Hunger games

Finished reading the first Hunger Games novel (written by Suzanne Collins). It was addictive, literally. Read it in less than a day. It's sort of a Lord of the Flies meets Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (competition-wise, anyway). Easy read and an interesting commentary on government, and how it can turn murder to sport given the right sort of persuasive tactics. It made me think of early Christians and their public maulings by lions and vicious animals. That type of sacrifice with a pure lack of bitterness could only happen with the Holy Spirit present.

Celebrity mania

Various conversations this week.

K: "Mom, I really want to meet Ludacris. When is your sister going to invite us to meet him?" (my sister lives in Chicago and has been to a party with Cris).
Me: "I have no idea."
K: "I want to meet him. He would totally love me. Black kids love me!"
Me: "bwahahahaha"
K: "Mom, Justin bieber wants 4 children like I do. He is totally copying me. Maybe we're just meant to be together."
Me: "Lots of people want 4 children. You are not meant to marry him. Ugh."
K: "If I can't meet Justin Bieber, I want to meet Cris. I can see me and him riding in his pimpin' car, drinking root beers."
Me: "um. What kind of world do you live in?"

In the still of the night

In the dark silent moments
Noiseless thoughts glide
Heavy, ponderous, indicting
Attack from within

Desperate for guidance
Redemptive searching begins
Frantic, grasping, fretful
Paranoia sets in

A rock stands alone
Unconscious secret pulling
Steady, unmoving, strong
Grace offered, regardless of sin

Gratitude with caution
Curiously frightened reaching
Chagrined, humbled, released
Joy with tears, and we begin

What Occupies

I think about my girls quite a bit. They occupy many of my daily thoughts. What they are doing, what I have not done for them, how special they are, how special they don't THINK they are, what they will be like next year, what they were like 10 years ago, and about what I need to do to make their lives better.

I think about work a good bit. What we must do to survive, my brainiac co-workers who I am in awe of, the ones that drive me nuts, the ones that I can laugh with, and I think about problems I need to solve in code. I admit that sometimes I like to mull a problem over in my mind for good while before I realize what I need to do. I like mulling.

I think about my parents. I think about their age, and how I will be there one day, how they are not believers, how I may not see them become believers (and how I might), how they raised me and did the best they could.

I think about my sisters. They are so different from me, yet they are like me in many ways.

I think about my church. I am so at home there, and it is such a family, yet I also at times I feel left out and alone, and I think about how all of us members must feel that way occasionally, and I think about how I love the men and women that I learn from there.

I think about my friends. I think about the ones that were in my life for a season, the ones that I rely on, the ones that I miss, the ones that I want to just visit with, the ones that I would go dancing with, the ones that make me laugh. I have such amazing friends.

I think about my marriage. I think about how lucky I was to have it and how things are ok now.

I think about my future marriage. I await it with great expectations even though I haven't dated since my divorce. I still approach the throne of grace knowing that it will happen again someday.

I think about myself, my sin, my gifts, my faults, my life in 10 years, and my life 10 years ago. I am blessed.

These are the things I pray about.

Unexpectedness in the Normal

I was watching Parenthood tonight. I typically have an emotional crying moment at one point in each episode. For some reason, I just love that show; the families, the real fighting, the frustration, and even the funny happy moments. Anyway, it dawned on me tonight how much I identify with the single mother on that show (Sarah). She's funny, has made mistakes, fights tooth-and-nail for her kids, and has fears and dreams like I do. I am not a carbon copy of her by any means. However, 20 years ago, if you'd have told me that I'd identify with the single moms in TV shows, what would I have thought?

"How sad!"
"Did my husband die?"
"I have kids?"
"I don't believe in divorce. What are you talking about?"

Yeah, that was me. I didn't really have a mapped out life like some people, but I knew I was heading for a good career, probably in a big city, and I wanted adventure. I wanted to meet people, travel, and learn about different cultures. What the hell did I know? I was kind of an idiot. Completely sheltered. Unaware of crude jokes. No knowledge of boys, men, or boyz-to-men. Not much knowledge of what it took to raise a kid. Pretty unfamiliar with taking care of a house.

I love, love, love my kids. Unquestionably. I just never expected to be in this position of being a single mom. I never expected that my marriage wouldn't last. I never expected to identify with characters like Sarah Braverman, Lorelai Gilmore, Kate and Allie, Alice...and the list goes on. There is heartache in this place, but there's also sweetness. There's hardship and worry and a lack of self-esteem. There's also self-confidence, grace, and forgiveness. There's jealousy, sometimes, over other people's seemingly working relationships. There's also no-holds-barred glee, sometimes, that I get the remote. There's scary decisions to make by myself. There's no one to run these by, so there's a reliance on prayer.

I wonder, sometimes, what I would be like if none of this had happened. But I don't think about it long. I think about what an innocent I was 20 years ago.

Princesses

I went to Disneyworld for four days this past week. What I realized while I was there is that girls desperately, desperately want to be princesses. We love the ornate ball gowns. We love the hair updos or braids or flowing waviness, whatever fits the occasion. We love the jewelry: diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, or pearls. Sadly, we also want the hourglass shape, the clear skin, the pouty lips, the gorgeous eyes. We love the idea that is espoused by Mr. Disney, that there is a prince out there for us and he will recognize our special-ness because he, too, is just that special. We want to feel valued, we want to feel taken care of, we want to be told that it's all about us.

And it's just not real. It's just not going to happen. We might like mani-pedis, pretty dresses, an ab-crunched stomach, but it's fleeting. We still have hangnails, we still have to shave our legs, and we still get poochy stomachs after having babies (well, most of us, anyway). We cannot rely on a man to make us feel valued. We can't have it be all about us or we will suck as mothers.

What can we have? We can be loved. We can give love. We can know that our special-ness doesn't come from without, but from within. It's not easy to remember.

I still sometimes want to be a Disney Princess with little rabbits and birds frolicking around me.

Law and depravity

Over the last two months, I've found that Sundays tend to be emotional for me. I go to church and find myself confronted with Leviticus and what God expected back in the "olden days." What is great for us on this side of the coin is that everything in the law defined in Leviticus has been satisfied; it all points to Jesus and as my pastor says, if you don't understand Leviticus, you don't fully appreciate Jesus. Makes sense.

It's that darn law that kills me. I know Jesus defines me, I know it's been done. Intellectually I know this. However, I can't sit in that service though without realizing the depths of my sin. The judgement I harbor. The desire to look outwardly and make fun of others rather than inwardly and seeing what I am. The desire to be in control. The desire to lie, cheat, make idols, lust, undermine, expect too much, it's all there.

Sometimes I just want to run. Run run run from myself. It's not about running from the responsibilities, that's something I can "do" and accomplish and use to make myself feel better than others. It's about wiping the slate clean and starting over and trying for that second chance at making it right like I mentioned in my angry phase. The thing is, I can't. I can't, I just can't. We're not meant to make it right. Yes, we're meant to have infinite chances with the God of the universe - with a contrite heart, I think. But not with the people here. We don't have infinite chances with others. How depressing. But still...for believers I suppose that's the point? Here is not our home. Here is littered with the scabby, slovenly, sad, sin-filled messes we've created. I can't even properly love my servant-hearted mostly deaf arthritic mother, for pete's sake.

Total depravity? Oh, yeah.