A Great Experience

Okay, it's no secret. I'm a Discovery Channel junkie. I watch Mythbusters, American Chopper though now, it's dying and moved to TLC), Everest, Deadliest Catch. I love that crap. I guess it gives me some sort of insight into areas I know Nothing about. I have no desire to fish, fabricate motorcycles or determine the terminal velocity of a penny as it is dropped from an 18 story port a potty. Perhaps I'm looking to live vicariously through strangers who seem to live exciting lives, or face death on a daily basis, or maybe I just find it entertaining.
A year or so ago, I got hooked on storm chasers. I have been teased, “Maybe they'll catch something (a storm on camera or data or crab), maybe they won't?” Indicating that these shows have pretty much the same plot episode after episode, why bother? With the crab fishing, It's absolutely crazy, but I get why people do it. It's totally dangerous, it's miserable, backbreaking work, but the pay day is pretty sweet. For generational fishermen, growing up, it is the only career they know. The storm chasers are different. I have never understood the appeal. A lot of these guys have Ph D's in Meteorology, and can get comfy jobs in TV or radio or university settings, but they choose to bust their butts to try to get grants and raise money just to spend it on electronic data collection gizmo's. I suppose there is the possibility of a huge pay off, however that does not seem to be the driving force behind it. And there are tons of “non research” people who chase storms for the heck of it. Is this the only way in Oklahoma and Nebraska to get any sort of adrenaline rush? While that's probably true, I don't think that's it.
The other morning, I sat outside under the overcast sky. The clouds were moving, but on the ground, no sort of breeze. While it wasn't necessarily “hot”, it was not very comfortable. Just good ol' heavy Midwest humidity. Then, from a distant place in the heavens, came the gentle rumble of thunder, and with it the promise of relief from the stagnant warm air. Clouds began gaining momentum as they quickly traveled through the sky. The gentle rumbles became pops and cracks. The sound of wind through the trees began as a soft fluttering, then abruptly rose in tempo to mimic applause and crescendoed to the sound of fierce rolling waves.
The cool breeze hit my face, lifting away, not only the heavy heat, but anything that felt heavy inside and out. I took a long, deep breath and could taste the coming rain. I looked up, and the silver blanket of clouds was pulling behind it a large charcoal gray wall. It was as thick and as deep and as wide and as long as I could see. The mid-day that had appeared as twilight, quickly turned to dusk. Though I was surrounded by movement an sound, I felt as still as rock, yet as light as the dry leaves floating in the wind. I was very conscious of something Great.
I then began to catch a glimpse of understanding. Perhaps people don't just pull over and get out of their cars on country plains roads for a cheap thrill or cool weather show. Just maybe, it is one of the rare opportunities we take to truly “BE” in the Presence of Greatness.
We are easily distracted by the possible looming tornado inside from recognizing Greatness for Who it is. But Greatness is not restricted to extreme weather events. We may have had our breath taken way by an ocean view, a snow covered mountain or new baby, only to be quickly distracted by getting “a good spot” on the beach, how cold it is, or the weight of new responsibilities. We spend a brief moment in the divine, then get weighted back down by our humanity. Greatness is evident in each blade of grass, drop of dew or colony of ants, we just don't really care.
So, I will probably continue to watch the Danger hunters on TV, and settle for a facsimile of that which is Supernatural and Divine. But if you and I are having a conversation in the driveway one day and I zone out on an ant carrying a potato chip, please don't take it personally. I'm simply Experiencing Greatness.

Dorks Reset- a rerun from the old blog

So, Ok, The night the last Harry Potter book came out, I stood in line with the other Nerds to get my pre ordered book at midnight. I went home and read until 5:20am. Slept off and on till 8, went with the kids to Lebanon, Ohio where we rode the “Hogwarts Express”, went home and made dinner, read until I finished the book at 4:30am, slept a couple of hours, managed to not fall asleep during church, ate lunch, took my kids ice skating, then hit the wall about 6o’clock Sunday night. Why would I, a 32-year-old person with two kids do this to myself? Why is the fate of “the boy who lived” so important to me?
Truthfully, it is only to save my family from ridicule and embarrassment that I refrain from donning official licensed Gryffindor attire or have a Firebolt replica on the wall. God help me if I were single and wealthy. There would be a room for every Disney, Tolkien, Rowling or Neverland fantastical environment.
As a little girl, I remember clicking my heals together 3 times hoping I would be transported to my “real” home, because, surely, THIS couldn’t be it. But even now, I admit, I have to resist the temptation to feel the back of the coat closet and secretly hope it’s not there, or tap the five bricks in the right sequence with my pink umbrella in anticipation of them opening to reveal Diagon Alley, or press on the bathroom mirror to gain access to a nonsensical world.
Many would think I’m a dreamer, seeking an escape from my mundane suburban life, but you would be incorrect. I’m the most blessed person I know. My husband’s a stud, my kids are amazing and each day brings a new adventure. Yet, a place inside of me still wonders if I ran through the train station barrier, would there be the teeniest chance I would end up at Platform 9 3/4 instead of the ER.
And I know I’m not alone. I wasn’t the only childless mom in line that night to get a book; and sold-out midnight showings of Star Wars and Lord Of The Rings are attended by thousands who dropped the kids at Grandma’s for the night and have to get up and go to work in the morning.
Why the fascination?
M.Hale’s book, Beautiful Girlhood, a literary staple to many young girls in the early 20th century, discourages the reading of fantastic fiction and fairy stories for fear the head will dwell on unrealistic ideas instead of being a diligent and serious woman with aspirations of being a good wife and mother. Many cultures have tried to keep young people from dreaming or imagining, encouraging practicality, but the “imaginary world” spirit universally endures. It seems to be instinctive, just part of who we are. Could it be that our “Inner Dufus” is divinely inspired?
I believe there’s a part of us, as spiritual beings that know we don’t belong here. We feel like a square pegs in round holes because we are. Our spirit longs for the place which defies physical laws and where we are constantly in the presence of greatness and perfection. The universal struggle of good/evil, Jedi/Sith, White Witch/Aslan, is happening now all around us and we’re part of it in our “ordinary” lives, and we’re drawn to it, though we don’t see it. Perhaps the dorky dreamers are not trying to escape reality, but truly sense the bigger picture. Or, maybe we’re just dorks.

The junk Drawer

I have a (well, really several) junk drawers at my house. None of them started as junk drawers, but through neglect and laziness, “junk drawers” they became. The drawer that you keep miscellaneous pens, pencils, erasers, batteries, sticky notes, etc., is the one acceptable junk drawer every house can have. No, you usually can't find what you need in it because it's so disorganized, and for some, even painful to open, but, it is still the socially accepted “messy drawer”.
In our home we love to have a comfortable place for guests to visit. We love to have people over. When people are coming over, I like for things to appear clean and neat-I try to check the toilet bowl rim; make sure the sink/counters/table is clear of stuff; check if anything that may be lurking under the furniture can be seen if someone sits on the floor. I do, however, struggle with organization. Over the course of the week, “little piles” of papers and junk invade our home. They are made of the things that you don't have (or take) the time right way to deal with, so they end up in “little piles”. Some turn into “big piles”. What do you do when you have people coming over, and you need to quickly abolish the 'little piles”? Well, that's where “junk drawers” (plural) are useful. If the piles don't fit in the drawers, there's the “junk cabinet”. When the cabinet is filled, there's a closet. And when the hoarding and laziness have gotten out of hand, there's the “junk room”. I love to have people over, and I want them to feel like they are in a comfortable, relaxed environment. Please come to my house, I want you to feel like you can just open up and let go of the cares of the world. However, you are only allowed into specifically sanctioned areas. FOR GOODNESS SAKE DON”T OPEN ANY DRAWERS, OR CABINETS, OR CLOSETS, OR GO UPSTAIRS. If you saw that, what would you say? “How can she stand it?”, “Do you like everything being a cluttered mess?” Please limit your wanderings to the yard, living room, guest bath and kitchen.
Part of the reason I enjoy having guests, is I LOVE to talk. Chit chit chat, yak yak yak, blah blah blah. I can talk for HOURS on end. I really enjoy hearing about people- their thoughts, joys, struggles, ideas. I love to make people feel like I can “relate” to them. I will never be shy about sharing a story or scenario that relates to you or your situation. Someone who has spent time chatting with me might tell you that I am an “open book” because I'll talk to you about anything you will talk about. But, the truth is, I am NOT an “open book”. I am more like a library with certain books and sections of books that are accessible, but much of the library is off limits. I love reading your book and will reference things in mine or even other people's books, but to just allow you to grab a book of any old shelf? Not so much.
I can talk forever about nothing, but it's very difficult for me to really talk about things that matter, things that are important, things that invoke emotion. I become overwhelmed. When I meet with my kid's teachers, I can discuss methods and strategies and performance, but when I truly attempt to express my gratitude to these wonderful people who invest in my children, I get choked up. I recently resigned from my position in the toddler room where I work. We had Parent/Teacher conferences my last week. I had no issues going over the developmental continuum, talk about progress, or steps moving forward, but when I opened my mouth to tell a parent how dearly I have enjoyed having their child in my care, nothing came out. I just started to cry. I will miss this student very much, but I just couldn't say it. I am also pretty useless evangelically. When I attempt to tell someone about my Jesus, how loves me and died for me and even though I suck, He wants to have a relationship with me, my throat tightens up and my eyes fill with tears. (Okay, I am totally tearing up writing about this stuff. What a loser!). When faced with any situation when I know my words are emotionally significant, I freeze up. I am afraid. I can't say anything. And if it does come out, what if it comes out all wrong?
I read a term a few months ago called “low intimacy tolerance”. I liked this term. If there's a term for it, it must be OKAY! I can tolerate other's intimacy, but can't seem to reciprocate. This term gives me the liberty to avoid being vulnerable. I can keep the window to my soul one of those one way mirror things used in interrogation rooms on cop shows. I really don't know I'm doing it, it has just become how I do things. I know the defense mechanism better than I know myself. I don't have to be afraid if I risk nothing. “Relating” is much easier than actually “knowing”. If you knew me, What would you say? “How can she stand it?”, “Do you like being a cluttered mess?”.
There are times when the rooms, the closets and drawers get organized and pretty. THEN, you can feel free to look around. A friend of mine once said, “If you want to see my house, call first. If you want to see ME, just stop by.” It can't be much fun to just keep visiting someone's house, but stay confined to the kitchen-never seeing the person who lives there. So, if I allow you to come over and my house is a wreck, please know that I'm making progress. This is who I really am-A WRECK.

In the quiet place

Christian culture speaks a lot about the discipline of having a daily “quiet time”. It is an act of worship to our God, giving him the firstfriuts of our day, and telling Him our time with Him is valuable enough to schedule it. Quiet meditation is a time of focusing mind, body and spirit. We have studies, lectures and sing about being able to hear God speak to us in that “Quiet Place”. I'm going to be honest, I'm not of the opinion that it's all that big of an awesome accomplishment to hear God in the “quiet and stillness”. Don't misunderstand me-I'm not knocking it, or the importance of getting away and having undistracted time with God. Amazing insights, growth and confidence come from of those times. What I want to know is, how do I hear God in the noise?
I always thought of a “quiet Time” as something that helped you connect with God in the morning, and hopefully it was of good enough quality to sustain you through the day. If it wasn't enough, just get up an hour earlier and devote that much more time in the morning (yeah right, I'm a total slacker and would be all grouchy and complaining and totally nodding off by 9:30) AND THEN, it would be enough to get you through the day. It probably is great discipline and people who do that are AWESOME, and I Epically Suck, but for me to do it would sound a lot like a “formula for faith”. If I spend “A” much time doing “B” good thing, then I'm “C” all good with God and can go about my business. Yay Me!
I have what has been clinically diagnosed as an Attention Deficit Hyperkinestetic Disorder, which is “fancy talk” for ADD. Environmentally quiet times are some of my most difficult times to try to focus. My mind is racing. I think the reason I talk so much is an effort of trying to keep up with a racing, random train station of thought. Trying to go to sleep used to be the absolute worst, until I had the aid of medication and ritual. Being still in the quiet place, in my experience, is more of a challenge communicating with God than being at a Phish Festival.
A few years ago, I was driving my daughter home from a birthday party at night. I was in our neighborhood when I saw a couple walking with two dogs walking ahead of them. I didn't pay too much attention. Two people walking their dogs, presumably on leashes. Well, one of the dogs (a cute little dirty white westie mix) ran into the street and darted in front of my car (“darted in front of my car”-that's a stupid expression. Where the heck did that even come from?). One of the people who were walking called out to the dog. It didn't respond, and I hit the dog. I was horrified. My daughter was traumatized. The people walking were freaked out. I got out of the car and started immediately apologizing all over myself for running over these people's dog (from here on known as Fifi). As it turns out, neither of the dogs were on leashes because, they weren't their dogs. Ni either dog had a collar. I wasn't driving fast enough to kill Fifi, so he had scooted its little (probably crushed) behind to the side of the road with it's little front legs and lay it's head on the curb, panting, with a look of excruciating pain on it's little doggie Fifi face. I didn't know what to do. The people went home, and I'm standing in the middle of the road with this fatally injured dog. I don't have a dog. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it. Luckily, a family stopped and asked me what was wrong. When I told them what had happened, they got out, wrapped Fifi in a jacket and took him to an animal clinic. Now, these people are CLEARLY way better than me, and I could go on rambling of their greatness and nobility, but this isn't their blog, it's mine. And you're thinking, “Heck yeah, she's ADD. Fifi? WTF?” But what struck me is how even though someone called out to the dog in an effort to save it, the dog didn't respond. This voice was not the voice of it's master.
Perhaps there is where the discipline comes into play. Not a formula for checking a box and being 'all good', but daily, hourly, minutely communicating, in some way, with God so that, through the noise, you recognize His voice. "Be Sill and know He is God" means that when things are crazy, loud and overwhelming, I can Know he is God, so my heart can be still. I don't believe God speaks in the quiet. I believe He always speaks, Even in a disorganized, noisy mind, I'm just not disciplined enough to always hear Him.




This post is dedicated to the memory of Fifi

Here We Go Again

So, I don't know how you people ever got through the last eighteen months without my valuable insights. Good Grief. It's funny how time (and inspiration) run away from us while we're busy cluttering our heads with other stuff. I've been so busy worrying about "Nothing", that I haven't really been focusing on "Something". I gave up the blog and got caught in the Facebook Vortex. It's like a casino- you can never leave! There are so many links for an ADD person such as myself to click. And you can be all voyeuristic know all about a person and NEVER have to talk to them. Who wouldn't want THAT? As long as you have a friend of a friend of someone, you can see all of their photos. You really can find out if that High School Cheerleader you hated is all fat and has ugly kids, and no one has to know. The opposite is also true, but that's why all my FB pics that are tagged have a maximum wight limit. Any photo that depicts me with more than one chin (which means pretty much anything taken since Grunge was still cool) will be untagged immediately!
All kidding aside, I LOVE Facebook. It does really help people with very different lives stay connected. You really never have to say "goodbye" to anyone ever again. Unless, of course they De-Friend you; the ultimate slap in the face. It says either "I hate you so much, that I no longer wish to see your name on a news feed or gift you puppy kibble for your farm ever again" or "I only really friend ed you so I had an impressive number of people on my Friend List and now I have more that enough, so bu-bye".
If you think about it, for a society that is all "identity theft" and "stalker" conscious, we put an awful lot of personal information out there. Is it really any one's business that GoodBurger is on my Movie Favorites? Imagine what someone could do with that information! But I'll risk it if it means I can spout my thoughts and opinions to the world in an effort to feel self-important.
We'll see how often and how long I'll keep this up. I am pretty lazy.