Thrive

Words bubbling up in my head and heart have not found their sentences yet.  Still I feel like I need to put something on "paper".  This week I have to remember.  God- that silent, urgent, persistent, pursuer, moved here- is still unwrapping this gift for ME...

An urge, turned into action, sparking reciprocation, breaking a dam that had restrained love, forgiveness, understanding and grace.  Now, like a river it moves, getting stronger by the hour, engulfing me and not a moment too soon.

Now, together with my cape and my sidekick, we will face twenty years lost.  Pain beyond belief, flooding further than I had imagined.  Healing comes?  Death at the door.  These emotions are too much, crushing individually, but together they are weaving a tapestry of hope and peace.  It cannot be denied:  This is bigger than me, than us.

He is here. He makes all things new.

The song in my head today: Thrive by Switchfoot...Couldn't have said it better myself:

Been fighting things that I can't see in
Like voices coming from the inside of me and
Like doing things I find hard to believe in
Am I myself or am I dreaming?

I've been awake for an hour or so
Checking for a pulse but I just don't know
Am I a man when I feel like a ghost?
The stranger in the mirror is wearing my clothes

No I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
A steering wheel don't mean you can drive
A warm body don't mean I'm alive
No I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feels like I travel but I never arrive
I want to thrive not just survive

I come alive when I hear you singing
But lately I haven't been hearing a thing and
I get the feeling that I'm in between
A machine and a man who only looks like me

I try and hide it and not let it show
But deep down inside me I just don't know
Am I a man when I feel like a hoax?
The stranger in the mirror is wearing my clothes

I'm always close but I'm never enough
I'm always in line but I'm never in love
I get so down but I won't give up
I get slowed down but I won't give up
...............

I want to thrive not just survive

God Is Not A Prude

"Uh, mom, who have you been having sex with?"  The question I thought I'd never hear coming from my nine year old's lips.  We were sitting together in a hot tub last weekend on our little get-away vacation.  The bubbles had forced their way into the top of my swimsuit, making me look pregnant, in her mind.  I giggled at her and splashed her with water.  "No one, Goofball, you?"  We laughed and the conversation quickly went on to other things.

It's been a topic I've worked hard to make "comfortable" around our house since the oldest son was in 3rd grade.  The fact that now my daughter is willing to joke with me tells me two things:

1-  My efforts are paying off.  She's asking the tough questions a lot lately, and happens to be just cool enough to put me at ease while I answer her directly.

2- The way I live my life is being watched, for better or worse.

I am acutely aware of my responsibility to educate in this area as a parent, and am blazing a trail through uncharted territory.  I'll just tell you what I've told them:  There is NOTHING comfortable about this topic, for my kids or their mother.  This blog is no less comfortable, except that I don't have to make eye contact with you while I type.

Quite honestly, the message I received during my formative years, while completely typical for "churchy" families, was frustratingly misleading.  Couple that distorted message with abusive experiences and an infiltrating culture completely obsessed with lust, I've been a bit lost. I'm determined to find my way, even if only slightly ahead of my adolescent children!

Sex is a beautiful thing, designed by God... just don't do it, it's bad. Okay?  If you have any questions, you can ask anytime this weekend.  In between educational audio tapes...  

Uhhhhhhhhhh, okay?  Riiiight.... There's no way in hell I'm asking my questions, besides my friends already told me most of this stuff at least four years ago at recess.  I'll just figure this stuff out on my own or pretend I know like every other 12 year old.  My thoughts, laced with the undercurrent of internal guilt, would most definitely never be discussed.

I chose to "follow the rules", mostly because I'm a pleaser and I didn't want to disappoint Mom and Dad or God, and also I was a little scared of the potential consequences.  I was the Lamaze coach for my best friend our freshman year of high school. The pregnancy, birth and postpartum months made a huge impact on me.

Marriage didn't make things any better.  Now I'm suddenly supposed to not feel like it's "bad".  My husband seemed to have the same perspective.  When I found out I was pregnant with my first baby, he hated that we had to tell our parents because "they'll know we've had sex."  Never mind that we had been married for 7 months, I'm guessing they had assumed that already...

Since my divorce, sex has never been more of an "issue" in my life.  The truth is, it's a whole different world out there now than it was 16 years ago when I was on the dating scene last.   A few of the guys who have made it clear that they are, um... available, have been clearly a "no, not even if we were the last two breathing souls on the planet" kind of NO.  Then there are some pretty darn nice ones too.  The trouble is, I haven't figured out how to disconnect my heart and emotions from the action- like apparently 95% of the other single women on the planet have.  So it's pretty much been a self protection kind of "no" since I could tell my heart wasn't going anywhere near those situations.

Okay.  So, a few weeks ago I had this discussion with one of these clearly-available-to-me guys.  We had just met.  He's, obviously, intensely attractive. Not my kind of guy really, but only because the stereotype narrative in my mind says he's a player BECAUSE he's gorgeous.  Danger, Collene.  Remember the last time you let one of these guys charm his way into your very soul?  Yeah, this isn't happening buddy.  I told him I'm worth a heck of alot more than the very little effort he's trying to put into me.  He agreed and quickly gave up.  Then, we laughed and ended up just talking into the night about other things.  I'm sure I came across as a complete diva-princess with my little comment.  It sounds so arrogant.  But, I am worth more.

I know I'll never see him again, but I've thought back on that night and the conversations we had.  What I wish I had told him is that HE'S worth more than that too.  This shallow, take-what-you-can mentality that the majority of my single peers has, has got to ultimately leave everyone empty at the core.  The satisfaction, cannot possibly be more than temporary.  In fact, I'd go so far as to say it actually seems to rob the soul of something. No one seems willing to take the time or have the desire for the kind of connection and commitment that is supposed to accompany, what is likely, the most fantastic thing two people can share on the planet (heck, I'll even throw in the whole galaxy).   

So now the months of thoughts, frustrations, heartaches and fears related to this topic culminated into the uncomfortable discussion of the year.  At church.  AWKWARD.  Except, that it really wasn't!!  The group of us that is working through the same set of challenges, is a hodge-podge of demographics.  There are a couple of long term married people, a few older-than-me-but-younger-than-my-parents married couples, a couple of younger than me married couples, my single-never-been-married friend, and me.  Both pastors and their wives are also in this group.

One of the men, while proud of his Catholic upbringing, had the most candid, insightful comments as it pertains to the misinformation and general lack of encouragement given to church kids and singles about sex.  In fact, of all the people in our little group, it seems that he was raised the most similarly to me, with the tendency towards legalism...It was him that made the statement: "Lust and Love are both a 100% investment."

That got me thinking: I can either invest 100% in myself, while the guy invests 100% in himself and settle for the using and being used of empty lust, or I can invest 100% in him, while he invests 100% in me, and have real love.  That conversation led to:  "God is not a prude". Why else would  Song of Solomon be included in the scriptures?  Apparently, although I've never read it, it never even mentions God anywhere in the book."  Huh, maybe I should check into it...

Well good!  It's okay, spiritually speaking, to really want it then- and I do.  If God is for it, who can be against it right?  Oh yeah, the other guy.  If God has a plan, you can rest assured knowing the enemy does too- twisting the truth,  corrupting the promise, destroying the dream, deceiving the masses, scarring and wounding amazing, worthwhile people along the way...

So, you'll understand if you see me pass on grasping at the mirage and instead settle in for the long haul journey to the oasis.  Oh, and I'll be encouraging my kids to do the same.

P.S.  I read this blog to all three of my kids before I published it.  We all survived.

Turning Corners

He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane.  I am a tree bending beneath His wind and mercy...

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss. And my heart turns violently inside of my chest. I don't have time to maintain these regrets...

There are no less than 35 directions I've thought about taking this blog today.  Originally, I was going to talk about sex... (no, I'm not kidding),  BUT so much more has happened inside my head and heart over the course of the weekend, I'll save that blog for later in the week.  (It's okay Dad, it'll be classy when I do...)  Words are going to fail me tonight, I know this, because I am already stammering in my mind.  I am freakin' excited.  "My heart turns violently inside of my chest" are the only words that feel applicable and I'm not sure I can even explain why.  Except this:

Today was a new day.

Do you ever wake up and just know, you've turned a corner?   I've been living in a maze of sorts I think, because this is the third corner I've been around in twice as many months.  The view is no less exciting the third time...

I was up late.  Or early, really, grabbing breakfast with five new friends at Denny's.  Very cool people, really.  Although the company was great, the location was really what got me thinking.  Denny's was the location of my first "date" after my divorce.  Classy?  Yes.  Exactly like the guy.  

That date was 11 months ago.  It was a  5:00 AM coffee date since we were supposed to be meeting with one of his friends to build beds for his garden and plant stuff later that morning.  I figured that was a safe time of day for a respectable date.  Nope.  It turns out BOTH people have to actually be respectable for the date to be respectable, and time of day doesn't matter.  I've told the entire story a few times:  Women laugh nervously, or shake their heads, men tend to get a tad angry and, oddly enough, start discussing various weaponry.  Since I'm already getting off topic, I will save the excruciating details for chapter one of my first how-not-to book.

I'm going to quickly insert clarification:  I do not actually like Denny's, and have never requested it personally.  Okay, I feel better.

Anywhoooo, I woke up way too early today for a girl who doesn't ever sleep anyway, and had no motherly responsibilities this morning.  I could not help but feel heavy-hearted.  What is the point?  What am I doing with this life?  Images of moments and people of the last year flicker in my memory.  The feeling that I'm waiting for life to restart takes over, yet again.  I've got one shot and I know it, but weeks and months have turned into a year... and more.  I'm still passively waiting.  For what exactly?  I don't have a clue, but as I pour my coffee I know that TODAY things have to change.

I haven't been to church in a month; I decided to go.  At least I won't be alone with myself here...

Here's where the words are failing me. The topic today was on leadership and was directed specifically at the men. This fact, alone, caused an emotional reaction in me that I was unprepared for.  Meanwhile, my already heavy heart was soothed in a way I cannot explain.  Through the river of tears and snot that poured off my face I wrote these notes (Um, by-the-way, I'm not a pretty crier, you may have guessed- it's been confirmed):

2 Chronicles 16:9 "The eyes of the LORD search the whole earth in order to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him..."

Ephesians 5:15-16  "Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.  Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is."

Joshua 24:15  "But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve... But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."
  
A fire-hose of soothing, confirming, hopeful words... Then, the MOST encouraging thing:  The men were challenged to be leaders, at church, but more importantly and dear to my heart, at home.  Aggggh, amazing.  I can't describe the atmosphere in the room this morning, but I know two things: God is going to answer my heart's cry and I get to watch.  Yes, every single one of those guys in our little congregation belongs to someone else, but I will get to watch this amazing thing happen right in front of me this summer, even more importantly, so will my boys. I think I'll keep going.

Meanwhile, Integrity and Faithfulness are not accidental.  I plan to continue trudging along, picking up the pieces and moving through this maze resolutely, turning as many corners as it takes... I don't have time to maintain these regrets.

Murder Of The Facade

Tonight's insomniac mental movie brought to you by the US Navy, NASA and me.  Prepare yourself, I have a jam-packed little mind...  Although I've been wrestling with a blog/journal topic for weeks, I didn't imagine it coming together like this, and it still might not. Let's see if I make any sense, shall we?

Dad was a military man-  a Naval pilot, briefly.  He separated from the Navy before I was born, but he told us a couple of stories. My whole life, he displayed a little orange and white model airplane on a bookshelf or his desk.  Somewhere along the way I learned that it was a model of the training plane he had learned to fly in.  The fact that his instructor had also crashed in that plane, with Dad on board, seemed like an insignificant fact to my young mind.  No need to take note, he's safe now and not flying, so I barely gave that any thought as a kid.  Tonight, as soon as I closed my eyes, the image of the field and crashed plane as I had imagined it as a child, was front and center...

Dad was, apparently, unique, as pilots are concerned.  He loved to fly.  His body did not.  He never seemed to go up without, what had gone down, coming back up as well...  As a result of his, um...  gifts and abilities where airsickness is concerned, he was selected to spend roughly six months being tested and studied at NASA.  Delicious, I know, but bear with me.  These thoughts tonight tie into the topics already weighing my mind...

I first acknowledged them last fall, just before I started writing this blog.  Back then it was subtle, a flirting idea, two alternating flickering questions- barely holding my attention, really. 

Recently, I spent some time visiting some friends out of state.  I'm not sure I've met a more perfect couple.  Maybe I'm intrigued by them more than most other couples I know because both have personalities similar to my own.  As a couple they challenge each other, they effortlessly understand each other (for better or worse), they have the same sense of humor, they are both motivated, hard working, passionate, intelligent people.  He's type A, a military guy- Special Forces stuff... and she's the PERFECT self sufficient, supportive wife for that kind of man.   Individually, they possess incredible strength and depth; as a couple, well in my mind, "Power Couple" applies.  Together, they are deeply, intimately known. Okay, so they're not perfect and neither is their marriage, but they are perfect for each other.  I would have been suspicious of the validity of that kind of chemistry and connection as an onlooker, had I not briefly stumbled upon something similar once, a million years ago.

As usually happens when we all get together, a few other people showed up at the house, creating somewhat of an adult slumber party, complete with a movie and pizza.  Eventually the lights went out, but the other couch surfer and I kept talking.  This one was the same caliber of guy as our friend.  I am intrigued by, and in some ways can identify with, what makes these people tick: they are never satisfied, never good enough, never finished with the job, their questions are never completely answered.

We talked for awhile and quite honestly, I don't recall exactly how we got around to it, but I do remember the statement he made: "Well, Collene, no one REALLY wants to be known."  What?!!  That perspective had never occurred to me.  Insert one of those alternating, flickering questions I've been wrestling with, increasingly, over the past few months: "Does anyone really know me?"  I hear my voice telling this stranger in the dark, out loud and maybe somewhat aggressively,  "I want to be known fully, then accepted completely.  I crave it.  Not by everyone, but by the people that matter."

All I can think about since that conversation is that I'm so sick of having my guard up, constantly presenting the "best of me" to everyone.  It's mind numbingly exhausting.  I'm eager to murder the facade.

Now, married in my mind with question number one, is the second... Earlier this week, I further confirmed:  I'm a girl.  A dumb, emotional, ridiculous, embarrassing girl.  Sometimes, the unresolved conflicts and destroyed relationships in my life weigh on my heart and nearly succeed in drowning me with grief.  In my mind a couple of them are worth redeeming, but I am powerless to resolve the mess on my own.  The other flickering question resurfaces: "What makes these people I have loved so deeply, been so open with, walk away so effortlessly... one after the other?" My assumption has been that once they really started to know me, they opted out.

I called my dad.  He knows me right?  I'm hoping to hear something encouraging.  Nope.  Just more misunderstandings.  Stress, anger, hurt... dumb girl.  Oh, and words.  I said words to him that I used to never use at all, but now they seem to apply to situations more often than not.  He was less than proud.  To him it was completely unacceptable. I feel incredibly unknown, not accepted.   I care, but I don't have the energy to fight for it anymore.  I lack the ability to pretend in any aspect of my life anymore.  I know I'm not a complete treasure.  I've got all kinds of ugly and nonsense to sort in me...  I worry that there will be more loss.

Dad called me the next day to reassure me that he loves me.  Unconditionally.  I believe him, but I still feel largely misunderstood.  Unknown.  Alone.

Sooooo, while I'm laying here replaying the grainy childhood mental image of my dad's Navy/NASA days, it occurs to me:  I don't know him that well either.  Does he want to be known?  Our experiences shape us, I imagine those days for him were incredibly shaping.  Just maybe, these people that so effortlessly walked away weren't doing so because they were getting to know me, but rather, I was getting to know them. 

Whatever.  It may not matter, but now I believe I'll sleep.  I should also mention, I know nothing about planes.  This one is sorta like the one in my cobwebbed mind, so sorry Dad, if I got your plane wrong.