I had myself "A Week' a few weeks ago. Nothing horrible happened. There was nothing to grieve (except maybe my pride- I tripped down the stairs while an attractive man was coming up them. I told him to not take the stairs lightly. He didn't understand my humor. All I have to show from the incident is a dented ego and a bruise on my left thigh). There have not been any drastic life changes and despite the injured thigh and hurt pride, I have managed to persevere (imagine that!). No, nothing horrible. Just rough. It was chalk full of tough conversations, hurting hearts, overwhelming thoughts, running from one thing to the other, ending a job without having a new one, trying to figure out why my computer only shows 2/3 of the screen, and way too much physics reading. My precious Rav 4 has also not been herself lately. And so, being the single, 26 1/2 year old woman that I am, I did what I would like to think any other peer would do in the same situation. I went home and told my dad.
"How about this," he says, "if you pay for the emissions test, I'll go ahead and take care of your tabs." A relief floods over me. As he tells me to go grab my keys, for a moment I am irritated. I had an afternoon planned of physics and maybe a nap, then car crap. I check myself and my selfishness, find my keys, and meet him out front. It is a dreary day and feels more like early March than late June. As we drive out of our neighborhood I know what question is coming first. "So tell me what's going on in your life," he says with genuine interest. I smile, so glad he has asked. It doesn't get much better than debriefing life with my dad. Except for maybe chatting about it with my mom and best friends. I hesitate for about a second and then tell him everything. My stresses about classes, money, my future. Boys, lack of boys. My insecurities, my confidences. He understands my sarcasm (ie my love language). I tell him about some of my friends. I talk to him about God. All the while he listens and responds with reassuring responses. Encouraging me to share more. As if he, at 65, can absolutely understand and relate to me.
After I dish it all out in between emissions tests, figuring out my fuel injector issues, and filling my car with gas ("Why don't I go ahead and fill up your tank, sweetheart"), he says the words I don't know I am longing to here. "You know Court, I am just so proud of you." I am shocked. After hearing about all my crap and inadequacies, the man who is most caught up on all of it, is proud of me. We chat about who I'm becoming and what that means. We talk about men and time and how sometimes things with men take time. He makes me laugh about my plights and sees my life as something that has so much hope and so much brightness. He reminds me that there is a bigger plan for my life and in his own way, points me back to Christ. I got into the car earlier in the afternoon feeling like $1.50. By the time we are back home, I feel like a million bucks and then some.
He is not perfect, and he is often (though not always- sometimes he needs my help) the first to tell you that. And our Lord knows we butt heads. Where my mom has the sweet, quieter demeanor of letting things work themselves out, I have embodied the other part of the gene pool that involves passionately verbalizing how I feel, when I feel it. Believe it or not friends, this can at times lead to communication breakdown. Despite, and perhaps even because of his imperfections, my dad is my hero. In a world where a girl can feel like she is nothing without a great career, a husband and babies to show for herself, my dad is consistently present. He humbly loves God. He loves his wife well. And he is proud of his family. Of course I strive to look to God first. But my dad is pretty great.
It's late on a Tuesday night. I have no job to wake up for. No career to focus on. Yet. Not a whole lot of money in the bank account. I am not confident of what my future holds- I am more concerned about what it doesn't. Yet, I will sleep well tonight. I am a girl loved by her dad. Beautifully rreminded of how much intimately more her Heavenly Father must love her.
“You parents—if your daughter asks for a loaf of bread, do you give her a stone instead? Or if she asks for a fish, do you give her a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him!" Matthew 7:9-11
July 07, 2010
May 28, 2010
window washers
I was trying to go above and beyond my nanny duties yesterday, and decided to take care of some laundry. I noticed clothing sizes. And I got angry. Angry that things like sizes and body shapes and attire matter. I know, I know, these thoughts probably carry no clout because of my 5'2" frame, but trust me I think about things like this. For me it's not so much size or body shape as it is boys or achievements or things in my future. Anything other people may see and judge me by. A close friend of mine will confide in me her uncertainty about her new, post pregnant body- seeing old friends, extended family.....her husband's assumed thoughts on it all. It makes me ill. She got a new outfit for a family reunion this weekend and told me she felt, "Good" in it....what does that even mean? Thin? Confident? Secure? All of the above?
Yesterday Daisy and I were practicing clapping in the living room of her 10th floor condo down town. She wants to clap sooo badly and her success rate is up to like 8%. It's been posted in the elevators the past couple of weeks that there would be window washers around and to pull the shades to ease pet anxiety. God forbid our pets get anxious. Anyways, so there we were and I hear a thud outside. A young man is dangling by a rope and its slowly descending onto the balcony as if he's Peter Parker. Could he not just come to the front door and knock?? I walked over to the window and stared. The only thing separating our world being floor to ceiling double paned windows. I was trying to make eye contact and perhaps throw out there a smile that I was hoping would say, "I'm just the nanny! You and I are really no different- I appreciate your work and don't feel awkward while I just cozy on in here with the baby- we won't even notice you!" Unfortunately eye contact was not achieved and I found myself pulling down each and every shade to calm down Max, the dog, who was obviously dealing with some severe anxiety and chest tightness over our new guest.
The above seems like a tangent you say? Well, it is. Just something funny that doesn't happen to me every Thursday. But this morning as I couldn't get my mind off a XXL red shirt, the connection between the two events came to me. We're all just dangling by a rope really. Hoping to land on some firm balcony and hoping it won't be awkward when we do which it inevitably will. Whether it's other people's thoughts on us, our body size, our boyfriends, our not boyfriends, or anything else.....we're dangling. By a thread most of the time. Or so we think. I get angry all over again writing it down. How controlled we are by this thread. How many cruel comments, thoughts, credit debt issues, failed relationships and etcetera are resulted by this thread? It's disgusting. He is the vine- we are just the branches. Apart from Him we can do nothing. NOTHING. Not. A. Thing. And so this morning, I simply grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the thread. The ratted, helpless thread holding me to so many negative thoughts, wants, expectations. And lo and behold I landed on a balcony. And instead of a surprised nanny found my Father offering me a warm drink and lots of time to chat. What took me so long? These past few weeks holding on to this thin line as if it were my safety. I'm glad I just gave it a clean snip. I find two very different approaches to this. One is assuming He'll catch you when you fall, and even telling people you firmly believe He will. And then there's the other approach. Cutting that sick rope and letting Him prove His faithfulness to you. Allowing you to speak from experience.
Daisy is still napping. Snuggled in her fleece Nemo blanket on her parents bed. A perfect life. And as of this morning, it was determined that in His eyes, so is mine. And, thus, is yours. Know that.
Yesterday Daisy and I were practicing clapping in the living room of her 10th floor condo down town. She wants to clap sooo badly and her success rate is up to like 8%. It's been posted in the elevators the past couple of weeks that there would be window washers around and to pull the shades to ease pet anxiety. God forbid our pets get anxious. Anyways, so there we were and I hear a thud outside. A young man is dangling by a rope and its slowly descending onto the balcony as if he's Peter Parker. Could he not just come to the front door and knock?? I walked over to the window and stared. The only thing separating our world being floor to ceiling double paned windows. I was trying to make eye contact and perhaps throw out there a smile that I was hoping would say, "I'm just the nanny! You and I are really no different- I appreciate your work and don't feel awkward while I just cozy on in here with the baby- we won't even notice you!" Unfortunately eye contact was not achieved and I found myself pulling down each and every shade to calm down Max, the dog, who was obviously dealing with some severe anxiety and chest tightness over our new guest.
The above seems like a tangent you say? Well, it is. Just something funny that doesn't happen to me every Thursday. But this morning as I couldn't get my mind off a XXL red shirt, the connection between the two events came to me. We're all just dangling by a rope really. Hoping to land on some firm balcony and hoping it won't be awkward when we do which it inevitably will. Whether it's other people's thoughts on us, our body size, our boyfriends, our not boyfriends, or anything else.....we're dangling. By a thread most of the time. Or so we think. I get angry all over again writing it down. How controlled we are by this thread. How many cruel comments, thoughts, credit debt issues, failed relationships and etcetera are resulted by this thread? It's disgusting. He is the vine- we are just the branches. Apart from Him we can do nothing. NOTHING. Not. A. Thing. And so this morning, I simply grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the thread. The ratted, helpless thread holding me to so many negative thoughts, wants, expectations. And lo and behold I landed on a balcony. And instead of a surprised nanny found my Father offering me a warm drink and lots of time to chat. What took me so long? These past few weeks holding on to this thin line as if it were my safety. I'm glad I just gave it a clean snip. I find two very different approaches to this. One is assuming He'll catch you when you fall, and even telling people you firmly believe He will. And then there's the other approach. Cutting that sick rope and letting Him prove His faithfulness to you. Allowing you to speak from experience.
Daisy is still napping. Snuggled in her fleece Nemo blanket on her parents bed. A perfect life. And as of this morning, it was determined that in His eyes, so is mine. And, thus, is yours. Know that.
April 18, 2010
Pants
I ripped my second pair of pants today in 1 week. The first pair was an absurdly expensive (though worth every penny) pair of jeans. The incident happened when I squatted down to pick up the baby. Right down the groin. Lucky for me the electricians who had just come into the condo to work on the lighting either didn't notice, or were dear enough to pretend not to. I made sure they only saw my front side the rest of our hour and a half together. The second pair tore today. I was pulling a seemingly innocent piece of thread off the seam and they split right down my outter thigh. It was not at all sexy. Just drafty, and I grabbed the baby to go find myself a new pair.
Some of my days are just like this and I am well aware I am not alone in my anecdotal plights. We all have moments where we really do begin to believe the camera crew will come out at any moment. It's funny stuff, “material for the book”, and something hilarious to think about whenever I look at my poor Joe's lying on the floor. It's lame and trite, but I have been thanking God for these moments. Ones like this that are frustrating, but not defeating. Ridiculous, but easily remedied. I have a dear friend whose life is not so simple right now. Something as silly as pants ripping would be another exhausting task to take care of that there is just simply no energy for. None.
On my bad days there is a darkness in the center of my mind- but it is utterly surrounded by light beaming out to Lord knows where- literally. And though I am distressed, anxious, and pissed, I know that my light is bigger than my darkness. My friend radiates light. But she doesn't see it herself. She hears us say it, and writes down what we say, but she doesn't feel it. Does not believe it. Does not feel the warmth. That unknown comfort. Or should I say, Unknown Comfort. For I know who He is and I am able to think clearly about Him (most of the time at least), while she cannot right now.
I am pissed for her. Ticked off. Frustrated. Exhausted. Drained. At times think I am crazy for thinking I can have Hope for her. But you know what? As I was roaming around with her today trying to find a new pair of pants, pushing around our strollers, stopping here and there just to check out different things....it became clear to me that Damn Right I can have hope for her. I do. And I will.
I have vivid memories of being carried around by my dad. The most comforting place in the world....to rest your chin on his shoulder looking out and about at the people behind you. You have no idea where you are heading and you don't care. You are able to walk, but you don't want to. And you are as close to your dad as you possibly can be. Not even considering how his arms must be getting tired, and how it's not really a treat to carry you around. No, you're just content. Watching the world around you. And you are so CLOSE to your dad, yet you can't see his face. This is how it is with my friend. God has become so big and is holding her so closely, she can't even see Him. She's even forgotten who has her....given up on caring where He's taking her....But I see her. She is weary and His arms never get weak. She sleeps (or tosses) at night and He never tires. She sees only darkness and darkness is as light to Him. You don't have to have hope right in this moment, sweet friend. Someday you will need to see it again, to regain that vision and thrive in it. But for right now, rest. We will keep it for you.
Some of my days are just like this and I am well aware I am not alone in my anecdotal plights. We all have moments where we really do begin to believe the camera crew will come out at any moment. It's funny stuff, “material for the book”, and something hilarious to think about whenever I look at my poor Joe's lying on the floor. It's lame and trite, but I have been thanking God for these moments. Ones like this that are frustrating, but not defeating. Ridiculous, but easily remedied. I have a dear friend whose life is not so simple right now. Something as silly as pants ripping would be another exhausting task to take care of that there is just simply no energy for. None.
On my bad days there is a darkness in the center of my mind- but it is utterly surrounded by light beaming out to Lord knows where- literally. And though I am distressed, anxious, and pissed, I know that my light is bigger than my darkness. My friend radiates light. But she doesn't see it herself. She hears us say it, and writes down what we say, but she doesn't feel it. Does not believe it. Does not feel the warmth. That unknown comfort. Or should I say, Unknown Comfort. For I know who He is and I am able to think clearly about Him (most of the time at least), while she cannot right now.
I am pissed for her. Ticked off. Frustrated. Exhausted. Drained. At times think I am crazy for thinking I can have Hope for her. But you know what? As I was roaming around with her today trying to find a new pair of pants, pushing around our strollers, stopping here and there just to check out different things....it became clear to me that Damn Right I can have hope for her. I do. And I will.
I have vivid memories of being carried around by my dad. The most comforting place in the world....to rest your chin on his shoulder looking out and about at the people behind you. You have no idea where you are heading and you don't care. You are able to walk, but you don't want to. And you are as close to your dad as you possibly can be. Not even considering how his arms must be getting tired, and how it's not really a treat to carry you around. No, you're just content. Watching the world around you. And you are so CLOSE to your dad, yet you can't see his face. This is how it is with my friend. God has become so big and is holding her so closely, she can't even see Him. She's even forgotten who has her....given up on caring where He's taking her....But I see her. She is weary and His arms never get weak. She sleeps (or tosses) at night and He never tires. She sees only darkness and darkness is as light to Him. You don't have to have hope right in this moment, sweet friend. Someday you will need to see it again, to regain that vision and thrive in it. But for right now, rest. We will keep it for you.
April 06, 2010
Last Day
My FG and I chatted this morning about the upcoming events and changes; Golden Girls, shaving his face, and me leaving the job were among the top three. He was alert this morning which was good and bad. Bad because I knew it would make me miss him more. Good because any moment with him alert is a good one. We had some coffee, chatted about our evenings, and proceeded to his room. It wasn't any special day. I told him I loved him and he looked at me and smiled. I think he loves me too.
I think of him held captive by his own mind. His own brain and command center betraying him. Many people know who he was and what he did, but few understand who he is now. A gentle, kind, old man with only a few things to say now and again. We danced a lot too. Luckily 880 AM was on a roll. He particularly enjoyed The Very Thought of You. So did I. It's a challenge when one of the people in your life that you are closest too is also the one the most far away.
I sit here now in a shady parking lot downtown. Waiting to start my new job nannying a 5 month old baby. So much joy, so many giggles, and if she starts to decline something is most certainly wrong. It will not be her norm to progressively get worse. She will slowly, but surely grow, babble, sit up, chew, talk, go to college, get married, get a job and live life as an adult. But someday she may be in the same boat as my Favorite Gentleman. Trying to figure out how to paddle that damn boat anywhere but where she is...trying to escape herself only to find that she doesn't remember where she's escaping to or where she's come from.
Surprisingly, the sun came up today anyway. Too large and grand and with too big of a job to pause to ponder my ever changing life. Suffering, joy, having joy despite your suffering...don't these all just stem from change. Good change, horrible change, joyful change...and the sun goes up and comes down despite it all. Like its Creator, its job is to lighten the darkness no matter how dark and shine light nor matter how dampened it may seem by the morning clouds. And so these are my thoughts on the Last Day. Running stream of consciousness. My ever changing life. What's a life if it's not going to change though? It will just move on without us and it's more fun to be on that train then standing at the station hoping it comes back. But the thing is, it doesn't. There's the one stop. Get on, stay there, it's your choice. Thank you friend. You taught me so much about that one change that's the most important. The one we have the most control over and that can make the largest impact. To love anyways. To love always. To love despite.
I think of him held captive by his own mind. His own brain and command center betraying him. Many people know who he was and what he did, but few understand who he is now. A gentle, kind, old man with only a few things to say now and again. We danced a lot too. Luckily 880 AM was on a roll. He particularly enjoyed The Very Thought of You. So did I. It's a challenge when one of the people in your life that you are closest too is also the one the most far away.
I sit here now in a shady parking lot downtown. Waiting to start my new job nannying a 5 month old baby. So much joy, so many giggles, and if she starts to decline something is most certainly wrong. It will not be her norm to progressively get worse. She will slowly, but surely grow, babble, sit up, chew, talk, go to college, get married, get a job and live life as an adult. But someday she may be in the same boat as my Favorite Gentleman. Trying to figure out how to paddle that damn boat anywhere but where she is...trying to escape herself only to find that she doesn't remember where she's escaping to or where she's come from.
Surprisingly, the sun came up today anyway. Too large and grand and with too big of a job to pause to ponder my ever changing life. Suffering, joy, having joy despite your suffering...don't these all just stem from change. Good change, horrible change, joyful change...and the sun goes up and comes down despite it all. Like its Creator, its job is to lighten the darkness no matter how dark and shine light nor matter how dampened it may seem by the morning clouds. And so these are my thoughts on the Last Day. Running stream of consciousness. My ever changing life. What's a life if it's not going to change though? It will just move on without us and it's more fun to be on that train then standing at the station hoping it comes back. But the thing is, it doesn't. There's the one stop. Get on, stay there, it's your choice. Thank you friend. You taught me so much about that one change that's the most important. The one we have the most control over and that can make the largest impact. To love anyways. To love always. To love despite.
26
About three weeks ago I had no idea what I was doing with my life. And I was "ok" with that. Ok meaning that on the outside I tried to appear footloose and fancy free so as to convince myself I really was. And to an extent I wasn't faking it. I really did enjoy all those random trips and random experiences and being able to go or not go to anything based pretty much on the current whim of my heart. But deep down I'm normal and human (gasp!) and there was a definite sense of panic about my future life. Let's just say the song, The Next Thirty Years by Tim McGraw was beginning to terrify me. How is he singing about his next 30? Why I am singing along with him? I apparently have 4 more years to live it up because my next 30 years are going to contain a lot less adventure. And that's supposedly going to be a good thing.....? Heh. All this jargon is to say that though I need structure and routine and plans, not having any of those things the past 3 or 4 years has been incredible. Then I got this email one morning to say that I'd been accepted to grad school. Exciting though it was, the message might as well have said, "Congratulations! Your life is planned out for you from here on out! Not only will we own you for the next two years, you will also continue to owe us financially until you're oh say......35. Luckily we will dump you directly into a career where you will find security, stability, and opportunity until the appropriate retirement age for your generation." I know this sounds incredibly negative and ungrateful. I promise this was not my immediate response. My immediate response was to call mom and dad. I giggled with glee while they freaked out and had a celebration in their motor home. I heard that later that night they each had an extra Guiness to toast me. So the excitement came first. Then the panic. As things have settled in with my heart and I've begun planning I've also been reteaching myself that having a plan is not always a bad thing. It's just a matter of balancing out the planned with spontaneity. Sort of like balancing out my physical age of 26 with my desire to always be at summer camp playing capture the flag and wanting to be 11... Sort of. But in all honesty I really am starting to sink into the idea that things will just be laid out for me on this neat little path (not including life's little bumps...which I tend to have). And that's something that just happens to us.....we make plans and dream about them for a bit, but we have the luxury of changing them and having really fun Plan B's and Plan D's with your best friends. And then something works out. Not even something, but your Plan A. And all the sudden we're faced with real life and a real and tangible future. I realized quickly that my made up future was much more fun. I saw myself living in the middle of no where, but somehow all my friends wanted to be in the middle of no where with me. It included a lot of being outside reading and we somehow all sustain each other with our individual and unique talents and gifts.Don't ask me what we would do tax wise I hadn't gotten that far. But we're somewhere near a river. But this morning I was walking around with a dear friend on a beautiful day and I realized that none of it really matters anyways. As cliche as it sounds, it's not so much the end goal, but how we live during the process of getting to it. Isn't that what they say? And if the end goal is a pretty excellent one well then aren't you just the luckiest thing to ever live? But you know what? You might not ever get there for one reason or another anyways so you might as well just be excited when you wake up one morning and your main plan on the agenda is coffee and a walk through cherry trees with your lovely friend. So I decided I have a choice; to moan and groan about "joining the rat race", working a "9-5 job", and other trite cliches we describe the American society with. OR. I can wake up every morning and choose God whether I feel like it or not. And I'll fill you in on a little secret- the latter option is way more fun.I'm no expert and I'm clearly no Positive Polly, but here in Portland the sun is shining and I've been with some spectacular people and I've come up with my final thoughts here. Life really is what we make of it friends. And in the infamous words of Blink 182, I guess this is growing up.
December 21, 2009
mini fridge
Today was one of those days I have every once in a while which inspired me to write a blog in the first place. Have enough people tell you, "You really need to write these things down" after you tell them about your day and eventually you sit down and actually pound something out.
It started off innocently enough. I woke up late (this is normal). However, today was different in the sense that I did not have a restful sleep thanks to a snorer I shared a bed with last night. I love the woman, but I hate her sinuses with a passion. So though I am normally blessed with sweet uninterrupted sleep (hey I spent years with insomnia, I'm entitled to good sleep in my later years), I woke up this morning feeling exhausted and also realizing that to make it to work on time, the shower would indeed have to go. Looking back on it, my day didn't start off innocently at all. No matter.
So I proceeded along with my day. My FG was quiet today- he's likes that sometimes. I tell him he's being daydreamy, but really I think we both know that it's because he is miles and miles away completely confused. Days like this with him are a little more upsetting. I get through the day and just hope that after a good night's sleep he'll come back.
So basically that was work. The only other thing out of the normal was that I thought I would run home at lunch to grab a book I have been literally SAVING to read as a reward when I was done with my GREs and Chemistry class. I will not mention the title of the book in here ( I do have some pride), but I like to read it every Christmas and if you're a Christian female you know exactly what book I'm talking about. If you don't let's talk...you're faith is not quite complete.
Imagine my distress when I went to my bookshelf and it wasn't there. Big bummer. I called my mom to see if maybe it was at home somewhere. God bless her, she got into my closet and searched through my plethora of books that didn't make the cut to move with me, but also had way too much sentimental value to be given away. She looked and looked and still this book proved elusive. I decided that after work I would make the treck to Barnes and Noble and just buy another copy. Desperate? Yes! And I don't care who knows it. When you're jonesin for a good book, you gotta have it.
After dinner with some friends and a stop at home depot to buy a mini fridge (long story- but here are some key points that should be added in. 1. I lost most of my faith in male chivalry when the gentleman that got the fridge out for me placed it in my arms and said, "you think you can handle that?" Apparently he thought my 5'2" frame could take the weight. 2. I was accosted in the parking lot by three women in a camry wanting to know if I could let them follow me to a gas station so I could pay to fill up their tank. I'll just leave it at that they seeemed a bit suspicious and the girl's Coach purse cost more than my mini fridge.) Ok so all that said and added in for effect, I drove to the Alderwood Mall Barnes and Noble. Remember- I was desperate. I searched the Christian fiction section...there was a literal gap where the book should have been placed alphabetically. I'd come so far I found no reason to abort the mission. So I headed about .25 miles away to Borders bookstore. It's important that I mention the .25 miles. It took me 28 minutes to drive them.
By this point I'm maybe starting to regret the no shower decision this morning. I was feeling a little greasey and a lot grungy. There's nothing like seeing several attractive men in their mid twenties to make a girl wish she would have at least rinsed her hair in the sink. Oh by the way Borders didn't have the book either. Ok this is getting verbose- so to wrap it up, I pick a book I'm certain will be less satisfying and hardly uplifting, and get in line. Needless to say I got in line behind a girl who was showing off her future husband's wedding band to her parents and had a friend and her fiance get in line behind me. It was clear that my adorable friend had showered this morning.
I'm home now at my parents house because it was a closer refuge than my house in Seattle. Plus the whole mini fridge thing....I looked in my closet and found the book. That was 2 hours ago and I have yet to pick it up and start reading it.
I often wonder about days like this. I wondered about last Thursday when I DID shower and was excited to go out with a friend and then got a bloody nose at the bar. I'm sure it drove the men crazy. I've included a photo.
Is God humbling me? Is Satan attacking me? Was it just a weird day? Am I overdramatizing things? (Don't answer that last question). All I know is that I am lucky enough to have a dad who will listen to my whole story, understand why I'm feeling down, and tell me, "Courtney, you are beautiful. Any man would be lucky. Trust me. And don't tell your mom you found the book, it'll make her feel bad."
Thank you Lord for loving me and sending me home tonight to hear these words. And also, of course thank you for inspirational Christian fiction.
It started off innocently enough. I woke up late (this is normal). However, today was different in the sense that I did not have a restful sleep thanks to a snorer I shared a bed with last night. I love the woman, but I hate her sinuses with a passion. So though I am normally blessed with sweet uninterrupted sleep (hey I spent years with insomnia, I'm entitled to good sleep in my later years), I woke up this morning feeling exhausted and also realizing that to make it to work on time, the shower would indeed have to go. Looking back on it, my day didn't start off innocently at all. No matter.
So I proceeded along with my day. My FG was quiet today- he's likes that sometimes. I tell him he's being daydreamy, but really I think we both know that it's because he is miles and miles away completely confused. Days like this with him are a little more upsetting. I get through the day and just hope that after a good night's sleep he'll come back.
So basically that was work. The only other thing out of the normal was that I thought I would run home at lunch to grab a book I have been literally SAVING to read as a reward when I was done with my GREs and Chemistry class. I will not mention the title of the book in here ( I do have some pride), but I like to read it every Christmas and if you're a Christian female you know exactly what book I'm talking about. If you don't let's talk...you're faith is not quite complete.
Imagine my distress when I went to my bookshelf and it wasn't there. Big bummer. I called my mom to see if maybe it was at home somewhere. God bless her, she got into my closet and searched through my plethora of books that didn't make the cut to move with me, but also had way too much sentimental value to be given away. She looked and looked and still this book proved elusive. I decided that after work I would make the treck to Barnes and Noble and just buy another copy. Desperate? Yes! And I don't care who knows it. When you're jonesin for a good book, you gotta have it.
After dinner with some friends and a stop at home depot to buy a mini fridge (long story- but here are some key points that should be added in. 1. I lost most of my faith in male chivalry when the gentleman that got the fridge out for me placed it in my arms and said, "you think you can handle that?" Apparently he thought my 5'2" frame could take the weight. 2. I was accosted in the parking lot by three women in a camry wanting to know if I could let them follow me to a gas station so I could pay to fill up their tank. I'll just leave it at that they seeemed a bit suspicious and the girl's Coach purse cost more than my mini fridge.) Ok so all that said and added in for effect, I drove to the Alderwood Mall Barnes and Noble. Remember- I was desperate. I searched the Christian fiction section...there was a literal gap where the book should have been placed alphabetically. I'd come so far I found no reason to abort the mission. So I headed about .25 miles away to Borders bookstore. It's important that I mention the .25 miles. It took me 28 minutes to drive them.
By this point I'm maybe starting to regret the no shower decision this morning. I was feeling a little greasey and a lot grungy. There's nothing like seeing several attractive men in their mid twenties to make a girl wish she would have at least rinsed her hair in the sink. Oh by the way Borders didn't have the book either. Ok this is getting verbose- so to wrap it up, I pick a book I'm certain will be less satisfying and hardly uplifting, and get in line. Needless to say I got in line behind a girl who was showing off her future husband's wedding band to her parents and had a friend and her fiance get in line behind me. It was clear that my adorable friend had showered this morning.
I'm home now at my parents house because it was a closer refuge than my house in Seattle. Plus the whole mini fridge thing....I looked in my closet and found the book. That was 2 hours ago and I have yet to pick it up and start reading it.
I often wonder about days like this. I wondered about last Thursday when I DID shower and was excited to go out with a friend and then got a bloody nose at the bar. I'm sure it drove the men crazy. I've included a photo.
Is God humbling me? Is Satan attacking me? Was it just a weird day? Am I overdramatizing things? (Don't answer that last question). All I know is that I am lucky enough to have a dad who will listen to my whole story, understand why I'm feeling down, and tell me, "Courtney, you are beautiful. Any man would be lucky. Trust me. And don't tell your mom you found the book, it'll make her feel bad."
Thank you Lord for loving me and sending me home tonight to hear these words. And also, of course thank you for inspirational Christian fiction.
November 25, 2009
he knows my name
“I counted just three leaves left on that tree out there,” Rose observed during coffee hour this morning. I looked out into our courtyard and noted she was right. A small, immature maple tree with spindly branches looked completely naked except for three bright and beautiful orange leaves. A pile of orange-turning-brown leaves lay on the ground beneath. I could instantly relate to the scene. I looked at those three lonely leaves and immediately empathized with them. Clinging on for dear life. Literally. Once removed from the tree they will no longer get the nutrients and supplies they need to survive. Yet they must know they’re going to fall. They see their cohorts laying in a dismal pile below. Winter is nearing. Not the physical winter that we feel and see- when the earth is going through its correct, predicted orbit. No, this winter that’s coming is the season of winter that seeps into my heart, my faith, my confidence, my joy. They all seem to somehow cycle in and out of this winter season. It's my winter soul. The difference in these not so different winters is that this winter soul can rarely be prepared for. I, the leaf, just sway in the breeze, absorbing the sun, supporting my fellow leaves until a sudden storm changes my circumstances and I have one frail stem holding on to my lifeline. One sharp, unexpected wind and I’m a goner. At first glance the tree is hideously ugly- all it’s vivid fall color gone, the branches are so thin, they remind me of some of our more weak and underweight patients. The ones that are just biding their time until God takes them
I am genuinely reminded of the lyrics, “He is jealous for me- loves like a hurricane, I am the tree.” This idea of God’s love being equated to a hurricane terrifies me. For obvious reasons. Is that what happened to this poor little tree? Was it loved so hard, so fiercely that it’s very self-defense mechanism was blown away?
But looking at the tree one more time I notice that the tree, even without its leaves is standing tall and almost proud with the fall morning light shining radiantly on it. Only when the leaves are gone can we see THROUGH the tree, see PAST it on to the other side- to the rest of the courtyard behind it, to the future days, to the light of God’s plan. When the leaves are fully in bloom, beautiful though they may be, we are often distracted by their beauty- not able to have a clear view of God’s deeper and wiser plan behind it.
This morning my Favorite Gentleman and I were shaving his face. He always starts off doing the best he can and then when he gets bored of it I step in and suggest that I do “damage control.” As I was cleaning the razor out and leaning over to scrub a recent breakfast spill off his sweater vest, I found myself saying aloud, “Oh Courtney…It’s ok.” My FG responded in turn simply saying, “Courtney!” loud and bold and clear. “Yes!” I smiled at him, “that’s my name!” “I know,” he said. He looked at me with just a slight bit of irritation in his eyes. “I know your name.” I almost cried. Somewhere in the midst of his disease, his confusion, his internal chaos, he picked up on my name.
When I’m seeing clearly- when I give in and let the leaves fall- every LAST leaf including my very self a God who loves me will answer; a God who cherrishes me and knows me by name.
I am genuinely reminded of the lyrics, “He is jealous for me- loves like a hurricane, I am the tree.” This idea of God’s love being equated to a hurricane terrifies me. For obvious reasons. Is that what happened to this poor little tree? Was it loved so hard, so fiercely that it’s very self-defense mechanism was blown away?
But looking at the tree one more time I notice that the tree, even without its leaves is standing tall and almost proud with the fall morning light shining radiantly on it. Only when the leaves are gone can we see THROUGH the tree, see PAST it on to the other side- to the rest of the courtyard behind it, to the future days, to the light of God’s plan. When the leaves are fully in bloom, beautiful though they may be, we are often distracted by their beauty- not able to have a clear view of God’s deeper and wiser plan behind it.
This morning my Favorite Gentleman and I were shaving his face. He always starts off doing the best he can and then when he gets bored of it I step in and suggest that I do “damage control.” As I was cleaning the razor out and leaning over to scrub a recent breakfast spill off his sweater vest, I found myself saying aloud, “Oh Courtney…It’s ok.” My FG responded in turn simply saying, “Courtney!” loud and bold and clear. “Yes!” I smiled at him, “that’s my name!” “I know,” he said. He looked at me with just a slight bit of irritation in his eyes. “I know your name.” I almost cried. Somewhere in the midst of his disease, his confusion, his internal chaos, he picked up on my name.
When I’m seeing clearly- when I give in and let the leaves fall- every LAST leaf including my very self a God who loves me will answer; a God who cherrishes me and knows me by name.
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