Things I learned in 2012

Wait, I'm sorry, is this belated at all?

Ironically, I really did compile this list when 2013 was yet fresh.  I even talked up the concept of a "What I learned" list and at least one friend jumped on the bandwagon and did a list for 2012 back when I did mine in January.  I just...  Forgot to publish this post.  So this is old, but the ideas are still good ones.

Right?  *coughcough*

Without further ado, and in no particular order:

1)  Never put a pen through your clothes drier.  The washing machine isn't so bad, it's the drier that will never be the same.
2)  Humans as a whole are remarkably unobservant.  For instance, I got my hair cut about a foot and only three people noticed.  Total.
3)  I, also being human, am not observant.  I won't go into details, but suffice it to say I can think of at least two instances where I was the last to notice something that directly related to me.
4)  There's a lot to learn in the Bible.  A lot.
5)  I shouldn't be allowed to play shooting games.  While at my sister's house over the summer I was trying to play Portal, and anytime something shot at me, I about hid under the desk.  A game that involved real shooting would probably be very damaging to my psyche.
6)  There are a lot of problem in life.  Sometimes I learn of GIANT situations that I didn't know about, and think, "Why so many problems everywhere?"  Nobody is exempt, it seems.
7)  My life is not my own.  I mean, nobody's is, but...  I have learned recently that it's very much true of me, as well.

PS this has the same disclaimer as last year.  These aren't all new things, just thoughts that presented themselves to me in various ways through the year.

The S Word

Letting go

For some reason the subject of Submission has been a big topic around me recently.  And I can honestly say that I wildly disagree with a lot of what is said regarding submission.  A lot of people  (read, women, mostly) view it as pretty much a fate worse than death, to have to be submissive (is it naive to disagree with such crazy talk?  Or am I headed down the same road just by having been born a female?).  I've had at least one woman tell me that she'd only get married if a man made her a promise that she'd only have to be as submissive as he was in their relationship.  Another person posed to me the question as to whether or not unmarried females have to cover their heads if they are without headship (which is to say, neither father nor husband).  I could regale you with other such tales, but the point is, people have a lot of questions about submission.  And people have a lot of hang-ups with submission.

I have no idea.  I'm not married.  To me it seems like submission is sort of, you know, a Biblical concept, but maybe it's only easy to say that because I am, in fact, unmarried.  We'll see what I say when I have to practice submission more frequently.  =)

But I've been thinking about submission a lot.  What it means to me, practically, being as I am an unmarried female.  I have people in my life to whom I submit (my father as my head, my boss as my boss, people older than me because, you know, that's how these things go), but my main job as far as submission goes these days is to submit to the Lord.  Which seems easy on paper, but sometimes I'm not sure it is.

All of this is a roundabout way of saying that I'm not sure when someone becomes pro at submission, but if anyone's gotten there, please give me tips.  I don't even have to submit to a lot of people, and I'm already not sure I'm doing it right.

For instance, imagine the consternation that goes on in my home when I talk about how I hope my husband is down with earrings so I can pierce my ears once I'm married.  My poor parents think they've gone wrong somewhere and in some horrible way.  But at least they taught me that I should be submissive enough to not do it if Said Potential Husband doesn't prefer pierced ears!  Haha, there's consolation in that, right?

Happy Thanksgiving!

This year Thanksgiving is a little different than usual.  We had a family celebration a week or so ago, and then we all went our separate ways and are having individual Thanksgivings.  My brother and cousins are supposed to be arriving in a bit for our Chinese food Thanksgiving (read: best idea ever) but before then I just wanted to publicly say how thankful I am for...  Basically everything.  I sometimes have issues not being content (what am I doing with my life?  Why have I accomplished nothing in the past decade?  Ahhhh!) but...  I have a remarkably wonderful life.

This morning I got up and (after cleaning the house) went on a run.  And then went to the cemetery.  Maybe not the cheeriest Thanksgiving but a good one.  I loved having the quiet.  The time to pray, to be thankful, to simply...  Be.  The Lord has given me so much, and in a holiday that is usually filled with chatter and coffeecake it was nice to have a morning of just me and the Lord.

So.  Happy Thanksgiving.  May yours be as awesome as mine!  =)

Worth it

Some days my responsibilities leave me tired.  I remember earlier this year when a friend was helping me do Sunday School stuff she remarked, "How do you do it?  These kids wear me out!"

I feel you.

Some Sundays I just feel spent.  It is ridiculous, of course, because it's only a couple of hours a couple of times a weekend, but the constant chaos has a way of wearing you down.  Like a rock in a creek.  No matter how innocuous the creek seems, eventually that rock is going to be worn down whether or not it wants to be.

Like tonight, driving the kids home from gospel.  Definitely had to pull over and do the, "Whomsoever does not sit down and stop fighting won't come or get cookies ever again."  It works for a few blocks, anyhow.

But.

But.

Let me tell you a story that starts a while ago.  A story that begins on a different thread, but leads back to the subject at hand.

Earlier this summer I started a book called Get Lost.  I started it and realized that it was going to be good, good enough, in fact, for me to *gasp* buy an actual copy for myself, instead of just using the library version I had.  (I don't prefer to use money for... anything.  I avoid purchasing things unless it's ABSOLUTELY NEEDED.  So to think that I should buy something is a Big Deal in my life.)  So I bought myself a copy and... then put the book on hold for a while.  But earlier this month I picked it up and devoured the book (in the literary fashion, not the rumble in my tummy fashion).  It's rather good.  Note to self: if I have daughters, I'm pretty much getting them copies.  (Unfortunately, the tagline is about finding true love.  The author did that to be clever, because she urges you to find true love in Christ, but it's awkwardly misleading when discussing it with others, because I'm not on a quest to find true love, but I would like to read more about deepening my relationship with the Lord.)

Anyhow, it was so good that I bought a copy for a friend who I thought might appreciate it.  Three days after I gave it to her she came up to me and told me she'd purchased seven copies, to give to her friends.  (Then of course I was all like, "Ugh, must I?" but the Lord urged me to buy even more copies, and now five additional friends are gifted with copies.)

A few days later, the same friend came to me and said there was a line in the book that had gotten her to thinking.  The line was something like, "Allow the Lord to use you wherever you are, whether it be in raising children for the Lord alongside your husband, or as a single woman on Wall Street."  The author, I'm sure, meant, you know, the stock market version of Wall Street.  But...  in my neck of the woods a lot of our Sunday School work originated on a street called Wall Street.  So, after reading this line, my friend came to me and said she wanted to be more involved in the Sunday School effort.

"Oh, hey, perfect timing.  I'm having some girls over for supper this week, can you come?"  She made time, and she came.

Insert the night of the dinner.  I was stressed.  I'd forgotten to make cookies (a tragedy worse than DEATH to these kids) and more girls came than expected (which is to be expected, but sometimes I foolishly forget such things), and I was sort of running around like a headless chicken, helping girls make pizzas, keeping them from breaking the trampoline, that sort of thing.

The evening progressed, and I was much occupied with keeping things moving smoothly.  I talked to everyone, tried to get personal conversations in, but...  with a dozen or so (more?  I already don't remember) girls running around, it was rough.

My friend, however, felt the Lord urge her to talk to one of the girls specifically.  To just sit down and get to know her a little better.  To see if she was enjoying the evening and see if she had any questions about the Bible reading we'd had.

"Yeah," the girl wondered, when prodded, "what does it mean exactly to be born again?"

An hour later, I was inside watching the least sensical play EVER, as staged by the girls (I have several versions recorded on my phone, but have no idea how to upload them to Blogger--any advice?) and my friend and the girl wandered in.  My friend rejoicing with the angels; the girl freshly saved.

My friend told me she might not have come but for reading that line in the book.  I wouldn't have thought to invite her except that she brought it up first.  And I honestly don't think I would have made time to talk to that one girl myself.  All these little things work together, and now we rejoice (me with actual tears, because I ALWAYS cry when our kids get saved, haha) because of the reminders of God's abiding faithfulness.

So when I get worn down (interesting note--when I first heard that song I was particularly tired and worn--I begin to see a pattern in my life--and I'm pretty sure I cried.  I seem to cry a lot in these featured stories, sigh) I just have to remember that it's worth it.

Not for my own life, but for their lives, and for His eternal glory.

Your LifeStory (TM) caused me some actual tears, sir

I get LifeStory'd (TM) a lot.

What does that mean?  It means people see me in the grocery store/airport/gas station/walking down the street and they somehow decide that they should talk to me.  A lot.  About their whole life.  I know I've mentioned this before, but that's because it's a real think that happens to me.  Frequently.

And I don't mind.  People tell me that I'll get sick of it, and I'll get jaded, and start presenting an unfriendly face to the world, and... I might.  I hope I don't, but I might.  But for now, people LifeStory (TM) me and I don't particularly mind.

So yesterday, when I was at the mechanic (because yes, I do the car stuff.  Two oil changes, a spare tire, and two brake issues within the past week and a half, if that says anything) this older fellow started talking to me.  This is nothing surprising--they all talk to me.

(I'm not being vain or anything--in fact, in all fairness, I'd usually rather be reading a book than talking to a stranger about his LifeStory (TM), so don't think any virtuous thoughts of me--but people just do talk to me. It's not that I think I'm a magnet for humans, I just...  have that kind of face.  Or something.)

Anyhow, he began by asking if I was waiting long (he'd seen me there earlier with another car, when he first got there, and thought I'd been there for forever.  Which...  basically I was, but only because I brought up three cars in the same morning, haha) and then was talking about how his car didn't have many miles on it, because he doesn't get out much, because he's old, mostly, and his wife had a stroke a while ago and it's hard for her to travel.  I could tell this was building towards something.  People always feel you out to see if you have time, and then when you present your, "Yes, I'm listening," face, they just roll right towards their story.

And I know, this is where I could call it quits.  I didn't have to put my book in my purse when he started talking to me.  I didn't have to get him a drink of water when I saw him struggling up to try to get it himself, but I just couldn't help it.  I'm not sure which comment did me in--the "It's all the radiation treatments I've gotten have just worn me out," or the "My hip replacement from two years ago just didn't take."  Either way, this man needed somebody to help him up and get him his water.  And that's a fact.

Once I got him water, though, we were pals.

So I settled in to hear his story.  Which he told.

Before I tell any of it, I just want to say that usually people tell me their story and I'm like, "Wow, I'm so sorry," or "That's incredible!" and try to throw something in there about the Lord and we go our merry ways.  Very rarely do I actually feel some sort of real pain/sympathy for the person because...  well, I don't know them.  I'm not trying to sound awful, but once I've had the conversation, our time is up.  Chances of us meeting again are slim.  (Unless you're the crazy lady I met at our library who I think sometimes STALKS me because of how often I see her.  But...  she needs the Lord, so I never turn her down when she sees me on the street--how does she always find me??--and asks for a ride to work and stuff.  So we talk and she's still not saved but we're working on it.)

Anyhow, as I said--usually I just enjoy the fact that I can gospel these folks and move right along my way.

So this man started talking about how his wife didn't like him to do yard work, because sometimes he falls and can't get up (it's the bum hip again) and his son-in-law is always like, "I wish my wife would tell me not to do yard work!" and they always get a big laugh out of it.  Well...  step-son-in-law.  This is his second wife he was talking about.  His first wife, he told me, died a few years ago.  Unexpectedly.

She'd had RA for years, and had a number of health problems.  She also had occasional heart problems, and one day she was having heart arrhythmia and so they went into the hospital, and he was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for the cardiologist to come out and let him know if they needed to do anything about it.  Then someone came up to him and addressed him by name, and identified himself as the hospital chaplain.  "This is such a strange hospital," he thought to himself, "that the chaplain knows my name for no reason."

But of course, it wasn't for no reason.  His wife had died.  Out of the blue.  They were in their early 70s, and (besides the serious RA) doing pretty well.  But there he was, sitting along in the waiting room.  They didn't think it was a big deal--they hadn't even thought to call any family members when they brought her into the ER.  Nobody was there with him, and they all lived too far away to call.  Besides, he wasn't a cell phone man, and this was seven years ago.  He didn't have a cell phone, and he didn't carry their kids's numbers on him anyhow.  He is the Lord's, so he wasn't totally alone, but...  sometimes you wish you had another human presence with you.  Someone to take your arm, walk you to where you need to go, and take care of the little things that feel so insurmountable when sorrow strikes.

So they let him come back and see her body.  They gave him her watch and her purse.  He had his moment of sorrow, and when it was done, found his car in the parking garage, got into their car by himself, and drove himself home to their empty house, looking over at the purse that was on her seat--the only part of her that came home with him from the hospital.

And then...  he didn't know what to do.  He called the kids, but they were all far enough away that they didn't get there right away.  Their friends were too old to come in at a moment's notice.  He puttered, and saw on the calendar that she had some appointments coming up, so he called up the doctor's office to cancel them.  "Why are you cancelling an appointment four months early?" the secretary queried.  He explained--"My wife.  She died."--and that was it.  In that moment when he had to say it out loud he let the sorrow overtake him.

He said he was a broken man that day.

Um, you think?  By this point he was crying, and so was I.  We did eventually move on to stories about his grandkids, and the new wife, and how he met said wife number two, and what it was like to move away to his house of 47 years to a new home, and the fact that wife number two had suffered from a stroke just two years ago.  We no longer were crying.  We mopped up our tears and moved on.  Just like in life.  Sorrows come, but...  so do grandkids.  And mundane grocery shopping experiences.  But sometimes there are moments when the tears catch up with you and you need to find a stranger with whom to cry.  And this is my point--I don't usually cry during these sessions.  People will tell me terrible things they've suffered--loss, abuse, trauma, and I sympathize, give them a shoulder to cry on, and walk away extra thankful for my life.

But this man.  Something about his story hit me.  I almost never cry with strangers.  I think the people at the mechanic were surprised as well--they see me in there all the time (if they had a need for somebody to do nothing but answer phones, I would be hired, as they remind me all the time), people chatting me up, and usually I'm friendly and polite, but I don't usually cry.  When it came time for him to go I helped him up and once he was gone they asked me if I knew him.  No.

Or rather, I didn't used to.

But for a few brief moments, he needed to talk.  And in those moments, I listened.  And he didn't just talk, he sorrowed so deeply for a love that was lost.  For the pain of being alone.  And in that moment, I was there.

And I didn't know him before, and I'll probably never see him again, but in that one moment, anyhow, I knew him.

3, 2, 1

(The numbers 3, 2, and 1 have no significance upon this post.  I'm just avoiding cleaning out our van, and writing numbers apparently makes me feel better about the avoidance issue.  Allow me to move on to a post with no real significance to anything.  I just... was thinking about bridesmaid-ing today.  And here we are now.)

I was in a wedding last summer.  Right around the time I stopped posting, in fact.  The wedding didn't make me stop blogging, of course, but it did usher in one of the busiest months ever.  I think I went to nine states and five provinces in the course of two weeks.  The nine states might sound more impressive, but trust me, trekking to five Canadian provinces takes some serious doing.

Anyhow, the wedding was fun.  Super fun.  Super super fun.  There were seven bridesmaids, and we were all crazy and had a ridiculous amount of fun.

I bring this up now because this summer I'm going to/have already started going to a bajillion weddings.  Honestly, you'd think everyone I knew was getting married this year.  Anyhow, in light of that, a bunch of us girls have done a lot of wedding talk, and those of us who were bridesmaids in last summer's wedding have decided that there's almost no way to top the hilarity that was last summer's wedding, so...  basically we've hit the plateau.  No wedding will be as fun as that one was.

We're all hoping to be pleasantly surprised, by the way.  One of the bridesmaids from last summer is going to be in three weddings this summer, and another one in two weddings.  Another is getting married this summer, and the rest of us...  are taking a break from being in weddings.  =)

But seriously, doesn't this look like the most fun ever?

It was.

I blame Louis Daguerre

I was doing pretty well.  Honestly I was.  I was posting pretty often, keeping up with Hopeful Rambles, and then one day, I got a little cocky.  "I can do this," I thought to myself, "I can do this blogging thing.  And because I know I can do it due to my mostly faithful postation thus far, I'm going to go that extra mile.  I'm going to start including pictures in my posts.  I'll finally be that person who makes their blog interesting."

Well.  That worked not at all.  What happened is that I realized that uploading photos is time-consuming.  Words are easy for me, photo uploading is not.  Ergo...  the demise of the blog.

And so.  I'm not going to bother with pictures any more.  (Unless it somehow turns out to be convenient and no hassle whatsoever.)  I can't possibly.

It's currently VBS week but for some reason the guilt of the past year of not posting finally got to me.  So here I be.

Hello.

That is all.