Thursday, October 29, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
That’s the Way Love Goes
It's been awhile, I know. I meant to post this on Thursday. Think of my absense as building suspense. Or demand...lol...
My latest tattoo is healing up nicely. It looks less and less like raw, pink, self mutilation every day, lol. Sabin, my tattoo artist, goes to my church and assures me it will get darker (well, whiter) after the second round. I might want black ink after all, we’ll see. I figure, if you’re gunna make a statement, why whisper it? The idea came to me in a day and I think I gave it maybe 12 hours of thought, truth be known. I had planned to have something completely different put on a completely different part of my body. But what can I say? When lightning strikes…
I got the tatt during another emotionally complicated episode this year (man, 09 has been full of 'em!). I gave my life to Christ and things sort of hit the fan - coming at me all at once. The infamous MSO (My Special One) had found me again, 3200 miles away, but was drifting out of my life for the third time & I was wrestling with the fact that I was actually encouraging it! For various reasons, my mother is physically and emotionally unable to “be there” for me the way a mom usually is. I suspected coming to the west coast wouldn’t change our relationship, but I’d still hoped. Now she was proving my suspicions to be fact. My grandfather had a heart attack, followed by the news another relative has brain cancer and I was barely receiving updates on either of them when, a few days later, I learned several members of my family (my grandparents included) belong to either a religious cult, or a religious sect (more on that later - you can bet that's a blog post!). I felt totally overwhelmed.
I knew one thing, though: I was done chasing love. I was done being understanding and supportive of men like MSO, while giving away all of me. I was done projecting perfection to my gramma to earn her approval, I was done pretending text forwards from my father suffice for a relationship and I was done always being available for my mother, who never follows through anyway. I wanted a reminder. “Love” on the tender inside part of my outstretched arm. Reaching, always reaching. Until now. At the same time, I felt God reminding me that faith without deeds is dead. Love, on my outstretched arm. Reminding me to do. Both, from now on.
My latest tattoo is healing up nicely. It looks less and less like raw, pink, self mutilation every day, lol. Sabin, my tattoo artist, goes to my church and assures me it will get darker (well, whiter) after the second round. I might want black ink after all, we’ll see. I figure, if you’re gunna make a statement, why whisper it? The idea came to me in a day and I think I gave it maybe 12 hours of thought, truth be known. I had planned to have something completely different put on a completely different part of my body. But what can I say? When lightning strikes…
I got the tatt during another emotionally complicated episode this year (man, 09 has been full of 'em!). I gave my life to Christ and things sort of hit the fan - coming at me all at once. The infamous MSO (My Special One) had found me again, 3200 miles away, but was drifting out of my life for the third time & I was wrestling with the fact that I was actually encouraging it! For various reasons, my mother is physically and emotionally unable to “be there” for me the way a mom usually is. I suspected coming to the west coast wouldn’t change our relationship, but I’d still hoped. Now she was proving my suspicions to be fact. My grandfather had a heart attack, followed by the news another relative has brain cancer and I was barely receiving updates on either of them when, a few days later, I learned several members of my family (my grandparents included) belong to either a religious cult, or a religious sect (more on that later - you can bet that's a blog post!). I felt totally overwhelmed.
I knew one thing, though: I was done chasing love. I was done being understanding and supportive of men like MSO, while giving away all of me. I was done projecting perfection to my gramma to earn her approval, I was done pretending text forwards from my father suffice for a relationship and I was done always being available for my mother, who never follows through anyway. I wanted a reminder. “Love” on the tender inside part of my outstretched arm. Reaching, always reaching. Until now. At the same time, I felt God reminding me that faith without deeds is dead. Love, on my outstretched arm. Reminding me to do. Both, from now on.
The dot, dot, dot is an important part to…it reminds me that one way or another, my lesson on love – my “love story” – isn’t over yet. :)
Love y'all,
~M~
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Run Forest, Run
My roommate is naughty and he does not know it. In our house, one of us is in charge of doing things like running, swimming, sweating and completing triathlons. That person can tell you the difference between the two bicycles in the garage and what "goo" is for. The other one of us, is in charge of doing things like blogging, monitoring the actions & outfits of the desperate Atlanta housewives and holding the sofa down every evening. That person can tell you which celebutant just had a baby named after a bird and how to link your Twitter to your Facebook. Those of you who know me (or who just read this blog), know which one is me…
If you know me at all, you know two other things about me as well. In no particular order, I’m a girly girl and I’m a flirt. I like nice looking things (animate or inanimate lol)…and I like them even more, when they're not a lot of money (the inanimate ones, I mean ;). So naturally, you can understand my distress when I came to discover today that there is a race every year in San Francisco (home of the roommate’s girlfriend, too, btw) where participants receive a real live Tiffany necklace! Um, yeah – I said Tiffany. Oh, and it gets better. The necklace? It’s put on you by firefighters, dressed out in their uniforms.
Are you serious?! How did my roommate not see the complete urgency in telling me this?! I will run until the earth curves, if it means Tiffany jewelry and a hot firefighter at the end. I am crushed that my roommate does not love me enough to inform me of the highlights of his responsibilities. I make a point to clarify for him that on CSI: Miami, everybody calls Horatio “H” for short. See, one of us cares that the other stays updated on the pertinent details of our respective responsibilities…
So, it looks like I’m running a half marathon next year. There are three reasons for making this happen. The first (and most important) being, of course my dear friend, “Tiffany”. The second reason, is the suggestion alone of a hot firefighter touching me. And the third reason is just practical: I have a year to get ready. I could technically do this.
When the roommate came home from what was surely a vigorous session of running/swimming/sweating, I had to share with him (from my position holding down the sofa) my utter disappointment in his failure to inform me. Before I even shared the Tiffany sized nugget of knowledge I gained from not him today, he knew what I was going to say. He beat me to “Tiffany” and then he said, “…and do you know who gives it to you?” Of course I know, roommate. No thanks to you. But I was forced to forgive him when he offered (or more accurately “said jokingly”, but I’m choosing to hear “offered”) to run the race for me – thereby allowing me to show up at the finish line, hair done, make-up on to be presented with my necklace. That works for me. Good roommate, very good roommate! :-D
Love y'all!
~M~
If you know me at all, you know two other things about me as well. In no particular order, I’m a girly girl and I’m a flirt. I like nice looking things (animate or inanimate lol)…and I like them even more, when they're not a lot of money (the inanimate ones, I mean ;). So naturally, you can understand my distress when I came to discover today that there is a race every year in San Francisco (home of the roommate’s girlfriend, too, btw) where participants receive a real live Tiffany necklace! Um, yeah – I said Tiffany. Oh, and it gets better. The necklace? It’s put on you by firefighters, dressed out in their uniforms.
Are you serious?! How did my roommate not see the complete urgency in telling me this?! I will run until the earth curves, if it means Tiffany jewelry and a hot firefighter at the end. I am crushed that my roommate does not love me enough to inform me of the highlights of his responsibilities. I make a point to clarify for him that on CSI: Miami, everybody calls Horatio “H” for short. See, one of us cares that the other stays updated on the pertinent details of our respective responsibilities…
So, it looks like I’m running a half marathon next year. There are three reasons for making this happen. The first (and most important) being, of course my dear friend, “Tiffany”. The second reason, is the suggestion alone of a hot firefighter touching me. And the third reason is just practical: I have a year to get ready. I could technically do this. When the roommate came home from what was surely a vigorous session of running/swimming/sweating, I had to share with him (from my position holding down the sofa) my utter disappointment in his failure to inform me. Before I even shared the Tiffany sized nugget of knowledge I gained from not him today, he knew what I was going to say. He beat me to “Tiffany” and then he said, “…and do you know who gives it to you?” Of course I know, roommate. No thanks to you. But I was forced to forgive him when he offered (or more accurately “said jokingly”, but I’m choosing to hear “offered”) to run the race for me – thereby allowing me to show up at the finish line, hair done, make-up on to be presented with my necklace. That works for me. Good roommate, very good roommate! :-D
Love y'all!
~M~
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Yoga for the Soul
I arrived in Santa Barbara June 1st and by September 7th I rededicated my life to Christ. When I got here, I had no idea rededicating was something I should even consider. But thinking, reading, praying over those three months helped me see that my move to DC (and how I had been living since) was completely independent of God. I don’t know - maybe it was “we” when I left home, but by the time I got to DC it was “me”…and then I got scared and it became more “me” everyday. Before I knew it, I was treating God the way you do a signature for a UPS delivery: sign here, get your package, good-bye. Or in my case: God, sign here so I can get what I want/need…thanks and see you next time.
When I moved to California from DC, I told people that my time here would be like yoga for my soul. The previous two years kicked my butt so I was more than ready to just relax and rejuvenate. But God, apparently, had other ideas. Sitting standby at the SeaTac airport I gave the wheel back to God…and has He been cleaning house since! My time here is turning out to be yoga, all right – but not the warm, fuzzy, Zen kind that I imagined. No, it’s something more like Downward Dog so I can’t see straight ahead. Plank pose for an indefinite length of time. Or no, better yet – it’s Bikram yoga! Hot, hard…and curiously addictive…
There are so many things being uncovered in my life – I feel like a rubbernecker at the scene of my very own accident. God is rooting around in my heart and in my life while I squeal and squirm and sometimes shriek “Wait, noooo!!” But I’m trying – I’m trying – to more often say “Ok, God, take that too. What else is in there that shouldn’t be…?”
It’s hard – I’m still struggling and there is a lot that I don’t understand yet. But I’m trusting. Because I remember how good life is, when I do that. And because I’m curious. I’m curious what life will be again, as “we” instead of “me”.
Love y'all,
~M~
When I moved to California from DC, I told people that my time here would be like yoga for my soul. The previous two years kicked my butt so I was more than ready to just relax and rejuvenate. But God, apparently, had other ideas. Sitting standby at the SeaTac airport I gave the wheel back to God…and has He been cleaning house since! My time here is turning out to be yoga, all right – but not the warm, fuzzy, Zen kind that I imagined. No, it’s something more like Downward Dog so I can’t see straight ahead. Plank pose for an indefinite length of time. Or no, better yet – it’s Bikram yoga! Hot, hard…and curiously addictive…
There are so many things being uncovered in my life – I feel like a rubbernecker at the scene of my very own accident. God is rooting around in my heart and in my life while I squeal and squirm and sometimes shriek “Wait, noooo!!” But I’m trying – I’m trying – to more often say “Ok, God, take that too. What else is in there that shouldn’t be…?”
It’s hard – I’m still struggling and there is a lot that I don’t understand yet. But I’m trusting. Because I remember how good life is, when I do that. And because I’m curious. I’m curious what life will be again, as “we” instead of “me”.
Love y'all,
~M~
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Smiles will Return
Wow, it’s been a really long time. So much has happened this year…I think about blogging all the time. I have so much to say, but I don’t know where to start! I’m tempted to (and probably will) just pick up from here rather than from where I left off when I ended my blog in DC. The details will fill themselves in, over time.
So…I guess I’m back. I think that’s all I have to say this time – just a heads’ up to be ready for fabulousness, lol…and enjoy.
~M~
So…I guess I’m back. I think that’s all I have to say this time – just a heads’ up to be ready for fabulousness, lol…and enjoy.
"Count your blessings. Once you realize how valuable you are and how much you have going for you, the smiles will return, the sun will break out, the music will play, and you will finally be able to move forward the life that God intended for you with grace, strength, courage, and confidence." Og MandinoLove y'all,
~M~
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