Out of the Funk

The last several posts have been very serious. A little too serious, I think. So, I was looking back through some writing that I did in the past, and I thought I'd let you in on a little of it.

This is my first attempt at an actual piece of fiction - with chapters and everything. So, if you like it, I'll continue to post bits and pieces. Keep in mind that it's very raw and unedited AND completely fictional - even though you may recognize similarities in some of the characters and people in my personal life. It's fictional - roll with it.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Addie peered out across the open field and there it was- the big oak that marked the spot. With the sudden burst of energy she received from the mere thought of the comfort she knew would be hers once she arrived, she hiked up her white dress and took off across the field, her bird legs flying out like propellers, slapping the tall grass out of her face as she flew. As she reached the old birch, she collapsed as the shade washed over her in a cool wave. For a while she laid there catching her breath and thinking about what a dumb decision her getaway would probably prove to be.

“What am I runnin’ from anyway?!” The sound of her voice sounded funny out there in the middle of all that nature. Things always seemed different out there.

“Not now. Not yet.” She had already made her decision. She had run away and now she needed to get to her destination. Once there, she could sit down and think on things. She stood and found the pink spot on the back of the tree that marked her starting point. She put her back to it and walked straight ahead toward the line of trees in front of her. As she reached the line, she glanced around for the first pink polka dot, and on a towering pine to her right she saw it. Addie ran to it and looked for the next dot. She found it, and as she moved from tree to tree, her heart beat quickened in excitement. She knew that if she could just get there, she could find some answers. After about the 10th polka dot, she came to a clearing and there it was. Her heart sunk a little. Time had taken its toll on the little cottage. The hot pink on the front door had chipped away to reveal the rotting gray wood behind it, and its decaying state was a good representation of the condition of the rest of the house. Even so, there was an air of magic in that clearing. Addie moved toward the door and found that it was locked. She stood there thinking for a moment, “Where did she keep that key? It’s been so long…”

Just then a rusted wind chime at the far end of the porch caught her eye. A smile crept across her lips and hope filled her heart. She remembered how proud she had been of that wind chime. She found it at a garage sale when she was 8 years old and thought it would make a perfect addition to the cottage. It was a fat, sassy old lady holding an umbrella. The wind had blown both her dress and umbrella up and she had the funniest look on her face. The rain and time had washed most of the paint away now, but Addie had a perfect picture of it tucked away in her memory. She reached up and felt inside of the upturned umbrella. Her heart leapt as she felt the jagged edge of the key against her fingers. She pulled it out, wiped off the cobwebs, walked to the door, inserted the key, and with a little force, turned the knob.

The door creaked open to reveal the happiest memories of Addie’s childhood neatly stored away and somewhat preserved. She collapsed into the lime green couch by the window on the far side of the living room, soaking up every happy color splashed across the room, remembering every glass of sweet tea that had been enjoyed on the porch, every flower that had been planted in the garden, every memory it all represented, and the two relationships that had molded her the most. It had all taken place here. Suddenly, she could hold the tears back no longer. She let them fall, there in her place of safety and comfort she had nothing more to hide. She wept over the past 5 years, over her poor decisions, over her incessant stubborn pride, over the relationship she had just closed the door on. Between sobs, she managed to whisper, “I can’t. I’m so tired” to whoever might be listening. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard, “Sleep, my child.” Her eyes flung open and she looked around. Was that audible or just in her head, or was it in her heart? “Just in my head…” she told herself as she drifted off again, and this time she fell into a deep sleep.

Britney

I watched the "Britney Spears: For the Record" special the other night. I am not a regular watcher of MTV because I usually feel disgusting after viewing any of the shows they air, but I saw the Britney Spears deal advertised and I was intrigued. I wanted to know what she had to say about the past several years of her life. We've seen tabloid pictures and her face plastered all over the news and heard countless people making fun of her in ways that I would never recover from, but we haven't heard her side of the story. So, I wanted to know. I decided that I would watch a little and if it was more of the same, I would change it. I'm trying hard not to be ultra concerned with the lives of celebrities. It tends to make me wish I had a different life, which is another post entirely.

So, I start watching this interview with Britney [we're not best friends or anything, I just don't feel like typing Britney Spears throughout this post], and I totally began to connect with her. I recognize that's probably what her people were going for, but I really, really did. I began to see her as this really normal Louisiana girl who just got swept up in the insanity of her life. Can I really say that I wouldn't have turned out the same way had I been through what she's been through? There was this one clip, though, that captured me. I couldn't stop thinking about it for days. Here's the clip:

MTV Shows

I just couldn't get her face and her desperation out of my head - Too much order. No passion. Feeling like a prisoner. Better not to feel.

I have been there. Not on the Britney size scale but I've been there. Actually, depending on the day I'm having, I could be there right now.

And then it occurred to me - for her, for me, for you. The answer is the same. Jesus. He insipires passion. Frees us. Allows to feel with our whole hearts. Jesus is the answer for us all. The trick is looking to Him for the answers every single day.

Another 5 Things Challenge

So, I noticed that I've been a bit whiny and butt-faced in my past few posts. I apologize for that. I wish I could say that you've just caught me on bad days, but truth be known, the past several weeks seem to have been string of bad days - mostly of my own doing. I wish that I wasn't a pessimist by nature, but I am. I, in fact, have to work extra hard not to be a pessimist. But I have this good friend who is actually quite the optimist - has been since I met her in the second grade. And I love that about her. I just visited her blog a little while ago and discovered a rather lengthy list of her things to be thankful for. Some of the things are rather small and trivial [which she acknowledges] but I love the fact that she sees them as things to be grateful for, things she has not earned but that have been given to her to enjoy! In honor of my "glass-half- full" friend, I am presenting you with another challenge. The 5 Things to Be Thankful For challenge. Even if you have to dig deep, I know you can think of 5 things - big or small. Here I go:

1. The Birth of Jesus...really and truly. The miracle of Jesus Christ - God in the flesh - being born to a virgin. Growing within her, waiting to be born and grow up and show us what God looks like walking among men. Then, He died on the cross so that we could have life...complete, full, abundant life...now and forever. If you really stop and think of the magnitude of the whole deal, it's a little overwhelming! And the tragedy for me is that I don't stop and think about it very often. This Christmas Season it's going to be different. I am going to reflect on Jesus - who He is, what He's done, and how His very presence brings inexplicable joy and peace to my life.

2. My husband. He just recently had the opportunity to show me some serious unconditional love. I mean he always loves me unconditionally, but on this particular day I'm sure he had to dig deep. I was ultra inconsiderate of his feelings and I pretty much just screwed up big time. It was the most real picture of Jesus' love I think he's ever shown me. I am grateful for him and for his sweet, tender heart as well as his glass-half-fullness. Plus he's my best friend and we have fun together - I like that, too :)

3. My family. I really love them a lot. It's a blessing and curse, but I'm thankful that I still have most of my grandparents, that I have parents who still love and guide and encourage me, that I have siblings who make me laugh and are more dependable than siblings are required to be. They make me laugh and cry and they are all still a part of my life. That's unusual and I'm thankful for it.

4. Sweets - I love, love them! The mere sight of them makes me excited - like they represent something more than just yumminess. I'm not really sure what it is - maybe feelings of being carefree and childlike again??

5. My dog, Bella Boosk. She is the most loving little creature God ever put on the planet. She is always excited to see me and never gets mad at me. She doesn't expect anything from me. Anything I give her is like a big, fat present that she never thought she would be so lucky to receive. I think there's something to be learned from that sweet little ole dog.

So those are the first 5 things to be thankful for that came to my mind. Your turn! Try it...it really does make you feel better.

Good luck getting through this one...

1. Sorry I've been slacking. It's been an interesting couple of weeks...no time to gather my thoughts enough to write them down. The end.
2. I miss the Deep South...deep down ache and long for it. The smell, the land, the people. I had a dream last night that I was in this unnamed smallish Southern town and my heart was so full I could hardly stand it. Then Preacher Man was standing beside me telling me that we had to go. And my heart hurt so bad at the thought of leaving such a wonderful place. Must I have those feelings in my dreams, too?
3. I had a conversation with this guy the other day. Okay actually I just listened while he had a conversation with my coworker who actually has other friends here. Anyway, he sings - like woah sings. So a friend of his asked him to come sing at the church where he's now the Music Pastor. So ole boy who grew up here in this rather large and diverse city went to a smaller church in Tennessee. Not very super small...just smaller. And this is what he said, "Ya know, it was nice. Just one of those churches where everyone is the same and they all wear a lot of floral." Here's the thing - I get what he was saying. He wasn't being ugly. He was just noticing. He even said that and said it was great for his friend but, "I wouldn't be happy there." That's how he ended it. Well that got me to thinking. He definitely wouldn't be happy there. He's served jail time and has tattoos and loves hanging out with the homeless and downtrodden which is a very cool thing. But those people in their floral love Jesus, too. And maybe they reach a different group - the kind that wear a lot of camo and shoot guns and stuff. Or the kind that just need to be loved on because they live far away from their families. I don't know. I just think that I might could have been happy there. Maybe even happier there than here. Because some people love diversity. And I appreciate it...I really do. But other cultures don't fascinate me and I don't think that learning to speak another language is the best thing since sliced bread. I absolutely think you should reach out to all nations and all tongues - but what about THIS nation and THIS tongue??? I don't know. I'm wrestling with it.
4. I'm sick and tired of feeling like a slacker because I have not yet learned the other language Preacher Man speaks, which happens to be Portuguese. In a few days some of his friends who ALL speak Portuguese will be coming to visit and they will all ask, as they did a year and a half ago, "Your wife hasn't learned Portuguese yet?!" And Preacher Man will say, "No. She needs to though. I got her this learn to speak Portuguese program for her birthday but she hasn't used it yet." And they will look at me and say, "Oh...you have to learn!" And I will smile and nod and say, "Yeah I know," all the whilel thinking, "Why? Why do I HAVE to learn? Leave me the stink alone, okay?"
5. My whole family is going to have a big fun time in Branson for Thanksgiving. I'm going to stay here with a bunch of people I don't know that well and eat turkey [not fried] which I'm not really that crazy about. And people will try to make me feel better by distracting me and trying to form some sort of make-shift family for me but the truth is, I don't want another family. I like mine just fine thank you very much. I want to be closer to them. Father, I am begging you to let me live closer to them.

It's Not Enough

Hello to my peeps. Once again, sorry for the absence. I'm working through some things. I don't really know how to put it all into words right this second, but in order to work through these things, I am required to put forth a great deal of effort, which I never like to do. Or I only like to do it on my terms when I'm in the mood. That's so incredibly vague. Sorry.

I love the part where I get to love Jesus and we hold hands and skip together down a very sunny road lined with the most beautiful wildflowers ever. Then we stop skipping and He asks me to do something gut-wrenching. He promises that after I have done the gut-wrenching thing, we will resume our skipping. He'll hold my hand the entire time, He promises. And I really do believe Him. But what He's asking my to do has me standing there on the sunshine covered road, holding Jesus' hand, frozen in fear. Have you ever experienced anything like that? Something you really don't want to do, but you know you have to do it - so you keep delaying it and the longer you delay it the more petrified you become until that fearful feeling creeps into other areas of your body/life until you cannot function normally? And I keep looking up at Jesus' beautiful face hoping that He'll say, "It's okay. You don't have to do it", and we'll laugh and smile and resume our skipping, but instead He just stands there looking at me, lovingly, oh yes, but expectantly as well. Death to the old self. He's asking me to obedient. And we've been standing there for a long time now. And we haven't really talked because He's just waiting for me to step out and do it. But I begin to loosen my hand from His - the very touch of His skin makes me feel uneasy. He doesn't stop me because He doesn't work that way, but He keeps looking at me, waiting patiently. I can't look at Him anymore. I feel too ashamed. And then, because I haven't looked at Him in so long, I begin to wonder if He's really still there. And I start to forget what it was He wanted me to do. And for a little while I'm just glad that the fear is gone, but then a certain discontentment sinks in. I feel so useless, worthless, and wimpy. So I look all around me. Everywhere, hoping to find a glimmer of hope. The road looks kinda cloudy now and the wildflowers are beginning to wilt and I'm not even sure that I remember how to skip. Then I catch the smallest movement out of the corner of my eye, and I look up. He's still standing there in all His bright and shining joy-inducing glory, looking at me so sweetly. Waiting for me to be obedient because He has so many great things to show me further down the road. And I remember the thing He wanted me to do. And the petrified feeling comes back. I know that I have to make a choice. I miss holding His hand so much, but if I reach up to grab it, I will HAVE to do the thing. Because I can't reclaim that intimacy and not do the thing. His love beckons me to obedience. So I try to hold my hand as close to His as I possibly can without actually touching Him, hoping that this will be enough.

It's not enough.

I have to do the thing.

A "Thing" I'm thinking about doing...

Job 6:11 – What strength do I have that I should still have hope?

I unlock the door to my empty house and drop my bags – purse, laptop, lunchbox – in their proper spots after yet another long, unfulfilling day of work. I walk into the kitchen to begin another evening of mindless, draining chores. I unload the dishwasher, my mind filled with thoughts of what else needs to be done before I can crawl into the bed and escape for a few hours. As I am wiping down the cabinet, scrubbing off jelly stains and bread crumbs left from the rapid morning exodus, suddenly I just can’t do it anymore. I leave the jelly rag sitting on the counter and dazedly walk back to my bedroom. I pause, looking at my pretty, made bed with throw pillows built up in mounds upon it. It is my sacred place – the only place where I can escape the monotony of my life. I carefully move just a few of the throw pillows over, crawl beneath the covers, careful to disturb as little of my sacred place as possible. Beneath the heavy comforter and tucked in sheets, overshadowed by the pillow mound, I wish that I could just sink into another world, one that does not look or feel anything like my real world.

I feel as though I will never be able to get up again. I’m so tired. Not physically. Maybe not even mentally. But emotionally and oh yes, spiritually, I am so tired I don’t think I can live one more day of the life that I have somehow ended up with. How different it is than the one I imagined! I was going to do great things. I try to remember what they were but I cannot, or will not, because I don’t really believe in dreams anymore. That’s what it means to be a woman living a grown-up life – you stop believing in dreams and fantasies and get right down to business. Doing the things that need to be done.

I discovered that marriage really isn’t that romantic. And I felt silly for ever believing that it was. I realized that having a baby didn’t make me feel needed or important. And I felt ashamed of myself for buying into such a lie. I found that being a teacher didn’t really change the lives of children – it just helped them pass tests. And I was angry that anyone ever let me believe I could make a difference. So now I don’t believe anymore. I just live. And I try to be kind to people. And take good care of my family. And laugh when I can.

But I’m so tired of living without hope. I miss dreaming. But I can’t risk it – because when it doesn’t come true, I will find myself broken beyond repair. Numb is better than broken, I think. What strength do I have that I should still have hope?


Have you been here? You, no doubt, had different hopes and dreams that were dashed by reality, but have you been here? Feeling so hopeless that you don’t think you can take another emotional step forward? Maybe not outwardly. You still read your Bible and pray and raise your hands in worship and believe in Jesus. But inwardly – in YOUR sacred place, have you felt the panic of hopelessness? Have you thought, is this REALLY all there is to life? Well, sister, if you have been here, I have spectacular news! I know someone who IS Hope – His very presence breeds and strengthens that feeling you had as a little girl – the feeling, no the unfaltering belief, that someday you would be spectacularly swept off your feet and whisked away to a beautiful castle where you would do things and live a life that mattered. There is hope! Join me on the journey as we discover how to attain and retain that hope.


This is the opening for a "thing" I'm thinking about doing. Is it enticing?

Nasty Gravy and the Ugly Cry

Today I got up extra early to sear a roast, slice up potatoes and carrots, and get it all in the oven so it could cook while we were at church. Well, all of that went very well. I was even ready before Preacher Man, which NEVER happens. So we attended church, which for me is crazy hectic since I work in the preschool area and people believe that we don't ACTUALLY need adults to volunteer to keep the children. They really just take care of themselves. [dripping with sarcasm] Anyway, so we made it through church and then had to wait for 45 min after the service while Preacher Man counseled because my husband speaks three languages and is extremely dedicated to what he does [not a bad thing unless you have a roast in the oven]. By the time we left I was a little grumpy/sad. Partly because our pastor told a story about dancing with his little girl, which made me miss my Daddy/cry [who is still alive but lives far away from me] and partly because Preacher Man is so dern dedicated to his job. Preacher Man, however, was in a rather yippy skippy mood and chatted my ears off all the way home. This equaled me being more grumpy.

So, we got home and the house smelled delicious and I thought, "Okay, maybe it didn't burn. Maybe it's a miracle." I opened the oven and pulled out the pot...wrong. Okay, well it didn't exactly burn but there were no more juices left and the potatoes and carrots were stuck to the bottom. You just know looking at such a scene that the roast itself is going to be somewhat lacking. So, I tried to SCRAPE some of the drippings off of the bottom of the pan and combine it with a little flour water in an effort to make some sort of gravy. In order to cover the burnt taste, I had to add A LOT of flour water. So it turned out tasting mostly just like flour. So then I had to add a lot of salt, pepper, and garlic powder, which made it taste like seasoned flour.

As I was doing all of this, I burnt my left thumb on the lid of the pot because I somehow forgot that it was in the oven for 3 hours. "Shit" is what I said. But it wasn't a bad burn, just enough to make me even more grumpy. [Stir, stir, stir] Preacher Man entered and started making the broccoli. I grabbed the handle of the pot with my right hand...same hot pot. Same burn but on my right thumb this time and significantly more painful. "Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIIIIITTT!" is what I yelled this time, holding my burning thumbs up in the air. Then my face got all squinched up and I started to cry. Ugly cry, that is. Still holding my thumbs in the air. Like a double thumbs up. Preacher Man just stood there hugging me...I mean really, what else could he do? I dried it up after a while, ran my thumbs under cold water, and finished the nasty gravy. Preacher Man fixed the rice and the broccoli and we ate our below average roast dinner in silence.

In case you have ever wondered if any one else has these kinds of days.

Back to Louisiana

"Well, how was your trip home?"

I've gotten that a lot this week - because I went back to Louisiana for my little sister's wedding. The thing is, that's a difficult question to answer. Here's the best I've come up with, "Oh, ya know, it was good. Typical family stuff. I love 'em. I would literally lay in front of a bus for any one of 'em. But honestly, some days they make me WANT to lay in front of a bus [mostly just kidding about that]. But it was good [smiley, rambly me says as I nod my head]."

It turns out that going back "home" after creating my own "home" with Preacher Man is tricky business. Things just aren't quite the same. I built this trip up in my head. It was going to be filled with laughter and ease and lounging by the pool in the evenings. With afternoon tea and light hearted sarcasm and plenty of dancing. Well as a result of the intense wedding planning that was happening, there was only some laughter, not much ease, and no lounging due to the stampede of mosquitos that happened at sunset. There was afternoon tea, not-so-lighthearted sarcasm and well, there was still dancing...we maintained the most important things.

In the end, though, my sister got married. And she was beautiful. I cried. It all changes when you get married. There is a shift in the family dynamic. God made it that way but when your original family is as great as ours, it's hard not to mourn the shift.

My sister got married and I got a taste of my old "home". And actually missed my new "home". The one that happens with Preacher Man and Belle. And it was good. Really good all around because good, bad, or ugly - my family is mine. And I will take you down if you hurt them. And although transitions are not my favorite things, God walks with me through them in such a way that I find myself enjoying the newness before I even realize it. And THAT is one of the many reasons why He is DA MAN!

The Grey T

I step out into the thick air and just stop to breathe it in. I glance around at the familiar surroundings - the old tree house that I've never set foot in because my family didn't move here until I was in college. Looking at that tree house now, I kinda wish I had seen the inside of it. I make a mental note: Check out the tree house later. The tapping of my blue tennis shoes on the driveway mingled with the sounds of the dead end by our house - birds chirping, the wind casually moving through the trees, cars distantly speeding down Jackson Street - fill me up like a breath of Spring air after a long stint in a dark closet. I reach down to touch my toes, slowly, letting my body get ready for the run, letting my thoughts drift to no place in particular. It's been so long since I have released my notions, giving them freedom to roam and roll and stretch. I can do that here, where I always feel safe and comfortable.

I take a sharp right out of the driveway, walking to the next turn, letting my legs get used to the movement. At the corner, I begin to jog. I decided to leave my iPod behind today - just to be alone with my thoughts and the streets that are sprinkled and even scarred with the memories of my childhood. I can't help but notice again, as I do every time I travel down this street, that it is the dwelling place of cats and kids. That's what I call it - the cats and kids street. It all makes me smile. The cats. The kids. The way I have named it my own name.

I begin to think about why my heart feels so full, so at rest when I am here. In the town I grew up in. I'm not the same me I was when I lived here. I'm a new me with parts of the old me still lingering and implanted but even the new me loves to be here. Somehow my thoughts drift or tiptoe or lumber, to the t-shirt I'm wearing. How it's old and soft and my favorite of all the t-shirts in the world. In true favorite old t-shirt form, it hugs me in all of the right places and floats freely in all of the right places. When I wear it I feel perfectly, simultaneously comfortable and confident. That's sort of what's it's like running down these streets. Seeing all of the old homes we lived in [we moved a lot but always stayed in the same neighborhood]. Like slipping into my oldest, most favorite t-shirt. Comfortable and confident - I don't feel both of those things at the same time anywhere else in the world. And here, today I get to slip into that old gray T [both physically and metaphorically] and run until my mind doesn't feel so cluttered and clogged anymore.

In my thoughts, I am running down this street away from a barking dog. My little sister is jumping on my back, nearly tackling me to the ground. We are both screaming and laughing in a terrified sort of way. I begin to laugh out loud. I have to slow to a walk for a little while - laughing and running are not good partners. I catch my breath as I reach the back street. Beside the field. And I have to stop for just a moment to admire the field. It's not really anything special, but it's my field. Well mine and my sister's and my brother's, too. And we grew up in the city so this was the closest thing to the great, wide countryside we ever tasted. And we felt like great explorers in that field with the river [which was actually just a drainage ditch] and the forest [which was actually just a cluster of trees that had not yet been cleared out to make more room for developments] and the wildflowers and tall grasses [which were real]. And standing there, I want so desperately to recapture some of the magic that made us believe. Made us dream. Made us hope so unabashedly.

I begin to run again, this time harder and faster, hoping to completely clear my mind of all thought. I run and run and run, begging my brain to stop. And after a while it does, and I feel free of all that apprehension and anger and hopelessness that I am plagued with most of the time. And as I round the corner and make my way back home, I realize that I am exhausted, but that after all that fighting [which is essentially what all the running was], I feel like I have reclaimed a little bit of hope. And with that a hope, a little of my ability to dream. And I think that maybe I'll start to believe again - believe that dreams really can come true. The new me steps in and makes note that they can but they don't always, and the old me feels okay with that. And the new me and the old me shake hands. They don't hug yet but maybe someday they will. And someday maybe, just maybe, I'll learn to intermingle and intertwine the me's in such a way that there is no difference between the two. Maybe someday. But today this is enough.

I tap back up the driveway in my blue tennis shoes and climb up into the tree house I've never seen the inside of. Because it looks like it was probably built for catching your breath and possibly even for dreaming big.

Follow up...

Thank you for those of you who responded! I love to hear what you have to say...your words bring so much insight to my own thoughts and reflections. So, if you didn't get to respond, do it now! Also, I'm going to get better at writing [hopefully, fingers crossed, eyes squinched] daily. I think maybe that's why responses have trailed off - because I haven't been as faithful in writing. Welp, here are my thoughts on my statement...written right to Jesus, because He deserves to hear how I feel about Him.

Your love beckons me to obedience.

Psalm 139:1-14

I love to spend time marveling at and reflecting on the goodness and the sweetness of your love. I am amazed - when I am most aware of how great and perfect your love for me is, I am most called to obedience. When I become instensely aware of how you see me [and you REALLY see me] - pure and holy and beautiful - I am most humbled. That's the magic of your love, Jesus. Instead of puffing me up, it causes me to fall to my knees in absolute submission. The more secure I become in the freedom of your grace and your mercy, the more I desire to walk in absolute obedience. Your love is overwhelming me. Oh the magic of your love - it's almost more than I can stand.

I'm Not Dead

Even though it appears that I have crawled off and died, I am in fact still living. Maybe just in mind and body...notsomuch in spirit. It's been a helluva few weeks, if I'm being completely honest. I don't even know why exactly other than work's been kinda stressful, home's been kinda draining, and the worst parts of me have been fighting hard to surface.

I attended a Women's Retreat with my church last weekend. I was NOT pumped about going at first because it's one of those things where you signed up to go because you knew you prolly should go but when it came right down to it you didn't want to put forth the effort to be nice to a bunch of people you didn't know. Well, I paid like a gajillion dollars to attend the thing, so I went and when I arrived at the nicest hotel I've stayed in since I married the man who doesn't value soft, clean sheets the way that I do, I felt that things were looking up. So, I got there early and asked that God would help me make some friends and if He decided not to do that, could He pretty please make me feel so comfortable in His arms that I didn't need to feel comfortable with a "group"?

Side note: When I go to women's conferences where I don't really know anyone - ya know, no safety zone - I always feel like I turn back into the 9th grade version of myself. Please like me. Am I wearing the right thing? Was that funny? Please like me. I don't really like you but I don't want you to think I don't like you because I want you to like me. I hate that I'm capable to reverting back to 9th grade me. I'm 25 for Pete's sake.

Well anyway, in worship on Friday night this phrase kept popping into my head. So, I jotted it down in my journal. "Your love beckons me to obedience." I have lots to say about that statement, but first I would really LOVE to hear what you all have to say about it. I know that some of you are just readers and not contributors. Well, when you think about not responding you just picture me in my cowboy boots stomping around in your head shouting, "Do it! Do it!" [In the least scary way possible, of course. The shouting is a happy, encouraging shouting, really. Picture me doing that. Maybe not stomping but shaking my booty to the left and the right, in rhythm with every syllable. If this whole section weirds you out, just skip over it. If it makes you laugh, you HAVE to contribute your thoughts.]

Ready? Go.

Calling all readers...

I need your help! I've decided to pursue a career in writing. Preferably freelance so that I can eventually work from home...woo woo! So, I have to perfect some pieces to mail in to the big dogs. Pretty please can you tell me what you're very favorite post has been? The one that has touched you in the biggest way. It doesn't matter why - make ya cry, make ya laugh, make ya mad. Anything goes. Tell me which one was your fave and why and you'll be my best friend forever. Really, I have room in my life for A LOT of best friends.

Another meaty post is coming soon. Don't stop visiting!

P.S. Evidently you are a flip flop crew. Flip flops won the prize. Red high heels and comfy but cute flats tied for second.

Retractions and The End Point

I would like to retract any statement that conveys that I think that people from the North or any other part of the world are boring or poopy heads. I've decided that people are people...no matter where they're from. Some are sassy. Some are not, but sassy funness is not restricted to Southern American's. How silly am I?! I would also like to retract the statement I made about not liking my job that much. I've changed my mind [shocker]. I like my job. I might even love it before long. You'll find that I will probably be retracting a lot of statements because this is straight out of my head, which most of the time - okay all of the time - is pitifully imperfect. Please allow me the freedom to retract statements! My blogging future depends on it.

On a completely different note, I was running last night. And the wind was blowing - hard. And I was running against the wind [of course]. I was seriously tired. My legs were burning so bad. I was sweating like crazy [and I'm not really much of a sweater]. And I felt certain that my lungs were going to explode, but I had to reach my end mark. I give myself end marks that I HAVE to run all the way to before I can take a break and walk. I'm a goal setter, which I think I've mentioned before. Well anyway, I started to think about how slowly I was actually running and how I really wasn't covering much ground very quickly. Then, make-things-into-analogies me compared it to my life. Mostly it's in my walk with Jesus. I feel like I'm always running against the current. Always tired. Always feeling the weight of life and then that seeps into every other part of my spiritual self, making me burn and feel like I'm going to explode or implode or something. And I just really want to quit. It's like for a little while the wind stops and I'm just running, rockin' out to my Do It To It music and all the sudden Whoosh! In blows the next LONG gust of wind, pushing against me. Why do I always feel like I'm working hard to keep walking with Jesus? So in the middle of all that pondering, I got sidetracked by all the actual physical pain I was feeling everywhere. The rest of my run was spent convincing myself that I could do it...just make it to your next stop point. You can do this. You've built up your endurance. Keep your eyes on your stop point. Wind or not, you really can do this. Do it. Do it. I cheered me on. Well actually I cheered Belle [who runs with me every day] on because somehow it helps me to encourage someone - or some dog - else. Is that weird?

Well as I pondered this some more today, I began to think about how much the latter part of my thought process [the non-spiritual part] really answers my question. Why do I always feel like I'm working hard to keep walking with Jesus? Well, because it's hard work. It takes me CONSTANTLY fighting for my own joy and my own growth. Albeit I'm actually fighting against my selfish self most of the time, but I still have to fight for it. And it's good that I'm fighting for it because if I wasn't, then I would definitely be getting pretty fat and lazy just sitting around no even thinking about the existence of an end point. AND it actually encourages me to encourage others to reach their end point?! What a novel idea. Encouragement is not my spiritual gift or my any kind of gift for that matter. But I think I'm going to try and do more of it.

And do you know what my end point is [spiritually speaking of course]? It's Jesus, duh! Why is it so easy for me to forget how much I love Him? In my last post I asked if anyone had any good ideas for getting out of the funk and I did partake in the pedicure idea, which was enjoyable. Truth is, though, that I just needed to open my eyes and take another good look at my Jesus. Allow myself to be filled to my toes with His overwhelming love. Because He is powerful! And He's helping me fight...cheering me on...DRAGGING me on when I just think "Seriously, though. I'm done." In church on Sunday, I found myself wanting to stand on my pew grinning [If I was brave enough, I probably would have] and singing the end of that beautiful medley "...Jesus commands my destiny. 'Til He returns or calls me home, Here in the power of Christ I stand!" What a great declaration for us to make!

So, I'm going to keep on running...even if it is uphill, against the wind, and all my limbs feel like they're prolly gonna fall off. Because my end point is so very worth it.

Filler

So, I've decided that I'm really afraid of people who are mourning. Like, I avoid them at all costs. I don't really know what to say to them - at all, and I ALWAYS feel extremely awkward around them. Doesn't that suck? Isn't it kinda immature of me? But the truth is, I haven't experienced a whole lot of loss in my life...so I have no idea how to relate to people who are going through a loss.

It's been a cruddy week. That's why I haven't written much in the past week...I'm slipping into "don't reflect on anything mode". I'm trying to get out of the funk. Any suggestions?

On a more fun note, I've been on a quest to lose 15 lbs. Mostly just because I'm trying to develop some discipline in my life. Welp, I've lost 6...woo, woo! I really am excited about this, but I need to lose the additional 9 in about the next month. I'll keep you updated ;) I love, loved your responses to the 5 Things Challenge!

Also, I've added a poll. I'll post the results soon!

The 5 Things Challenge

Here are 5 little known things about me. I think they each provide a little insight into who I am and prove that I'm a little on the crazy side sometimes ;) I provide not excuses for the things that follow but do ask that you take them for what they are - my true feelings. They are not by any means a reflection of who I SHOULD be but a little piece of who I ACTUALLY AM right now.

1. I am fiercely prideful and protective of where I come from. Since I moved here, I have begun wearing two charms on a chain: a Fleur-De-Lis and a cowboy boot. I don't do it because it's trendy but because it makes me feel like I'm representin' the South, Louisiana in particular, in the middle of a bunch of Yankees and foreigners [no offense to Yankees or foreigners].
2. I'm really, really vain. I'm trying really hard not to be because it kinda makes me sick that I'm so vain, but I am. I was going to type more about this but I'm too embarrassed to tell you what I was really thinking. That's how vain I am.
3. I like to dance...like break it down, can't keep your hips still, be kinda inappropriate dance. I like to do it in bars with friends and as sassily as possible. It's not something I make practice of now, but I'm certainly not opposed to.
4. I semi-secretly love One Tree Hill [season premier is tonight, if you were wondering], Grey's Anatomy, Dawson's Creek, Beverly Hills 90210 [the new one premiers tomorrow night!], and possibly Gossip Girl, which I never claim in public. I'm sort of a TV addict. It's how I escape my own reality, just for a little while.
5. Some days I wake up and think, "I could seriously use a new life." The past several days have been "need a new life" days. Not for any specific reason...just feeling like I need a little more adventure, a little more passion, a little more spontaneity, a little more rebellion. I hate the rebel in me. I wish I could just enjoy being a "good girl". I don't, though. Not all of the time, anyway. But, because I have the Holy Spirit, which I'm grateful for, I suppress the rebel in me for the most part. I'm trying to figure out how to harness that rebel and train her to do great things...be rebellious in all the right ways, ya know?

Now it's your turn. I challenge you to tell us all 5 little known things about yourself. Remember, you can keep it completely anonymous if you want. It's kinda freeing if I do say so myself.

Beachin'

We went to the beach yesterday. I experimented more with my camera but since it is a moldy, oldy 35mm, I cannot post them until I finish a whole roll. I will try and finish the roll soon. Anyway...we only live an hour from the nearest beach, which is pretty great. Yesterday was our first day at the beach since we moved here, which is pretty stupid. But we did finally make a day of it, and it was spectacular.

I love the beach. Really, really. Intensely blue skies. Blindingly white sands speckled with rainbow colored towels and umbrellas and half naked bodies. The sound of the water crashing against the shore, sometimes with great force, sometimes softly lapping, always calming the spirit and clearing the mind.

I finally caught up on the June, July, and August issues of Southern Living. Rocked out my cowboy hat. And worked on beefing up my tan. Beyond that, I enjoyed myself some serious people watching. I love to people watch. I'm an observer - hard core. I'm always amazed that amongst that great diversity of humanity, there is a certain sameness, too. We all really just want someone to relate to. Someone who will validate us, validate what we feel and think and do.

There was this one couple with a little two year old girl sitting in front of us. They hauled all of their stuff in [the dad had to make two trips to the van to get it all] and got settled in. He popped open a can of beer and made me secretly wish for one of those little mini bottled margaritas. You could tell they were one of those "we're really comfortable with each other and not so caught up in our child that we don't have adult conversation anymore" couples. Not that I'm hating on couples who don't have time to have adult conversation anymore. I will not even pretend to know anything about being a good parent AND a good spouse. It kinda makes me tired just to think about it.

Anyway, a little while later, this other dad, a very largely pregnant mom and their 3 kids plop their stuff down on the other side of beer drinking dad and his fam. You can hear their thick Southern drawls immediately. I smile at that sound. Dad and the kiddos run down to the water within about 2.5 seconds. [Speaking of men being one of the kids, Preacher Man spent an hour or so making the perfect sand castle. He makes me laugh.] Mom is left alone to figure out how to get sunscreen on her back. [This whole time I'm laying on my stomach in an effort to even out my tan. I tend to only worry about the front of my body because it's the only part I can see. Stupid, I know, but that is real life for me. All that to say, I was in a prime observing position without anyone knowing I was observing] So you can see this mom contemplating how she was going to get sunscreen on her back, and I'm almost ready to get up and ask her if she needs help when she walks over to the beer drinking dad's wife and says in the thickest of thick southern drawls, "I know you're gonna think I'm crazy, but can you get my back? I just don't think I can waddle all the way down to the water to get my husband to do it." Hahahaha! I wanted to get up and give her a big hug. Turns out they were from Tennessee and their little girl ended up coming back and talking the young couple's ears off...seriously for like 30 minutes. I got so tickled at her thick little accent, asking them all sorts of questions, telling them all about her family's vacation experiences.

If only we could all feel that free and uninhibited. I think life would be a lot more fun :) It was a good day. A really good day.

Warning: Mushy Love Stuff to Follow

I really just need to take a moment to gush about Preacher Man because I don't think I do it out loud to other people enough. I'm really crazy about him. He's my high school sweetheart. We literally grew up together. And still he finds ways to challenge me - rarely in an "in your face" sort of way because he just doesn't work that way and he knows me well enough to know that I REALLY don't work that way. Mostly it's just in the way he lives his life. He is solid. And unwavering. And kind. And yesterday when I was crying over things that really aren't life altering, he didn't downplay my pain. He just loved me and said he was sorry and let me mourn for a little while.


I love to listen to him interacting with his friends. He doesn't give advice unless it's asked for, but the advice he gives is good and solid. He loves them all unconditionally. They love that about him, too.

Right now he's in the kitchen doing the dishes. He does half of the house work since I work full time, and he doesn't complain about it...or he rarely complains about it. He's still human, people. Don't go getting the idea that I married THE perfect man or that I have THE perfect marriage. You would be soooo wrong if you got that idea.

But good grief the man is a beautiful piece of work, with eyes that still give me butterflies and kisses that, even after all these years, I can feel all the way to my toes. In fact, I think I'll go see if I can partake in a little of that right now ;) Talk to you peeps lata.

Big Girl Panties

It's been one of those days. A why me kind of day. So, because this is my blog and I can, I'm going to take the next few lines to talk a little about my why me's.

Why is it that I want a baby so badly but God has not made Preacher Man want one just as badly? I mean, I held a baby today and my heart literally ached as he laid his sweet little head on my shoulder. I have been patient. Or at least I have tried to be patient...for more than a year. And Preacher Man doesn't think a year is a long time to wait for something. I say to him, what if I made you wait a whole year to even attempt to do something that you KNOW you were created to do [be a mom. not make the baby]?

Why is it that some people get to live their whole lives near the people they love the most? I mean, God doesn't always call people to move across the country to a place that doesn't even resemble home. Was it really necessary that I be one of those that he called away? My sister is getting married. And I'm missing everything. And she deserves to have her sister at all her showers. And at her bridal shoot to do her make-up. And just plain there to go with her to Shreveport to find a dress for the rehearsal dinner. Or take care of the flowers because she so desperately doesn't want to have to deal with it. And my Mama should have me there to help her prepare for a gajillion guests to be in her home. And I should be able to get to my best friend's house and take care of her little boy, or take care of her, or both of them for a weekend because being a first time mom is hard. And someday, when Preacher Man finally gives in or [preferably] gets excited about having a baby - they should all be able to be there...without having to spend their life savings just to get to me.

Why is it that, 3 years out of college, I still have to work outside the home doing something that is by no means a miserable job but at the same time doesn't excite me? I mean, I'm trying real hard to find a way to contribute to the income AND stay at home so that I can keep a clean house and cook and just be available to my husband. Still, so far nothing.

Why is it that in less than a year we are back to square one? Not a clue where we'll go or what we'll do? No home. No furniture. No plan. I thrive on plans...one of my coolest traits.

All of that being said...as a follower of Christ, I have been called to higher living. To greater sacrifice.

But you are a CHOSEN RACE, a royal PRIESTHOOD, A HOLY NATION, A PEOPLE FOR GOD'S OWN POSSESSION...why?...that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness in His marvelous light; for you once were NOT A PEOPLE, but now you are THE PEOPLE OF GOD; you had NOT RECEIVED MERCY, but now you have RECEIVED MERCY.

For this find favor, if for the sake of conscience toward God a man bears up under sorrows when suffering unjustly. For what credit is there if, when you sin and are harshly treated, you endure it with patience? But when you do what is right and suffer for it you patiently endure it, this finds favor with God.

1 Peter 2. Read it. So good!

Bottom line. I am definitely a recipient of God's infinite mercy. I am chosen and holy. Why? The why is where it gets a little bit harder, because it's not about me. Why? So that I can proclaim the excellencies of my Jesus. My God. And you know what? When I am suffering because of my obedience to my Father [no matter how small that suffering may seem to others who have, no doubt, endured much more difficult trials than I] AND PATIENTLY enduring that [ick!], I find favor with God.

And you know what else? Today, when my Jesus saw me laying on my bed, crying because sometimes it all just hurts that much, He was/is sitting at the right hand of God praying for me. [Romans 8:34, Hebrews 7:25] I believe that He loves me that much. And I also believe that He fully expects me to live a called out kind of life, even [and maybe even especially] when it hurts to do so.

So this is me wrapping up my whining and putting on my big girl panties. Because no big girl panties = no favor with God. And I seriously want to find all kinds of favor with the Beginning and the End.

For those of you who made it through this entire post, you deserve a prize. Seriously.

The post that needs a disclaimer...

EDIT: Let me apologize for the "cheerleader on crack" comment. I did not mean it to sound hostile or condescending. It was mostly just a joke but really not any nicer than saying that I sound like a dumb idiot. So, that's that. I just wanted to set the record straight.


Disclaimer: This is the post of randomness. Be prepared for an excessively incoherent string of thoughts.

Baby, baby, I'm taken with the notion. To love you with the sweetest of devotion. Baby, baby my tender love will flow from the bluest sky to the deepest ocean. Baby, baby I'm so glad you're mine. -Amy Grant [Currently listening to "Throwback" play list...because sometimes nothing gets it done quite like the oldies]

In this new city I live in, things have been a little wet for the past week. By a little I mean, like woah wet. So, I've been rockin' my AMAZING rain boots. I have gotten a wide array of responses. Everything from strangers saying, "Cute boots. I mean seriously, really great boots!" to no words necessary looks that say, "Girl, I know you didn't," or "You think you are so cool wearing those boots." Here's what I'm noticing about this strange city: It's a crazy hodge podge of cultures, the minority being Deep Southerners. I haven't really been out of the Deep South within the good ole US of A, but as far as I can tell - lots of other parts of the country are not crazy about loud colors or sassy fashion statements. It's like people can't believe I have the nerve to wear something so very attention-getting. Why not? I say. I balanced it out with fairly non-attention-getting clothes, and it's not like I have "Juicy" plastered across my butt. It's just my feet, people! Sheesh!

I also feel that I should wear a T-shirt at all times that says, "Just because I talk slow don't mean I'm stupid." [name that movie] I cannot and do not want to help that I say "ah" instead of "I" or "Mama" instead of "Mom" or that I don't have any one syllable words in my spoken vocabulary. So, don't look at me like I'm crazy when I say "Ha" [as in hat with no "t"]. I don't look at you funny even though I could because you seriously talk like a cheerleader on speed.

A few housekeeping details:
Please offer your thoughts on any and all of these little posts of mine. I want to hear about your life - if something I said spoke to you or if you feel that you might have something to say that would speak to me, or just something quirky or funny to share with me! Occasionally I'll compile my favorite responses and post them for all to read [with your permission of course]. I have now changed the settings so that you can post anonymously if you want to - without creating an entire Google account. Sorry, Georgia Peach! If you want to respond in a more private way, via email, feel free to email me at southerndrawlin@gmail.com. The name that you will see associated with that account is not my real name, just so you know. I have decided that there is freedom [for all of us] in anonymity. The purpose of the blog is to find comfort and solace in knowing that there are other women out there who sometimes feel like they are literally losing their minds. Who sometimes wonder what it would have been like to marry that other guy they dated [which I have done but always end up VERY glad that Preacher Man saved me from that fate]. Who occasionally just want a good strong dose of margs, cigs, and Jesus. Who are trying to figure out how they can maintain their sassiness and still love Jesus the way He has called them to. Who aren't really sure how to cope with and even more importantly, enjoy, the hand they've been dealt. I don't think we need to know my real name to be able to do that. Whether or not you choose to reveal your true identity is totally up to you.

So...that's the deal. Responses pleeeease!! I want to hear from you!

Peace out.
[I thought about erasing that but it really is what I thought even though I'm not nearly cool enough to pull it off. Laugh if you must.]

Perfume, Hair, and Feet

It's funny. A year and a half ago I didn't want anything to do with God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit. Being in church literally nauseated me. Seeing others worshiping in love made me want scream. The Bible was empty and void of all meaning to me. I was living in hopelessness and desolation. I didn't like my husband. I didn't like my job. I didn't like my life in general. Satan had convinced me that God was big and mean and he was beginning to convince me that Christianity was all a big fat show.

It really wasn't funny at all.

Then I found Him. He didn't find me. He didn't have to. He never lost me. First in little pieces. A verse actually touched my heart. Worship here and there wasn't so awful. But the breakthrough came when I began to believe in the power of the very name of Jesus. When I began to believe that He was real and active and moving in my life. When I opened my eyes and saw him hovering around me - protecting me, loving me, seeing all of me, even the most grotesque corners of my soul that no one [not even Preacher Man] was or is to this day aware of, and loving me so completely through it all. When I accepted the power the Holy Spirit offered me to stand up and say, "Enough is enough. This is my home, and my life, and my heart, and my marriage. And I WILL live completely in the power and freedom of Christ because I can...because through it all He has guaranteed me that much."

Then I began to slip again, falling back into my old selfishness - my wallowing. And someone asked me what I was so angry about and maybe I should tell God about it instead of blaming everyone else for it. So I did. I was comfortable enough with Him by then. I yelled and cried and rolled around on my bed and cried for a good 3 hours. I told him all about how sad it made me that my life didn't look anything like I wanted it to. How I didn't want to be a preacher's wife. How I thought it was stupid that He was making me. How I was tired of making sacrifices - of sacrificing everything I wanted. And I was tired of feeling guilty for throwing such a fit about something that seemed so little compared to what others around me were going through.

He spoke softly, gently showing me what He knew I would never see if it was thrown in my face. Reconciliation not condemnation. That's what conviction was for. Bending of the knees...I physically had to get on my knees before Him to really understand the freedom that was granted me in exchange for my submission. Beautiful reconciliation. Then He made me fall in love with Him, made me long to know more about Him, made me want to sleep with His Word because I ached so deeply for the power it secreted. He showed me truths. Truths that I will never again question - because He showed me. And they are real in my heart and in my life.

I am so far from perfect. And I don't read my Bible every day. And I don't pray like I should. And I'm humiliatingly self-consumed. But I love my Jesus. And I have tasted the kindness of the Lord. And someday I will gladly bow at his feet. And I will take my hair and the most beautiful perfume heaven has to offer and wash those beautiful, beautiful feet. Because I really do love my Jesus that much. And I am so excited to know that I will learn to love Him even more.

The Dream

My two favorite Southern movies of all time: Hope Floats and Sweet Home Alabama. Dances and live bands at the town square. Beautiful southern men managing to be manly as heck and at the same time helpin' women find themsleves. Sassy southern women rockin' out cute dresses and totally sexy cowboy boots. I want to live there.

My favorite TV show of all time: FRIENDS. Friends that are more like family than friends. Ya know? Walk into their house without knocking, drink all their Dr. Peppers, have boy/girl sleepovers, play games until 2 in the morning, laugh with, cry with, be a total butt face to and they still like you kind of friends. Is that real life for anyone? Or is it just one of those myths that TV makes you believe?

That's my dream, I think - to have FRIENDS-like friends in a town square dance havin' town and all the while rock out my totally sexy cowboy boots with my even cuter dress...and let my beautiful [becuase he is] Preacher Man help me find myself right into the sunset. Would anyone like to join me?




Afterthought: Do you sometimes think that there will be a time when you look back on certain thoughts, dreams, or wishes and think how silly they were? I think maybe this post will qualify for some of that silliness. It's fun to be silly every once in a while, though, right?

[deep breath. big gulp]

Do you ever just stop and think, "Wow. I am really selfish"? That happened me last night and continued on into today. It's been really fun.

Last night, Preacher Man and myself watched Dan in Real Life. Great movie, by the way. Very quirky. Like me. I think we're all kinda quirky if we really let it all hang out. Anyway, afterwards I was feeling very snuggly, so I scooted over to the other couch to love on Preacher Man. After a few seconds of my cuddling, he said, "You haven't been sweet to me like this in a long time." Talk about punch in the gut. He wasn't trying to make me feel bad...he was just noticing. Well this caused me to fling myself into a "I'm a really poopy wife" thought procecss.

I am so deeply self-consumed. It's embarassing, really. And it's really, really, really hard to fix, because you start thinking about yourself and how you can be better and so when you do what you think will make you better and less selfish, you give yourself an imaginary pat on the back. Wait. Then I'm still thinking about me and how great I am. Vicious cycle, I say. Very vicious. How do I escape the viciousness? Well there it is...I cannot escape it.

God is funny, you know? He's always giving us problems that we can't fix. He can fix them, no biggy, but we haven't got a chance. Pride. Joylessness. Fear. Financial "We're gonna have to live on the street"-ness. Letting go of dreams and expectations. The list goes on forever. We have no hope of fixing any of those things by completing a "To Do" list. That's my favorite thing to do, by the way, finish a To Do list. I'm really cool like that.

So after all of the reflecting on how selfish I am, which really just makes me more selfish, I decided to go to the WORD. That really is the best thing, even though I haven't even opened that spectacular, power-oozing book in a few weeks. Not only do I love cool To Do lists, I'm really smart, too [dripping with sarcasm]. There is wisdom and clarity there when my thoughts are bouncing around in a million different directions. I'm studying 1 Peter. It was supposed to be a 12 week study. I think I've been working on it for like 5 months. Discipline...it's my middle name. Anyway, Ole Pete is pretty great. You should check him out if you never have. I was studying 1 Peter 1:22-25 and then cross referencing it with some stuff in 1 John [it's a Kay Arthur study]. It's talking about being born again and how once you have been born again, the Holy Spirit protects you from your own stupidity and how He fills you with this great amount of love for your brothers - and how when the Spirit dwells within you [post being born again] there will be conviction. You will be made aware of sin, sin that keeps us from growing closer to our Father! Yay Holy Spirit! Yay for being born again! Bottom line...I'm off the hook becuase I have someone dwelling within me who will continuously push me and pursue me and help me move past my selfishness. I have to be cooperative in order for the growth to happen, but He will not just leave me to wallow in my icky self-involvement...whatever that looks like at the moment. So, in the end I'm kinda glad that I am feeling bad about my selfishness. That means the good ole HS is moving and working. So, I say, "Do your thing, HS. [deep breath. big gulp] I'm ready."

I hope this made sense. Sometimes my thought process is hard to follow.

Renaissance Woman...buh buh buh!

Okay, so I'm trying really hard to be a renaissance woman...which, if you get right down to it, I think qualifies all women from all eras. It's like we were made to be good at a gajillion different things...and I think THAT is probably more out of necessity than just because we want to.

I have recently made it through quite the poopy time in my life [i'm sure there will be more details to come] but as part of my healing process, I decided to pursue things. Like, whatever I want. I am like a super-pleaser, over-acheiver kind of gal who disguises herself as a "I don't need you to like me" kind of gal. That sucks. So, I'm trying to find the balance. All that to say, I don't usually try things unless I think I can be really good at them. Again, that sucks. Sooo, I decided to start learning to do whatever I feel like learning to do. I think photography is such a cool hobby. Currently, it's like the super cool, you're artsy and reflective and creative if you do it hobby, which really bugs my sister. We'll call her "Photography Queen [P.Q. for short]" because she is. She makes money taking pictures. She actually is artsy and reflective and creative. "But P.Q.," I say to her, "I really do like pictures. And I really do have a cool camera. And I think that we all like photography so much because we're fascinated with capturing God's fantastic creation."

Anyway, I have this really great camera. Granted, it's a moldy, oldy 35mm, but it's still fancy and takes beautiful pictures. I've had it for like 6 years and have never learned how to use it. I began to feel sorry for it...made for greatness and wasted on mediocre snapshots. Today I researched...learned a little about aperture, tried it out. These are the products. Keep in mind that I'm learning.

This is Belle - as in Southern, but Preacher Man thinks it's as in ...and the Beast. She is the best dog ever. She is my make-shift child. I'm sorry if you think that's pathetic. Truth be known, I think it's a little pathetic, too, but we're trying to be real here. In the first set of Belle photos, I have placed a treat upon the floor and commanded her to stay. Again, best dog ever. It's a low vs. high aperture set. I would say the top is muuuch better, right?


The following are more low vs. high ap Belle pics [I'll bet P.Q. would think I sounded really dorky b/c real photgraphers don't use terms like that]. Isn't she beautiful? The first is low ap, the second is high. Sadly, it's the only high ap that looked even a little displayable. High ap, evidently, is better for capturing details all across the board, FYI.





This is my Nana's ivy. Try and ignore the dead leaf. Actually, all the leaves should look like that. Mostly I ignore it. Anyway, the picture's kinda pretty, I think. Another low ap...sadly I don't really have a wide landscape to put a large ap to good use. Wah, wah. We'll have to save that for another time.

Hey ya'll!

I'm a Louisiana girl with more southern sass than I know what to do with most of the time. I love Jesus and the Deep South. If I could, I would pour them both in a bottle and gulp them down like an ice cold sweet tea on a sweltering summer day. Louisiana has always been home for me, and I'm pretty sure that will never change, even though I don't actually live there anymore. That brings me to Jesus - He's the reason I don't live there anymore. My husband [we'll call him "Preacher Man"] and I followed His guidance half way across the country, and I must say that He has proven faithful amidst the scariness of obedience. I love Him alot, but fall short of showing Him pretty much daily.

That's sort of what this blog is all about. It's an experiment of sorts, for anyone who wants to get right down to being real about life. Broken dreams, broken hearts, and broken people are all welcome. In referene to "keepin' it real", one of my dearest friends once said, "I just want to pack up all of my 'real' friends and take them to the beach where we'll drink margaritas, smoke cigarettes, and talk about Jesus the whole time." That statement inspired me to make every effort to keep it real all the dern time. Here it is...me. Keepin' it down and dirty, make ya' ugly cry...and laugh, make ya want to yell at God and then get down on your knees and praise Jesus, real.

I hope you'll join me in this little experiment of mine.