Once in a Lifetime...

I heard this song in a store tonight. It brought up a million thoughts.

The summer road trip. Good and bad.

River. Ducks? Perhaps not.

Letting the days go by...

Boo.

Lights over the city.

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was.

Poems and ancient books.

The saddest song ever by Lykke Li.

All the parts I never blogged about, the parts still resolving in my heart. Or clanging and clashing. Some things never resolve after all.

Regardless, I am glad for every part of the trip, the good, bad, funny, silly, scary, sad, precious...all of it. It is all a treasure to me now.

Except for maybe that fleabag hotel where I kept my Glock loaded beside me on the nightstand...

Good night all. :)

Nuisance

Have some new thoughts this morning. Spent a lot of time last night thinking, praying, and pondering the words of good friends. Had some important ephiphanies. I feel so important using that word...say it with me...EPHIPHANIES. Big, light-bulb moments, the ones that almost always occur when you are staring out the window bored out of your mind on a long road trip, or in the dead of night and it pulls you straight up in bed, with buzzing in your ears. Yes, those ephiphanies.

1. I am too hard on myself.

Yes, I know if you are my close friend, you have already said this to me about a million times. I did hear you, I promise I wasn't ignoring you. I just struggle with grace. I can dump tons of it on the people around me, even forgiving and forgetting when it is not always healthy for me. But grace for myself is harder. I think many of us struggle with this. Especially if you are a "fixer". I had a conversation a couple of weeks ago with another friend who is a self-proclaimed "fixer" too. We talked about how awful it feels to see those around us hurt when we are powerless to help. Of course we all feel badly when we see pain in the lives of those we love, but for a "fixer" it is different- the inability to stop the pain is crushing to us. Which brings me to Ephiphany numero dos...

2. I take on the emotional symptoms of blaming myself for things I have no control over.

I will give a specific example of this one because I am able to now. A good friend of mine is getting divorced. Technically all is done except for the official word. Some of you saw me crying and attempting incoherent conversation last week after I helped her and her kids move. I couldn't articulate why I was breaking down in sobs...why was I so upset about this? It is a difficult and painful thing to be sure, but it was not MY divorce, nor that of a close family member. There are lots of reasons I was upset, but I think the biggest one comes down to the fact I couldnt' stop it. I was absolutely helpless to make things all better and normal again. And that was crushing to me. This brings me to my last and most important point...

3. My compassion gets me in trouble.

I will give Chelsea Annette Stow the credit for this one- she is the one who articulated this for me so clearly the other night. My compassion is a good thing a lot of the time. I love people. If you know me, you know that about me. I enjoy talking to people. I cherish hearing their stories and thoughts on life, history, cheese, whatever might be on their minds. I feel honored and humbled when others open up to me about their dreams and fears and pain. But many times my compassion drags me in too deep. Like with my dear friend who is divorcing, I hurt for her, her kids and her ex, way more than is healthy or normal. I abhore seeing others in pain. And the closer one is to me, the more my hurt magnifies for their hurt. Am I making sense here? To my own ears, it sounds childish...I can hear some of you thinking...Just don't get so emotionally involved Val. I wish it were that simple, that I could shut it off like a switch at appropriate times. Or just shut it off period. Ron says I have a tender heart. I think I just care too much sometimes, in a way that is not healthy for me. I keep hearing that line from the song Nuisance in my head..."My greatest strength is also my strongest weakness." That is so true of me. This example from last week is just one small example, I have a million more. I was not tasked with saving the world, and we all must hurt to grow. I can't stop the hurt, and I can't take the blame for the hurt unless I did indeed cause it.

I am going to link the song here to end up this blog. It is one of my favorite songs on the planet, and the video just cracks me up and makes me happy. The end is the best- so much truth. If you have already watched it the hundred other times I have posted it on my facebook page, you may skip it today.

Thanks for reading. :)

Melancholy and letting go...

Meloncholy tonight.

Could be the two busted fingers on my left hand. If you follow me on facebook...and honestly, how did you get to this blog if you don't...then you know I fell UP the basement stairs earlier this evening, and landed on my hand in a sickening way. Typing isn't the most comfortable, but the fact I am doing it lets me know my ring and pinkie fingers are most likely not broken. Yay!

Hmm, so where else could this mood be coming from? I think I know.

I want to write about the events of the past couple of weeks, but my stories and emotions are other friends' stories and feelings too this time. I struggle, as always, with sharing WITHOUT sharing. Sigh. If you know me, and of course you do since you are taking the time to read this, you know I do not often hold my thoughts back. I can't say what I am feeling without sharing every thought and emotion in my brain and heart. My counselor and one of my close girlfriends have told me I can be very closed...when I do not want to talk or share, I do not. I guess I agree. Mostly, I think I avoid others when I am upset. I hide. Except in blog form. But if I must be around others, I drop my eyes and do not engage in conversation unless required. I am not this way often, so if you have seen me in hiding mode, well, it must have been a pretty tough day.

So how do I share my heart tonight? Okay, I will make it easy. I hurt for the stupid mistakes I make. I hurt for the people I care about who are hurting tonight. Or maybe they aren't tonight, but they sure were this week. I hurt for the selfishness I have seen this week, again, my burden and the burden of those I love. I know Sunday usually begins a new week, but I am still processing this past one. I must process before I can put it away. Before I can move forward. My struggles and weaknesses are still staring me in the face, asking me how I will respond to them at sun up. My answer to them is simple- I will be stronger tomorrow. I will again be dumping this at God's feet lying in the dark tonight, listening to the wind.

I will end this remembering a friend who used to speak of feeling meloncholy often. I wonder now if it was related to circumstances or an independent state of the heart? I don't have an answer to my friend's meloncholy state of mind, but I think I do understand it better now. For me, I am going to let go. And forgive myself- for the things I did, and the things I could have done and didn't. Jesus knows it and has it all...it is me who is holding on tightly.

Let go Val. Let go.

Thanks for reading. Sleep well.

on writing TODAY...

Gah.

This is how I feel inside when I feel the need to write, the deep unsatisfied feeling that there are words inside of me clawing their way to the surface, but getting plain stuck somewhere along the way.

Double gah!

It is novel writing time today. I dug the very unfinished, barely began, Great American novel with a spiritual slant, out of the depths of my hard drive a little while ago. I had that restless feeling in my gut this morning that always means one thing...I am procrastinating on something. I am a world class procrastinator. And a very honest one too.

Sometimes the feeling comes across as a craving for something. I will raid the kitchen cabinets and nothing looks appetizing. Then I will see my Bible and it will hit the ravaneous spot. Those times I am craving Jesus and haven't been getting my fill.

Other times, it is a nutrient issue. I have been putting off eating my veggies and my body is desparately craving some fiber. Yes, I mentioned honest, didn't I? :)

I will get the feeling when I am putting off making an important decision, phone call, and things of that sort. But the absolute worst is when I have not been writing.

I will dream about my characters. And they are always pissed off at me. Sometimes they chase me or try to throw me in a river. But their message is always the same:

"PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"

Okay, okay. Geesh. I am giving you all some time today.

Having plot issues today. I have some characters I like. Too many characters though. Can't decide on my main setting. I have 5 characters at an airport just hanging out because I can't figure out where to send them or what they are supposed to be doing. I have a madman...well, because every good story has a madman of some sort.

GAH GAH GAH!!

It just hit me I am writing a blog about my frustration over not having anything to write in my novel.

I guess I should be glad I am writing at all.

Okay...glad me.

Maybe I should have someone throw a Jamba Juice wheatgrass shake. That would get the action going.

And what a lovely visual with all that green.

Have a good day all.

Hope in a boat...

I started this blog several weeks ago, but needed some distance from the situations before I could complete it. I am no longer dealing with these circumstances, but the truth I took from living this is something I need to remind myself of, so here it is:



I haven't written in five days...about the longest five days of my life. Since Sunday, including the friend situation I wrote about on Sunday, each day has held a very distinct and stressful event. Except for yesterday, but I spent that entire day in bed, knocked out by some very nice, super drowsy-inducing Theriflu. :) Even though I got about 6 extra hours of sleep yesterday, my body still feels like it needs 10 more.

I can't really speak about the stressful events, but they were very much out of the realm of normal for me. Not money issues, or sibling argument issues, or anything like that. I will call them, "Other People's Drama"... OPD for short. But these other people drug me into their D in a gigantic way. In the biggest and most stressful situation of the week, not only was I drug in, but I was called a liar and a thief. Ouch. And since these were OTHER PEOPLE, I didn't have much control over the situations. There was nothing for me to "own".

I felt I was in a little raft in the middle of an enormous storm, adrift at sea, in pitch black night. With no paddles or motor. Terrified, exhausted, and eventually sick.

It always takes me much longer than it should to figure out the right course of action. I always feel there is much more hope than there really is. Let me explain.

God-hope is always present. He is the maker of the seas and the storms, the winds and the night. He is always in control and will bring hope out of nothing, day out of the darkness.

But man-hope is not always there. Man can't do what God can. Aragorn said in The Two Towers, when the little group of men at Helms Deep were about to face off against ten thousand Orcs, "There is always Hope!" But I believe Aragorn's hope rested on the Hand of Providence as well, and he was not disappointed in his faith when a miracle happened and Rivendell Elves appeared. (That was the movie version- in the books there is a miracle as well, Rangers show up to join the fight at Helms Deep.)

Bad admission: I trust in my man-hope at the start of almost every crisis, in my own strength and wits and wisdom to get me through. It takes me exhausting my own resources before I turn to God's hope. That last statement sounds like I do not have much faith in my God.

But that's not true at all. As I have been picked on about before, we actually moved into our current home, a beautiful and perfect-for-us rental, without even seeing the inside. Is that the wisest way to conduct one's affairs? Probably not. But our apartment at the time had huge levels of mold and we had a great need. I knew God led us to this house, knew it in my deepest gut, and He went before us and worked out every detail. When we did finally see the inside, it was indeed perfect for us.

So my problem is not really my faith. I know God will show up in a big way if I ask Him.

My problem is I don't ask quick enough.

That is a pretty shameful admission for me, as it feels like a lesson in Following Christ 101, when I should be in at least the 400 level classes by now, since I gave my heart to Jesus when I was nine. But there it is.

I could go into why I feel I behave this way, but I won't now. The important thing is to remember to ask today. Today is what matters.

Thanks for reading.

Resolutions

Two blogs in one day? Can it be?

Might be three by the time I am finished. I have so much to say today. And for a writer, that is a very good thing.

Since I already posted about New Year's Resolutions, I thought I should share mine with you all. My most important one for 2011...

I am going to be a writer.

Yes, I know, I already call myself a writer. I do write occasionally. My friend Celeste, who is an accomplished published writer, says one is a writer always, even if one is not currently writing. I wish I could agree with that statement. But my lackadaisical inner self is slowly revolting against the freedom in her belief.

You see, I am a writer who never writes.

I want to. I dream about writing. I stress about my lack of writing, my void of words if I were to sit down and write. But most of all...here it is in all its sad truth...

I am scared and lazy when it comes to writing.

Don't judge me, please.

But something awoke the writer inside of me the other night. Jolted me out of my deep slumber of unwritingness. A remembrance of a time when I loved words more than water.

I was searching for a quote to put on my facebook page, and there was a name, a writer, tickling my memory. I did vague Google searches for her name, a writer whom I had once greatly admired. So sad, I couldn't even remember her first name. Finally, by searching a large mess of keywords relating to one of her short stories, I found her.

Flannery O'Connor.

Obscure Twentieth Century Southern female writer, never to reach the popular heights of Virginia Woolfe or Eudora Welty, but brilliant, and as great an observer of human nature as Jane Austen. I had always wanted to be a writer, but her writings made me realize I could impact my little corner of the world with my words.

I read her quotes for two hours the other night. Finally chose one and stuck it up on my facebook page.

Finding her writings was like finding myself again after a long coma. I have struggled for years wondering what kind of writer I am, what my "voice" sounds like. I have found it. It was there all along, buried with my fears and apathy.

So, I may be a writer already, one who has not yet written. Or maybe I am becoming a writer as I put down words. Who knows? All I know is that in 2011 I will write. A lot. It is in my bones, I know with all of me God created me to write. So I shall set aside my fears and laziness and work hard, even when I do not want to, even when there are no quick words ready. I have learned there are always words, one must just sometimes dig them up out of deep ground.

There it is, my huge, gigantic New Year's resolution. Pray for me as I live it out in 2011, please. And please share yours with me so I can pray and support you also. :)

New Things...

It is January 31, New Year's Eve 2010. A very cold and snowy morning here in Denver. Us Denverites have waited over 3 months for this snow, and it is gorgeous, crisp and sparkling. Perfect.

I have a lot of thoughts about New Year's. The main one is I generally don't care for it. It has always seemed strange to me, having this "new start" plopped down in the freezing cold of winter, one week after the busiest holiday of the entire year. I figured everyone needed something to distract them from the huge letdown that comes after all the Christmas build-up and planning are over...twenty minutes after all the presents are opened. At the very least, I figured New Year's was getting jipped in its holiday rights- every other holiday gets a proper build-up and plenty of time to buy silly decorations. Valentine's Day displays popped up in stores a week ago, after all.

If I were to plan a "New Year" holiday, I would put it in mid-spring, the first week of May. Plenty of tulips in bloom, and lots of warm rain and green grass. It might hit a little close to Easter some years, but that would just mean more ham biscuits at parties. Now doesn't that sound perfect, bees buzzing and baby bunnies hopping around the flowers? I can smell the honeysuckle at midnight now.

But I suppose there is a problem with this spring New Year's of mine. It shows all the rewards of the creation of another year without any of the effort. "New" implies change. And change is not all bunnies and tulips, it is hard work. And messy.

II Corinthians 5:17 says:
"Anyone who belongs to Christ is a new person. The past is forgotten and everything is new."

Sounds like spring to me.

The new happens in our hearts immediately, Christ gives us a new heart instantly. But the living out of that newness is a process, driven by the choices we make each day. We surrender to Christ's leading each morning. We fall, we get back up.

Just like our New Year's resolutions. We choose to change something, to make something "new" in our lives, and then we go about the hard work to accomplish it. It might be new in our hearts immediately, just like the spring, but it must be lived out in the hard work of winter.

So maybe those calendar planners knew what they were doing after all. As you move about the next few months of winter, doing the difficult work of becoming new in some area of your life, I will be doing the same thing too. And when spring gets here, we will be new, just like the tulips and the bunnies. Just don't fall down and stay there. Choose your resolutions wisely, and then go make then happen.

Happy New Year all.