Bad poetry

the bottom of my soul
is a deep dark hole
Grimy slimy things
that don't like the light
slither grasping holding
my pain their delight

Like a flash of lightning
seen from afar
You wait
For me
And I run

While reading Pioneer Woman's blog, I followed her link to a new company called Wild Olive Tees. I want one. I don't usually like Christian Tees. They are usually really cheesy. These are not. I think they are quite lovely. When they get the classic tee shape up and going I want to get the "rooted." one. I like trees. I also really like the "transform your mind" one. So, check them out.

Voices and Breakthrough

In the past several years I have struggled to find my voice in my writing. I hear the voice in my head, distinctive, yet it never comes through on paper. Instead I get stilted words and meaningless phrases. And what could be a thing of beauty becomes a tangled wreck. I cannot tell you how many times I have begun rewriting my novel, struggling to find the right place and voice to start it. Each time I get closer to what feels right, yet I cannot find peace in it. So I put in on the shelf while I let the Lord lead me further into this dark night of mine. My secret hope being that I will find my voice and will put to paper the beauty I see in my head.

Today, I read a book by an author with a strong voice. An author I particularly like for the dreamy quality of her works. When I finish one of her books it is like waking from a lullaby. With the cadence of her writing dictating the flow of my thinking, I began to think of the naming of things and then of voices. And I was shown, with sudden clarity, my voicelessness. Not just in writing, but in my life. Since I was a child I have seldom spoken for myself. I have floated through life, unspeaking. Unwilling to put voice to my needs or wants. Yet needing and wanting nonetheless. Going with the flow while making silent protest by wearing gaudy socks. Assimilating myself with the nearest person, soaking up their personality to the detriment of my own. And in these friendless years of desert wandering I have forgotten all those who came before. And I am stripped bare of voice, of personality. Nothing remains but half remembered glimpses of people I used to be. Yet who am I? Embarrassed by my lack of self, I hide. Voiceless, I listen to other voices that tell me I am nothing, until I am nothing. A snail, hiding in my shell.

But there is a flame, that draws me, calls me. And I peek my head out from under my wing to see if I am straying from the path, and I correct my course. I stumble and fall again and again, until I must keep my head up or fall to the side. And still that voice draws me out from myself, from my hiding place. And I feel exposed, raw, and new. Still wandering, but with greater purpose. Watching, waiting, hoping to see my self along the way. Yet what little remains of me continues to be stripped away and I panic. Clinging blindly to the shreds of me that remain, only to cast them off when I see how ugly and futile they are. But He is faithful, even when I am not. I have asked for His judgment, and He has judged me. He has shown me that my silence is pride. And my pride is fear. And my fear is sin.

He is faithful to forgive me. He heals my wounds and gives me strength. And I begin to see that my voice should be His. Until I surrender the desire for my voice, He cannot give me His. Lord, take the voice I cannot find and replace it with one of Your making. Let it be an instrument of your love, a mouthpiece for your justice. Infuse it with the power of Your Spirit and Truth. Let it be holy and pure. A light for a dark world.

Vulnerability

What does it mean to be vulnerable? Vulnerable is defined as
1)Susceptible to physical or emotional injury
2)Open to censure or criticism; assailable
3)Liable to succumb, as to persuasion or temptation(thank you dictionary.com)

A friend and I had several discussions on vulnerability this past weekend, thus here are my meandering thoughts on the subject. What keeps us from being vulnerable and is it a bad thing to be "open to censure or criticism?"

I think when you are vulnerable with someone you are giving them a gift. In the lovely words of Karen Peris, you hold my heart and your fingers are shaking, don't drop it. You are trusting them with your heart. It is a scary thing to do. There are no guarantees that they won't drop it on the floor and step on it with contempt. And if this happens to us, once, twice, or multiple times, then we begin to fear and we withdraw our hearts from circulation. Then our fear turns to pride, and we say we don't need anyone.

Then sometimes we realize that this is an unpleasant way to live. We repent, open ourselves up until we get stepped on, then the cycle continues. Eventually our hearts are hardened to the point where we can no longer even accept love that is freely given, the love of Jesus. Thankfully, he cares too much for his sheep and will go after the one who is lost.

But what benefit is there to being vulnerable to others? I don't know if there is a benefit for others, but the benefit for us is that we are not sinning by being prideful, or living in fear. We are also run the risk of living a life of blame and unforgiveness. Also sin.

The last few years I have been contemplating I Corinthians 13(amplified).
4Love endures long and is patient and kind; love never is envious nor boils over with jealousy, is not boastful or vainglorious, does not display itself haughtily.
5It is not conceited (arrogant and inflated with pride); it is not rude (unmannerly) and does not act unbecomingly. Love (God's love in us) does not insist on its own rights or its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not touchy or fretful or resentful; it takes no account of the evil done to it [it pays no attention to a suffered wrong].
6It does not rejoice at injustice and unrighteousness, but rejoices when right and truth prevail. 7Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fadeless under all circumstances, and it endures everything [without weakening].
8Love never fails [never fades out or becomes obsolete or comes to an end].

My desire is to love as He loves. To ooze love from my every pore. I have a long way to go. But, over the past year he has me standing for the part that says "it takes no account of the evil done to it[it pays no attention to a suffered wrong]." Every time I have suffered a wrong, he reminds me of this, and he offers me the choice to forgive and forget. Now it has become almost automatic. Sometimes I do find myself harboring anger, and it saddens me. That is not His best for me. But what has really surprised me, is how by forgiving, I am opening up my heart to be more vulnerable. Because I am choosing not to live in the pain of rejection, I need not fear rejection. Not that I succeed in this at all times, but often enough to change my life.

As much as it pains me to say it, I am not nearly as vulnerable as I would like to be. I still guard my heart in certain situations, but guarding my heart is different from closing it completely. I think we often think that being vulnerable means that we have to tell everybody everything about ourselves. We have to be completely open. I am not sure of this. Some things are best left between you and perhaps one or two others. It is the reason for non-disclosure that I think is important. Will it diminish someone in other people's eyes? Will it cause another brother to stumble. Or are you just embarrassed. If I am afraid of having people know things about me because it will be embarrassing, then maybe I need to think about it some more. Am I just being prideful?

When we are vulnerable we are able to ask for the help we need. Sometimes the Lord keeps us from seeking help because He is teaching us to seek Him first, but sometimes He sends us people to help us and hold us accountable.

Now He seems to be teaching me to live out the love is not self-seeking part. I will be vulnerable here and admit that I really stink at this. But my heart wants it enough to make me keep praying for the grace to live a self-less life. Being a mother requires a certain selflessness which I am often not very gracious about, but it is a selflessness that can't really be helped. What I am talking about is truly giving over every moment that we want to take for ourselves and giving it to others. It could be to your husband, wife, friend, children, the people at the old folks home, etc. It's not a fun thing to learn to do. I am selfish and I get tired when all I do is fulfill everyone else's needs, while my own are ignored. I am trying to look at my life with a heavenly perspective. It's pretty ugly looking down on myself. I have such a long way to go. What I must do is let go of the fear that my needs will not be met. This is a very real fear for me. But I have a Good Father, who not only loves to give good gifts to His children, but also promises that I will not suffer from want.-(matthew 6:25-34). well, my husband is home, so I am going to put my words into practice and leave what I want to do(keep blogging) to do what I should do and give him a big hug and give my family their dinner.

Midnight Thoughts

(this post was written after another that has since been deleted that talked about teen angst)


I think I have moved a little beyond my teenage angst. I have found my creative outlets. I have learned to recognize when I am becoming overly melancholy and no longer allow myself to revel in it. I have also learned that my melancholy is not always in my head, but my body looking for something it is missing, like protein or water. I have learned to be content whether or not I have friends.

I wasn't exactly the lonely girl who wore black all the time, but I lived between three worlds. School, Music, and Church. I had my school friends and my church friends, and then I had my musical life(I played the flute). There was only one person from my school that I ever hung out with outside of school and that was only for a brief period. My church life was by far my greater reality. Music was somewhere in between. My closest school friends and my church friends didn't really relate to me as a musician. They knew I was in band and that I was good, but it didn't have any real meaning for them. But music was where I had my identity. It was what I was good at. I also wrote reams of bad poetry. I did not keep a journal other than my poetry and letters to my best friend that I would forget to mail. I was afraid to write down what I was actually feeling. I could not give voice to my needs or desires. Looking back, I think this is also the root of my inability to improvise musically. It would mean letting go. I knew I was a time-bomb of emotion. It was going to be messy when I finally exploded, and I didn't want that. I think that there was also a fear that if I did express myself I would be misunderstood. Like when I had to talk at the end of a retreat. You have to answer the question, "What does Jesus mean to you" in front of a bunch of strangers. I was crying out of sheer nerves, not knowing at the time that I pick up on the emotions of the people around me. Sit me in a room with a bunch of girls who have just had a hugely impactful weekend with the Lord, and I will cry. I could hear murmurs in the crowd approving how my feelings for the Lord had deepened as evidenced by my tears, but that wasn't true. I was crying because everyone else felt that way. Other times I have attended this weekend as a worker, I have to explain to people that I am really okay, I just cry because some one else is. Now I know to question my emotions at times, because they may not be my own.

Poor splitcat bore the brunt when I finally exploded. He told me once that one of the first things he noticed about me was my stoicism. Ha ha. So it was very confusing to him why after we started dating I cried all the time. I trusted him, and so I let my feelings out. I was a mess for quite some time. I had not learned how to deal with my emotions. In my first two years at college, music really became my life. And for the first time my closest friends knew me as a musician. I would like to be able to say that I handled the transition well. But the little bit of humility I had as a high schooler disappeared. Having three different lives had been more beneficial than I had realized. But by the end of my sophomore year, I defined myself as a musician, that was where I had placed the largest part of my identity. I was even more of a mess emotionally. I no longer knew how to contain myself. I had lost a large amount of self-control. So of course at this point I got married. :)

The summer before we got married I began to relearn how to keep my emotions in check(mostly I just denied I had any). It wasn't easy and I had to clean up the mess I had made. It wasn't until I had settled into married life that the impact of leaving my musical life hit me. The first year of our marriage I worked full-time and did not go to school. I had tried to find some musical outlets, but they didn't work out, and some of my musical shortcomings became very evident. So I left music totally behind. I was afraid to play in our apartment because I didn't want to make the neighbors mad and I did not feel like I could give lessons. Where I had once been arrogant because of my talent in playing, I suddenly felt that my shortcomings negated any abilities I had. So I struggled with losing my identity as a musician(and student) and gaining an identity as a wife. It hasn't been until the past few years that I have really begun to understand what the loss of my music meant to me. It was truly devastating, but I didn't know it at the time. I just knew that I couldn't listen to classical music anymore. I would hear songs I had played over the music systems in stores and have to shut it out so I wouldn't cry. It was like the world was mocking me. Now I can look back and see how the Lord was merciful to me to take me out like that. Pride does go before a fall. And falling is generally painful. I am thankful that He did not allow me to go on as I was. I am even more thankful that He is beginning to restore the musician part of me.

I went through a number of years where I began stuffing my emotions again. After seeing what a mess they made, I didn't really want anything to do with them. I just drifted through school and work. It was a lot harder to stuff my emotions this time, and I occasionally would explode, but I did my best. Then I had a baby. Talk about an emotional roller coaster. The last 7-8 years have been a confusing blur. Having babies has forced me to confront and deal with my emotions. It has been a really hard lesson to take in. I still haven't graduated, I don't know that I ever will, but I have learned alot about myself and my faith. God has been with me every step of the way. I don't know how people survive without Him. I am at a point now where I am standing on an overlook seeing the trail I have just ascended. It seemed fairly flat and uneventful at the time, but looking back I can see how different trails converged and I can see all the obstacles and how steep the path sometimes was. I can see how my suffering has been a training ground to prepare me for the even steeper and narrower path ahead. I am at a pause and reflect moment before I begin this next phase of my life. I am excited for whatever comes next. I have a map with some landmarks, but no trail marked on how to get to them, so I can't wait to see how the Lord gets me there. It is almost 4 am, so I should go to bed. Thanks for listening.

Here is my tablecloth skirt. I used a Shabby Chic tablecloth from Target. It is a very light-weight and kinda see through cotton, so I have worn it with both a traditional slip and a cotton "petticoat" that peeks out beneath the hem(and I could undo the buttons to show the slip). This is definitely summer wear. I found it in one of my linen storage boxes. Right where it should be :).

I didn't realize that this didn't turn out till I'd loaded it, but if you look closely you can see the ruffled edge. There is also some eyelet lace. This is the true edge of the tablecloth. And yes, those are real buttonholes. I used to make faux plackets and sew the buttons straight on, or put snaps under them Then I got a new sewing machine that does buttonholes.
As soon as I put the skirt on my bed, Kitty thought it looked like a great place to nap. You can see the fabric better here.
With all this talk about skirts, I looked in my closet and discovered that I own 4 pairs of pants. One is jeans, one is a pair of mens dress slacks, one I only wear around the house, and the last is acutally knickers(I love knickers). I was a little shocked. I think I thought I wore pants more because I usually wear men's flannel pj bottoms around the house(with a shirt of course).

Here's my skirts, finally.

I finished my new pattern in about a day. I did an excellent job, I think. My mother always says the inside should look as good as the outside, and I just about got it. I had never done an invisible zipper before, so my back seam looks a little wonky. You can see how the back hem dips down. I'm not sure if I like this, so I may whack it off and re-hem.

Front

Back

Here's my loud skirt. It's from a Vogue pattern. I opted to not make the waistband and just made a casing and threaded it with a ribbon drawstring. I like skirts that have a little give :). What I really love about this skirt is that 1) it has deep pockets on the front seams 2) the hem brushes the tops of my feet 3) it was really easy to make. My mother made one for herself out of fabric that was pink with white polka dots. It looked totally different from mine, but really cute. I like versatility. This length was the "Evening" length, so it would be pretty in more formal fabrics, too.

The UGLY skirt.

See, I told you it was ugly. What, you may be asking yourself, did she wear with this? Usually an offwhite sweater and tights and either my tall brown boots or my brown pilgrim shoes(the kind that have a wide strap and buckle).

I lined it with another sheet.

Oddly enough, we had these leaf sheets when I was little.

I had been looking for some cheap alternative fabrics, and sheets are perfect. I purchased these at goodwill. I also keep an eye out for tableclothes and shower curtains and regular curtains on clearance or at the thrift store. If you like the idea of repurposing items check out Craftster(edit: there are questionable avatars and language here). I got a lot of inspiration there.

So there are some of my skirts.

Skirts

I found a great skirt pattern tonight. I went to hancock's while the girl was at dance. Here it is. I'll have to make it to see if it looks decent on me, but I love the pleated back. The shirt is actually made from a sweatshirt that is remade and embellished. It's a little foofy for me, but cute. The good thing is that it calls for less than 2 yards of fabric, so I can splurge a little and buy good fabric from the quilting store. My favorite skirt I've made, I haven't made more of because it uses over 4 yds. I got lucky and got some beautiful batik on sale, but it still cost about $25. But I've about worn it out. If I remember I'll take a picture of it and add it here. I call it my loud skirt. I'll have to find my ugly skirt and take a picture, too. Yes, I deliberately made an ugly skirt, and wore it proudly when it still fit. I made it from two sheets I found at goodwill from the 70's. I love skirts. I have one in the works that is a noah's ark graphic from the 70's-80's. I was trying to embellish it, but I may give up and just finish it. I also find a lot of satisfaction in repurposing household items into skirts. I have a skirt made from a tablecloth and one from a shower curtain--both were from the Shabby Chic Line at Target. The fabric was just so pretty. I also made the girl an outfit out of the shower curtain. I'll try to remember to put up pictures, because my ugly skirt is truly a wonder to behold.

Foolishness

Sometimes when the Lord is dealing with a particular issue in our life, and really opens our eyes to see, we feel really foolish/stupid/dumb/embarrassed that we allowed ourselves to let that issue go unchecked in our life.

It would be so easy to allow those feelings to trap us in a cycle of despair, wailing "woe is me." The hard part I have found is not in facing/seeing the issue--it's letting it go peacefully.

Because the Lord doesn't show us these things to make us feel bad about ourselves, but because He wants to bring us peace. He wants to draw us closer to Him. Which is incredibly humbling.

I wonder why I hold onto some things as if my life depended on it, when my life really depends on letting it go. In some cases I know why. It is because it is the last pieces of me that I don't share with anyone else. I know it is finally time to let those pieces go, but it feels as though my heart is being ripped out. Which is really a good thing, because every piece that the Lord removes, He replaces with more of Him.


Christ Is My Hope

You can say the word.
Unworthy though I am,
o bread of life,
o bread of life,
I will be healed and come.

Hold me in your arms,
bridegroom of my soul,
o bread of life,
o bread of life,
I will be healed and come.

Christ, Christ is my hope.
Christ, Christ is my light.
Christ, Christ is my hope.
Christ, Christ is my light,
o my light.

I have been afraid
but I’m on the way to this table.
O bread of life,
o bread of life,
I will be healed and come.-

--Karen Peris
the innocence mission
from the album Christ is My Hope

This morning in the car on the way to take the girl to school I heard one of my favorite songs to sing along to in the car. What's Up by 4 Non Blondes. This is one of those songs that just hits me on many levels. (Disclaimer: I don't have any idea what this song is really about, and I don't really know much about the band, so this is just me relating to the lyrics).

Here are the lyrics

25 years of my life and still
I'm trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination
I realized quickly when I knew I should
That the world was made up of this
Brotherhood of man
For whatever that means

So I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed
To get it all out what's in my head
Then I start feeling a little peculiar
So I wake in the morning and I step
Outside I take a deep breath
I get real high
Then I scream from the top of my lungs
What's goin' on

And I say hey...And I say hey what's goin' on
And I say hey...I said hey what's goin' on

And I try, oh my God do I try
I try all the time
In this institution
And I pray, oh my God do I pray
I pray every single day
For a revolution

So I cry sometimes when I'm lying in my bed
To get it all out what's in my head
Then I start feeling a little peculiar
So I wake in the morning and I step outside
I take a deep breath then I get real high
Then I scream from the top of my lungs
What's goin' on

And I say hey...And I say hey what's goin' on
And I say hey...I said hey what's goin' on
And I say hey...And I say hey what's goin' on
And I say hey...I said hey what's goin' on

25 years of my life and still
I'm trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination
**********
Firstly, It's really fun to sing along. I think the girl was quite amused by her mother belting out a song. Secondly, it pretty much sums up how I feel most of the time. I love the lines:

So I wake in the morning and I step
Outside I take a deep breath
I get real high

Because Fresh air is my drug of choice :). And at the same time I experience the thrill of breathing in the world, I'm still screaming inside "What's going on?" Why is the world such a mess, why is my house such a mess, Why am I such a mess?

Fortunately, I do know the answers to those questions. And even more fortunately I am friends with the author of Hope. I always see the light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how desparate I have felt, how miserable, how alone, I know that I have a Hand to help me out of the pit I have dug for myself.

So anyway, I found as I was leaving the school and singing the end of the song, that letting myself go and singing as loud and obnoxiously as I could, felt really good. Freeing even. I found myself giggling and ready to take on the day.

Sometimes I suspect that in some regards I am very repressed. The question is, why do I hide? Is it fear? Is it just the way God made me? Is it pride? Or did I read too many victorian novels as a teenager? I think it may be an issue of control(which is I think a relative of fear).

I seem to be drawing some harsh conclusions about myself.

So as a friendly warning: the next time you pray or sing "Create in me a clean heart" be prepared.

Actually, now that I just said that I must share a little further. On tuesday at bible study when worship began I just sat back and closed my eyes(the lady sings too high for me). And I heard a little girl laugh. The kind 2 and 3 yr olds make when you tickle them or chase them. And I knew it came somewhere from within me. I listened to the laughter and had a picture of a little girl playing with Jesus, I think perhaps he was chasing her(I don't think I need to spell that out any further). And then I heard a gentle voice ask if I was ready to let go. I have been doing alot of sorting in my head the past few weeks-dredging up memories best left alone, memories of anger, memories of hurt. And while I know that dwelling on the past is dangerous, sometimes it is hard to let go of our pain. We think that our pain is what formed us and made us-and to put away those memories is to forget how we became ourselves. But I knew that these memories needed to go to their final resting place. They were only tearing me down (just ask my dh what kind of mood I've been in lately). So when I heard the Lord ask me this, I knew it was time. I spent a few minutes in prayer and what I saw next startled and surprised me. First I saw my heart, but it was really large. Then I saw bubbles on it, then I saw the Lord with a brush, scrubbing my heart. It was getting all foamy. I was reminded of the kind of foam toothpaste makes(and I just had the thought of how toothpaste is an abrasive, and how this whole cleansing process has abraded me-but is leaving me a lot cleaner). I could see that while from a distance my heart looked fine, he was concentrating on the little bits that were stuck in the wrinkles and crevices. Like if you have ever polished a silver candlestick or spoon. The big parts wipe up easy, but there is always some sort of engraving or decoration that stays black until you use just the right brush to reach it. And I was reminded of how sometimes when I am cleaning I can start obsessing about one small thing and work at it for an hour. Like when I tried to do the fly-lady step one and got really obsessed with the minutest spots on my sink. And I knew the Lord was just as obsessed with cleaning those stubborn black spots on my heart as I was with shining my kitchen sink. He's not going to quit until it is cleaned to his satisfaction.

And while part of me inwardly groans and says aren't we done yet? The rest of me is cheering Him on.

Conflict-Part One

Well, here is the much awaited non-frivolous post you have all been waiting for.

My struggles with conflict began simply. I needed more conflict in my novel. There was the larger external conflict that was the basis of the story, but there was almost no internal conflict or conflict between characters. So after some conversations with Val, I decided to first look at how I approach conflict in my own life. The answer, while not terribly surprising, was a little scary. I don't conflict. Conflict sends me into a dizzying spiral of doubt and confusion. It makes my stomach hurt. It makes me want to lay in bed in the fetal position in the dark. It makes cry. So I realized there was a much bigger issue involved than adding conflict to my novel. I was really confronted by my conflict inadequacies when we all piled into the car one day and the girl was in major conflict mode. I looked at splitcat and said, aren't you glad I'm not a drama queen? He looked right back at me and said something to the effect of that he wished I was sometimes because at least then he would know why I was mad and who I was mad at.
That was my second wake-up call. I had apparently taken passivity and conflict avoidance to a new level when my husband wants me to be a drama queen.

My third wake-up call came one day one I was reading a forum. A debate had sprung up, and I had skipped ahead and came across a response that totally shook me. The topic between the writer and one other participant was that silence does not equate unity. I don't have her permission to write out the whole thing, but I will hit the highlights that stuck with me.

1. "Silent treatment" is a form of manipulation
2. Running from conflict is in essence a form of the silent treatment
3. Silence does not promote unity within a family(she describes unity as coming together, being made one) but by discussing or hashing out a problem we know we are seeing only part of the picture(our thoughts and opinions) and know that our thoughts may need adjusting or may even be wrong. And meeting together and putting our thoughts and opinions "out there" helps us make that decision and will ultimately bring us closer as we begin to understand one another even if we do not agree. Even when we agree to disagree "the agreement being walked in is one of coming together with the understanding we are learning and growing, subject to change."

Part of what has contributed to my avoidance of conflict is that I tend to think that conflict arises out of anger.
I long ago took to heart the scripture that says not to let the sun go down on your anger, (Ephesians 4:26). But I recently saw what it says in the beginning of that verse. In your anger, do not sin. Which comes from Psalm 4:4--In your anger do not sin;/when you are on your beds,/search your hearts and be silent.Selah. So then is it okay to be angry? As long as you don't hold onto it and allow the devil a foothold? I think that anger is simply a part of our human nature. It is simply how we choose to deal with that anger that says what kind of person we are. I just looked up anger on bible.com, there were 10 pages of entries from the Old Testament and one from the New. Here are some of them:

Romans 2:8 But for those who are self-seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil, there will be wrath and anger.
1 Corinthians 13:5 It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
2 Corinthians 12:20 For I am afraid that when I come I may not find you as I want you to be, and you may not find me as you want me to be. I fear that there may be quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, factions, slander, gossip, arrogance and disorder.
Ephesians 4:26 "In your anger do not sin" [ Psalm 4:4] : Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry,
Ephesians 4:31 Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.
Colossians 3:8 But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips.
1 Timothy 2:8 I want men everywhere to lift up holy hands in prayer, without anger or disputing.
James 1:19-20 My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.

So in equating anger with conflict, I have simply made the choice to let go rather than defend myself. Some of my readers may be familiar with the Litany Against Fear. I guess I took the idea and made my own Litany Against Anger. I would simply take a deep breath and feel the anger roll off until I could look rationally at whatever the issue was. I discovered that I was usually wrong, or perhaps, I perceived that I was usually in the wrong because my responses were based on emotion rather than logic or rational thought. And while I started out with good intentions, I eventually conditioned myself to vilify my emotions. And this is a terribly slippery slope, eventually leading to me simply not liking myself--because I am a highly emotional person and I had been convinced that emotions were wrong. I have spent so much energy controlling my inner reality, that I lost control of my visible reality. I may get to the end of the day and be completely exhausted from wrestling with myself, but it appears as if I have spent my day in idleness.

So I began avoiding conflict because it drains me.

So thus ends Conflict-Part One.

On a side note--if you like medieval fashion-Karenee left some great links in the comments of my last post.

This is for Karenee who apparently shares my fondness for unusual shoes

Look HERE for the coolest boots ever(scroll down to the 1910 high boots). If I ever have a spare $700 or so lying around, maybe I'll get them. I meant to include them in my last post but I forgot.

Since I am already being frivolous, Here is a question for you. Why do you wear clothes(other than the obvious). Are your clothes an armor against the world? Do you just wear whatever mostly fits and don't care what it looks like? Do you strive to look like everyone else? Does your style change with the years or are you drawn to the clothes that were popular in your youth? Are your clothes a mask?

I look at clothes as costumes to fit my mood. But I do know how to dress appropriately when the occasion calls for appropriate clothing.

When I was a little girl my dream was to own a "Gunne Sax" dress. I got my first one when I was sixteen. Eventually Jessica McClintock stoppped making the Gunne Sax line, but continued under her name. I have worn a Jessica or Scott McCclintock dress for all the big moments in my life. There was the dress for my sister's rehearsal dinner, the evening gown I wore in the Miss Reflections pageant(yes, I was in a pageant--I was the band representative, the girl they really wanted had already been chosen by the chorus), My favorite dress I wore to the Sophomore dinner, then I wore my 2nd favorite for my sophomore recital. And of course my Wedding dress was a Jessica McClintock, as were my bridesmaids dresses. Alas, Jessica's style no longer mirrors my own. But I try to convince myself to lose weight by promising myself a vintage gunne sax from ebay(these are the neo-edwardian and peasant/medieval dresses from the '70's).

My second favorite clothing line was Laura Ashley. What more dso I need to say. Style, grace, sophistication. That was Laura Ashley to me. Alas, they closed all their stores in the US.

In my mid twenties I was introduced to April Cornell. Very similar to Laura Ashley. Alas, those stores also closed. Ooh, but I just discovered they have reopened their website! What you don't realize is that I just called my mom with this exciting news and we spent a while shopping together over the phone. We share similar tastes.

So my writing time is over. The babies are awake and it's time for lunch. I guess my thoughts on clothes as costumes will have to wait. (I bet you'll be counting the minutes until my next post :))

peace and rowboats

Debbie

Well, I see a few people have made their way here. (Waves at Karenee). It's been one of those foggy weeks, so I don't have too much to say. I'm skipping bible study this morning. I have not been feeling well. I've been having low grade fevers again. I went to bed at 8 sunday night and slept until 6:30am. Then took a 2 hr nap in the afternoon. I was sitting on the couch writing, and the next thing I know thirty minutes have passed and I have a crick in my neck. So I went to bed since the twins were napping. I only got up because I had to go to the bus stop. Finally around dinner time I thought to take my temp. What's annoying is that it isn't really high enough to be a real fever, but just enough to make me miserable. I usually have a low body temp, so anything over 98.6 makes me miserable, moody, and gloomy. I took some ibuprofen and it helped a little. I probably need to take some more this morning. I'm feeling excessively tired and foggy.

I had a really bad day on Friday. Thursday night splitcat informed me that he needed me to stay for the homecoming dance on Saturday to help out. I had only been planning to help out before hand then go home. I am currently wardrobe challenged since I gained some weight after the twins were born. I knew I didn't need to dress up, but I did want to look nice since I hadn't met anyone at his school yet. So I looked at 2 malls and found absolutely nothing that fit. Plus at the 2nd mall the children were a little hyper. It is extremely frustrating to try on clothes and have nothing fit, even something as simple as a shirt even though it is in your size. Apparently designers think that all women have a size 2 waist with a 36DD chest and toothpicks for arms and legs. Looking back, I probably had a fever and didn't know it which only contributed to my feeling like crap. So on Saturday I took the kids to walmart and found a shirt that might match one of my skirts for $13.82. And lo and behold, it fit. So I managed to look halfway decent.

The dance went well. But left me even more tired than I already was since I was in charge of keeping the ice and punch filled and watching the food to refill it if needed. I ran around alot. I saw way more teenage cleavage than I ever wanted to. I really wondered how these girls mothers let them out of the house. My mother wouldn't have. The guys all looked nice in their suits. I only saw one dress that was longer than knee length, most were mid thigh. I think I was in college before I wore anything that short. Actually, here's me in the shortest skirt I've ever worn.

This was winter 95-my sophomore year. And the smallest I've ever been. I was so excited because I fit in my roommates skirt, which was a size 6 or 8. It wasn't quite so short on her. This is one of my favorite college memories. We were on our way to a "coffee house" in the cafeteria. I think I was going for the "beatnik" look since it was a coffee house. I drank way to much coffee. My roommate went to bed and I wandered around campus with our friend Scott. He was in love with my roommate. Since it was after 11 we actually had to sneak around campus. Which made it more fun. I remember walking under the naked trees on the front lawn and looking up into the branches which were eerily lit and pretending I was trapped in Tolkien's forest(the one with the spiders(I can't remember the name)). I was pretty high on caffeine. Scott was a cool guy, we had a lot of fun talking about totally random things. I think he was probably hanging out with me because he wanted to know if my roommate liked him(she didn't know-they never did get together). I used to be fun to be around. Especially when I'd had too much caffeine. I would talk about really odd and goofy subjects. I think that is part of me I am trying to find again. The fun me. The me that likes to wear my pink and black converse high tops with striped knee-hi socks in green, orange, yellow and purple. Okay, so that's what I wore to the mall on Friday with a denim skirt and orange shirt. So I haven't totally lost my goofy side. It tends to come out in my clothing choices. These are the shoes I want now. And these. And these. And these. Not your traditional footwear choices for a mother of four. But I really love boots that lace up. I have this weird thing though, where I don't like lace up boots to have zippers. which is why i really like that last pair of boots. So now that I'm treading totally shallow water, and my coffee seems to have kicked in, I need to get some house work done. Even though I'd rather look at shoes.

Tune in next time when I might be discussing Conflict.

Well, I meant to use this blog. I forget it is here. But since it still gets hits, I guess I'll post.

What is Debbie's World? It is the world in my head. I live there most of the time. What does it look like in my head? There are lots of trees and grassy areas where I can sit on a blanket. There are also swings where I can relax and read a book. The weather is frequently, but not always, beautiful and is usually like an early fall day. It's just cold enough to need a light sweater. There is always a playful wind. Every evening the fireflies dance in and under the trees and the smell of honeysuckle wafts gently across the land. Sometimes there are thunderstorms that make the trees shed the leaves they have held onto for too long. When it rains I retreat to the front porch swing and watch the clouds rolling and the lightning flash. In the past few years there has been a lot of fog. I cannot always see my way to my favorite places because they have been hidden from me. And I stumble around in confusion looking for my remembered places of safety. Sometimes when the fog lifts I find that the landscape has been transformed. And I have to find new places. The transformation always makes my world a better place, but there is still the pain that always comes with change.

Sometimes danger lurks like a cat. Hidden in the grass, waiting to pounce the moment it senses weakness. Usually in the midst of those tranforming fogs, when I know change is going on, it strikes at me with it's harshest weapons--my memories. I remember the way things were and rail against the changes I sense being made. But I have learned that dwelling on the past only delays the transformation and keeps me from finding the peace that once prevailed in my world. But there is always hope in my world and the danger is not the killing kind.

So if my world sounds like a place you are interested in visiting, please stop by from time to time.

An Aside: The idea of Debbie's World started when I was in High school. In art class when we had free time to paint or draw I started drawing pictures of trees and random things and titled them "A _______ in Debbie's World." I seem to recall a penguin living there at one time. Then on my 18th birthday, splitcat, who was at the time my best friend(now my husband) drew me a card titled "Lost on the Plains of Seibbed Dlrow" where he borrowed my tree imagery and added his favorite stick figure carrying a bouquet of flowers and wearing a top hat. It gave me hope that Debbie's World would one day have an inhabitant other than myself. We started going out not long thereafter. Over the years I have had a few other visitors, and now it's your turn.

Beginning Again

I thought it would be nice to begin this blog again, as a place to put my thoughts on subjects other than my children.