Posts Tagged religion

& then there were two

December 20, 2009 at 10:11 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , ,

Grandparents, that is. Maggie & Sadie now have more living great-grandparents than grandparents. Tom’s daddy died at 10pm on Thursday, Dec 10th. Bobby, Daddy & I flew up to Ohio on Friday, the visitation (or “calling hours,” as it’s called in the North) was Sunday, and the Mass was Monday. Tom, Jennifer, & the girls were booking it for South Carolina by Monday night. They were gone for a total of 13 days & 12 nights, which in baby-world, is an eternity.

It feels very surreal, this parentloss. Aren’t we a little young to be doing this? Aren’t you supposed to make it to your 40’s or 50’s before your parents die? We can’t seem to make it to 30 in our family.

Things feel a little more normal less traumatic now that we’re home again. We’re all back to work (well, those of us who have jobs) & determinedly embracing the Christmas spirit. Listen to some Christmas carols, damn it. Pass the effing eggnog.

The sheer chaos of the last week did bring about a breakthrough on a personal level for Jen, Sue & me. Ya’ll may recall that I was raised in a somewhat cultish conservative religious environment, and one of the biggest deals is women wearing pants (fondly referred to as devil britches). Like, it’s a BIG DEAL — bigger than wearing makeup or cutting your hair or painting your fingernails.  As of last week, my sisters and I, ages 31, 26, and 22, had never ever wore pants in front of either of our parents. We’ve grown up, gotten married, bought houses, & birthed children (one of us, anyway), and we have never been caught without PAC, which is sister-speak for “Parent-Approved Clothing.” I have actually seen my father’s vehicle in my own driveway and driven away from my own house and hidden in a nearby parking lot until he left. Yes, I have.

Then there was the time just a few months ago that Sue & I were having dinner with Bobby, his mom, & his sister, and our internal PAC radar started beeping as Daddy drove by. And without an explanation, Sue and I get up from the dinner table and run, literally RUN, to our bedrooms to change into skirts. Bobby’s mom and sister were confused. I can’t imagine why.

Anyway, back to last week. Tom & Jennifer are calling with updates on his daddy, Bobby’s grandfather is in the hospital ICU again, Sue’s in the midst of her final exams, I’m freaking out at work waiting for “the” call from Ohio, and then Bobby falls down the stairs. He calls me gasping for air and I freak out (some more) and race home to find him lying in the kitchen floor with the dogs sniffing his face & his butt concernedly. He’s completely convinced that he’s punctured a lung because he spit up blood after he fell. Because a punctured lung is all we need right now.

So I get him off the floor & into the car & take him to the hospital, where his mom (who happens to be working) is worried that he’s cracked a rib or two (turns out his just pulled some muscles, but it hurt like a bitch. Oh, and the spitting up blood thing? He bit his damn tongue when he fell. Drama queen.). So I’m sitting there pulling our insurance information (because that’s when we still HAD medical insurance) & trying to help Bobby & answering inquiries from work about when I’ll be back & then Daddy calls & announces that he’ll be there in two-point-five minutes.

And suddenly, my focus shifts from my job and Bobby and Tom’s dad to “Holy shit. I have on pants. And my father is coming here.”  Commence the mother of all freakouts. I actually seriously considered leaving Bobby at the hospital and going home to change. I berated myself for not carrying a spare skirt in my car. I tried to talk to Bobby about it, and he just moaned in pain and cussed and was no help at all. So I just sat there. I mean, what’s a girl to do? And for the first time in almost 32 years, I wore pants in front of my father. And ya’ll know what?!? He didn’t even blink. What the hell is that about?!

Then Jennifer wore pants in front of him in Ohio, and he didn’t blink. And then I wore pants in front of him yesterday, and he didn’t blink. Jennifer finally asked him what the deal was — like, what the hell, dude, we race around like idiots for 31, 26, & 22 yrs respectively and you’re not even reacting? And he told us that it was “between us and our husbands” and it was none of his business as long as we still respected him by not wearing pants in HIS house.

And then Bobby & Tom, who are both fine with their wives wearing pants, laughed their asses off. I swear to God, I was born into a family of freakin’ crazies.

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helpful things

September 1, 2009 at 9:25 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , ,

As is often the case, the deepest funk is followed by a realization that all this “stuff” I’m doing is (gasp!) actually working?!? Last week was the darkest it’s been in a while — just a pervasive feeling of utter despair with no light. September is particularly difficult…  my first thought when I woke up this morning is “Today 2 years ago, Mama was dying & everything was falling apart. Today 1 year ago, I was having a D&C.”  And then I turned my brain off and went to breakfast with girls from church.

Although working through and living with grief &/or depression is an ongoing process, these things are helping. And so I list them here — for others who may be interested, and mostly for myself for future reference.

  1. GriefShare – I’m 3 weeks into this 13-week program. Although I’ve read tons of grief books and even did a support group through Hospice, I have resolutely avoided ANYthing religious until now. So this is new ground. My group is ~15 people, and all kinds of loss — sudden death & terminal illness, teenage children & babies born still, suicide & natural death, recent & years ago. I know it depends on your group &/or mediator, but this series, and the accompanying workbook, has been great.
  2. Acupuncture — Such a positive experience. My acupuncturist, Cassandra, is unbelievably compassionate, and we talk quietly for 15-20 minutes before each session. About 10 minutes after she puts the needles in, I can literally feel the tension draining out of me. It’s amazing, and I’m not a huge user of that word. I do giggle at the sheer incongruity of it — 5 needles sticking out of each ear, a few in my forehead, wrists, and a bunch in my feet. It’s made for some amusing stories here in small-town South Carolina, where that there eastern-type medicine just ain’t done. It’s an expensive vice, but I’m hooked, at least through September.
  3. Quote Notes – During acupuncture #2, Cassandra told me that when I feel overwhelmed, I should say aloud, “Darling, I’m here for you.” I’m not really into mantras and such, but the simple comfort of these words really struck me. So the next day, I found several comforting & supportive quotes, typed them up in pretty fonts, and taped them around the house. They’re on the bathroom mirror, the kitchen cabinet doors, next to our key-hook, over the alarm keypad, beside the front door… everywhere that I look at least twice daily. Bobby just shakes his head when he comes across a new one. He’s a patient man.
  4. beliefnet — I’m bad about signing up for little inspirational email things and then deleting them without even opening them. But last week, during the sad times, I made myself read those suckers. And as hokey as it sounds, they actually help. Not all of them, of course… but some of them have been both interesting & timely.
  5. The Shack — And finally, this little book. I know that everyone and their grandma has read it. I’ve been holding out due to my anti-religion policy. But I bought it and I’m been reading it.  The writing isn’t fabulous, the story isn’t a nail-biter. But I felt a powerful sense of recognition as I read the author’s description of what he calls “The Great Sadness.”  His portrayal of grief is achingly accurate, as is the acknowledgment of anger at God.

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control-freak? who, me?

August 11, 2009 at 12:24 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , ,

Please pardon me while I spaz. It’s not pretty, but it’s either this or lie wide-awake next to a snoring Bobby for another hour, and that, I just can’t take.

After last night’s conversation, I was awake until 6am. That’s just plain ridiculous, especially for a girl who can sleep through most anything. I’ve found that of the Big Three — grieving the loss of my mother, infertility, & TheChurch — that the little religious buggers are the most incompatible with sleep. Must learn the simple art of compartmentalizing. I feel shaken to the core, and I haven’t quite figured out how to just let it go and resume the tasks of normal living. Perhaps a (large) glass of red wine and a refill of sleep meds are in order?

I’m really hoping that a year from now, I’ll be able to look back and say “wow, Sarah, you were an exhausting pain in the ass, but you finally plowed through all that crap. Got that outta the way.” Now wouldn’t that be nice.

There’s just no RESOLUTION to any of this. There’s no fix, and it’s overwhelming and frustrating and just plain aggravating as hell.

Major Issue #1: I feel lost without Mama. I know I sound like a broken record, but I just miss her so damn much. Every day. I continue to actually forget, then remember that she’s gone at least twice a day. Today I realized that I accidentally programed Daddy as Speed-dial #4 on my phone, and that’s Mama’s number. It’s been empty since I deleted her cell number from my phone book because I couldn’t stand seeing it anymore. Should I just leave him as the new occupant of #4? Should I move him? I mean, is #4 just going to stay empty forever?

Resolution? Absolutely no. thing.

Major Issue #2: Infertility. Well, I keep thinking that a nice, calm pregnancy would be just peachy, but my damn innards won’t cooperate. There’s something funky going on this cycle, and I pretty much have no idea what day I’m even on. I’ll spare you the details.

Resolution? Keep my RE appt on Aug 31st and hope for a quick fix. Ha.

Major Issue #3: TheChurch demons. I keep them at bay most of the time, but when they get riled up, it’s completely and utterly draining. I knew this would happen before I even met with the childhood people… I KNEW that it would scrape up and open and expose all sorts of ugly and disturbing crap. I very seriously considered canceling because it’s just so much easier to stay on the surface. When I’m on the surface, Sue and I watch lots of Net.flix movies, and I keep the house relatively clean, and come up with all sorts of culinary adventures for dinner. I might even make a quilt or knit a baby blanket or play solitaire. It’s nice and easy and doesn’t involve tears, insomnia, or gnashing of teeth. But when I mentioned to Sue that I was thinking about canceling, she asked me an excellent question: “Do you think you’ve put TheChurch to rest temporarily or permanently? Because if it’s just temporarily, you need to go.” And so I went.

Resolution? I have no freakin’ clue. I want closure, but I have no idea how to get it.

So there we have it. No solutions, only problems. I hate not feeling like I have any control. I loathe and despise it.

During our talk last night, one of the girls said something so, so smart. She said that “fear is the opposite of faith.” The opposite, meaning you can’t have both… it’s an either/or situation. Overwhelmedness (yes, spellcheck, I know it’s not a word but I’m leaving it) is based on fear. Fear of the future stretching out before me without my mother/guide/touchstone. Fear of a childless world where fighting the sadness and disappointment of infertility is part of my daily life forever. Fear of never being able to quiet TheChurch’s voice in my head.

But faith… ahhh, yes, such a nice, simple little word. Trusting that it’s all going to work out, even though I can’t see the end right now. Trusting that I’ll find peace without Mama, even though I’ll never stop missing her. Trusting that our baby will come when the time is right, even though that’s a hard pill to swallow right now. Trusting that I’ll one day be able to think about TheChurch with no emotion, instead of the rush of anger/guilt/betrayal/frustration/sadness that now collapses on me like a brick wall.

Sometimes I wonder if meditation or some such thing would be beneficial. Learning how to tune out and tune in sounds lovely right about now.

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I call bullsh*t

June 22, 2009 at 9:28 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged ,

There’s this girl who’s my age. She has a loving husband and a beautiful baby girl. She also has cancer in her liver. It hurts my heart to think about her, about her family, about the toil of the treatments and the ever-present fear, about test results, about what could happen. It’s gut-wrenching. And the best part? It’s EVERYWHERE… everywhere you look, really bad things are happening to really undeserving people.

So I’m gonna take this opportunity to pick a fight with one of the most common statements uttered here in the Bible Belt of the South:

“God never gives us more than we handle.”

I grew up having this statement drilled into my head. Like many things that are present for your entire life, you just hear it without actually THINKING about it.  However, when my mother died, this statement suddenly become *extremely* offensive to me. Like literally, someone would say that to me, and I would have an urge to immediately scream obscenities and/or punch the speaker right in their platitude-spewing piehole. I often wonder if the people who throw this statement around so casually have ever been completely broken by something outside their own control. Somehow, I think not.

So why exactly does that statement bring on such a negative reaction?

I think it’s because of the word “give.” “Give” is an active word, one that implies a voluntary, intentional action. You give a gift. You give an award. You give a compliment. The idea that God would GIVE me the death of my mother was further proof of the intimidating, temperamental, hateful God that I had learned long ago to fear (and despise). If that’s his idea of a gift, he can keep that shit to himself, thanks anyway.

I’m trying to rewire myself. I trying to unlearn fear and replace it with grace. I’m trying to come to terms with a world where a loving, all-powerful God and really bad things constantly happening can coexist, because, logically, how can one allow the other? This is a puzzle that I wanted, NEEDED, to understand in order to ever have a positive relationship with God.

After reading a bit and thinking a lot and talking to Dr McK the Preacher-Man, I sort of have a theory. It’s not MY theory — it’s a compilation of many inputs.* It’s not what I was taught as a child, and it’s not what many people believe. But it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.

I don’t believe that God GIVES us cancer. He doesn’t GIVE us heartache and disease and death. He created a perfect world long, long ago — a world that was free of sickness and greed and hurt. He created something that was inherently good.

And then, over thousands of years, the human race has fucked it up. WE — not me, or you, or anyone specifically, but “we” as an entire race — have broken  the perfect, unflawed world that was created for us. Our endless, driving need for more… more technology, more money, more power, more convenience, more material comfort, more stimulation, more, more, more… has corrupted the simple good things that once were. The need for constant growth, and money,  and medical advances, technology, and creature comforts, are all positive things in that they increase the efficiency, enjoyment, and productivity of our environment.  But what’s the collateral damage of progress? You cannot streamline and improve and grow something without altering it.  And after generation upon generation of alterations, what we have no longer even vaguely resembles what we originally started with.  Our food is full of preservatives and hormones, our air is full of pollutants, our little girls are growing breasts at age 8, our world is full of anger and ambition and burgeoning growth. And when the tiniest factor goes awry, the ripple effects are far-reaching and shattering. The result is war, cancer, brutality, and indoctrinated beliefs that are based only on narrow and selfish human emotion.

Why did my mother die of breast cancer? Why do shitty, unexplainable things happen? Because our world is broken, and a broken world cannot produce perfection. It’s just not possible.

And why doesn’t God — this all-powerful, omniscient, loving God — stop these atrocities from happening? Because he shouldn’t intervene. I do not believe that this theory makes him impotent, as some critics claim. For lack of a better word, he technically COULD intervene, but he’s not “allowed” because it would disrupt what is already in motion because of human decision and free will.   Just because you’re physically capable of doing something doesn’t mean that you should always take action. This world has to run it’s course, and has to reach its inevitable conclusion. Although it hurts him to watch us struggle and yearn and fight to survive, he has to allow the cycle to complete itself.

And about the idea of a “cycle”…   What if this cycle that we are a part of — Earth, our world, our decisions and actions — is just one of many cycles? What if there was a cycle before us, and there will be a cycle after us? And each time a cycle completes, God resets everything back to perfection and lets the human race try again. The movie “Knowing” was eerily fascinating… it’s Hollywood’s depiction of God pushing the reset button.

So as for God “giving” us more than we can handle? I call bullshit. Past generations are “giving” this crap to us and we’re “giving” it to our future generations and eventually it’s going to implode. It has to… it can’t continue to function indefinitely on its current path.

And this concludes my happy, uplifting contribution for today. Ok then.

Whew. Happy Monday morning, ya’ll.

*Just in case anyone’s interested, this post was my first attempt to delve into this topic. Then this book by Yancey and this book by Kushner are probably the ones I would recommend, although they don’t necessarily agree with each other.

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Protected: symbolism of the ruffly skirt

June 3, 2009 at 12:28 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , ,

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The right place for right now

May 4, 2009 at 12:42 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , ,

Last week, my father dropped by our house and asked me to step out on the porch so we could talk privately. His opening question was “So Sarah, what about your childhood and me did you not like?”  Um, what? My immediate response was “Did someone tell you to ask me this? Are you reading another self-help book? Are you seeing a therapist? Where is this coming from?” When I let him get a word in edgewise, he explained that he’s been thinking about this conversation from a few weeks ago. Seriously?!? So he was actually listening?!?

So, back to the question: what did I not like about him & my childhood? I took a few minutes to sift through my thoughts, but the answer was pretty quickly summed up in one word — FEAR. I explained to him that fear had ruled my childhood — fear of him, fear of The Church, fear of The Church’s leader, and ultimately, fear of the picture they had painted of a frightening, temperamental, vindictive God. He nodded and listened quietly. When I was done, he said “Sarah, your daddy didn’t know what he was doing. Your daddy was wrong.” As I listened, I knew that after 31 years, we had reached new ground in our relationship… is it just me, or did that sound suspiciously like an apology from my father, the non-apologizer?

Then he continued: “Sarah, I know it’s hard, but I want you to try to separate me and The Church. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I made some mistakes raising you, but The Church is right and you need to believe that.”  And, for the first time in 31 years, I responded honestly: “No, I CAN’T separate you and The Church. And The Church is right for you, not for me. Maybe things will change one day, but right now, I can’t be a part of The Church.”

And then he nodded. No argument, no accusations, no pushing or coercion of any kind. I told him about my talk with Dr. McK. About how Dr. McK had never acted like I was a lesser person because I’m a female. That he’s never even once treated me like I’m stupid or disrespectful for questioning things. And that it’s refreshing and just what was needed at just the right time.

I’ve never, ever, not even once stood up to my father about The Church. This is the first time in 31 years. It may seem like a very small thing to others, but to me, it feels groundbreaking… a really big freakin’ deal. I said no. Go me.

And yesterday, after much, MUCH deliberation, Bobby and I joined the church we’ve been attending during the morning service. My stomach was in knots, but I know that it was the right thing. During the opening hymn, Bobby reached for my hand and whispered “This is it, sweetie, this is the right place for us.” And he’s right… for now at least, it’s the right place for us.

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(over)stimulation

April 16, 2009 at 10:58 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged ,

* Disclaimer: The following paragraphs are not meant to offend, disrespect, or inflame in any way. So if you find yourself feeling offended, disrespected, or inflamed, I really am sorry. No, really.

Life’s gracefulness lost on overstimulated, overtired children

By Ronald Dahl

Each summer, no matter how pressing my work schedule, I take off a day exclusively for my son, to follow his whims (as completely as possible) from the moment he wakes up until he finally gives in to exhaustion. We call it dad / son day.

This year our third stop was the amusement park, where he discovered (at age 9) that he was tall enough to ride one of the fastest roller coasters in the world. We blasted through face stretching turns and loops for 90 seconds then, as we stepped off the ride, he gave a shrug, and in a distressingly calm voice, remarked that it was not as exciting as other rides he had been on.

As I listened, I began to sense something seriously out of balance. Throughout the season, I noticed similar events all around me. Parents seemed hard pressed to find new thrills for nonchalant kids. I saw this pattern in my family, in the sons and daughters of friends and neighbors and in many of my patients with behavioral and emotional problems. Surrounded by ever-greater stimulation, their young faces were looking disappointed and bored. (Click here for full article.)

When I think about the social aspect of my childhood, I have warm, comforting memories that are, of course, all centered around my mother. When I got off the school bus at our little brick ranch house with the black shutters, there was a different smell wafting from the kitchen every day. Mama cooked dinner while I sat on the kitchen stool and regaled her of stories about my day. I sat the table and fixed the drinks, and then the family sat around the kitchen table nearly every evening and ate supper together. Now this wasn’t as idyllic as it sounds — Daddy and I rarely made it through a meal without an altercation. But my father aside, the point is that we ate together regularly. We didn’t have a television in the house, so reading before bedtime was our favorite entertainment. On Friday nights and Saturday mornings, we listened to radio programs… “Adventures in Odyssey” and “Ranger Bill” were my favorites. I can actually still hear the introduction, word for word:

Ranger Bill, warrior of the woodland! Struggling against extreme odds, traveling dangerous trails, fighting the many enemies of nature. This is the job of the guardian of the forest, Ranger Bill. Pouring rain, freezing cold, blistering heat, snows, floods, bears, rattlesnakes, mountain lions. All this in exchange for the satisfaction and pride of a job well-done.

I just checked my memory against the “Ranger Bill Fan Club” website, and I only missed one word. Ridiculous that I can still remember that… Mama used to say that my brain was a toxic waste dump.

Anyway, the whole point of the this conversation is that when I think about my childhood, it’s remarkably similar to how the 1950’s are portrayed in the movies. It’s like the 1980’s never happened at our house. When we hit high school and the teenage years, we suddenly discovered the 90’s (much to our father’s dismay). But the 80’s?… just a blur spent in our little bubble.

So how does this translate into today’s culture? Show me a kid today who would be thrilled about listening to the adventures of Ranger Bill on the radio…. yep, that’s right, you can’t. And I wonder if it’s even realistic to consider raising a child without a television these days? You can limit TV time, but can you function “normally” without it? How do you raise a child to fit in with their friends and be “cool,” yet still maintain some semblance of traditional family interaction?

These questions are more rhetorical than anything… I know that each family dynamic is different, and we’ll find our balance when the time comes. But all this thinking about committing to a church has my wheels spinning. How will this work for my children? How old will they be when they realize that their traditional church experience isn’t the only one out there? Will they feel deprived that their friends get to go to the “cool” church with the cool music and cool preacher and cool lights & video, and they have to go to old boring church? Or will the pendulum swing back eventually toward a more traditional form of worship?

Bobby and I got to our meeting early last night, and watched the stream of Wednesday night churchgoers file out of the fellowship hall. There were tons of seemingly happy families, with kids ranging from very young to about 15 or so. Do those families have fights on Sunday morning about whether to go to “boring-church” or “cool-church”? Is cool-church serving a great purpose in that it’s reaching our young people? Or is cool-church overstimulating them to the point of total spiritual insensitivity? Will they get to the point where they NEED that stimulation to get their attention? What if it gets to the point where quiet reflection is no longer an option? Won’t their classrooms then be in the same “boring” category as boring-church? Could this be a contributor to what seems to be a sudden increase in ADD, hyperactivity, and other behavior-related diagnoses? I know that’s a huge claim, which is why I’m not “claiming” it… I’m simply thinking aloud.

I’ve heard many people say that they’re choosing a church based on their kids — “they have the best children’s programs,” or “it got my kid excited about church,” or “I wouldn’t go here if it wasn’t for my kids.” Maybe I just don’t get it because I’m not a mom yet. But the fact is…. I just don’t get it. Where is the line between parents guiding children and children guiding parents?

Once, when I was 11 or so and Jennifer was 7ish, we spent some time at our “proper” grandmother’s house. My dad’s mom was/still is a little bit intimidating. She’s a retired English teacher, and has never relaxed her grammatical expectations. She’s very proper and refined, doesn’t approve of gum-chewing, and wears big pearls. She is the epitome of a Southern lady. On this particular afternoon, she was keeping us for a few hours. After an hour or so, Jennifer planted herself in the spinning, rocking armchair in the den. Using her feet to push off the floor, she began spinning faster and faster until she just became a blur, while chanting “I’m booooooooorrreddddd!  I’m boooooooooorrreddd!” at the top of her lungs. Grandmama told her stop spinning and informed her firmly that in her house, “bored” was a bad word and she wasn’t to use it again. Years later, Jennifer and I still laugh about “bored” being a bad word. But it’s not until recently that I began to understand where Grandmama was coming from.

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The “talking about joining” meeting

April 16, 2009 at 8:48 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged ,

Just got home from our “talking about joining” meeting with the preacher-man, to whom I will refer from now on as Dr. McK. Again, I so like him. Really, REALLY like him. He’s smart and open and well-spoken and thoughtful and patient with my lists of questions. He really listens, instead of just waiting until I finish talking so he can give me the canned, “right” answers.

He explained much — for example, this church is affiliated with the Coop.erative Bap.tist Fellowship rather than the South.ern Bap.tist Convention. As a non-Bap.tist, I had no idea exactly what that meant, so I had to come home and do some reading… after doing a comparison, I’ve realized that this is a very good thing for me.  I don’t think I’d be a very good South.ern Bap.tist. He said that there’s no membership “rulebook,” which appeals to me mightily. I grew up with a rulebook implanted in my head, and would prefer not to raise my children the same way. The phrase he used that stuck with me was “exploration, not indoctrination.” Well said, Dr. McK.

So yeah, I think I’m ready to do it. The whole thing.

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oozing productivity

April 15, 2009 at 9:13 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , ,

I’ve been ridiculously productive for the last few days. I brought in sprigs of dogwood and pink fluffies off the front yard tree and scattered them through the house…. so it’s spring inside too!

Organized the attic, which was kind of a big deal. There’s now a wide center aisle all the way to the back. Designated a yard sale section so we can start working toward our next sale. Put the vast amounts of Christmas stuff in one section — we have about 20 of those huge tupperware storage containers, and they’re all full of Christmas!… good thing we have a fairly large attic.

And… (drum roll, please)…. I taught myself to use my sewing machine! Yep, finally, after months of it just sitting there, I set it up and sat down with the instruction manual. Made cafe curtains for the master bathroom. Even figured out how to do grommets. And since I was feeling all motivated, I also made three throw pillows — one for our bed, and two for the living room. Curtains for the kitchen are next, as soon as I find the right fabric.

Also worked through our office turned nursery turned junk room. For the last 7 months, that room has been an unbelievable disaster… after the D&C, I didn’t even want to go in there, so I would just stand at the doorway, toss crap in, and slam the door. Nice, huh? So I made a path through there, threw tons of stuff away, put some in the newly organized attic, and just generally tried to restore order. We’re planning to put in a built-in bookcase, then give the entire room a fresh coat of paint. A fresh start, if you will….

Bobby and I have decided to officially start trying to get pregnant again next month. It’s time for us to start moving again. I’m not telling anyone IRL. And, when/if we get pregnant again, we’re thinking about not telling anyone IRL for the first trimester. Bobby and I just want to keep it to ourselves this time… we’ll see.

Oh, and also, we have our “talk about joining” meeting with the preacher tonight after Dr Jerry.

See? Productivity is simply oozing from my pores, I tell you.

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Church Membership… can I do it?

April 10, 2009 at 11:25 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged ,

It’s storming like a beast here… rain, thunder, lightening, the whole shebang. I kinda like it — I’ve always loved thunderstorms. When I was little, I used to sneak out of the house and stand in the front yard, staring into the sky until Mama realized I had escaped again and demanded that I come in. I remember one time though, that she came out there with me, and we just stood in the yard with the thunder until we were soaked.

I’m making peace with “the news” that I’m still not able to tell ya’ll… sorry, I promise I’ll divulge as soon as I can. I no longer get the sick, sinking feeling when I wake up in the morning and remember. And I’m no longer sobbing intermediately without provocation. That’s an improvement, right? Yeah, thought so.  And a special thanks to all you fellow “uglies” out there… thank you for sharing that I’m not alone in my uncontrollable hatefulness.

So about church — I really, truly like the church that Bobby & I have been going to. A couple of weeks ago, we decided to try Sunday School. A little background: I’ve never done Sunday School. The Church I grew up in didn’t have Sunday School… the thought was that children shouldn’t be coddled, and should be disciplined enough to sit through a hr-long sermon without wiggling, squirming, or any entertainment (some kids were allowed to have coloring books & crayons, but ole Marty made sure that his daughters were fully focused on the sermon). Anyway, I digress. Bobby and I decided to try Sunday School, and I confess, I didn’t like it initially. It felt forced — lots of big questions and serious discussion topics crammed into a 50-min time period with strangers, concluded by a schoolhouse bell indicating that time’s up. But I’ve often been one to make snap judgments, so agreed to try it again… and I liked it much better the second time. Maybe I just needed to adjust my expectations — I’m not sure what I was expecting, but once I made an effort to be open, it was much better.

Bobby and I are probably the youngest ones in our class, and we’re definitely the only ones without kids… I told Bobby that although I feel a bit disconnected, I would rather be the youngest than the oldest. And these are really nice, really friendly people who hopefully can provide mature friendships, guidance, and maybe even some baby advice when the time comes.

So this past Sunday, I took the plunge and checked the “interested in joining” box on my little registration form. (I know, what’s up with churches having registration forms?… that would have definitely thrown me off a few years ago, but I’m ok with it these days – am looking at it as just a nice, little organizational tool.)  Church membership is a foray into the unknown for me…. more than anti-Sunday School and anti-women’s rights and anti-pants/makeup/jewelry/movies, The Church was and is anti-church membership. As a result, I’ve resisted it for years. Was taught — and thoroughly believed — that attending church is about a relationship with God, not signing on the dotted line, and church membership was a tool of Satan to lull unbelievers into a false sense of security brought about by belonging to a social club. But things have changed. I’ve changed. I’ve reached a point where I really want to commit to something bigger than myself. I need guidance and structure and spiritual leadership, and I’m not arrogant enough to think that I can do it alone. I want to be a part of a community. Not just a community, like my street community or the museum committee community, but a community based on something bigger than me.

And my completely shallow self really, REALLY loves the inside of the church… it’s absolutely, stunningly beautiful. That’s the Mama in me… I just couldn’t join a church that wasn’t aesthetically pleasing.

So Bobby and I are going to sit down with the pastor next week, and talk about what church membership means. I’ve never been a member of a church, so it should be interesting.

Part of me worries that I’m being rash… after all, I’ve only been doing this church thing for a few months. Am I ready to commit? Should I wait a few more months and make sure I still like this church? Should we try a few more churches just to confirm? But I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m in limbo. And anyway, we’re just talking about joining… we’re not actually taking the plunge just yet.

Sometimes I really do look around and wonder how I got here. The t-shirts say that life is good. I’m more of the opinion that life is just plain weird.

And this is totally unrelated to anything, but I’d now like to share a picture of my favorite front-yard tree (I have a favorite back-yard tree, too, that’s not pictured). Isn’t it lovely?

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