This morning, I did something I don't normally do. I hit my snooze button. Three times. Now, I didn't say I've never hit the snooze button, it's just something that I don't normally do. Normally the alarm goes off, I groan and turn it off, and then sleepily get out of bed. Usually with a longing look back at the warm bed I just left. But not today. Today, I allowed myself the luxury of three, count 'em three snoozes. And really that's all they are. I'm not really sleeping at that point, just dozing. It's funny, though, when I am in that state of half waking, half dreaming doziness, I seem to have the most clarity of thought. Maybe because there is nothing to clutter the process as there is in waking moments; maybe because in dreams your mind communicates with symbolism. Whatever the case may be, I had what might be called an epiphany. As I dropped back down in the the second "snooze" the thought occurred to me that I have been hitting the snooze button on my life or at least areas of my life. For years. Over the last 20 years I have wondered if I could write a novel. Last month I quit hitting the snooze button and gave it a go. Result? I have nearly 40,000 words (and counting) of a novel and I am going to finish it, whether it ever sees the light of day or not. That is my goal.
Sleepily, dozily, I began to think of other areas in my life where I am hitting the "snooze button" and I realize there are more areas than I am comfortable with. Here are a few that came to mind:
My weight. I have been hitting this button off and on for most of my adult life. Up until the last few years, my weight wasn't too bad. In the last few years, however, I have gained so much weight that some days I'm surprised I don't explode (Think Monty Python's Meaning of Life, the restaurant scene). I don't mean that I eat to excess, but I don't choose the right things to eat. I know what I should be eating and choose the wrong things anyway. I just keep slapping that old snooze button.
My home. I hate cleaning house. I would rather do anything than clean house. Clean house or a root canal? It's a toss up, folks. The problem is, there are people I would like to have over after church on Sabbath. Friends I would like to spend a Sunday afternoon watching Harry Potter movies with. Or even just spending an evening sitting around chatting and catching up over a hot cup of tea. I just keep slapping that old snooze button.
My spirituality. I love God. I really do. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm just a fan. You know. Rah Rah, Sisboomba! Go, God! Sometimes I think my faith, my spirituality is only skin deep. I want it to be deeper, but I'm not sure what that entails. Do I have to give up FaceBook? Big Fish Games? Harry Potter? Does it mean I need to spend more time in prayer? But I have so much to do! I need to loose weight; I need to clean my house. SLAP! I hit the old snooze button once again.
I have to start now because tomorrow never comes. Remember Scarlett O'Hara? "I won't think about that now. I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day." Only when she was faced with the loss of the love of her life did she recognize the fact that she couldn't put it off until tomorrow. She had to figure out today what she would put into action to win back the love of Rhett.
Now, I must do the same thing. Figure out today the actions I'm going to take to resolve the snooze button abuse of my life.
What are you hitting the snooze button on?
May God bless you and give you clarity during your dozy moments.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Divine Lunacy Breaths a Sigh of Relief
About a month ago, I got an e-mail from an old flame. I was a bit discombobulated by the e-mail. I really didn't think I would ever hear from him again. For those of you that read "FRACTURED FAIRY TALE...A story of heartbreak, loss..." you will know what I am talking about. If you haven't read it, I suggest that you do. That way, you won't get too confused. Go ahead. The rest of us will wait right here until you're done.
Ah. You're back. You've read it? Ok. Now we are all on the same page. As you may have gathered from my story, I fell in love with a young man. I was just barely 19 and he was almost 20 when we met. I have to say, the first time we were introduced, I didn't pay much attention to him. We were at a party at our youth leader's house. He had started coming to church with a work friend of his and his family. I had seen him at church, of course, but I really hadn't taken much notice of him. I was quite busy with other things like the Youth, Pathfinders, work, my girl friends; the usual things you are busy with at 19. That night at the party, he kept butting into my conversation with questions or sometimes he would just say something random. I would smile and politely answer his questions or listen to his random statement. The next morning when the Youth Leader called to ask if she could give him my phone number, I had to ask her who he was. She told me and I agreed. Next thing I know, I'm getting a call from this young man asking me out on a date.
It was probably the worst first date I have ever had in my life. Anything that could go wrong did. He took me horseback riding in the snow up on the mountains. I'm afraid of riding horses. I think they are beautiful animals, but a few bad experiences really soured me on riding them. We drove my car as his was back in his home state and I let him drive because he was the guy. Well, and because it started snowing and I had never driven in snow before. Then we slid into a ditch (with him behind the wheel of my car) and the tail pipes got bent. (His first Christmas gift to me was new tail pipes.) Then on the way back down the mountain, my windshield wipers were no match for the falling snow. In order to see, he had to stick his head out the window. He would pull his head back in every so often and I would wipe his sunglasses; then out his head would go again. I kept thinking, "This guy is never gonna ask me out again!" Oh, if only...
He was my first love. I built my world around him and then he smashed it to bits when he left. Fast forward 32 years. Out of the blue, he is standing in my Sabbath School class room after class one Sabbath. Only (and my mom really loved this), I didn't know who he was. I didn't recognize him at all. The only thing that looked familiar were his eyes, but the rest? No bells were ringing, that's for sure. When he told me who he was, you could have knocked me over with a peacock feather, to quote Tammie Jean. He and his family were passing through. I met his (then) wife and two of their three children.
Before we went out to the car, he apologized for the way he had treated me so many years before. I had already forgiven him, but it was really nice to hear him say, "I'm sorry." That meant the world to me. About a month later, I find out he is trying to get in touch via e-mail. I told the person to go ahead and give it to him. I thought he must have been telling me he was sorry because he's dying and he wanted to make amends. That really is what I thought. Turns out, he did want to tell me something, but it wasn't that he was dying. He wanted to tell me everything that was wrong in his marriage and to blame it all on his wife. And to tell me he still loved me. Yeah. I know. The crazy thing is I responded, I love you, too. I didn't know until that moment that I did still love him. But there you have it. For a little over a month we carried on a long distance affair via e-mail and phone. I even rationalized that it was ok, because of what his wife had done and that God was giving us a chance to make right what we had messed up so many years ago. His wife found out; even called and confronted me on the phone. She was quite calm about it. For the first time, the voice of reason could be heard above the voice of rationalization: "You know what he is like. His wife can't be all to blame. You know that from personal experience." As I type this I realize now how much my past thinking influenced my thought process about his wife. You see, whenever he had a bad day he always had a way of making me feel like it was my fault. I would bend over backwards to try to cheer him up or make him feel better, but to no avail. I always accepted the blame for his bad day no questions asked. It wasn't my fault, but it was. If he said the marriage was bad because of her, it must be. After the affair ended, I wrote her a letter asking for her forgiveness. I hope that she has forgiven me. I truly regret the part I played in damaging her already damaged marriage.
He did try to contact me a couple of times over the next couple of years. The first time, I had really started to get over him and his e-mail really mad me angry. He contacted me and then begged me not to tell his wife, because if she found out it would mean divorce; please "don't put this on me". I nearly blew a gasket. I wasn't putting anything on him. He contacted me! I ended up writing him a two page letter. I told him in no uncertain terms that it was over. I also told him to stop looking to the past at what might have been and to start looking at what was right in front of him. I told him to start working on making his marriage work, instead of looking for everything that was wrong in it. I heard from him twice after that and then radio silence for about eight years.
Facebook is a wonderful tool, until you are found by someone you don't want to be found by. Yep. He found me on facebook. This was a year ago, June. Against my better judgement, I accepted his friend request. He sent me an e-mail telling all about his divorce and still blaming her for all the wrongs in their marriage. Uh oh. He also told me that he just wanted friendship and someone to talk to that would listen. Problem is, I had already heard this story before...many times over. I wrote back and told him I was sorry to hear that he was getting a divorce, but if it was for the best so be it. I also told him that I, too, wanted only friendship. That I was enjoying my single life just as it is. I got an ugly tirade back, alot of it rambling. Suddenly, I'm as bad as his soon-to-be-ex, thinking only of myself, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. I wrote the aforementioned story and sent it to him in answer to his question (and I quote) "When did I 'break' your heart. LOL" Yeah...I know. Real sensitive guy. It finally came down to this. I told him that he needed to let go of the past, to let go of all the hurts from his marriage (real and imagined). I told him he needed to forgive his wife. I also told him I thought he had a lot of healing to do. I told him I could not be a part of it because I felt I was a hinderance to the healing. I was part of his past, not part of his future. He seemed to understand that it was for the best and agreed.
Recently, he connected with a mutual friend from back in the day. He talked about me quite a bit with her (her not knowing all that I have shared with you, Gentle Reader) and she innocently tells him he should contact me and tell me that he wants to be friends. (Apparently, she did get a taste of what I have been through, as he first took her friendship to be something more. She straightened him out on that.) Anywho, I contacted her after reading the e-mail to get her perspective on it. After what she told me, I realized it would be better not to respond at all. And I didn't. Each day that goes by without an e-mail from him, I breath a little easier.
I feel badly for him. I don't bear him any ill will. I only want good things for him. I pray for him and ask God to watch out for him. We are all broken in someway and some are broken more than others. I can not fix this man's brokenness. Only God can fix it. I pray that he will let God do that for him so that he will find peace and happiness.
Ah. You're back. You've read it? Ok. Now we are all on the same page. As you may have gathered from my story, I fell in love with a young man. I was just barely 19 and he was almost 20 when we met. I have to say, the first time we were introduced, I didn't pay much attention to him. We were at a party at our youth leader's house. He had started coming to church with a work friend of his and his family. I had seen him at church, of course, but I really hadn't taken much notice of him. I was quite busy with other things like the Youth, Pathfinders, work, my girl friends; the usual things you are busy with at 19. That night at the party, he kept butting into my conversation with questions or sometimes he would just say something random. I would smile and politely answer his questions or listen to his random statement. The next morning when the Youth Leader called to ask if she could give him my phone number, I had to ask her who he was. She told me and I agreed. Next thing I know, I'm getting a call from this young man asking me out on a date.
It was probably the worst first date I have ever had in my life. Anything that could go wrong did. He took me horseback riding in the snow up on the mountains. I'm afraid of riding horses. I think they are beautiful animals, but a few bad experiences really soured me on riding them. We drove my car as his was back in his home state and I let him drive because he was the guy. Well, and because it started snowing and I had never driven in snow before. Then we slid into a ditch (with him behind the wheel of my car) and the tail pipes got bent. (His first Christmas gift to me was new tail pipes.) Then on the way back down the mountain, my windshield wipers were no match for the falling snow. In order to see, he had to stick his head out the window. He would pull his head back in every so often and I would wipe his sunglasses; then out his head would go again. I kept thinking, "This guy is never gonna ask me out again!" Oh, if only...
He was my first love. I built my world around him and then he smashed it to bits when he left. Fast forward 32 years. Out of the blue, he is standing in my Sabbath School class room after class one Sabbath. Only (and my mom really loved this), I didn't know who he was. I didn't recognize him at all. The only thing that looked familiar were his eyes, but the rest? No bells were ringing, that's for sure. When he told me who he was, you could have knocked me over with a peacock feather, to quote Tammie Jean. He and his family were passing through. I met his (then) wife and two of their three children.
Before we went out to the car, he apologized for the way he had treated me so many years before. I had already forgiven him, but it was really nice to hear him say, "I'm sorry." That meant the world to me. About a month later, I find out he is trying to get in touch via e-mail. I told the person to go ahead and give it to him. I thought he must have been telling me he was sorry because he's dying and he wanted to make amends. That really is what I thought. Turns out, he did want to tell me something, but it wasn't that he was dying. He wanted to tell me everything that was wrong in his marriage and to blame it all on his wife. And to tell me he still loved me. Yeah. I know. The crazy thing is I responded, I love you, too. I didn't know until that moment that I did still love him. But there you have it. For a little over a month we carried on a long distance affair via e-mail and phone. I even rationalized that it was ok, because of what his wife had done and that God was giving us a chance to make right what we had messed up so many years ago. His wife found out; even called and confronted me on the phone. She was quite calm about it. For the first time, the voice of reason could be heard above the voice of rationalization: "You know what he is like. His wife can't be all to blame. You know that from personal experience." As I type this I realize now how much my past thinking influenced my thought process about his wife. You see, whenever he had a bad day he always had a way of making me feel like it was my fault. I would bend over backwards to try to cheer him up or make him feel better, but to no avail. I always accepted the blame for his bad day no questions asked. It wasn't my fault, but it was. If he said the marriage was bad because of her, it must be. After the affair ended, I wrote her a letter asking for her forgiveness. I hope that she has forgiven me. I truly regret the part I played in damaging her already damaged marriage.
He did try to contact me a couple of times over the next couple of years. The first time, I had really started to get over him and his e-mail really mad me angry. He contacted me and then begged me not to tell his wife, because if she found out it would mean divorce; please "don't put this on me". I nearly blew a gasket. I wasn't putting anything on him. He contacted me! I ended up writing him a two page letter. I told him in no uncertain terms that it was over. I also told him to stop looking to the past at what might have been and to start looking at what was right in front of him. I told him to start working on making his marriage work, instead of looking for everything that was wrong in it. I heard from him twice after that and then radio silence for about eight years.
Facebook is a wonderful tool, until you are found by someone you don't want to be found by. Yep. He found me on facebook. This was a year ago, June. Against my better judgement, I accepted his friend request. He sent me an e-mail telling all about his divorce and still blaming her for all the wrongs in their marriage. Uh oh. He also told me that he just wanted friendship and someone to talk to that would listen. Problem is, I had already heard this story before...many times over. I wrote back and told him I was sorry to hear that he was getting a divorce, but if it was for the best so be it. I also told him that I, too, wanted only friendship. That I was enjoying my single life just as it is. I got an ugly tirade back, alot of it rambling. Suddenly, I'm as bad as his soon-to-be-ex, thinking only of myself, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. I wrote the aforementioned story and sent it to him in answer to his question (and I quote) "When did I 'break' your heart. LOL" Yeah...I know. Real sensitive guy. It finally came down to this. I told him that he needed to let go of the past, to let go of all the hurts from his marriage (real and imagined). I told him he needed to forgive his wife. I also told him I thought he had a lot of healing to do. I told him I could not be a part of it because I felt I was a hinderance to the healing. I was part of his past, not part of his future. He seemed to understand that it was for the best and agreed.
Recently, he connected with a mutual friend from back in the day. He talked about me quite a bit with her (her not knowing all that I have shared with you, Gentle Reader) and she innocently tells him he should contact me and tell me that he wants to be friends. (Apparently, she did get a taste of what I have been through, as he first took her friendship to be something more. She straightened him out on that.) Anywho, I contacted her after reading the e-mail to get her perspective on it. After what she told me, I realized it would be better not to respond at all. And I didn't. Each day that goes by without an e-mail from him, I breath a little easier.
I feel badly for him. I don't bear him any ill will. I only want good things for him. I pray for him and ask God to watch out for him. We are all broken in someway and some are broken more than others. I can not fix this man's brokenness. Only God can fix it. I pray that he will let God do that for him so that he will find peace and happiness.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Divine Lunacy Ponders Death
It's a grim subject, I know. However, this week has been a week for it. First the news of a man beloved my many. His death shocked and saddened, to say the least. On Monday, my folks had to put down their dog of 15 years. Then today at work, I learned that a former co-worker had died due to complications from his cancer. Oh, and lest I forget, the former morning weather man for Channel 3, died after a prolonged illness of cirrhosis.
All death is hard to deal with, whether it is a car accident or a prolonged illness. Death leaves a hole in our lives where that person should be. As a Christian, I do have hope in the resurrection; I believe that on that great day, I will be reunited with my loved ones in Christ, be they blood or in His blood relatives. I don't know how people make it through if they don't have that hope.
I think the worst death to deal with is suicide. That someone would deliberately take their own life is hard to understand for those left behind. People don't understand the pain of mental or emotional illness, nor the devastation of depression and therefore cannot fathom why they didn't "gut it out" like the rest of us. Worse yet, most people think that if someone takes their own life, they have shut the doors to eternal life in heaven. I know I used to think that way. Now, I don't.
A former school mate of mine lost his step daughter to suicide. Of course, the family was devastated, as was their church family. Their pastor, Dan Appel, did his best to make sense out of this senseless tragedy. He wrote an article that is quite thought provoking and illuminating on this subject and it helped me to understand something that I should have seen all along. We don't decide who gets to go to heaven and who doesn't. God does. God sees the heart, the mind, the soul of the person and we don't see as He sees. He knows; He decides. I don't get to make that call and neither do you, Gentle Reader. God will make the decision based on what He has seen inside that person. I'm going to include the address for the site that my friend set up for his daughter, Alex, and you can find Pastor Dan's article there. I will also include the link to the article for those that just want to see it and nothing more. I hope you will look at the whole site. My friend has used this tragedy to reach out to other young people. He hopes that by doing this, someone on the edge will pull back and ask for help.
Here they are: http://alexstory.org/alexstory/Suicide_and_the_Bible_by_Dan_Appel.html
and: http://alexstory.org
I came close to ending my own life once. I was really tired. Tired of feeling empty, used up, and abandoned. I would wake up each morning and think of a reason to get out of bed. One day, I couldn't find a reason. I got up anyway. The next morning, I didn't feel any different. I went to a drugstore and found sleeping pills, making sure they didn't have ipecac in them. I got home and I sat there looking at those pills and a blank sheet of paper until it got dark. I lit a candle and still, I couldn't find the words to write that would exhonorate my family and friends. It really wasn't their fault I felt that way; I was just tired of living. It was too heavy a burden to bear. I just wanted to be free. In the end, I couldn't write a note explaining all that I felt and for my family and friends not to feel guility. I flushed the pills down the toilet and went to bed. It was a long time before things got better for me. I don't know how I hung in as long as I did before I came back to God, but I suspect He had something to do with it. I wrote a poem, that has since been turned into a song. I hope to record it someday. It's called Invitation to the Dance. These are the words:
I had grown so very weary
Listening to the noise of pain
I just wanted sweet oblivian
Just a slow soft fade
Then the invite arrived
Whispered soft, in my ear
Come to the dance,
There you'll find good cheer
It took many years for me to
Clearly hear it
This invitation spoken by
The Holy Spirit
Come on, take a chance
Step into His embrace
Don't worry if you can't dance
He has enough grace.
And when I arrived
I sat at the edge
Been wounded before
I had bets to hedge
I kept my head down
Didn't even look at the place
I knew I couldn't dance
Because, I lacked grace
Then a scarred hand appeared
I looked up and took a chance
That's when Jesus asked me
"Shall we dance?"
And now, especially when darkness threatens, I put my hands in His and I step on His feet and let Him dance me through it.
All death is hard to deal with, whether it is a car accident or a prolonged illness. Death leaves a hole in our lives where that person should be. As a Christian, I do have hope in the resurrection; I believe that on that great day, I will be reunited with my loved ones in Christ, be they blood or in His blood relatives. I don't know how people make it through if they don't have that hope.
I think the worst death to deal with is suicide. That someone would deliberately take their own life is hard to understand for those left behind. People don't understand the pain of mental or emotional illness, nor the devastation of depression and therefore cannot fathom why they didn't "gut it out" like the rest of us. Worse yet, most people think that if someone takes their own life, they have shut the doors to eternal life in heaven. I know I used to think that way. Now, I don't.
A former school mate of mine lost his step daughter to suicide. Of course, the family was devastated, as was their church family. Their pastor, Dan Appel, did his best to make sense out of this senseless tragedy. He wrote an article that is quite thought provoking and illuminating on this subject and it helped me to understand something that I should have seen all along. We don't decide who gets to go to heaven and who doesn't. God does. God sees the heart, the mind, the soul of the person and we don't see as He sees. He knows; He decides. I don't get to make that call and neither do you, Gentle Reader. God will make the decision based on what He has seen inside that person. I'm going to include the address for the site that my friend set up for his daughter, Alex, and you can find Pastor Dan's article there. I will also include the link to the article for those that just want to see it and nothing more. I hope you will look at the whole site. My friend has used this tragedy to reach out to other young people. He hopes that by doing this, someone on the edge will pull back and ask for help.
Here they are: http://alexstory.org/alexstory/Suicide_and_the_Bible_by_Dan_Appel.html
and: http://alexstory.org
I came close to ending my own life once. I was really tired. Tired of feeling empty, used up, and abandoned. I would wake up each morning and think of a reason to get out of bed. One day, I couldn't find a reason. I got up anyway. The next morning, I didn't feel any different. I went to a drugstore and found sleeping pills, making sure they didn't have ipecac in them. I got home and I sat there looking at those pills and a blank sheet of paper until it got dark. I lit a candle and still, I couldn't find the words to write that would exhonorate my family and friends. It really wasn't their fault I felt that way; I was just tired of living. It was too heavy a burden to bear. I just wanted to be free. In the end, I couldn't write a note explaining all that I felt and for my family and friends not to feel guility. I flushed the pills down the toilet and went to bed. It was a long time before things got better for me. I don't know how I hung in as long as I did before I came back to God, but I suspect He had something to do with it. I wrote a poem, that has since been turned into a song. I hope to record it someday. It's called Invitation to the Dance. These are the words:
I had grown so very weary
Listening to the noise of pain
I just wanted sweet oblivian
Just a slow soft fade
Then the invite arrived
Whispered soft, in my ear
Come to the dance,
There you'll find good cheer
It took many years for me to
Clearly hear it
This invitation spoken by
The Holy Spirit
Come on, take a chance
Step into His embrace
Don't worry if you can't dance
He has enough grace.
And when I arrived
I sat at the edge
Been wounded before
I had bets to hedge
I kept my head down
Didn't even look at the place
I knew I couldn't dance
Because, I lacked grace
Then a scarred hand appeared
I looked up and took a chance
That's when Jesus asked me
"Shall we dance?"
And now, especially when darkness threatens, I put my hands in His and I step on His feet and let Him dance me through it.
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