As a Christian I am forever rooted in Christ. The Bible says that He lives in me and grows, matures, and eventually will produce fruit.
Looking back through my hour glass of my childhood and adolescence, I found something good. I had a very real and deeply rooted personal relationship with God. He was my hope. He was what I held on to. He was the first one I talked to in good times and bad. He was everything that my earthly father failed to be for me. He was my best friend. And I...I was important to Him.
That relationship, that closeness, and innocence was certainly something that I wanted back in my life again. I was unhappy with what was happening to me (from all sides) but I was joyful on the inside because of the peace that knowing God gave me.
Beyond losing that I also discovered that I had abandoned my pursuit of music and writing. Although, I had helped coach a soccer team when my son was young, I still felt inhibited by my thinking that a grown woman shouldn't behave this way.
Helping out with the youth group, which had been a "dream job" growing up, I wanted to act goofy just like them but then would remember that maybe that was not very "lady-like".
Breaking down those stereo-types in my mind wasn't easy, but it helped that at my core was Christ and He had been there all along. But now...not as much. Why?
And, How do I go back to Him (my root) without going back to my sinful delusions?
I could draw this story out longer but let me just say it. I tried to. And...
I failed.
But my friend (back at the beginning of this series) was right. They were just clothes. I can wear those same clothes knowing that I am a woman now. Knowing that I'm not a freak of nature hoping to look cool for someone who would care for someone like me. In fact, I have worn those clothes again! But my vision has changed. What I see looking back in the mirror at me has changed. My heart has changed.
The hobbies, the special interests, the career choices, and the clothes are all "optional" to God. It's the heart that matters.
It's the heart, He sees.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Clothing Optional part 2 of 3
What is the definition of a woman? And how do we know what a man should be? I think these questions are more crucial to find answers for in our nation today then merely trying to define marriage. Now I guess I should post a dictionary definition or something research related from Wikipedia. But if it were that simple to answer then why are we still asking?
Marriage (typically) is a choice, an agreement between two individuals to spend their lifetime together, till death, no matter what the circumstance. Motherhood, on the other hand, is not a choice (although there are some that would argue this). It is something that you might or might not prepare for in advance. And even with all the child rearing training classes and books available, the constant advice streaming in from all sides both family and friends, NOTHING adequately prepares you for a baby entering your world like life experience.
When my son came home with us from the hospital I was a nervous wreck. I had instantly felt a connection to him while they wheeled us into the other room (after surgery) and I sang to him. This is something I had thought of and planned before hand. My effort to pass on something meaningful to him through my voice and the power of music. Later while rocking him to sleep at home I spoke aloud all my fears to him. It was my simple confession that I had no idea what I was doing but then realizing that we had that common ground between us. This was his first time too. And that made me feel better.
Sometimes my son sees his little sister getting her nails painted or playing with her "princess play make-up" and jealousy flares. He used to say, "When I'm a baby again, I'm gonna be a girl." In the past this small statement might have scared me a little and fed some unfounded fear inside me that I had somehow passed this burden on to my children. Not this time. Because I understood (correction: I understand) that whether my son plays with dolls or army men, wears polish or dirt on his nails, loves pink or blue... he will always be my son. He will always be a boy and someday a man, just the way God created him to be. Our society makes these distinctions between the genders, not God. What an amazing revelation that is to me! (and to my son) Freedom to be anything you want to be, and knowing that your identity is forever secured by the one who made you.
When life gets hard and your way gets blurred, "go back to your roots".
I had ignored the feelings of doubt and inadequacy for so long. To be a better wife, a better lover, and of course to be a mother. My mother in law pushed me into church involvement. I'm grateful that she did because I needed to get out of the house and socialize. But it also made me realize that I'm an adult now, not just a crazy college student. People look at me and they see a grown woman. I feel like a child amongst them but they can't tell that. At home I could raise my kids how I wanted to. By that I mean, I didn't have to pretend to be anything I wasn't. They didn't know any better. They didn't know that other mom's don't like to dig in the mud with their kids to find worms. They didn't know that it was weird that I like spiderman and super hero movies just like their daddy. And if mommy only wears dresses once or maybe twice a month, she's not abnormal for that.
Watching these other ladies at church their behaviors, their hobbies, their family life I felt like I needed to cover myself up again.
And I did...but wearing so many different shoes will eventually produce blisters, especially if they don't fit.
"Go back to your roots." My face a mess with tears streaming and my head swimming with questions, all I could hear was my professor saying, "Go back to your roots."
I had no roots to this "character" I was playing. I was ashamed of my family(Mom and Dad), my past, and ultimately ...I was ashamed of me.
But I had to fix this. I needed to be rooted in something, by something, or someone.
I couldn't keep running away.
(Think of this as an attatchment for clarfication: After proof reading I realize that it might seem that I am saying there is no definite difference between the genders. That is NOT true. God clearly states descriptions for each role in life. And I do understand that there are inherinant differences between the genders (beyond the physical) whether we can see them in ourselves or not. Where the "society" part or our culture kicks in is in the little things... such as our hobbies, our likes and dislikes, and even our facial structure or body type can be scrutunized to not be adequatly living up to the "gender standards". These things don't make a man or not to God. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. =)
Marriage (typically) is a choice, an agreement between two individuals to spend their lifetime together, till death, no matter what the circumstance. Motherhood, on the other hand, is not a choice (although there are some that would argue this). It is something that you might or might not prepare for in advance. And even with all the child rearing training classes and books available, the constant advice streaming in from all sides both family and friends, NOTHING adequately prepares you for a baby entering your world like life experience.
When my son came home with us from the hospital I was a nervous wreck. I had instantly felt a connection to him while they wheeled us into the other room (after surgery) and I sang to him. This is something I had thought of and planned before hand. My effort to pass on something meaningful to him through my voice and the power of music. Later while rocking him to sleep at home I spoke aloud all my fears to him. It was my simple confession that I had no idea what I was doing but then realizing that we had that common ground between us. This was his first time too. And that made me feel better.
Sometimes my son sees his little sister getting her nails painted or playing with her "princess play make-up" and jealousy flares. He used to say, "When I'm a baby again, I'm gonna be a girl." In the past this small statement might have scared me a little and fed some unfounded fear inside me that I had somehow passed this burden on to my children. Not this time. Because I understood (correction: I understand) that whether my son plays with dolls or army men, wears polish or dirt on his nails, loves pink or blue... he will always be my son. He will always be a boy and someday a man, just the way God created him to be. Our society makes these distinctions between the genders, not God. What an amazing revelation that is to me! (and to my son) Freedom to be anything you want to be, and knowing that your identity is forever secured by the one who made you.
When life gets hard and your way gets blurred, "go back to your roots".
I had ignored the feelings of doubt and inadequacy for so long. To be a better wife, a better lover, and of course to be a mother. My mother in law pushed me into church involvement. I'm grateful that she did because I needed to get out of the house and socialize. But it also made me realize that I'm an adult now, not just a crazy college student. People look at me and they see a grown woman. I feel like a child amongst them but they can't tell that. At home I could raise my kids how I wanted to. By that I mean, I didn't have to pretend to be anything I wasn't. They didn't know any better. They didn't know that other mom's don't like to dig in the mud with their kids to find worms. They didn't know that it was weird that I like spiderman and super hero movies just like their daddy. And if mommy only wears dresses once or maybe twice a month, she's not abnormal for that.
Watching these other ladies at church their behaviors, their hobbies, their family life I felt like I needed to cover myself up again.
And I did...but wearing so many different shoes will eventually produce blisters, especially if they don't fit.
"Go back to your roots." My face a mess with tears streaming and my head swimming with questions, all I could hear was my professor saying, "Go back to your roots."
I had no roots to this "character" I was playing. I was ashamed of my family(Mom and Dad), my past, and ultimately ...I was ashamed of me.
But I had to fix this. I needed to be rooted in something, by something, or someone.
I couldn't keep running away.
(Think of this as an attatchment for clarfication: After proof reading I realize that it might seem that I am saying there is no definite difference between the genders. That is NOT true. God clearly states descriptions for each role in life. And I do understand that there are inherinant differences between the genders (beyond the physical) whether we can see them in ourselves or not. Where the "society" part or our culture kicks in is in the little things... such as our hobbies, our likes and dislikes, and even our facial structure or body type can be scrutunized to not be adequatly living up to the "gender standards". These things don't make a man or not to God. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. =)
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Clothing Optional
"They are just clothes,"
A friend said to me after I had spent a weekend laying my past out before her. I confessed how embarrassed I've become to even photographs of my childhood. Because I would see what I was wearing, the way I was standing, who I was with or even the expression on my face, and I knew everything. All that I needed to know. I could see which gears were spinning behind those eyes. I knew why I chose to wear that shirt for that particular day and who I was trying to impress.
And she said, "What's the big deal? They're just clothes."
She was right. They are just clothes.
After "coaching" myself over and over...and over...that I was indeed a "woman", I had to establish a new identity.
I've always thought that the correct answer for a Christian to "Who AM I?" is "I am HIS." That means I am to be whatever God wants me to be. Of course that presents another question,
"What does He want from me?"
The generic Bible answer (insert verse here) is not specific enough, to say the least. And waiting on an unseen, inaudible, omnipotent being to give you marching orders makes it even more difficult.
I can remember..
sitting at my desk while kids at summer school tossed paper wads and various easy to reach objects (paper clips, pens, pencils, erasers, food garbage, pocket lint, etc) at my head. Basically, it was just this one really heavy-set girl who chose me to bully so she would be liked (I'm guessing at that, of course). And I found myself thinking not just WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) but actually viewing myself as if I were Christ himself being taunted by his peers.
And as much as it embarrassed and angered me to be hit and laughed at so many times while the summer school teacher slept at his desk, I did not retaliate or show my frustration. In fact, I even started giving her "weapons" back to her to throw at me again. They (the girl and her onlooking groupies) thought that was absurd. They laughed (that time) in disbelief. And that's when she started to get violent about it. She kicked my desk and was gonna spit in my face when one of the off season football players stood up and said, "Come on now, that's enough. She's cool and this ain't cool no more." Then she had no choice but to like me for the rest of the term if she wanted to remain liked by those she thought really mattered.
Christ would be the ideal identity to have if I wish to please God. But then aren't we all supposed to be like Him?? What's the deal? Are we not all differently designed with each of us livning within the confines of our own personality?
So becoming like Christ might be a good rule of thumb in tough situations and in important decision making, but God created us to be uniquely different.
So who am I?
I awoke to this question again and again, but this time I was sitting with a group of ladies at a Tupperware party. All the ladies were talking about Tupperware like it was their life's dream that they could finally obtain this new limited edition 5 piece "store and seal" in their latest cool blue color... (and on sale!). I tried to feel excited about it too. But really, I felt like a child sitting at a casino while my grandmother hit the slots... A.K.A. out of place.
At this time in my life I also had a toddler and a not yet walking baby at home and so I was attempting to play the role of supermom for everyone. I thought that included Tupperware parties...and more make-up, longer nails, ALWAYS spot-free house when company was over, scapbooking, various women's small groups, saying, "awwww.." every time someone showed me a picture of their kids or a new outfit that they bought for my kids. I thought women were pink loving, flower smelling, skipping rope, and tea parties. When I signed up for MySpace and later Facebook, I was finally asked the direct question in the form of my, "About Me" section. I had to list my hobbies and my interests and I...I didn't even know what to say.
My babies and my husband were my life. They... they defined me.
The "supermom" or "superwoman" that I'd created had no past, no childhood memories, no fun photographs to look fondly over and reminesce. Beyond my marriage to Drew and my choice to change, "I" didn't exist.
It seemed easier that way...
(This will be another two parter, sorry. I need breaks to regroup my thoughts and I don't think you want to read a lot in one sitting either so...see ya again soon!)
A friend said to me after I had spent a weekend laying my past out before her. I confessed how embarrassed I've become to even photographs of my childhood. Because I would see what I was wearing, the way I was standing, who I was with or even the expression on my face, and I knew everything. All that I needed to know. I could see which gears were spinning behind those eyes. I knew why I chose to wear that shirt for that particular day and who I was trying to impress.
And she said, "What's the big deal? They're just clothes."
She was right. They are just clothes.
After "coaching" myself over and over...and over...that I was indeed a "woman", I had to establish a new identity.
I've always thought that the correct answer for a Christian to "Who AM I?" is "I am HIS." That means I am to be whatever God wants me to be. Of course that presents another question,
"What does He want from me?"
The generic Bible answer (insert verse here) is not specific enough, to say the least. And waiting on an unseen, inaudible, omnipotent being to give you marching orders makes it even more difficult.
I can remember..
sitting at my desk while kids at summer school tossed paper wads and various easy to reach objects (paper clips, pens, pencils, erasers, food garbage, pocket lint, etc) at my head. Basically, it was just this one really heavy-set girl who chose me to bully so she would be liked (I'm guessing at that, of course). And I found myself thinking not just WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) but actually viewing myself as if I were Christ himself being taunted by his peers.
And as much as it embarrassed and angered me to be hit and laughed at so many times while the summer school teacher slept at his desk, I did not retaliate or show my frustration. In fact, I even started giving her "weapons" back to her to throw at me again. They (the girl and her onlooking groupies) thought that was absurd. They laughed (that time) in disbelief. And that's when she started to get violent about it. She kicked my desk and was gonna spit in my face when one of the off season football players stood up and said, "Come on now, that's enough. She's cool and this ain't cool no more." Then she had no choice but to like me for the rest of the term if she wanted to remain liked by those she thought really mattered.
Christ would be the ideal identity to have if I wish to please God. But then aren't we all supposed to be like Him?? What's the deal? Are we not all differently designed with each of us livning within the confines of our own personality?
So becoming like Christ might be a good rule of thumb in tough situations and in important decision making, but God created us to be uniquely different.
So who am I?
I awoke to this question again and again, but this time I was sitting with a group of ladies at a Tupperware party. All the ladies were talking about Tupperware like it was their life's dream that they could finally obtain this new limited edition 5 piece "store and seal" in their latest cool blue color... (and on sale!). I tried to feel excited about it too. But really, I felt like a child sitting at a casino while my grandmother hit the slots... A.K.A. out of place.
At this time in my life I also had a toddler and a not yet walking baby at home and so I was attempting to play the role of supermom for everyone. I thought that included Tupperware parties...and more make-up, longer nails, ALWAYS spot-free house when company was over, scapbooking, various women's small groups, saying, "awwww.." every time someone showed me a picture of their kids or a new outfit that they bought for my kids. I thought women were pink loving, flower smelling, skipping rope, and tea parties. When I signed up for MySpace and later Facebook, I was finally asked the direct question in the form of my, "About Me" section. I had to list my hobbies and my interests and I...I didn't even know what to say.
My babies and my husband were my life. They... they defined me.
The "supermom" or "superwoman" that I'd created had no past, no childhood memories, no fun photographs to look fondly over and reminesce. Beyond my marriage to Drew and my choice to change, "I" didn't exist.
It seemed easier that way...
(This will be another two parter, sorry. I need breaks to regroup my thoughts and I don't think you want to read a lot in one sitting either so...see ya again soon!)
Monday, August 16, 2010
Things that are left alone go unnoticed ...till one day...
New info related to the post two weeks ago (Curly Blond) coming soon.
Everything is related to everything else...don't cha know? ;)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Sometimes your hands could use a hand and sometimes... your ears could use an aide
Random song lyrics needs no introduction because... it's "random"
My God, What do you want from me?
Silence still
Unseen, Unheard
Watching and waiting
To move, too blurred
I am lost
I'm confused
What can I do?
I need you...to
Speak!
Speak your love
Come On and
Speak!
Speak to me
Can ya
Make it real
Make it more
Than just ideal
Will ya
Explain your plan
Spell it out
You might have to say it twice
Or even SHOUT!
Just..
Speak
Speak to me
Speak clearly now
Speak your love
Cause..
I wanna know
I wanna change
Can't be in the show
with no part on the stage
Oh Where do I staaaaaaaaannnnnd?
I need to believe that you're greater than..
Speak!
Speak to me
Speak it clearly
(I'm holding out)
Speak!
(Still holding on, to a false hope in a song)
Speak!
to me
Speak your love...
And all the world
is lies
I need to know you
you still believe
in me
My God, What do you want from me?
Silence still
Unseen, Unheard
Watching and waiting
To move, too blurred
I am lost
I'm confused
What can I do?
I need you...to
Speak!
Speak your love
Come On and
Speak!
Speak to me
Can ya
Make it real
Make it more
Than just ideal
Will ya
Explain your plan
Spell it out
You might have to say it twice
Or even SHOUT!
Just..
Speak
Speak to me
Speak clearly now
Speak your love
Cause..
I wanna know
I wanna change
Can't be in the show
with no part on the stage
Oh Where do I staaaaaaaaannnnnd?
I need to believe that you're greater than..
Speak!
Speak to me
Speak it clearly
(I'm holding out)
Speak!
(Still holding on, to a false hope in a song)
Speak!
to me
Speak your love...
And all the world
is lies
I need to know you
you still believe
in me
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