Random

Common Sense when Speaking Please

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Please indulge while I rant for a moment on basic etiquette and common sense.

As I’ve told you before, I am happily pregnant with my fourth little munchkin. The second trimester is so much easier than the first in many ways, but I’m encountering a new phenomenon that I don’t think I noticed the last three times around. As my baby bump is growing, I am finding that the comments I am receiving from the peanut gallery are growing and some of them are a little baffling.

I am perfectly fine with people commenting on the fact that I am showing or (hopefully) how adorable I look. I can even (in most instances) tolerate the occasional belly rub. Still, I wonder what is going through the minds of those who choose to use words like “huge” and “fatty” in reference to how an expecting mommy looks. I’ve been told, “You’re HOW far along?” while eyes roll and gravitate back and forth between my face and stomach. Or there’s the ever so popular, “Are you sure there’s only ONE in there?”

I was so grateful for the fellow mom that happened to be standing next to me yesterday at church and said “I always showed right away too” in response to the man who was telling me if I’m already this huge I’m certainly going to be REALLY HUGE by the time I deliver. I could tell in his face he was genuinely trying to be nice, but still…not too brilliant.

It seems to me that there is a certain insanity among those who would say insulting things to a woman whose hormones are raging in such a way that you never know how she’ll react. I usually possess enough self-control to push down the impulse to punch them or snap back irrationally, but I can’t promise that my strength will prevail every time. I admit that it is making me cranky! Maybe writing it all out here will alleviate some of the frustration and return me to a state of “normal”…at least that’s what I’m hoping for.

I made a decision at the beginning of this adventure that I would wear my baby belly proudly and I will continue to show off my HUGE-ness with a smile. However, please say a quick prayer that I don’t deck any poor, unsuspecting, well-intentioned but extremely misguided, blabbermouth who happens to call me fatty on the wrong day. 🙂

An Angel in Sock Monkey Slippers

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She’s an angel in sock monkey slippers.

Her smile amazes me.

She sees the world in color without fear of what others may see.

She’s come along way since her little blond curls and her belief that apples made her superman.

She’s stronger than most and wiser than her peers.

She’s brilliant and discerning.

She’s conquering her fears.

 

She’s an angel in sock monkey slippers looking for the right angle.

I love her determined focus when she sees an opportunity.

I love her sense of humor, her integrity, the sound of her laughter.

I’m very proud of the young woman she’s becoming.

 

She’s my angel in sock monkey slippers.

We can drive each other mad at times.

Still, I love our time together, fake accents and spontaneous singing.

I love talking with her about random things.

I love that I get to be her mom.

Dream on Sock Monkey!

 

 

On Changes and Eggs

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I love to get a good deal. It’s almost a hobby. I say almost, because the truth is, I’m only obsessive about it sometimes and then I get bored. I guess I’m like that in a lot of areas, but I digress. One deal I recently ran into allowed me to get several new magazine subscriptions for free! Big smile!  FREE!!!!  (Mental picture of me standing on my dining room table screaming “Freedom” William Wallace style…don’t worry I didn’t really do that). I snagged some magazines for my hubby and a few that I’d never read but seemed relatively intriguing. I totally dig reading and sometimes crave the randomness found in a magazine so I was thrilled.

The crazy thing that I’m realizing though is that as I peruse through the articles before me, I find myself inspired in so many different ways. I’m instantly ready to try something new. Not earth shattering, morality, changing kind of stuff of course. As everyone who knows me can tell you I’m stubborn and opinionated about virtually everything of importance. Rather, I’m ready to try new things in the mundane areas of my life. I’m willing to completely reinvent my hairdo on a whim or change my wardrobe just to experiment. I’ll want to redecorate my house for no reason, other than maybe the kids left a mess so rather than just clean it, I’ll redo it ALL.

Maybe I should find some crazy art deco piece at a garage sale and paint the house to match or use it to inspire a new outfit or cut up an old outfit and sew it back together with remnants from other outfits to catch the spirit of the piece that so uniquely expresses me…or who I want to be.

I realize this sounds incredibly crazy. But the beauty of it is found in the fact that I am allowed to be who I am. I am free to be ME and I guess a part of me is still unburying who that really is from under my former life. I try not to talk too much about my past, but the truth is, here on the other side looking back I gain so much perspective and appreciation for where I am now.

I had an epiphany last week while stealing eggs from my husband. I cannot make that sentence make sense without a little bit of back-story, so indulge me.

My ex husband was extremely controlling (understatement alert). I wasn’t allowed to eat certain foods because he didn’t like them. That even sounds weird to me as I type it, but it was my life. Rather than fight and suffer the consequences of arguing with him, I ate my eggs scrambled for TEN years! (There were a myriad of other issues far more extreme than this that led to our divorce – disclaimer – I didn’t divorce over eggs…moving on). After the wedding, so many things that were uniquely me were forced into isolation. I had to hide who I was in so many areas for so long that I cannot describe the freedom that comes with being able to breathe again.

My daughter once told me that when I started dating my husband, there were things she thought were an act for his benefit that she later realized were actually the real me who she’d never known. A sad and scary sentence but it is so true. I am now a completely free woman who is married to her hero and best friend and who can eat her eggs any way she likes, which brings me full circle.

Last week, James was eating his breakfast and I stole a bite of his eggs (cooked over medium) and remembered that my entire life, minus ten ridiculous years, I ate my eggs over medium and now I am free to eat them that way again.

I can also wear clothes that I like. I can keep my hair short, long, medium, wavy, straight or in a bun. I can sing as loudly as I want in my own home. I can rearrange the furniture or paint the kitchen or cook for hours. I can work or clean or write or read or play my guitar without repercussions. I am FREE!!!

I’ve also learned that allowing myself to hide from who I am is insulting to me and to God who made me just like this and who cares about my silly thoughts. He loves me for me. My husband loves me for me. I am happy.

Movement

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This morning when I woke up, the outer bands of Isaac were still making their way across Southwest Florida. It was beautiful. We slept peacefully last night to the sound of the rain. School was cancelled so we didn’t have to get up at five AM which was a plus.

I looked out the window and saw strips and gatherings of clouds scattered across the sky moving as if with a mission setting off to find their allies. They are still moving quickly, leaving enough space between them to let small banners of sunlight peek through.

I am praying for those on the other end of the Gulf Coast who may be impacted far more than we were. I pray that Isaac will dissipate completely before ever reaching land.

The thing that keeps striking me this morning though is the movement. When I opened the Bible this morning, the first scripture jumping off the page at me was Isaiah 55:10-11 “For as the rain comes down and the snow from heaven, And do not return there, but water the earth and make it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the earth. So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth. It shall not return to me void, but it shall accomplish what I please and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.”

I keep looking out the window at the clouds moving by like an army marching to battle. I can’t help but stare at the canal behind my house where the water is moving faster than ever; drops marching collectively as if to the cadence of a masterful drummer. That’s how His word is. It’s sent forth with a specific purpose into the earth. Every word designed and precisely ordered to accomplish what He pleases.

We are going to be held accountable for our words. Are the words we speak designed to produce life or do we merely speak just for the sake of talking? Are we diligent about loving the lost or are we quick to use our tongues as swords against them?

I pray that my actions, thoughts and words are in cadence with the rhythm coming forth from the throne of God. I pray the words of my mouth and meditations of my heart would be acceptable in His sight. (Psalm 19:14) Perhaps as we move in purpose, it will make way for His light to shine through the shadows.

Even though the rain must fall from time to time, His light is always there enveloping the earth with warmth and abundance. His love invaded the earth to overthrow sin and death that once held us captive. I, for one, desire to follow Him to battle and help to release the prisoners of war still bound and longing to taste freedom. I pray my actions and my words always reflect that.

Our words should be like water to the thirsty soul. Our mouths should be carriers of truth to the parched earth below. We should see life and good fruit from what we say and do.

Isaiah 55 also says that His thoughts are not our thoughts and His ways are not our ways. I know His ways are so much higher than ours yet I can’t help but desire that His desires would become my desires. I want to think like He does and connect with His heartbeat. I know that so often I am not tuned into His cadence and His voice. I am thankful that He brings the occasional windy, rainy, storm to come along and recapture my attention.

Of Life and Pinatas

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My son just turned six as you can see by my previous post “Birthday Thoughts from a Mushy Mom”. In typical “mushy mom” fashion, I let him convince me that he NEEDED a piñata to celebrate properly. Even in the store while purchasing said piñata all I could think about was America’s Funniest Home Videos and how it seems nothing good can ever come from such a thing…which led to my thinking about how on earth I could convince my husband to help in this activity as usually it’s the man assisting who ends up getting whacked in conspicuous places.

My husband and stepfather proved to be very wise men. They configured a pulley system of sorts from which to hang the piñata while providing ample distance between them and the onslaught of small people swinging bats. This also provided the perfect opportunity to mess with the youngsters by moving the piñata at random times thus disorienting them. You can watch what happened as my nephew Malachi stepped up to bat in the following video

We spent a lot of time laughing that day and I’ve watched all of the videos I took of all of the kids taking a whack at it, and I’ve laughed some more. Still, the last couple of days it’s gotten me thinking…

I can’t help but think that often I’m just a kid with a bat swinging randomly hoping for contact. God’s watching and probably laughing at me from time to time. Maybe He’s even moving the piñata occasionally to see if I’ll stay centered & listen for the sound as the prize inside swishes around.

We all have blindfolds on. Maybe it’s just the concept that we see through a glass dimly until we see Him face to face. Maybe it’s just that we allow things to get between us and Him and cover our eyes. The biggest tragedy isn’t when we can’t see, it’s when we don’t listen. He that has an ear, let him hear.

The kids eventually succeeded in breaking open the piñata and enjoying its spoils and so will we as long as we patiently endure. “And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise.” Hebrews 6:15

Lord, help me to keep swinging and listen carefully.

I wonder

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I wonder if there is a haven for lost poems deep in the recesses of time…some magical place of calm & noise all jumbled together to form meaning.

I wonder if there’s a mystery to the soul that will never be solved until we meet our maker and then in His light, all will become clear, like a translucent breath given form and substance beyond its particles.

I wonder if there are places where two & two add up to three.  You know…like me & you & we.

I wonder

I wonder at wonderful and it’s subjectivity, how the universals collide with perspective to form the moment when “it is good”

I wonder what happens to our dreams when we wake

I wonder what the substance of a prayer looks like from heaven and if mine have created something of beauty or a blob of selfish ambition. I pray the former. Still I wonder

I wonder about today, if I’ve lived it well or if it’s joined the overflowing tombs of the wasted.

I wonder if God allows “the wasted” to resurface in the mind & heart of those who are quick to hear.

I wonder if I can join that number & revive the moments of truth I’ve squandered.

I wonder if I should stop writing now, if maybe I’m digging too deep and will be found buried tomorrow beneath the pebbles of thought that pile to gravel in my head.

I wonder if this makes sense at all.

Some things I may never know…still I wonder.

A Day Without Zombies

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I haven’t written much this week, which is unusual for me. I haven’t been able to. It’s not the ideas or inspirations haven’t come. It’s not that the words haven’t rolled through my brain singing “Crazy Train” while plummeting frantically to the caverns of lost thought below. It’s really been a joint effort between life and confusion, each one vying for my time, sucking at my mind with their imbibing tentacles. They long for me. They long to steal away the moments of vision and clarity as they once did. I’m not easily shaken. Not anymore.

This week I’ve realized how truly blessed I’ve become. That seems a strange thought in the midst of the situation that presented itself which I cannot share with you, but trust me, it was a doozy! I realized that I’ve come to a place where problems (real problems) are rare. That is such a miracle since I once lived a life in which problems (real mind blowing, “how much more can I possibly take” problems) were the norm.

Then you sink to uncomfortable numb. Feelings stop so survival can take over. Your heart beats, you breathe but laboriously in an effort to dim the panic. Breathe in, breathe out. Hide the heart another day until maybe it just disappears. Who needs emotion anyway? My place in life is among the zombies, walking dead with no heart (excerpt from poem called Zombie I wrote in 2009)

Now those days have passed and I am alive. No longer the zombie I wrote about in old poems. I am fully awake. I am free.

So this week, though life hit hard, I find myself thankful. I’m not thankful for the circumstances. I’m not thankful for the pain. But I’m thankful that I’ve entered the realm of the living. I’m thankful that I merely have a problem instead of my entire life being fraught with a myriad of problems. I’m thankful that I am confident in the God whose brought me through so much before and will bring my family through this situation with good in store. I’m thankful that no weapon formed against me or my family can ever prosper or succeed. My confidence is in a BIG God.

I’m grateful for the promise of tomorrow, a future and a hope. I’ve always believed and held tightly to that promise. But now, I’m thankful for the promise of TODAY…knowing that God is with me. The creator of the universe holds my hand and loves me deeply, passionately, and furiously. I am overwhelmed by the wonder of it. I am captured by the enormity of its effects. It leaves me breathless. 

Today I am fully alive. 

 

Sunset

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What do you even call the color where all the shades & hues of the spectrum collide and meet  in the middle of the sunset? It corresponds with the nature of soul and spirit itself, a mixed kaleidoscope of beauty; inspiring, inviting, connecting to the core of me. It slides and fades; brightens and deepens in mere seconds. It’s just like your voice, a constant of brilliance, a myriad of excellence, a conglomerate of majesty before me. It breathes in and out freedom and wonder, intimacy and radiance. You sing and I am new.

The waiting world holds its breath now eagerly anticipating that moment… that flash when you speak. Explosions of color emanate from your mouth. You breathe and we live. Then when the fire of your glory touches the earth, light transcends shadow. Meaning surpasses the coming night. The promise of morning looms heavy in the salty air.

Brilliance becomes you. Color and light grasp in vain to describe you. You are vast.

Speak Lord, I am listening.

Color meets Sea

Collision

Good Morning

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The sun is higher in the sky now. The grass is glistening like a crystal blanket covered by the dew brought to sustain it. The birds sing their cheerful melodies. In harmony with one another, they dance across the sky to their own serenade.

The squirrels are always busy. They find their joy in the simplicity of the scurry. They race back and forth awaiting the prize of a morsel nestled somewhere in the dirt like a long sought after treasure…the scurrying pirates of the yard. ARRGH!

The trees barely move at the gentle prodding of the wind.

The wind is apparently exhausted after the storms of the past few days and is taking the morning off. It has carried away with it all of the clouds, leaving the sky a pale shade of vibrant blue with no obstructions left to block its exhibition.

The morning is alive all around me as I sit at my window with my coffee.  All I can do is smile.

Prayer of Peace

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I always thought of peace in the still, the calm of the water as it sits like glass; so pure you feel like it could hold you. Maybe there’s peace there. But as I sit here listening to the babbling of the brook, the trickling as the water flows gently over rock, white tops bouncing playfully as creek meets stream, I see a peace I’ve never known.

Maybe that’s just another way your peace passes our understanding. We expect peace in the still when noise is dimmed to silence, when movement fades to freeze. Yet greater peace is found in the chaos. It’s in the way the water goes whichever way you send it, the way the speed increases as the path narrows. Yet the whole time it’s guided by the boundaries you’ve set in place. The banks were built to hold it, the boulder sent to divert it, the tree limb sprouting aimlessly out of rock like a mystic, misplaced giant. 

There’s a comfort there in the noise, the splash, the motion. There’s an alcove ahead where the water rests, if only for a minute. It pools with the other drops around it lazily descending toward the next narrow place where it will flow further down the mountain. There’s a safety in knowing that you guide the mountain. You hold the stream. You bring the melody I sing to the sway of the trees you created. You’ve given us this moment. You’re romancing me.

As I leave this place and find myself back in the clamor and commotion of life, let this moment sustain me. Let me remember that you are holding me.

Without the noise, there’d be no music. Without the movement, we’d be stagnant. Without the narrow, we’d never be sharpened and grow.

You are my peace.

Jaimie Dandridge