The best time in our life.

Wham bam shang-a-lang, and a sha-la-la-la-la-la babe.

"Will you please turn that off!" she screamed. The music was blaring and she couldn't hear herself think. The children were turning the house over and Mark was just sitting on the couch with his laptop open and the music blasting.

He didn't seem to hear her. He was too immersed in whatever he was doing. She stared at the man as he sat in obliviousness watching his screen. Time froze as she stared wondering how on earth he could be so unaware of his surroundings. How could he not care? She almost wished she could feel such apathy; to be immune to the cries of her children! Because even when she was too busy, and tired and unable to meet all of their demands, even their crazy and unnecessary demands, their cries still pierced her. Wouldn't she love to be able to zone out and not even hear their cries?

No, that was not what she wanted. She just wished that Mark could hear them too and that they would affect him the same way they did her. How could he hear his daughter sitting on the floor three feet from him wailing and not notice her?

I think a little emotion goes a long long way. But careful now don't get caught in your dreams. Look out baby this is not what it seems.

"Mark? Mark, can you hear me?"

"Wha? Yeah, jes a sec, Beth," he muttered.

"Unbelievable!" she said striding across the room and picking up the three year old before Jamey threw another block in her direction. "Jamey, stop that! And go get your shoes on! Addie, are you dressed yet?" she called down the hall.

There was no answer, but that didn't surprise her one bit.

"Bea, go check on your sister, will you?"

"She'll never let me in!" Bea said, not looking up from her book. "She doesn't even answer when I knock on the door."

"Bea, just go!"

Beatrice slammed her book shut and stormed down the hall. Beth could hear the distance shouts of her daughters as they yelled at each other through the doorway, but she couldn't deal with that now. Jamey hadn't moved from his pile of blocks and the baby was now crying.

"Jamey! I said get your shoes on! Mark! Can you get the baby? She's crying again!"

Well I thought we agreed on what we need. So listen to me I'll tell you what we've got. We've got a wham, bam shang-a-lang...

Mark was still staring at his computer. Beth dropped the 3 year old on his lap and left to get the baby from their room. When she returned, the 3 year old was on the floor and Jamey was trying to fend her off.

"Stop! Stop!" he cried. "Mom! Get Kate to stop touching my tower!"

"Jamey, I told you to get your shoes on. You can't be building a tower right now anyway!"

"Make her stop!" he screamed.

Beth looked at her husband on the couch surrounded by all the chaos and wondered again how he could withstand such noise without intervening.

Rather than shouting for his attention again she dropped down on the couch next to him with the infant in her arms and looked at him. "Mark?" she said. "I could use some help!"

He seemed to pop out of his reverie as he looked away from the screen and to his wife beside him.

"Hey," he said. "What's up?" Beth let out a snort of laughter and frustration.

"Mark, honey. We gotta go! None of the kids are ready and we're gonna be late!"

"There are more important things than punctuality," he told her.

"Like your computer?" she said, unable to withhold the snark.

"Sometimes," he replied, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

He stood up, setting his laptop aside and pulling his wife and youngest child into an embrace and began to dance with her.

"I'm not really in the mood," she said, but he saw the smile growing behind her furrowed brow. "We gotta get going!"

He smiled as he spun her about and looked at their children fighting on the floor as he sang along with the lyrics: "We'll remember the best time in our life!"

Stop Running

Worrying, worrying, worrying! A friend brought this passage to my attention a few weeks ago and it hasn't left my head: "They that hate you shall have dominion over you; and you shall flee when none pursues you." Leviticus 26:17

"They that hate you shall have dominion over you." He pointed out that this is like handing over the keys of your house to someone who hates you and saying, "Here are all the things I care about. Have at it!"

When we fret and worry, we invite evil into our lives. We invite all these bad thoughts in, and turn over our emotional state to someone who hates us.

"I feel awful. Come in, come in! Make me feel worse! Wreck my entire house!"

Do you remember when you were a child and you felt like the world was ending, and then your mom gave you a snack and you felt better? Like instantly? Or maybe you've forgotten, but observed a baby screaming and then food is presented and immediately they're fine.

As a parent you can watch and see that the world is ending for your child. You know that dinner will be ready in ten minutes and your child will be fine. But they can't see that. They can't see that in a matter of minutes whatever they think is horribly wrong with the world won't even matter as soon as they get some food in them. As a parent it's probably pretty easy to dismiss the meltdown.

But if we put ourselves in the place of the child, and the Lord in the place of the parent. Does He ever dismiss out meltdowns? I doubt it. I bet He cares, even if He can see that we'll be fine in a week/month/year/5 years.

A parent can foresee that their child will be fine once they've eaten, slept, or even just obeyed. In the same way, but with infinitely more love and patience, He is looking down at us knowing we'll be okay. It will work out so much better if we obey His Word, obey His loving commandments!

He can foresee that this anxiety I'm having will pass. He can see that this is a minor thing compared to eternity. I can see that too. When I stop to look at my life, I can see that wondering if anyone has ordered gray paint is not that important. And that perspective can remind me not to worry. But the Lord also doesn't want us to feel bad for feeling bad.

Back to the small child tantruming about supper not being ready. Imagine if the child could reflect on its actions. Given enough rationality and thought, maybe the child could reflect and realize that freaking out isn't going to help, in fact it might even delay dinner if mom is distracted by said child.

That's a good use of reflection, but sometimes reflection pushes into a dark place because we have given the keys of our mind over to someone who hates us. More common, I find, is that the child (adult) reflects, realizes they're being a pill about supper (life) and then gets really mad at themselves for tantruming over something so insignificant.

"You will run when none pursues you." We make life way more difficult on ourselves than necessary.

Reflection is good. It stops us from tantruming about dumb things. We should reflect and it helps us to turn and live a better life, but we do not need run when we aren't being pursued. We need to shun evils and live a better life. But a better life doesn't mean one of constant worry and looking over our shoulder for an enemy that isn't there.

Safeguard your home against such invasion. Kick out the evil from your home. Don't give evil spirits free reign on your mind. Don't run away from nothing. Calm down. The Lord is on your side.

Ramblings, scattered mind

Today there are too many things to write.

I want to write about the ocean. Sitting on the beach in the morning and listening to the sound of the waves. It's one of the most peaceful things on earth and I love it.

But I also want to write about childhood and the little things that stick in your heart.

Speaking of sticking in your heart, I also want to write about hearts and feeling heard.

Also, I wrote it a while ago, but today my article was published on New Christian Woman. It's really cool to see my article resonating with others. Not even to feel that solidarity in "Oh there are others!" but to know that my article helped someone else feel heard is powerful!

I'm also feeling crazy and sporadic today cause I'm trying to figure out a lot of travel plans. I bought my bus ticket and talked to all the right people about arranging rides and everything. I just have one leg of the journey still to figure out. And I'm also looking toward Thanksgiving travel plans and the Christmas pageant because someone just sent me an email about figuring out the live animals for that. So there's just so much on my mind and so I'm feeling kinda pulled a bunch of different directions and unable to focus on just one thing. So here I am rambling boring thoughts onto my blog. I wanted to write something worthwhile today. Oh well.

Cars in the distance

It was a cool evening. Not cold, but cool enough to warrant being wrapped in my cozy sweatshirt in August. My favorite summer evening weather! I sat on the deck listening to the crickets and the sound of waves breaking on the other side of the dunes. The occasional distant sound of a car reminded me of my childhood. There was something nostalgic about the rumbling sound of car tires rolling along the pavement. It reminded me of pulling into my grandparents' house after a long car trip. The east coast is alive with night sounds. You can hear bugs if you listen for them. The west coast didn't have so many bugs. It was weirdly quiet. Of course there's always a trade off because here you get eaten alive. I remember nights in California, lying on the grass at night and not being afraid of the bugs. Yes, that was childhood, but it was also San Diego.

I remember pulling into my grandparents' driveway and half waking up. I remember the porch light and the screen door greeting us with a squeak. And there were the lightning bugs. Such a magical part of visiting my grandparents' home. And the smells. The smells of the night air and the smells of their kitchen. I specifically remember the smell of Cracklin Oat Bran wafting from the pantry stairs: slightly sweet, with a hint of nutty earth smell... probably mingled with a bit of rancid. I don't know if they ate it themselves or if it was there for us, but we didn't visit often so I hope that it was in flux.

We didn't visit often and yet, the sound of a lone car on the road reminded me of arriving after a long trip in the car. I must have a specific memory that all the other memories hang on, for it wasn't a frequent occurrence.

Sitting now, close to the shore was a more frequent happening. I could hear the crickets and the waves and yet my ears were tuning into the cars passing infrequently along the boulevard. That dull hush of passing cars will always remind me of the end of a long trip. That sound is the end of a long day. The sound that draws you in and says "Welcome traveler. Rest now."

Are all feelings valid?

Are all feelings valid? I've seen a few articles recently about letting kids feel the feels. And some people have said that they don't think it IS valid for kids to be allowed to express all their emotions. But I think it depends on some definitions.

What does "express" mean?

Express - convey (a thought or feeling) in words or by gestures and conduct.

I guess I believe in freedom of speech, but I also believe in consequences. I don't think children OR adults should just be allowed to scream anything.

So, I guess I'd say that humans should be allowed to FEEL the feelings, but not necessarily allowed to express them. Some gestures, conduct or words are just not appropriate. I think everyone realizes that.

When I think about things that I feel, I KNOW that they're crazy, or even wrong. And that can make it so much worse that I feel them. So I would like people to acknowledge my feelings but not to validate them. Some feelings are not valid, but that doesn't mean I don't feel them.

A very basic example is when I get cold. I remember as a kid my brothers saying things like, "It's not cold. I'm not cold!" and I would look down at my arms covered in goosebumps and think to myself "Um, I didn't choose to feel cold. I'm not doing this on purpose, to annoy you. I cannot change the fact that I feel cold. I don't care what temperature it is, my body is shivering!" but I didn't usually say anything. I would just get angry because I couldn't express to them that I couldn't control my body temperature.

But what about emotions? Can we choose what emotions we feel? Do we have control over them? I'd say that we don't have control over the thoughts and feelings that come into our heads and hearts, but we can control what we do with them once they're there.

Someone once said, "You can't choose what thoughts enter your head, but you can control which ones you invite in for tea." The point being that you are not responsible for the thoughts that come in to your head. If you see someone and your thought is "I wanna kill that person," you don't have to make yourself guilty of that feelings you can immediately be like "Ugh! I don't want to think that!" and kick it out of your head. If you sit there thinking about all the ways to kill that person, then you're culpable. You are inviting the thought in for tea. Meditating on some evil.

So yeah, if someone says "I feel ___." The reaction should never be "No, you don't feel that way." That's not helpful and it's not true. You cannot know what another person is feeling. If they tell you how they are feeling you don't get to contradict them.

People often want to make someone feel better so if I were to say to a friend "I feel useless. I feel like I'm not lovable" and he responded in well-meaning kindness "No! You are very lovable and such a useful person" that might seem like a kind thing to say, but all he has done is invalidate my feelings.

I believe that the appropriate response is "I'm sorry that you are feeling that way. How can I help you?" He doesn't have to agree with me. He doesn't have to say that the feelings are valid, but he should acknowledge that I do in fact feel that way whether or not I should.

If a friend were to say to me "I don't feel love for my husband." I should not respond "Yes you do! Let me remind you why!" I should say "Oh man! I'm so sorry. That sucks. I'm sorry you feel that way! What can I do?" Of course I would want to help her remember why she loves her husband, but I think it's important to acknowledge what the other person is feeling before trying to make it better.

So, with adults you can acknowledge, but not affirm feelings, but can you do the same with children?

If a kid falls down and sees that an adults is watching they oftentimes will burst into tears because they want comfort. So I try not to react strongly to a kid falling down. I usually pick them up and cheerfully say something like "Oops! Are you okay?" Gasping nearly always results in the child wailing. Is that wrong? Is that distracting the kid from expressing their emotions? But if they really are okay, it's not really doing them a service to let them wail. And if they are truly upset or hurt (physically or emotionally) is it then okay to let them cry?

I think so, but sometimes if a kid is upset by something like spilled milk is crying really warranted? I  want to be able to tell my kids that that isn't worth crying over. And maybe if they need to cry that other people don't need to hear it. I guess people should be allowed to cry if they want to, but no one is obligated to feel sorry for them if they do.

Another thing I find myself wondering about is saying "It's okay" to a crying child or baby. I used to think that perhaps that wasn't a fair thing to tell them. "You're okay" "It's okay" sounds like it's brushing off their feelings and not letting them emote. But a few nights ago I was holding a crying baby and found myself rubbing her back and saying "It's okay to cry. It's okay." And realized that I wasn't trying to talk her out of crying, I was trying to reassure her that the crying was okay. "It's okay to feel sad."

Because sometimes you just feel sad, like you just feel cold. I can't change how I feel, but I can always choose what I do about it.

Crying: Is it secret? Is it safe?

Ah ha! Writing the crap was useful. I just want to write all the things. I want to work on my stalled out story, I want to write more blog posts and feel all the feels.

I don't know what I want to write about, but it's through writing that I get inspired to write. I just start rambling about life and sometimes it continues to ramble and sometimes it becomes something.

I am a super supressor. Of tears, of emotions. And I want to let them out. I want to cry for nearly no reason right now. I cried twice in the last two days which is a lot for me, and I want to cry more. It's like writing. Writing inspires more writing, crying inspires more crying.

Does the writing have to mean anything for it to be worth it? Does the crying have to mean anything to be worth it? I want to cry because my shoulder hurts. Not badly. Not the kind of pain that really induces aching tears, but it hurts a fraction and that should be enough to let me cry. Haha.

I've always wondered why crying is so hard for me. As a child I cried a lot. My Daddy let me cry. I never felt suppressed in my childhood. I cried a lot. I think because a) I was an emotional child and the feelings were real and valid and b) I was a manipulative child (like all children?) and used tears to get my way. Thinking back on it, I can't ever remember fake crying (but that certainly doesn't mean I didn't do it) but I think I most often used real sad feelings to get my way.

So, I wasn't stunted as a child. 

Or was I?

I think one of the things that prevents me from crying most often is worrying about what other people will think of me. I don't want people to pity me and I don't want people to worry about me or maybe even care about me. That's strong, but I really don't like manipulating people with my emotions. I want people to care about me because I've logically convinced them that I'm worth caring about. I am always worried that people will agree to things that they don't actually want to.

Setting aside tears, when I ask someone for something or if they want to do something, I am of course afraid of rejection. It's human to fear rejection. But I'm also really afraid that they will say "yes" to something that they wish they could say no to. I live in fear of people agreeing to things they don't want.

So back to tears, I am afraid of other people reacting to my tears. Here I sit, across from another human. If I were to start crying while writing I assume that he would notice, probably even stop what he was doing and ask if I was okay. I don't want him to stop his work to deal with me. But I'd probably feel worse if I sat here crying and he didn't react at all. And so my only option is to sit here, suppressing the tears that want to squish out of my eyes. I can feel them. I don't have any idea what they're doing there or what they mean. My little Inside Out people in my brain didn't tell me why anything should be sad right now. I don't feel sad. I don't feel neglected or anything. I just really like crying. But I also hate it.

And while it might seem ridiculous to hold back the silly unlabeled tears, I honestly FEEL like I will FEEL better if I just hold them in and don't let them disrupt other peoples' lives. And yet, I bet a lot of people would actually feel like their day held more meaning if they comforted a friend.

If I trade places with my friend how would I feel? Would I feel happy to give up on this journal entry to help a friend? Of course I would! So why can't I treat myself the same way?

Do I feel the same way about other emotions? If I were writing something else and started laughing, would I feel disruptive? Would I feel bad? No, I think that it is much easier to ignore a slight laugh than the silent trickling tears. A friend might ask what is funny, but they certainly wouldn't be remiss if they didn't ask. If I couldn't stop laughing then sure, some conversation might ensue. But it is definitely a different type of thing. Partly because I wouldn't mind getting someone out of their mood to laugh with me or to enjoy something fun or funny that I could share.

But I have been in the opposite place of being with friends, laughing and having a good time and then having someone show up in tears and killing the mood. Did I want to comfort this crying man? Not particularly, I did feel jarred into a completely different mood. Was it wrong of him to kill the atmosphere that we had created with laughter and fun? Is it wrong of me to think that perhaps he could have chosen a different way to enter? I know that if I were coming to a party and felt like crying I wouldn't have showed up, or I would have come, pulled aside a friend and asked for some support.

And of course I have been in situations with friends where through conversation or whatever they begin to cry and that doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. I just want to hug them and love them and care for them and I don't feel like I am being manipulated or any such nonsense. 

I don't have the answers. I just know that I am afraid. Far too often I am afraid. Are my feelings valid? Does valid have anything to do with it? Ah yes, I will write another post on whether or not feelings are valid and what I think about that! But for now, I will end this somewhat sad entry and maybe go work on my story.

Little Rosie Dutchess

I found it! My sister and I co-authored this when we were kids. She was between 10-16. And I was between 6-12. I know we wrote it while sitting in our treehouse. And those are the ages we were when we had a treehouse. Here's our little masterpiece:

It was a dark and stormy night, in the middle of July
When little Rosie Dutchess began to cry.
When the sun began to rise,
Little Rosie Dutchess dried her eyes.

She was crying ’bout a baby who had just been born.
Another little Dutchess made her quite forlorn.
No longer Mother’s baby, nor Daddy’s queen,
Nor little Rosie Dutchess, but little Edward Dean!

All the coos and gurgles made her aunts quite “thilly.”
It also charmed her uncles, including uncle Willy!
This was the last straw, no more could she bear.
How could little Edward? How could he dare?

She put one a pink dress, and pink sandals too,
She was dressed all in pink, but she felt rather blue

She went down for breakfast, but none was to be found
She went into Edward’s room, and no one was around.

She walked into the parlour, she could not believe her eyes,
Her uncles and her aunts gave her a great surprise.
On the table lay several gifts and a cake,
The tags said “for Rosie”, there must be some mistake.

“These gifts are for me,” Rosie excitedly said,
And then she noticed little Edward lying in his bed.
He was softly breathing, that precious fragile form,
Little Rosie Dutchess thought “I’m glad he was born.”

Fearful Frettings

I must do all the things. I went shopping and played ukulele with my nieces. But now I just want to play ukulele and accomplish nothing else.

But I must clean and I must do laundry and I must pack for camp. And I must eat all the veggies so they don't go bad while I'm away.

Sunblock. Sunglasses. Things I will forget.

I have never been so inspired about writing before. I love to write. I wrote stories when I was a child. I wonder if I can find the first story I wrote. About Toodles and baby Cindle. I don't know if it really was the first story I ever wrote, but it's the first I remember. I was too young to write so I dictated it to my mother, and I added drawings. I can still picture them now. I wonder if my parents kept it. I should seek it out. I remember it being an excellent story.

I also co-authored a poem with my sister when we were young. About little Rosie Duchess. I wonder where that went. At one point I had it memorized. Maybe I could piece it back together?

It was a dark and stormy night in the middle of July
When little Rosie Duchess began to cry.
She was crying 'bout her brother who had just been born.
Another little Duchess, made her quite forlorn.

She put on a pink dress, and pink sandals too.
She was dressed all in pink, but she felt rather blue.

And I can't remember anymore. I wonder if I ever typed it up, or if it's still in a box of papers from my childhood.

I also wrote a few poems on my own. I remember tucking the sheets in their red folder under my mattress so that no one would find them. I imagine they're gone too. I never liked sharing my stories or poems with others. I have always been afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of what's in my mind? What others will think of it? I don't like opening myself up to criticism. So rather than sharing and getting feedback good and bad, I held it all in my entire life.

It's like a story I once watched unfold. My nephew would be out with his mother, and the cashier would offer him a balloon. He was a polite little boy, and he would decline with tact, even for one so young. I asked him if he didn't like balloons, and he said that he liked them, but he didn't want them to float away. So even with my assurances that I could get it safely to the car and safely to the house afterwards, he didn't want it. He was too afraid of losing it.

I think this applies to so much of my life. I'm too afraid of what I will lose that sometimes it's not even worth trying. People are afraid of each other. It hurts to open up to another human. So the risk of losing a friendship or relationship holds us back from even beginning. Or with my writing, the fear of criticism and rejection stifles me, and while nothing stops me from writing, it has stopped me from sharing.

I have been afraid for too long. This year I made it my New Years resolution to share music at least once month. I think I have succeeded in sharing at least twice a month. And this summer I have been sharing my writing with others too. It's still scary. But it's getting easier. Because people are kind.