It had hit that cold part of winter. The part of winter when you have a hard time remember how hot and miserable you were in the summer. The part of winter when it is always gray, always overcast, and never snows (at least not here in Virginia).
It's always the hardest part of winter for me. By the end of later January I'm always driving myself crazy. I can't imagine how horrible it must be for my poor husband and daughter. Most days I just feel apathetic and lethargic. I love my life, but for some reason I feel dissatisfied with myself. I want so desperately to grow. I ache for spring. Winter has never been my season. To bleak, to suffocating. Not even hope. Not enough motivation. It's to easy to make excuses to pull the covers tighter and ignore the world around you. It's to cold to think, to cold to care, to cold do do, or feel, or act.
Maybe that is why God gives us cuddly little toddlers. To crawl up into our laps and bring a little warmth. The relentless cold doesn't appear to affect her. She is growing like a weed. Like a daffodil in a green house she is blossoming in the middle of winter. Growing and changing. Thawing my heart out. Giving me reasons to throw off the blanket and dance around the house, just to see her laugh.
1/26/09
10/1/08
Blue Diamonds
It's Mother's day. A pudgy little Boy of four or five hands a clumsily wrapped gift to his mother. Most likely an older sister had offered to help him wrap the gift. But chances are he instead on doing most of it himself. That's just the way he is. Content to be the baby of the family, but fiercely independent at times.
His mother opens the box and does the appropriate ooing and ahhing and holds up the gift for every one to see. The little boy's eyes shine as he see's the earrings in his mother's hands. Boy had spent a long time agonizing over his choices at the jewelry wall in the dollar store. He was determined to find something worthy of her beauty. Watching Mother show off the blue plastic hearts he knows he chose well.
"I wanted to get you diamonds" say Boy, "and then I saw the blue ones."
She could have worn them around the house and Boy would have been thrilled. That's the kind of child he was. Innocent and easy to please.
But she didn't wear them around the house. She wore them to church that morning when her husband preached. And proudly showed off her Blue Diamonds when people asked what she received for Mother's Day. That's the kind of Mother she was. Always proud of her children. Always.
Boy is 20 now. And still the same. Innocent, laid back, and always thinking of others.
Mother is the same as well. Proud of her children. Always.
She received 5 other presents that year. No one could tell you what they were.
But the blue diamonds are still in a small box on her dresser.
His mother opens the box and does the appropriate ooing and ahhing and holds up the gift for every one to see. The little boy's eyes shine as he see's the earrings in his mother's hands. Boy had spent a long time agonizing over his choices at the jewelry wall in the dollar store. He was determined to find something worthy of her beauty. Watching Mother show off the blue plastic hearts he knows he chose well.
"I wanted to get you diamonds" say Boy, "and then I saw the blue ones."
She could have worn them around the house and Boy would have been thrilled. That's the kind of child he was. Innocent and easy to please.
But she didn't wear them around the house. She wore them to church that morning when her husband preached. And proudly showed off her Blue Diamonds when people asked what she received for Mother's Day. That's the kind of Mother she was. Always proud of her children. Always.
Boy is 20 now. And still the same. Innocent, laid back, and always thinking of others.
Mother is the same as well. Proud of her children. Always.
She received 5 other presents that year. No one could tell you what they were.
But the blue diamonds are still in a small box on her dresser.
9/25/08
Spiritual Kansas
When I was 15 we drove from Maryland to Colorado and back. On the way we passed through Kansas. I don't remember much about it except is was flat. Very, very flat. There weren't any mountains. There weren't any valleys. Just flat. Lately I feel stuck in a spiritual Kansas. My walk with God is fine. It isn't bad. I'm not in a valley or anything. But I'm not on a mountain either. Now I know we can't always be on a mountain top, but it's been a long time since I've experienced anything other than a mole hill. Perhaps it's just contentment. Maybe I'm just getting comfortable with my walk with God. Maybe this is what a walk with God looks like when not clouded with the hormones of adolescents, college, or pregnancy. Maybe I'm just analyzing to much. Perhaps I should be glad. But I am feeling pulled, drawn, I am craving something more....
8/18/08
His Grace
I had a break through today. Though that phrasing makes it sound way more dramatic than it actually is. Perhaps a nudge through would be a better description. It is a realization that has been floating on the edges of my mind. A lesson that God has been trying to get me grasp for who knows how long.
The majorty of my issues and/or sins come down to a failure to grasp the promise in 2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficiant for you. My power is made perfect in weakness." My entire life I have been told I expect to much of people. I have a very hard time loving people with out expecting something from them. I know this. It is a struggle I have had since child hood. I am afraid that if I pour into some one else with out knowing they can pour into me I will some how be left empty. It is selfish I know. My sin is in trusting other sinfull fallen saints to meet a need only God can. If I love as God has called me to, then His grace will overflow in my life.
Another area I strugle with is finances. I have such a hard time seaking God in that area becuase I am afraid He will call me to give more than I am comftorable with. I have put my trust in my savings acount and not in God's grace. I actually feel kinda stupid. He has proven himself over and over in this area and yet I have a hard time beliving.
How limited my life will be if I am only willing to give my time, my money, my love, my gifts if I am assured that I or some other humane can replenish them. About a month ago I was really strugling with this concept. "If God's grace is sufficiant then why do I feel so empty?" I wondered out loud to my best friend. She asked if I was truely seeking God's will, or if I was running head first at what I thought I should be doing and expecting God's grace to catch up with me. See God's grace is sufficiant to fulfill HIS plans for us. Epshians 2:10 "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."
God's grace is sufficiant for the work He has for us to do. And the only way to tell the difference is to desperately seek Him. The only way to know God's will is to know Him. It is such a simple thought and yet one I struggle so much to grasp. I feel so sorry because of the opportunities I have missed and the people I have hurt becuase I haven't had the faith to trust His suffiancy. I am also overwhelming greatefully for the people in my life who has paitently sat there and pointed out the truth, even when I didn't want to see it. Thank you.
And now I am left with a choice. Will I seek God's will and accept His grace. Or will I continue to run ahead hoping grace will find me and blaming God when it doesn't?
The majorty of my issues and/or sins come down to a failure to grasp the promise in 2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficiant for you. My power is made perfect in weakness." My entire life I have been told I expect to much of people. I have a very hard time loving people with out expecting something from them. I know this. It is a struggle I have had since child hood. I am afraid that if I pour into some one else with out knowing they can pour into me I will some how be left empty. It is selfish I know. My sin is in trusting other sinfull fallen saints to meet a need only God can. If I love as God has called me to, then His grace will overflow in my life.
Another area I strugle with is finances. I have such a hard time seaking God in that area becuase I am afraid He will call me to give more than I am comftorable with. I have put my trust in my savings acount and not in God's grace. I actually feel kinda stupid. He has proven himself over and over in this area and yet I have a hard time beliving.
How limited my life will be if I am only willing to give my time, my money, my love, my gifts if I am assured that I or some other humane can replenish them. About a month ago I was really strugling with this concept. "If God's grace is sufficiant then why do I feel so empty?" I wondered out loud to my best friend. She asked if I was truely seeking God's will, or if I was running head first at what I thought I should be doing and expecting God's grace to catch up with me. See God's grace is sufficiant to fulfill HIS plans for us. Epshians 2:10 "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."
God's grace is sufficiant for the work He has for us to do. And the only way to tell the difference is to desperately seek Him. The only way to know God's will is to know Him. It is such a simple thought and yet one I struggle so much to grasp. I feel so sorry because of the opportunities I have missed and the people I have hurt becuase I haven't had the faith to trust His suffiancy. I am also overwhelming greatefully for the people in my life who has paitently sat there and pointed out the truth, even when I didn't want to see it. Thank you.
And now I am left with a choice. Will I seek God's will and accept His grace. Or will I continue to run ahead hoping grace will find me and blaming God when it doesn't?
8/13/08
An Autobiography.
I have come to the conclusion recently that I don't think I could or would ever atempt an auto biography. I found this surprising becuase I had often thought that one day I would. Not that I think my life is terribly interesting but becuase a number of my life experience has been out side of the main stream. (Being a pastors daughter, being home schooled K-12, going to a christian college, getting married strait out of college.) I also firmly believe that every day things such as waiting tables, being a camp counselor, and raising an extroverted 9 month old, can make for rather entertaing stories assuming the are communicated in the right manner. The more I obeserve life however the more I realize that I don't trust myself to convey the story of my life.
For starters our memories are never as acurate as we assume them to be. The further away we get from an event the more scewed our memories become. Either we look back at nestolgia remembering only the wonderful warm fuzzies of the moment We remember only the we recived the baby doll we wanted for Christmas when we were 6 and forget that it broke the next day. Or we do the oposite and mainting the our exboy friend is a horrible jerk and forgetting the qualities in the person that first drove us to be with them. That being the case how could we ever present a truthfully acount of our memories if we only present one half of them.
Which brings me to the second reason I would hesitate to put my life story down on paper. Since I was not raised by monkeys in the middle of a tropical forest, my life is full of other people. And any attempt to write my story would demand an effort to include at least part of theirs. If I can not even accurately remember my story, how presumptious of me to think I could pressent some one elses story. I could never begin to imagaine the unknown thoughts and motives of even my own family. How could I present the truth, If I don't know what that is.
Not that I believe that truth is relative. I believe there is one truth. However, I think as a humane it is hard to fully understand the truth of ourselves and others. Perhaps it is reality that is realtive.
For starters our memories are never as acurate as we assume them to be. The further away we get from an event the more scewed our memories become. Either we look back at nestolgia remembering only the wonderful warm fuzzies of the moment We remember only the we recived the baby doll we wanted for Christmas when we were 6 and forget that it broke the next day. Or we do the oposite and mainting the our exboy friend is a horrible jerk and forgetting the qualities in the person that first drove us to be with them. That being the case how could we ever present a truthfully acount of our memories if we only present one half of them.
Which brings me to the second reason I would hesitate to put my life story down on paper. Since I was not raised by monkeys in the middle of a tropical forest, my life is full of other people. And any attempt to write my story would demand an effort to include at least part of theirs. If I can not even accurately remember my story, how presumptious of me to think I could pressent some one elses story. I could never begin to imagaine the unknown thoughts and motives of even my own family. How could I present the truth, If I don't know what that is.
Not that I believe that truth is relative. I believe there is one truth. However, I think as a humane it is hard to fully understand the truth of ourselves and others. Perhaps it is reality that is realtive.
6/18/08
"It"
"Your sister tried for years and she hasn't done 'it'." The words haunt me. Mock me. Subtly assuring me that I was right all along. I don't measure up. I will never be as good as them.
It doesn't matter that I spent four years studying "it". It doesn't matter that I did "it" as an internship. It doesn't matter that I received scholarship for "it"... twice. All that matters is that she my sister tried "it" and is still struggling to make "it" work.
The unspoken message screams at me. Asking what makes me think I can be successful at "it" if she hasn't? It obtrusively insinuates, no flat out states that she is better than I am and, in the process, stomps on any hope of ever measuring up.
They were only spoken once, but those words still Inger. Whispering doubt. Laughing at me for wasting four years of my time. Shaming me for wasting my money and theirs. Snickering behind my back at any attempt to prove them wrong.
And I realise that the voice is right. If I allow one carelessly spoken statement to hold me back from "it", then how was I ever foolish enough to think that I could make a dream come true?
It doesn't matter that I spent four years studying "it". It doesn't matter that I did "it" as an internship. It doesn't matter that I received scholarship for "it"... twice. All that matters is that she my sister tried "it" and is still struggling to make "it" work.
The unspoken message screams at me. Asking what makes me think I can be successful at "it" if she hasn't? It obtrusively insinuates, no flat out states that she is better than I am and, in the process, stomps on any hope of ever measuring up.
They were only spoken once, but those words still Inger. Whispering doubt. Laughing at me for wasting four years of my time. Shaming me for wasting my money and theirs. Snickering behind my back at any attempt to prove them wrong.
And I realise that the voice is right. If I allow one carelessly spoken statement to hold me back from "it", then how was I ever foolish enough to think that I could make a dream come true?
6/16/08
I Miss You.
My Husband and I were talking tonight and he mentioned how much he enjoyed something I wrote for him a long time. A life time ago. When we were first married. So, for him, here it is.
I miss you. Did you know that? I miss you when I am work. I miss you while I'm cooking dinner. I miss you while we are sitting next to each other on the sofa watching TV. I miss you at night while you are holding me in bed. It sounds foolish when I say it out loud. But it is real none the less. There are times when I am surprised that you can hold me so tight. I feel as though there is something between us. It's not a wall. If it is a wall I wouldn't be able to see you or touch you. No it's not a wall. It's a fence. It is a fence that allows me to look over and see you. You are on the happy side. You are on the side I want to be on. I can touch you to. I can reach over the fence and hold your hand. I can graze you with my finger tips. But ever time I try to pull you close that fence gets in the way.
I miss you. Did you know that? I miss you so much I've thought about climbing the fence. I've even tried. But I keep falling down and scraping up my knees. Once or twice I thought I found the gate. But when I pushed it was only a loose board, taunting me with glimpses of the other side. But to tight to wiggle through.
I miss you. Did you know that? I hate myself for building this fence. I know it's my fault. I built it to keep me safe. It was supposed to keep every one else out. Not you. I don't remember burying the key.
I miss you. Did you know that?
I miss you. Did you know that? I miss you when I am work. I miss you while I'm cooking dinner. I miss you while we are sitting next to each other on the sofa watching TV. I miss you at night while you are holding me in bed. It sounds foolish when I say it out loud. But it is real none the less. There are times when I am surprised that you can hold me so tight. I feel as though there is something between us. It's not a wall. If it is a wall I wouldn't be able to see you or touch you. No it's not a wall. It's a fence. It is a fence that allows me to look over and see you. You are on the happy side. You are on the side I want to be on. I can touch you to. I can reach over the fence and hold your hand. I can graze you with my finger tips. But ever time I try to pull you close that fence gets in the way.
I miss you. Did you know that? I miss you so much I've thought about climbing the fence. I've even tried. But I keep falling down and scraping up my knees. Once or twice I thought I found the gate. But when I pushed it was only a loose board, taunting me with glimpses of the other side. But to tight to wiggle through.
I miss you. Did you know that? I hate myself for building this fence. I know it's my fault. I built it to keep me safe. It was supposed to keep every one else out. Not you. I don't remember burying the key.
I miss you. Did you know that?
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