I can't even begin to tell you how confused I am.
I imagined this step to be so much easier.
I thought I would be sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
I thought you would make it easier.
I didn't plan for it to be this hard.
You know how I think, how I feel, how I am.
You know that I leap before thinking.
You know that I don't have to be sure.
You know this because you made me like this.
Why then can't I do it now?
I think I saw you today.
Or was it just my imagination.
Have I just wanted it too much, for too long?
Am I making today more than what it was?
I don't want to be wrong about this.
I cant be wrong again.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Journal Entry August 23rd
Last Sunday was the first session of our new Fireproof study with our Sunday School class. It is a really cool group of people and we are looking forward to growing so much through it. The first question that we were asked last week was to share how we met our spouse and what first attracted us to them. This is what I wrote about that night....
Sunday, August 23rd
What did I notice first? Wow, it is hard to even remember back that far.
The first thing that comes to mind was his shoes.
Funny huh? Really, his shoes?
I thought that I recognized him and then I saw that he was wearing Samba's.
When I saw he had on soccer shoes I knew it was the same guy.
But there was more than that, more than shoes.
At 16 most guys are the same, and that needs no further explanation.
He wasn't that.
He wasn't that at all.
There was no macho, no bravado, no forced attempt at cool.
But there was swagger.
I guess that is what I really fell for at first.
Swagger. That sounds so gangster.
I don't even know what else to call it.
Confidence. Self Esteem. Self Assurance.
None of those sound as good as swagger.
It wasn't long after I fell for his attitude, that I fell in love with his heart.
He is in many ways the opposite of me.
I am loud. I think out loud.
I am emotional. I show my emotions even when I try to hide them.
I am impulsive. I act first and regret later.
I am dramatic. Ouch, I can't believe I just said that. I am dramatic.
He is reserve.
He protects his emotions and shares them with those that he trusts.
He thinks first. And second, and third, and eventually he acts. Maybe.
He is not drama. Not at all.
I am difficult to love, I have no doubt about that.
I can be incredibly frustrating.
There are times when I am so unhappy, that it seems impossible for him to even know where to start to make me feel better.
But he does.
I don't know how or even why sometimes, but he does.
Sunday, August 23rd
What did I notice first? Wow, it is hard to even remember back that far.
The first thing that comes to mind was his shoes.
Funny huh? Really, his shoes?
I thought that I recognized him and then I saw that he was wearing Samba's.
When I saw he had on soccer shoes I knew it was the same guy.
But there was more than that, more than shoes.
At 16 most guys are the same, and that needs no further explanation.
He wasn't that.
He wasn't that at all.
There was no macho, no bravado, no forced attempt at cool.
But there was swagger.
I guess that is what I really fell for at first.
Swagger. That sounds so gangster.
I don't even know what else to call it.
Confidence. Self Esteem. Self Assurance.
None of those sound as good as swagger.
It wasn't long after I fell for his attitude, that I fell in love with his heart.
He is in many ways the opposite of me.
I am loud. I think out loud.
I am emotional. I show my emotions even when I try to hide them.
I am impulsive. I act first and regret later.
I am dramatic. Ouch, I can't believe I just said that. I am dramatic.
He is reserve.
He protects his emotions and shares them with those that he trusts.
He thinks first. And second, and third, and eventually he acts. Maybe.
He is not drama. Not at all.
I am difficult to love, I have no doubt about that.
I can be incredibly frustrating.
There are times when I am so unhappy, that it seems impossible for him to even know where to start to make me feel better.
But he does.
I don't know how or even why sometimes, but he does.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
1, 275......
I posted my 1,275Th tweet today. I ain't braggin, it is what it is,
There are a few ways to look at it. You can pick one or make up your own.
One is that I have way too much time on my hands and some might argue the need for a full time vocation.
Another possibility is that I just have a lot to say. Stuff that is useless, random, vague, odd, hateful, confusing.....you get the point.
The third possibility is probably closer to the truth. Therapy. Less sweaty then tanning, way cheaper then shopping. You would be surprised the release that 140 characters can bring.
Hey, you got your thing, I got mine.
There are a few ways to look at it. You can pick one or make up your own.
One is that I have way too much time on my hands and some might argue the need for a full time vocation.
Another possibility is that I just have a lot to say. Stuff that is useless, random, vague, odd, hateful, confusing.....you get the point.
The third possibility is probably closer to the truth. Therapy. Less sweaty then tanning, way cheaper then shopping. You would be surprised the release that 140 characters can bring.
Hey, you got your thing, I got mine.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
You Called Me What?
Today was just strange. The truth is that I really didn't want to go to church today. I didn't want to go, but I didn't have the guts to not go.
I have been struggling with some things for the last several weeks, and I knew that I wasn't anywhere near strong enough to do this today.
Who knew that a sermon series called The Wrestler would have to be so literal. I have been wrestling with God, if that is what you can even call it. To be honest, it feels more like MMA than tumbling around on the mat. Punching, kicking, grappling. Ugly at times, but necessary. Today was no different.
In my wrestling with God, I have been demanding some things. Things that probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else. Things that I had to see and hear and feel in order to tap out, to submit. I have told him the list, shouted it at him, whispered it while he had me pinned to the ground.
I think he answered me today. But I think he called me Leah.
I have been struggling with some things for the last several weeks, and I knew that I wasn't anywhere near strong enough to do this today.
Who knew that a sermon series called The Wrestler would have to be so literal. I have been wrestling with God, if that is what you can even call it. To be honest, it feels more like MMA than tumbling around on the mat. Punching, kicking, grappling. Ugly at times, but necessary. Today was no different.
In my wrestling with God, I have been demanding some things. Things that probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else. Things that I had to see and hear and feel in order to tap out, to submit. I have told him the list, shouted it at him, whispered it while he had me pinned to the ground.
I think he answered me today. But I think he called me Leah.
Friday, August 21, 2009
In the middle..
Today there are many people that I care so much for that are on top of the world.
They have experience miracles in their lives.
They have fought battles and won.
They have seen their dreams and wishes come true.
They have planned and struggled and waited.
For so many of them their waiting has ended.
They are in that place, different for each person, but yet the same.
In college...in love...pregnant...healthy...home...gone...free...taken..
I have been there with many of them, watched them dream and struggle.
I have held their hands, assured them it would be OK..even when I wasn't sure it would be.
For them, my joy and happiness is genuine. It isn't forced or fake.
They are on top of the world, I just wish I could stand there with them.
For others in my life, today they are at their lowest.
In 20 minutes a family that I know will say goodbye for the last time to their mom who died on Monday after battling cancer for three years. A little eight year old girl that will stand there, her 12 year old brother and older sisters will try to make her understand something that defies explanation.
Others are sick. Their physical body is failing them. They have wished and hoped and prayed for healing. It has not come.
Others are heart broken, they have trusted people and been let down. There are people in their lives who have taken things from them that can't be returned. They have watched their families be destroyed by the other woman. They feel like it will never be better, the pain will never get better. I want to tell them that it will, but sometimes I am not convinced myself.
They are in that place, different for each person, but still the same.
Sick...lonely...hurt...heart broken...tired...ashamed...guilty...addicted...
Today, they are at their lowest. My concern and care for them is real. My desire for them to rise up, to find peace, is genuine. I want to be there for them, and yet I never want to be to the point where I stand next to them.
Two total extremes, the best and the worst.
I guess what I am struggling with the most right now is how to exist in the middle.
They have experience miracles in their lives.
They have fought battles and won.
They have seen their dreams and wishes come true.
They have planned and struggled and waited.
For so many of them their waiting has ended.
They are in that place, different for each person, but yet the same.
In college...in love...pregnant...healthy...home...gone...free...taken..
I have been there with many of them, watched them dream and struggle.
I have held their hands, assured them it would be OK..even when I wasn't sure it would be.
For them, my joy and happiness is genuine. It isn't forced or fake.
They are on top of the world, I just wish I could stand there with them.
For others in my life, today they are at their lowest.
In 20 minutes a family that I know will say goodbye for the last time to their mom who died on Monday after battling cancer for three years. A little eight year old girl that will stand there, her 12 year old brother and older sisters will try to make her understand something that defies explanation.
Others are sick. Their physical body is failing them. They have wished and hoped and prayed for healing. It has not come.
Others are heart broken, they have trusted people and been let down. There are people in their lives who have taken things from them that can't be returned. They have watched their families be destroyed by the other woman. They feel like it will never be better, the pain will never get better. I want to tell them that it will, but sometimes I am not convinced myself.
They are in that place, different for each person, but still the same.
Sick...lonely...hurt...heart broken...tired...ashamed...guilty...addicted...
Today, they are at their lowest. My concern and care for them is real. My desire for them to rise up, to find peace, is genuine. I want to be there for them, and yet I never want to be to the point where I stand next to them.
Two total extremes, the best and the worst.
I guess what I am struggling with the most right now is how to exist in the middle.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Room 22
I am so thankful for the difference that a few hours can make. I am not sure if it was time, the nap or the conversation and support from friends that made the difference. The truth is that it was a probably a combination of all of them and then some.
Nine hours ago I thought the world was coming to an end. Nine hours ago the worst possible scenario in my mind had just played out. I walked out of Isaak's new school feeling like I had been punched in the stomach. Full time special education was the last thing that I was prepared for. I was prepared for some resource room time, I wasn't prepared for 61%. I was looking forward to him having some extra help, I was not expecting a full time aid when he was at lunch and recess. I wasn't expecting them to say he could only ride the special needs bus, I wasn't expecting formal IEP's and scheduling for systematic observations. I was shocked and overwhelmed.
Nine hours ago it was all about me.
Now it is about room 22.
Imagine a place where everything feels right, it feels safe and secure, welcoming and warm. It is like a little oasis in the middle of the structure and norms of the rest of the school. Room 22 isn't a place for kids that are special, but you feel special because you are in it. The teacher there is this tall, strong, handsome man that kinda looks like Clark Kent, he even has the glasses. He is real. There is no other way to describe him. Genuine.
The desks in room 22 are different. The chairs at the desks are different. They have big red rubber pillow looking things on them to help with sensory issues. The layout is different. Room 22 has it's own bathroom. It has it's own couch and sink and even it's own soundproof time out room. The ceiling and tops of the cabinets are lined with model airplanes.
There are 6 students ranging from 1st to 5Th grade in room 22. There are 6 kids, one teacher and 7 resource aids. Room 22 is well staffed to say the least, but it is staffed with the kind of people that you would hand pick if you were going to be spending time there.
The motto in room 22 is "all together". In room 22, anything can be accomplished when they do it "all together". After spending only a few minutes in room 22, you have no choice but to believe that to be true.
In room 22, there is no time to consider how many rooms away the other 2ND graders are. It isn't about any of that. Most of all, it isn't about me.
Nine hours ago I hated the idea of it. Right now I am encouraged by it, on the verge of being in love with it.
Nine hours ago I thought the world was coming to an end. Nine hours ago the worst possible scenario in my mind had just played out. I walked out of Isaak's new school feeling like I had been punched in the stomach. Full time special education was the last thing that I was prepared for. I was prepared for some resource room time, I wasn't prepared for 61%. I was looking forward to him having some extra help, I was not expecting a full time aid when he was at lunch and recess. I wasn't expecting them to say he could only ride the special needs bus, I wasn't expecting formal IEP's and scheduling for systematic observations. I was shocked and overwhelmed.
Nine hours ago it was all about me.
Now it is about room 22.
Imagine a place where everything feels right, it feels safe and secure, welcoming and warm. It is like a little oasis in the middle of the structure and norms of the rest of the school. Room 22 isn't a place for kids that are special, but you feel special because you are in it. The teacher there is this tall, strong, handsome man that kinda looks like Clark Kent, he even has the glasses. He is real. There is no other way to describe him. Genuine.
The desks in room 22 are different. The chairs at the desks are different. They have big red rubber pillow looking things on them to help with sensory issues. The layout is different. Room 22 has it's own bathroom. It has it's own couch and sink and even it's own soundproof time out room. The ceiling and tops of the cabinets are lined with model airplanes.
There are 6 students ranging from 1st to 5Th grade in room 22. There are 6 kids, one teacher and 7 resource aids. Room 22 is well staffed to say the least, but it is staffed with the kind of people that you would hand pick if you were going to be spending time there.
The motto in room 22 is "all together". In room 22, anything can be accomplished when they do it "all together". After spending only a few minutes in room 22, you have no choice but to believe that to be true.
In room 22, there is no time to consider how many rooms away the other 2ND graders are. It isn't about any of that. Most of all, it isn't about me.
Nine hours ago I hated the idea of it. Right now I am encouraged by it, on the verge of being in love with it.
August 13, 2009
Trying really hard right now to prepare myself for what is ahead today. I am meeting with the GLASS and special education department at Isaak's new school in about an hour. We are going to decide if he is able to be in a main stream class and if so, if he will require a full time aid. It is strange to try to prepare myself for something that I really thought would never come. How do you just be in a moment that you would give anything not to be in? I need help right now to make sense of it all. It is gonna be a long day.
And so my prayer today is that I can step out of the emotion of it, step out of how bad it hurts and just be present in the reality of it. God, help me to listen, to really listen to these people that you have placed in our lives for a reason. Most of all, when I want to give up today, when I need to revert to where I find comfort, don' let me.
And so my prayer today is that I can step out of the emotion of it, step out of how bad it hurts and just be present in the reality of it. God, help me to listen, to really listen to these people that you have placed in our lives for a reason. Most of all, when I want to give up today, when I need to revert to where I find comfort, don' let me.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Is There Another Way To Look At It?
I use Imagination Prompt Generator when I am having trouble getting started writing. There are times when the prompts are silly and seem to make no sense. There are other times when I know that they are not a coincidence. Today was one of those days....
August 12, 2009
Is there another way to look at it?
The most honest answer I have is....God, I hope so.
More than just hoping.
Dreaming...wishing..demanding.
There has to be another way to look at it.
Another way to see this life.
If there isn't, I don't want to know.
Please don't tell me that I am wrong.
Lie to me if you have to, but I have to believe that there is.
That this way is not only different, but infinitely better.
Many days the view of it from here is ugly.
It's dark and the shapes are so skewed that it is hard to make them out.
Unrecognizable. Incomprehensible.
Don't tell me this is the only way.
I'm afraid if you do, I might start to believe you.
Instead tell me, no, show me the other way to see it.
Grab my face if you need to, get my attention, make me see the other way.
Tell me..show me.. over and over and over again.
When I forget, remind me. Scream if you have to.
Make me listen and make me see it.
Please don't let me miss it.
Don't let me get so caught up in looking for it that I can't see it.
Don't let me stare at it for so long that my eyes become accustomed to the dark.
So used to the dark that that my eyes can't bare to see light.
Keep me from being too tired to continue looking.
Too jaded, too bitter, too bruised.
Is there another way to look at it?
I know there is.
What I long for is that it is more then just another.
Not another failed attempt, another program, another phase.
Not just another person, not feelings..or words..or things..
More than just another way to look at it.
Assure me there is only one other way to look at it.
Please let me see it.
Let me not only see it, but believe it.
Not only believe it to be possible, but see it.
Let me see that there is one other way to look at it.
Let me see that way in the reflection in the mirror.
August 12, 2009
Is there another way to look at it?
The most honest answer I have is....God, I hope so.
More than just hoping.
Dreaming...wishing..demanding.
There has to be another way to look at it.
Another way to see this life.
If there isn't, I don't want to know.
Please don't tell me that I am wrong.
Lie to me if you have to, but I have to believe that there is.
That this way is not only different, but infinitely better.
Many days the view of it from here is ugly.
It's dark and the shapes are so skewed that it is hard to make them out.
Unrecognizable. Incomprehensible.
Don't tell me this is the only way.
I'm afraid if you do, I might start to believe you.
Instead tell me, no, show me the other way to see it.
Grab my face if you need to, get my attention, make me see the other way.
Tell me..show me.. over and over and over again.
When I forget, remind me. Scream if you have to.
Make me listen and make me see it.
Please don't let me miss it.
Don't let me get so caught up in looking for it that I can't see it.
Don't let me stare at it for so long that my eyes become accustomed to the dark.
So used to the dark that that my eyes can't bare to see light.
Keep me from being too tired to continue looking.
Too jaded, too bitter, too bruised.
Is there another way to look at it?
I know there is.
What I long for is that it is more then just another.
Not another failed attempt, another program, another phase.
Not just another person, not feelings..or words..or things..
More than just another way to look at it.
Assure me there is only one other way to look at it.
Please let me see it.
Let me not only see it, but believe it.
Not only believe it to be possible, but see it.
Let me see that there is one other way to look at it.
Let me see that way in the reflection in the mirror.
Monday, August 10, 2009
One of those days....
It has just been one of those days, and it is not even noon yet. Luke just got out of a time out for giving his brother a black eye. When he was done apologizing to Isaak, he had to pray and ask for forgiveness from God. Here is what he said....
"Dear Jesus, thank you for all this food (we were not eating), please make me to not punch Ikey in the face anymore or to call him stupid or dumb. Please make Mommy stop being mean at me and to make her to stop yelling at me like Optimus Prime. I am sorry for hitting Ikey with his lizard, please make Ikey go back to summer camp so I can stop fighting him and so that I dont make him dead. Please be with my Daddy so that he wont break his face anymore and thank you for my "Piderman" poster and make it not scare me at night time and thank you for Santa and make him to bring me that race car thing. Thank you for getting me Cheetos at town and that I can go to Monkey Joes with my whole family and I can punch Isaak in that jumping thing......Mommy, what was I supposed to say ? Maybe I "tan" just start over....Dear Jesus..."
"Dear Jesus, thank you for all this food (we were not eating), please make me to not punch Ikey in the face anymore or to call him stupid or dumb. Please make Mommy stop being mean at me and to make her to stop yelling at me like Optimus Prime. I am sorry for hitting Ikey with his lizard, please make Ikey go back to summer camp so I can stop fighting him and so that I dont make him dead. Please be with my Daddy so that he wont break his face anymore and thank you for my "Piderman" poster and make it not scare me at night time and thank you for Santa and make him to bring me that race car thing. Thank you for getting me Cheetos at town and that I can go to Monkey Joes with my whole family and I can punch Isaak in that jumping thing......Mommy, what was I supposed to say ? Maybe I "tan" just start over....Dear Jesus..."
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