pursued

I've prayed a specific prayer regularly since I was about 19: Be real to me. God has never once failed to answer that prayer. And he always answers it quickly. 

I was blessed last week to spend a week in the wilderness with God. Cut off from the trappings and distractions of every day life, I pressed in with 15 other women who were on the same Quest as I: the quest to seek God, and know Him intimately. It was amazing. A.MAY.ZING.

Early in the week, I was tasked with spending the day outdoors with God. We were fasting from both food and  from speaking, and the purpose was to be quiet and still and hear God's voice. At one point in the day, I was to take a hike across this expansive Texas ranch land and look for God in His beautiful creation. I'd already spent the morning on the bank of a river at the edge of the Hill Country and West Texas, and I'd been battling some pretty ugly business internally. I wasn't in a good place spiritually. Reluctantly, I uttered that familiar prayer - be real to me - then headed up from the river to high ground. At the top of the bluff, I was met on the road by a small dog: short legs, stocky build, beagle face. I'm not a dog person, and his presence on the road annoyed me, so I ignored him and kept walking. The dog whimpered, and I thought, "Shoot. I've hurts its feelings." But I walked on. Soon, he was in front of me, underfoot. I literally couldn't walk without tripping over this dumb dog. I had no choice but to bend down and scratch his ears, hoping that this would be enough and he'd leave me the heck alone.

I continued to walk, and the dog continued to accompany me. I decided to test the dog, so I stopped. He stopped with me. I walked faster, and he did too. I broke into a run, and he kept my pace. I wandered off the trail, and he climbed over cacti and through briars to stay with me. I slid down a muddy slope while trying to cross a stream, and he followed me.

Exhausted, I spotted a huge boulder and decided to stop and rest. I threw my pack down on the rock, along with the camp chair I'd been hauling and the blanket I'd used to keep warm all morning. Then I sat down on the boulder. The dog paced around at my feet, whimpering. He kept standing on his back legs, eager to jump up beside me, but my stuff was in his way.

Make room for me, He said.

So I did. I tossed my gear aside and up He came, tail wagging. He climbed up in my lap and put His wet paws on my chest. I loved on that dog for 10 minutes. Then He jumped down and began chasing gnats and rolling around in the grass. I lingered for a very long time. When I thought our visit was over, I continued on my walk.

But it wasn't over. The dog stayed beside me. Sometimes He trotted ahead a few yards, but He always stopped and watched while I caught up. Mostly, He walked beside me. We went on like this for a couple of hours.

My next task was to find a place to take a nap. Finally, I spotted a patch of sunlit grass, free of rocks and horse manure, nestled in the clearing of a mesquite grove. I threw down my blanket and lay down. I knew the dog would continue on His way. Again, I was wrong. He lay down beside my face and kissed me. All over my face - wet, sloppy dog kisses. Normally, this would disgust me, but I relished it. I laughed my head off as He licked and licked. I couldn't get away from His kisses! I took pictures of us, and every time I snapped, He licked. Then He nestled up against me and slept. I slept, too.

I was resistant.
I asked Him to be real to me.
He pursued me.
He pursued me, even after I blew him off.
He was relentless.
God in a dog.
Amazing love!

(It is not lost on me that d-o-g is God spelled backward. More on that to come!)

gray matter

My Ian has always had such a soft heart.

When he gets in trouble, when he knows he deserves it, he takes his punishment with a hard swallow and sometimes a quiet tear. Mostly, it hurts his heart to know he's disappointed me and his dad. On the flip side, if he thinks he doesn't deserve it, or thinks the punishment is unfair, and especially if another just-as-guilty party is getting off scott free, he comes unraveled and fights tooth and nail for justice. The kid's right-and-wrong meter is fine-tuned. It's hard for him to see gray matter in his black-or-white world.

He knows that no matter what, I won't stand for lying. If I can count on Ian for anything, it's to tell me the truth. Aidan, not so much. I have to wonder about his honesty sometimes. But Ian... never. He knows how much it hurts me, to be lied to, and for that reason, he just won't allow himself to go there.

He loves his friends. He wants nothing more in this world than to have friends and to spend time hanging out doing Ian-and-friends types of things, which includes Legos, computer gaming, kickball, football, drawing cartoons, and lots and lots of giggling. Oh - and birthday parties. That boy loves a good party.

Which is why it bothered him to learn that one of his friends had a birthday party this summer and didn't invite him.

Ian asked his friend about it, and his friend said, "Well, see, I only invited two people." That made Ian feel better, though he was still sad to have been left out. But he accepted it and moved on. THEN he learned the truth, as other friends began talking about the party. There had been more than two. Ian had definitely been left out, and he was crushed.

When I got home from work today, he came straight to me, looked me in the eye, and said, "Mom. I had to knock Gregory off my friend list today." Then his eyes brimmed up and he looked down at his feet, trying not to give in to the tears.

"What on earth?" I asked. "Why?"

"Because he lied to me," he said softly. Then he told me all about the birthday party.

He understands that Gregory was trying to spare his feelings, but it doesn't matter. He was lied to, and he hates that feeling.

I also feel bad for Gregory, though. He was trying to soften the blow, and honestly, I think the poor kid was in a hard place himself. See, his Mom wanted us to invite Gregory over all of last school year. She dropped hints that she wanted a play date, but we never offered. It's not because we didn't want to. We're just so... and it makes me cringe to admit this... so busy. I hate that it's true. I don't want to be one of "those" families. But here we are. And it's not even the family... it's ME. It's my work schedule. I give too much of myself to it. I don't know how NOT to. I feel burdened by the responsibility I have there, and the lack of anyone else to do what needs to be done. I'm not alone - this is the dilemma of every single person who gives their life to working for a small nonprofit. But I have to find balance. I really believe that Ian was left off the birthday invitation list because we never invited Gregory over last year.

Even so... Ian could've handled the truth.

It's the lie that hurt him so. He understands why he wasn't invited. That part is black and white. It's the gray matter - the lie - that he's struggling with.

My heart hurts for him.
And I hate that in some roundabout way, it all comes back to me.

day 19: a song from your favorite album

Whoops. Life got busy again, as it always tends to do. I wish I could get a grip on that.

Tonight, I was listening to music, as I often do late at night. There was a time when I'd listen to the radio almost exclusively. Then there was a time when I listened to my collection of vinyl, tapes, CDs. These days, it almost always happens like this: I decide (for whatever random reason) that I want to hear a specific song, or perhaps a specific artist, so I head to YouTube. From there, I just follow the trail of whatever pops up next in the queue. Tonight, I can't remember now what made me want to hear Clapton, but something triggered him in my mind, and I've been losing myself in his guitar riffs ever since. I never tire of him. He can turn a two-and-a-half minute song into a 7-minute work of pure, incredible art, and not lose me in the middle of it. Amazing.

So along the way, I decided to listen to my all-time favorite album of his (via YouTube, of course, because it meant I didn't have to go digging through my CDs. Click click, VOILA, instant music.) The album? Unplugged. I remember when it came out. Back in the day, we didn't have cable. We had a rabbit ears antenna with foil wrapped around it and a wire coat hanger sticking out the top of that, but even all that effort couldn't get us MTV. (Remember when MTV actually cared about music?) So we missed the Unplugged series when it was on TV, but somehow managed to discover it - specifically Clapton's show - on CD later. I think I read a review in the paper or something. Anyway.

Listening to it made me think of this blog and how I'd neglected to ever finish the challenge, so I looked it up to see where I'd left off. Serendipity! The next challenge on the list was this one! It's a no-brainer - tonight, anyway. Tonight, my favorite album is Eric Clapton's Unplugged. Favorite song from the album is harder. I've always loved the blues-y covers, especially "Before You Accuse Me". Darren loves "San Francisco Bay Blues". I could've sworn there was a song on this album about walking on snow or somesuch, but clearly my memory has faded. It's not here.

But for the purpose of this blog, I'm gonna list this one as my favorite on the album, knowing full well that I might pick another one in half an hour:


...UPDATE...
Solved the mystery of the snow song! It was on an album called "Unplugged Collection, Vol 1", which included Clapton's "Before You Accuse Me", and also "Barefoot", by KD Lang. I guess I associated that song with Clapton because of the other one. I am getting old. I haven't listened to it in years until tonight. Still like it.

day 18: a song that makes you laugh

I hate mornings.

Hate is a strong word, so let me clarify.

I hate mornings.

It doesn't matter when I go to bed: 8 pm or 4 am... that 7:00 alarm goes off too soon. Darren is laughing his head off right now, because I NEVER get up with the 7:00 alarm. Here's my confession: during the school year, he gets up first and wakes the kids, then gets their breakfast. Usually he's up way earlier than that for his morning run. Freak of nature, he is.

Once the boys are chowing down on Cap'n Crunch, he heads back upstairs and reminds me that it's morning time. I sometimes hear him, I sometimes don't. Check that. I always hear him, I rarely care. Most of the time, I can't bring myself to move or even open an eyelid. Mornings make me want to say bad words and hurl insults at fluffy kittens and stomp on freshly bloomed tulips. I lie there for a solid 10 minutes before I can will myself to snarl and kick the sheet off. During that ten minutes, I'm concocting amazingly creative excuses for why I can't get out of bed today. Sometimes, I come so close to using crazy excuses (I'm sorry, I can't come in to work because a rogue raccoon broke into my house last night and destroyed everything we own and ate my cat and stole all my Christopher Radko...) that when crazy things DO happen - and they do happen - I wonder if people will believe me. I fantasize about sleeping another 10 minutes.

By now, Darren's had his shower and is gently shaking my shoulder with the end of a broomstick, careful not to get too close to Sleeping Beauty lest she wakes up as The Incredible Hulk and rips his arms out of his sockets. I open an eye, but only a slit. I scowl. I burrow my frows. I swim through the fog until the red numbers on the clock come into focus, then I growl at them for it. I plant my feet on the hardwood, stab my right eye with the left earpiece of my glasses, then stumble half-baked-from-sleep to the bathroom where I again growl at Darren for good measure. He says something along the lines of, "Good morning, sleepyhead." In turn, I tell him to choke on his toothbrush.

I don't speak. I don't smile. I go through the motions until everyone's out the door. My children are cautious around me, and leave a wide berth. I usually drive, but I drive like an old lady. Sometimes, Darren says, "Are you sleep driving again? 'Cause the speed limit's thirty on this street, and you're going... 12."

By the time I've been awake for an hour or so, I return to human form, and I'm Happy Me for the rest of the day. GO GO GO GO GO GO GO! Until that alarm goes off the next morning. And then....

This song is hysterical. The first time I heard it, I was in the car and I cracked up laughing, out loud, all by myself. It was written for ME, y'all. Every single morning, I don't feel like doing anything. Nothing at all. I came home later and YouTubed it, and the video is hilarious. Those monkey suits crack me right up. At least tonight, they do. Tomorrow morning, I'm likely to tell them to .... well, you get the idea.

day 17 - a song when you're sad

I don't often feel sad. I can't remember the last time I cried.

Wait. I cry often, but at the silliest things. Case in point: I was watching Chopped on The Food Network the other day, and the freaky looking chef with the huge red plugs in his ears really, realllllllly wanted to win, and when he did, I had to wipe away a tear I was so happy for him. Seriously, the whole show had been grossing me out (they had to use eel and duck hearts and other narsty ingredients), and the chef himself made me curl my lip (those long, hanging earlobes kept flapping in the breeze as he chopped and stirred and whipped and sauteed), but that dude needed the $10,000 for his poor stay-at-home-wife and kid. I don't know, it got to me.

So this challenge is to write about a song that I listen to when I'm sad. I happened to be listening to Coldplay when I looked up the challenge. Every now and then, there'll be a nuance or a lyric or even a drumbeat that reminds me of U2. And when that happens, I at once feel disdain for Coldplay (who can never be U2) and affection for Chris Martin, whose musicianship really is astounding. I love his falsetto voice. It's haunting, yet can be playful, too. It's hard to tell when he switches registers - it just seems so effortless. Coldplay is easy to listen to. There's not a song of theirs that I dislike, but at the same time, none of their songs really stand out to me as all-time favorites, either. Their sound is just pleasant. Pleasant isn't bad - the world needs more pleasant, in my opinion.

Recently, I became obsessed with the song Fix You. It's an oldie, but was resurrected on NBC's latest singing show "The Voice". I was mesmerized. A few days later, Dani showed me a dance interpretation of the song, and I cried. Seriously, it was so beautifully interpreted that I had to wipe fat, hot tears from my face. Clicky to watch it for yourself. I'm not a dancer, but I would imagine that this is pretty close to technical perfection - and WOW, what a beautiful, beautiful love song. Coldplay's sound on this song is like velvet around my shoulders, or warm sand on my toes, or a shaft of sunlight caressing my face on a cold, winter day.

But that's not the Coldplay song that I'm highlighting for this challenge. A song that makes me sad when I hear it is The Scientist. I've never understood why it's called that, but what a sad song. Still pleasant enough to the ears, but... gollygeewhiz sad. It's a song of regret, and what-could-have-been, and deep yearning to go "back to the start". How many of us have felt that at one point or another? And yet, as sad and broken as the lyrics are on their own, they're given new meaning when you watch the video, which I had never seen until tonight. Watch it. You'll keep wondering what the heck it all means, but at the end, you'll be left with your mouth gaping open and with big, fat tears dripping off your chin.

day 16 - a song with clever lyrics

Today's challenge was supposed to be "a song you used to like and now you hate". Meh. Whatever. I asked Darren to give me a new one, and he said, "A song with clever lyrics".

Immediately, I clapped my hands and said, "I know which one!!"... and turned to my keyboard to start typing.

He replied, with a snark in his voice, "... that alliterative one?"

"Yes. How'd you know?" I asked.

"I know you," he replied.

He thinks it's a dumb song that makes no sense. Maybe it is. I still love it.

But because of his immediate correct guess, i thought I'd so some soul-searching. What other lyrics do I think are clever?

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking.
Racing around to come up behind you again.
- - - Pink Floyd, "Time"

People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share,
and no one dares disturb the Sound of Silence.
- - - Simon & Garfunkel, "Sounds of Silence"


I think that every Rush song ever recorded has amazingly clever lyrics, but I'm choosing this one because I love the rhyme scheme:

And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones to start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the Heart

The Blacksmith and the Artist
Reflect it in their art
Forge their creativity
Closer to the Heart

Philosophers and Ploughmen
Each must know his part
To sow a new mentality
Closer to the Heart

You can be the Captain
I will draw the Chart
Sailing into destiny
Closer to the Heart
- - - Rush, "Closer to the Heart"

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
- - - Green Day, "Good Riddance"

This one just cracks me up:

I love you like a fat kid loves cake
- - - 50 Cent, "21 Questions"

------------------
Ok, it's been 3 hours and I've listened to U2, Sting, Neil Young, the Eagles, Randy Newman, Coldplay, Led Zeppelin (who, by the way, sang about Lord of the Rings and I never noticed it until this weekend on our road trip when Darren noticed it. Check out the lyrics to "Ramble On": T'was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair. But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her, her, her....yeah....)

I could be up all night searching for the song with the most clever lyrics. But instead, seeing as how I have to be at work in 7 hours, I'll just stick with the one that popped in to my head in the first place. :)

day 15 - a song that describes you

I decided a long, long time ago that life is what you make it.

I was a shy kid. (No, really, I was!) In fact, in second grade, I was so enamored of my teacher and so shy that I was HORRIFIED at the thought of asking her for permission to go to the restroom. So instead, I sat at my little desk and wet my pants. Not once, but twice. After the second time, my Mom made me hang a green plaid double-knit homemade one-piece zippered-up jumpsuit in my locker, and I knew that if I wet myself again, I'd have to change into that horrid outfit. I don't know if she knew how much I hated it, but the fact that I can describe it in detail and still feel the wedgie it gave me speaks for itself. So does the fact that I decided I'd rather approach the front of the room and speak to Mrs. Wright than wear it.

In 7th grade, I was still shy, and utterly miserable. There were a million kids I didn't know, and I was too shy to do anything about it. I was a wallflower the whole year long, and was disgusted at myself for it. That summer, I decided it was now or never: I needed a reinvention. On the first day of 8th grade, I came out of my shell, complete with surround sound and strobe lights and a bullhorn. I would be SHY NO MORE. I realized almost immediately that life was grand when you actually had the courage to LIVE it. I never looked back.

In college, I was the queen of figuring out how to have fun on the cheap. Everything was reason to celebrate, God was worthy of all my praise, and life was just FUN. I couldn't afford anything I wanted - or even needed, for that matter - but it was okay. Just living on my own was enough. I applied a million times for credit at the electronics store near the video store where I worked. I NEEDED a stereo system. With all my heart, I wanted one. I applied every few months, and was denied each time. (Ding ding ding on my credit report. I had no idea I was making it worse!) But even with that minor heartbreak each time, I was okay. I'd just try again! It's not having what you want...It's wanting what you've got.

As an eternal optimist, I've always given people the benefit of the doubt. I always think people can change, even after proving me wrong 12 times in a row. Some of my deepest heartache has come from believing and hoping in that. Finally, sometime in the last decade, I learned that it wasn't my responsibility to make miserable people happy, or to save people who wanted to flounder, or to join the cast of people who needed their lives to be Lifetime dramas. I allowed myself to let go. That part was easy; getting over the guilt of letting go was a lot harder. Every time I turn around I'm looking up, you're looking down...Maybe something's wrong with you That makes you act the way you do

I'm not saying I never have bad days. Word To The Mommas, I do. In fact, I'm coming off a pretty nasty streak of funk right now. But for the most part, my mantra is to soak up the sun. Sometimes I have to give myself a swift kick in the pants and tell myself to lighten up, but...

"I've got no one to blame. For every time I feel lame I'm looking up..."