More Painful Philosophy

Hey Everyone!

I've been slacking a bit on blogging, haven't I?

My reasons (excuses) are extensive and varied but it all comes down to this:

I've been trying to hibernate.

I don't know about you, but I consider myself a pretty strong and resilient person.

At least that's what I tell myself.

I can handle crisis and conflict, financial and even physical downturns.
I understand trials and realize they're (hopefully) temporary.

But once the real pain-physical, emotional or spiritual-hits I tend to take a tumble.
So here's where I expound eloquently about my concept of pain and the fact that I know God is still in control of my life:

It. Stinks.

Pain, that is.

But here's the thing:

I don't have to like it. I think anyone who isn't honest about their feelings about painful experiences is disrespecting the experience.

Lately several folks who hold a special place in my heart have been going through some terrible times.

Not unfortunate times or difficult times, but really gut-wrenching-I-may-not-live-through-this-or-even-want-to times.

And despite the fact I'm not personally experiencing this horror, in a big way I am.
And it hurts even second-hand.

So here's where my truthiness comes in:

It's awful and I'm hurting and I'm irritated and exhausted.

But all is not lost.

My reaction to pain is real but so is my response to the experience.
If I'm to learn something from it PLEASE let me learn it well.
Don't allow me to recoil from relationships lest I risk my own injury as I help others deal with theirs.
As a believer in Christ, it's phony to act all put-together when inside I'm falling apart.
So pain is real. My dear ones' experiences are real.

But God is Real-er.

Humor isn't for Sissies

Humor can be a tricky thing. What one person thinks is side-splitting hilarious the other person will think is dumb.

Tastes differ, that's for sure. I'm often dumbfounded by the glee dear hubby expresses when telling me a terrific joke he heard at work.

Long after the joke has been told I'm still waiting for the punchline.

For years I thought Don's taste in jokes was juvenile; he'll outgrow it and become 'sophisticated' like me, I've told myself.

I'm still waiting.

Then I discover that most men are the same way: men will tell tall tales and stories and jokes about body functions and mothers-in-law.

Women tell jokes about men.

Is there a type of fraternity these guys all belong to? Is that why they love 'The Three Stooges?'Is that why watching someone fall off a roof or get beaned by a baseball bat is rip-roaring good fun?

Why can't they be more like us girls? We enjoy true stories about what funny comment little Joey made while saying his nightly prayers. Puppy and kitty tales (tails?) are always welcome. And we would NEVER stoop so low as to laugh at the misfortune of someone else (ahem.)

We actually take it personally when our fella's joke flops.

What, doesn't he have any intelligence at all? What kind of person does he think I am that he thought I'd like that joke?

It reminds me that God must have a sense of humor; especially when we get all riled up about what WE think is right and wrong or what is appropriate.

Or funny.

I'm amused by my common belief that the world is meant to accommodate me and my opinions. Differences aren't simply unwelcome- they're downright WRONG!

I must concede that God has given us our individuality. If I criticize someone's taste in music or movies or humor I'm insulting the One Who put it there.

I'm saying that what they think or feel isn't valid yet I fight for my own right to think and feel (and laugh) the way I want to.

So funny is relative (and my relatives ARE funny...whacka whacka whacka).
The trick is to relax, smile a little, shake your head in disbelief and look at your unfunny loved ones in awe. Rejoice that at least YOUR jokes are brilliant, well thought out and skillfully delivered.

I hope to encourage dear hubby in his joke telling. Some day maybe he'll stand at a podium somewhere to deliver an important speech, beginning with a joke that will be repeated eagerly for many years to come.

Now THAT'S funny!

Why I Blog

It was initially a tough sell to get me to blog.

While I enjoy reading what other people write, the topics usually underwhelm me (Reading about how drunk someone got the night before or the descriptions of irritating relatives gets old).

Following the blogosphere I find myself wondering how someone can focus so many words and so much energy on...table settings. The merits of Grey's Anatomy. Whether flash frozen peas are as nutritious as fresh peas. Whether the major storms so far experienced in 2011 in the U.S. are due to global warming.

The topic possibilities are endless, as are the opinions expressed by anyone or everyone who possesses a computer and isn't afraid to use it.

It's intimidating to think my few comments could make an impression in the vastness of information available to us. Often I'm overwhelmed by the responsibility I've taken on to join the fray and express my own quirky perspective on life.

But I think it's necessary to go where the people are. I could be stubborn and do my little workshops and seminars and speak individually to anyone I can outrun.

But there are a lot of us who don't really know what we're looking for until we stumble upon it late at night. When it's quiet and we can't sleep. When we finally have time to listen to our own thoughts. So many times I've heard people say they were surfing the net and my blog caught their attention.

And it spoke to them, providing something that came at the right time.

It's intimidating to realize that people I don't know and may never get the chance to meet read my articles. They pass them along to friends and family.

It's cool, really.

I share the thoughts and experiences that teach me something. I figure if it meant something to me it could mean something to you, too.

I sure hope so.

So in the meantime, spread the word about this blog. The goofy stuff that happens to me I freely share with you. If nothing else, it might show you that weird stuff happens to all of us. Okay, maybe to ME more often but I'm still optimistic.

It's what we do with it and how we move on that makes our lives unique.

And that's why I blog.

Living a Balanced Life

We live in a life of extremes.

Extreme sports, extreme homes, extreme food.

There's a new TV show called "Extreme Couponing." I watched several episodes. While I admired the participants amazing results it saddened me. I wish these people would spend those coupon clipping hours on a few more relationally important things. I mean, how much free deodorant can one person or family use?

It seems as if we're expected to live our lives in an all or nothing attitude.
Push, strive, succeed.
All work no play.
All play no work.

No wonder most of us live on autopilot as we frantically attempt to please someone or no one. It's too much (or too little?).

I believe that most of us rush off headlong into one of these pursuits despite our friends, family and church telling us to cool it and chill out.

Somehow it doesn't seem right to be just...satisfied. We're supposed to want more.
Do more.

Be more.

Yet the opposite is true; we're not supposed to hyperfocus on only one aspect of living. True health and vitality is composed of variety in our lives that result in balance.

Balance of rest, work, play, relationships, fun, sunshine, God, giving and receiving. Leave any component out and we're at risk of spinning out of whack.
Keep it up and we'll eventually WHACK into something.

It's hard work to rest, be content and concentrate on the right priorities. But trying to recover from imbalance is even harder.

I challenge you to invest time in people, places, and things.

TV provides all sports channels, all shopping channels, all cooking channels but
ultimately, we control the remote.

The same is true for real life.

Balance includes and involves involvement; it lets people in and lets you get off the hamster wheel of over-achievement.

If you're going to strive, strive on making your life as healthy as possible. None of this extreme stuff is ultimately going to have meaning.

After all, when your life is over, you can't take all those coupons with you.

His Eye is on the Sparrow

A new family has taken residence at my residence.

A bird family.

Don't ask me what kind of bird; it has wings. And a beak.

And a nest firmly built in the eaves of my front porch.

Now this bird family is very interesting to me. I've watched this bird househunt a few weeks ago. Obviously she(?) wasn't happy with pre-existing homes so she decided to build one herself.

It's quite stylish, if I say so myself.
At least it's in a great neighborhood.

I've admired the focus with which this bird has gathered her materials and firmly attached them to this very narrow expanse of wood nailed overhead. I doubt there was much that could have deterred her from her task.

Now it seems as if the 'significant other' bird has arrived. Again, I'm not bird savvy so I don't know the common behaviors of this particular species of bird.

But I have noticed that they view us as an irritant; anything that disrupts their apparent plans for this nest ticks them off royally. They are not nonverbal birds.

While my human self sits on the front porch enjoying the weather, these chirpy critters make it clear I am simply not to have my way. I'm to surrender my own perch in favor of them having theirs.

They aren't aware of the actions I've taken to assure their safety; the chairs I've moved so our cats can't climb them to get at the nest or the different path we try to take so they aren't disturbed.

During a storm I've kept my eye on them but they don't know they have a protector.
I've watched for predators and been ready to shoo any danger away.I've been thinking about them quite a bit. For some reason it's important to me that they survive and thrive.

I've taken the role of protector and these scrawny bird-legged birds don't even know it.

No matter.

I'll continue my vigilance as long as this clan resides here. My nest is their nest.

So...
I go back to my own life and the similarities between these bird-brains and my own bird-brain.
How likely it is that the Head of the home I've chosen to dwell in watches over me.
How He moves some things out of my path so I'm protected. He keeps a vigilant eye on my comings and goings. He probably enjoys hearing my chirps too.

He's thrilled I've chosen to abide in his abode.

So...
Perhaps the next time I'm so focused on building and planning for the future I'll think of this birdie brood. I also have a Protector who is watching over me with care and delight.

I need to be more respectful of what God does in my life. I must learn to accept that my Protector watches over me, keeping me from some harm I might never see.

Hopefully I'll keep my scolding squawks to myself.

Stuff and Nonsense

It seems to me that most of us are either getting new stuff or getting rid of old stuff. But it's all stuff, after all.

Early in my marriage, I spent lots of mental energy wishing I had and trying to get.

Now that I'm older I find I'm clearing out and giving away.

Don't get me wrong- I like stuff. I like looking at it and I like using it.

But after while it seems as if all the stuff I've ever worked for and acquired over the years is, truly, only stuff.

Last week my dear daughter Kari decided to have a garage sale. So many of us say we don't have anything to sell or don't have the time to sort through the stuff we have in order to get rid of it.

Such was not the case here. We eagerly dug through and enthusiastically donated item after item for the sale.
It surprised me to realize how few possessions were really sentimental or useful to the family. Yet most items were acquired a piece at a time, if not deliberately, then purposely welcomed into our home.

Looking at this stuff spread out on tables for the garage sale, I realized that none of those things held any meaning for us.
How when we decided to sell them we cut all emotional ties with them.
And they became stuff.

The sale went well; it was fun to watch each buyer leave happily with some of my former stuff. I was glad to see my stuff become their new prize.

But it challenged me to be mindful of the next stuff I bring into the house.
Or into my mind.
Or into my heart.

It's vital we keep perspective on what we find valuable.
And what is just stuff.

Power of the Will

One thing you've probably noticed if you've been following my blog is that I enjoy laughing at myself.

I laugh at you, too, but you don't know that.

Anyway, what I think is really funny is how many excuses/reasons I have for explaining my actions. Depending on my own viewpoint I can reason away (aka excuse)anything.

If I want to do something I'll find a reason (It's the RIGHT thing to do, I want to show my support, etc.).

If I don't want to do it I'll find a reason (I don't 'feel led,' I'm overbooked, I'd be in the way...).

But today is a great example of overcoming true obstacles (I might have broken my toe yesterday falling over something- is 'puffy purple' a medical term?)

Earlier today Don and I found ourselves excitedly riding our bikes together on the Katy Trail. Against 20+ mph winds. Me with a severely bruised toe.

I found a way and managed to overcome real roadblocks. (Don didn't: apparently while I wasn't looking he turned his wheels wrong, took a ditch, and fell headlong over his handlebars. I saw him climbing back onto his bike after his tumble but was unfazed since he tends to fall down a lot).

So...

My will managed to ignore physical pain so I could do what I wanted to do. My stubbornness said those real obstacles weren't big enough to stop me.

My will pushed my thoughts beyond what I thought I could do; I actually forgot for a while that I had aches, pains, and pressing responsibilities.

My thoughts focused outward rather than inward.

So while I nurse my aches and pains (and Don's embarrassment)I'm energized by the ability God has given me to use the power of my will to enjoy life.

But boy, will I ever remember my limitations when I try to get out of bed tomorrow.

Especially if I don't WANT to get up.