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Melodramatic Moments - 3/1/2006 12:50:36 PM
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1lightseeker
Posts: 499
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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I hope that this blog gives expression to the writer, singer, actress, in short, the artist wannabee within me. I make no guarantees for consistency of style, content, time spent, or even opinions expressed, as sometimes I change my mind. I will probably stoop to employ clichés and song lyrics, because I like them better than milk toast. I don’t expect to deliver life-changing truth or profound statements, only quircky, wry, take-it-or-leave-it, sometimes too serious, otherwise too flippant, melodrama. I will, however, endeavor to be faithful to the truth of the moment.
To begin with, the picture to the left is of Maria Falconetti playing Joan of Arc in the 1928 silent film, La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc. I recommend this movie. I admire the way Joan is portrayed as believing her mystical experiences, and remains faithful to them when religious people sought to shame, guilt, and kill her. You can probably see by now that this would appeal to melodramatic me.
My blood sugar’s getting low, so I better go drink my protein shake and take my vitamins before I say something too depressing. I’ll leave you with a song. This is for you, Joan.
To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where
the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march,
march into hell
For that heavenly cause
And I know
If I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart
Will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest
And the world will be
better for this
That one (girl), scorned
and covered with scars,
Still strove with (her) last
ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star.
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RE: Melodramatic Moments - 3/1/2006 1:47:26 PM
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1lightseeker
Posts: 499
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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Sing a song of six-pence
A pocket full of wry…
Okay, bio info. I’m 39 ¾! Not that I’m panicky, but this approaching milestone deserves some consideration. Now I’m at the age of, “now you should know better”. We’ll see.
My husband is 45 and has been in this decade since two years after we were married. He’s a little more gray than most his age, but other than that, he’s survived pretty well. We’re both sad that we didn’t find each other when we were younger, but we can’t go back, can we?
He had three boys when we met, and I had a boy and a girl about the same age as his kids. Now we also have a newly turned five-year-old daughter who is working on loosing her third tooth. We homeschool all of them, but I cheat by using a video classroom for the three high-schoolers and the kindergardner. I’m sure you know why I use it for the older ones, chemestry, geometry, and all. But the reason I use video for kindergarten is for the visuals, kiddie-songs, and phonics drills. There’s just so much “b-b-b, a-a-a, b, a, ba” that I can take. Plus, they like their teachers and participating with virtual kids.
Right now my two girls are hanging out at my mother’s house – the eleven-year-old will have to make up her school tonight, and the four boys, who are older than the girls, are eating their self-made peanut butter and banana tripple decker sandwiches with The Works pototato chips. In preparation for Lent, we cut out meat this week. I let my kids have dairy even during Lent as we can make adjustments according to the needs of kids and medical conditions. Luckily my soy protein with water shakes that I already drank for breakfast and sometimes lunch fit in great with Orthodox fasting. I used to drink them for weight-loss, but since they make me feel so much better, I’ve stuck with it.
Cheers!
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RE: Melodramatic Moments - 3/1/2006 4:25:43 PM
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1lightseeker
Posts: 499
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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Wow, I’m getting into blogwriting. However after reading through the other blogs, I feel like I’ve not been grateful enough for my life. It’s inspiring to read the thankful attitudes of others in the midst of difficulty. Thanks for the star distribution as well, whoever that was.
More bio – I was born a poor…
Seriously, I really was born. And didn’t grow up with much money, comparitively speaking. I was the third, last and only girl child. While my mother was pregnant she knew from God that I’d be a girl and have blue eyes. She told me this since before I can remember. I was also her third C-section. She’d originally wanted 6 kids, but when my oldest brother nearly died from having the cord wrapped around his neck and had to be delivered by emergency C-section, she was told that 3 was the maximum number of children she could have by that method. So I was her last chance for a girl.
Her knowing this about me made me feel pretty special growing up, despite being molested by a teen-age boy when I was three. I barely remember it, and had always thought I’d had a bad dream until I asked my mother about it as an adult. Besides, there were too many details that I wouldn’t have known about. Anyway, I guess someone heard me yelling, “No!” and opened the door before more damage could have been done.
I also almost died of pneumonia when I was a baby. My parents said I was sitting in my high-chair at dinner then suddenly got quiet and started turning blue. At the hospital they put me in an oxygen tent and said I may not last the night. Apparently I did.
Other than that I had a pretty happy childhood. I loved horses, movies, music, and was pretty well-behaved. But in second grade, I began to fear being forgotten if dropped off somewhere. My mother says it started when we got separated by an aisle at a grocery store. That I panicked. That’s the first I remember of feeling afraid in public. Also, since high-school I feel easily self-conscious and feel negatively evaluated by people. I can just imagine how I’m falling short in people’s eyes. Even now. That they’re thinking 100% of the other people on CW have a better attitude than I do. I agree. I’m paranoid that way.
Where my parents too critical? My mother was valedictorian of her class at Bob Jones University, class president, an English teacher, missionary Puerto Rico until she broke her back at the ocean (she miraculously can walk – the doctors say by will power), etc. etc. etc. Hard to live up to. My dad is an engineer in the air-conditioning field, who’s had many downs and smaller ups with his jobs. His dad was an alcholic, so he had a dysfunctional homelife.
Anyway, my feelings about being criticized by others are pretty much my biggest concern in life. It’s almost paralyzing. I enjoy fellowshipping on CW, even though criticisms can abound, and I wonder if cyber-people may have some of the same feelings I do, and that’s why we’re cyber-people. Because being vulnerable to others and being opened up to face to face criticism by someone who knows you in person is impossible to take. Also, I’m probably too critical of others and my own kids as a result. Lord have mercy. But criticism is a necessary thing if one wants to improve. It’s hard to know which to receive, and hard to throw away the rest.
I trust in God, though, to fix me in His time, with the help of His Saints, including my fellow CW’ers.
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RE: Melodramatic Moments - 3/2/2006 10:18:07 AM
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1lightseeker
Posts: 499
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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Another life-changing event happened when I was 12 years old. A friend invited me to go horseback riding on Dec. 21, 1978. It was fun until we reached the half-way mark and decided to turn back. The horse got a little anxious for the barn and took off. Due to my inexperience, I let go of the reigns to clutch the saddle horn. The world got blurry, and then when the horse made a sudden turn and was about to run across the creek, I remember leaning to the left and then sitting in the mud with my arm in my lap. I was still in shock, and I didn’t try to move it, but I knew it was broken.
My friend went back to the barn to call her mother. When she finally came, she pulled my sweater-jacket down my arm, and I peeked for just a second. There were weird dents and protrusions all around my elbo. I couldn’t look again until after the surgery. So they take me to the hospital and I’m getting an excruciating xray as they placed that cold plate under my jumbled up arm, but I still hadn’t cried. Then I saw my mother’s face in the window of the xray room. That’s when I lost it.
They said they might have to amputate. I didn’t know what to expect when I woke up from the surgery. I remember waking up feeling very nauseated, in pain, and finding my arm suspended over my head in a white sling. They told me I was in traction with a pin running through my elbo to keep the tension. I’d be in the hospital for a month.
I don’t think my brother’s forgiven me yet for having to spend Christmas in the hospital with stockings hanging from my traction apparatus. My mother says my personality changed while I was there. I became more withdrawn. I was flat on my back, unable to even raise the head of my bed up to eat, and had to use a bedpan. Plus, they had to tuck the hospital gown under my arm, which was really embarassing to a girl in puberty. Later another friend’s mom made me some gowns with snaps on the sleeves. But she wouldn’t come in the room to give them to me because the pin sticking out of my elbow was too gross for her.
I felt like a freak show when people came to visit me. It was very embarassing. I didn’t want to be alone, either. I was very depressed unless one of my parents were there, partly because I hated bothering the nurses for a bedpan. I grew to love TV during that time. It was better than counting the dots on the ceiling. I couldn’t really read because it was hard to hold a book with an IV in my other hand. Plus I couldn’t raise my head up. My dad would spend the night, and my mother stayed during the day. Some friends would try to give her a break, but that made me very depressed. I got to where I wouldn’t say goodbye to visitors because I knew that they would linger another 5 minutes or so. For some reason it was excruciating to know I'd have to say goodbye to them again. So I’d just force a smile when they said goodbye, and wait for them to start to go out the door. Then I’d say it. I remember one of my roomates who was there for a couple of days and her mother talking and obviously thinking the curtain was thick enough so that I wouldn't be able to hear. They were saying what a bad attitude I had, and how people should make the best of things, and how she was going to be cheerful even though this was her second leg operation. That just made me feel worse.
I lost a lot of weight, though. And I got some cool stuffed animals. I think this experience is why I later decided to be a nurse. My dream of being a missionary to Africa also started to develop after this, but more on that later.
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RE: Melodramatic Moments - 3/2/2006 2:14:18 PM
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1lightseeker
Posts: 499
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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Since my five year old was at Gran’s yesterday, she missed school. Rather than have her watch double videos today, we’ll just do the worksheets that she missed. One was writing their name in cursive for the first time. I don’t know why Abeka has kids start out writing cursive instead of printing. My other kids printing is kind of sloppy because of it, but I don’t guess it’s that big of a deal. I asked her if she just wanted to write “Rebecca” or “Rebecca Rose”. She opted for the latter so we’ll see. I’m waiting for her to finish coloring and cutting out her daddy picture. I chose Abeka originally because of all the pretty pictures they use to illustrate their books.
Ben, turning 15(! – he’s my bio oldest) and Rachel (11 and turning into a woman!) are trying to decide if they want to go with their dad and his new family next weekend to Galveston. I’m pretty uncomfortable with it because he married his ex sister-in-law, Aunt/now Step-mother Rose. This kind of weirds me out and I hope they don’t share a room with them. But if they do, the boys will hopefully be in one bed and the girls in another. When he married her two summers ago, the kids said they weren’t comfortable spending weekends with him anymore for that and other reasons. He didn’t give them that hard of a time, thankfully. Since then they’ve just spent occasional dinners and a few days at his house, but no overnights. The other family also doesn’t have the same values we do with language, entertainment, or religion (he doesn’t believe in the Trinity for example). I know my feelings of rejection by him color my view of him as well, and I’ve probably prejudiced my kids against him a bit. They have mixed feelings about going because of the Johnson Space Center, Moody Gardens, and Flight Museum that he’s suggested they go to, plus they haven’t spent that much time with their cousins/step-brothers in a while. Ew. That’s so weird to type. Lord have mercy. Please pray for them. Thanks.
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Joy - 3/2/2006 5:04:19 PM
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1lightseeker
Posts: 499
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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In an article called “Uncreated Joy”, Fr. Thomas Zell tells the story of his mother whose middle name is Joy. She was the child of an abusive alcoholic and did not have a happy home life, to say the least. He says that while she was alive, she struggled to be happy, and one Thanksgiving, she was asked to pray and couldn’t think of anything to be thankful for. Inspired by her name, he then goes on to describe three different types of joy in the Bible.
Xairo has to do with physical comfort and well-being.
Euphraino means festal joy, “to gladden or to cheer up”.
He said his mother had difficulty maintaining these feelings. I identify with her. But it was the third type of joy that I have experienced and believed in, in the midst of it all.
“Uncreated Joy
The third and final word for “joy” in the Bible – and my favorite – is agalliao (pronounced ah-ga-lee-ah-o). This word is unique in almost every way.
For one thing, even the word itself has an unworldly quality about it. One reference work translates the noun form as “wild joy, ecstatic delight, exultation, exhilaration.” I like that. Quite possibly, the word agalliao is derived from a more ancient verb that meant “to leap or spring or gush up.” Think about a clear fountain of water bursting forth from some unseen source, merrily splashing and bubbling out its life-giving waters, and you are about there.
For another thing, the word is unique in that it is found only in the Scriptures themselves, or literature relating to the Old or New Testament, not in ancient literature outside the Bible. It is a uniquely biblical word – by design – and describes a kind of joy that is unkown to the outside world system. For centuries this word has remained a biblical word, a way of expressing the unique joy that springs up from the eternal well of God’s salvation and His revelation of His saving acts.
The reason this word is so uniquely Judeo-Christian is that it most often refers to the pure joy of worship, both public and private. This is a worship which embraces “even the created universe, the silent witnesses to God’s mighty acts”(Colin Brown).
Psalm 42:4 expresses it well: “When I remember these things, I pour out my soul within me. For I used to go with the multitude; I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept a pilgrim feast.”
In the New Testament, The angel of God used it when he announced to Zacharias that in the birth of John, he would “have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth”. John the Baptist expressed it when he “leaped for joy” in the womb of his mother as she came into the prsence of Mary and her unborn Child.
Mary quoted it from the Old Testament when she exclaimed, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant”. It was revealed that at the Incarnation, at the coming of Christ, our salvation had indeed become most clearly manifested. God was and is indeed with us. His salvation is at hand – in a highly individualized sense. God came to us!
Agalliao – pure joy – comes from the worshipful heart of a true Christian.
A final, unique aspect of this kind of joy in the New Testament is that true joy – agalliao – is both a sign and a state of the Kingdom that is to come.
On the Sermon on the Mount, our Lord Himself commanded His followers to “rejoice(xairo), and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven”
Later we read in Jude 24-25: “Now to Him who is able to keep your from stumbling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to God our Savior, who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen.
And in 1 Peter 4:13: “But rejoice to the extent that you partake of Christ’s sufferings, that when His glory is revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy.”
And finally in Revelation at the consummation of the age, John hears the voice of a great multitude praising God and saying, “Let us be glad and rejoice and give Him glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His wife has made herself ready.”
No, Mom didn’t experience much of the joy this world had to offer – even when it was truly and genuinely hers for the taking, right in front of her eyes. There were scars there and deep wounds that would not find healing in this sad world.
Yet by the end of her life, I believe she had turned a corner towards finding the true meaning of the word Joy in her name. Having suffered much in this world, and having brought a fair amount of that suffering upon herself and others, I believe she broke through at the end and found her way to true, uncreated joy.” (from The Handmainden, Conciliar Press)
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RE: Joy - 3/3/2006 12:01:58 PM
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1lightseeker
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Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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After some soul-searching, I decided to go ahead and encourage Ben and Rachel to go to Galveston with their dad. It’s scary the amount of influence I have over them. I could tell they wanted to go, but did not want to feel guilty about spending time with a “bad influence”. I asked them that when they call him back to make sure of the sleeping arangements – there’s a long story about that – before they agreed to go. Ben’s had to grow up quickly to keep an eye on her for me while they’ve gone with him. He’s renting two rooms and Rachel will have a bed to herself. Schwew. I guess Aunt/Stepmother has influenced their other dad to spend a little more money on trips, thank the Lord. So now they’re all excited, and I don’t feel as betrayed as I used to that they want to go with him. The Lord is merciful. He and time feel like slow healers of wounds.
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RE: Joy - 3/3/2006 4:19:14 PM
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1lightseeker
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From: Texas
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Another benefit to breaking my arm so badly, was that when I was discharged from the hospital, I got to miss going to school for a few months. A home-bound teacher was assigned to come to my house once a week to give me my assignments while I had further surgeries, therapy, and new pins in and out of my arm. My grades improved dramatically. I think I’d been stressed going from private to public school in 6th grade, then to public jr. high. My grades had gone down a bit. But with the peacefulness of home, and less distractions, I started making straight A’s with little input needed from the homebound teacher. I guess this is part of why I believe in homeschooling.
When I went back to school, everyone wanted to see my scars. I dreaded all the attention. Same went for when I went back to church the first time. Everyone lining up like cars do when there’s an accident on the highway. I think they call it rubber-necking. Why do we do that?
Things settled down eventually and got back to normal, as far as activities I could do. But I still have the scar and I can’t straighten my elbow all the way. My range of motion and strength in my left arm are a lot better than they predicted, though. Praise the Lord.
10 years later, when I was a summer-camp nurse in south Texas, the wrangler took me out riding one Saturday after the kids had gone home. This was the first time I'd been back in the saddle. I was determined that I would stay in control of that horse and not drop the reigns again. There was a beautiful open meadow along the Guadeloupe River, and I decided this was the time to show I'd learned my lesson. I kicked the horse to a trot, then to a gallop. I had the reigns in my right hand and my other hand dangling loosely at my side, enjoying the wind on my face and in my hair. It was glorious. I steered him around boulders and in different directions around the meadow. I even smiled and waved at the car that went by on the little road that lead up to the hilltop camp. I wasn't scared at all. Yee-haw.
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Cards and Letters - 3/4/2006 11:31:37 AM
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1lightseeker
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From: Texas
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I knew that most of the people who came to see me in the hospital and greeted me when I returned to school and church genuinely cared about me. They had been praying for me, and were glad to see me. I don’t know why I reacted, and still do, so negatively to it. However, I don’t want to be ignored either. The reason I like CW is that I get to take the time to think about what I want to say, and reveal what I want to reveal. I guess I felt out of control and over-exposed during the aftermath of my accident. When I’m around someone who’s self-conscious, I look away, but I don’t ignore them. I feel that they don’t want to be ignored, but that some contact is too intense. That’s it. I became hyper-sensitive in my interactions with others. Staring became aggressive to me, where I probably didn’t even notice it before. It’s ironic that I want people to read my blog, but it’s like slipping notes under the door rather than making a speech. I think I would have preferred that most people sent cards while I was in the hospital.
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Horse lover - 3/4/2006 1:53:28 PM
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1lightseeker
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Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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Hello,
Welcome to my blog.
One of my earliest church memories is when I was 4 or 5, and all the kids’ classes were meeting in the sanctuary. I remember them calling kids up on the stage who had just asked Jesus into their hearts. I was very surprised when they called my name. I dazedly went up there, and the teacher sitting in a chair on stage put her arm around my back and said that my parents had told her that I had done this. I didn’t remember praying The Prayer, but I knew that I loved Jesus and looked forward to going to heaven, so I guess that’s about when I became a Christian.
I also remember when I was about 5 my mothers’ shocked reaction when I told her I wanted to die and be with Jesus right now. I think I even mentioned a knife in the kitchen. She told me not to talk that way. But Sunday School made me excited about going to heaven when I die. Why wait? This was a big question to me growing up. I thought being a Christian was going to heaven when you die to be with Jesus, what else was there?
I asked Jesus into my heart again when I was seven during Children’s Church just in case I hadn’t done it right the first time. I felt pretty sure after that so I didn’t feel I needed to do it again. I remember during our nightly family prayer times that we had till I was in Jr. High that my dad would read the Bible, then we would all go around and pray. My brothers and my prayers were always the same. “Dear Lord, thank you for dying and please forgive me for my sins. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
My passion during this time, and what occupied my thoughts while I was waiting to go to heaven was horses. I remember getting my first plastic horse when I was four or five, and connecting immediately with it. I didn’t collect barbie dolls like my friends. It was plastic horses. My favorite TV show was “Fury”. Anyone remember that? I’m surprised Nick at Night doesn’t play the reruns. It was great. Joey, a young teenage boy had a wild horse black stallion friend who would visit him when he was lonely or in trouble. He also had a little twirp human friend named Pee Wee who seemed to get in trouble with him. My mentally challenged, two years older brother, Jeff, and I would play plastic horses inside, and “Fury” when we were outside. I was always Joey and he was always Pee Wee. He always let me have my way when we played, because all I had to do was threaten to not play anymore, and he’d give in. I got first pick of the horses, all the best blocks to make their fences and stables, and I got to be Joey. We had a special way of running when we were riding our air-horses. Anyone else think that new shoes made you run faster?
From age 8-12, I read every horse book I could find. The Black Stallion series, Margarite Henry’s books like Misty of Chincoteague, and the My Friend Flicka trilogy. In all these stories, the horses had a mystical bond with the special child, and was miraculously tamed by this special connection and understanding. I loved it and got very wrapped up in it. I wanted this bond with a horse, and thought the horse would recognize me as one of the special people. I would cry sometimes because I wanted a horse so badly, knowing there was no way we could afford one, and no place to keep it in our suburban home. Meeting Susan in 6th grade was a gift from above. She had two horses that she boarded at a near-by stable. It was my first ride with her that lead to my accident. I felt very betrayed and dissilusioned that the horse wanted to go back to the barn to eat rather than mystically read my mind and protect me. After this experience, plus entering into adolescence, I switched to classical romances like Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. Hey, maybe that’s another reason why I didn’t want to read in the hospital. My genre had lied to me.
< Message edited by 1lightseeker -- 3/4/2006 5:54:05 PM >
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RE: Horse lover - 3/5/2006 11:00:38 PM
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1lightseeker
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From: Texas
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Another interest I developed as a kid was playing the piano. My grandmother gave us their piano for some reason, and after a babysitter entertained us on it one night, I decided I wanted to learn how to play. I took out our Christmas Carol book, asked my mom where that middle note in the book was on the keys, got a pencil and numbered all the notes as to how far away they were from middle C. She even let me number the keys. I still have that book with the numbers, even though the piano, numbers erased, got sold. Another piece with numbers on it is Nadia’s Theme. I got the sheet music for Christmas after the 1976 Olympics. The next year, I finally got piano lessons. The year after that, I broke my arm and had to quit the lessons. At least I’d learned how to get by without counting the notes from C.
Playing the piano became my outlet after my arm healed, though I didn’t continue my lessons until I graduated from jr. college. With my babysitting money, I would get dropped off at C&S music company by my oldest brother, and after a day of trying out tons of music and brand new grand pianos, I would purchase a couple of my favorites. I loved “Moonlight Sonata”, “Fur Elise”, and other songs in my Easy Piano Classics book. I also liked folk music, “the music of your life”(40’s-60’s) on my favorite radio station, show tunes, pop music, and contemporary Christian music, as well as the old hymns. Amy Grant became my favorite with El Shaddai and Sing Your Praise to the Lord. When I would hear a song on the radio that I particularly loved, I would just have to try and play it. I wanted a deeper participation than just singing along. Some of my best times with friends or my middle brother have been sitting at home playing and singing together at the piano. Babysitting at a house with a piano and music books was a lot of fun. I remember twin preschool girls dancing around while I played The Entertainer. That’s how I got my start, so maybe they eventually learned to play.
Music has always been my best vehicle for expressing myself. Not to others, but just in letting pent up stuff out. Now I have an electronic piano with cool instruments and drums. I kind of doubt people are getting what I’m feeling when I play Bach’s Invention # 14 extra loud with a synthesizer and drum-set combo, but it sure makes me feel better. Even though I don’t play as much since I had kids, music has never let me down.
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RE: Horse lover - 3/6/2006 10:38:43 AM
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1lightseeker
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How to refer to my sons that came to live with me almost 7 years ago? They call me, “Mom”, so to call them my stepsons seems like I’m keeping more distance than they are. I’ll just call them “son”, but if you want to keep track, George’s boys’ names start with J. Yesterday at church, people were giving me thumbs up about how well Jared, almost 16, read the pre-Lenten epistle on not judging those who fast or those who don't. I was pretty proud of him myself. He’s thinking about becoming a priest or monk some day, and the way he chants takes me to a higher place. Sometimes I have to really work at concentrating during readings, but Jared communicates that he is in the moment. Anyway, I was feeling all proud as a mother, but then thought, he’s George’s, and he deserves the credit. I just happened along later. I know that to God be the glory, and I also am glad in the interest Jared takes in spiritual things on his own. Who knows if my influence has anything to do with it. I’ll just leave that up to God to deal with.
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PM's - 3/6/2006 11:17:49 AM
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1lightseeker
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I just got notified that my PM box was full, so I just emptied it. I hadn't checked it in a while because I hadn't been getting emails that I had new messages and now I know why. So if any of yall have tried to PM me, I would welcome a retry!
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Too many on the trampoline - 3/6/2006 6:20:23 PM
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1lightseeker
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Jeremy and Rachel make Rebecca’s bright pink warm ups, fair skin, and dark mop of hair bounce on the trampoline like a pile of beans on a drum.
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RE: Too many on the trampoline - 3/7/2006 9:34:02 AM
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1lightseeker
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So, as I said, I switched to Classical Romance books after my accident. This was really more of the same. The dream man, similarly to the dream horse, has a special connection to the “special” girl in distress. He miraculously shows up when she needs him and loves her beyond all reason. So my focus shifted in that direction and I desperately desired a man to be that for me. Thus began my string of crushes on unattainable men. At 13-15 it was the single pastor at church, in high school and a few years after, it shifted to the single youth minister (I think married youth ministers are probably a better idea). These were all unrequited, and the boys who liked me didn’t fit the bill of the dashing hero. How could they? Then right before my 20th birthday, I met the one I knew was all I dreamed about. Another single pastor who was 12 years older than I. His blue eyes told me that he understood all my deep complexities, and felt deeply connected to them. They told me I was the one he’d been searching for as well. He even came to sit by me when his friend was leading the evening service. When he found out I played the piano, he asked me to play for the church. I really wasn’t good enough but it was a very small church and there wasn’t anyone else. He played the piano too and had been doing double duty. At his birthday party which was right before mine, I told him my birthday was in a few days and he asked me how old I was going to be. When I said 20, his beautiful intense eyes turned into icesickles. Only slightly daunted by this, I determined that he’d soon enough realize that I was mature enough to get married, and that age didn’t matter.
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RE: Too many on the trampoline - 3/8/2006 10:34:06 AM
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1lightseeker
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Let me back up and say that the year prior to this, my mother’s friend’s son expressed an interest in me to his mother, and word got back to me. I was shocked because he looked like Robert Redford, was my oldest brother’s age (23), and was really cool. So our mothers organized a party where we exchanged glances and smiles. He even sat by me. I was a bit shy and don’t remember saying much. Then a month later or so, while I was dating other boys on a purely platonic on my end level, he asked me out and we went to the Botanic Gardens. We had a nice time, he held my elbow if we walked over a fallen tree or stream, and were both very polite. I waited for him to make the romantic overtures. That didn’t really happen, and I was confused. Then a few months later he brought his guitar over to my house and played for me. I was anxious to show him how I could play the piano, as well. I think he thought I was competing or something. Anyway, he left with no progress. There was one other family gathering a few months later, and nothing really happend. So this is how the year went and finally my mom said his mom said he was used to girls making the move. I guess Robert Redford is too. So nothing really came of it. But I did learn that guys like a little more show of interest, and don’t really act like they do in Jane Austen books.
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Summer Camp - 3/8/2006 11:30:30 AM
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1lightseeker
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So why was I so “desperate” to find the special man who would appreciate how special I was? I don’t know. But there seems to be two motivating threads in my life that eventually diverged in my early 20’s. When I was 15, I first went to that Christian summer camp in South Texas by the Guadaloupe river that I spoke of earlier. There are two things that captured my attention that week. One was a camp counsellor, who I ended up writing one letter to, unanswered, and the other was the notion that Christ wanted a relationship with me now, that involved every second of my day, not just when I get to heaven. This was a major light-bulb week. We had Bible study and lectures twice a day, as well as individual Bible study, and discussions with our counsellors every night. It was intense.
The formal Bible study teacher was a dramatic lady who made the Old Testament come alive. She taught us about the story of Jacob and Esau, with the theme centering around, “Jacob have I loved, and Esau have I hated.” How Jacob passionately went after God, while Esau sold his relationship for a bowl of soup. Even though Jacob sinned, and suffered the consequences, God blessed him and even wrestled with him in person, while he was still alive on the earth. This meant so much to me, because as I shared earlier, I thought Christianity was going to heaven after you die. Christ wants to be the Lord of my life, here on earth. He’s that interested.
This impacted me so much, I started reading the Bible on my own and memorizing verses. I started listening to Christian radio preachers every day like Chuck Swindoll, John McArthur, and my favorite at the time, Charles Stanley. It was as if previously my pastors had sounded like the adults on Peanuts cartoons, but after that camp experience, they made sense!
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RE: Summer Camp - 3/9/2006 9:26:18 AM
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1lightseeker
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I’m not quite ready to leave my teen years. These were the purest of my life, except the summer when I turned 13 and found a stack of dirty magazines in the Christian house I was babysitting in. That was educational. At least the guilt got to me, so I stopped going to that bathroom even though I babysat there every day while the mother worked.
So I was pretty on track with God through highschool, and that’s when I got focused on becoming a missionary nurse to Africa to, in the words of Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express, “take care of little brown babies”. I think the CARE and Sally Struthers commercials started it. I read “Out of Africa”, “Praying Hyde”, and some other missionary books that my Sunday School teachers had given me. The husband had wanted to be a foreign missionary as well, but the Southern Baptist board ended up sending them to Florida instead.
Meanwhile, when I was 16, I took a Catholic friend with me to the same Summer Camp, and she got “saved”. I now look back at that and scratch my head a bit at the terminology, but I’ve lost track of her (but her brother ended up unbeknownedly representing my husband's ex-wife in our most recent court case! I felt too weird about that to try and get back in touch. I was shocked by the way he acted.) and can’t really talk to her about it now that I have an Orthodox perspective. When I was 17, I spent the summer there as a CIT, counsellor in training. That’s when I learned that if a camper writes a counsellor of the opposite gender, you’re not supposed to write back. No wonder! I had a great time and was assigned the Rapelling Tower where I held the safety rope. Buff Ed thought I chose that assignment because of him. I thought he chose me. The Director put us together! We had a laugh about it later. Vanity of vanities. No romance happened, but I didn’t care because I was still focused on God and Africa.
I was also in a hurry. And since my family was going through a very difficult time financially, during my senior year, I enrolled in a one-year LVN nursing program at the hospital in which I’d spent so much time. I remember a visiting missionary at our church telling me right before I started that they usually train locals to do LVN type work, and that his wife had her RN, and that’s what I need to get. I couldn’t stand the thought of that much more school, so I stayed on course.
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RE: Summer Camp - 3/10/2006 9:13:44 AM
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1lightseeker
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From: Texas
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The Story of My Life
Is very plain to see
It starts the day you came
And ends the day you leave.
-Neil Diamond
Today is the anniversary of my first and last sons’ births. Ben, my first born, is my reason for living. I was so excited about having a baby, and felt that all my dissapointments were worth it since he came out of them. He was such a happy baby. When he smiled and laughed, which was often, his dimples showed. They were the first thing I noticed in the delivery room. I guess it was gas. I’ll never forget the unexpected joy of nursing him. It’s such a miracle how they know what to do.
My mother, who has many health problems, was rejuvenated when he came into her life. I was so shocked when she was able to throw him in the air! I’d never seen her do anything like that.
When he was just a few months old, maybe it was post-partum depression, or maybe it was that my husband said he didn’t love me anymore, or maybe I was just trying to get attention, I took all the Aspirins that were left in the bottle, and went to lay down. When nothing happened, I got in the car to go to the store to get some Tylenol. I sat in the parking-lot before going in, and thought about Ben. I couldn’t leave him alone, so I went back home, feeling nauseous and layed down again. I told his dad what I’d done, and I think he was hoping it would work, looking back on it. After the ringing in my ears stopped, I planted some monkey grass in the front yard, and that week I planted a red-bud tree. The monkey grass has been removed, but the red-bud tree looks great. Especially this time of year. I planted another one at this house, and it’s dark purple-red buds came out the other day.
Ben was a little nerd from the start. It took a while for him to speak, but some of his first words were airplane, helicopter, and air conditioner. The lady at the pancake restaurant almost didn’t give us the under-three discount because of these words.
Isaac is George’s and my first-born. I got pregnant a few months after we were married. We were so excited to have a baby together in addition to the 5 we had apart. Since we had 4 boys and 1 girl, we were really hoping for a girl, but when the sonogram showed it was a boy, we were still very happy. A couple of months later I had to get another sonogram to see if he was still alive. The next day, March 10th, my labor was induced to deliver my still-born son. I feel bad that today is Ben’s birthday, and I’m crying right now.
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RE: Summer Camp - 3/11/2006 7:27:00 PM
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1lightseeker
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The first half of Ben’s 15th birthday was sad, as right after writing the above, I got a call from my friend telling me about her mother’s recent death. My contacts are still blurry. Better get out a new pair. I love Acuvue, I forget I’m wearing them until I cloud them up every month or two by crying.
Happily, we had a good local extended family get-together last night for Ben’s-Shrimp-Fajita-Cheesecake-Hunt-for-Red-October party. The last four words are his favorite movie. His brother got him the DVD and we watched it on our new plasma TV. Awesome. It’s the third local extended family get-together since some recent tensions, and slowly the ice is melting. God and time can heal all wounds.
Today Rachel and I took Rebecca to her little friend’s 5yo birthday party, then we went to get a shower gift for a lady at church who’s having her first baby. Ben and Jordan stayed home to catch up on their school. George took Jared to Jeremy’s trampoline tournament. Still waiting for them to get back to see how Jeremy did.
Think I’ll go relax for a while.
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Mysteries - 3/12/2006 9:47:50 PM
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1lightseeker
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Today is the one-year anniversary of our Chrismation into the Orthodox Church. I am very thankful to be a partaker of the Eucharist. It is the single most eternally significant act I participate in. And it’s available at least once a week! How Christ has made us worthy to partake of His Holy life-creating mysteries is a wonder to me.
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Mothers - 3/13/2006 10:37:03 AM
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1lightseeker
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Back to digging into my past, which I’ve been avoiding for a while. When I was 19, my passion for God and my passion for a romantic relationship began to get a little unbalanced. I remember one day laying on my floor, and telling God that I wanted to follow Him and be close to Him, but I also wanted the Robert Redford guy. I knew that he appealed to my desire to have a cool boyfriend, even though he was a Christian, more than my desire to live whole-heartedly for God. I felt torn.
When I was little, I couldn’t visualize my life after the age of 20. It was like coming to a big cliff, and the only option was to jump off. I now feel like that was a premonition.
Up to that point, although I dreamed about the guys I had crushes on, I always just waited for them to notice me, and if they didn’t, I stayed on track with God, school, and learning about missions. I’d even kept my focus during the Robert Redford year, though things were starting to get blurry. So right before my 20th birthday, when I started going to the Bible Church where the single, newly 32 year old pastor took an interest, all my energies fused in his direction. I jumped off the cliff, and expected him to catch me. He’d been a missionary to France, and I’d been "Who’s Who" in French class. It is my favorite language. He loved old movies, I loved old movies. He loved playing hymns, I loved playing hymns. He was very passionate and earnest about God, and so was I. He had intense blue eyes that found an entrance into my soul. I let them in. I quit praying for God’s will to be done. I decided he was it for me, and I didn’t want to consider anything else. Even though I could feel my darker side was involved.
To start with, it was my mother who had brought me there because he was the brother of her Boston nephew’s best friend’s wife,  and she was asked to look him up by her sister. That very first day, even though he sat by me and acted all interested, after the service was over, he quickly became engaged by my mother's charming, non-shy, unlike me, ways. I felt mad at him and my mother that I’d been dropped like a hot potato. That’s when I decided to let the games begin. My mother and I were now competitors for the same guy’s attention. How weird is that? Up to that point, I trusted my mother, and we were very close. But she and my dad had been having troubles in their marriage in addition to the dire financial problems we’d been having for the last 6 years or so. Before that, they’d had a very loving relationship that I thought nothing could change. But apparently the only thing you can count on in life is death and taxes. Anyway, that’s when I started resenting my mother.
Hey, come to think of it, I remember that the first time I saw Mike, I wasn’t sure if he was that cute, except for his eyes. I got more interested when he sat by me, and got distracted sharing his Bible with me, and then he didn’t know the answer when his friend asked him a question during the service. I was very flattered. But when he shifted gears to my mother, that’s when he became a trophy for me to win over her. I think it was more about her charms vs. my charms than about him. But it did lead to major infatuation, nonetheless.
Sidenote: Thanks to CW for Blog Towne, and for the few of you who have clicked on this so far. I have been putting off dealing with the above for many years as it is a bit of a sore spot. I guess I’m a ham, and need an audience, however small, to motivate me. Writing this stuff to yall has been very helpful in clearing out the cobwebs in my attic, and I would recommend it to everyone.
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RE: Mothers - 3/14/2006 12:07:42 PM
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1lightseeker
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So I left my friends in our active singles group at the PCA church I was attending to go to Mike’s church, where he was the only single, to play the piano. I really enjoyed the singles group that I left. Patti and I were the only girls among 5 or 6 guys, albeit engineer types. Except Marvin, he was studying languages and ended up teaching English as a second language in Saudi Arabia. He was a character. We all used to go sailing, watch movies and play Trivial Persuit together. We had a lot of fun. So why did I leave? I don’t know, except that where I went felt dark and deep. I didn’t just stop by the woods on a snowing evening, I moved in. So much for my promises to keep.
He would give me the hymn list on Saturdays and I would practice for the service, plus come up with an intro and offeratory. I was sincerely playing for the Lord, though, not just to impress him. Like I said, music never let me down. That part of me that woshipped God through music didn’t get spoiled. But my Bible reading and prayer focus was all about how Mike was going to fulfill the passages about husband love and understand your wives. I so badly wanted to be loved and understood. By him.
My mother started coming to his church too. They even talked on the phone and went to lunch. Sometimes he’d be at my house when I got home from nursing school. That’s when I started drinking coffee.
By the way, after I got my LVN, my hospital phased out their teaching program, and insurance companies made them only hire RN’s. So that combined with the only mission board, TEAM, who sounded interested in sending an LVN, wanted me to go to Saudi Arabia. Marvin wasn’t there yet. A muslim country, where you’re not allowed to share your faith, was not what I had in mind. So I decided to take my LVN instructor’s, plus that other missionary’s advice, and I enrolled in an ADRN program at the Jr. College. I worked my way through at a Day Surgery center that my friend’s mom ran. I had just started college when I met Mike.
After 9 months, when my dad and mom had a serious blow-up, and Mike was at my house with my mom, he finally asked me out. I never knew exactly what his intentions were. We’d go to movies, or for drives to small towns and eat dinner. Sometimes to his appartment. One time we were watching a movie at his place and I put my head on his shoulder. I knew I was being forward. He took my hand between his hands and held it like a sandwich for a while. Then he said I had pretty hands. That was the furthest we ever got romantically. But that night I knew that I’d given him something that was meant for my husband. It was the first tangible part of me that I gave him that matched how I’d given him my heart. And I knew he hadn’t asked for it. That’s my biggest lesson out of the whole thing. I gave myself to him without being sure he wanted me.
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Christ before me - 3/14/2006 9:42:04 PM
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1lightseeker
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Some of my favorite hymns from this time:
Oh the Deep, Deep love of Jesus, Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean, In it's fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, Is the current of His love.
Leading onward, leading homeward, to Thy glorious rest above!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus. Spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth never, nevermore!
How He watches o'er His loved ones, died to call them all His own.
How for them He intercedeth, watcheth o'er them from the throne!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of ev'ry love the best!
'Tis an ocean full of blessing, 'tis a haven sweet of rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, 'tis a heav'n of heav'ns to me.
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!
Be Thou My Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Be Thou my Wisdom, Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee, Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.
Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of heaven, my Treasure Thou art.
I still need to grow in these realities.
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Hit the road, Jack - 3/15/2006 9:47:48 AM
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1lightseeker
Posts: 499
Joined: 4/12/2005
From: Texas
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My eyes got crossed during that relationship. I felt cheap that I was trying to get him to fall in love with me. I knew that for some reason my specialness wasn’t enough, so I dressed provocatively to entice him. I had given too much of myself, and I felt dirty.
I was even loosing my zeal for nursing and the mission field. I felt inadequate and insufficiently motivated to do better. But I hadn’t given up yet. However, I felt more at home at the end of nursing school when we studied Maternal/child nursing, probably because of all my years of babysitting.
Around the time I was graduating, I found out he was dating someone else as well as me. I told him I couldn’t handle that and would have to quit seeing him. I don’t remember much of a reaction. I dated other people in the mean time, but couldn’t get very excited about them. Young people sure do focus a lot on feelings, don’t they?
Anyway, after I graduated, I accepted the job of camp nurse at that summer camp where I’d been a camper as well as staff. It was good to get away, to be with people my age and around the kids, and to gallop across the meadow on Cisco.
I also made arrangements to go stay with a friend in Boston after the summer was over. My plan was to work at a temp agency while I waited for my Massachusetts nursing license. For some reason I thought it would be a step towards Africa. I planned on going to the historic Park Street Church, and being sent as a missionary from there after I got some experience at Mass General or the like.
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