Lopsided by Design

It’s really hard for me to let someone else pay my way without what I consider a “good reason,” like my birthday or because they are thanking me for something.  This makes dating me a slippery slope (on the rare occasion I find a man who can and will offer to pay for a night out), but I digress…  Why does it bother me so much?  I’m a generous person, and I love giving to others when I’m able.  I like picking up things that make me think of someone, I love surprising people with small kindnesses, sending notes, doing anonymous acts of kindness, etc.  Why is it difficult for me to accept favors and “gifts for no reason?” 

I guess it’s mostly because it makes me feel indebted to that person, and I hate that feeling.  I feel that I owe them, and I can’t let it go until I pay them back one way or another (either reimbursing, taking a turn paying their way, or at the very least a prompt thank you note).   Maybe I can’t stand having an imbalance of power.  Maybe I’m afraid I’ll forget to “make it right” if I don’t do it right away.  Maybe it’s because I was raised to be considerate and fair.  Maybe it’s because I’ve had friends who liked to keep score, so I learned that nothing was ever truly a gift unless there was a “good reason” for it.  Maybe it’s because I’ve dated people who said “put your money away – I’ve got this” and then invoiced me for my half, down to the dime.

I know there are those of us out there who appear to be very comfortable taking from others, so my reaction to receiving gifts is not universal.  “The LORD will open the heavens, the storehouse of his bounty, to send rain on your land in season and to bless all the work of your hands. You will lend to many nations but will borrow from none.” (Deuteronomy 28: 12).  I’m not a seminary student or theology scholar.  I’m not sure exactly what this verse means, to be honest with you.  Maybe we’re just being encouraged to give more than we take. 

The season of Lent gives me the opportunity to reflect on the ultimate example of “paying my way.”  You see, I believe that God paid the debt of my sins – those I’ve committed and all those I’ll commit in the future – by sacrificing his only son’s life.  For me.  It’s the biggest, most meaningful, most powerful gift I’ll ever receive, and there is nothing I can do to even attempt to repay it.  I have to just accept it.  It’s humbling.  It wasn’t done for me because I deserved it, and not because I earned it.   

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6: 23).  The key word in that verse, for me, is free.  I don’t have an address to send a thank you note.  Even a quid pro quo offering would be insufficient.  There’s nothing I can do to make myself feel better about receiving this gift.  It’s severely lopsided, and that’s by design.  It’s so far beyond my comprehension.  God believed I was worth it.  Period.  All I can do is spend my life trying to honor Him in my daily living.  I’ll fail each day.  But I’ll always continue to keep trying, to reflect, to learn, to stretch myself and grow.   And hopefully I'll always be humbled by this gift and my inability to pay it back.

Ask Me To Dance

“I finally asked you to dance on the last slow song “

I remember being a teenager, being at a dance, and spending far too much time and energy wishing a certain boy would ask me to dance.  When he did, I found myself wishing like hell he’d asked me earlier in the night so that we could have shared many more dances together.

Life’s like that a lot, and I’ve been both parties: the one leaning against the wall, waiting to be asked to dance, as well as the one working up the nerve to ask.  From where I stand right now, my message in both instances is don’t wait.  Don’t “waste the pretty” standing around hoping someone will notice you, realize your worth, love you the way you deserve to be loved, etc.  Likewise, when contemplating going after something you really want, don’t let fear hamper your timing.  Instead, imagine what it would feel like to get what it is you want….and imagine getting it sooner rather than at some hypothetical “right time.”

Of course I know this is easier said than done.  This is a message for me as much as anyone else.  But I do know this to be true: the chemistry of a good dance to a great song with the perfect partner is really something.  But when you know the lights are about to come up and this will be the last song played, it’s a little bittersweet knowing you could have been feeling that way all night and not just for that four minute song.   And by the way…I’m not really talking about dancing.

Allergic to Caterpillars, Not Butterflies

People always think I’m joking when I tell them I’m allergic to caterpillars.  Even those in the medical field respond with “Beg your pardon?” or “That’s a new one!”  The first thing in my life that I can recall is the day I learned I was allergic to caterpillars.  I was in preschool and we had discovered woolly caterpillars crawling all over a tree on the playground.  I was delighted and began to touch them, pick them up, and eventually let them crawl on my arms and legs.  The rest of the day involved extreme discomfort, hives, rashes, and itching that couldn’t be lessened by bathing or any sort of topical treatment.  To this day, when I see a caterpillar, I overreact a bit to make sure we don’t make contact with one another.

Interestingly, I don’t seem to be allergic to butterflies.  I haven’t spent a lot of time in contact with them, but I’ve certainly touched them, and I’ve had no allergic reaction.  It’s like once they’ve spent some time all wrapped up in their cocoons, sort of hibernating away from the rest of the world, and make that transformation into a new being, our interactions have completely different results.

I spent this winter in hibernation.  I wanted to hunker down with the comforts of home, close friends, and family, seeking solace in the simplest things, like cuddling on the couch and watching a movie or reading a book.  My cocoon was somewhat involuntary.  It was there to prevent aftershocks, rebounds, and additional instances of poor judgment in undeserving people.  Much like a child who’s been startled at someone jumping out of the darkness, I found myself carrying a metaphorical flashlight at all times, or avoiding the “dark” places altogether. 

I wasn’t done healing, the wounds were still seeping.  I was still flushing the toxicity from my system that came from the events I experienced last spring and summer.  I also didn’t want anyone looking for their missing parts in my junk yard, because I felt I had nothing I could bear to part with, needing each and every scrap for my own survival.  I fed myself spiritually and got on the path I'd danced around for so long, but never truly committed to in all the ways that I needed to. 

But now spring has come, in more ways than one.  Everything’s not resolved or forgotten, and there is still hurt that remains, promises that weren’t kept, and “let downs” of enormous proportions.  I'm still afraid.  And yet, after a season of rest and renewal, of self-protection and self-preservation, I think this may be my time to emerge from my cocoon.  I may look different than I did before.  After all, I am changed. 

So many new people and new opportunities have come into my life, and I want to explore them, relish them, allow them to lift me up and permit myself to give again – hopefully without being ripped off in every sense of the word.  I intend on spreading my wings and doing some flying as the Earth is reborn.  Time is so short.  Perhaps shorter than I can fathom.  And while a period of solitude is understandable (and cocoons are comfy), it is not a permanent solution.  It’s time to spend more time laughing than crying, time to do more celebrating and less mourning.  It’s time to dream, and dream big.  My cocoon has split due to my growth.  Here I am.  Let’s do this.

And one to grow on...

As I look back on this past year of my life, this is what I see:

• I lost someone who meant the world to me and who promised to love me forever.  Six weeks before our wedding date, he did some horrible things that stunned me and broke my heart as it has never been broken before.  I still haven't recovered completely and am not sure I ever will.
• I took on the difficult responsibility of becoming the sole custodian of my two children.
• I exhausted myself by adding a part-time job to my long list of responsibilities.
• I struggled with heath problems, had life-changing surgery, and am concerned about ongoing testing and diagnoses.
• I lost a friend to suicide.
• I've lost touch with some friends in my life.
• I'm spread too thin, running my kids to sports practices & games, music lessons, scout meetings, and church activities.

As I look back on this past year of my life, this is what I see:

• God intervened in my life and stopped me from making a big mistake.  I'm learning more and more about what I do and don't want in a partner. 
• I've been blessed to grow closer with my children than ever and to guide their lives in a positive direction.
• I was given a fabulous opportunity to earn additional income for my family and to meet some amazing women.
• I am healthier than ever, now that I've stopped smoking and have increased my physical exercise.  I have access to world-class health care facilities and physicians and have fantastic insurance coverage.
• I gained a new appreciation and value for my own life and realized that - as our preacher said today - "if I'm not dead, I'm not done".  God has a plan and a purpose for my life, even if I sometimes am tempted to quit on everyone around me.
• I've gained new friends that challenge me, inspire me, make me laugh, and encourage me to grow.
• My children are developing talents & interests they are passionate about, and I'm able to support their involvement.  I've also found a church I can call home for the first time in many years, and I look forward to attending worship and bible study there each week.

Both lists are true, and both are about me.  Attitude is everything.  I won't lie - sometimes hurt, pain, stress, and worry occupy my heart and mind.  But I try more and more to live on the other side of the coin, choosing to see the positive in my present circumstances, and inviting God to come in and fill those empty spaces, to soothe those worries, and to give peace when I don't understand. 

"Well, still...pretty good year." :) 

Cold Turkey

People have always told me they were surprised to learn that I smoked.  I’ve never really known what they meant by that.  I guess they expect a smart person to not do something as stupid as that.  I guess that’s why I was a closet smoker at times.  I didn’t want them to judge me.  It took my kids years to figure it out because I hid it well from them for so long.  It wasn’t an example I wanted to set for them, and I certainly was never going to smoke around them and expose them to second hand smoke.

For me, smoking was the thing I did that didn’t make sense or didn’t add up when you consider who I am as a whole person.  It was my crutch.  It was my “go to” when I was sad, angry, frustrated, or bored.  But it was even more routine than that.  It was a part of driving, a part of eating, a part of work, a part of play, a part of practically everything. 

In January, I tried to quit smoking.  I asked my doctor for a prescription (which I’d taken once before for another purpose) with a side effect of smoking cessation.  Apparently, although it wasn’t created for that purpose, it’s used for that purpose quite a bit.  Without effort, I found myself cutting way back on quantity and even frequency, reducing my intake by a third.  But to be honest, I was also pretty much waiting for the medicine to work a miracle all by itself.  I wasn’t giving up easily.  Unfortunately, I quickly remembered why my previous usage of this drug was short term.  For me, it creates a horrid sense of depression and despondency – so much so that after a few days of coming home from work and doing nothing (no laundry, no cleaning, no errands, no exercise, no work for my part-time job, no fun activities with the kids....and folks, there is no other adult in my household), I realized this medicine was changing me and that I had to end it immediately, lest I lose myself completely.  And so I continued to smoke.

Then my pastor did a sermon series on stewardship.  He spoke a lot about letting God into all areas of life, including the area where our hurts and our bad habits reside.  I immediately thought of people who had habits “worse” than mine (as if we can rank our mistakes or sins).  He talked about the distinction between accepting Christ as our Savior and accepting Him as our Lord.  He explained this in a way that really made sense to me for the first time.  I began to think about ALL of the areas in my life, and I challenged myself to think about what it would look like to live in a way that honored God’s will for me, rather than honoring my little plan for myself.  This isn’t a new idea for me.  I have always tried to live in a Godly way and to demonstrate my faith by my actions and words, although I have admittedly failed many times.  I knew, deep down, that if I was honest with myself, living according to God’s plan for me could not include smoking.  There was no excuse that would enable me to do it.

This rested on my heart for a week or two.  Then one day I saw that I had two cigarettes left and thought to myself “okay, I need to stop and get smokes on the way home tonight.”  But then I thought, “or do I?”  It had to come to me in this way.  I never bought that next pack and the end of day 9 is drawing close tonight.  There are absolutely times I still want a cigarette.  There are times I don’t know what to do with myself without one.  I’ve bought healthy snacks, started exercising more, and a coworker surprised me with his decision to quit 3 days ago, so that is helpful as well.  We take walks together now instead of smoke breaks.  Mostly I try – and it’s a behavior I have to learn – to let God in to the place where smoking was…to ask Him to fill the holes that loneliness and boredom make, to let him soothe my nerves and calm my worry and anxiety, to let him mute my temptation and desire down to a manageable level.  I’m not really sure I’m doing anything at all, and when I feel that I am, I’m careful to give the credit to Him instead, so that credit won’t turn to pride.

painkillers

There is aching pain and there is stabbing pain.  A dull ache can go on and on and really weave itself nicely into daily life without causing too much of a disruption.  But that sharp, stabbing pain can't be ignored.  It's the kind of pain that changes who you are.  The good thing is that it can't go on too long - a person couldn't survive that intensity of pain on an ongoing basis for a long period of time.  I was in labor for over 30 hours, but at least there was a brief reprieve between contractions!  Inevitably, time begins to slowly, slowly heal us.  The progress can be barely discernible.

After you bury that pain and cover it up, you can go for long periods of time almost forgetting it is there.  But sooner or later, it sprouts and works its way up through the dark soil.  It springs forth at the most inopportune times, like a perennial on a warm February day when the risk of winter is far from over. 

Today was a day like that.

The question becomes "what is your painkiller"?  Are you turning to things that numb your pain, like your drug of choice (legal or not), alcohol, time at the gym, or even distracting social plans set in place to make you have a rowdy time so as not to think of your pain?  Are you using people as the soil that covers up that deeply buried pain?  Or are you allowing yourself to feel it, to cry, to hurt and flail?  Are you turning to God and asking him to fill the holes in your heart?  Are you surrounding yourself with quality people?  Are you giving to anyone or anything or are you just waiting to receive?

I guarantee that your choice of painkiller will be directly correlated to your healing process.  Some are fast, but temporary.  Some are slow, but long-lasting.  Some are shallow, and some are deep.  We all know the answers in our hearts.  We all know what the best choices are.  We just have to make them.

Good Riddance

Some people have a hard time talking about death - especially their own.  I don't.  I have been thinking about my funeral since I was an adolescent.  I used to help myself drift off to sleep by imagining what people at my funeral might say as they filed past my body.  Is that sick and twisted?  Maybe, but it's a true story!  You see, it matters a great deal to me - what people would say about me, my life, and my impact on others...how I would be memorialized, etc.  I guess you could argue that it doesn't matter and that I'll already be gone, but just humor me and allow me the fantasy of thinking you people are listening to my wishes. :)

I asked my brother a long time ago to sing an acoustic version of Green Day's "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" at my funeral, like Jeannie Boulet did on that episode of "ER".  Not much rattles him, so of course he said yes, but pointed out that he could be in his 80s or 90s and not in great shape himself, maybe even with false teeth and in a wheelchair.  I said I didn't really care because I wouldn't be there to hear it or see it, and to please just do it.

I want it to be loud, with LOTS of music.  Lots of Tori Amos and Prince, because they were the two musicians who moved me the most.  And my love for country music doesn't appear to be a passing phase, like gangsta rap was in college, so include lots of country.  TONS of pictures, from my childhood days to high school (could we please skip the awkward age 10 - 16 period?), college, young adulthood, becoming a mother, etc.  Capture some of the amazing people I knew and loved, as well as some of the amazing things I got to be a part of.  Go ahead and play episodes of Three's Company in the background too.

And please....LAUGH!!!  I want there to be a never-ending line of friends walking to the front of the church, sharing stories of things we laughed at together.  I want my parents to tell the Raisin Thief story.  I want Rodney to tell The Poopie Ball story and share how much we loved movies like Boomerang, Pee Wee's Big Adventure, and Christmas Vacation!  I want my Skyline coworkers to share stories from our incentive trips to Cancun (Canadians don't burn), Jamaica (no we did NOT kiss), and the Dominican Republic (what does a gal have to do to get a drink around here?).  I want Jen to reminisce about our time in undergrad together and at Buckeye tailgates through the years.  I want my family in Virginia to make fun of me as the only city girl in the family, and talk about my experiences with go-carts, moonshine, four-wheelers, rifles, and yes, frog egg necklaces.  I want them to call me Little Doris again.  I want Guy & Dale to talk about our vacations to Gatlinburg and to WV.  You get the idea.

But mostly, I want whomever is in my life at that time to be exuberantly joyful about where I've gone.  I want them to celebrate me home.  Hopefully they will realize that all of my burdens have been lifted, my pain has been erased, my doubts have been silenced, my energy has been replenished, and my wounds have been healed.  For all the times I might have said "Doing the right thing doesn't pay off!" they will realize that it did, in fact, pay off.  Now, make no mistake - I feel I have a lot of business left to do here on earth, namely raising my two children into the most successful, decent, ethical, and compassionate adults they can be. But when my time comes, I want those who knew and loved me to celebrate.  I know I will be.

Green Day, "Good Riddance