And I do not mean that in a sexy way. Our air conditioner was intermittently going out. It'd start blowing warm air, rather than cold. So, we'd shut it off, give it a couple hours, then turn it back on and enjoy the cold, cold air. It kept happening in the heat of the day and generally on the weekends. Obviously, it needed attention before it broke for good, right?? I called the warranty company last Monday... It's been quite a journey.
We've been without air since Tuesday. Sleeping is not happening for Wayne. The guys have been here everyday, but my brain is partially melted so I'm not thinking clearly. They put a new motor in last night, but 20 minutes after they left, it was blowing warm air again. And I couldn't get through on their phones to get them back. I almost cried when I called the warranty company last night and again when I left a message for the a/c guys. The only person relatively unaffected is Jack. He is having a blast. And, he gets to play in the sprinklers whenever he wants so this week is like a bonus for him.
Luckily, we're on Day 3 of no air and I haven't bit anyone's head off. I think I'm too weary to be cranky. They are going to come by today and see if they can fix it. If not, they'll bring more parts tomorrow. Fingers crossed we have air tonight - Wayne can't take sleeping in the heat anymore. (I, on the other hand, have been sleeping better than ever! LOL)
I guess we'll see what happens!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Blogging is scary!
One of the hardest things for me in blogging is really being honest and opening up. It's one thing to post a rant about something that made me so angry at the grocery store. Or an upbeat, positive, I'm gonna make a change! post. Really, most of the people who read my blog aren't going to take issue.
It's the really vulnerable posts that are the scariest. I'll write, read, edit, read, read, read... post to my blog... read, edit... and finally post to FB. That's when the butterflies start going. I wait, with bated breath, for the first comment to appear. Scared to death someone is going to criticize me. As if my feelings could be "wrong?" Really? Obviously, that's my own insecurities. But it seems to be a fairly common theme amongst writers - that fear we'll go too far. We'll write that one thing that really is putting ourselves out there and the response will either be silence or negativity.
It's the really vulnerable posts that are the scariest. I'll write, read, edit, read, read, read... post to my blog... read, edit... and finally post to FB. That's when the butterflies start going. I wait, with bated breath, for the first comment to appear. Scared to death someone is going to criticize me. As if my feelings could be "wrong?" Really? Obviously, that's my own insecurities. But it seems to be a fairly common theme amongst writers - that fear we'll go too far. We'll write that one thing that really is putting ourselves out there and the response will either be silence or negativity.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Rachael
I haven't blogged about Rachael. I've written a couple of status updates on Facebook, but not much. I'm not sure if it's because I don't want to be that vulnerable, I'm just not dealing with it, or I assume no one wants to hear about how sad I am on a daily basis. But then, since I'm not talking about it with the general public... since my answer to "How are you doing [insert sympathetic head tilt]?" is always "I'm okay ... [acknowledging head bob]"... since I'm trying to get back into my life and not let the sad-cloud take over... is everyone thinking I'm fine? With some people, it seems like it. I feel as if I'm being expected to be my same old me. And I'm so not.
It's hard. I hate having to say, "Sorry, I just don't feel up to going out." It feels so weak and wimpy and whiny. But sometimes - a lot of the time right now - I don't feel like going out. I don't feel like being around most anyone. And it's not a reflection on them or on my friendship with them. I just am so tired and I'm so sad and why should anyone have to be a witness to that? Why should I inflict myself on them? It's exhausting to not be sad; to be "normal" and talk and laugh. I'm exhausted. I'm so very, very sad.
Rachael was born when I was 18 years old. I remember at my high school graduation party, out by the pool in our Florida house, Mom walking around with her pregnant belly. Rach was born just a couple months later. I was there - not there there, but at the hospital. Waiting in Mom's room while she had a C-section. It was scary and crazy to me. I didn't have any friends who'd had babies. I wasn't yet seven years old when my brother was born (different set of parents). And that was one of those old school situations: we went to bed and woke up the next morning to Grandma sleeping on the couch. Next thing I know, there's my baby brother coming home.
I loved Rachael in an almost obsessive way. I was an "adult" living at home, going to college and working at the daycare where she went while Mom and JD (my stepdad) worked. I'd take her to daycare, check on her while I was on break... feed her dinner at home. When I missed her first birthday, because we were driving the cars across country for a move, I broke down upon seeing her again. (It'd only been a week. Haha!)
I moved out when I was 20. I wasn't happy living in California and wanted to be out on my own. I moved back to Florida and didn't get to see much of Rach (or my parents) for a while. They were far away, I was consistently broke, and to be totally honest - I was living my own life. Self-absorbed - as most 20-somethings are and should be. Moving from Florida, to Texas, back to Florida, back to Texas - following boys and jobs and my other family. I moved back to Cali when she was 7. Mom was having a lot of health problems and I wanted to be there to help.
It was hell. Rachael hated me. She resented having me there, telling her what to do. A terribly smart kid, she knew how to get under my skin. We fought all the time.
Life went on. We had our ups and downs. Rachael did not have an idyllic childhood. Mom was sick, and blaming herself for it; in trying to overcompensate for her illnesses, she'd give in to Rachael. Again, she was a super smart kid - she knew how to get what she wanted. And what she wanted - it seemed to me - was to live her own life; nevermind, she was still just a kid. She had it all figured out.
My job in Cali got transferred to Dallas. I was lucky to be renting a room in a house, given how expensive Cali is, but knew I'd love being back in my own apartment in Dallas. (Texas cost of living is like 1/3 that of California.) So, I left. I met my future husband, got engaged, got promoted at work, got pregnant and moved the wedding up by a year. Mom, JD and Rach moved to Dallas to be near us. Unfortunately, my husband's job search led us to southern Arizona.
I didn't know Rachael had started using drugs until much later. I remember telling my mom to get her tested, but, apparently, it'd already been going on for a while. I hate that most of my conversations with Rachael ended up being an argument. I hope she always knew that me trying to get her to stop sneaking out at night, stop partying, stop doing drugs was all because I love her and wanted the best for her.
I loved the pictures she took and posted to Facebook. Except the half-naked ones... and the murder/blood ones... I didn't know they were expressions of her art. I just saw my baby sister, half-naked, online. I judged. I judged my parents for what I thought was too much leniency. And I was wrong. I wasn't there everyday to see her, to know her. To know that his was her talent and her beauty coming through. My favorite photo is hard to pick but this one always stands out:
She took many more - not of herself. I guess I like these because they are of her. Because this is how I want to remember her.
As far as I can tell, she started with drinking and pot. Like most teens do - but she was 12 when she started. What was recreational became a way of life. Her intellect was used to figure out how to get more. And her favorite source was Mom's pain pills. Mom has several back and joint issues that cause an unbearable amount of pain. Mom and JD went from locking their bedroom doors, to lock boxes, to a keypad safe and eventually a biometric (fingerprint) safe. She broke them all. Too damn smart for her own good. And we're all paying the price.
My baby sister, who was colicky as hell as an infant; who would scrunch up her face and put up her dukes to the phrase, "wanna fight?" when she was a year old; who loved cheerleading and dancing at age 7; my baby sister who I barely knew anymore... was hooked on Opana. Rachael would steal the pills from the safe, crush them, and snort them. Because, unlike me, she knew they were time released and this was the quickest way to get high. At 16, she told Mom, "I'm only happy when I'm high." And now, she's dead.
My parents couldn't afford to pay for rehab outright. So, they were doing what most of us do - trying to go through insurance and find a provider. Mom spent months trying to get Rachael into an inpatient program. Rach and JD went to Narcotics Anonymous meetings. She was seeing a therapist. Rachael knew she had a problem. She wanted to stop. But no help was to be found.
At 4:30 a.m. on Sunday, April 1st, my phone rang. I saw it was JD and thought he'd forgotten the time difference. Instead of telling him in an annoyed voice what time it was, I heard him sobbing out Rachael's name and everything in me stopped cold. The rest of the day is a blur. I remember getting no help with rates from the airlines; trying to sync my flight with my other sister's...
Then, came the hardest and strangest experience of my life. Helping my parents pick out Rachael's cremation casket, urn, stationary... going to the store with Riann to try to find a dress for Rachael's viewing... talking to the pastor about her funeral service. It was all very surreal. It still kind of is. A part of me still expects a text from her, complaining about Mom. Or asking me for something impossible and then getting mad when I say no. Or to see something on her Facebook that makes me cringe.
I've been in a numb-ish state for a while. More and more, I find the sadness creeping in. I told Wayne the other day I feel as if no matter how much fun I'm having, no matter how good my day is, there is a sadness shadowing it all. And I'm tired of never having an awesome day, anymore. Every song I hear, every show I see, every single thing makes me think of her. I'm fighting an overwhelming sadness every single day. Some days, I feel like I'm losing. Others, not so much.
Yesterday, when I started this entry, I was sad. Today, I've been angry. It's a roller coaster of emotion. And I'm not a huge fan of roller coasters.
Before you can say it, I know. I know it will get better. It takes time. Everyone grieves in their own way. I've heard it all. But hearing it, and knowing it, doesn't make this easier.
It's hard. I hate having to say, "Sorry, I just don't feel up to going out." It feels so weak and wimpy and whiny. But sometimes - a lot of the time right now - I don't feel like going out. I don't feel like being around most anyone. And it's not a reflection on them or on my friendship with them. I just am so tired and I'm so sad and why should anyone have to be a witness to that? Why should I inflict myself on them? It's exhausting to not be sad; to be "normal" and talk and laugh. I'm exhausted. I'm so very, very sad.
Rachael was born when I was 18 years old. I remember at my high school graduation party, out by the pool in our Florida house, Mom walking around with her pregnant belly. Rach was born just a couple months later. I was there - not there there, but at the hospital. Waiting in Mom's room while she had a C-section. It was scary and crazy to me. I didn't have any friends who'd had babies. I wasn't yet seven years old when my brother was born (different set of parents). And that was one of those old school situations: we went to bed and woke up the next morning to Grandma sleeping on the couch. Next thing I know, there's my baby brother coming home.
I loved Rachael in an almost obsessive way. I was an "adult" living at home, going to college and working at the daycare where she went while Mom and JD (my stepdad) worked. I'd take her to daycare, check on her while I was on break... feed her dinner at home. When I missed her first birthday, because we were driving the cars across country for a move, I broke down upon seeing her again. (It'd only been a week. Haha!)
I moved out when I was 20. I wasn't happy living in California and wanted to be out on my own. I moved back to Florida and didn't get to see much of Rach (or my parents) for a while. They were far away, I was consistently broke, and to be totally honest - I was living my own life. Self-absorbed - as most 20-somethings are and should be. Moving from Florida, to Texas, back to Florida, back to Texas - following boys and jobs and my other family. I moved back to Cali when she was 7. Mom was having a lot of health problems and I wanted to be there to help.
It was hell. Rachael hated me. She resented having me there, telling her what to do. A terribly smart kid, she knew how to get under my skin. We fought all the time.
Life went on. We had our ups and downs. Rachael did not have an idyllic childhood. Mom was sick, and blaming herself for it; in trying to overcompensate for her illnesses, she'd give in to Rachael. Again, she was a super smart kid - she knew how to get what she wanted. And what she wanted - it seemed to me - was to live her own life; nevermind, she was still just a kid. She had it all figured out.
My job in Cali got transferred to Dallas. I was lucky to be renting a room in a house, given how expensive Cali is, but knew I'd love being back in my own apartment in Dallas. (Texas cost of living is like 1/3 that of California.) So, I left. I met my future husband, got engaged, got promoted at work, got pregnant and moved the wedding up by a year. Mom, JD and Rach moved to Dallas to be near us. Unfortunately, my husband's job search led us to southern Arizona.
I didn't know Rachael had started using drugs until much later. I remember telling my mom to get her tested, but, apparently, it'd already been going on for a while. I hate that most of my conversations with Rachael ended up being an argument. I hope she always knew that me trying to get her to stop sneaking out at night, stop partying, stop doing drugs was all because I love her and wanted the best for her.
I loved the pictures she took and posted to Facebook. Except the half-naked ones... and the murder/blood ones... I didn't know they were expressions of her art. I just saw my baby sister, half-naked, online. I judged. I judged my parents for what I thought was too much leniency. And I was wrong. I wasn't there everyday to see her, to know her. To know that his was her talent and her beauty coming through. My favorite photo is hard to pick but this one always stands out:
These are more of my faves.
She took many more - not of herself. I guess I like these because they are of her. Because this is how I want to remember her.
As far as I can tell, she started with drinking and pot. Like most teens do - but she was 12 when she started. What was recreational became a way of life. Her intellect was used to figure out how to get more. And her favorite source was Mom's pain pills. Mom has several back and joint issues that cause an unbearable amount of pain. Mom and JD went from locking their bedroom doors, to lock boxes, to a keypad safe and eventually a biometric (fingerprint) safe. She broke them all. Too damn smart for her own good. And we're all paying the price.
My baby sister, who was colicky as hell as an infant; who would scrunch up her face and put up her dukes to the phrase, "wanna fight?" when she was a year old; who loved cheerleading and dancing at age 7; my baby sister who I barely knew anymore... was hooked on Opana. Rachael would steal the pills from the safe, crush them, and snort them. Because, unlike me, she knew they were time released and this was the quickest way to get high. At 16, she told Mom, "I'm only happy when I'm high." And now, she's dead.
My parents couldn't afford to pay for rehab outright. So, they were doing what most of us do - trying to go through insurance and find a provider. Mom spent months trying to get Rachael into an inpatient program. Rach and JD went to Narcotics Anonymous meetings. She was seeing a therapist. Rachael knew she had a problem. She wanted to stop. But no help was to be found.
At 4:30 a.m. on Sunday, April 1st, my phone rang. I saw it was JD and thought he'd forgotten the time difference. Instead of telling him in an annoyed voice what time it was, I heard him sobbing out Rachael's name and everything in me stopped cold. The rest of the day is a blur. I remember getting no help with rates from the airlines; trying to sync my flight with my other sister's...
Then, came the hardest and strangest experience of my life. Helping my parents pick out Rachael's cremation casket, urn, stationary... going to the store with Riann to try to find a dress for Rachael's viewing... talking to the pastor about her funeral service. It was all very surreal. It still kind of is. A part of me still expects a text from her, complaining about Mom. Or asking me for something impossible and then getting mad when I say no. Or to see something on her Facebook that makes me cringe.
I've been in a numb-ish state for a while. More and more, I find the sadness creeping in. I told Wayne the other day I feel as if no matter how much fun I'm having, no matter how good my day is, there is a sadness shadowing it all. And I'm tired of never having an awesome day, anymore. Every song I hear, every show I see, every single thing makes me think of her. I'm fighting an overwhelming sadness every single day. Some days, I feel like I'm losing. Others, not so much.
Yesterday, when I started this entry, I was sad. Today, I've been angry. It's a roller coaster of emotion. And I'm not a huge fan of roller coasters.
Before you can say it, I know. I know it will get better. It takes time. Everyone grieves in their own way. I've heard it all. But hearing it, and knowing it, doesn't make this easier.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Confrontation-averse does NOT equal wrong.
I hate confrontation. Seriously, hate it. My heart beats really fast, my blood rushes through my head, I feel weak and unsteady and just plain stupid. I can't think straight. Which makes it hard to make my point. And I end up "losing" the conversation. Not that winning is what it's about with me, but it's about standing up for myself. Apparently, I'm not very good at it. It doesn't help that my every effort to do so is thwarted by my own anxieties and I end up looking worse than when I began.
Most of the time, I just avoid, avoid, avoid. I will take your abuse and remember that it probably is not even about me. I like to believe that if I'm in a relationship worth being in, and the other person has a problem with me, she/he will state it without me having to ask. Sadly, there are times and relationships where that will not work. Where I must take a stand. The time leading up to that goes like this for me: first, I consider everything I'd like to say. Then, I try to imagine what the other person will say. As this is going on in my head, my heart starts to race and my hands begin to shake. I feel lightheaded, nauseated, and not a little crazy. Because the whole point is that I feel wronged - so why am I scared?! What have I done? What can the other person do to me? Obviously, it's my own doubts and insecurities holding me back. I wouldn't call it a "confrontation" if I'd done something wrong and needed to apologize. I'm just not like that. Apologizing so much easier for me than asking someone to stop hurting me. Sad, but true.
The only person I've been comfortable confronting is my husband. (Thank God, right? haha!) It's probably because I am so secure in our relationship, so sure in the knowledge he loves and respects me - and I him. I remain calm, I don't cry or yell (mostly), I'm not nervous. I make the points I need to make and know that I'm not being foolish, dramatic, etc.
Ohhhh. That's interesting. I do have a serious fear of people accusing me of drama. I have tried, for so long, to avoid being a dramatic person. Even in dramatic situations. Which, of course, goes back to being belittled for having feelings at various points in my life. My feelings were wrong and I was making a big deal over nothing.
So, what I'm lacking going into confrontation is confidence. And the only person who can control that is me.
Most of the time, I just avoid, avoid, avoid. I will take your abuse and remember that it probably is not even about me. I like to believe that if I'm in a relationship worth being in, and the other person has a problem with me, she/he will state it without me having to ask. Sadly, there are times and relationships where that will not work. Where I must take a stand. The time leading up to that goes like this for me: first, I consider everything I'd like to say. Then, I try to imagine what the other person will say. As this is going on in my head, my heart starts to race and my hands begin to shake. I feel lightheaded, nauseated, and not a little crazy. Because the whole point is that I feel wronged - so why am I scared?! What have I done? What can the other person do to me? Obviously, it's my own doubts and insecurities holding me back. I wouldn't call it a "confrontation" if I'd done something wrong and needed to apologize. I'm just not like that. Apologizing so much easier for me than asking someone to stop hurting me. Sad, but true.
The only person I've been comfortable confronting is my husband. (Thank God, right? haha!) It's probably because I am so secure in our relationship, so sure in the knowledge he loves and respects me - and I him. I remain calm, I don't cry or yell (mostly), I'm not nervous. I make the points I need to make and know that I'm not being foolish, dramatic, etc.
Ohhhh. That's interesting. I do have a serious fear of people accusing me of drama. I have tried, for so long, to avoid being a dramatic person. Even in dramatic situations. Which, of course, goes back to being belittled for having feelings at various points in my life. My feelings were wrong and I was making a big deal over nothing.
So, what I'm lacking going into confrontation is confidence. And the only person who can control that is me.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
What? What new year? It can't be 2012, yet!
This year has absolutely flown by!! It's been nearly 6 months since my last post. And upon reading that last one, I find myself amazed at how quickly these months have passed. Obviously, as one grows older time moves faster. It can't be that the million things a grown up has going through her mind takes up so much time that it just seems as if time flies. (And, let me tell you, it's got very little to do with having fun. Not to say I've had no fun. Just on a fun-to-not-fun ratio, not fun is winning.) On the other, very contradictory hand, it seems as if the all-consuming fires of the summer were ages and ages ago. (Why is the other hand always so contradictory? Seems as if they'd agree every now and then, doesn't it?)
To the current point... a new year fast approaches. And while we should be striving to make changes for the better every single day, we tend to wait for a new beginning on the calendar. Mondays are very popular, for instance. Which also makes them unpopular. But that's less to do with change and more with work. I always, always fall prey to the silly yet traditional Resolutions. I always make them. I rarely fulfill them. Maybe I should reverse psychologize myself!! But no, because I'd know I'm doing it and that defeats the purpose...
So, in thinking of my New Year's Resolutions 2012, I began with the most stereotypical yet applicable hopes:
1. Lose weight
2. Be more financially responsible
3. Be a better mom and wife
All very good thoughts but all very predictable and boring. All things I've said before. Then, I read a post from my Facebook friend Jill; she and her family choose one word to focus on for the entire year. FANTASTIC!!! It suits me down to the bone! It's so lazy! Or is not lazy because encompassed in that one word are endless opportunities for growth?! Yes! Awesome! So... my word for the upcoming new year is going to be....
AWESOME!!
No, no. I'm just kidding. I'm already awesome. And that's not really something to grow toward anyway. How about...
LAZY!!
Yes! I love it! Because being a mom and a wife is hard work. And that guy, Dan Wood, he has Reflections on Laziness so it must be a good thing, right? Hmmm, well... the only problem is I'm pretty good at Lazy. A little too good.
All jokes aside, the word that came to me is BALANCE. Because I need more balance in my life. Balance in my physical self, my mental self, my financial self, my parental self and my spiritual self. My little family will benefit immensely from me learning to balance all aspects of my life.
My body has been lately telling me that I am sorely in need of balance. Headaches, stomach problems, skin problems, etc. They all point to needing more balance in my diet and exercise. Of course, this will be the basis of balance for all the other parts of my life. When my body is in balance, my mental state will be more balanced. (Haha! I guess that means I'm mentally unbalanced!) Which will influence my parenting style, my finances, my everything.
As my good friend Verity said, "2012 is our year!" And I am so ready! Bring it on, 2012! :)
To the current point... a new year fast approaches. And while we should be striving to make changes for the better every single day, we tend to wait for a new beginning on the calendar. Mondays are very popular, for instance. Which also makes them unpopular. But that's less to do with change and more with work. I always, always fall prey to the silly yet traditional Resolutions. I always make them. I rarely fulfill them. Maybe I should reverse psychologize myself!! But no, because I'd know I'm doing it and that defeats the purpose...
So, in thinking of my New Year's Resolutions 2012, I began with the most stereotypical yet applicable hopes:
1. Lose weight
2. Be more financially responsible
3. Be a better mom and wife
All very good thoughts but all very predictable and boring. All things I've said before. Then, I read a post from my Facebook friend Jill; she and her family choose one word to focus on for the entire year. FANTASTIC!!! It suits me down to the bone! It's so lazy! Or is not lazy because encompassed in that one word are endless opportunities for growth?! Yes! Awesome! So... my word for the upcoming new year is going to be....
AWESOME!!
No, no. I'm just kidding. I'm already awesome. And that's not really something to grow toward anyway. How about...
LAZY!!
Yes! I love it! Because being a mom and a wife is hard work. And that guy, Dan Wood, he has Reflections on Laziness so it must be a good thing, right? Hmmm, well... the only problem is I'm pretty good at Lazy. A little too good.
All jokes aside, the word that came to me is BALANCE. Because I need more balance in my life. Balance in my physical self, my mental self, my financial self, my parental self and my spiritual self. My little family will benefit immensely from me learning to balance all aspects of my life.
My body has been lately telling me that I am sorely in need of balance. Headaches, stomach problems, skin problems, etc. They all point to needing more balance in my diet and exercise. Of course, this will be the basis of balance for all the other parts of my life. When my body is in balance, my mental state will be more balanced. (Haha! I guess that means I'm mentally unbalanced!) Which will influence my parenting style, my finances, my everything.
As my good friend Verity said, "2012 is our year!" And I am so ready! Bring it on, 2012! :)
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Monument Fire
The southern part of the state is ablaze. I tried to hide from it. I told myself, "Eh - they'll contain it." As it drew closer to the homes of people I know, places I've dined, "Psh. It'll be fine. It can't get to us. We're in the middle of town."
Today, I no longer cling to those indifferent and indulgent beliefs. Wayne told me early today that I should "maybe lie some things aside, just in case." My mind began racing with what is truly important. What do we need should it come down to leaving our home, believing it would soon be burnt to nearly nothing? And where would we go? How far does one go to outrun a fire of this magnitude? Something entirely unthinking, yet blindingly, mercilessly feeding on the very earth?
We came up with a plan - should the fires reach spot X, we'll leave. Go on an impromptu vacation and leave our home to the whims of fate. I've begun categorizing and mentally calculating what will fit into the bed of the truck. The pros and cons of taking both vehicles. What I truly would be heartbroken over leaving behind. Mostly, it's about Jack. And our wedding. I cried, and I text my sister, saying we may have to come stay with her. After that was done, I realized the only thing left was a return to life as we know it...
Wayne, Jack and I went to see the 62nd Army Band Brass Quintet play a Concert in the Park tonight... what struck me most was the contrast. Here we sit, enjoying a nice summer evening, listening to music, enjoying the breeze and the setting sun... yet just 10 miles away firefighters are embroiled in a hellish battle, fighting flames as high as 40 ft, and people are leaving everything behind, fleeing a wildfire that seems almost alive in its greed to consume...
I'm definitely stressed, a little scared, emotional... and resolutely getting to a point of certainty and calm. We will do what needs to be done. I'm praying for all the people who have already had to evacuate, for the firefighters, and for an end to the insanity.
Today, I no longer cling to those indifferent and indulgent beliefs. Wayne told me early today that I should "maybe lie some things aside, just in case." My mind began racing with what is truly important. What do we need should it come down to leaving our home, believing it would soon be burnt to nearly nothing? And where would we go? How far does one go to outrun a fire of this magnitude? Something entirely unthinking, yet blindingly, mercilessly feeding on the very earth?
We came up with a plan - should the fires reach spot X, we'll leave. Go on an impromptu vacation and leave our home to the whims of fate. I've begun categorizing and mentally calculating what will fit into the bed of the truck. The pros and cons of taking both vehicles. What I truly would be heartbroken over leaving behind. Mostly, it's about Jack. And our wedding. I cried, and I text my sister, saying we may have to come stay with her. After that was done, I realized the only thing left was a return to life as we know it...
Wayne, Jack and I went to see the 62nd Army Band Brass Quintet play a Concert in the Park tonight... what struck me most was the contrast. Here we sit, enjoying a nice summer evening, listening to music, enjoying the breeze and the setting sun... yet just 10 miles away firefighters are embroiled in a hellish battle, fighting flames as high as 40 ft, and people are leaving everything behind, fleeing a wildfire that seems almost alive in its greed to consume...
I'm definitely stressed, a little scared, emotional... and resolutely getting to a point of certainty and calm. We will do what needs to be done. I'm praying for all the people who have already had to evacuate, for the firefighters, and for an end to the insanity.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Religion
"So... what's up with the church stuff lately?"
"Yeah, um... I noticed you've been going to church a lot lately."
"Don't expose Jack to those lies!!"
"I'm so glad you've decided to walk the right path."
"Let me lend you this book about why Christianity is the only way."
"insert person's favorite Bible verse here"
Just a few of the comments I've gotten lately because *gasp!* I've chosen to go to church on Sundays and participate in a Ladies' Bible Study on Wednesdays. Uuugggghhhh. What is a private and personal journey has become something I have to discuss, at length, with almost everyone I know. Something I have to either defend or spend an eternity listening to how "right" I am... now. Because, before, I was apparently taking the side of Satan - headed down a path of evil, sure to quit this world in a fiery blaze, to suffer for all eternity. Some believe there is nothing beyond the life we are living. There's no greater power, there's no "magic book" to tell us right from wrong... Others believe the Christian Bible is the ONLY way, the ONLY truth. And a lot believe it's their duty to tell me how to believe. The one or two who love to throw Bible verses at me? Uhhhh, if I don't understand the context, it really has very little impact, besides the obvious feeling of being condescended to. Especially when I'm trying to have a real conversation with you about your thoughts/feelings - if you want to base your opinions on the verse and explain why you like it so much, that's awesome! I love that! But just throwing verses my way to explain why I'm wrong in a discussion wholly unrelated to religion?! Not so cool - and really not making me a fan of the Bible or your religion!
Luckily, most of the people at the church we've been attending for the past year haven't said anything more than "Hi! So happy to see you! How are you?" and the like. Which is EXACTLY what I love about them. I don't want or need to feel pressured. Obviously, if I'm at your church, I'm there to learn your perspective and beliefs so pressure is completely unnecessary.
And I do have friends who I ask to impart their knowledge and/or opinion. People I absolutely trust to listen and hear my heart - to give me a chance to explain or to learn before jumping all over me with why I'm the devil's seed.
Okay, enough about others. (For now, anyway.) I have always... let me repeat that... always believed in a higher power. I've never, ever claimed to be an atheist. However, I have always had doubts about Christianity. The whole Virgin Mary, Moses parting the Red Sea, Noah and the Ark, and other crazy stories in the Bible made it really, really easy to say, "Psh!!! What a bunch of crazies, believing in that crap!" And, to be fair, I have my share of doubts still. It just doesn't make sense, is all! Coming back from the dead?! Really? And Jesus?! That guy sounds like a cult leader, if I've ever heard one! (Which, come to think of it, I really have never heard a cult leader speak...)
Maybe those opinions have convinced others that I am a non-believer altogether. And that's why people are so very shocked and stunned that I (the apparent heathen?) am attending church regularly and going to a Bible study and praying for people, rather than sending them "happy thoughts." I mean, shocked and awed is seriously the reaction I've been getting! As if I've morphed into a completely different person. And, let me tell you, I have not. I am not as "boy-crazy" as I used to be - because I got married. I don't drink as much - because I am thirty-four and it freaking hurts the next day. (To be fair, would you ever have said I was a lush? No.) I don't cuss as much - because I am a mom and I find it tacky to hear a 4 year old drop the f-bomb all the time. (I also don't cuss as much because I'm around people who prefer not to hear that kind of language - so around them, I refrain. It's called respect. And boundaries.)
You will not find me preaching the Bible. You will not find me having any deep-down differences in morals, spirituality, or basic principles. I am still the same person I've always been - with a little more maturity and a lot less drama in my life.
Here are Jen's basic tenets for life:
I began going to church for several reasons. I heard a pastor on the radio and what he was saying just made sense. I don't remember the exact excerpt or even the subject but I remember the feeling: I felt uplifted. I felt his sermon could be applied to any person, of any religion. I felt a sense of strength and hope and... just rightness. Whatever it was he said, I remember thinking it wouldn't, couldn't, be a bad thing for our family. Going to church each Sunday is a way to make sure we are keeping in touch with our core values - maybe not Christian values, per se. But morality and unity for us.
We also went because we had friends who wanted us to come to their church. It was Easter Sunday. It seemed appropriate, for some reason. Wayne grew up Catholic. He has firm beliefs in God. I remember going to church once when I was a little girl. I remember my mom and stepdad talking about God - about how God loves everyone. And that "G-D" was the worst cuss word ever. Ha!
We stayed because, overall, we like the message. We like the pastor and the way he presents his sermons. We like the fellowship, the overall sense of peace and joy within those walls. There have been things that we do not - and never will - agree with.
Would I call myself a Christian? No. May I someday? Maybe. Part of me is afraid not to! But the bigger part of me resists being a hypocrite. Not only because there's no fooling God - He sees the heart of every man, after all. And I cannot honestly say that I believe everything in the Bible. I cannot say I believe that anyone who doesn't believe in Jesus will burn; that good, honest people who have faith in another version of the Christian God but with the same morals, same basic stories, same loving hearts will burn; that good, honest, loving people with no belief in in God but who live their lives with morality and heart are Satan's followers into hell. I can't believe it.
I'm pretty sure this is the most "offensive" thing I've ever written. Because I wrote it knowing it goes against what almost everyone I know believes in one way or another. The atheists, the Christians, and everyone in between. But I want to thank the people who support me while I look for the truth - as it applies to me and my life. I truly appreciate loving words of guidance, support, and acceptance. None of what I have written is aimed at anyone. I can understand and appreciate the questions and the offers - I simply wanted to explain it once and for all, as clearly as I can.
"Yeah, um... I noticed you've been going to church a lot lately."
"Don't expose Jack to those lies!!"
"I'm so glad you've decided to walk the right path."
"Let me lend you this book about why Christianity is the only way."
"insert person's favorite Bible verse here"
Just a few of the comments I've gotten lately because *gasp!* I've chosen to go to church on Sundays and participate in a Ladies' Bible Study on Wednesdays. Uuugggghhhh. What is a private and personal journey has become something I have to discuss, at length, with almost everyone I know. Something I have to either defend or spend an eternity listening to how "right" I am... now. Because, before, I was apparently taking the side of Satan - headed down a path of evil, sure to quit this world in a fiery blaze, to suffer for all eternity. Some believe there is nothing beyond the life we are living. There's no greater power, there's no "magic book" to tell us right from wrong... Others believe the Christian Bible is the ONLY way, the ONLY truth. And a lot believe it's their duty to tell me how to believe. The one or two who love to throw Bible verses at me? Uhhhh, if I don't understand the context, it really has very little impact, besides the obvious feeling of being condescended to. Especially when I'm trying to have a real conversation with you about your thoughts/feelings - if you want to base your opinions on the verse and explain why you like it so much, that's awesome! I love that! But just throwing verses my way to explain why I'm wrong in a discussion wholly unrelated to religion?! Not so cool - and really not making me a fan of the Bible or your religion!
Luckily, most of the people at the church we've been attending for the past year haven't said anything more than "Hi! So happy to see you! How are you?" and the like. Which is EXACTLY what I love about them. I don't want or need to feel pressured. Obviously, if I'm at your church, I'm there to learn your perspective and beliefs so pressure is completely unnecessary.
And I do have friends who I ask to impart their knowledge and/or opinion. People I absolutely trust to listen and hear my heart - to give me a chance to explain or to learn before jumping all over me with why I'm the devil's seed.
Okay, enough about others. (For now, anyway.) I have always... let me repeat that... always believed in a higher power. I've never, ever claimed to be an atheist. However, I have always had doubts about Christianity. The whole Virgin Mary, Moses parting the Red Sea, Noah and the Ark, and other crazy stories in the Bible made it really, really easy to say, "Psh!!! What a bunch of crazies, believing in that crap!" And, to be fair, I have my share of doubts still. It just doesn't make sense, is all! Coming back from the dead?! Really? And Jesus?! That guy sounds like a cult leader, if I've ever heard one! (Which, come to think of it, I really have never heard a cult leader speak...)
Maybe those opinions have convinced others that I am a non-believer altogether. And that's why people are so very shocked and stunned that I (the apparent heathen?) am attending church regularly and going to a Bible study and praying for people, rather than sending them "happy thoughts." I mean, shocked and awed is seriously the reaction I've been getting! As if I've morphed into a completely different person. And, let me tell you, I have not. I am not as "boy-crazy" as I used to be - because I got married. I don't drink as much - because I am thirty-four and it freaking hurts the next day. (To be fair, would you ever have said I was a lush? No.) I don't cuss as much - because I am a mom and I find it tacky to hear a 4 year old drop the f-bomb all the time. (I also don't cuss as much because I'm around people who prefer not to hear that kind of language - so around them, I refrain. It's called respect. And boundaries.)
You will not find me preaching the Bible. You will not find me having any deep-down differences in morals, spirituality, or basic principles. I am still the same person I've always been - with a little more maturity and a lot less drama in my life.
Here are Jen's basic tenets for life:
- I've always believed that love, above all things, is the key to happiness. Love for friends, love for family, love for a significant other, love for yourself, love for the world around you.
- I've always, always believed that you treat others how you'd like to be treated. That what you put out into the world will come back to you. If you want to call that Karma or Judgment Day, that's fine. I call it common freakin sense.
- I've always believed that there is something beautiful, magical and amazing in the world around us. Nature, specifically, but also man's gift for creating something out of nothing. Everything, in the proper perspective, is cause for awe. But mostly it's the way the earth is formed, the way the flora grows and the fauna lives. Call it God's hand or The Goddess's work... I don't care. I just respect it and appreciate it.
- Laugh as much as you can. Be around people who love you and respect you. Learn from everyone around you. Grow with each interaction and each day.
- Be honest. Be brave. Be the best person you can be. But mostly, be honest. With yourself, with others, with the way you live your life.
I began going to church for several reasons. I heard a pastor on the radio and what he was saying just made sense. I don't remember the exact excerpt or even the subject but I remember the feeling: I felt uplifted. I felt his sermon could be applied to any person, of any religion. I felt a sense of strength and hope and... just rightness. Whatever it was he said, I remember thinking it wouldn't, couldn't, be a bad thing for our family. Going to church each Sunday is a way to make sure we are keeping in touch with our core values - maybe not Christian values, per se. But morality and unity for us.
We also went because we had friends who wanted us to come to their church. It was Easter Sunday. It seemed appropriate, for some reason. Wayne grew up Catholic. He has firm beliefs in God. I remember going to church once when I was a little girl. I remember my mom and stepdad talking about God - about how God loves everyone. And that "G-D" was the worst cuss word ever. Ha!
We stayed because, overall, we like the message. We like the pastor and the way he presents his sermons. We like the fellowship, the overall sense of peace and joy within those walls. There have been things that we do not - and never will - agree with.
Would I call myself a Christian? No. May I someday? Maybe. Part of me is afraid not to! But the bigger part of me resists being a hypocrite. Not only because there's no fooling God - He sees the heart of every man, after all. And I cannot honestly say that I believe everything in the Bible. I cannot say I believe that anyone who doesn't believe in Jesus will burn; that good, honest people who have faith in another version of the Christian God but with the same morals, same basic stories, same loving hearts will burn; that good, honest, loving people with no belief in in God but who live their lives with morality and heart are Satan's followers into hell. I can't believe it.
I'm pretty sure this is the most "offensive" thing I've ever written. Because I wrote it knowing it goes against what almost everyone I know believes in one way or another. The atheists, the Christians, and everyone in between. But I want to thank the people who support me while I look for the truth - as it applies to me and my life. I truly appreciate loving words of guidance, support, and acceptance. None of what I have written is aimed at anyone. I can understand and appreciate the questions and the offers - I simply wanted to explain it once and for all, as clearly as I can.
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