Apologies, dear readers...

I have been reading my recent posts, and frankly some of them are awful, whinning drivel. Oh why won't people come to my party? Perhaps becasue I ask so hesitantly. And yet, this last time I had a house full. They weren't all the people I thought would come, but so what? It was a wonderful blend of people all of whom were great fun and very special.

Plus, we've started a regular game night. It's mid-week due to a friend's work schedule, so that is self-limiting. It limits how late we play and how many people we are likely to invite because of work the next day.

We have been invited to Thanksgiving and New Year's with friends two years running, and spent new years morning with another group of friends who have a regular breakfast followed by broom ball on a frozen lake nearby.

I sat and watched, because I didn't want to mess up a test I am doing to see how wheat/gluten affect me, but I wish I had played. It looked like so much fun and I want to PARTICIPATE, not sit on the sidelines.

So...I'm thinking, maybe we should invite a bunch of people over for some kind of weird outdoor game. Maybe badmitton or crouquet.

New Year, New Start?

In our household, there are divergent views on the celebration of the new year. For my husband New Year's is "just another day." In some ways I would agree with him, but I lean toward the view that celebrations of many kinds are good for us humans struggling through the vagaries of life on this earth. A person who cannot make an excuse to celebrate goes through life with a dismal view of things. Gray days meld into gray weeks, months and years. I believe that celebrations make all of our sorrows and troubles easier. It reminds us to treasure those we love, to make note of special times, creates good memories and reminds us that bad times don't last forever. Perhaps we should celebrate each Tuesday, merely because it is Tuesday, meaning that we have made it through another Monday!

Plus I love new beginnings. What optimism there is in turning a new page, starting a new book, putting up a new calendar with all the possibilities the blank pages have for you. Celebrating New Year's is an optimistic way to say that we may have lost everything last year, but this new year holds endless possibilities.

For me, the new year is exactly that. New everything. New job, hopefully. It provides the hopeful expectancy of finishing one or more of my books. It provides the expectancy of opportunities for service.

Plus, I celebrate that Dad has made it through another year. That wasn't expected. However, I am changing my expectations in that regard. Although I remain realistic about the possibility of a heart attack, barring that, I think he's got a lot of time left. What is sad is that he lives such a purposeless existence which is really difficult for him.

When I come to this blog at the end of 2009 I plan to rejoice that I have finished at least 2 of my books, and am in the middle of more.

Also, I am hopeful that 2009 will see the release of the final book in the Song of Fire and Ice series by George R.R. Martin. Some complain about his timetable, but I enjoy the anticipation as much as I enjoy the fulfillment of it. Plus, how can he possibly top this series? Will anything he writes be as satisfying as this?

Also, I am hopeful that there will be something new from Cornelia Funke, Margaret Ball, and so many others.

I am hopeful that the new year may provide answers for the pain that has plagued me for the last 17 1/2 years. Otherwise, I wonder whether I will wind up on disability. I have fought that for so long and tried so hard to hide my physical difficulties. I would so hate to give in to it or to have this defeat me now.

On another up note: I ran into my friend John Malloy a few days ago. It was so wonderful to see this dear brother. I introduced him to my friend Evelyn and to my husband and had a brief chance to talk to him and to tell them what he meant to me during a sometimes very difficult period in my life. Let me close with a quotation from him, but first let me tell you the story. John is a Fedex delivery guy and we had grown friendly over time as he delivered packages to me. Upon first seeing my collection of rotation verses and hearing what music I might be playing, he realized that we were of the same religious persuasion and we would talk now and again as he ran in and out. Sometimes I would give him a verse that was really speaking to me, sometimes he would do the same. I would occasionally run into him outside the office and I shared with him the struggle I was having over leaving my church and needing to go elsewhere. Anyway at some point during this time, John walked in with his package and without any 'hello' or other pleasantry simply said:

I've been thinking. We are warriors and this is a battlefield. We are not meant for rest and comfort at this time

Then he left.

John, I've thought of that so often ever since. There are times that I am ready to give up because I think I need rest or comfort, but I've decided that you are right.

We are warriors and this is a battlefield. We are not meant for rest and comfort at this time

It never works out like I thought it would...

You know that picture you get in your head about what it will be like when you...

Buy a car. I have two scenarious in my head. The first I never seem to recognize until it doesn't happen. I expect to walk into a car dealership and turn the corner when...oh, my...the perfect car is sitting there at the perfect price. No one has been looking at this little, low mileage baby because it is painted that incredible shade of purple (or yellow or green) that I had my heart set on. The second is that car dealerships are in the business of ripping me off. In fact, I'm fairly certain that after hours, car salesmen and their managers laugh their heads off about how they suckered me into buying a perfectly awful vehicle. "She didn't even notice that the engine block is cracked!" or "I wonder how long it will be before she loses the chewing gum I sealed the radiator with."

Somewhere in between is the truth. In between the good and bad, between the dealerships that ignore you when you are purchasing a lower priced vehicle and the one's without a decent car in my price range, "would you like a little rust with that car, ma'am?" are the places with reasonable deals shown by salesmen who understand that they aren't necessarily making the deal of a lifetime on this purchase, but are possibly making the start of a potentially long-term relationship with people who will likely purchase other cars in their lifetime and may know other people who will buy vehicles as well.

They don't pretend that something is what it isn't, nor do I pretend that I am some super-important client whose purchase will set their sales goal for the month. It is human beings dealing with human beings.

I am not indecisive, what I am is unprepared to buy something I don't want. There are red flags that pop up in the back of my mind that sometimes take me a half hour or so to figure out what they are about, but my biggest problem is that I feel like I am being rude or taking up someone's time unnecessarily if they don't have what I want. I feel for salespeople. It is a difficult way to make a living. Sure, it can be a fairly well-paying proposition, but it is also a risky one.

I had in my head that I would buy a Jeep. Or a Toyota or a Honda. I bought a GMC Yukon in all it's glory. Big enough for a comfortable road trip with the dogs, big enough to haul things needed for the house, or to haul things to the Goodwill, big enough to haul a load of firewood, and comfortable enough for me with my arthritis and other issues. This is a wonderful vehicle.

What shall we give?

I frequently find myself a bit depressed this time of year. Despite my best efforts I find my expectations for the season of joy and delight are above and beyond what my life actually produces. I hear about the busyness of the season and I think, what busyness? I do not have this social calendar brimming with dinners and parties which I must choose from. I do not puzzle over my wardrobe wondering if I can get one more wearing from that festive skirt before people begin to comment.

I love the idea of all of that, but I lead a fairly quiet, boring day-to-day existence. And now, I am being asked what I am going to give up this season, or what I am going to change. I honestly don't know. I struggle to give what I do now, and I am fairly good at not over-spending.

I am struggling, however, with the nature of God. This is not the deep struggle I have had in the past, more like a struggle against the discomfort of knowing that I do not understand and that my expectations of God are being tried. I have a friend whose baby is not forming properly in the womb and because of that is unlikely to be able to live outside the womb for even a breath. I cannot bear their sorrow. I cannot stand knowing their pain. I am wounded for them more deeply than I can even express and I am asking God, why? Why does one person's struggle to find work threaten their adoption? Why does one young friend struggle with a brain tumor? Why have I been struggling with physical pain for 17 years? Why does there seem to be no relief? Why does one friend struggle with a drug-addicted husband? Why are there starving people? Why is there evil? Why do we get old and some of us have such intense physical struggles and intense pain? Why is this young couple facing such a painful time as they know what they are expecting and must wait to see their baby die?

A young man I know told me that he has been reading through the old testament as I suggested and wondered, Doesn't God seem awfully bloodthirsty? I heard the hesitation in his voice as he asked the question. It is a question I know well. I've wondered many times, and gone round and round with the mystery of who is God? Who is this God of love and of vengeance? Who is this friend of sinners?

So that is my question, God. Who are you? Can you be known? What about this suffering? What about your unchanging nature that pardons and exacts vengeance? And...if you don't cause all of our sufferings, but you are in a position to prevent them, why do you withhold your goodness from us at times?

I ask these questions even as I am thinking on the meaning of the incarnation. I am thinking on the wonder that God became flesh and dwelt among us, making himself the sacrifice that sin required.

Whining

Since I was little I wanted to have the home that invited people. I wanted to have the party house, you know. I wanted to have a house full of people. Do you remember "Grandma's Feather Bed"? John Denver sang it years ago and that was what I wanted. I wanted a house filled with cousins and aunts and uncles, friends, brothers and sisters and people whose relationships are of the hard to trace kind. Are they a third cousin once removed or a fourth cousin? Is that Uncle Jason's third wife's son from a previous marriage or is that Danny, Aunt Ethel's son by Uncle Daniel who died in the war?

I don't know quite why, but I am too boring or sedate of something, not at all the person I wanted to be, because when I invite people over they rarely come. My kids back out of holidays, and even my parent's bail. That's pretty bad when your own parent's bail on you.

So...I have decided that perhaps I don't have true friends. Perhaps I do not have people that will show up. We don't get invited to join people very often and no one wants to join us. I don't know why.

That's not true. I do know why. We aren't fun. Well, that's going to change. I've spent too many years being overwhelmed by life circumstances. Too many years just this side of depressed. It's too easy for me to slip into that.

I thought my kids would want to come home to be with us no matter what we were doing. Oh well. Not true. Okay.

What's all this about a beaver?

I was talking to a good friend at lunch yesterday about the different ways we do things. She laughed when I told her I carefully measure my pictures, include the length to the hanger and then carefully and precisely hang them, ensuring the same amount of distance between them, but only after looking at them for several weeks laid out on the floor in front of the wall they are going on, changing the order until I am certain it is exactly as I want it. I told her that it drives me nuts when people move things after I have carefully arranged them (I didn't mention how it bothers me when other people hang things in my home without the same attention to detail.)

She said I am a beaver. Well I looked it up online and many of those characteristics apply to me, but many of the lion characteristics do too. I am decisive and stubborn, but I also like things very precise. I will have a picture in my mind of what I want and nothing else will do. I line up pictures with a level and measuring tape so that they are evenly spaced and level, looking at them sometimes for weeks prior to hanging them.

Apparently that type level of perfectionism (which does not advance to the level of OCD or mean that I actually complete things with any predefined level of perfectionism, but the attempt and drive to do so is what makes one a beaver.

Perhaps she simply meant my body type.

There's Something About Mary...

I have a friend who I will call Mary. Mary's life is a series of mostly good stories. Good times. Noodle salad. Her children have fairly good strong marriages, her grandchildren all seem to be doing well and are embracing the faith of their fathers, walking after God in a great way. Family comes for the holidays and they have grand celebrations with 15-20 family members cooking, talking, laughing, playing games and having a great time. I love her life. It reminds me of the Shire, before the Ringwraiths come. They work hard, save their money, spend time with friends and family, and are happy people. At a certain point, they retire and live a somewhat comfortable existence. All is as it should be.

Then there's folks like me. An uneventful, unremarkable life is not what I live. I can look back to certain choices that have added to the turmoil, but many things have been out of my control. The flood was out of my control. Often family members make decisions that affect you in ways you could not imagine. There are the calls, "My car was stolen." "About your son..." So many, many things that I had no control over, and things I did not instigate. "We decided to cancel your contract." So many things.

My friend calls me if we haven't seen each other for over a week just to find out what's new. In her life what's new is that she finished a blanket for the mission, she canned a carton of peaches, she had this family or that over for dinner, she cleaned out the garden beds, shampooed the carpet, etc. I love that about her. I love the normalcy of it all. I love that when I call they are out "trimming the bushes" and soon there will be neatly cut bundles of branches from the shrubs, tied neatly with twine. They attend ballgames of their grandkids, entertain others in their home, visit family and friends. They are terrific.

When she calls me the conversation goes something like this: "Did I tell you Steve came home?" "No, you didn't." "He just showed up early last Saturday morning. He got laid off and so he grabbed his stuff and drove all night." "How wonderful to have him here, but he doesn't have a job?" "He's supposed to have started one yesterday, but the plans aren't ready, so it will probably be next week. But, they did finally hook up the stove and we started on the dining room walls, finally." "Oh my. So much goes on in your life." Then I go on to tell her the rest of the story.

See the thing is, I know she does not long for the craziness of my life, but she loves me in the middle of it and wants to hear what's happening. Sometimes she may think that she is boring, but I don't see it that way at all. She works so hard to maintain a good home and to prepare good nourishing food and making the budget stretch so that their retirement allows them to enjoy some of the things they like to do. She is a wonderful hostess, in part because her life runs a bit like clockwork. Her home is peaceful and inviting.

Welcome to my home...or rather, I should say welcome to my construction zone. There is always something undone. Some project in some stage less than complete, and usually involving a mess. It drives me up a tree. In the middle of that craziness, I enjoy the respite of being in her home, in that peaceful spot in the middle of the Shire with good Shirefolk.