Are you see through?
I’ve been homesick today. We spent a wonderful day yesterday with the cousins for their birthday, and we got to join in with all of Stacy’s family for the family birthday lunch. Her sister and her family were there, and Stacy’s parents and both grandmothers. It was wonderful. We have been immeasurably blessed to have been taken in and accepted by her family since our move.
But sometimes, the day after, I feel lonely for my family. I’ve written about this before, and I really don’t have any different thoughts… just more of the same sadness. But I have been thinking about who share these feeling with… who I tell about various things. Am I completely transparent with everyone? Should I be?
Who do we tell the secrets of our souls?
I like to think of myself as a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kinda girl. If you ask me something, I’ll most likely tell you. And I try really hard to act the same way at work or at the store as I would at home. I may not embrace what I look like, but I am pretty comfortable with who I am, and I try to present that same person everywhere.
The people at work talk about how nice I am, and I suppose they’re right. They talk about how positive I am. But would they say that if they knew the craziness in my head today? If they knew I seriously am paralyzed by the thought that I missed a deadline at work last week? If they knew that I think the cleanliness of my house is a reflection of the contentment of my soul? Or that I think people must think badly of me because I’m overweight because I think badly of myself for that reason? Would they still think the same of me?
And do I trust them enough to share these things? There’s a difference between presenting myself as truthfully as possible and being really transparent with who I am.
I know we can only be really, truly transparent with people we trust. But are there people we only trust with certain things? Certain aspects of our own craziness? Why is it that we trust certain things to certain people? Because those people relate to that particular crazy? Or because that person would approach that aspect in a different way than I would?
Whether he likes it or not, Mike’s the only one I’m always completely transparent with… all the time. There are probably times when he’d rather not know all of the craziness deep inside my head. And I am blessed to have dear friends who learn lots more about me than they probably would like to know.
But in the end, it is with Mike that I am most vulnerable, most honest, most present. And I guess that’s the way it should be. Here on this Earth, as my husband, he’s the one I’m going to share the most with through the years.
There was a time when I could say that I was also always completely honest with God, but I don’t so much feel that way now. I need to work at building that relationship again (and yes, I know I’ve said that before). I know that God isn’t the one who changed or left the relationship. It was me, and I want to change that.
Unfortunately, much like trying to mend a broken friendship, I’m not really quite sure how to start. How do I go about being open and honest and transparent with the One who sees and knows whether I speak or not?
Filed under Faith, Most Everything | Permalink | Comments (2)Tagged with: Faith • honesty • Mike • transparency
Two years… with pretty good results
Today was my two year anniversary with my current employer. I know this because the man who is in charge of my division sent me an email. Who knew?
I honestly never thought I’d be in this position this long. This was the job I took because I needed a job. And I wasn’t very good at it. I was miserable at it for quite some time.
But today, I can honestly say I don’t hate it. And that has been a bit of a surprise to me this last week or so. I get really frustrated and annoyed and discouraged because in a lot of ways, the job is very mundane, always feeling behind the game. But, I no longer feel quite so overwhelmed, and I think I could be okay at this.
Earlier this week, a supervisor asked if an associate from another division could come and sit with me for a few hours to shadow me and see about how the job was done. Now, she said she picked me because I don’t curse (or at least I use very mild curses comparatively), but there are others who probably meet that description. I have to believe it’s because she and my supe believed I was doing well enough to give someone a reasonable overview.
Now, I know they do sometimes request things of me as a default because they know of my professional background. They can trust me to acknowledge the difficulties of the job while not presenting it only in a negative perspective. But still, I’m choosing to see this as positive.
But more than the work itself, I do still believe that God intends for me to be here. I’m frustrated on many days because I don’t have a lot of common ground with the people around me. I do miss being surrounded by women who shared my faith. But I know that I’m where I am for a reason. I know because I have too many people comment about how nice I am or how positive my attitude is, especially given how not nice I think I am or how lousy I think my attitude is some days.
I know because people continue to confide in me, things that I don’t necessarily want to know. I know because I keep having young girls (okay, women, but come on, at my age, 25 is a young girl) ask me for advice. I’m not big on giving advice, so I know they’re consciously seeking me out. And that can’t be by mistake.
And so, I stay where I am because I believe it’s where God wants me (you know, and to pay the mortgage and for the good health insurance). But today, on my two year anniversary, I’m really, exceptionally grateful that it’s getting easier.
Filed under Most Everything | Permalink | Comment (1)Tagged with: Faith • Work
The suggestion box is open
I’ve read several spiritual books this summer. They were very different from one another. One was a farce written by an atheist that was hysterical but very heretical. It prompted me to think a lot about the way I present myself to the non-Christians around me.
Another was a fictional account of the three days between Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection. It’s a concept I haven’t considered before, and it, too, made me think.
We’ve begun doing a short devotional with the kids a couple of times a week, which has been really super. Mike or I read a little devotional story from a book my parents read to me from when I was a kid. And Griff is reading the passages out loud for us from his Bible. It’s been good for all of us.
I’m finishing a short devotional book, and I’m struggling through a Kay Arthur book right now. I just can’t quite seem to connect to her style or the book itself. But I really need something to be guiding my Bible study.
So I’m looking for suggestions. Throw them at me. Short studies or long ones. I don’t care. Until we actually find a church and have Bible study opportunities there, I’m on my own. So, come on. Help a girl out. Give me some ideas. I’ll even report back when I read and finish the books… prove I really did use your suggestions well.
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A Long Story to Tell
(Thursday update… there are some good comments and observations on this post… be sure to read them when you’re finished here.)
Kellie asked about the story behind our two year absence from church. It’s a long and drawn out story, I’m afraid. I’ll tell it, but I’ll also tell you up front that it’s not that exciting. It’s painful and hurtful and unfortunate but not at all exciting.
Now, I’m quite sure that anyone with half a brain and a newspaper (or internet access, though it kills Mike for me to mention the two as if they were interchangeable), will be able to determine which denomination I will be referring to, but I do feel compelled to be vague.
Mike’s included in this, obviously, but I don’t claim to speak for him. This is me. Get a Diet Coke, settle in. If you’ve got something else to do, by all means, move on. If not, here goes.
Mike and I were both reared in the same religious denomination. We both accepted Christ as young children, and we were reared in homes that were rooted in the love of Christ. All of our parents were Christians, and we saw them pray. Regardless of whatever faults any of our parents might have had, I am forever grateful to each of them for their spiritual guidance when we were young.
In the small town we lived in before we moved to Florida, we attended one church for a lot of years. We were married in that church… had both kids dedicated there… Mike was ordained a deacon there… Griff was baptized there. We were loved there, and that was special.
Mike and I met at the college where I worked and where he was a student and would eventually teach. The school was a highly recognized academic institution that placed a strong emphasis on the spiritual growth of each individual student. Quite frankly, we envisioned ourselves there for somewhere between a long time and forever.
The school was closely affiliated with the state organization of the religious denomination in which we were reared. Unfortunately, that particular denomination has endured some… infighting, as it were … in the past several decades. In Louisiana, the struggle for power took on new dimensions and depths, and the school was a part of that.
Before Mike began to teach, he was a reporter at the state denominational newspaper. Between the two experiences and the various contacts we each had, we had an unfortunate amount of knowledge about what was happening behind the scenes. And what was happening behind the scenes was ugly.
There were (and most likely still are) men and women doing unconscionable things in the name of God. There were people who said they were Christians, who were recognized as leaders in the faith, who slandered the good names and reputations of other Christians in an effort to hurt others or to gain power or to advance themselves. Mike and I both became jaded and cynical and suspicious of people’s motives. We were guarded and hesitant to trust.
Our church was involved in this situation in different ways, and in a lot of ways, I am proud of how the church responded. This was a group of people that welcomed people who were being accused and attacked. It was a place where the hurting were welcome. In some ways, though, it was too much for me. I couldn’t quite stomach the difficulty with the politics and the stress at work, only to have it discussed at church, too. I realize that lots of these dear people needed that outlet, to have a place where they could discuss things openly and still be accepted. For me, though, it didn’t quite work. I needed somewhere that we could just be.
Eventually, the school became a place where Mike couldn’t teach the way he felt was right. We were at times worried for his job, and it became clear that we needed to move on. God was so generous to provide us with an opportunity here in Florida.
When we moved here, we were both so worn out, so stressed and so weary that we just couldn’t face trying a new church right away. We had become disillusioned with organized religion, though not because of our church… instead, because of the denomination in which we first came to love the Lord.
So we agreed that when we began looking at churches, we would try any church that wasn’t in that denomination. That felt so freeing at first. But, oh, my gosh, have you looked at how many options there are out there today?! Ugh. We kept getting frustrated and just not going. And when we did visit somewhere, we were still so cynical that we had nothing but criticisms. It was clear we just weren’t ready.
We’d sleep in on Sundays for a few months & then decide we’d try again. But it was hard to get used to the traditions of different denominations. We’ve worked that pattern for quite some time now.
When I was hired for this job, I vividly remember saying in my interview that I was comfortable asking people questions and working to determine the truth because I expected people to lie to me. I know things are getting better because one of my downfalls at work is that I believe people too much. Everyone says I’m too nice. I know I’ve lost that jadedness, which is really good.
But still, here we are nearly two years without a church. We’ve considered going back to a church from our old denomination. I miss singing the hymns I know by heart. I miss the familiarity of the services… not watching the program to see what we need to do next. And yet, there are things happening within the denomination of my childhood which I cannot support. There are things that are being taught in those churches that I don’t want taught to my children.
I want the community of being in a church. I want the opportunity to worship with other people, to learn and grow in Christ. We need to be in church. We want to be in church, and those are huge steps forward. We’ve agreed to look for a church once Griff’s casts are off and he’s walking well again. We want him to have the opportunity for a fresh start without having to answer questions about his legs.
But when that time comes…
What do you do when you have 60-odd combined years of worship in one way and can’t find it in your heart to attend that kind of church any longer?
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But occasionally, I wanna talk about ME!
There’s been a lot of Griff talk around here lately, and rightly so. (And for those keeping track, he’s doing much better. He’s only had 4 ml of the hydrocodone today, and he bathed for the first time today. Those of you with 9-year-old boys will understand how thankful we all were for that second advancement.)
I haven’t slept through the night since the night before Griff’s surgery. Poor kid. It’s hard to regulate his pain meds at night, so we’re still getting up to give him stuff. But unlike Mike, I can’t go back to sleep quickly. The one really helpful thing I do in the middle of the night is pray. I did that all the time before we moved, and it’s felt really reassuring to me to return to that practice. But all too often, in the midst of praying, my mind wanders…
So I lay there thinking about all of the things I wish I was doing in my life or with my life or the people I should have sent emails or cards to or the people I should have called and didn’t or the laundry cluttering the front room or how I really would like to make more fun jewelry but I need more clasps or how I’ve got less than 15 days now to read that textbook and take the exam or how I need to be exercising but I’m not or how I need to lose about 50 pounds but I haven’t or how I need to go to the post office or the bank or how I really would like to check into taking a yoga class or I wonder if Griff’s gone to sleep yet or I think about how I’m nearly 40 and don’t have my life nearly in the place I thought it would be or where did I put that book I wanted to read or what should I get Mike for Father’s Day or why is it that there are way more things I want/need/ought to do between when the kids go to bed between 9-10 (depending on the kid and the season) and when I want to go to bed between 10-11 (depending upon the day) or….
Whew. Deep breaths. I have the uncanny ability to go through a bazillion topics in a short, worrisome time.
So there’s my neurosis. And here’s what I’m going to do about it for the moment. I’m not saying these are good answers. Oh, please, no. But they feel like functional answers to me at the moment.
In truth, my life’s pretty good. And while it’s not the life I envisioned when I was 16 or 21, it’s a pretty fab life with a husband and kids and family and friends who love me. And while I’d like to be successful at work, I’ve always said I wanted to be successful at home more, and I like to think I’m doing a good job of that.
And I’m going to assume that all of those people who are awaiting emails or cards or calls from me have figured out that Florida Chel is less on the ball with those things than Louisiana Chel was, and they’ve adjusted.
And while I know I need to exercise/lose weight/whatever, I’ve always been happiest when I decided that who I am right now is fine. So that’s the attitude I’m going with for the moment. No more negative Chel comments. You know, or at least fewer.
And I’ll just go buy more clasps and make more jewelry, and once Griff’s moving better, he and Mike will run my errands and do the laundry.
And let’s face it, Mike knows already that he’s getting tickets to see the Astros play the Rays in Tampa in inter-league play for Father’s Day.
And my house, ah my house. Back when it was just me, I kept a lovely house. And when it was me and Mike, it was neat but less lovely. When we added Griff, phoo, I was outnumbered. Now, with Eliza, I quit. We’re just messy. We live like pigs. But I like to think that someday, the kids will look back and think about us all crashing in the living room and playing Wii together and laughing. I hope they remember the laughter. I doubt they’d remember a pristine house.
So, for now, I’m going to give up the worry. I’ve got enough going on without giving myself guilt and worry. Right?
Filed under Faith, Most Everything | Permalink | Comments (3)Tagged with: Faith • Griff • sleep • weight • worries
