Peace, God's Currency Part 1

A doe swollen with the life inside of her, neck arching gracefully for grazing barely notices as I run past.  For a moment our eyes meet, and she returns to her feast.  Leaves pass over head in various shades of green so vibrant I feel as if their chlorophyll and my blood pulse to the same rhythm.  If you cut me I'm pretty sure I'd bleed green.  In this state of oneness with the natural world I become acutely aware that I am but another creation of God, beating in chorus with all his creation.  I live for this time when I surrender my existence to existing and cease worrying about material existence, and listen.  Today's conversation revolved around currency.

Only when I'm at one with creation do I cease to worry about human currency and all it provides for me.  This peace that I come by when I surrender to existing as part of a much broader world, not my world but his world, this peace is God's currency.  When I see with clarity that I am but a thread woven into the fabric of all creatures for all time, and feel purposeful peace, God has paid me for my obedience in his currency.  When he tells us, for instance in the Parables of Talents, that "to the one who has, more will be given and he will grow rich, bur from one who has not, even what he has will be taken away."  God is talking about peace, NOT money.  When we use our talents for God we receive peace.  Sure Jesus could mean money or talent, and we could receive more of those things if we are using them in accordance with God's Will, but peace is GOD'S CURRENCY.  Money and worldly success are ours, Fear is satan's.  This was the conversation on my run today.

In all honesty, I have plenty of experience with this.  I have often allowed fear to creep in.  "Why hasn't he called me today?  I bet he's hurt.  If he hasn't called and he isn't hurt, what could he possibly be doing?  He'd better not be compromising our values." or, "how am I going to pay that bill?!" or "What if they all make fun of me?"  Once you head down this path you only create more fear for yourself, unless you call on your faith and hand it over to God.  The reward, then, is peace.  We are made to live in peace.  We must first turn away from all fear; fear of not having enough, of not being good enough, of not being approved of by others.  Then we will stop seeing things as the world sees them, stop seeing ourselves as the world sees us, and begin to see with God's eyes the beauty of ourselves, of others, of nature and find peace as we're meant to.  We will stop craving material stuff, and start craving Jesus, and all things divine, because we ARE divine beings.  We are children of God.  Each of us is beautiful.  Each of us has a purpose.  Each of us has a choice, daily.

knowing by not understanding

I am feeling super funky today.  I have a compulsion to get this out.  Our society has elevated the individual intellect to deity.  We worship our own understanding.  There is a pervading belief that each of us DESERVES full understanding of all things in our world, and also all the workings of God and Christ.  If we don't understand something that has happened to us or to others, if we don't agree with it, we feel we have a right to either NOT BELIEVE it, or be mad at God for it.  This makes me so sad.  This can be said for natural disasters, scripture, religions, religious beliefs, science, pretty much anything.  WE DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING, let alone a full understanding of how God works throughout the universe.

We don't deserve to a nice house.  We don't deserve a perfect marriage.  We don't deserve to understand the mysteries of the universe, and we don't.  Not a single one of us DESERVES, or is ENTITLED to anything except a relationship with Christ.  Most people, during this time in history, are rejecting that single thing we are all entitled to because they aren't getting their way in some aspect of their natural life.  Life is hard.  God doesn't promise to protect us from harm or pain or suffering.  God simply says that through Jesus we will be able to find JOY IN OUR SUFFERING.  Heck look at Job.  That poor fella lost EVERYTHING and remained faithful.  He is our model for human suffering.  He didn't know why he was suffering he had faith that in the end God has his back. We mistake our own understanding of our physical world, and our understanding of Christ as "the truth".  When in fact that is a lie, and we will fail in faith EVERY time if we rely on our own understanding.  There is one truth, and we can't know the truth with our intellect at all.

Intellect and the individual.  WE CANNOT KNOW GOD WITH OUR INTELLECT.  We cannot find him by dissecting the scriptures.  We will not know Christ, no matter how many times we read the bible,  if we rely on our own understandings (this would lead to a gazilion truths because we all have different physical experiences... sound familiar).  We can ONLY know him in our soul through faith. St. John of the cross talks about how we cannot understand God or Christ or the Church (of course he is speaking of the Catholic Church, but bodes for all religions) with our intellect and earthly knowledge, because Christ and the Church are of the divine, the supernatural.  Those who try to use their own intellect to understand these things will only become frustrated at best, and faithless at worst, "The intellect knows only in the natural way, that is, by means of the senses.  If one is to know in this natural way, the phantasms and species of objects will have to be PRESENT either in themselves or in their likenessess; otherwise one will be incapable of KNOWING NATURALLY."  So to try to know Christ through our intellect will be fruitless.  He even mentions that it can cause depression because the soul is longing for union with Christ and is unable to attain it.  

FAITH, not in our knowing, but in Christ's knowing and our own NOT knowing.  Faith means accepting the truth without understanding it.  It requires humility to do that.  In a culture that has taught us that we deserve to understand before we accept, this process is painful and can be VERY frustrating.  Reading Sirach 3:20-24 followed directly by Matthew 7:21-23, and then Colossians 3: 5-21 is a good starting point, for understand how being a "true disciple" means dying to our own understanding.  Ascent of Mount Carmel and Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross are VERY illuminating as to these facts.  We can only "know" and "understand" Christ when we cease to rely on our senses and intellect.  We must die to the world, and all it has taught us and then humbly in FULL faith present ourselves to the scripture before we can understand it.  We must enter the dark night of the soul before we can be fully in the light.  Once we enter into the light we will find true JOY, regardless of what is happening in the physical world.  God, Christ are all JOY, and so we know a true disciple by their JOY.  

So many people now are unhappy, and joyless.  Christian and non-Christian alike.  Again, life is hard and this is understandable.  However, once we understand Christ in our soul we will have ETERNAL joy.  Our society has ingrained in us that we can only understand with our intellect.  We cannot understand Christ with our intellect, since we cannot sense him through our bodies, but only through our souls.  If you find that you are joyless for a long period of time, I suggest surrendering to what you do not understand, and accept that the truth of Christ is NOT meant to be understood by your big human brain, but to be felt in your soul's heart.  He's in there.  He's talking to you, but only in the silence can you hear him.  He wants to give you the gift of Joy.

**DISCLAIMER:  Supernatural joy is different from earthly joy.  Job wasn't dancing a jig necessarily, but he had peace of mind which lends itself to gratitude, acceptance, and joy.  The meaning of this word in this context is... supernatural, and I cannot explain to you what it "feels" like to the senses.  It is simply that when I am sad, I am at peace and this brings me joy.  

TO HONOR AND CHERISH... MY declaration to self.

I took the Myers-Briggs II yesterday.  Not because I'm curious about what "Type" I am, I'm an INFJ.  I know what that means (see Page and yes, I have spidey senses perhaps someday I'll be brave enough to devote a page to them).  Not because a type DEFINES you, it doesn't, but because it is a resource, a lens to view how I prefer to interact with the world,  Since I have a great idea of what my preferences are, I had the luxury of using this Indicator to see if I was honoring my preferences.  I needed to know where I wasn't being true to myself.  I feel disjointed, out of sorts.  I'm not reacting to situations in ways that sit well with me.  I'm acting out of character, and until yesterday I didn't know why.  I won't bore anyone with the details.  Instead, the following is my declaration.

I have a tender heart.  Intolerance, insensitivity, rudeness, ESPECIALLY when not directed at me HURTS me.  It makes me sad, for you.  That most definitely doesn't mean I don't like you.  I DO LIKE YOU (I like pretty much everyone, and find the best in people).  In fact I'd like to help you, because I know you do it because you are unhappy.  It just means I can't be around you often.  It means I'm here to help you when you are ready to find happiness.  I need to guard my heart a bit, from negativity so that I can keep it soft and tender for those that need tenderness.  Just because I don't let you in, doesn't mean you are locked out.  I need to be sure I feel safe with friends, and those in my life so that I can be free to use what is probably one of my greatest gifts without shame or fear whenever the need arises.  I haven't had the easiest life, so I am already a little too sparing with it as it is.  When I guard my tenderness, I become VERY hard and cold (with people close to me I can seem this way anyway because I have high expectations for them... though never as high as the expectations I have for myself).  I'm not hard or cold, and It hurts me when I treat others this way.

Next, I am NOT logical.  Sure I have great logical thinking skills, but I make decisions FIRST, based on my intuituion, and then search for logic to support them so that I can defend my choices to others. Some times i don't even know why make the choices i make, i just know it is the RIGHT choice.  that can be very frustrating for a person with great skills in logic!  In all honesty, I've made pretty much EVERY decision in my life based on feelings and personal values, and I LOVE MY LIFE!  When I try too hard to be logical I end up being grouchy, because in many situations the logical choice goes against my intuition, and what I FEEL I should do.  Like adoption for instance, or my decision to marry my husband, or to keep my baby, to join the Army... Pretty much none of my favorite choices have been the logical choice.  I just KNOW what is right for me.  I much prefer to interact with people, make decisions etc. in ways that are personal and in line with what I believe, not based on what makes logical sense.  When I'm not true to this preference I only end up feeling sorry for myself for not following my heart.  I project this self pity, by lashing out in anger, at whoever I think is at fault (usually my husband because some how everything is his fault ;) LOL).  When I follow my brain instead of my heart I get SUPER out of wack, because while I'm good at logical thinking, I pretty much suck at logical functioning... This is probably the area of second most concern for me.

Finally, I NEED structure, routine, efficiency, concrete expectations and plans.  I actually crave it.  I am NOT a  go with the flow type.  I sure would like to be.  Everyone likes them better.  ;)  However, probably due to some childhood things, I have never learned to do this for myself.  I suck at deadlines, I don't know how to implement structure and routine for myself.  It's VERY hard for me.  So if I seem to be totally unavailable for weeks or months its probably because I am avoiding distractions while I attempt to give myself something I desperately need... STRUCTURE.  This Army Wife life only makes it that much harder (this is where that logical thinking is great.  Otherwise the Army's lack of efficiency might make me even crazier than the lack of schedule already does!).  However, I'm a terrific planner.  Give me a PCS move or a hurricane and I will really shine!  So this is my declaration of truth to myself.  These are things I need to honor within myself.  If don't, I worry I'll become a cold, hard, grouchy, moody, lazy, unorganized and distant person who never achieves her dreams or uses her God given gifts.

My Promise

An American Journalist once asked Mohandas Ghandi a question . The American jouranlist asked Ghandi, "What is your opinion of American civilization?" Ghandi smiled and replied to the American journalist, "I think it would be an excellent idea". Ghandi understood the term "Civilization" in all it's true depth, in a way most American's don't.  Root word Civil: of or pertaining to the people or their benefit.  The one word repeated in the following definitons of civilization is "INTELLECTUAL".civ·i·li·za·tion  (sv-l-zshn) n. 1. An advanced state of intellectual, cultural, and material development in human society, marked by progress in the arts and sciences, the extensive use of record-keeping, including writing, and the appearance of complex political and social institutions. 2. The type of culture and society developed by a particular nation or region or in a particular epoch: Mayan civilization; the civilization of ancient Rome. 3. The act or process of civilizing or reaching a civilized state. 4. Cultural or intellectual refinement; good taste.

I am not content to live between paychecks.  I have mentioned this before, I have no pre-occupation with money or "stuff".  It just isn't on my radar.  SERIOUSLY.  People, living in my head, living between ideas, or worlds, between the me that I am and the me that I'd like to become that is what appeals to me.  Until we joined the Army, I surrounded myself with people that were similar in mind, in that they lived deliberately.  They knew why they did what they did, and they worked to better themselves in their cause.  They are still my friends, though over great distance.  I had a difficult time in school, not living in a world that was "guess jeans" or what ever fad was cool.  To me, even at 11 or 12, that just seemed silly.  The fad would change, but how would I?  This notion I had spared no clique.  The goths and Emos, were just as generic and unoriginal as the jocks and preps.  They were all the same.  All defined by materials.  Not working to find out who they were, but purchasing an identity manufactured by American Eagle, or Hot topic.Seemed like a meaningless pursuit when considering that "materially" we are but a speck in the universe.  By high school I saw most of my classmates as Lemmings chasing fads over the edges of cliffs.  I tried to fit into a prefab box, with no success.  I'm just me I guess, and that just validated what I had already felt, that most people see the "world" as being there to serve them.  I internalized this in a very hostile way, and projected this opinion with hostility as well.  In reality it was just hard for me to know that they were missing out on the inner journey.  They weren't awake, weren't living.  They were existing.  I have journals full of my concern for them.  It was just easier to react with anger than concern.  When I left my home town, I made sure to only "invest" in people that were awakened to LIVING.  In this way I could ignore the wider world, and pretend there was no problem, and protect myself.  When in actuality I just removed myself from the one place where, if I were willing to listen, I might, in return be heard. I might, through love an compassion, effect change.

I see this when most people see...

In the Army I was thrown into the Masses.  No longer able to protect myself from this old feeling of concern.  My ears were no longer deaf. This old "lemming" thing came back to haunt me.  I had been avoiding it, ignoring it.  Animals live between meals.  When they aren't eating, they are hunting for food.  They don't think about how they can grow to become a better hunter, or mother, or father, or friend.  They certainly don't think about the affect of their Consumption, as it is a necessity for them to consume.  How is a human living between purchases any different than an animal?  This is what I wonder.  I consider status to be an illusion we purchase when we buy a car, or a plasma screen tv, or an Ipad, or an Iphone, or whatever is the latest buzz in Advertising.  It's like buying certificate of validation written in invisible ink.  Because next year it will be outdated and we'll have to buy something newer and shinier to get a new certificate.  I of course have a car, I didn't buy it make a statement, I bought it to get me from point a to point b.  I don't care that it has scratched paint, miss matched rims, and looks like a tiny toaster.  I have a small 19 inch TV that I bought in 2004.  I don't have an Ipad, or an Iphone, as those are totally unnecessary.  I buy what I NEED.  I honestly have no idea what the latest technology is.  I am clueless about the latest fashion trends.  Things, to me, are utilitarian.  Yes, my husband and I STILL get teased because of our view of material possessions.  Something I am coming to accept is that not everyone sees the world through my lens, and that I need to grow so I can accept those who lavishly consume and withhold judgement, because I don't understand that world.  I have been hostile towards those that live within this materially preoccupied world so I can validate my own, opposing vision.  Just because I don't understand their lifestyle, or outlook doesn't mean they aren't worthy of my tolerance.  So hard for me, because I am radically opposed consumerism to the point that newly constructed track home neighborhoods make me physically ill.  I have to accept, and listen.

This... "McMansions"

I hope now to give my beautiful flowers, of laughter, encouragement, acceptance, and love to EVERYONE not simply those that share my vision of the world.  I hope also, that in giving my flowers, I will plant seeds that this life is more than existing in an animal like state, more than who did what to who, more than what you have.  It's more than being a robot consumer that is slave to advertising.  This is YOUR life.  This life is what you DO, what you learn, and who you shower love upon.  It's about being people centered, not things centered.  It's about thinking about what you do, and how it effects other people, and the planet.  It is about whether or not you evolve so that you too have beautiful flowers of laughter, encouragement, love, and acceptance to give to others.  It starts with me.  My example of tolerance, love, and acceptance is the voice of my concern.  My hostility would only continue to foster an "us" and "them" attitude.  This isn't high school anymore.  I must be growth I want to see, because a civilization built up on things, and not upon the intellect of it's people is hardly a civilization.  MY PROMISE to those I once called "lemmings", I will listen; my love WILL be enough.  I will make it so...

civ·i·lized  (sv-lzd)

adj.

1. Having a highly developed society and culture.

2. Showing evidence of moral and intellectual advancement; humane, ethical, and reasonable

How does your garden grow?

I promised a post on friendship, using Aristotle's philosophy as my guide.  Friendship for me has been a process of learning my own boundaries.  I am a house, with many rooms, and a large yard.  The house is reserved for those that i allow into the deepest parts of my heart.  To them I am transparent, they can come and go because I trust them to honor me.  My yard started out unfenced, allowing anyone in.  Unfortunately my garden got trampled by visitors that didn't know how to respect me, and the flowers in my heart were broken and withered so that I didn't have anything beautiful to give to those that DID respect me.  I had nothing to bring inside.  (This blog totally explains the internal struggle I face, In learning about my personality preferences I began to learn why I did the things I did.) So I began to wonder, what IS friendship?  How can I be kind to others if I don't let them in?  How can I give something beautiful to someone that needs it, and yet keep them out of my garden?  In my quest I found many things but the most helpful was this, Aristotle's view on friendship.  He basically states that there are 3 types of friendships, friendships of: Pleasure, Utility, and Virtue.

Friendships of Pleasure: Friends with whom you partake in vices, and/or fun activities.  These friendships are shallow, though may seem deeper than they are because you have "fun times" together.

Friendships of Utility: Friends you use to benefit, and also they benefit from you.  These friendships are based on need, and are obviously shallow.  Once one of you ceases benefiting from the other the friendship is over.

Friendships of Virtue: These are deep lasting friendships.  These are friends whom share your moral compass, your vision of the world, and your values.  These are friends that support you and what you stand for.

Just looking at friendship in these categories opened my eyes.  I realized that I wanted to keep friends, other than friends of virtue to a minimum while I constructed my personal definition of "Virtue".  Friends of Virtue would respect my garden.  So I decided to put a fence around my garden... not a privacy fence, a picket fence.  I would share my flowers with friends of Utility and friends of Pleasure, I would reach over the fence to them... but only those that respected the garden would be invited in.  I had to look back at how these categories shifted from college onward to understand how and where to build this fence, how to use the fence etc.

symbols don't represent a literal number of friends, but rather the idea of the percentage of time I spent with each category of friends.

18-22 (At ISU)
Pleasure friends (for going to parties mostly)**********************************************
Friends of Utility (study/running partners)     ***********************************
Friends of Virtue                                         *********

22-28 (Had 2 kids started working)
Friends of Pleasure (partys/BBQs/running Partners) ##########################
Friends of Utility (babysitting/running partners)        ##################
Friends of Virtue (other parents)                              ######

28-32 (transition from Civilian to Army)
Friends of Pleasure (Army peeps/BBQs/Running Partners)#########################
Friends of Utility (babysitting/Running Partners)                 ######################
Friends of Virtue (like minded parents)                               #######

33-34 (after my search)
Friends of Pleasure (Running partners/BBQs)                           ***********
Friends of Utility (babysitting/house/car help)                            ***
Friends of Virtue (as defined, even if it's only family)                 ******************************

You see, it now seems like a waste of energy and resources to socialize with those that aren't friends of virtue.  I could put those resources to better use helping others, and working to LIVE my values.  I believe that as I find more friends of Virtue, I will find that my friends of Utility and Pleasure will also be my friends of Virtue, and my "lines" will be close to even.  At that time I will have a garden full of flowers to pass out to those that are in great need of something beautiful.  Until then I've put up a wall that has, "UNDER-CONSTRUCTION OPENING SOON" spray painted on it while I replenish and reconstruct my garden.

His life NOT mine

Me: Coopman, you really are a gift from God.  (His middle name is Zane meaning: Gift from God)
Coop: You know Mom, I was thinking about that today!  I mean, there is nothing wrong with me.  I am perfect (he means physically).  That has to be a miracle, right?
Me: Yeah, I'd say.  With my faulty genetics, you won the lottery!  It's more than that though. you know.
Coop: What do you mean?  I just meant that I was easy on you because I'm never sick, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with me ever.
Me: That's true.  I think you've had a handful of colds as an infant, and maybe the flu, what like 3 times?
Coop: yeah, 3 times.
Me: You were more than just abnormally healthy though Cooper.  That was of course a HUGE blessing.
Coop:  Yeah, I mean you could just take me out with a coat in the winter when I was baby and be like, 'here you go!' and I wouldn't get sick or anything!
Cheeky little cuss.
Me: yeah, I'm sure we did that to you... Oops.  But I mean that we didn't have to baby proof our house for you, we didn't have to worry about anything with you.  There were no unseen hazards for your dad and I because you seemed to know what they were and to avoid them on your own.
Coop: Well, Will definitely didn't do that for you.
He's totally right here, but we'll just ignore that statement.
Me: Well, it was like you were a grown up from the moment you were born.  Almost like God knew I needed to be eased into this "parenting thing".
He loses interest now and starts talking to me about Pokemon.
This conversation is much deeper to the two of us than it seems.  Because he knows what I'm about to say.

I thought about aborting him.  There I said it out loud.  Go ahead and judge me. I didn't want to be mother yet.  Sure I was engaged to the man of my dreams, and I knew he'd want to keep the baby.  I knew he'd do everything necessary to provide for us both.  I had done everything I had been told to do to prevent this, it wasn't fair.  That's why between hearing, "No Miss Cooper, you're not anemic... You're pregnant" and going back to my future husband's apartment I stopped at a park to think it over.  There would be no choosing what I wanted once I told Casey, because it would kill him if I aborted our baby. No, if I didn't want to keep the baby he could never know.  I wanted to have a choice in the matter, even if contemplating the "unspeakable" went against everything that was Catholic.  The girl who marched in Pro-Life rallies wanted a choice.

I sat in my beater of a car at the park and bawled and bawled and bawled to the barren trees, to my steering wheel, to a God I wanted to be mad at.  I couldn't be mad at God though, I DID THIS TO ME.  I thought of all things that would be ruined.  I was captain of a Division I track team.  How would I tell the team.  I had a scholarship, what if I lost it.  I had been running REALLY well, and was on track to break records, and win things, all that would be lost.  I didn't once think about the life in my womb.  It was simply an inventory of all the things I COULDN'T do if I kept this baby.  I had just bought a fitted coat.  I'd out grow it in a few months.  My body wouldn't be mine anymore.  I cried and screamed and slammed on the steering wheel until my throat felt stiff as steal, and I was sure my hand was broken.  Then, limp with exhaustion I numbly sat and counted the dots in the steering wheel cover until I was so cold I had to restart my car.

By: National Catholic Register 

Then I thought of living a lie for the rest of my life with the one person that mattered the most to me, just so I could get my name in small print in Track Meet programs.  No one looks at those names,  no one cares.  I took a deep breath.  Looked down and said, "Fine.  You Win."  I'm not sure I was talking to the fetus, or to God at the time.  In then end I was talking to both.  When I got to the apartment and told Casey the news he wrapped his arms lifted me in the air and spun me around.  His excitement incited a slowly building rage inside of me.  A long angry pregnancy was followed by severe Postpartum depression.  In fact, my husband was sole caretaker for our son for nearly the first 6 months of his life.  While I gave him his middle name, I certainly didn't see him as a gift until he was about 9 months old.  Even at that young age, when people would yell "Go Annie" he would cry.  Perhaps worried for me?  Perhaps he longed for me?  He didn't cry when they yelled, "Go Angie" or "Go Casey" or "Go ______".  Only my name.  He loved me anyway.

It was definitely a blessing that he was eerily healthy, and eerily well behaved.  He might not have survived other wise!  We were two young twenty somethings that had athletic obligations to fill and degrees to finish.  He DID go out in winter without a coat, and didn't get sick.  This little boy had a quiet humor and uncanny ability to sense and appropriately react to the emotions of those around him.  By the time he was 2 I was totally smitten and ever since have worked with fervor to be the mother he deserves, though strangely thoughts of a broken bond were something I never worried about.  Probably because he has always been so tender and warm towards me, even though I didn't deserve it.  So broken bonds just weren't on the radar, until I sat down to write this.  Another blessing? He truly is the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I didn't see it at the time.  Without him I would have been content in my selfishness, dilutedly thinking I was happy.  He has, for me, exemplified grace, and gives me a higher purpose.  He makes me want to be better than I am.

Because of Cooper I learned that just because we think we are happy doesn't mean we are.  Conversely, just because we don't like the situations that befall us doesn't mean we can't be happy anyway.  Happiness is inside of us, not outside of us.  Happiness is everywhere, once we find it in ourselves we can find it anywhere if we look for it.  Memories of those times when we are happy can help us through those time when we aren't.  Happiness is in surrender and acceptance, two things I (a confessed control freak) will always struggle with.  My struggle is less now than it was, not just because of the unexpectedness of the event Cooper being introduced into my life, but in who he is.  Cooper's presence and person frequently remind me that my life is BEST when I don't try to control it, but instead turn it over to God.  That when I try and fail to be the best person I can be I will be loved anyway.  I marvel at him everyday.  I love that kid.  I can't imagine life without him.  The world is better because he is in it.  He truly is a "Gift from God", not just for me, but for you.

Birth Right

Shameless stolen from "Marley's Mama"

We have been reading "The Hunger Games" out loud as a family.  It has sort of taken over our lives.  My husband called me on lunch yesterday, "Hunger Games tonight" he said.  He walked in the door just after 4:30, "Ready to read the Hunger Games?"  Oh sure, never mind dinner, homework, or that I've had the flu.  The man has become absorbed.  Alright, maybe he isn't the only one.  Needless to say the boys were up until 9 pm while we finished reading the last 6 chapters of Book one.  We read through the preparation and consumption of our dinner, thanks to my lack of appetite.  We read as we drove the 20 minutes to my car, still at the middle school where I left yesterday because I was too ill to drive myself home.  We read together as the boys prepared for bed.  When we finished the book, my husband picked up the second book and began reading silently to himself and was promptly scolded by the boys and I, "NO CHEATING".   I call this obsession, "Family Reading Night".  I'm not sure how long this will last, but I know that we have two more books, and it will last at least that long.  To the boys, that will be long enough to feel, "permanent".  In their adult memories it will seem like a tradition that always was.  This is how things are measured in, "kid time".

We have "Family Movie Night" too.  It isn't a prescribed weekly event.  It is homemade Pizza, popcorn, Blankets galore, and a movie we all want to watch.  I can't really make that happen EVERY week.  I make that happen when I have a movie we all like in our Instant Que on Netflix, and the energy to make the food.  Again, they will remember this a tradition whether it happens every week, or every couple of weeks.  It happens regularly enough to be a part of our family identity, or at least to be ingrained in them as part of their family's identity, "kid time". This whole "Family Identity" thing didn't happen by accident, or over night for that matter.  It is something I began thinking about shortly after one of my students was shot in a drive by while I student teaching.  Weird?  It's true.

Staring at a spontaneously emptied desk for weeks will really mess with you.  Passing conversations you never intended to remember echo in your mind, "Mrs. G I forgot my homework at my crib." as he bounced from left to right.  "Really?  You sleep in a crib?  My son sleeps in a crib, but he's only 11 months old.  Funny, you seem way too old and far too large to be sleeping in a crib.  To each their own I guess." I smirk teasingly, and he repays me with childish, almost apologetic smile.  Yep, that got me thinking about gangs.  More specifically, about how gangs give kids what they wanted all along; a feeling of belonging.  A clear identity.  Acceptance.  I definitely wanted my kids to get as much of that from ME as possible!  I wasn't worried so much that  they'd run off and join the Crypts or the Bloods so much as I knew that when they were teens they'd start searching.  I wanted to give them a solid pad from which to launch themselves, and a compass, for the search.  It is so hard to navigate the hazards of our teenage years.  Who hasn't floundered a bit.  Those that flounder least have a decent idea of who they are when they enter into that period of life.  I wanted to give them that advantage.  Family identity, and knowing they will also be accepted for who they are are key.

Who needs a water park!

 My sons are stark contrasts to one another.  One is tall and svelte, the other also tall, but brutish in stature.  One is blonde, one Brunette.  One is a dyslexic math whiz, the other a poet that still adds on his fingers.  My Brunette sensitive to the needs of others and almost unaware of his own needs.  My Blonde, well he can tell you exactly how he feels at any given second, but has absolutely no awareness of the feelings or boundaries of others.  Yep, polar opposites.  Family is where they are loved for who they are, and where they find common ground.  I am thankful for the wise priest that told my husband I, "The greatest injustice is treat unequals equally."  In discipline, and communication they are treated according to their needs.  There is no box to fit into at our house, and yet those EVENTS are reoccurring.  I suppose that is how we see family.  

Yep, I started thinking about how I wanted to "define" our family.  Were we the crunchy kind of family?  Were we punk rock?  Were we sporty?  Where did we fit in?  We sorta fit all of those descriptions and more.  This was an evolution, correction.  This IS an evolution.  Honestly, the more our entire family grows in Christ the closer we get to a place were I worry less about manufacturing this, because it happens on it's own.  No, we haven't always exposed our kids to things that I'm proud of, and we have made some mistakes.  Heck, Cooper has almost grown up WITH us.  Everyone makes mistakes, no parent is perfect.  Besides, I don't think a label, like those above, is something I have ever been willing to live "up" too.  How confining.  No, what I think has mattered most is that we spend LOTS of time as a family, PERIOD.  What also matters is that we NEVER, and will never, impose a specific identity on our kids (i.e. "if you don't love football you don't belong" type of identity).  That's what their search is for.  Our job is to give them a compass and a place to feel safe.  That is done based on how we live, what and who we value.  We clearly, unemotionally, communicated to them what we expect of them, what we deem good choices/habits/behaviors, and who are good examples to follow.  We teach them how to chose friends that will benefit them.  We communicate this by LIVING IT.  Funny, the things I couldn't do for myself before them, I can do for myself now, because I'm doing it for them.

We have thrown aside the values of "the world"; status, possessions, and basically the lifestyle most of their peers are familiar with.  I'll be as specific as one paragraph allows.  Only one of us has worked full-time since our first child was born.  My next statement is offensive, it comes from experience this "having it all" idea is a myth.  When both parents work full time the kids suffer, except in very few circumstances where family support is incredibly great and even then I'd debate it.  There is no replacement for Mom or Dad.  I haven't yet met a kid that'd say, "I'd rather have name brand clothes than time with mom and dad".  Or, "I'd rather go to Disney land once a year than have time with my family every day".  Ask them yourself.  

We live on a Cash only basis with the exception of our mortgage (this allowed us the freedom to pick a house in a neighborhood were our kids are safe and surrounded by like minded families).  We don't take extravagant vacations.  We don't go out to eat.  We don't go to the movies, except on special occasions (and then to the budget theater or matinee).  We don't have Cable TV.  My kids get most of their clothes at Goodwill.  We didn't sign them up for sports until they were 10 and 7, and then only a non-competitive soccer league.  While we don't shelter them from alcohol (My husband and I like a beer or two every once in a while), We DO NOT allow people to drink to intoxication in front of them (this seems like a no-brainer, but it wasn't, which is a long story).  WE DO have family dinners nearly every night.  We do hike and camp near home FREQUENTLY.  We do go to Busch Gardens on our ONE annual free "military appreciation" day (Thank you Busch).  We do have fires and roast marshmallows in our backyard.  We do help people in our neighborhood that need it (see a need, fill a need).  We do have 1 tv (well that's a lie, we actually have 4 at the moment, we are storing 3 of them for friends, and can only watch one since we don't have cable).  We do monitor what we watch and listen to when they are around (also something that has evolved and become more stringent as they've gotten older).  We DO tuck them in every night and recap their day.  We DO work, play, pray, eat, laugh, cry, suffer, rejoice, and live TOGETHER.  Profound if you think about it.  You don't have to agree with our tastes to understand our methods.

We gave them life, but their lives are not ours.  We are their teachers, their mentors, the builders of their foundations.  I love them so much.  I want them to be successful BECAUSE of me, not in spite of me.  We need to be available, physically, emotionally, and cognitively in order ensure that.  It was very hard to be honest with myself about what it would take to make that desire a reality.  It is an everyday struggle to die to my own desires in order to give birth to this ONE true desire to build a solid foundation for my sons.  In essence I do give birth to them everyday, everyday until the day they take flight from me.

Perspective = Attitude

"I have to go the Bahamas in June, for about a month.  They are talking about Papua New Guinea for 6 weeks, but I don't think we'll go and besides I wouldn't be able to go anyway because of Joe's wedding."  I puke in my mouth a little.  I want to say, "ah hem.  Excuse me?!  I didn't walk away from things I loved so that you could go on "vacations".  I don't.  I roll my eyes instead.  It's my go to thing lately.  He says, "Don't worry the Army takes the fun out of everything."  They sure do, except I don't know how you can take the fun out of being in the Bahamas.

When he's gone, I'm home single parenting.  Like any other Army wife whose husband is absent.  I have no free time to do what I'd like (Hey, Michelle Obama there's something you can do to help military families CHILD CARE that we can actually afford).  I worry about him, diving is inherently dangerous.  I knew that's what I was signing up for, I just thought it would be for a nobler reason than going to the Bahamas to "train".  It irks me more than it should.  "It's just a job" he says to me frequently.  Yeah, sure it is.  It's a job that requires you to be gone for weeks at a time doing NOTHING important.  I told him last night my deepest darkest secret, "I'd rather you were gone for a year in combat than for a month here or there to places that are 'cool'.  Then my sacrifices would seem small, and worth while."  I'm pretty sure that's not actually true, but I sure feel that way sometimes.

I am capable. I am talented.  I am smart.  I am able.  I am all these things and more.  I feel trapped by his "job" so often because of the inconsistency it brings to our lives.  I can never get a schedule going.  As soon I do, he's gone again and I have to start from scratch.  Running, Grad school, a career; all things I desperately want to do and haven't yet.  I haven't because of the boys, because someone has to be around consistently for them.  So while he's off livin' the dream (he'll tell you quite another story.  I have a tendency to make his side of things sound way better for him than they are), I'm here being responsible.  I try so hard not to make it about "me", and yet I always do.

Seriously, say I get accepted into the Grad Program I'm aiming for.  They require summer classes.  Well, when he is off on these TDY's (Army for Temporary Duty) who is going to watch my kids?  They'd have a whole summer of no supervision.  They are in that weird in between period.  Too old for day care, not old enough to be alone.  I'd feel like a jerk.  If I ran 4 miles took classes and worked the boys would be totally screwed.  They'd be screwed if I just took the classes.  I used to run, teach and take classes.  Casey took care of the boys.  This flip flop of roles is tough.  Yet, I saw a man that hadn't had his turn because I had been the one living out my own dream.

Cooper and I at my Final Track Meet
for Indiana State.  Like I said
we had them young.

I make it about me because I once had life the way I wanted it.  It just about killed his spirit.  We had our kids young, very young.  We made a commitment to place our children above all else in our lives.  We're talking family dinners, family movie nights, FAMILY focused.  For several years this meant he stayed home and I worked.  I took advantage of the situation and ran, and started my masters.  He took the boys skateboarding, and painted with them.  He was a great stay at home dad (most of the time), even if he was a terrible house keeper (lol).  When I saw how miserable he'd become, how desperately unfulfilled he was, I urged him to pursue something of his own.  That's how we got here.

To be frank, he's a much better person than I am.  Even now, as "head of household", he is more considerate of me than I was of him when roles were reversed.  He does a wonderful job of honoring me on his trips, partially because he is incredibly cheap, but also because he understands its "just a job".  He doesn't take advantage of the situation or of me.  He recognizes how large I feel my sacrifice is, and he makes sacrifices of his own when he's away.  He spends his free time wisely and humbly, and calls home frequently to talk to the boys and me.  Really, can I ask for anything else?

Circa 2004 

We made a commitment to our kids; to raise them deliberately, and to put them, and their experience,  above all else.  He did his time, and now I'm doing mine.  It isn't always pleasant.  It isn't always fulfilling, but it is TOTALLY worth it when my kids are complimented on their behavior, kind heartedness, and work ethic, etc.  When I focus on the things I don't get to do I am hard to be around.  I don't even like myself.  When I focus instead on the ways that my best friend and husband acknowledges and respects my "willing" sacrifice I feel blessed, even if I'm not in the mood to feel "blessed".  Perspective is everything.

sweetest

My husband has been texting me on his lunch today with race propositions.  I'm not sure what they are talking about at work, but so far he has two race propositions from two different soldiers.  He is so cute.  I am lucky that he is, and always has been so supportive.  Saturday he suggested I make a three year plan.  With the goal three years from now being to train again.  Our kids would be almost 15 and almost 12, and my life would be less demanding (so we think now, right).  I guess I need to define what I mean when I say "train".  I haven't done that.

my 3 guys and the water

I love this article posted on facebook by my friend, and charge of Hudson, Pat Rizzo.  It spares no niceties in disclosing the two main facts about distance running; first, it takes years of running  A LOT (100+ miles per week) to be a world class elite, and second, there is no money in it for those of us (being me) national class runners.  The article, for me, speaks to the life I left.  Long workouts; 10 x 1 mile repeats or a 22 mile run with 16 miles just under marathon pace (at the time MP was 6:00-6:10), plus time at the Gym.  I LOVE working out like that.  Everyday I want to workout like that.  It is really time consuming and draining.  At least 2 hours a day of working out, and that's on the easier days.  Before I stopped training I had a hard time finding a gym because most of them have a 2 hour time limit for child care (Priorities awry).  Since training at that level, anything else seems silly.  All or nothing attitude that goes a little something like this, I can't eat just one M & M.  If I eat one I want to eat the entire 1 lb bag.  I don't care if makes me puke, they are simply too good.  So I'd rather just not eat that first M & M.  Running is the same way for me too.  Compulsive much?

On a TDY 

So I currently run 4 miles 4 times a week, or perhaps a 9 miler if I feel so moved and have the time.  I also make sure to give the stink eye to anyone that starts to talk about how hard they work out, to roll my eyes when his buddies talk about cross fit,  and to totally glaze over when I have to listen to these Army Divers brag about how hard core their PT is.  Because of course how I USED to work out far outshines what they do now.  Since I can't train like an elite athlete I have thrown in the towel on working out, and then roll my eyes at people that bust tail.  Sure that's totally rational.  There's no jealousy happening here, move along now.  Always working on that stinker inside of me.  She's a little thunder thief.  I ceased the involuntary one-ups-manship with them, that's a wonderful thing.  Glazing over is better right?

One of the other wives got into Cross-Fit and one day came over and started telling me what I needed to do to get better results from my workouts.  My reaction was totally inappropriate and cost us our friendship.  I stopped her mid prescription and told her something to the effect of "I don't want your help.  I was an athlete for years before you got into this fad."  She is the sensitive (in a sweet way) type, and this really hurt her feelings.  This attitude of superiority surfaced post Army.  That whole, "I'll show you attitude" just sorta went crazy, and yet I didn't have any way to make good on it without stealing time from my sons.  Perhaps my husband has a point.  Perhaps running is the best way to knock that chip off my shoulder, now that I'm fully aware of the serious imbalance I have allowed it to cause in my life, begrudgingly thanks to the Army.  My forced time away from it has allowed me to be really introspective.

Elite start Chicago Marathon 2008, Casey with
the boys, and Mama about to live the dream,
though things didn't go well that day.
 I thought I'd have many many more.
My how the tables did turn, and oh how
I have not adjusted easily.

I think his plan is a good idea.  First, because it would force me to use a great deal of self-discipline to run 40 miles a week consistently.  It would definitely humble me.  It would force me to run for enjoyment, because there would be no formal training plan.  No, 2 hard days one long day, no prescribed weekly mileage.  Just a simple, you can't EXCEED 40mpw for all of 2012.  Second, I like it because with the formality taken out of it I can focus my energy on preparing my mind and spirit to enjoy my passion humbly and without ego, like I used to.  He said, "You can't deny yourself the ability to act out a crucial part of who you are."  I might have been doing that even before I walked away.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with deconstructing yourself in order to get at the  core of what it is you need in order to know how to "act out a crucial part of who you are."  He thinks I should race at least once a year.  Jury is out on that.  He thinks racing would be a way to transfer the humility I'm learning daily onto the competitive stage.  I see where he's coming from.

I have to give myself a little credit,  I am not always so superior, nor do I see myself as a workout diva in all circles, certainly not among my running friends.  Even when I was full out training I ran lower mileage than most of peers, by 20 miles per week at least.  This superiority started when we entered the Army.  It's not an easy transition, and negatively effects each of us differently.  So no, I don't strut around town with my nose in the air.  I am genuinely pretty warm, friendly, and compassionate a majority of the time.  Given you don't accidentally stomp on the landmine of resentment (directed at no one/nothing in particular) I'm trying to defuse.

Surrendering Stinks Sometimes.

It is funny.  I was perfectly okay with this weekend.  Better than I thought I'd be actually.  The Olympic Trials were a touchstone in my surrendering the life of an elite distance runner to devote myself to motherhood.  Before and during the race I was content to live vicariously through my friends.  When it was over and I looked through the results I broke down, not because my former running/training partners did so well (placing: 2, 9, 13, 26, 33, and 74th) .  Heck no, I am incredibly proud of them!  I got upset for a completely different reason.  Well, sort of.

I have to give a little background.  Christmas of 2008 I secretly looked into the World Class Athlete Program offered by the Army.  I knew I could get paid to train, and get great benefits for the family.  If I went through Basic Training and AIT I would then be allowed to train freely at the location of my choosing.  I thought I met the requirements, which at that time were to have placed in the top 3 at a national competition within the last 2 years. When I inquired I was told I in fact did not qualify because the national competition was not an Olympic Distance (It was a 25k).  Not long after that Casey came to me with his dream of joining the Army, so I didn't pursue it further.  I wasn't going to have both parents gone at basic training and AIT.  That seemed really selfish.   They have since changed the requirements to make them more black and white.  I feel the Marathon standard is still totally within my limits if I were to train again.  Now back to the results.

I saw, in the top 25, not one but two women running for the US Army W.C.A.P.  Neither of them were better runners than myself.  They were granted entrance into the program around the same time I inquired and neither of them were within 3 minutes of any of my PR's at the time.   Because I like to torture myself I researched, and found that neither woman currently on the team made the standard before being admitted.  However, they were career soldiers FIRST, then applied (not comforting to me though due to smugness I often experience on the part of female soldiers).  At this point the faster one has  PR's in the 10k and Half Marathon that are actually a just under a minute slower than mine, but a 15k PR that is faster than mine.  We are comparable runners I suppose.  The second still isn't even close to my PR's.  So then, I wanted to know WHY NOT ME!  I felt myself burn with anger and resentment.  I stiffened involuntarily, feeling as though I'd been cheated out of what rightfully belonged to me.

I silently slumped about the house all morning.  "Annie, is there coffee?" "I dunno.  Do you still have legs?  Go look."  If Casey came downstairs I went upstairs.  If he came up I went down.  We normally talk and drink coffee all morning on Saturday and Sunday.  I wanted to punch him and those two stupid girls right in the face.  I was seriously ready to ramp up my training to show up at the Army 10 miler in a cheesy "Army Wife" T-shirt and kick their asses.  Show them whose boss.  Show them how undeserving they were.  Exactly the attitude I have worked so hard to recover from.

Of course Casey wanted to know what was wrong.  I told him.  Of course his response was insensitive, "I gave it (a promising athletic career) all up too.  I moved on."  In all fairness "giving it up" isn't the same as "losing it".  Power events (high jump) and distance events are very different in this way.  "At any moment honey, I can pick it back up and be back where I was in a year or so.  It isn't the same."  Crying hysterically at this point, which makes him totally uncomfortable because I don't do this often.  He shifts his weight every 2 seconds and keeps his arms locked to his sides in terror that I might try to cling on.  In a Hank Hill to Luanne tone he asks, "Annie, seriously, how many dead ends are you gonna hit before you get God's point?  Have you prayed?"  Okay, so while this is totally correct, it may not have been the best timing ever.  Left hook much?

I didn't hit my husband.  I didn't even yell at him, even though I really wanted to.  I knew he was right.  It wasn't meant to be.  Those women WEREN'T undeserving at all.  I was being a jerk.  I have said several times that Pride and Vanity are huge issues for me, Vengeance too I suppose.  I am doing what I have been called to do.  I don't always like it.  In fact sometimes I down right want to scream at God that he made a mistake, throw myself down arms and legs in every direction, and demand to have my way.  Luckily, within minutes some one or something enlightens me as to my assholish ways and then I find strength to admit that I am wrong.

Enjoyed this day and ran w/o an ego.  The following year I had a huge ego.  

Tonight at Mass, as I prayed, I envisioned myself running a race.  I was near the front of the pack chasing down this woman.  I was filled with the "I'm gonna show you whose boss" feeling.  I looked to the spectators and saw Jesus.  His shoulders slouched, head hanging and shaking in disappointment and sadness.  Then I envisioned myself again running a race.  This time I had no idea where I was in the pack.  I was filled with joy.  I noticed the way the light filtered through the leaves, they way their greens contrasted against a bright blue sky.  I noticed the festive colors of the finish area and Jesus behind the finish line excitedly waving me in.  His arms WIDE open waiting to wrap me up after I finished.  I actually have had both race experiences in real life, minus Jesus being there in person of course.  I realized it's the same Jesus, but different me's.  It is my choice.  I can use my talents or abuse them.  In using them they help others and myself.  "Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory..." Phillipians 2:3  Until I can run with that verse in my heart I will not "train" or compete.  I would just make it all about me, and everyone around me would suffer.  Not to mention the demands of being a military wife with 2 school age children are preventative enough in their own right.  I have made the right choice.  I feel confirmed that I am following God's will for me and my family.  Though I still have days when it is hard to be at peace with it.

What? You talking to me?

Panting.  Straining.  My muscles flex and release in a heavy, uneven cadence.  "Aw man, I feel like crap.  My legs are lead, and lungs are about to burst.  I can't wait until this is over... hey someone is coming.  Look lively.  Pick it up.  Make it look effortless.  Suppress that breathing!  sound chipper now, 'hello!' Ha!  I showed him.  Dang, now I'm really dead."  This is me, enjoying a run.  HA!  Honestly, this could be a metaphor for me "enjoying" life sometimes too.

Today, while I was running I didn't do this, but I did remember a day last week when I did something similar.  I was running through William and Mary College's Campus.  I have a tendency to especially "enjoy" runs on campus, I like to think I'm "showing those college kids whose boss".  Some "college kid" starts taunting me with, "Run! Run! Run!" and fake running arms.  So I schooled him with a, "You couldn't keep up", only to look over my shoulder to see one of the members of the College's Men's track team blazing past me on the other side of the street.  I am arrogant, prideful, vain, keep the list rolling... Mostly I like to make things about me.  I'm fast.  I'm smart.  I'm tough.  I deserve this.  I don't deserve that.  That's human nature isn't it.  God frequently, like this time, shows me that he expects a little more humility from me, but I sure don't want to listen.  The effect?  I take things I should enjoy, like a run, and make them miserable for me, and those around me, while simultaneously looking like a jack ass.  At least now I not only know this about myself, but I am working to knock it off.

I wasn't all that aware of God's attempts to show me this flaw until my husband left for boot camp.  I took on EVERYTHING: remodeling a house, homeschooling my kids, running my own business, and (though barely) keeping our utilities on, the car from getting repo-ed, and the house from going into foreclosure (Army didn't pay us for 10 weeks).  I mean, I AM superwoman, duh.  I THOUGHT I was being totally selfless, but in all reality I was being prideful, and indignant.  My neighbors offered help, and I NEEDED it, but I didn't accept it.  Superwoman doesn't need help.  In fact even offering help to Superwoman is taken as an insult.

One afternoon, after a day slaving away for my family, I was about to leave for my evening of tutoring several students.  It was a cold, snowy, Michigan evening.  I started the car, belted Cooper in.  He was 9.  Then walked Will to the neighbors.  The only help I accepted was to allow them to drive him to wrestling.  I walk back to the car and Cooper is standing outside of it.  "Why aren't you in the car?"
"I forgot something, but the house was locked"  I go to open the car door, but it's locked.  The car is still running.  The house locked.  The car locked and running.  I have no money.  Great.  (so I'll just use symbols instead of letters now).

"Excuse me!  What the @#$% Cooper.  G#$D@#MIT!  I don't have any money.  I'm going to be late to make money because you didn't listen to me!  Why the F@#$ didn't you listen to me."  At this point I hear myself talking.  This isn't me.  I rarely raise my voice at my kids, and now I'm swearing at my 9 year old who has a steady stream of tears rolling down his rosy cheeks.  I don't just swear at him.  I blame him.  In excusable, he is a child!  Wow.  Stressed much Superwoman?  After a very nice sheriff's deputy unlocks my car I find the clicker in my pocket.  I could've unlocked it all along.

With great humility, and shame, I apologize to Cooper.  I show him the car remote that I found in my pocket.  I admit that what I did was absolutely wrong, and I ask him to forgive me.  He says, "Thanks Mom, and of course I forgive you.  You are just stressed out and missing dad.  I know how you feel."  He certainly did, because he, more than any of us, was pining away for his dad.  Wow.  I'm a jack ass.  It was at this moment that I realized how much my pride, and my focus on myself (he locked ME out of the car, I was going to be late etc.), wounds everyone around me.  It isn't about me.  What I have a tendency to do on runs, ruin them by making them more about me than about the run, I also do in regular every day life.  Except I'm ruining more than a run.  Since that cold day with Cooper I have used my urges to make my runs about me (proving how tough I am) as an opportunity to conquer my pride.  Sometimes I still fail.

Now when my husband is gone and I'm doing it all, all by myself, I'm not as afraid to ask for help.  I am weak, and I need it.  I CAN'T do it all myself.  When I start to get cocky God always reminds me to be humble.  My kids are quite thankful for  the change.  Now Dad's absences aren't accompanied with a Mom spread thin to screaming.  I'm glad I learned that early on.  Now I can enjoy them, because I'm not making it about me.  I see this as a HUGE blessing, because I think it's normal human nature to make everything about "us".  It takes divine intervention to realize A.) that we do it B.) how we do it C.) how it affects our relationships and finally, D.) what we need to do to fix it.  So if confessing that I swore a red streak at my 9 year old because I'm a prideful idiot helps anyone else get A,B,C, or D it's worth it!

All the Small Things...

I have a lot going on in my head today.  I could probably write 3 or 4 posts.  Perhaps I will.  For now I'll keep it simple.  My husband and I are are resolved to see to the little things this year.  Little things like, making the bed, keeping up with the dishes, brushing our teeth, making healthier choices.  How mundane.  Yes, Annie this is where your life is.  How necessary.  If I can't master these little things how am I supposed to move on to bigger things?  I find it very hard to tend to the mundane details of life.  I love my interior journey, and helping my kids develop.  I loath routine, it takes away from my thinking, but if I'm actually going to develop into a more "whole" person I have to get out of the comfort zone.  How am I supposed to give the boys opportunities for selfless service if I can't remember to call charities, let alone show up.  Neither of my kids have been through first communion because we do religious education at home and I can't remember to sign them up for Religious Education after Mass on Sunday.  It's not on my Radar, the homily is.

Will and I. An old collage I made.  A statement on my way of "being"

It takes way more effort and energy for me to establish a routine and see to tasks of everyday life than it seems to take other people.  I have a planner.  If I don't write an appointment down in that planner it doesn't happen.  I don't think I could survive a week in the "real" world without it.  I even have to write down things like, "go to the grocery store", "call your family", "put on deodorant", and "drink more water".  I see other mothers effortlessly keeping appointments, looking very "together", while I struggle to keep up.  In fact, I get my hair styled so that I don't have to comb it and it will still look great.  If I had longer hair the world would surely know my secret.  I have baskets and drawers in my house so that I can literally throw things in them, close them and my house will still look neat.  Note to friends, beware before opening ANYTHING up in my house, I am not responsible for any injuries that may occur.  I often wear mismatched socks.  I don't care if they match so long as they serve their purpose.  Luckily it's a fad right now.  I really try hard to look "good" when going out in public with the "guys" in my life, but if the folks we encountered followed us home they'd find a slightly different story.  Don't get me wrong I love to get dressed up and be shown off, and this is true of everyone to an extent.  I just bet they'd be surprised at what they'd find in my dresser drawers. (One day I brought the boys into our bedroom, opened drawers on either side of the dresser.  One side was neatly folded and organized; the other side looked like a few families of mice had been nesting in it for a decade or two.  I said, "Which side is Dad's?"  They both pointed to the organized side, and started laughing.)

I'm not going to try to change who I am, fundamentally as a person.  I just want to show myself a little respect, and to be a little more "with it" for my family.  I want to practice being present in the now, instead of far away in my mind.  So this year, I am going to attempt to be a little more grounded in tending to daily tasks.  I plan only on changing those things which will make me healthier, and more "responsible".  Even if I have to make charts of charts in order to keep on it.  Good luck to me.

Something Good to say

I am obsessed with running along the James River, the river my ancestors (paternal lineage) traveled down in 1699.  Family history is so awesome.  I picture their wooden beast of a ship heaving itself up the James every time I run along it.  Though they were founding members of the Knights of Malta, They were now Huguenot nobility escaping religious oppression.  Not everyone lived through the trip across the punishing Atlantic.  They were escaping to the "New World" to land that William the Orange had promised them for their Heroics in his crusade against the Irish (Catholics).  The town they founded actually still exsists, there is a Huguenot museum there, (List of settlers: Daniel Foure is my ancestor listed in the final column).  This branch of my family sure liked to kill people in the name of religious affiliation.  I'm Catholic, my mom is Irish catholic.  So much for all that fighting, and exile.

I have a giant chest tattoo in the center is the family shield for this branch, behind it is a Maltese Cross, and behind the Maltese Cross is a Eucharist.  There is a point to all of this.  Everyone has something to contribute to our development spiritually and intellectually.  I don't want to miss out on what I can learn from Ayn Rand simply because she was an Atheist, "Ask yourself whether the dream of heaven and greatness should be waiting for us in our graves - or whether it should be ours here and now and on this earth."  I know what her intended meaning was, but I take something very different away from this quote than she intended.  Even though she might roll over in her grave, I can interpret this as telling me to live for heaven now.  I will not keep from myself the words of an author because of their religious beliefs, because I want to explore myself.  There is no discovery in exploration without a challenge.  I certainly will not kill someone because they don't see eye to eye with me.  

I am lucky enough know of the contradictions that riddle my family's history.  I think this has given me permission to view all people as equally, inherently, flawed, and as able teachers.  Einstein, Aristotle, Dickens, Rand, Ghandi, all flawed and all lend VALUABLE insights that I have learned from.  They all had something good to say.  While they may not share my religious beliefs or practices, they have something to teach about Virtue, even if some of them (ahem Dickens) weren't very virtuous.  I'll take the lesson and leave the internal struggle of the teacher to the teacher to worry about.  My tattoo is a "little" reminder of not only family history, but also of this lesson:  a life well lived accomplishes more than the sword.  Oh yeah,  P.s. on a sidenote.  Even though my Ancestor, Daniel Foure, was one of the Huguenots that helped to found Manakin Va in order to escape religious persecution, I cannot join the Huguenot society headed there because I am not a protestant.  I don't care who you are, that's funny.