I have a friend out there, who received some wonderful news this week. Except the timing is wrong. Finances are unsure. Life isn't going as smoothly as she'd like it to be when the stick turns pink.
To this friend, I have a story for you.
Six years ago my husband bought a pizza delivery franchise. It was the heyday when we plunked down our carefully saved money, everyone was doing booming business. We were going to be rich someday and have a wonderful life for our son and the rest of the family that God had yet to give us.
A few months later, on a lick and a promise, we built a 4-bedroom house. For all those kids we're gonna have. Because we can afford it (someday), right?
Then, over the next few years, the economy stared slipping. Sales dropped. Minimum wage went up. So did insurance premiums.
A few more years, and we reached the point where paying ourselves was no longer a given.
Another year, and it was no longer an option.
And you know what happens when you don't pay yourself? You don't have money to pay for the house.
We prayed and prayed for God to intervene. To bring sales up. To help us save our home. But He had other plans.
We lived in that house for 17 months after we stopped making the payments. We were able to put away a little money to help with the pending move, but not much more than that.
Right around 18 months, the store was doing well enough that we were able to pay ourselves. Not much, certainly not what we used to, but it was so strange filling out a deposit slip for the bank again!
I believe that God intervened on our behalf, but we needed hindsight to see how He worked. If we would have made mortgage payments during those 17 months, we would have lost our business. AND we would have been homeless, eventually.
And there has been other "a-HA" moments, looking back. Like how, because of our low income over these last few years, we've qualified for Medicaid. That is a Godsend to us, since our health insurance inexplicably went up 200% as of the July renewal and is completely unaffordable to us now.
We need to keep foremost in our minds that we serve a GINORMOUS God, and He loves us every bit as much as we love our own kids. He has the all-encompassing sight to know what's coming down the road. He will carry us along. He doesn't promise it's all pleasant, but He does know what's best for us.
M., I'm almost done reading Jon & Kate Gosselin's book Multiple Blessings, and I can't tell you how many times I thought of you and L. I hope you get a copy from your library and read it.
Showing posts with label Deep Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Deep Thoughts. Show all posts
8.12.2010
(one of) My Biggest Pet Peeve(s)
I have a very hard time with overweight children. There, I said it.
Maybe because I was one. Because I was enabled to become "pretty plus", probably stemming from my mom's guilt at having to work 2nd shift throughout my childhood. My grandparents, God love them, took it upon themselves to turn a "too skinny" 4-year-old into a fat 7-year-old.
It's all too easy to recall how miserable my childhood was, once I'd made that metamorphosis. The only real friend I had was a same-sized girl down the street. I craved male attention in some unhealthy ways. And my relationship with food has been way out of whack since.
Maybe that's why I struggle with overweight kids. Maybe it reminds me of how I felt, that my parents didn't care enough. I wonder if those children feel that way. What kinds of demons are they feeding with their chips-and-twinkies habits.
The majority of my friends have kids that are dealing with this issue. Some are more accepting of this situation, which really burns me up. When a friend tells me her (obese) 9-year-old has high cholesterol in the same conversational tone that she'd use commenting on the weather, oh, it's so hard to bite my tongue. Another friend who has two children dealing with weight issues is more concerned about their health and self esteem, but seems almost reluctant to lay down guidelines lest she "exclude" her kids from family activities. I understand that's a fine line to walk. The last thing you want to do is shame a child into an eating disorder. I wouldn't even know where to begin with that, except to keep all the junk off the grocery list.
I am so very, very blessed to have a "too skinny" child. I guard that obsessively. More than anything, he shouldn't repeat my life. I fret over his penchant for anything with HFCS, and I rejoice over his love for fresh vegetables.
I'd just posted a FB status about the 25 Worst Kids Meals and how one restaurant actually has a 1/3 lb burger on the kid's menu. And a friend commented back about how we have to lead by example.
At 225 lbs, what kind of example am I? My son has watched me struggle with my weight his whole life. Even if I ever got down to a healthy weight, it will be a struggle until my last day. Is it better for him to see me working towards good health? Or would it be better for him to have an example of acceptance instead of obsession? That I'm happy the way I am.
There's little that's been hidden from him growing up. He's been free to talk about my weight problem. But a few weeks ago, he found a chink in my thick skin. He came up to me and said, "mom, I'm going to love you forever, no matter what you look like." It was a sweet moment, but do you see them veiled message? He called me fat, and it hurt.
I don;t know if there's really a point to this post - it feels a little scattered. Just my thoughts on a bunch of things. What do you think?
Maybe because I was one. Because I was enabled to become "pretty plus", probably stemming from my mom's guilt at having to work 2nd shift throughout my childhood. My grandparents, God love them, took it upon themselves to turn a "too skinny" 4-year-old into a fat 7-year-old.
It's all too easy to recall how miserable my childhood was, once I'd made that metamorphosis. The only real friend I had was a same-sized girl down the street. I craved male attention in some unhealthy ways. And my relationship with food has been way out of whack since.
Maybe that's why I struggle with overweight kids. Maybe it reminds me of how I felt, that my parents didn't care enough. I wonder if those children feel that way. What kinds of demons are they feeding with their chips-and-twinkies habits.
The majority of my friends have kids that are dealing with this issue. Some are more accepting of this situation, which really burns me up. When a friend tells me her (obese) 9-year-old has high cholesterol in the same conversational tone that she'd use commenting on the weather, oh, it's so hard to bite my tongue. Another friend who has two children dealing with weight issues is more concerned about their health and self esteem, but seems almost reluctant to lay down guidelines lest she "exclude" her kids from family activities. I understand that's a fine line to walk. The last thing you want to do is shame a child into an eating disorder. I wouldn't even know where to begin with that, except to keep all the junk off the grocery list.
I am so very, very blessed to have a "too skinny" child. I guard that obsessively. More than anything, he shouldn't repeat my life. I fret over his penchant for anything with HFCS, and I rejoice over his love for fresh vegetables.
I'd just posted a FB status about the 25 Worst Kids Meals and how one restaurant actually has a 1/3 lb burger on the kid's menu. And a friend commented back about how we have to lead by example.
At 225 lbs, what kind of example am I? My son has watched me struggle with my weight his whole life. Even if I ever got down to a healthy weight, it will be a struggle until my last day. Is it better for him to see me working towards good health? Or would it be better for him to have an example of acceptance instead of obsession? That I'm happy the way I am.
There's little that's been hidden from him growing up. He's been free to talk about my weight problem. But a few weeks ago, he found a chink in my thick skin. He came up to me and said, "mom, I'm going to love you forever, no matter what you look like." It was a sweet moment, but do you see them veiled message? He called me fat, and it hurt.
I don;t know if there's really a point to this post - it feels a little scattered. Just my thoughts on a bunch of things. What do you think?
7.28.2010
Stagnant
Let me start this post by saying that I have no plans or ideas of getting a divorce. I love my husband dearly, but (like every other marriage I've observed) I'm not always in love with him. Lately, it's been the occasional struggle to be in like with him. This post is about those struggles.
Are you married? If you are, is your marriage all rainbows and lollipops? Do you not have the occasional moment where you look at your spouse and just wonder, "what if..." or "why?"
This morning on the drive out to the country, a few older songs caught my attention. This was the first one:
Do you remember when your relationship was fresh and exciting? Those are moments we reflect on for years to come. But what about when it becomes rote, even stale? I love how this song points out that mundane is not necessarily a bad trait in a relationship. It really got me thinking about when "the usual" went from fulfilling to tiresome. Why do I feel so restless?
And then this song, which tore my heart:
I think this song answered my question. I am being lazy in the maintenance of my marriage. Are you guilty of that? Taking the other for granted? Do you recognize that, many times, they're putting up with their own not-so-exciting feelings about you? Maybe sometimes they feel your laziness in uplifting them, and wonder if they did something wrong? Or, even more disturbing, don't really care? Why do we put less thought into the health of our marriages?
An excerpt from The Fish, a Christian-in-a-Pop-Culture-World website, ""We Build," a song about the challenges of marriage, is already leaving audiences in tears. "Anyone who's been married for more than a half an hour knows that it's really difficult," Nichole says, "but people, especially Christians, rarely talk about how hard it is. I can't even tell you how many people came up to me after I first sang this song live, one after another with tears streaming down their faces, saying 'thank you.' Not because I unlocked some deep, dark secret to the success of marriage, but because I simply admitted that some days love is a choice. A choice that means rolling up our sleeves and getting our hands dirty and trusting God for the blueprints. Sometimes it just helps to hear 'me too.'"
Truth time: my real impetus on this reflection has something to do with my son. Lately he's been yelling at me, and he thinks this is acceptable because he sees DH and I yelling at each other. I have failed my child when it comes to showing him how to have a healthy marriage. That scares me very much.
It scared me out of neutral and into gear.
Are you married? If you are, is your marriage all rainbows and lollipops? Do you not have the occasional moment where you look at your spouse and just wonder, "what if..." or "why?"
This morning on the drive out to the country, a few older songs caught my attention. This was the first one:
Do you remember when your relationship was fresh and exciting? Those are moments we reflect on for years to come. But what about when it becomes rote, even stale? I love how this song points out that mundane is not necessarily a bad trait in a relationship. It really got me thinking about when "the usual" went from fulfilling to tiresome. Why do I feel so restless?
And then this song, which tore my heart:
I think this song answered my question. I am being lazy in the maintenance of my marriage. Are you guilty of that? Taking the other for granted? Do you recognize that, many times, they're putting up with their own not-so-exciting feelings about you? Maybe sometimes they feel your laziness in uplifting them, and wonder if they did something wrong? Or, even more disturbing, don't really care? Why do we put less thought into the health of our marriages?
An excerpt from The Fish, a Christian-in-a-Pop-Culture-World website, ""We Build," a song about the challenges of marriage, is already leaving audiences in tears. "Anyone who's been married for more than a half an hour knows that it's really difficult," Nichole says, "but people, especially Christians, rarely talk about how hard it is. I can't even tell you how many people came up to me after I first sang this song live, one after another with tears streaming down their faces, saying 'thank you.' Not because I unlocked some deep, dark secret to the success of marriage, but because I simply admitted that some days love is a choice. A choice that means rolling up our sleeves and getting our hands dirty and trusting God for the blueprints. Sometimes it just helps to hear 'me too.'"
Truth time: my real impetus on this reflection has something to do with my son. Lately he's been yelling at me, and he thinks this is acceptable because he sees DH and I yelling at each other. I have failed my child when it comes to showing him how to have a healthy marriage. That scares me very much.
It scared me out of neutral and into gear.
5.09.2010
Oy...
So soon after my head exploded over the abject refusal to remove strawberry and chocolate milk from the elementary school lunchline on Jaime Oliver's Food Revolution...
Mead Johnson rolls out chocolate- and vanilla-flavored toddler formula.
If we're scratching our heads, wondering why our kids are dying younger than we are, let's give our poor scalps a break.
I love that quote, "What's next, genetically modifying moms to produce chocolate breast milk?"
Lady, don't give them any ideas.
Mead Johnson rolls out chocolate- and vanilla-flavored toddler formula.
If we're scratching our heads, wondering why our kids are dying younger than we are, let's give our poor scalps a break.
I love that quote, "What's next, genetically modifying moms to produce chocolate breast milk?"
Lady, don't give them any ideas.
3.15.2010
Somebody Wants What You Have
~shamelessly stolen from Jessica's blog~
It’s easy to think the grass is always greener in your neighbor’s yard. And perhaps it is. At least the part you can see.
But remember…
When you’re weary of fixing another meal and doing dishes yet again, somebody wishes they had food to put on the table.
When you’ve folded and put away a mountain of laundry, somebody wishes their children had proper coats and hats to wear to school.
When you’re groaning over the highest heating bill yet this year, somebody wishes they weren’t so cold.
When you’re losing sleep and gagging over a child’s stomach bug episode, somebody is praying for a miracle over her child’s hospital bed.
When the exhaustion and nausea of the first trimester are about to do you in, somebody is weeping over a negative pregnancy test. (so very, very true)
When your headache intensifies over your teen’s college financial paperwork, somebody is visiting the site of her teen’s fatal wreck.
When you wake up to another cloudy, rainy day, somebody is praying for moisture to end a season of drought.
When you pick up your husband’s dirty socks and take out the trash because he forgot, somebody is wishing that for just a moment she didn’t have to do it all alone, all the time.
The next time your situation threatens to steal your joy, try to remember… somebody wants what you have.
It’s easy to think the grass is always greener in your neighbor’s yard. And perhaps it is. At least the part you can see.
But remember…
When you’re weary of fixing another meal and doing dishes yet again, somebody wishes they had food to put on the table.
When you’ve folded and put away a mountain of laundry, somebody wishes their children had proper coats and hats to wear to school.
When you’re groaning over the highest heating bill yet this year, somebody wishes they weren’t so cold.
When you’re losing sleep and gagging over a child’s stomach bug episode, somebody is praying for a miracle over her child’s hospital bed.
When the exhaustion and nausea of the first trimester are about to do you in, somebody is weeping over a negative pregnancy test. (so very, very true)
When your headache intensifies over your teen’s college financial paperwork, somebody is visiting the site of her teen’s fatal wreck.
When you wake up to another cloudy, rainy day, somebody is praying for moisture to end a season of drought.
When you pick up your husband’s dirty socks and take out the trash because he forgot, somebody is wishing that for just a moment she didn’t have to do it all alone, all the time.
The next time your situation threatens to steal your joy, try to remember… somebody wants what you have.
Give thanks in all circumstances…
1 Thessalonians 5:18
1 Thessalonians 5:18
2.05.2010
Good News
God is generous with His rewards.
My DH and I looked at a house for rent on the northeast side of town a few weeks ago. I fell in love. It's not perfect, but pretty darn close for our situation. I asked the landlady when she'd be back in town so we could sign paperwork and give her a wad of money. She said she needed to think it over and discuss it with her husband.
What did she need to think over, you ask? Well, it's not our financial situation.
It's the cat.
So I called her a few days later, she said she was still showing the place and would get back to us by Tuesday evening.
When the phone never rang, I was crushed. But that was the day I committed to rejoicing in God's Plan, and I pasted a smile on my face and knew He had something in store for us.
Went to work Wednesday, pulled the classifieds and started calling and making appointments to see other places.
And you know what happened? The landlady left a message on our machine while we were working.
Yes! We're signing the lease Sunday!
I couldn't be more excited.
Well, on second thought, if God were to provide someone to pack this house up, and move everything for me......
My DH and I looked at a house for rent on the northeast side of town a few weeks ago. I fell in love. It's not perfect, but pretty darn close for our situation. I asked the landlady when she'd be back in town so we could sign paperwork and give her a wad of money. She said she needed to think it over and discuss it with her husband.
What did she need to think over, you ask? Well, it's not our financial situation.
It's the cat.
So I called her a few days later, she said she was still showing the place and would get back to us by Tuesday evening.
When the phone never rang, I was crushed. But that was the day I committed to rejoicing in God's Plan, and I pasted a smile on my face and knew He had something in store for us.
Went to work Wednesday, pulled the classifieds and started calling and making appointments to see other places.
And you know what happened? The landlady left a message on our machine while we were working.
Yes! We're signing the lease Sunday!
I couldn't be more excited.
Well, on second thought, if God were to provide someone to pack this house up, and move everything for me......
2.03.2010
Uncertainty
Today is the day You have made,
I will rejoice and be glad in it....
~Lincoln Brewster
This is my goal today. To rejoice through today, regardless of what it holds.
I've been struggling lately with uncertainly. My nemesis. As a borderline Type A personality, I hate the unknown.
And there's been a plethora of question marks in our daily life lately.
We're back to looking for a suitable place to live. The business is starting to make some profit (yay!), but will that continue. Infertility.
So many things we used to take for granted as being a "sure thing" are no longer sure.
Today, I will rejoice. For the air in my lungs. Food. A roof over my head, albeit temporary. A child to love. A husband who loves me. The promise that one day I'll be with my little girl again.
Today, I will rejoice in the midst of uncertainty. I will rejoice because God holds it all in His Hands, He knows how this will play out, and He will take care of us.
I will rejoice and be glad in it....
~Lincoln Brewster
This is my goal today. To rejoice through today, regardless of what it holds.
I've been struggling lately with uncertainly. My nemesis. As a borderline Type A personality, I hate the unknown.
And there's been a plethora of question marks in our daily life lately.
We're back to looking for a suitable place to live. The business is starting to make some profit (yay!), but will that continue. Infertility.
So many things we used to take for granted as being a "sure thing" are no longer sure.
Today, I will rejoice. For the air in my lungs. Food. A roof over my head, albeit temporary. A child to love. A husband who loves me. The promise that one day I'll be with my little girl again.
Today, I will rejoice in the midst of uncertainty. I will rejoice because God holds it all in His Hands, He knows how this will play out, and He will take care of us.
12.16.2009
O Little Stack of Christmas Gifts....
Last night I sent the boys out on a date. In "boyspeak" we called it a mission. Andrew had to take pictures of lots and lots of Christmas light displays with the digital camera, and then his daddy took him out to grab a treat and "bond" (we've both been suffering from Yasar withdrawl, but Andrew seems to be particularly whiny lately about missing his dad). They had a great time, the pictures are very cool (if a little blurry), and I plan to have them made into a photo book here if I could get my %@*^! slooooow internet to upload my photos to their server! Argh!
My real motivation to getting the boys out of the house is I needed to get the Christmas presents wrapped. My sneaky little 6-year-old was adamant that he was going to see his surprises, so I needed that extra layer of security that festive paper adds. I hunkered down with my scissors and magic tape and got it all done.
And then I looked at our presents. Sure are a lot less then years past. I started feeling a little bad. I mean, it's Christmas! We should have lots of gifts to open, not this small, pathetic pile. Isn't that our right? Oh, so humiliating......
I guess what happened next could be classified as an epiphany. Why are we opening presents on His birthday? It should be about what gifts we can give Jesus on His special day, right?
I'll give you a moment to digest that.
So I've been praying about what Jesus wants for Christmas this year. I feel like the little drummer boy - not much to give, but willing to give all I have. I can't wait to see where He leads me!
(Somehow, I don't think it's going to be to Zhu Zhu Hamsters)
My real motivation to getting the boys out of the house is I needed to get the Christmas presents wrapped. My sneaky little 6-year-old was adamant that he was going to see his surprises, so I needed that extra layer of security that festive paper adds. I hunkered down with my scissors and magic tape and got it all done.
And then I looked at our presents. Sure are a lot less then years past. I started feeling a little bad. I mean, it's Christmas! We should have lots of gifts to open, not this small, pathetic pile. Isn't that our right? Oh, so humiliating......
I guess what happened next could be classified as an epiphany. Why are we opening presents on His birthday? It should be about what gifts we can give Jesus on His special day, right?
I'll give you a moment to digest that.
So I've been praying about what Jesus wants for Christmas this year. I feel like the little drummer boy - not much to give, but willing to give all I have. I can't wait to see where He leads me!
(Somehow, I don't think it's going to be to Zhu Zhu Hamsters)
10.05.2009
Five Minutes in the Post Office
I'm sending a lumpy envelope to a friend across the border.
Being a lumpy envelope, it has to pass through customs. According to my friendly neighborhood postman.
So I'm standing to the side, filling out the necessary paperwork.
And a man walks up to the counter, asking about work.
His demeanor is soft. Defeated. And the post office has no good news for him.
I send up a prayer for him, to find a great job. And my eyes started tearing up for him.
Back in line. Up to the counter.
I can't help overhearing the lady in the next line.
A plain, brown parcel. The postman stats asking their "perishable, hazardous, jadda jadda" questions.
Her son's dog is in there. And the box isn't moving.
The postman says they need hazardous paperwork.
I start to giggle, until I see the customer's stricken expression.
Clearly this was an adored pet.
Another prayer. Another broken heart.
As we leave, I'm wondering what kinds of stories those postmen take home to their dinner tables.
They must see such an amazing cross-section of humanity.
Because in just my five there minutes:
I laughed.
I cried.
I prayed twice.
Imagine working a whole shift there!
Being a lumpy envelope, it has to pass through customs. According to my friendly neighborhood postman.
So I'm standing to the side, filling out the necessary paperwork.
And a man walks up to the counter, asking about work.
His demeanor is soft. Defeated. And the post office has no good news for him.
I send up a prayer for him, to find a great job. And my eyes started tearing up for him.
Back in line. Up to the counter.
I can't help overhearing the lady in the next line.
A plain, brown parcel. The postman stats asking their "perishable, hazardous, jadda jadda" questions.
Her son's dog is in there. And the box isn't moving.
The postman says they need hazardous paperwork.
I start to giggle, until I see the customer's stricken expression.
Clearly this was an adored pet.
Another prayer. Another broken heart.
As we leave, I'm wondering what kinds of stories those postmen take home to their dinner tables.
They must see such an amazing cross-section of humanity.
Because in just my five there minutes:
I laughed.
I cried.
I prayed twice.
Imagine working a whole shift there!
9.11.2009
Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning...
Eight years? Wow, it seems like yesterday.
Yasar and I moved to Ohio together in 1998. Things were rocky for years. Then finally, on August 28, 2001, I moved out. Got my own apartment. Just me and my birds.
So I was in my daily routine. Reruns of ER were back-to-back on TNT in those days. I had them on for company while I got the birds' cages changed. I walked out of my kitchen, back into the living room with the food dishes, looking curiously at the TV and wondering "what the heck?" For a moment I thought it was actually a part of the show - sometimes they did sequences like that.
And then my comfortable, safe little world blew apart.
At the time I was working a Friday-Monday schedule. 9/11 was a Tuesday. So for the next 3 days I was fixated on the TV. I cross-stitched a beachy scene that still holds the residue of the memory for me. I left the apartment once to go to Columbus, and was disturbed by the lack of air traffic. After a few days, I started getting angry. Yelling at my birds.
I went back to work and marveled at how the Monday to Friday crowd got anything done, especially since Pacer put a TV in the lobby and had it permanently fixated on CNN.
Where were you?
Yasar and I moved to Ohio together in 1998. Things were rocky for years. Then finally, on August 28, 2001, I moved out. Got my own apartment. Just me and my birds.
So I was in my daily routine. Reruns of ER were back-to-back on TNT in those days. I had them on for company while I got the birds' cages changed. I walked out of my kitchen, back into the living room with the food dishes, looking curiously at the TV and wondering "what the heck?" For a moment I thought it was actually a part of the show - sometimes they did sequences like that.
And then my comfortable, safe little world blew apart.
At the time I was working a Friday-Monday schedule. 9/11 was a Tuesday. So for the next 3 days I was fixated on the TV. I cross-stitched a beachy scene that still holds the residue of the memory for me. I left the apartment once to go to Columbus, and was disturbed by the lack of air traffic. After a few days, I started getting angry. Yelling at my birds.
I went back to work and marveled at how the Monday to Friday crowd got anything done, especially since Pacer put a TV in the lobby and had it permanently fixated on CNN.
Where were you?
8.29.2009
Researching with the Fist Bump
My son was watching one of his favorite PBS shows the other day. Sid the Science Kid was talking about germ transfer, the importance of sneezing into your elbow, and the basics of handwashing. And Andrew, that brilliant son of mine, says "Instead of shaking hands, they should pop it and lock it (our little fist bump routine). Then maybe people won't get germs."
It's been kind of on my mind since then. How many less sick days would I have if I employed the fist bump instead of shaking hands?
And how many people would look at me funny?
So I gave it a little test run on my chiropractor. He held his hand out to me, and I said "fist bump!" He was curious, so I told him I'm trying to avoid the swine flu. Which turned into a whole different conversation that I'll save for another time. Dr. Josh doesn't like the fist bump, but he's willing to humor me.
The attorney I visited on Friday was a bit taken by surprise, though. He good-naturedly returned the bump when I said "swine flu a-coming!" Yeah, I fist-bumped with a lawyer. I'm the shizzle, fo rizzle.
Church tomorrow should be quite the experiment. :)
So what do you think? Will I spend less time hacking and coughing this year? Save the rainforest by using fewer tissues?
How would you react if someone offered you their fist instead of their open hand?
It's been kind of on my mind since then. How many less sick days would I have if I employed the fist bump instead of shaking hands?
And how many people would look at me funny?
So I gave it a little test run on my chiropractor. He held his hand out to me, and I said "fist bump!" He was curious, so I told him I'm trying to avoid the swine flu. Which turned into a whole different conversation that I'll save for another time. Dr. Josh doesn't like the fist bump, but he's willing to humor me.
The attorney I visited on Friday was a bit taken by surprise, though. He good-naturedly returned the bump when I said "swine flu a-coming!" Yeah, I fist-bumped with a lawyer. I'm the shizzle, fo rizzle.
Church tomorrow should be quite the experiment. :)
So what do you think? Will I spend less time hacking and coughing this year? Save the rainforest by using fewer tissues?
How would you react if someone offered you their fist instead of their open hand?
7.16.2009
My Very Best Day
Many on this earth won't understand. My very best day would be their very worst. The day that starts with dying.
I'm rooting for a "she never felt a thing" demise, but in the end it won't really matter.
In the blink of an eye, I'm standing at those pearly gates. God looks at me with a giant smile on His face and says "welcome home, daughter!" He puts His Arm around me and leads me into paradise.
The crowd goes wild. They're singing and dancing, confetti and fireworks flying all around. Everyone is celebrating my homecoming.
My gremom walks strongly out of the throng, the first of my family to greet me. She tells me how she's missed me, and watched over me. I want to cry, but no tears are allowed in heaven. So I swallow the lump in my throat and wrap her in a giant embrace.
She says there's someone who'd like to meet me. I get excited, is it Leila? No, Leila's off chasing rainbows right now. But gremom hands me this perfect little baby. The baby I miscarried at 7 weeks in August of 2006. Is it a boy? A girl? That no longer matters. This child clutches my hand and coos at me, and I'm in love.
We start to walk down the beautiful golden streets, away from the noise of the crowd (yet it still follows us). Paradise is beautiful. Fig trees, watermelon plants, tomatoes, marigolds, all my favorite things are growing by the side of the road. Cobalt blue butterflies light from flower to flower. In the distance, I can see the mansions.
Gremom is telling me all about how her life has gone since her death. She's been busy, caring for my two precious children, learning to play the harp, and singing in the choir. But every once in awhile she's been allowed a vacation (a vacation from heaven, isn't that funny?) to swoop down to earth and comfort me. She said mostly God did that Himself, but a few times she talked Him into letting her do it. Her eyes are shining, she's delighted that she can tell me how she's comforted me. Me? I'm just so glad she's been there to care for the darling baby nestled in my arms. And for my Leila, who I'm so anxious to see.
We round a corner, and here's my new home. Beautiful, alabaster walls, a marble entryway, morning glories climbing the veranda. And a porch swing. I settle my (ohmygoodness, smaller!) behind on the seat, pat the place next to me in invitation to gremom. She joins me, still talking animatedly.
And then I hear it. "MOOOMMMMMEEEEEEEEE!" I hand the baby in my arms to gremom just as my little girl comes tearing around the side of the house.
And I run to her.
*********************************************************************************
How does your Very Best Day play out in your dreams?
I'm rooting for a "she never felt a thing" demise, but in the end it won't really matter.
In the blink of an eye, I'm standing at those pearly gates. God looks at me with a giant smile on His face and says "welcome home, daughter!" He puts His Arm around me and leads me into paradise.
The crowd goes wild. They're singing and dancing, confetti and fireworks flying all around. Everyone is celebrating my homecoming.
My gremom walks strongly out of the throng, the first of my family to greet me. She tells me how she's missed me, and watched over me. I want to cry, but no tears are allowed in heaven. So I swallow the lump in my throat and wrap her in a giant embrace.
She says there's someone who'd like to meet me. I get excited, is it Leila? No, Leila's off chasing rainbows right now. But gremom hands me this perfect little baby. The baby I miscarried at 7 weeks in August of 2006. Is it a boy? A girl? That no longer matters. This child clutches my hand and coos at me, and I'm in love.
We start to walk down the beautiful golden streets, away from the noise of the crowd (yet it still follows us). Paradise is beautiful. Fig trees, watermelon plants, tomatoes, marigolds, all my favorite things are growing by the side of the road. Cobalt blue butterflies light from flower to flower. In the distance, I can see the mansions.
Gremom is telling me all about how her life has gone since her death. She's been busy, caring for my two precious children, learning to play the harp, and singing in the choir. But every once in awhile she's been allowed a vacation (a vacation from heaven, isn't that funny?) to swoop down to earth and comfort me. She said mostly God did that Himself, but a few times she talked Him into letting her do it. Her eyes are shining, she's delighted that she can tell me how she's comforted me. Me? I'm just so glad she's been there to care for the darling baby nestled in my arms. And for my Leila, who I'm so anxious to see.
We round a corner, and here's my new home. Beautiful, alabaster walls, a marble entryway, morning glories climbing the veranda. And a porch swing. I settle my (ohmygoodness, smaller!) behind on the seat, pat the place next to me in invitation to gremom. She joins me, still talking animatedly.
And then I hear it. "MOOOMMMMMEEEEEEEEE!" I hand the baby in my arms to gremom just as my little girl comes tearing around the side of the house.
And I run to her.
*********************************************************************************
How does your Very Best Day play out in your dreams?
7.10.2009
Betrayal
My body is out to get me.
Last night we took my son and his friend to the park. I was spinning them on the merry-go-round, and decided to jump on. I ended up getting dragged halfway around, and have the sprained ankle to prove it.
About a week ago I was chasing Andrew around the house. Went to cut a turn, my body went "uh-UH!" and I slammed into the wall. Got some carpet burn from that one.
When did my body stop reacting the way I expect it to?
Oh, and the ultimate treason. Pushing my little girl into the world too early. Sabotaging my happiness and emotional state. Making me hate the skin I live in.
I feel like I don't know myself anymore. My reflexes no longer cater to my whims.
I'd like my heavenly body now. Please?
Last night we took my son and his friend to the park. I was spinning them on the merry-go-round, and decided to jump on. I ended up getting dragged halfway around, and have the sprained ankle to prove it.
About a week ago I was chasing Andrew around the house. Went to cut a turn, my body went "uh-UH!" and I slammed into the wall. Got some carpet burn from that one.
When did my body stop reacting the way I expect it to?
Oh, and the ultimate treason. Pushing my little girl into the world too early. Sabotaging my happiness and emotional state. Making me hate the skin I live in.
I feel like I don't know myself anymore. My reflexes no longer cater to my whims.
I'd like my heavenly body now. Please?
7.04.2009
Lessons Learned from Losing Leila
April over at Life Through Logic and Faith wrote this amazing post that really got my gears turning. What good things have come from losing my daughter? And how can I even think about that?
Losing Leila gave me a whole new relationship with my Creator. I'm a Christian. Have been since I was 12. But I never truly learned to lean on God until this experience. I never put all my cares into His Hands. I never completely gave it all up. But losing my daughter has shown me a whole new level of dependence on God. I cannot get through this without Him. I need Him so desperately to get through today, and tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that.
Losing Leila exposed the structure of my marriage. Yasar and I have been together for eleven years now. We've come from very different backgrounds, and it's still a work in progress when it comes to compromising with each other. The death of our child has opened up some challenges we'd never had the occasion to face before. Like how I've taken on a parental role in this marriage, when I need to learn to come to him to support me the same way he does with me. And how we react to grief in opposite ways. It's been a learning experience for both of us. Personally, it's deepened my respect for the man God provided me.
Losing Leila has influenced the way I parent. Andrew has always been the light of my life, and now more than ever. While I want to cling to him more closely now, I find myself being sensitive to his growing need for independence. And I also don't candy-coat real life for him as much anymore. When he asks a question, I answer it very much as I would to an adult, just using simpler terminology. After seeing his dead sister, what possible damage can my words do?
Losing Leila taught me about myself. I give constantly to my family at my own expense. Grieving Leila has been an exercise in putting on my own oxygen mask before assisting others. I'm entitled to my feelings. They don't always have to be logical. They're mine, God created me to have them, and I no longer offer apology for them.
There are more lessons from losing Leila, when it comes to evaluating my friendships and relationships with family, as well as my interactions with my fellow church members and at work. So much we've learned these past 6 weeks! Leila, I can't believe what I'd be missing without your influence.
Losing Leila gave me a whole new relationship with my Creator. I'm a Christian. Have been since I was 12. But I never truly learned to lean on God until this experience. I never put all my cares into His Hands. I never completely gave it all up. But losing my daughter has shown me a whole new level of dependence on God. I cannot get through this without Him. I need Him so desperately to get through today, and tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that.
Losing Leila exposed the structure of my marriage. Yasar and I have been together for eleven years now. We've come from very different backgrounds, and it's still a work in progress when it comes to compromising with each other. The death of our child has opened up some challenges we'd never had the occasion to face before. Like how I've taken on a parental role in this marriage, when I need to learn to come to him to support me the same way he does with me. And how we react to grief in opposite ways. It's been a learning experience for both of us. Personally, it's deepened my respect for the man God provided me.
Losing Leila has influenced the way I parent. Andrew has always been the light of my life, and now more than ever. While I want to cling to him more closely now, I find myself being sensitive to his growing need for independence. And I also don't candy-coat real life for him as much anymore. When he asks a question, I answer it very much as I would to an adult, just using simpler terminology. After seeing his dead sister, what possible damage can my words do?
Losing Leila taught me about myself. I give constantly to my family at my own expense. Grieving Leila has been an exercise in putting on my own oxygen mask before assisting others. I'm entitled to my feelings. They don't always have to be logical. They're mine, God created me to have them, and I no longer offer apology for them.
There are more lessons from losing Leila, when it comes to evaluating my friendships and relationships with family, as well as my interactions with my fellow church members and at work. So much we've learned these past 6 weeks! Leila, I can't believe what I'd be missing without your influence.
6.10.2009
Thankful
I believe God has used the trials this last month to teach me a lesson that I didn't know was necessary. It's about being thankful for what He's given me. I never really considered myself selfish, but I've definitely been pushed to the next level.
First and foremost, I have a Savior who loves me. Who grieves when I grieve, and rejoices when I rejoice. Who has given me something so precious, that I've spent the last 30ish years taking for granted. Being saved and looking forward to heaven has a whole new meaning to me now. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you so much.
My husband is such an incredible gift to me. I always marvel that God chose a man for me from the other side of the world (a sentiment I had the pleasure of sharing with his cousin and her American husband this past weekend). The years it took for Yasar and I to grow into each other, while I didn't understand it at the time, were another form of blessing. Yasar has been pivotal in teaching me how to be a Proverbs 31 woman, and how following God's Word for your life is, in itself, an amazing blessing.
Andrew, you are the light in my eyes. For years, I never thought I'd have children. I was too worried about my genetic makeup, and how it would be better to not propagate that DNA. But you, you are amazing. Bright, inquisitive, energetic, sweet and loving, not to mention devastatingly handsome, just looking at you makes me want to bust at the seams with pride. I am so fortunate to have you.
My last pregnancy and my daughter Leila has been a lesson of hope. For years Yasar and I had hoped for two lines on the pregnancy test, only to be disappointed month after month. God's timing is not our timing, you know? But, way back in February, when that miracle news happened, totally unexpected, God showed me that He's solidly in control. And, on May 21st, when Leila went home to be with Him, God taught me a whole new way to lean on Him.
My family has taught me some valuable lessons in support. From getting the 5am "I'm thinking of you" emails from Chris to having a new connection to my husband's family, our trials have made some new bridges, and some not-so-new bridges stronger. My parents, who offer strength. My sister, who does sympathy so well. All my bases are covered with them, and I consider myself so fortunate.
My friends are truly a gift from God. It's like He knew exactly what I'd need in my time here, and He had a different friend fill in every gap. Brenda is good at taking my mind off my problems, and keeping my kid busy for cheap. Christine is helping me get over my reluctance to be around babies, but in the most sensitive way. Shari brings the food - her role is pretty hazy now, I thing she's really uncomfortable with the whole pregnancy loss thing, but I have no doubt that God has plans for her. Jeanne loves to send me e-cards along with her support. Lisa is my rock. Having gone through something similar, she's almost like a guide, but also a soft shoulder. Joy just keeps me distracted and laughing. Melissa and Amy both push me into reality, that friends are going to keep having babies, and it's going to be okay - I'm not going to break by rejoicing with them. I also need to mention my cyber-friends, Tricia, Sheryl, Julie, Heather, Retriever, you guys and your comments get me through a lot of hard times, too. Thank you. :)
My support system has really gotten us to understand why God chose Troy for us. The people in our church are so incredible, their love and support seem to know no bounds. We've gotten so many cards, and offers of help, and baskets of cookies, and emails. And the OB and nurses who bore witness to Leila have been an incredible gift from God. Amazing that these people stay in touch, and continue to lift us up in prayer. We don't feel alone, even being so far from our families. That was God's plan, I guess.
So, thank you, God, for this ongoing lesson in thankfulness. I'm going to concentrate on seeking the silver linings in situations that would usually leave me in a negative place. If nothing else, I know that You're in control, and all things work together for good for those that love God (Rom 8:28).
First and foremost, I have a Savior who loves me. Who grieves when I grieve, and rejoices when I rejoice. Who has given me something so precious, that I've spent the last 30ish years taking for granted. Being saved and looking forward to heaven has a whole new meaning to me now. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you so much.
My husband is such an incredible gift to me. I always marvel that God chose a man for me from the other side of the world (a sentiment I had the pleasure of sharing with his cousin and her American husband this past weekend). The years it took for Yasar and I to grow into each other, while I didn't understand it at the time, were another form of blessing. Yasar has been pivotal in teaching me how to be a Proverbs 31 woman, and how following God's Word for your life is, in itself, an amazing blessing.
Andrew, you are the light in my eyes. For years, I never thought I'd have children. I was too worried about my genetic makeup, and how it would be better to not propagate that DNA. But you, you are amazing. Bright, inquisitive, energetic, sweet and loving, not to mention devastatingly handsome, just looking at you makes me want to bust at the seams with pride. I am so fortunate to have you.
My last pregnancy and my daughter Leila has been a lesson of hope. For years Yasar and I had hoped for two lines on the pregnancy test, only to be disappointed month after month. God's timing is not our timing, you know? But, way back in February, when that miracle news happened, totally unexpected, God showed me that He's solidly in control. And, on May 21st, when Leila went home to be with Him, God taught me a whole new way to lean on Him.
My family has taught me some valuable lessons in support. From getting the 5am "I'm thinking of you" emails from Chris to having a new connection to my husband's family, our trials have made some new bridges, and some not-so-new bridges stronger. My parents, who offer strength. My sister, who does sympathy so well. All my bases are covered with them, and I consider myself so fortunate.
My friends are truly a gift from God. It's like He knew exactly what I'd need in my time here, and He had a different friend fill in every gap. Brenda is good at taking my mind off my problems, and keeping my kid busy for cheap. Christine is helping me get over my reluctance to be around babies, but in the most sensitive way. Shari brings the food - her role is pretty hazy now, I thing she's really uncomfortable with the whole pregnancy loss thing, but I have no doubt that God has plans for her. Jeanne loves to send me e-cards along with her support. Lisa is my rock. Having gone through something similar, she's almost like a guide, but also a soft shoulder. Joy just keeps me distracted and laughing. Melissa and Amy both push me into reality, that friends are going to keep having babies, and it's going to be okay - I'm not going to break by rejoicing with them. I also need to mention my cyber-friends, Tricia, Sheryl, Julie, Heather, Retriever, you guys and your comments get me through a lot of hard times, too. Thank you. :)
My support system has really gotten us to understand why God chose Troy for us. The people in our church are so incredible, their love and support seem to know no bounds. We've gotten so many cards, and offers of help, and baskets of cookies, and emails. And the OB and nurses who bore witness to Leila have been an incredible gift from God. Amazing that these people stay in touch, and continue to lift us up in prayer. We don't feel alone, even being so far from our families. That was God's plan, I guess.
So, thank you, God, for this ongoing lesson in thankfulness. I'm going to concentrate on seeking the silver linings in situations that would usually leave me in a negative place. If nothing else, I know that You're in control, and all things work together for good for those that love God (Rom 8:28).
5.14.2009
A New Goal
I told my husband yesterday that I wanted to eat the chest freezer empty. He doesn't think we can do it - I get my hoarding mentality, especially when it comes to food, from my mom.
We shall see.....
We shall see.....
4.14.2009
The Pursuit of Normalcy
So many areas of my life seem to be in an uproar right now. We've got the pregnancy, a good kind of instability. Then the double whammy of bankruptcy and foreclosure. Now we've had a new situation pop up this week that has really thrown me for a loop. I find myself desperately seeking the unconditional.
And I think I found it at church.
The Easter celebration ended in a wonderful song put on by our choir, one they had clearly put their entire hearts into. Completely uplifting. But what really gripped my heart was the visual display they were using during the singing. It was a picture of a man in a t-shirt, looking pretty worse-for-the-wear, as if he could not even support his own weight. But behind him was Jesus, holding him up with a look of love and His nail-scarred hands. How a man could go through the tortures Jesus did that Good Friday so long ago, and still feel completely devoted to us is beyond me. If it were just any one of us in His shoes, don't you think we'd feel contempt for the people we sacrificed our lives for, only to be belittled, disrespected, or even disregarded by those same people? I get upset when I send someone a birthday card and don't get thanked! Someday we'll understand the depths of His love, or not, depending on our beliefs. But I thank God for His unfailing and unconditional love for me, someone so completely unworthy.
And, as a nice little dessert to that wonderful meal, the social aspect of church is not lost on me. The people there can be counted on for emotional support, lots of hugs, and prayers. I'm so grateful for the camaraderie, the friends who are so generous with their hugs, the sense of belonging to a group. I even had an email from a friend last week who had just gone through some of the same problems we're facing, and was open to talking about their experiences with us - the courage of that isn't lost on me, even in these economic times, bankruptcy still carries the same stigma.
It's so great to know you're not alone, both with Jesus and with fellow believers. It makes it easier to keep your current situation in perspective, knowing that Heaven awaits, and until then you've got some of the greatest shoulders to lean on.
And I think I found it at church.
The Easter celebration ended in a wonderful song put on by our choir, one they had clearly put their entire hearts into. Completely uplifting. But what really gripped my heart was the visual display they were using during the singing. It was a picture of a man in a t-shirt, looking pretty worse-for-the-wear, as if he could not even support his own weight. But behind him was Jesus, holding him up with a look of love and His nail-scarred hands. How a man could go through the tortures Jesus did that Good Friday so long ago, and still feel completely devoted to us is beyond me. If it were just any one of us in His shoes, don't you think we'd feel contempt for the people we sacrificed our lives for, only to be belittled, disrespected, or even disregarded by those same people? I get upset when I send someone a birthday card and don't get thanked! Someday we'll understand the depths of His love, or not, depending on our beliefs. But I thank God for His unfailing and unconditional love for me, someone so completely unworthy.
And, as a nice little dessert to that wonderful meal, the social aspect of church is not lost on me. The people there can be counted on for emotional support, lots of hugs, and prayers. I'm so grateful for the camaraderie, the friends who are so generous with their hugs, the sense of belonging to a group. I even had an email from a friend last week who had just gone through some of the same problems we're facing, and was open to talking about their experiences with us - the courage of that isn't lost on me, even in these economic times, bankruptcy still carries the same stigma.
It's so great to know you're not alone, both with Jesus and with fellow believers. It makes it easier to keep your current situation in perspective, knowing that Heaven awaits, and until then you've got some of the greatest shoulders to lean on.
3.01.2009
Is It Love? Hate? Anger? Let Your Feelings Out About The Octo-Mom!
What is our fascination with this crazy woman in California? Everywhere I turn, the buzz is all about the octuplet mom. And that buzz is decidedly negative.
Are we most offended because her situation practically spits in the eye of the economic issues our country faces right now? And California, while probably one of the most liberal and therefore understanding of such a predicament, is certainly one of the hardest-hit states in the recession. So, to top off the mess that is Californian finances, here comes Nadya with her 8 preemie babies and their hospital bills estimating at 1.5 million dollars. And that's just the medical care they'll need until they go home - it's not even touching the cost of care at home, from formula and diapers to pediatricians and housing. The amount of money about to be funneled into Suleman's blessings promises to be staggering.
Word on the street about her ethnic background is her dad is Iraqi. Could this be part of our inherent dislike for her? Could we possibly be discriminating against her ethnicity? Or could her ethnicity help us to understand why she's made the choices she has?
Or are we disgusted with the way she's managed to work the system to her benefit with her other six children?
Is anyone else questioning why, since she's pro-life and dead-set against killing the embryos, she didn't take into consideration these babies' best interests and adopt them out to families who were more financially and mentally stable?
Why did Suleman decide to immediately retain a publicist? Could it be that she saw these children as being her ticket to fame? How wrong was she, expecting the American public to actually be sympathetic to her situation? Or interested enough to watch the latest TLC series starring her and her brood? I wonder if any network would pick up her story, or if they're terrified of the backlash. Only time will tell (but, for the record, any network that puts Suleman on the payroll will never be watched in our home).
On a program this morning, I was watching Nadya and her mother in semi-heated debate over how she'll care for these babies when they arrive home. She was saying she'd "have to" take the help offered. As of it's not the desired outcome. Not a hint of thankfulness anywhere. Some kind charity offered her a place to live, and round-the-clock nursing care, and it was clear by her attitude that this was not her grand scheme. How sad for these children, to fall victim to a mother's delusions.
I'm struggling not to look at Nadya negatively, and I'm failing all over the place. What about you? Do you have the ability to look at her with pity?
Are we most offended because her situation practically spits in the eye of the economic issues our country faces right now? And California, while probably one of the most liberal and therefore understanding of such a predicament, is certainly one of the hardest-hit states in the recession. So, to top off the mess that is Californian finances, here comes Nadya with her 8 preemie babies and their hospital bills estimating at 1.5 million dollars. And that's just the medical care they'll need until they go home - it's not even touching the cost of care at home, from formula and diapers to pediatricians and housing. The amount of money about to be funneled into Suleman's blessings promises to be staggering.
Word on the street about her ethnic background is her dad is Iraqi. Could this be part of our inherent dislike for her? Could we possibly be discriminating against her ethnicity? Or could her ethnicity help us to understand why she's made the choices she has?
Or are we disgusted with the way she's managed to work the system to her benefit with her other six children?
Is anyone else questioning why, since she's pro-life and dead-set against killing the embryos, she didn't take into consideration these babies' best interests and adopt them out to families who were more financially and mentally stable?
Why did Suleman decide to immediately retain a publicist? Could it be that she saw these children as being her ticket to fame? How wrong was she, expecting the American public to actually be sympathetic to her situation? Or interested enough to watch the latest TLC series starring her and her brood? I wonder if any network would pick up her story, or if they're terrified of the backlash. Only time will tell (but, for the record, any network that puts Suleman on the payroll will never be watched in our home).
On a program this morning, I was watching Nadya and her mother in semi-heated debate over how she'll care for these babies when they arrive home. She was saying she'd "have to" take the help offered. As of it's not the desired outcome. Not a hint of thankfulness anywhere. Some kind charity offered her a place to live, and round-the-clock nursing care, and it was clear by her attitude that this was not her grand scheme. How sad for these children, to fall victim to a mother's delusions.
I'm struggling not to look at Nadya negatively, and I'm failing all over the place. What about you? Do you have the ability to look at her with pity?
1.23.2009
What's Wrong With Having an Opinion?
Facebook is a great way for me to contact people from the past en masse in 30 seconds or less. I love that I can let everyone on my list know what I'm up to whenever I'm online, and I get to see little snapshots of others as well. (for those unfamiliar, when you sign on to FB, there's a little tag at the top that says "Emily is...." and you get to fill in the blank.).
Anyway, yesterday I plugged in that I was disappointed, but not surprised. And that I would be praying for Obama. Yes, I was referring to the stand he takes on gay rights and the fact that he's pushing his pro-abortion agenda. Well, there's an old friend who's on my FB list who's gay, and I had to explain my comment. Basically I said, gays make a decision, and are usually mature enough to handle the repercussions. The unborn have no voice. Today I get an earful about how he'd never wish his lifestyle on another, and he volunteers in the foster care system and sees children who would have been better off aborted. And I'm told I'm small-minded.
This just breaks my heart.
Homosexuals, whether by nature or nuture (a debate I son't care to get into right now), have resources available to them. There are antidiscrimination laws in place to give them equal footing in the world. There are groups to be part of, churches organized specifically to minister to them. Thye have each other to rely on. As for the "lifestyle", I deal with something similar. I'm fat. I face legal discrimination fairly often. Yes, I make a decision not to lose weight (I'm not addicted to food, but it's very VERY hard to lose weight, and I just don't have the strength of character). Unlike gays, I have no "closet" to come out of. My big butt doesn't even FIT in the closet! So I get that being gay isn't all fun and games. But it is a decision.
What kills me is the comment that there are kids out there who would be better off unborn, killed in utero. I never thought I'd be a card-carrying pro-lifer, but the older I get, the more passionate I feel about this. Every baby deserves a chance. Every one of them. Rape, incest cases, every one. God doesn't make mistakes. God makes opportunities. So many out there are hungry for a child to love, and are unable produce life. It seems unfair that someone can squander such a gift while others stand aside and watch, wistfully. And for our tax dollars to be spent paying for what boils down to murder? Heresy!
I'm not sure exactly where I was going with this post. You almost hate to express your opinion, afraid that you will offend someone. And the sad fact is, you probably will offend. But, darn it, I'm entitled to an opinion. And I'm entitled to express it. I hope I didn't make anyone else mad. But if I did, we probably wouldn't be friends anyway.
Anyway, yesterday I plugged in that I was disappointed, but not surprised. And that I would be praying for Obama. Yes, I was referring to the stand he takes on gay rights and the fact that he's pushing his pro-abortion agenda. Well, there's an old friend who's on my FB list who's gay, and I had to explain my comment. Basically I said, gays make a decision, and are usually mature enough to handle the repercussions. The unborn have no voice. Today I get an earful about how he'd never wish his lifestyle on another, and he volunteers in the foster care system and sees children who would have been better off aborted. And I'm told I'm small-minded.
This just breaks my heart.
Homosexuals, whether by nature or nuture (a debate I son't care to get into right now), have resources available to them. There are antidiscrimination laws in place to give them equal footing in the world. There are groups to be part of, churches organized specifically to minister to them. Thye have each other to rely on. As for the "lifestyle", I deal with something similar. I'm fat. I face legal discrimination fairly often. Yes, I make a decision not to lose weight (I'm not addicted to food, but it's very VERY hard to lose weight, and I just don't have the strength of character). Unlike gays, I have no "closet" to come out of. My big butt doesn't even FIT in the closet! So I get that being gay isn't all fun and games. But it is a decision.
What kills me is the comment that there are kids out there who would be better off unborn, killed in utero. I never thought I'd be a card-carrying pro-lifer, but the older I get, the more passionate I feel about this. Every baby deserves a chance. Every one of them. Rape, incest cases, every one. God doesn't make mistakes. God makes opportunities. So many out there are hungry for a child to love, and are unable produce life. It seems unfair that someone can squander such a gift while others stand aside and watch, wistfully. And for our tax dollars to be spent paying for what boils down to murder? Heresy!
I'm not sure exactly where I was going with this post. You almost hate to express your opinion, afraid that you will offend someone. And the sad fact is, you probably will offend. But, darn it, I'm entitled to an opinion. And I'm entitled to express it. I hope I didn't make anyone else mad. But if I did, we probably wouldn't be friends anyway.
1.16.2009
The Conundrum That Is Barney
Does it disturb anyone else that Barney is obviously a T-Rex? Andrew borrowed a Barney DVD from the library this past week, and we watched it together last night. And it occured to me that Barney is the most terrifying dinosaur ever to walk the earth, singing "I love you, you love me..." Is that a little weird to anyone else?
When I was a kid, my brother and sister loved to watch Land of the Lost. I loved it, too, but was so scared of the beginning, where the t-rex eats the camera at the end of the opening music.
So I just don't get it. Do you?
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