Letters to My Family

I challenged myself to write a letter a day, for 40 consecutive days, to my husband, my son, and my daughter. That came to 120 letters. In a word-exhausting.

What I learned:

• that this was more a learning experience for me, than a sharing experience with my family because I don't think they were impressed with the letters,
• that trying to stay positive when I was having down days proved almost impossible,
• that letter-writing is overrated,
• that I don't have as much to say as I thought.

All in all, I'm glad that I've hit my goal, but I'm more glad that it's over. I know that my children will probably be relieved that they won't need to accept any more letters.

It was an interesting...experiment--one that I don't think I'll try again, at least not to this extent. Not along with writing multiple blog posts and a poem everyday. Too much is too much. I'd like to have enough time to say something, if not insightful, then at least practical. Some days I know I only blathered because time ran short.

I guess there's another lesson in there somewhere... I encourage everyone to lose their minds in this experience--and then find it again at the end.*

*I don't necessarily guarantee that your mind will be found again.

Enjoying My Day

I do enjoy days where I can play catch up on those things that I've had to slack off on. Feels good. Especially when I do things at my own leisure.

Luxurious.

The World Against Me

I wonder how many feel the way I do. Unsafe in this world. It's a subtle paranoia that creeps on me every so often. When I go outside and see that patio chair has been broken, or my children's flower pots have been stolen (what's up with that) while my neighbors' things have been left undisturbed. When a neighbor moves in and parks on the street where we've been parking. Not because it's closer to their residence, but because they just want to take something from us. Their assigned parking is closer to them than the street parking.

Phone conversations with haughty, apathetic customer service representatives. The inability to get a check cashed in a bank that I have an account with. Businesses not returning messages. My son's doctor that refuses to answer the phone (or as I suspect, deliberately sends everything to voicemail when they don't feel like doing their jobs) so that I have to wait a week to get the same prescription refilled every month. My daughter's teacher who carelessly misinforms her and leaves her anxious because she trusts the teacher as an authority figure.

All these things make me feel insecure in this world. I'm surrounded by people whom I think would walk past my daughter if she were hurt on her way to and from school. My son's school has already proven that they don't care if they endanger his health because they don't want to administer the medication that he has in the nurse's office. My husband has been in a bind more than once where no one would help him when he's been stranded on the side of the road.

Me, I'm just thankful that no one has decided to shoot me dead. Would there even be an investigation? I think even my so-called friends would merely say, "Oh, that's tragic and move on pretty quickly."

I live in this world, but I'm not apart of this world. Every day that I step out in it is a reminder of that.

Eternal Love

What I've been learning this month: to love each person I come across in an eternal way. Not just for what he or she is worth to me here and now, but for what that person is worth to God in eternity.

Hard lesson.

Spring Cleaning

So I'm cleaning out my house, from top to bottom. All very gross. I've hit the outside and now I just have...well, my bedroom left. Every time I have something that I don't know what to do with, I just dump it in my room. Now there's stacks of boxes everywhere in here, and I have no idea what I will do with them. I asked my husband to get me a shelf, but that probably won't help that much.

Honestly, my mind could use a little cleaning, too. I'm okay where I'm at--though I'm not satisfied. The question is: am I striving for complete satisfaction? Isn't that an impossibility?

I'm trying to fill my head with positives and truths so that there is less and less room for negativity and lies. I think this is a legitimate strategy...I'll know soon enough.

Having critical, judgmental, ugly, vulgar thoughts jump in my head at all hours is wearing me down. I hate not being in control of what's going on in my mind. No matter how much I try to control my thoughts, I can't get them in hand. Not even to decrease them.

Therefore, I will be trying out this new strategy (better than doing nothing about it, I'm thinking). Positive thinking with a sprinkling of reality for groundedness is just what I need to keep my inner self from being a wellspring of bitter anger that I've picked up from the world.

It's Hard to Give Compassion

How do I stop when I'm hurting and just turn to one who has hurt me and still treat that person with respect, dignity, and love? At a time when you don't feel any of those things?

Sometimes I feel like generosity favors those who are contemptible. Because, really, they are the ones benefiting from mercy and grace. They don't reciprocate, just take, take, take. What is the point?

I think these things like this, but in the heat of the moment, I know that I will err on the side of forgiveness. Especially if someone is in need, not matter what my past history may have been with that person.

Yet after I'm out of the moment, I regret treating someone who treats people wrong with respect. It never comes to good, or so I think. I dwell on all the person's negative aspects and can't see their worth.

It's difficult to remember that I may be seen as despicable to someone else and that person withheld hate and instead gave me what I did not deserve. But every now and then the realization hits me, and I can't but help but to pass that gift on to others, though they may not know how to receive it.

On the Cusp of Change?

I feel like the tide is turning in my life. That probably means a bad patch ahead, and there's nothing I can do to prepare for it. I definitely can't say that I'm ready for it.

However, I will face it with as much dignity as I can. And, hey, the future may hold something unexpected that may prove to be a joy.

Dear Enemy

I pray that you never get 

what you deserve.

Instead I hope that 

God blesses you

and keeps you,

opens your eyes and

your heart--

fills your life with

joy and truth.

I forgive the harm

and the hurt

that you've burdened on me.

For your sake, I pray

you accept the One

who can bring you

salvation.

I want for you

an eternity in happiness

by my side, laughing together,

dear enemy.

April Calendar Is Full

Boy, I sure do have a lot on my plate (metaphorically speaking because I'm still not eating so much because of the dairy restriction) for next month. For some reason, I've decided to write two stories at once. I'm also doing daily prompts for National Poetry month at an online forum I sporadically help to moderate, and I'm about to take on further responsibilities with my son's schooling, along with who knows what.

I sure am tired--pronounced 'tahd'...Don't worry; it's a good tired. I'm sleeping like a breast-fed baby.

My Heaven, Your Hell.

After the bright lights subside
there you stand, in the midst
of tall grasses and sweet air.

Humming reaches your ears
and you turn your head
in anticipation and eagerness.

Up there! What do you see?
Choirs of angels swaying in song...
But you frown at the noise.

They swing their shoulders
as they utter their praises
scats and beatboxing and rapping.

You cringe and pull your head
back in confusion and contempt.
Surely angels would sing hymns?

This isn't the reverent spirituals
befitting a great King. Would a Holy
God accept music such as this?

Before you can question further--
Over a hill women and men spill
to greet you with joyful smiles.

Your blood runs cold and your
own smile falls. Not very many
of them look very much like you.

Some have turbans. Others robes.
A few wear colored braids and
wild hairstyles you have never seen before.

Where are the familiar faces that you
expected? Surely this place would be
filled with the people you held dear.

In a sudden flash, you contemplate
the possibility that you have gotten
it all wrong; that this beautiful place

that you thought was full of angels
and saints was ridden with demons and
lost souls. Not Heaven, but Hell.

Why Peace Is So Stressful

Everyone wants more peace in their lives, right? Well, no. I don't think so. Peace is gained through struggle and sacrifice, not comfort and contentment. How can I be freed from worries and distractions and distress if I've never experienced them in the first place? Yet who wants more strife? Who wants to let go? Even when it's of something painful, we don't like to let go. That means losing--no one wants to be a loser.

So, we leave ourselves unchallenged. We settle, thinking we're satisfied. And we hold on to what we don't need and never empty our hands so that we have a chance to grab on to something of substance.

The hardest thing about peace is recognizing what it truly is.

Too Afraid to Hope for Rest

Isn't Sunday the day that I'm supposed to rest in the Lord? Yet I haven't really done that in a long time. And when I make the effort to plan that, those plans fall apart like one of my German chocolate cakes (but the cakes, at least, taste better when they crumble apart). Things come up, and I find myself running here and there and filling my day with this and that until it's time to sleep (or in my case, fall unconscious), and I've barely done the things that were piled on my plate.

Why is resting so much work?

Therapist - Part 3

Still looking for a therapist. Oh, and my son needs a speech therapist. Ba-da-dun.

I'll be here until they show up with the funny jackets and juice.

Motivating Yourself When You're Behind

I feel like I can't ever catch up. There's a million things in front of me. It's not like I can just say, "Well, I'll just let them go." They are important things; that's why they are in front of me. I also have a billion things behind me that I've had to let go.

My days go by in a blur, and I have to cram, cram, cram it all in. I'm starting to learn to say, 'No' however. I guess that's a good thing? Doesn't feel so good.

Right now, I'm running in place. Might as well be running backwards. I have somewhere I need to get to, but for the life of me, I can't get there. I'm making no progress. I'm too weighed down to move.

Forgiving without Forgetting

I'm called to not only forgive, but to intercede for those who have wronged me. They are people, worthy of eternity. This is so easy to forget.

However, their past deeds do not fade from my mind. These things leave scars that never heal. I'm left with the seams that I trail my thoughts over, hating the feel but unable to help the obsession. How do I get past it? I'm stuck here in this circular pattern. I want out of this trap.

I am a network of ridges, dimples, and scabs. Infections lay underneath, waiting to boil up and fester. Is this the result of forgiveness or un-forgiveness? I think I'm asking the wrong questions. It's the outcome of unmended relationships that have trickled down to every arena of my life. I absolved my betrayers' responsibilities, while believing that I must take them over. No.

I must let them go. I cannot carry them for they are too heavy and too painful to hold. The scars are unsurprising.

Yet even as I move on from the hurts, the memory of them follows. Can I outrun them? No, that would be an unnecessary effort. I am to use them, empower myself. They are evidence of bestowed strength, and I would be foolish to escape that.

I must never forget that, although at times my focus skews inward and I wallow in my pain because I am thinking small. The meanness of my perceptions pushes out everyone who stands beside me until I convince myself that I am alone. My vision then grows smaller and smaller until I can no longer see. I've blinded myself.

Now when I try to open my eyes, I am still in the dark. Even if light comes near, I turn away. It hurts my eyes. But the deepness of my void scares me, and I begin searching for that light. It's a futile exercise with sightless eyes.

I want out so I finally decide to find help. By this point I'm broken and ashamed--all because someone wronged me. I'm led back into the world and startled to find people waiting for me. But I forget that I'm not helped yet. I'm still holding onto something, my hands spasming.

Somewhere down the road I get used to keeping my hands closed. But I slam against a wall and to protect myself I open my hands. I drop those debts that don't belong to me, still unpaid. Then, I ask for them to be taken away. The burden that lifts amazes me.

What do I do know? I move on and use those ghosts that don't quite recede to build myself up and to keep my eyes open for those who are in the same position I once was. But what about the betrayer in my life. I forgave, but do I have a right to demand change?

That I don't know.

Restless Spirit Syndrome

I'm so not in the "Christmas spirit" or whatever that is. I can't concentrate. I feel restless. I have Restless Spirit Syndrome [RSS].

What I want to do and be is at cross purposes with what the world is trying to force me to do and be. It is a dark era, full of discontent.