don't know how to make this work. I have no idea what I am doing. I need You."

And wouldn't you know, He just started showing up. I found a church, I got involved and pretty soon that lost little girl wasn't so lost anymore. It was strange how quickly I changed once I made the decision to move away from myself, away from my circumstances, and closer to Him. Don't get me wrong- it wasn't like life just drastically improved and I was worlds greatest mom and wife. There was A LOT of hardship to come, including a split from my husband for about half a year. But I just kept pushing and trusting God and He just kept showing up. Feelings and emotions that would have eaten me alive, didn't. Circumstances that would have broken me, didn't. I had joy and fun when I should have been feeling and having anything but.

And it hasn't stopped. I just keep growing and changing and despite whats happening or how I feel, I am okay. I am more than okay. I am triumphant. 

I don't follow Jesus because He gives me a happy, hurt free life. I don't follow Him because I don't want death to be the end. I don't follow Him because it makes me better and wiser and holier than you. I don't follow Him because it is easy. I don't follow Him because it is what I have always done or what someone told me I should do.

I follow him because I have seen Him work in my life. Things are and be and do that don't make any sense apart from Him. I follow Him because I have felt His presence, heavy like weights on my person. I follow Him because it makes me a more loving, selfless human. I follow Him because who could turn down the gift of a relationship with the Creator of the whole universe? I follow Him because although I see truth in many things, it all stems back to Him. I follow Him because frankly, I am a disaster without Him. I follow Him because He loved me, even when I wrote about how he was dead on the bleachers.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

30 Days: Day 13- Regret



The Blog Prompt Generator is not giving me what I want, so today I am going to follow in the footsteps of one of my best friends and write about regret. (Her blog can be found here.)

She started out talking about how much she dislikes when people say "I have no regrets." My thoughts echo this sentiment, as I cannot IMAGINE having a lived in such a way that leaves no room for regret. I understand the thought concept of, "I don't regret because everything I have done has made my life what it is now". To me all that means is that God has been able to take my bad decisions and make them beautiful, however it does not mean that I haven't made choices I would advise others against.

Despite having made a TON of bad decisions in my life, decisions which have caused pain and heartache and trouble- I can't say I "regret" some of them. I don't regret getting married at 20 to a man I didn't know. I would advise against it, adamantly, but some of the best things in my life have come out of that terrible decision- this is what I mean when I say God can make bad good as long as you are a willing participant. I don't regret losing my 20's to a toddler, but I wouldn't recommend it. I don't regret signing into the military lifestyle completely unaware of what that would actually look like, but I would strongly advise others to seriously consider ALL the pros and cons before doing it. You see what I am getting at here? The difference between regret and "but I wouldn't if I were you"?

I REGRET not telling my parents about abuse I suffered as a child- while I was still a child. I feel pretty certain I don't need to elaborate here. Things could have looked very differently for me if anyone knew I needed to be removed from a situation whose lifelong effects would weave themselves into the fiber of my being.

I REGRET dropping out of high school. I never applied myself, I never cared, I scarcely showed up to even attempt participation. The not being present and finishing high school really diminished my confidence for a long time. It took me till my mid twenties to even gather the strength to attempt my GED and another 5 years to become confident enough to enroll in college. Be cool, stay in school.

I REGRET staying in numerous unhealthy relationships. I had so many issues and it is what it is, but I certainly COULD have chosen to listen to smart people, namely my parents, and made better decisions about the people I let in my life.

I think those are the only 3 actual go back and redo type regrets I can think of for now. If the blog was about things I have done that you shouldn't- I would be here for days.

It is also worth mentioning here that as much as I dislike people saying they have no regrets, I dislike even more "Everything happens for a reason." Why? Because the reason most things happen is that humans are idiots. Just because God sees your beginning from your end doesn't mean He purposed all your dumb decisions and the consequences that would follow. And while we are talking about it "God doesn't give you anything more than you can handle" also makes my skin crawl. God allows us more than we can handle ALL THE TIME, because we are supposed to be leaning on HIM. Having more than we can handle pushes us towards the only being who can not only handle the worst, but bring us through it triumphantly. AND FURTHERMORE babies don't die because God needs angels. STOP IT.

>Dismounts Soapbox<

Monday, February 9, 2015

30 Days: Day 12- Would You Rather Be Rich Or Poor?



This seems like a super easy question. Too easy. Like, why would anyone even bother to ask that dumb question, easy.

Rich is the obvious answer.

Rich allows me to pay off my debt and own things outright. Rich gives me the opportunity to walk into any store and simply purchase what I want with out even looking at a price tag. Rich is, even to those of us who may know better, an open gate towards happy. I think most of us can say we know that rich doesn't equal happy, but we still have a hard time believing that it wouldn't at least up our chances to get to happy.

No one in their right mind would CHOSE to be poor.

Poverty is ugly and I am not even talking about REAL poverty- third world, emaciated, disease ridden, orphan making poverty. Just to be poor in America is really unattractive. The poverty cycle is real and so many people don't even have the opportunity to get their feet off the ground because of it. Poor means dinner out of cans and long waits on the phone to speak to government assistance officials who will only transfer you or tell you you have to come in or that they can't help at all. Poor means maybe your lights will be on and maybe they won't. Clearly, there is no WAY any of this could open that gate to the being happy thing.

So to recap, I have stated that money at least allows the opportunity to get at happiness, while poverty couldn't possibly.

I don't actually believe either of those things.

If I am honest- of course money sounds nice, but not because I want all the things. Mostly I like the idea of money because I love giving money away. I wish I had lots of it so I could afford to be more generous than I already am. The flip side of that though, is that I do not want the responsibility of managing money. I do not want to have to make grown up educated decisions about where to put it to grow it or how much to save or how much my kids will need one day. And quite honestly a large part of me doesn't even think that I should have to think that way. If God says He has got my back, especially if I give, and also that whoever gives to the least of us is actually giving to Him- why must I be so savvy about storing up anything here on earth? Cause, my kids need to go to college and what if my car breaks down and yadayadayada, but as I stated, IF GOD SAYS HE HAS GOT MY BACK.....it's all very complicated. Maybe, not really. We make it complicated. It is because of all of this complication that more money is unappealing to me- unless I really can just give it away.

Sometimes I DO wish I could just sell all our crap and have cellphone, laptop, TV smashing parties and move to Africa to love on orphans. There is definite appeal in the having of nothing to me also. I know myself and my family would learn so much more about Jesus if we had nothing but gave everything in a place completely removed from America. I know that life would be so much more fulfilling in the way of soul growth. I am pretty sure God put a dash of missionary in my recipe and I do believe that me and my kids will get to experience more of that in the foreseeable future.

So, to answer the question, I don't want either. I just want to learn to be completely, unquestionably thankful for exactly what I have and where I am at. I want to learn happiness and fulfillment in Christ alone rather than stuff- or even people.  The 1% or the 99%, we are all both better or worse off than someone else and should be able to find thanks in whatever little or much that has been entrusted to us.


Saturday, February 7, 2015

30 Days: Day 11- Five Things That Bring Me Joy

1. The Trinity

With every passing year as I continue to grow in relationship with God, I realize more and more that the only place I can depend on finding consistent happiness is in Him. There is no amount of positive energy, self sufficiency or good overall circumstance that will meet my needs in terms of being joyful. Despite their awesomeness I cannot count on my husband, kids, friends etc to make me or keep me happy. Everything in this world is so extraordinarily temporary that to depend on any of it for joy is like failing before you even begin. On the contrary, if you know that ultimately all the good things come from God anyhow, you can learn to find your joy in the Giver rather than the gifts. 

(Don't get me wrong, I have not arrived in this department, but I'm baby stepping it.)

2. Family

I have awesome family members. From my husband to my kids to my mom and dad and sister and step parents and even my in laws- I lucked out. We have lived away from everyone for too long, but even with distance between us, everyone has worked to not only maintain but also build relationships. I am so blessed to have so many people in my life who I know are on my side no matter what. 

3. Friends

I have awesome taste in people who also have awesome taste in people. I have a handful of the most amazing girlfriends I could ever ask for. Women who I can be wholly me with. Women who on my worst day would have nothing but encouraging and uplifting things to say to me- reminding me of who I am at my best. Women who when life gets in the way and we don't speak for months on end are nothing but excited when I finally make time to call. I had some pretty dysfunctional relationships with other females as a teenager so to have the opportunity to cultivate amazing relationships as an adult is a real blessing. 

4. Creation

I LOVE looking at all the things God so creatively fashioned for this planet. My favorite are the smallest things, from insects to flowers to all the strange little creatures roaming the deep. I really love butterflies and other bugs because the intricate nature of such tiny, seemingly unnecessary things blows my mind. It's why I collect taxidermied bugs- so I can look at them all in real life whenever I want. It is also why I love the zoo and aquariums and also examining road kill. I know it seems morbid but dead things let you get really close to them and up close you see more clearly.

5. Listening and Encouraging

I am naturally good at this. God fashioned me to be a psychology major. I greatly enjoy listening to people's stories and reminding them not only of who God (whether I word it that way or not) says they are, but also offering advice in order that they might live that out. I am so interested in you.   

Friday, February 6, 2015

30 Days: Day 10: Cast the Movie of Your Life


Me- Winona Ryder

Travis- Seth Rogen



Jesiah- Ed Oxenbould (as seen in Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day)

Presley- Francesca Capaldi (as seen in Dog With A Blog)




Mom- Sally Field

Dad- Kevin Spacey

Nanny- Betty White

Stepdad (Moms husband)- Chevy Chase

Stepdad (Dads partner)- Alec Baldwin



Sister- As herself, because look at her





Thursday, February 5, 2015

30 Days: Day 9- Something That Overwhelms Me



Food. Food completely overwhelms me.

Many of you know portions, pieces or the whole of my life story concerning food. The fact that there is a story at all speaks volumes.

I grew up spending the majority of my time with my Nanny, a woman born on a dirt road in Tucker Ga, whose small amount of travels never placed her too far from home. All the things you stereotypically imagine about southern food and cooking is what I grew up eating. She literally had enormous containers of lard, and jars full of saved bacon fat. And she LOVED feeding me. If food was one of the five love languages, she spoke it well. Needless to say, I was a chunk and like every other kid who is a chunk, I suffered at the hands of my peers for some years.

(Around 10 on the left, 12 on the right)

Around the end of middle school I started to "thin out". Mostly I just got taller so the fat seemed more evenly dispersed. Maybe I was eating less, or better, I don't know. By this time I had lived away from Nanny for some time so there was less lard involved. I had also watched my mom for most of my life hop from one diet to another- always displeased. My dad was also obsessed with his weight and how he looked, spending lots of time at the gym and always exceptionally fit. If my pre-dementia memory serves me correctly it was around this time, end of middle school, beginning of high school that I started to accept warped thinking about food, eating, weight, etc. And no matter how much thinner I was compared to years prior, I still did not fit the cookie cutter high school cheerleader shape. I am all, and have always been, thighs and booty.

(17 on the left, 19-20 on the right)

Throughout high school I generally tried to eat as little as possible and balanced that out with junk food binges, all the while never really gaining or losing weight, but always insecure, always over aware of the issue. Looking back there was nothing fat about me at that point. I was squishy, but not even technically overweight.

And then, pregnancy at 20. At which point I threw all caution to the wind, spent nine months eating pizza and Chinese buffet, leaving me almost 100lbs heavier than I was when I found out I was pregnant. I stayed overweight till Jesiah was two and it was perhaps at this point that my eating and weight issues became the biggest they had ever been.

(Very end of pregnancy with Crisco loving Nanny on the right, afterwards on left)

To lose the weight I worked out 1-2 hours a day, 6 days a week and consumed 1200 calories a day for about 6 months. It was the first time I had ever really exercised and my obsessive self picked it up really quickly. I couldn't miss a day, and I could not go over the amount of calories I allotted myself. Obviously, it worked, and I remained pretty exercise obsessed all the way through my pregnancy with Presley and then again after her birth.

Somewhere along the way I picked up bulimia and it was only a few short summers ago that I was at my very worst, purging pretty much every time I ate. I have worked hard to move away from that, and although I have had a few baby backwards steps, I have. In fact, living in CA and enrolling in school has kept me from finding time to do much of anything other than watch what I eat, and despite the non exercise not actually being ideal, maybe the silver lining is that I have been pretty mentally solid without the obsession which is good.

Don't get me wrong. I NEVER actually eat what I want. Really. I am NEVER not thinking about calories or now, chemicals. I order a lot of salads when we go out and eat mostly meat and veggies at home. I won't order myself dessert, only take a few bites of someone elses. I am non indulgent 99.9% of the time. I cannot imagine being able to order what I actually wanted to eat, eat it, and then go on about my day.

And now, as far as I have come, and I have come really far, I feel like the clean eating movement is serving to bring me back into unnecessary obsession with food. Now it isn't good enough to eat well, you have to also eat clean because the chemicals found in everything ups your chances of dying of everything.

And what about my kids??? I have done what I feel is an exceptional job keeping them removed from my warped weight issues, but is what I am feeding them putting them at risk? Is a night or two of pizza making me a negligent parent? What if we are out and have to grab something on the go? Am I supposed to keep a cooler of organic bread and nitrate free ham sandwiches for everyone? Furthermore, how am I supposed to afford to feed these eating machines organic, grass fed, nitrate free stuff anyways?? My grocery bill is already at the top of our budget and that is with about half "good", half "normal". And which is it that we are supposed to be? Paleo? Vegan? Vegetarian? Gluten Free? Does anyone actually know? Does it actually matter?

It is all too much, and it always has been. There is nothing in my life that has overwhelmed me so enormously, for so long.

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

30 Days: Day 8- Describe Each Member of Your Family



This man is REALLY loud. His normal speaking voice is generally 2-100 notches above what I feel comfortable with. He has jokes. Lots of jokes. He is terribly witty and very good with words. I have never met a person so capable of cleverly placing words together, in rhyme, off the dome. His presence is large, even when not on purpose. He is insatiably hungry for life. He likes nice things. He is EXTREMELY intelligent. If it is broke he can fix it, if it needs to be made he can make it. He is persistent in a way that makes me want to punch myself sometimes. He is enormously loving, affectionate and mostly patient. He works hard and doesn't complain. He makes a pretty swell best friend and is an AMAZING dad.


He is dramatic and difficult. He goes against every single grain. He questions even what he knows is true probably just to hear himself talk. He has something to say about it- all of it. He is 10 going on 30. He is kind and compassionate. He is empathetic and really worries about the well being of others. He is cuddly to the point of suffocation sometimes. He is constantly annoyed with his sister but looks for her to follow him around. He is a fabulous actor. He is funny, entertainment on two feet. He is learning when to stop, how funny is only funny the first time. He thinks outside the box and expresses himself more eloquently than most adults. He loves movies and history and wants to understand all things. He is a lover.


She has been the equivalent of a 10 year old for her entire life. She is sugar and spice. Grins and giggles. She rolls with punches and has minimal come-aparts. She renames herself Lexi and talks to herself in mirrors about cellphones and school. She wears special occasion dresses with dirty cowboy boots. She adores her brother and is truly hurt when he (or others) speak harshly to her. She hates being laughed at. She is kind to everyone, excluding no one from play. She is smart and not easily frustrated. She adores soft blankets and drags them around the house with her. She has always known Santa isn't real, and has never told a soul. She is sunshine. Simply delightful.


#blessed


Tuesday, February 3, 2015

30 Days: Day 7- Who Do You Miss Most From Your Past?


 First of all, I didn't write yesterday because 24 hour migraine. Sorry not sorry.

Some people would think even entertaining a question like this is dangerous- forget answering it publicly. I understand this train of thought. Nostalgia is dangerous. It is dangerous because the way we remember things and people in the light of nostalgia is very often not actually the way they were. We tend to accidentally make bad memories less bad and good ones even better. This is why I refer to pretty much all of my past as "the good ol bad times". (I wrote a whole blog about it, here.)

All that to say, I don't actually "miss" anyone. I don't sit around wishing I had relationships with people who I probably shouldn't have had relationships with to begin with (both sexes included). I might have had some fun, some of the time, but mostly anything prior to marriage was a complete train wreck.

With the exclusion of one individual.

And although I don't "miss" him, I do wish I could speak to him, to be in at least FB contact with him, because he may have been the only overall positive thing in my teenage life. Not only that, I spent a HUGE portion of time with him from 15-19 and I have honestly, the memory of a pre-dementia patient, so it would be nice to have someone who could remind me of who that girl was. Not that she is anyone I would care to know, but I like to mentally lay out how God brought me from Egypt to the promised land.

Also, he was probably one of the most talented and positive people I have had the opportunity to know and I would put money on the fact that he still is. Who doesn't want some form of contact with people like that?

Unfortunately, history is history and in this particular situation, I get to be just that. And, I understand.

"Wasting time
Let the hours roll by
Doing nothing for the fun
Little taste of the good life
Whether right or wrong
Makes us want to stay stay stay stay for awhile..."
-Dave Matthews

Sunday, February 1, 2015

30 Days: Day 6- Words For Thinking


 The actual blog generated subject was "Words that inspire me", but I find the ones that make me think the hardest are inspiration by fault so I am going with that. I am sort of a word nerd- a writer, a reader. That said, there are SO many words that I have come across in this life that have moved me. To keep this under control I will post 10 quotes in no order. Also, I will not include Bible or song lyrics here because those are a whole different blog.

Never cut what you can untie.
-Robert Frost

I must be a mermaid Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living. 
-Anais Nin

Character, like a photograph, develops in darkness. 
-Yousuf Karish

You can be the ripest juiciest peach in the world and there is still going to be somebody who hates peaches. 
-Dita Von Teese

You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.
 -CS Lewis

The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside us while we live.
 -Norman Cousins

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better, it's not.
 -Dr. Seuss

Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree it will spend its whole life believing that it is stupid. 
-Albert Einstein

Let go or be dragged. 
-Zen Proverb

Birth is painful and delightful. Death is painful and delightful. Everything that ends is also the beginning of something else. Pain is not a punishment. Pleasure is not a reward.
 -Pema Chodron