Fer Real?

So I have this friend - we'll call her "Elly May" - who has been through a lot in her life.  I know, I know, who hasn't, right?  But she's sort of an enigma.  One of her friends told her recently to not lose her "jaded" since it's one of her better qualities.  You see, she has become completely jaded given those lots of things she's been through in her life, particularly relationships.

Her way of feeling better about her sense of constant jadedness, perhaps subconsciously, perhaps sometimes not, is to help others.  Or at least try to.  Try and instill in them a sense of urgency about what making horrible decisions can do.  The consequences which will undoubtedly ensue, making the road ahead much more difficult than necessary to traverse. 

Elly May is a doer.  A fixer.  Fiercely independent.  Yet, at her core, she's compassionate and loving, and feels really badly about the people she's let down in her life because of those inherent qualities.  The qualities which are both a blessing and a curse.  She's labeled as thinking she's better than others, or she's labeled as not caring about others, or she's labeled as...fill in the blank.  Labels are given to her by those who are either insecure and jealous, or those who truly don't know her and refuse to take the time to do so given their insecure and jealous.  If, in their opinion, she's nice - she's patronizing; if she's not, she's an elitist bitch.

Tough place to be.  For my friend.

She told me this past week was particularly difficult for her.  While always introspective, she actually heard "it" this week.  She was on the receiving end of what undoubtedly is the root of the tears she sometimes sheds.  The ones no one would believe she cries since she's so "tough."  Elly met with a counselor at her church, in an effort to volunteer and help with one more program, share one more story, talk to one more person and connect her church to a similar program.  At the end of all the business talk, apparently the counselor asked her how everything was going and why she stayed so busy.  Forced introspection, I'm sure, was not easy for her since she likes to do things which she decides to do, and certainly not do them when anyone else tells her to.

I've tried to tell her this myself but as usual, she won't listen.  The counselor told her she didn't feel "accepted" and she has been trying to do things her entire life to fit in, since most people who don't know her box her out.  Or conversely, the people who do choose to be around her find they really enjoy it, but internally, if they are insecure with themselves, wish they weren't.  And, since she's not an idiot, she also picks up on this and then feels badly and somehow responsible all over again.

Wow do I get why the woman is jaded.  Kinda hard not to be with all that heady stuff being backed up day after day by 90% of the people she encounters.

Yesterday Elly May tried to attend an event which rendered her in the presence of people who, at one point in her life were her life, but are now just kind of an awkward ancillary memory.  An attempt for her to try and once again do the "right" thing, be accepted by people who probably never really fully did, and to put on a brave face for everyone around her.

She told me it was like having a giant target on her back or, more appropriately given the setting, a little red dot on her forehead.  When I asked her how she knew she maybe shouldn't have gone and that it was time to leave, she replied:

"I was standing in a pole barn holding a plate of corn bread and ranch dip while watching people ride up on 4-wheelers.  Discussing fishin' and huntin' and 'coons in freezer stories.  My ex-husband was acting like he was Obama at the DNC, his mother was shooting daggers at me, and I was the only one NOT wearing either a season or one of the aforementioned events on a sweatshirt.  Ask me again."

What a bitch.

el amor

I cry in church every Sunday.  Without fail, something makes me cry.  For the past year, it's been this overwhelming sense of God's love rather than sheer misery which preceded it for a longer period of time than I care to admit.  Today I had tears streaming down my cheeks while I sang and smiled as if I had a bigger mouth than I actually do.

With a complete sense of peace and unwavering amount of faith - I sang 10,000 Reasons.  I could not be any more in love with that song.  It moves me at my core.  The cadence is enveloping; the words are extraordinary.

So as I'm standing there, swaying, smiling, thanking, loving...I get it.  Maybe not everything - but whatever it is that I got, I didn't let go.  I hung on to the simple notion that I have had some very special people in my life, at exactly the right times, for exactly the right reasons, and I've had the opportunity to love them and be loved by them.  I hung on...

Sometimes longer than I should have, perhaps.  Sometimes, not tightly enough.  Sometimes, once, from afar.  Unspoken.  Unrequited.  Unbelievable.

Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes.

I was singing this line moments ago as I climbed the stairs and Liv shushed me because she was reading.  So I hummed instead.

You're rich in love, and You're slow to anger
Your name is great, and Your heart is kind
For all Your goodness I will keep on singing
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find

After the song was over, we sat down and continued learning about Paul's letter to the Colossians.  In our notes, we wrote down three of his character traits, which instantly confirmed for me why I came to the conclusion last week that I love Paul.

Paul had 1) a brilliant mind; 2) an indomitable will; 3) a tender heart

I love.  I love lists, I love these words, I love that I still have the propensity to believe in love.  I love knowing, unequivocally, that I'll feel it again.

Which is a song by Honeymoon Suite.  We did not sing that in church today.

Life-Altering Laughter Always Transpires at Bdubs

It's happening.  I always knew the day would eventually come when my mothering was no longer needed as much.  When my stellar parenting, directions, and advice - all based on my own remarkable choices - would no longer be required in Liv's quest for survival.  If I am honest, this whole transformation has been quietly occurring in the background for the last couple years.  I've been purposely ignoring it.  Until now.  Today marks the day in which I am accepting it; in fact after the lunch we just had, there's really no way I couldn't.

The girl is funny.  Wicked funny.  Sure, part of me wants to look at her as she's zinging these zingers and pretend I don't get a thing she's saying.  But the other part of me is secretly thinking 3 things as my gut is shaking uncontrollably in utter hysteria:  1) Nice one.  2) A good parent would consider that a punishable word.  3)  I am SO taking credit for at least some of her sardonic gifts.

We (ok, I) had a busy morning.  Ran 14 miles at 5:45am.  Home at 7:56, showered by 8:19, left for church at 8:50.  Service until 10:15; video shoot for Nicaragua sponsor child at 10:20; Spanish class at 10:30; volunteer at the Event Center at 11:30.  Uno madre and su hija...super famished.

Bdubs.  We're both kind of hooked on it, especially Liv.  I love it for very different reasons, but I love it nonetheless.  So in we go and the conversation immediately ensues.  For all the finger-licking that has gone down there, it will forever pale in comparison to the conversations.

Liv:  I'm excited to go to the OSU game next month.  Those seats will rock!
Me:  [Less excited, as we are taking her "boyfriend" for his 16th and a yet TBD "person" for me to sit with]  It'll be fun.

Liv:  Who do you think you'll take, Mom?
Me:  [Still trying to be "Mom" and not succumb to the impending role-reversal]  No idea, honey, but I'm sure someone will want to watch some football.  It's OSU! 

Liv:  You know, Mom, it's easy.
Me:  [Oh sh*t]:  Watching football?  I know it is.

Liv:  Duh, no.  Them.
Me:  I love Fall weather.  It's my favorite season EVER.

Liv:  Boys are just not all that complicated.  [pretend male voice]  "FOOD!  SEX!  ME NO HAVE EMOTION."
Me: Well Liv, while there might be a bit of underlying truth to those stereotypes, I for one hope to find one some day with a smidge more substance than the Big Three.

Liv:  You're the one who told me stereotypes exist for a reason.
Me:  [to myself]  Great parenting genius, although she totally got your steel trap never-forgets-anything-that-anyone-she-loves-says thing.

Thankfully, our food arrives.  Her dissertation continues with seemingly rhetorical questions such as, "Do you know how hypocritical boys can be, Mom?  They LOVE long legs, yet we can't be taller than they are.  How can I be short with looooonnng legs?  They want us to need them, yet we can't be needy.  They want us to be independent, but we can't be smarter than they are."

Honestly, it's like a stand-up routine.  Of course the audience would be all heterosexual women and men would hate her, but I'm pretty sure she could at least put herself through school with this monologue. 

(And for the record as a side note, we are honestly not feminists.  She is not forever jaded by my track record, nor do I speak ill about any most of it.  The constant message I preach is: foundational friendship.  Have it.) 

Just then, four high-school boys buffoon in and are seated immediately behind Liv.  I see them.  I see them pretend not to check out the back of her beautiful naturally curly hair and simultaneously wonder if I am actually her Mom, as if the mafia hit look I'm giving them isn't a tell-tale.

Dude, LET'S SMASH SOME WINGS!  I'M LIKE FREAKIN' STARVIN'.  DID YOU SEE THAT WAITRESS, C'MON, SHE IS SMOKIN'.  Dude, ANDREW LUCK IS SO GONNA BE BETTER THAN MANNING.  He's LIKE...OLD NOW.

Liv:  [With only a slight nod of her head over her shoulder, no turning around required]:  Exhibit A.

"It is impossible for a man to be cheated by anyone but himself." - Emerson

Today is day 4 of 5 at this Technology Conference.  I'm pretty ready to come home.  Snarfing a pizza while watching a movie in my room at 10:00pm only sounded like fun.  Sweating profusely the following day on the treadmill to purge myself of the extra calories and guilt was fun.

I'm learning a lot.  Not only about the new release of a particular suite of a software solution which I sell, but about people.  I know a lot about the former, in that it's been my profession for the last eighteen years; apparently I also know a lot about the latter, in that I've been interacting with them for the last thirty-nine.

People.  We are funny creatures.  Messy.  Fun.  Not so fun.  Annoying.  Disingenuous.  Smarmy.  Lots of smarm around here...

One guy actually said the words (ok, slurred):  Let's understand something.  I am not graced by your presence right now, even though you're beautiful.  There are so many things wrong with that, I'm not even going to touch it (pun intended) except to say I have this uncontrollable and unfortunate problem of bursting into laughter at the most inopportune times.  Only I'm pretty sure that timing was totally appropriate. 

I have no idea what chick in that loser's life made him feel like he was lucky to be with her, but obviously there was one.  Categorically, knowing absolutely nothing about it, two things are for certain:  she was right and there was only one.

Literally and metaphorically, there is so much baggage around this sprawling conference center that it's both saddening and providing cheap entertainment for me.  Yet it continues to remind me that I'm no different.  No different from any of these people (well, except that jack ass) or, from any of the jaded lenses we look through as we meet new individuals.

Another rather nice guy actually said these words to me:  I thought we had a connection?  Yeah, we've both read the same author.  Call me old-fashioned, but that does not equate to waking up together in MY book. 

The author was a fiction writer.  The only fiction I read, really, while on beach vacations.  And this week is no vacation. 

I'm ready to be home.

New Series

One of my friends told me in a not so polite manner that this blog appears in his start up each morning when he arrives to work.  Now mind you, my guilt when a new blog does not appear for His Highness is tempered by the fact I'm still not entirely convinced he actually "works."  That aside - I have one thing to say before I head out for a week long conference.

Yesterday we started a 21 week series on the book of Colossians.  I'm very excited about this study.  It is not a story, as so many books of the Bible are and as we all have come to expect and resonate with as we go about our daily lives.  Instead, Paul wrote this book (along with others) while he was imprisoned; this book was actually a letter to the people of Colossae, whom he had not yet even met.

I wish I could have known Paul back in the day.  Actually, I wish I could meet a Paul-ish guy in this day.  He was physically tough, sound-minded, right hearted, and experienced things that most of us won't even come close to even thinking about. 

Mostly, I just really like the guy for writing.  He was a prisoner so he couldn't do anything, per se, so he did what he was capable of doing in that moment - he wrote.  Exquisitely.  Passionately.  How cool it is that we can read through, learning about times in history and yet, be able to apply the lessons to our current day.  I wonder if it ever dawned on Paul as he was going through the situations, as he was being taught by Jesus, as he was living. 

I'd LOVE to do that.  Write - hand-write - letters daily for someone else to find someday.  They'd definitely think I wrote them from an insane asylum but that's ok.  I have a lot to say.  I have a lot that swirls in my head which I've not yet even begun to blog about.

What I could write would make for a good story, that's for sure.  Stuff no one knows about - well, maybe the guy who has time to know since he never works, but not the masses.  Man, the new shades of grey that would come of it, not to mention the new number for infinity, would be truly astounding.

Hmm.  One more thing to think about.

9-11

Today is my birthday.  Today I am:

1.  Overwhelmed with emotion
2.  Filled with joy
3.  Appreciative
4.  Remembering
5.  Surprised
6.  Inspired to be more, do more, become more
7.  Content
8.  Thankful
9.  Smiling
10.  Older

This Old Soul

Sunday evening:  7:39pm. 

Just finished cleaning the kitchen after eating a dinner consisting of chicken, sausage, sweet potatoes and noodles which I made for Liv.  (And...her boyfriend, although she eschews calling him such.)

I actually like the kid.  He's polite, normal, comes from a good family (I know because his parents refused to let him come over until they met me...guess I'm sort of normal, too).  Liv and I have this horrendous habit of watching TV when we eat dinner.  I'm sure Parenting magazine would have a field day with the whole scene, but they only write about fictitious little Ozzie and Harriet families and balloon making craft tables at birthday parties anyway. 

Liv grabs the remote as Kevin is cutting into his sweet potato.  We'll finish watching Wedding Crashers, she announces.  Yikes.  The only saving grace here is that it is the edited version. Sort of.

We've heard it all before, Mom.  I feel like asking her the age old, "If your friends all jumped off a bridge, would you follow?"  I'm not sure there's a correlation either.  It just sounded good in my defense.

It's early on in the movie.  I am staring at our TV screen as if it's Mission Earth at Epcot Center where, if you look away, the vertigo gets you and you immediately puke inside of that claustrophobic death trap as you're sardined next to other vacationing strangers.  I see Claire Cleary, played by the lovely Rachel McAdams, delivering the wedding toast.  With dewy, idealistic eyes, she says: True love is your soul's recognition of its counterpart in another.

Cue Gary Sinise's voice as CapCom because I was just transported to Orlando.  I want to hurl.  Perhaps it was from the punch in the gut as I heard these words which I somehow want to believe.  Probably even long to believe, being somewhat of a closet romantic. 

Just as Claire Cleary so astutely responds to John Beckwith when he first delivers this (blatant pick-up) line to her, "It's a little cheesy, but I like it," I couldn't agree more.

Obviously I have no idea if it's true.  Given my track record, I'm probably the wrong person to ask.  I do, however, know that earlier today I came across these gems which I can attest are COMPLETELY true:

 

These things are all the rave, so they normally repulse me.  But not these.  These made me appreciate that I still have my sense of humor and a teenage daughter who is way smarter than I was at her age.

Oh, and the house.  Which Kevin is leaving.

Sugar and Bitters

I hung up the phone awhile ago with one of my best highfalutin friends.  He laughs at the adjective, but secretly enjoys the accuracy.  I'm not thrilled that he now lives in Scottsdale (told you), but I am very happy to talk to him on the phone every now and then.  The actual phone.

While we may have been mobile in our respective homes while chatting, there is something about old-fashioned communication that enhances the exchange.  It's nice to hear an actual voice instead of some impostor emoticon.  I feel ripped off every time someone grants me 20-20 vision into the window of their meager little soul via one of those possessed symbols.

Now, if they're sent to me from someone who knows me well enough to do it strictly in sardonic fashion - fine.  Good.  Enjoyable.  But if one of my friends is upset and sends me the cry-baby face, it makes me want to send the Grrrr ANGRY-SMURF-MAN! face back, because I am now mad that I'm on the other end making fun of my friend - who is obviously upset.  I'd rather hear their voice cracking in grief or gut wrenching in laughter so I can feel connected to them instead of connected to Mr. Yuk and his family.

Anyway, I struggle with the conflict between instantaneous communication and old-fashioned means.  The former is a necessity in today's working world, but I would argue it does not translate whatsoever in today's social world.  In fact, it totally jacks it all up.  You can't get to know someone, really know someone, through texting or emailing alone.  It's the equivalent of liquid courage.  People say things when they're under the influence of alcohol that no way would they say stone cold sober. (My "friend" Deb would tell you that I told some cashier guy he was svelte - sure he was behind the register at Cap-N-Cork but she's a liar nonetheless). 

Old-fashioned communication is sweeter, more meaningful, and longer-lasting.  Hallmark cards?  I save them all.  Post-it notes left in surprise locations?  I leave them for Liv frequently; she saves them all.  A hand-written thank you card on vellum with a 24k cresty-seal from my highfalutin friend?  Still in my office - next to the other one until Cash For Gold branches out beyond jewelry.

People hide behind all sorts of facades, whether it's 4 glasses of wine or poetic words.  And tomorrow afternoon, when Liv's stupid teenage boy"friend" comes over after school to "study," he better remember this is 2012 - when all communication is done through non-sweet, non-meaningful, and lickety-split-like-lasting texts.  From separate rooms. 

Thank goodness they're too young to remember Roxanne.