P double O L

Soooo..........I may or may not have bought a pool.









Ok, I did.
Gosh! Drag it out of me why don't you!
Last weekend Pete and I went to Cleveland to see Jake and Cody. They have a smallish pool that is the perfect size for drifting around on rafts.
I had a pool in my back yard growing up and while I always feel like I'm missing the water I didn't quite feel it as acutely as I did when floating on a raft for hours at a time this past weekend.

Then I saw that the pool was on sale at Big Lots for $69.
Then I realized we could shimmy the shed over to the side of the side patio and not have to create a big dirt circle in my yard again.
Then I realized that I would be working extra hard on house projects and would LOVE to have a pool to recuperate in.
Then I realized I'm almost 32 and can do what I damn well please and so I called Pete to meet me at Big Lots and I bought the pool.

Then I had to go to another Big Lots and buy a 2nd pool. (His and Hers pools!). Ok, so the first one had no pump or filter and the 1st Big Lots didn't have anymore so I'll be returning the 1st one and keeping the 2nd one...but I digress.

I'm sort of having a love/hate relationship with the pool right now, but Pete pointed out last night that as soon as it's up and I can float on my raft in the pool I'll drop the hate and only love it.

Harry Potter

I fought Harry Potter for a long time. Not because I was against the series or had any idea what it was or wasn't about, I just didn't care.
But last summer (2009) I decided to bite the bullet and read through the series. I'm pretty sure Katy cried a little with relief.

I have been hooked every since. I've read the series twice now, I've watched the movies innumerable times and have downloaded all the audiobooks to my iPod and have listened through them all twice already.
I might be obsessed.
I also really really want to go to Universal Studios and get a wand at the Harry Potter exhibit.

And I don't even care.
Because it's awesome.
Today the 1st part of the last book comes to the big screen and I saw it Tuesday at a sneak preview (and might have had an excitement hangover on Wednesday) and am seeing it again tomorrow. I kind of might even want to go see it again after that....

So happy Harry Potter day to you all!

Control

The cut is deep, but never deep enough for me
It doesn’t hurt enough to make me forget

One moment of relief is never long enough
to keep the voices in my head
from stealing my peace

Oh, control
It’s time, time to let you go
Perfection has a price
but I cannot afford to live that life
It always ends the same; a fight I never win
Chorus
I’m letting go of the illusion
I’m letting go of the confusion
I can’t carry it another step
I close my eyes and take a breath
I’m letting go …

There were scars before my scars
Love written on the hands that hung the stars
Hope living in the blood that was spilled for me

Chorus
I’m letting go of the illusion
I’m letting go of the confusion
I can’t carry it another step
I close my eyes and take a breath
I’m letting go …

--JJ Heller Control from When I am With You

I write

Please don’t hear this as me whining. I’m a writer. When I write, I heal. When my fingers move across the keyboard and my head nods slowly in agreement and my throat closes up because I need to cry it out a bit and the tears are actually words, I am soothed. It’s like medicine. So forgive me if my medicine is making you sick.

I read this post and the above quote was a part of it and you know, I just had to share. Because even though I'm loathe to identify myself as a writer this is how it is for me too. I've journaled since I was 8 (back when I called it a diary because I was a little girl and it was ok to call it a diary then). I've written on scraps of papers, the back of napkins, various social medias, a few walls and once on a rock.
I write.
I write to get the crazy out.
I write to untangle my emotions and thoughts and to try to put a sometimes overwhelmingly chaotic and scary world back in some semblance of order.

I'm going through a season now of trying to intentionally feels things I've stuffed down with large pepperoni, no sauce w/ garlic butter pizzas from Papa Johns. I'm trying to feel things and categorize them appropriately.
I'm working on tearing down the idols of friendships and grief that I've built over the last 31 years and building an alter to the only God that will never let me go.
So it's sad sometimes.
It's angry sometimes.
It's blank and unfeeling sometimes.

But I write. To squeeze out all the tears I refused to cry for so many years and to lance the wounds I've been suffocating beneath layers of wobbly skin.
I write because sometimes I don't know what else to do.

When I write, I know that sometimes I scare you. I know that sometimes I annoy you and it's just going to be that way for a bit, or maybe forever because I have no idea who it is that God is so forcefully shaping me into being right now.

So forgive me. If my medicine is making you sick.

Quenched

Awhile ago I wrote a post about a period of dryness is my life.
It didn't really go away that quickly. I was plunged back into it and I wasn't doing that well for awhile.
I felt really unstable and unsafe and I often wondered if I would ever feel brave again. I wondered if the parched feeling in my heart and the deepest depths of me would ever feel satiated again.

I begged and pleaded to God, I shut down and tried to shut him out. I shut out people around me that were just trying to love me and I struggled against the dryness trying desperately to hold on to hope.

Because I've been through them before. Regardless of the specifics of the beginning, setting aside the different people involved I've been dry, so dry, many times before. When I step back and look at the overarching pattern of it I see that at the end of the dryness is a period of total renewal. A spring after a long and cold winter.
I emerge from the periods of dryness stripped of all that would burden me, stripped of all that had distracted me and I stand naked (sorry) and vulnerable on the cusp of what ends up becoming a time of confirmation, growth, refining and development in my life. Through leadership, serving, the friendships and relationships that remain and most especially by God I am rebuilt, reinforced, stretched and grown so much more then if I had been dragging the baggage stripped off of me in the desert.

My heart is so full tonight. After two nights in a row dreaming and talking about Washington Project and the leaders stepping down and up it has just been confirmed over and over again that the right decisions are being made. While God was pressing one to step down he was preparing others to step up. While God was burdening my heart to pull back with my 'do it all myself' leadership style he was emboldening people to step out on the limbs and joyfully share how God was burdening their hearts to step up and lead in whatever capacity was needed.

Hearing their hearts on leadership and serving and knowing God has placed them all here for a time such as this has been humbling and amazing. I just can't even begin to express my gratitude for these leaders and the way their stepping up is confirming a deep heart groan of mine and is working as cool water quenching the thirst I've been begging God to relieve.

This girl couldn't be more thankful.
Amen.

When It Doesn't Seem Like It

I have mentioned about a bajillion times how much I love Alece and how often she writes my heart even when it's coming from a much different wound than mine.
This post is no different.
Especially this part: 

Often what God does and allows in my life does not make sense to me. Yet His promise is that it’s for my good and His glory. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.

Here's the full post:

I’m sure you’re familiar with this story. But bear with me for a moment…

Mary and Martha’s brother was sick, and they sent word to Jesus to let Him know.

“When He heard this, Jesus said, ‘This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.’ Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. Yet when He heard that Lazarus was sick, He stayed where He was two more days… On His arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb…”

Jesus had told his disciples that “this sickness will not end in death”. And yet… Lazarus died.

We have the benefit of knowing how the story progressed from there—that Lazarus would be raised from the dead—but no one there did.

All they knew was that Lazarus died. And that Jesus could’ve healed him—that He even implied He would—and yet He didn’t…

In those moments, I’m sure it was impossible for them to imagine that “will not end in death” could possibly still be true. Lazarus was dead, for crying out loud.

But even still, Jesus’ words were truth. And everyone eventually saw them come to pass when Lazarus was resurrected.

Smack in the middle of the story though, while they were all grieving the death of their friend, Jesus spoke some words that make me stop breathing for a moment:

“For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe…”

He was talking about the fact that He hadn’t been there to heal Lazarus before he died. “I am glad I was not there…” Wha? He’s glad His friend died? He’s glad his sisters’ hearts broke in grief? He’s glad??!!

“For your sake… so that you may believe… it is for God’s glory…”

Often what God does and allows in my life does not make sense to me. Yet His promise is that it’s for my good and His glory. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.

Even when death has already sunk its teeth in. Hard.

In those moments, He still says “I am glad… for your sake.” And while that pains my heart in so many ways as I think about my life right now, I want to believe there is pure love in that statement.

I’m no longer hoping that I’ll be spared from the agonizing pain of my journey. I’m not asking to be saved from the fiery furnace… because I’m already in it. I’ve been in it for a long time.

I want to believe that it “won’t end in death” even though death is already here.

I want to believe that He loves making beauty from ashes, life out of brokenness, and a new beginning where there is nothing but finality.

I want to somehow find hope again.

Not in rescue, but in resurrection.

Where I Love You

This is from The Hunger Games. It's one of my favorite parts of the book and easily one of the most moving moments for me in the book.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open, the sun will rise

Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.
(p235)

What God Said

I read this at Brandy's blog. I LOVED it and it is the same conversation I've had a million times with God. LOVE.THIS.

“Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the
garden’?”

Those were the words the serpent spoke. The slippery words he whispered in
Eve’s ear.

So she paused.

Wondered.

Doubted.

Slipped.

Fell.

I don’t judge her. Because every day, Satan whispers those same words in my
ear. Sometimes, the words cause me to slip into sin against others.

But even more often, those slippery words encourage me to forget who I
am.

“Did God really say He loves YOU?”

His words drip with contempt. I pause.

“Did God really say you are BEAUTIFUL?”

Scorn spills from his lips. I wonder.

“Did God really say you are his DAUGHTER?”

Laughter tinges his words. I doubt.

“Did God really say He FORGETS your sin?”

Words that remind me of my filth. I slip.

“Did God really say you can TRUST Him?”

His lies pull me under. I fall.

And I lay there. Holding the forbidden fruit in my shaking hands. Wondering
how I got here, to this place of unbelief and doubt.

But God, in His boundless mercy and grace, has never lost sight of me. And
He answers.

“I love you.”

His words sooth my wounded heart. I listen.

“You are beautiful.”

Honey spills from his lips. I look.

“You are my daughter.”

Joy tinges his words. I believe.

“I’ve removed your sin.”

Words that remind me of my purity. I reach out.

“You can trust me.”

His truth gives me life. I stand.

Did God really say…

Yes.

He did.

Boxes Boxes Boxes

Pete moved in yesterday!
There are boxes everywhere, well everywhere in the basement. The upstairs isn't to bad, just a little cluttered.

His bedroom has been built, his bed is set up and clothes are mostly put away, now he just has to unpack everything and then you know....get a job.
His brother, friend and parent's were here the last few days helping build, unpack and all that fun stuff. I'm just so glad it's not MY stuff I have to put away again.

I don't think it's hit Pete quite yet, I keep reminding him that he's home...he's just home and doesn't have to leave in a few days, weeks, or even months.

Welcome home Pete!

Harry Potter: The Sorcerer's Stone

I read the Harry Potter series for the first time last summer. I had initially refused to read it because it was popular and well....I can be quite contrary when I put my mind to it.
I LOVED the series.
I especially loved that all 7 books were released and I could read them boom boom boom. But then the problem was that I read them boom boom boom. I mean I read 7 books, some of which were quite thick in a month and a half.

So I decided to start buying the books (I read them from the library) at used book stores and have 1,2,3 and 7. I want to re-read the entire series before November when the 1st part of the 7th book comes out. (I just got chills thinking about the movie, I'm a nerd)
I'm excited to re-read so I can read it slower and savor the books more. Last time it was like a sprint reading them, and this time I want to read them like a marathon. (Yes, that was a sports reference, why do you ask?)

I just finished Harry Potter: The Sorcerer's Stone and there were so many more details in it then I remembered the first time through. It might be my feeble brain, but it also might be the speed reader in me missing things (and yes I do have a picture of myself under a banner that says speed reader of the year hanging in the library back home. Just ask Stephanie).
I love the way the relationship was so contentious between Hermione and Ron and Harry at first. The movie doesn't make it seem so bad when the book has them at each others throats.
I also loved reading the books since watching the movie. Especially Snape's character Alan Rickman. I loved picturing Rickman as I read the scenes with Snape.

One of my favorite threads in the book is when Harry find the Mirror of Erised. It's a mirror that gives you the deepest longings of your heart. When a completely secure and at peace person looks into the mirror they will see only themselves. Ron explains to Harry in the book that men have wasted away and died staring into the mirror because they couldn't pull themselves away from it to even eat. It's just so poignant an explanation and every time it reminds me how easily I can get lost in this ideal of how my heart wishes things could be and how I run the risk of wasting away staring after something that isn't even real.

I am really looking forward to re-reading this series and seeing the little things I missed and picking up plot lines that I know will lead into the Deathly Hallows.

Golden Girls

I've been watching re-runs of the Golden Girls lately. They ran the finale the other night and I teared up at Dorothy's good-bye monologue. So lovely, and I so didn't appreciate it when I watched it the first time.

These are memories that I'll wrap myself in when the world gets cold and I
forget that there are people that are warm and loving.
Your friendship was never something I expected at this point in my life and
I could never have asked for a better surprise

Everything I learned tonight.....

I learned from TV.
The bad thing about dog sitting is I can't do anything around my house. The nice thing about dog sitting is I can't do anything around my house. So I have a perfect excuse to just watch movies or TV. Color me tickled pink when I stumbled across a Top 100 Songs of the 90s countdown on VH1 tonight. I was flipping channels on commercials and started immediately gleaning all sorts of wisdom and information from the intellectually stimulating shows I was watching (E! News, VH1, D10 oh it was junktacular) Here are my observations and maybe a confession or two:

• Gerardo of 90's Rico Suave fame is now a rapping pastor in Cali
• If you had to pick two words to sum up the 90s it would not be Canadian Reggae
• Confession: For my 13th birthday I had a Kris Kross party and required everyone wear their clothes backwards. Swimsuits were the exceptions.
• Tv told me plaid is having a HUGE moment right now. Who is plaid?
• I'm sorry, but I don't care who makes it a Romper will never look good on my figure. Stop encouraging bad fashion choices TV!
• I loved 90s music, which apparently means I loved some bad bad music
• I was really sad with Left Eye died. It reinforced my resolve to not go chasing waterfalls
• I like Julia Roberts with Pretty Woman frizzy hair best
• I miss videos on MTV
• Justin Bieber stole his 'hair out of his eyes' head shake from Ed Kowalczyk "I Alone" video
• In New Jersey calling someone "Fake and Bake" is an insult
• I am disappointed that Lionel Richie allowed Yahoo! to use "Hello" in their recent ad. I used to sing that song with heart into a hairbrush and my mirror as a pre-teen
• Brad Pitt was the hottest in Legend of the Fall and caused me to become obsessed with the name Tristan. I've gotten over that now, sort of.
• "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover" by Sophie B. Hawkins will forever be Dillon and Kelly cheating on Brenda on the beach in 90210 while Brenda was cheating on Dillon in Paris with Dean Cain. (I could win an original 90210 trivia game)
• The way Ben Lee talks reminds me of the male Australian version of Claire
• Fiona Apple was 18 when she wrote Shadowboxer. EIGHTEEN! She is my age. This freaks me out.
• No no....what IF God was one of us?
• Are YOU down with O.P.P? (Then I found out what it means and it was scandalous!)
• I still hate Hootie and the Blowfish with the fire of a thousand suns
• One of the dudes from Color Me Bad lives in Cincinnati. WHAT?!
• I remember the exact moment I first heard the Spice Girls song Wannabe
  

I'm sure there's more, but good golly I had so many revelations on TV!

All the Way

The thing is sometimes I don't know what to say, or even how to say it. I want to say things, but I feel clumsy and awkward. I want to say things but don't even really understand what I want to say or the ramifications of a single word uttered without a million thoughts and what ifs preceding it.

But I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you all the way. No matter who what when where or why.
All the way.

One could even say:

Now and forever, you are a part of me
And the memory cuts like a knife
Didn't we find the ecstasy, didn't we share the daylight
When you walked into my life

Now and forever I'll remember
all the promises still unbroken
And think about all the words between us
That never needed to be spoken

We had a moment, just one moment
That will last beyond a dream, beyond a lifetime
We are the lucky ones
Some people never get to do all we got to do
Now and forever, I will always think of you

Didn't we come together, didn't we live together
Didn't we cry together
Didn't we play together, didn't we love together
And together we lit up the world

I miss the tears, I miss the laughter
I miss the day we met and all that followed after
Sometimes I wish I could always be with you
The way we used to do
Now and forever I will always think of you
Now and forever I will always be with you
 -Carole King Now and Forever

Hiding and Patience

I think Maigh guest posted on one of my regular blogs, that has to be how I found it. But either way I read this and I loved it.

Sunday morning when The Mc went to the rubbish bin he found a bird trapped
in a skylight in our mailroom, and we spent the next 45 minutes (with the help
of a neighbor with a ladder) helping the little guy back to the real
world.

He didn’t mean to get himself trapped, but he was curious and wound up
somewhere he shouldn’t have been. Sticking to his instincts, he flew up and kept
flapping his wings against the plastic bubble thinking there had to be a way
through it and to the light – if he just flew harder and faster and with more
resolve.

We laid bread crumbs down in hopes he was hungry and would come down to
eat. He didn’t. We threw them up, in hopes he would embrace the Hansel and
Gretel-ness of it all. He didn’t. So we did what we had to with a long pole
broom and a ladder, shepherding him out by way of what may have felt like
violent means.

I need the universe to come after me with a broom.

For the past three weekends, I’ve been in hiding. I’ve been a little
worn out and burned out and used up and feeling generally deflated and selfish
and a lot like that bird in the skylight.

Flashing back to a 5 year old me who hid in a round rack in the middle of
Sears while my mother picked out clothes for my brother and the upcoming school
year. You can guess what happened.

I feel like that.

While I didn’t exactly want to be found, I didn’t exactly want to stay
lost, either. I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know how to get home, and in
retrospect – I doubt I knew where home was.

There used to be a piece of paper tacked to a corkboard in my kitchen
with a list of goals. It was weathered by sunlight and the heat and humidity of
a kitchen, with faded print declaring short term, mid term, long term goals
spanning finances, health and spirit. Some have been met, some have been
replaced, and many have been abandoned in light of life changes…like moving to
Ireland by 40.

I’m trying to find my way out of the skylight, out of the rack and back
to a path that feels intentional and purposeful, that feels like I’m
contributing and moving in the right direction. I’ve written about this and
mused about this and bored all of you as well as myself nearly to tears but the
fact remains that I. Am. Lost.

This naturally presents an entirely different series of emotions into
the mix: guilt (“don’t be so effing selfish, you’re ALIVE”) and annoyance
(“would you stop WHINING already”) and confusion (“ummmm where was I supposed to
be?”) and that doesn’t help a smidge.

Earlier this week I had a hold of my mojo for about an hour, and I lost it
again…squirrely little bitch.

So during this in-between time of loosing and finding again, I’ll stay
in the safety of my jammies and the condo with the kitties and the TV and poor
Mc trying to be as supportive as he can with me in a funk and cleaning
compulsively as though a pristine home where there’s a place for everything and
everything in it’s place (my mothers ghost) will provide just the right
environment for the mojo to find me again when it’s ready.

Maybe this is supposed to be teaching me patience?

You Are More

This song has shredded me lately and it's summing up the chaos of feelings I've been having lately. Love it.
Tenth Avenue North
"You Are More"

There's a girl in the corner
With tear stains on her eyes
From the places she's wandered
And the shame she can't hide

She says, "How did I get here?
I'm not who I once was.
And I'm crippled by the fear
That I've fallen too far to love"

But don't you know who you are,
What's been done for you?
Yeah don't you know who you are?

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

Well she tries to believe it
That she's been given new life
But she can't shake the feeling
That it's not true tonight S

he knows all the answers
And she's rehearsed all the lines
And so she'll try to do better
But then she's too weak to try

But don't you know who you are?

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

'Cause this is not about what you've done,
But what's been done for you.
This is not about where you've been,
But where your brokenness brings you to

This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved.

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

You've been remade
You've been remade.
You've been remade.
You've been remade.

Even While She Hurts

I have no idea how it is that Alece speaks so deeply to my heart and how my heart seems to be going through similar things as hers.
Love this. Please read it:

God’s given me stewardship over my feelings, thoughts, attitudes,
and behaviors.

I need to recognize and guard them as gifts from God.

He’s given me responsibility over those things, and I have complete freedom
to choose what I do with them.

They are, in fact, the only things I truly control.

But I often forget that.

And when I forget, I live with unhealthy boundaries.

When I allow others’ words and actions to dictate how I respond, I forfeit
my freedom. I hand over the power I have to choose. I surrender the control and
stewardship I’ve been given by God. I allow others to define me instead
of embracing God’s definition of me.

On the flip side, when I forget the freedom others have, I try to take
responsibility for what they alone are stewards over. I attempt to fix people,
overcompensate for them, or smooth things over when they are upset. But in doing
so, I am overstepping my boundaries.

I am responsible only for my own life.

Having and enforcing boundaries isn’t about controlling or punishing
others. It’s about treasuring and guarding the feelings, thoughts, attitudes,
and behaviors God has given me stewardship over.

Living with healthy boundaries means not attempting to take responsibility
for others’ responses and choices, and not forfeiting the responsibility I have
over my own.

I’ve lived my whole life with unhealthy boundaries. In some ways,
I’ve lived with no boundaries at all.

My emotions and inner commentaries are often swayed by others’ words,
actions, and attitudes. And I am quick to take responsibility for other people’s
choices.

But I want to live different.

I want to live free and healthy, and in a way that helps others
live free and healthy as well.

I can’t really say that I’ve gotten better at not responding based on how
others treat me.

In fact, if I’m being most honest, I still don’t really know how to even
change that… how to not be so deeply affected by others.

And right now, my struggles with this are really causing my heart to hurt.
There’s a stinging ache deep inside me that just seems to hurt more
everyday.

But I’ve become more aware of those moments where I hand control
over to someone else. And those moments where I take on what isn’t mine to carry.

I see it for what it is now, which is more than I’ve ever done
before.

And that gives my heart hope.

Even while she hurts.

We believe all sorts of lies....it's called history

I saw Wicked this weekend. It.Was.Amazing.
Leading up to Saturday I listened to the soundtrack approximately 5,962 times so I was pretty familiar with most of the musical, knowing there were some things that I didn't know about clearly. I also already knew that my hear was deeply entangled with Elphaba (the "Wicked" Witch of the West). I've read the book several times and just love her character so much.

But watching the first half of the musical I was overcome with anxiety, anger and love for her character. I mean to the point that it was almost a little ridiculous. I knew what was coming. I knew that lies would be told, that she would be ridiculed, ostracized, vilified and abandoned. I hated that it had to happen.
When Elphaba showed up at the Oz Dust ballroom and didn't know how to act, but tried to fit in anyway, when she discovered that the Wizard was a fraud and a liar, when everything she tried to do backfired and was taken as wickedness instead of her trying to be helpful...I was holding my breath. I wanted to rush up on stage and tell her it was ok, that I loved her that the other people were idiots and didn't see how she was good and wonderful instead of Glinda and the Wizard.
Then I took a deep breath and reminded myself it was just a story. But still I battled with those emotions the entire performance.

Because I know what it feels like and even though it was just a story I wanted to protect her from feeling that way. I saw what was coming and I wanted to avoid the pain.
Right now I feel like I see something coming, and I want to avoid the awkward and the pain that might come with it...I just don't think I'm going to be able to. But that's another post altogether.

The thing is, throughout the story there was hope. Elphaba kept hoping and hoping; with all the hits and rejection she would still hope secretly that it would all work out. Except once...but she recovered her hope. Although it seemed her hope was tinted with sadness after that.
There's a part where Elphaba is accusing the Wizard of lying, and he says, "Back home we believe all sorts of things that aren't true...it's called history." Sometimes history is just the winners version of things. The way the Wizard of Oz is the way that the story was told, but there was this whole other drama pouring forth behind the scenes that shows Elphaba wasn't all that Wicked and Glinda wasn't all that good. The wizard goes on to say, "There are precious few at ease with moral ambiguities. So we act as though they don't exist"

I've found myself more in love with Wicked (the book and the musical...which are very very different) then I ever was with the Wizard of Oz. I prefer the book to the musical still, because in some ways, the musical has a happier ending than the book and I can't resolve happy pink bow endings with what I experience in my life and see in the lives of others.

Bottom line: Wicked was amazing. If it plays near you you MUST see it. If it's not playing near you get the soundtrack. I had a torrid love affair with the soundtrack for 5 years before I got to see the live performance.
I loved Wicked!

Prayer so Fabulous

I love Amy Beth. She writes so well and I've posted some of her entries here. She is so gracious and honest on her blog and about her life. She also helped me fall in love with Beth Moore. Which was an achievement in itself!
So when this post popped up in my reader this morning I read it at my desk with my hand over my mouth. Tears came and I immediately began praying my patootie off for this precious woman. Later on I got a tweet from Jenn asking if I would be willing to pray for Amy Beth tomorrow.
Absolutely.
I'm posting Amy Beth's post below. But please join me in praying for her tomorrow as she dives into uncharted territory. Pray for strength. Pray for comfort. Pray for peace. Pray for the physicians. Pray for healing.
Pray for this lovely young woman that has done so much for others, has poured herself out into the lives of others and asked for nothing in return. Take an hour, take 5 minutes, take however long. Please just take some time tomorrow to pray for the oh so fabulous Amy Beth.

Okay, let’s talk.

It’s Monday morning, 12:02 a.m. All weekend I kept thinking about
what I should do with the blog this week. Should I write? Should I
ask people to guest post for me? Should I ignore what’s going on in my
life and write about other things? Should I write about what’s
happening?
I decided that I wouldn’t write about it and that I’d ignore it,
much like I’ve been doing since last Thursday afternoon. But now it’s
after midnight and I can’t sleep, again, and so I’m writing. I’m still in
the stage of speaking very matter-of-factly about all of this, so it’s probably
a good time to write about it as well.

I went to the internist last Thursday. They did another CT scan,
with contrast, and found the same spot on my left lung that was found on a CT
scan two weeks ago. They found two additional spots that were not found on
the first CT scan. The internist says that he believes none of the three
areas on my lung are cancerous at this time.

I’ve never written about this, but I was diagnosed with Polycystic
Ovarian Syndrome during my sophomore year of college. It’s caused problems
since then, but I actually thought it was getting much better as recently as the
beginning of this year. Things were happening that made it appear that it
had greatly lessened; I thought I was maybe leaving it behind.

I haven’t. The PCOS seems to have killed an antibody that should
be helping me fight off infections, such as the mono and pneumonia. The
internist ordered an immediate ultrasound and, after having an abdominal one
that showed problems, I had a vaginal one as well. Unlike before, when
there has only been one or two cysts on one ovary while the other was clean,
there are now cysts covering both of my ovaries. Far more importantly,
there are now cysts inside my uterus as well.

What was a syndrome before is now a disease, more specifically Ovarian
Disease.

Everything will begin again this week. I’ll meet with another
doctor for a second opinion. I’ll go on Family Medical Leave Act with my
job in case I need to suddenly take an extended time off from work.
They’ll be a biopsy to check for pre-cancerous and cancerous cells. If
they’re there, they’ll be a hysterectomy. There may be one anyway, just so
we can be sure.

He said “If you weren’t 25, I’d order a hysterectomy immediately” and I
said “I don’t want that. I’m 25 and I want babies” and he said “You can’t
become pregnant.” And I cried and my mom cried and she held my hand and
now, for the first time since Thursday afternoon, I’m finally crying about it
again at 12:21 a.m. on Monday morning. This is awful. I don’t want
this. How is this happening to me? I am 25 years old and they are
going to look for cancerous cells inside my body? I am 25 years old and
they say no baby could live inside my body? I am 25 years old and I
watched them mark cyst after cyst after cyst on the screen while the technician
said nothing, but patted my arm while tears rolled down my face?

I’ve gone back and forth about whether or not I would say anything
about what’s going on. If I’m going to blog through this, then I have to
mention it because I just can’t write post after post, pretending like things
are fine when they aren’t. And I’m not sure if I will blog through
it. I’m not sure that I want anyone to see what a mess I’m going to be as
I do this thing.

But if I’m going to talk about it with you, we have to make a deal and
I’m not trying to be mean, but listen, we have to make a deal. I don’t
want emails telling me about your third cousin who was told she’d never have a
baby and now has three children. Do I believe that God can heal
this? Yes. Do I believe He will heal it before I go to heaven?
I don’t know. That may not be His plan. And so I don’t us to be
deciding that His plan is for me to have babies when I’m having to face a very
real reality right now.

Right now, I am facing increasing odds of a hysterectomy which means no
babies. And I need to deal with this however I can and, right now, I
cannot deal with hearing one more story about how someone ended up with a baby
when I know I very well may not. Right now, I cannot deal with this at
all. Right now, I’m spending every waking moment trying to fill my days
with tasks so that I don’t think about this. Right now, I’m trying to deal
with my insurance and schedule specialist appointments and not cry in the aisle
at the grocery store. Right now, I’m trying to think about the fact that,
in a few hours, I need to get up and go into work as usual, that I have another
day of going through my life like usual when nothing is the same as it was last
Monday morning. I am twenty five years old. I do not know how to do
this.

I do not know how to do this.

His character never changes

I love Alece. Her raw emotion and the gift of her sharing it with others is amazing to me. She usually blogs here, but she guest posted this past Thursday and you must read it:

Faith in the Key of Plan B (Alece Ronzino)

I’ve experienced God’s miraculous power in my lifetime. I’ve seen His divine
protection and provision. I’ve watched Him do incredible things.

But when my life crumbled around my feet a couple years ago, what God can do and what He was doing didn’t line up.

God could have stopped my husband from cheating on me. He could have changed his mind about leaving me for the other woman. He could have saved my marriage, protected our ministry, and kept my heart from the deepest pain I’ve ever endured. He could have. But He didn’t.

And I realized something simple yet extraordinary.

There’s a difference between faith in what God can do and faith in who God is.

From my microscopic vantage point, it often seems like God’s actions and in actions—what He allows—aren’t consistent with His character. But I can’t see the big picture from my tiny corner in the vastness of eternity.

Because the truth is, His character never changes. No matter what I’m experiencing in my life, God is loving, faithful, and trustworthy. He is just and merciful. He is Healer and Redeemer. And He doesn’t waste a thing.

Nothing—neither the best nor the worst that I’ve known—is wasted. Ever. Everything can be made new. Everything can be made whole. Everything can
be redeemed.

Nothing is wasted.Even when it doesn’t appear that way right now.

My faith is supposed to be about much more than trusting Him to make everything work out according to my “perfect plan”.

After all, He is more concerned about my holiness than my happiness.

So while life continues to unfold very differently than I’d ever imagined, I want to live with active trust in who He is, even in the midst of pain and brokenness.

Easier said than done, I know. The only way I can even think about making this shift is in moment-by-moment decisions of faith.

So right now, I’m choosing to anchor myself in the unmovable bedrock of God’s character.

And trusting that what feels like Plan B (or maybe Plan F) is really His best for me.

Ally McBeal

I've been rewatching the series Ally McBeal the last month or so. I loved Ally McBeal.
I was hit or miss with the show when it was on originally so I'm picking up on episodes I've missed and falling in love with episodes I loved the first time around.
I ugly cried when Billy left the show and I've laughed so loud I've scared the cats at the show.

I just started season 4, the Robert Downey Jr season. It was a big deal when he was on this show because it was his first time back acting after years of public court hearings and rehab attempts to kick his drug habits. Oh RDJ, how I swooned for you.