The only thing I can do is laugh at myself. I'm talking, full out LAUGH at myself....as in if someone had drove by my car at this exact moment, they would have been dumbfounded to find a woman in the car by herself, laughing hysterically at herself.
I found myself in a familiar neighborhood today. I had to drive my car over to the friend of my mom's who fixes my poor car...unfortunately it's become a bit of a routine. But the ol' girl is 12 years old....my car, not my mom. So she needs alot of work.
The mechanic lives in Dawson. It's my old stomping ground. It's where my family and I first lived when we moved to Tulsa. It's where I went to middle school, where our first church was located....I have a lot of memories from the old hood. And I do mean HOOD.
So I was driving down Tecumseh road, listening to Lady Antebellum on my iPhone, and remembering what business used to be in what grimey, old storefront, now run down and vacant. All of a sudden, I heard a trumpet. I looked down at my phone and realized there is no trumpet sound in "Love's Lookin' Good on You." The trumpet sounded again. It was at that moment that it hit me....it was the sounding of the trumpet and the rapture was taking place!!! It's amazing the number of thoughts that can zip through your mind in a matter of seconds. I have included these thoughts for you:
- It's the trumpet!
- I'm goin' home!
- Ohmygosh, I don't need to fix my car anymore!
- Grandpa!
- Grandma MacKinney
- My car is going to crash when I disappear, I'm glad the road is empty!
- It's really happening!
- I can actually hear the trumpet!
- Wait! I didn't get to get married.....again!
- No more bills!!!
- I wonder when I begin to levitate!
Now, I was excited. I thought I'd be scared. But I totally wasn't! The trumpet sounded a third time and I realized one small, important fact. It sounded a little like a train's whistle. Then I instantly remembered where I was. On Tecumseh Road, in north Tulsa, right next to train tracks.
Darn. This meant I still had to take my car to get fixed. AND pay for it.
At least I know I'm ready for the rapture!!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A Stroll Through the Past
I've become a walker. I don't really know how or when this happened, but I no longer argue with myself about getting out and exercising. Maybe those endorphins that are supposed to kick in when you exercise have finally started kicking in. It makes me feel better and lo and behold, I have the ability to walk three miles, in one session. I honestly don't think I've walked that much before. Ever. I kinda feel like Wonder Woman.
I've started walking down Main Street in my little town. I love looking at all the items in the various windows. I love adding one more block to my journey each time I walk. Eventually I hope to become a jogger. Baby steps.....
Today, as I was nearing the end of my walk, I came upon the Yesterday and Today Antique Market. Really, it's lots of old junk from various people and takes up something like four storefronts. I decided on a whim to go in and look around. I'm so glad I did.
I began to find things from my past that I hadn't seen in YEARS! I picked up several Camp Snoopy drinking glasses that were a main staple in the Menahga house cabinets. It made me smile. I vowed that if I came across a SHAZAM! drinking glass, I would buy it on the spot. No such luck.
I found a german beer stein, and it made me tear up. My grandparents had german beer steins in their china cabinet. Let me preface this by saying these were never used....they were only for decoration. Because of course, let's face it....if anyone in our family were caught drinking a sip of beer when Jesus came back then we would surely and most definitely miss the rapture. ;0) I'm not sure where my grandmother got the beer steins, but I will never forget what they look like. And today, I saw one.
An old CB radio reminded me of the long road trip from Chicago to Myrtle Beach that we took in a yellow car. My Dad and his brothers thought it would be fun to communicate via CBs while traveling. All I remember hearing are some unknown words come over the air from a scruffy sounding trucker, which preceeded my mother yelling at my father to turn the channel.
I began to realize that all these items that I recognized from my childhood, probably belonged to someone much like my grandmother. I saw her in every flea market cubby today.....I was reminded of her blue house salt and pepper shakers, although the ones I saw were brown. I recalled that delicious cheese spread could be found in small brown or blue crocks....the crocks were there minus the cheese.
And the coffee mugs were numerous. I'm actually going back there tomorrow to buy one. I think I've become a woman who likes interesting coffee mugs....mugs that make me say "whaaaaaat??" out loud in a store. I have a vision of every member of my family having their own, favorite coffee mug when they come to my house. And they're all different, and the weird mugs make their drinkers smile.
I had so much fun weaving in and out of the aisles. It reminded me of my childhood, my grandparents house, the lake house in Menahga, aunts and uncles, long road trips.....and family. It was like spending an afternoon with my extended family.
Thumbs up for spontaneous junk store outings.
I've started walking down Main Street in my little town. I love looking at all the items in the various windows. I love adding one more block to my journey each time I walk. Eventually I hope to become a jogger. Baby steps.....
Today, as I was nearing the end of my walk, I came upon the Yesterday and Today Antique Market. Really, it's lots of old junk from various people and takes up something like four storefronts. I decided on a whim to go in and look around. I'm so glad I did.
I began to find things from my past that I hadn't seen in YEARS! I picked up several Camp Snoopy drinking glasses that were a main staple in the Menahga house cabinets. It made me smile. I vowed that if I came across a SHAZAM! drinking glass, I would buy it on the spot. No such luck.
I found a german beer stein, and it made me tear up. My grandparents had german beer steins in their china cabinet. Let me preface this by saying these were never used....they were only for decoration. Because of course, let's face it....if anyone in our family were caught drinking a sip of beer when Jesus came back then we would surely and most definitely miss the rapture. ;0) I'm not sure where my grandmother got the beer steins, but I will never forget what they look like. And today, I saw one.
An old CB radio reminded me of the long road trip from Chicago to Myrtle Beach that we took in a yellow car. My Dad and his brothers thought it would be fun to communicate via CBs while traveling. All I remember hearing are some unknown words come over the air from a scruffy sounding trucker, which preceeded my mother yelling at my father to turn the channel.
I began to realize that all these items that I recognized from my childhood, probably belonged to someone much like my grandmother. I saw her in every flea market cubby today.....I was reminded of her blue house salt and pepper shakers, although the ones I saw were brown. I recalled that delicious cheese spread could be found in small brown or blue crocks....the crocks were there minus the cheese.
And the coffee mugs were numerous. I'm actually going back there tomorrow to buy one. I think I've become a woman who likes interesting coffee mugs....mugs that make me say "whaaaaaat??" out loud in a store. I have a vision of every member of my family having their own, favorite coffee mug when they come to my house. And they're all different, and the weird mugs make their drinkers smile.
I had so much fun weaving in and out of the aisles. It reminded me of my childhood, my grandparents house, the lake house in Menahga, aunts and uncles, long road trips.....and family. It was like spending an afternoon with my extended family.
Thumbs up for spontaneous junk store outings.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
The Last B-24
Normally I dread Thursdays. That's the day I'm gone from sun-up until well after sun-down. I have classes from 9am - 3pm, then I go straight to work until 8pm. So you see why Thursdays are not really my most favorite day of the week.
But I was pleasantly surprised this Thursday with my 12:00pm Social Studies for Elementary Students class. My professor stated we were going to have guests in class today. My guess was that it would be a few professors from some random university, observing our class. The two gentlemen who arrived were volunteers from the Tulsa Air and Space Museum. One of them was holding a tan colored item in a plastic bag. My curiosity was definitely peaked (is that correct grammar? I'm gonna go with it anyway). The volunteer docents begin to tell a story to our class that bears repeating.
In Tulsa, Douglas was a defense plant (later changed to McDonnell Douglas, later Boeing). In the 40's this plant built B-24 bombers. In 1945, it was determined that the last B-24 bomber to be built in Tulsa would be built by Douglas employees. Those in charge felt this should be a big deal. They decided that employees could help in the building of this bomber. They set it up so that employees could buy $25 war bonds which would go towards the cost of this plane (about $250,000). There were special rewards for those who bought war bonds. Each person would have the chance to submit a name for the plane, of their choosing. Also, their name went into a pool and one name would be drawn out for a ride in the last B-24 bomber. A man by the last name of Addington, was the winner of the name contest. He chose The Tulsamerican. This plane also had a few extra unplanned upgrades. Each person who bought a war bond signed their name onto a scroll. This scroll was put into a leather bag that was painted with the same nose art as the plane. This leather bag containing all the names of the workers was put under the pilot's seat. Many of the women workers also included some pictures and letters that apparently got the airmen's attention.
After the completion of this plane, it was flown to Europe, in order to receive it's seasoned crew. The newbies who flew it to Europe were possibly a little disgruntled that they would receive an older junker plane to fly into combat instead of the bright, shiny, brand new Tulsamerican.
We can only hypothesize why the pilot took the scroll out from under his seat. Maybe it was that he felt he deserved it or maybe he was afraid it would go down with the plane, when and if it was destroyed in combat (it was later shot down and sank off the coast of Croatia). What we do know, is that this pilot took it, and immediately mailed it to his wife. When the man came home from war, he would keep that leather-surrounded-scroll on top of the refrigerator for the next 70 years.
After the man passed, his son contacted a volunteer at the TASM and promptly put the scroll into a Fedex box and sent it to them.
Through contacts and pure luck, Dr. Wilson my professor, provided a rare opportunity for her small class today. The docents removed the scroll from the leather bag and rolled it out on a long countertop in order for Dr. Judy Moody to scan the scroll so that an electronic copy can be made for display at the museum.
They needed some volunteers to handle the scroll. Well, naturally I snapped some latex gloves on and heartily volunteered.
I looked at the names on this scroll, in such amazing condition it looked as if it were only a few years old instead of almost 70.
The men and women of Tulsa who built the last B-24 bomber for Douglas had pridefully written their names, addresses and department numbers.
I thought of the sacrifice that not only these families made by joining the workforce, but of the sacrifice of the men and women who fought in World War II.
They allowed us to take as many pictures and videos as we wanted.
It was such an amazing opportunity, to be one of the few who will ever touch that scroll.....that scroll that made its way across oceans and lived through a time that many men and women didn't.
I stood in patriotic awe and such gratefulness.
It was definitely one of the best days of school ever!
But I was pleasantly surprised this Thursday with my 12:00pm Social Studies for Elementary Students class. My professor stated we were going to have guests in class today. My guess was that it would be a few professors from some random university, observing our class. The two gentlemen who arrived were volunteers from the Tulsa Air and Space Museum. One of them was holding a tan colored item in a plastic bag. My curiosity was definitely peaked (is that correct grammar? I'm gonna go with it anyway). The volunteer docents begin to tell a story to our class that bears repeating.
In Tulsa, Douglas was a defense plant (later changed to McDonnell Douglas, later Boeing). In the 40's this plant built B-24 bombers. In 1945, it was determined that the last B-24 bomber to be built in Tulsa would be built by Douglas employees. Those in charge felt this should be a big deal. They decided that employees could help in the building of this bomber. They set it up so that employees could buy $25 war bonds which would go towards the cost of this plane (about $250,000). There were special rewards for those who bought war bonds. Each person would have the chance to submit a name for the plane, of their choosing. Also, their name went into a pool and one name would be drawn out for a ride in the last B-24 bomber. A man by the last name of Addington, was the winner of the name contest. He chose The Tulsamerican. This plane also had a few extra unplanned upgrades. Each person who bought a war bond signed their name onto a scroll. This scroll was put into a leather bag that was painted with the same nose art as the plane. This leather bag containing all the names of the workers was put under the pilot's seat. Many of the women workers also included some pictures and letters that apparently got the airmen's attention.
After the completion of this plane, it was flown to Europe, in order to receive it's seasoned crew. The newbies who flew it to Europe were possibly a little disgruntled that they would receive an older junker plane to fly into combat instead of the bright, shiny, brand new Tulsamerican.
We can only hypothesize why the pilot took the scroll out from under his seat. Maybe it was that he felt he deserved it or maybe he was afraid it would go down with the plane, when and if it was destroyed in combat (it was later shot down and sank off the coast of Croatia). What we do know, is that this pilot took it, and immediately mailed it to his wife. When the man came home from war, he would keep that leather-surrounded-scroll on top of the refrigerator for the next 70 years.
After the man passed, his son contacted a volunteer at the TASM and promptly put the scroll into a Fedex box and sent it to them.
Through contacts and pure luck, Dr. Wilson my professor, provided a rare opportunity for her small class today. The docents removed the scroll from the leather bag and rolled it out on a long countertop in order for Dr. Judy Moody to scan the scroll so that an electronic copy can be made for display at the museum.
They needed some volunteers to handle the scroll. Well, naturally I snapped some latex gloves on and heartily volunteered.
I looked at the names on this scroll, in such amazing condition it looked as if it were only a few years old instead of almost 70.
The men and women of Tulsa who built the last B-24 bomber for Douglas had pridefully written their names, addresses and department numbers.
I thought of the sacrifice that not only these families made by joining the workforce, but of the sacrifice of the men and women who fought in World War II.
They allowed us to take as many pictures and videos as we wanted.
It was such an amazing opportunity, to be one of the few who will ever touch that scroll.....that scroll that made its way across oceans and lived through a time that many men and women didn't.
I stood in patriotic awe and such gratefulness.
It was definitely one of the best days of school ever!
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Yo, Old Guy.....My Eyes Are Up Here!
What follows is an account of one of the strangest incidents I've ever experienced in my life. Now, we all can agree I'm not a Cindy Crawford look-a-like, nor do I flaunt what my momma gave me....so I'm not at all accustomed to having the opposite sex ogle me. What just transpired was strange, unnerving and most of all, laugh out loud funny.
I was heading into work, walking down the hallway of the Business and Technology Building at the Broken Arrow Campus. I had just taken my shades off and popped them on top of my head, and was minding my own business as I was loaded down with my laptop, my purse and a bottle of water. An older gentleman (I use the term "gentleman" VERY loosely) was at the opposite end of the hallway, walking my way. He started speaking. Loudly. Come to find out, he was speaking to me!
Old Guy: Hey! I see you made it!
Julie: (slows her walking and looks at the older man to see who he was talking to)
Old Guy: I know you really didn't want to come in today. But I'm so glad you made it!
Now at this point, I'm thinking two things. Either a) he is a professor and has mistaken me for one of his students, or b) he has a bluetooth ear bud in and he's talking on the phone. So as we are walking towards each other, I start looking for a cellular device, or ear buds....ANYTHING that will give me a hint to who this guy is talking to!
He continues to talk as if he knows me. I'm thoroughly confused by this time. He's gotten close enough to me that I can see his glasses have slipped low on his nose and his beady eyes are not looking at me. It almost seems like they're looking at the floor. All this time I still keep walking. Now I'm wondering if I should pick up the pace and stride past him because obviously this is awkward. I have no idea who he is and he's going to be embarrassed to realize I'm not the person he thinks I am.
Finally, we've come face to face and he stops me. He literally stepped in front of me. And I was right. He wasn't....a-hem....looking at my face.
Three words were running through my mind right then.....Dirty. Old. Man!
Then he busts out with this:
Old Guy: I'm just flirting with you! I know you don't want to be here today!
And he starts laughing! So he just told me he's flirting with me and he's still not looking at my face. Well, I take that back.....he's given my face a few quick-as-lightning glances, but let's just say his main focus was not on my pretty sometimes-blue-sometimes-green eyes. Let me pause to mention he was about 70ish.
"Look dude, I may be open to the prospect of finally meeting a man, but I'd like to find someone whose main physician doesn't specialize in geriatrics!"
Naturally I didn't say this, but I thought it!!
He finally let me pass and I HURRIED down the hall into the elevator. I could still hear him talking to himself.
Come to find out, he's not a professor, but he is on staff here.
I have no idea who he is and I just really don't want to know.
At least I was wearing layers today. I hope he walked away frustrated at the young 24-ish woman who was wearing the jean jacket (that would be me). Serves him right.
Thanks old guy, I feel like I need to take a shower.
I was heading into work, walking down the hallway of the Business and Technology Building at the Broken Arrow Campus. I had just taken my shades off and popped them on top of my head, and was minding my own business as I was loaded down with my laptop, my purse and a bottle of water. An older gentleman (I use the term "gentleman" VERY loosely) was at the opposite end of the hallway, walking my way. He started speaking. Loudly. Come to find out, he was speaking to me!
Old Guy: Hey! I see you made it!
Julie: (slows her walking and looks at the older man to see who he was talking to)
Old Guy: I know you really didn't want to come in today. But I'm so glad you made it!
Now at this point, I'm thinking two things. Either a) he is a professor and has mistaken me for one of his students, or b) he has a bluetooth ear bud in and he's talking on the phone. So as we are walking towards each other, I start looking for a cellular device, or ear buds....ANYTHING that will give me a hint to who this guy is talking to!
He continues to talk as if he knows me. I'm thoroughly confused by this time. He's gotten close enough to me that I can see his glasses have slipped low on his nose and his beady eyes are not looking at me. It almost seems like they're looking at the floor. All this time I still keep walking. Now I'm wondering if I should pick up the pace and stride past him because obviously this is awkward. I have no idea who he is and he's going to be embarrassed to realize I'm not the person he thinks I am.
Finally, we've come face to face and he stops me. He literally stepped in front of me. And I was right. He wasn't....a-hem....looking at my face.
Three words were running through my mind right then.....Dirty. Old. Man!
Then he busts out with this:
Old Guy: I'm just flirting with you! I know you don't want to be here today!
And he starts laughing! So he just told me he's flirting with me and he's still not looking at my face. Well, I take that back.....he's given my face a few quick-as-lightning glances, but let's just say his main focus was not on my pretty sometimes-blue-sometimes-green eyes. Let me pause to mention he was about 70ish.
"Look dude, I may be open to the prospect of finally meeting a man, but I'd like to find someone whose main physician doesn't specialize in geriatrics!"
Naturally I didn't say this, but I thought it!!
He finally let me pass and I HURRIED down the hall into the elevator. I could still hear him talking to himself.
Come to find out, he's not a professor, but he is on staff here.
I have no idea who he is and I just really don't want to know.
At least I was wearing layers today. I hope he walked away frustrated at the young 24-ish woman who was wearing the jean jacket (that would be me). Serves him right.
Thanks old guy, I feel like I need to take a shower.
Monday, April 11, 2011
My Savior, My Rescuer, My Sheriff
I'm stubborn. There's just really no other way to put it.
This is not news to anyone in my family, nor is it news to my close friends. But I like to think I'm stubborn in a good way. I stick with something until its finished, I don't change my mind at the drop of a hat. But apparently I can be stubborn in the negative way as well.
That can be said for almost any characteristic trait that any of us possess. It's like the force. There's a light side and a dark side. Our stubbornness can be used in the Obi-Wan-likeness or we can go the way of the Darth Apprentice......wow, I've lived with my nerd-brother wayyyy too long.
It's true though.
Why do we struggle against something that we know is inevitable, and that we know is in our best interest?
I don't know. Is it a matter of pride? I suspect yes.
Did I want to yank that white handkerchief out of my jeans pocket and throw it at my feet so that the Sheriff would see it and understand I was surrendering? Yes and no.
I'm a fixer. I want to fix things. I ALWAYS think I can fix a situation.
The Sheriff likes to remind me its not my job to fix MOST things. It's my job to live my life in the manner in which he's called me to, and its my job to forgive, to love and to serve.
As He is so quick to do, the minute I waved the white flag, The Sheriff wrapped me in his arms and banished the Cowboys of Cruel from the town. He saved the day. Again.
Here's one thing about My Sheriff. He never tires of saving the town. It's His town. He takes pride in it when its doing well, and he pulls rank when it's struggling.
I poked my head out of the fatherly embrace I was enjoying and looked back at the Cowboys of Cruel as they headed out on foot, down the dusty road. They weren't even tall! They were short, and insignificant, but sported really BIG mouths. All the better to fool me with.
I serve a relentless, pursuing, patient, unconditional loving Sheriff.
I am His town.
And it's peaceful here once again.
This is not news to anyone in my family, nor is it news to my close friends. But I like to think I'm stubborn in a good way. I stick with something until its finished, I don't change my mind at the drop of a hat. But apparently I can be stubborn in the negative way as well.
That can be said for almost any characteristic trait that any of us possess. It's like the force. There's a light side and a dark side. Our stubbornness can be used in the Obi-Wan-likeness or we can go the way of the Darth Apprentice......wow, I've lived with my nerd-brother wayyyy too long.
It's true though.
Why do we struggle against something that we know is inevitable, and that we know is in our best interest?
I don't know. Is it a matter of pride? I suspect yes.
Did I want to yank that white handkerchief out of my jeans pocket and throw it at my feet so that the Sheriff would see it and understand I was surrendering? Yes and no.
I'm a fixer. I want to fix things. I ALWAYS think I can fix a situation.
The Sheriff likes to remind me its not my job to fix MOST things. It's my job to live my life in the manner in which he's called me to, and its my job to forgive, to love and to serve.
As He is so quick to do, the minute I waved the white flag, The Sheriff wrapped me in his arms and banished the Cowboys of Cruel from the town. He saved the day. Again.
Here's one thing about My Sheriff. He never tires of saving the town. It's His town. He takes pride in it when its doing well, and he pulls rank when it's struggling.
I poked my head out of the fatherly embrace I was enjoying and looked back at the Cowboys of Cruel as they headed out on foot, down the dusty road. They weren't even tall! They were short, and insignificant, but sported really BIG mouths. All the better to fool me with.
I serve a relentless, pursuing, patient, unconditional loving Sheriff.
I am His town.
And it's peaceful here once again.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
A Wild West Shoot-out
For those of you who know me well, you know that I have an overactive imagination which makes for great writing material. Last night was just such a time.
As I laid down to sleep, I pondered over the blog I had written and debated whether to open the proverbial door, or not. I had one thousand and one excuses, the top one being exhaustion. But before I could really make a decision, a short movie played out in my head...and I let it roll. Because it was funny. And meaningful.
(Scene: an old western town that has seen better days. The townsfolk knew there was a "storm" comin', so doors were closed, shades were drawn and a lonesome tumbleweed rolled by. The Cowboys of Cruel ride into town, hitch their horses to the post and make their way to the very center of town, to stand in all their grimey glory and await the sheriff. Unforgiveness leads the pack, as they stand in the middle of the dirt road with wooden buildings on either side of them)
Unforgiveness: Well, we're here and we ain't leavin'! We got us a hostage and we ain't turnin' loose!
Julie: Awesome, who's our hostage?
(Unforgiveness gives the slightest nod of his head and before she knows it, Julie is bound at the wrists with the black handkerchiefs that signify The Cowboys of Cruel. Her mouth is gagged and she's held in place by the posse....the posse that she thought were her companions, not her captors)
Sheriff: You'll be lettin' her go now, I suspect.
Unforgiveness: (laughing) What makes you think we'll let her go? She chose to ride with us. She ain't no better than any of us. She belongs with us!
Sheriff: She doesn't belong to you. She belongs to me, if we wanna split hairs. She was bought with a price. I've got plans for that little lady and you Cowboys are gettin' in my way.
(The Sheriff, looms over the Cowboys and has his hands ready at the draw. The Cowboys, nervous now, shift their eyes from their leader, to the sheriff. Unforgiveness eyes his enemy, sizing up the battle ahead. Neither one blinks.....the shoot-out music cues....)
To be continued...........
As I laid down to sleep, I pondered over the blog I had written and debated whether to open the proverbial door, or not. I had one thousand and one excuses, the top one being exhaustion. But before I could really make a decision, a short movie played out in my head...and I let it roll. Because it was funny. And meaningful.
(Scene: an old western town that has seen better days. The townsfolk knew there was a "storm" comin', so doors were closed, shades were drawn and a lonesome tumbleweed rolled by. The Cowboys of Cruel ride into town, hitch their horses to the post and make their way to the very center of town, to stand in all their grimey glory and await the sheriff. Unforgiveness leads the pack, as they stand in the middle of the dirt road with wooden buildings on either side of them)
Unforgiveness: Well, we're here and we ain't leavin'! We got us a hostage and we ain't turnin' loose!
Julie: Awesome, who's our hostage?
(Unforgiveness gives the slightest nod of his head and before she knows it, Julie is bound at the wrists with the black handkerchiefs that signify The Cowboys of Cruel. Her mouth is gagged and she's held in place by the posse....the posse that she thought were her companions, not her captors)
Sheriff: You'll be lettin' her go now, I suspect.
Unforgiveness: (laughing) What makes you think we'll let her go? She chose to ride with us. She ain't no better than any of us. She belongs with us!
Sheriff: She doesn't belong to you. She belongs to me, if we wanna split hairs. She was bought with a price. I've got plans for that little lady and you Cowboys are gettin' in my way.
(The Sheriff, looms over the Cowboys and has his hands ready at the draw. The Cowboys, nervous now, shift their eyes from their leader, to the sheriff. Unforgiveness eyes his enemy, sizing up the battle ahead. Neither one blinks.....the shoot-out music cues....)
To be continued...........
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Rage, Unforgiveness and Dignity...Oh My!
This is one of those blogs where I've sat here looking at the keyboard for a length of time wondering how to start writing and what to start writing about.
I'll start with saying, what I'm addressing in this blog is something everyone on Earth has experienced at some time or another. So I feel I am in good company.
Bit of background on my life: I have been attending college since January 2007. I've loved every second of it and have pushed myself to graduate with a degree in education in four years. Which means I've had very little time for a whole lot of things. But I can say that I've allowed God to do SO much in me since the beginning of my new life!
That's what I call October 30, 2006.....it was when I received my new life. It was almost as if the skies that had been as black as storm clouds, suddenly parted and I could once again see and feel the sunshine. I had wonderful family and friends who supported me, who STILL support me. The Lord restores....he renews.....and he revives! I can say this from experience.
The downside is, sometimes when you're not looking....old habits, familiar feelings and things you thought you put away, suddenly become your constant companion. I have worked really hard at forgiveness over the course of my new life. I could tell when I needed to revisit the issue of forgiveness, and I would dive headlong into it, get it taken care of and get on with living my life.
So it strikes me as so ridiculous when I turn around one day and realize I've had a somewhat silent partner attached to me for the past four months. He goes by the name of Unforgiveness. But this is one sly dog...his name is in a constant state of change. Unforgiveness changes to Avoidance....or maybe Anger.....Rage.....Bitterness....Stubborness. Or maybe his name doesn't change at all. Maybe, just maybe, these are all members of his crew.
I'll be honest and tell you that I've been ridin' with this posse for a few months now. And they're not the kindest bunch to be hobknobbing with. They like to wreak havoc with your emotions and constantly remind you of your faults, your shame and even your lack of dignity. They convince you that you cannot attain certain things because of your past......that you'll always have a lack of trust in the opposite sex.....that just because you're Mom has received amazing blessings after being faithful in all things, doesn't mean you'll receive the same. Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place, right?
These slippery slur-slingers have a whole arsenal full of negative quips to throw at you when the time is right for them.
But then something happens. God starts reading your mail.
You go along thinking "fine, read my mail, but leave me to my own devices. I've gotten used to Mr. Unforgiveness and he's my pal."
Then God begins to get really personal.....not only does he continue to read your mail, but he begins to pick up the mail directly from the mailman in order to bring it to your front door Himself. And then the knocking starts.
And it's relentless. If I've learned anything over the past three to four weeks, it's that I serve a RELENTLESS God!
He knocks, and knocks and knocks some more. And I know that he will continue to knock as long as he senses me behind that door, peeking out of the peephole to see if He's still there or not.
Why won't I open the door?
Transparent Julie says because I'm ashamed that I'm back at the place of needing him to knock repeatedly. I logically know riding with the Cowboys of Cruel only hurts me and keeps me from reaching my full potential spiritually or emotionally. But it's become a familiar trail, and unfortunately it has become The Trail of Tears.
A very wise woman pointed out to me recently that I have too much going for me to be hiding behind that door, refusing the healing that's waiting on the other side. She's also the same one that told me of a vision she had seven years ago that began with me being drug through the sand, holding on for all I was worth, to the hand of God. She railed at God that he would not carry me when I most needed it. Why would he drag me? He stood me up and turned me around to look at the track marks made along the beach.....a wind blew by and completely erased those track marks.
It was a poignant time in my life when she told me of this dream. She didn't even know how my life was unraveling. Sometimes I think that wind has come by, finally....and the marks are gone.
Then there are times like the present that I realize just how deep those grooves are, but that maybe they're more shallow than they were last year.....
Through everything, I realize that I'm still in a process. A process that I hope will end in me becoming the woman God wants me to become.
But I know to become that woman I have to open that dad-gummed door that's about to break down because of the constant knocking that's emanating from the hand that has never let go of me, even when I was being drug through the wet muck.
Who knows, maybe on the other side of that door is that wind.....the wind that's waiting to erase those drag marks in the sand.
To be continued.....
I'll start with saying, what I'm addressing in this blog is something everyone on Earth has experienced at some time or another. So I feel I am in good company.
Bit of background on my life: I have been attending college since January 2007. I've loved every second of it and have pushed myself to graduate with a degree in education in four years. Which means I've had very little time for a whole lot of things. But I can say that I've allowed God to do SO much in me since the beginning of my new life!
That's what I call October 30, 2006.....it was when I received my new life. It was almost as if the skies that had been as black as storm clouds, suddenly parted and I could once again see and feel the sunshine. I had wonderful family and friends who supported me, who STILL support me. The Lord restores....he renews.....and he revives! I can say this from experience.
The downside is, sometimes when you're not looking....old habits, familiar feelings and things you thought you put away, suddenly become your constant companion. I have worked really hard at forgiveness over the course of my new life. I could tell when I needed to revisit the issue of forgiveness, and I would dive headlong into it, get it taken care of and get on with living my life.
So it strikes me as so ridiculous when I turn around one day and realize I've had a somewhat silent partner attached to me for the past four months. He goes by the name of Unforgiveness. But this is one sly dog...his name is in a constant state of change. Unforgiveness changes to Avoidance....or maybe Anger.....Rage.....Bitterness....Stubborness. Or maybe his name doesn't change at all. Maybe, just maybe, these are all members of his crew.
I'll be honest and tell you that I've been ridin' with this posse for a few months now. And they're not the kindest bunch to be hobknobbing with. They like to wreak havoc with your emotions and constantly remind you of your faults, your shame and even your lack of dignity. They convince you that you cannot attain certain things because of your past......that you'll always have a lack of trust in the opposite sex.....that just because you're Mom has received amazing blessings after being faithful in all things, doesn't mean you'll receive the same. Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place, right?
These slippery slur-slingers have a whole arsenal full of negative quips to throw at you when the time is right for them.
But then something happens. God starts reading your mail.
You go along thinking "fine, read my mail, but leave me to my own devices. I've gotten used to Mr. Unforgiveness and he's my pal."
Then God begins to get really personal.....not only does he continue to read your mail, but he begins to pick up the mail directly from the mailman in order to bring it to your front door Himself. And then the knocking starts.
And it's relentless. If I've learned anything over the past three to four weeks, it's that I serve a RELENTLESS God!
He knocks, and knocks and knocks some more. And I know that he will continue to knock as long as he senses me behind that door, peeking out of the peephole to see if He's still there or not.
Why won't I open the door?
Transparent Julie says because I'm ashamed that I'm back at the place of needing him to knock repeatedly. I logically know riding with the Cowboys of Cruel only hurts me and keeps me from reaching my full potential spiritually or emotionally. But it's become a familiar trail, and unfortunately it has become The Trail of Tears.
A very wise woman pointed out to me recently that I have too much going for me to be hiding behind that door, refusing the healing that's waiting on the other side. She's also the same one that told me of a vision she had seven years ago that began with me being drug through the sand, holding on for all I was worth, to the hand of God. She railed at God that he would not carry me when I most needed it. Why would he drag me? He stood me up and turned me around to look at the track marks made along the beach.....a wind blew by and completely erased those track marks.
It was a poignant time in my life when she told me of this dream. She didn't even know how my life was unraveling. Sometimes I think that wind has come by, finally....and the marks are gone.
Then there are times like the present that I realize just how deep those grooves are, but that maybe they're more shallow than they were last year.....
Through everything, I realize that I'm still in a process. A process that I hope will end in me becoming the woman God wants me to become.
But I know to become that woman I have to open that dad-gummed door that's about to break down because of the constant knocking that's emanating from the hand that has never let go of me, even when I was being drug through the wet muck.
Who knows, maybe on the other side of that door is that wind.....the wind that's waiting to erase those drag marks in the sand.
To be continued.....
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Good-bye "The Bachelor"......Hello "The Homeless Man"
It's no secret that my 9-year old twin nieces have been trying to marry me off for the past two years. Well, let me re-phrase that....it's no secret to me. Maybe some of you were unaware that this was taking place. I think I've wrote a blog about the all-important "List" that my nieces handed me a few months ago, outlining eleven attributes that their new uncle must possess. Quick recap - he must juggle, do cartwheels, be a repairman as well as a Chicago Bears football player, and must be supportive. It was quite the list.
My nieces can spot what they deem "uncle material" at 200 paces. I need only to ask what someone's name is and the Spanish Inquisition begins...."Why do you want to know his naaaamammmme, Tauntie? Hmm? Do you LIIIIIKE him???" I've basically just stopped talking in front of them.
But today took the cake. My brother and his family were driving home from church, when they passed under an overpass and they spotted a homeless man under the bridge. My nieces have very tender hearts....and Alexis asked if they could give him some food. My brother kindly explained to her that they had no food to give him. No more was said about the incident for the duration of the car ride home.
As they were pulling up to the curb in front of their house, Kaylee says "I wish Tauntie could marry him."
Roy says "Who, Kaylee?"
Kaylee replies, "the homeless man! That way he would have a family and food!"
Her heart was in the right place, at least.
My nieces can spot what they deem "uncle material" at 200 paces. I need only to ask what someone's name is and the Spanish Inquisition begins...."Why do you want to know his naaaamammmme, Tauntie? Hmm? Do you LIIIIIKE him???" I've basically just stopped talking in front of them.
But today took the cake. My brother and his family were driving home from church, when they passed under an overpass and they spotted a homeless man under the bridge. My nieces have very tender hearts....and Alexis asked if they could give him some food. My brother kindly explained to her that they had no food to give him. No more was said about the incident for the duration of the car ride home.
As they were pulling up to the curb in front of their house, Kaylee says "I wish Tauntie could marry him."
Roy says "Who, Kaylee?"
Kaylee replies, "the homeless man! That way he would have a family and food!"
Her heart was in the right place, at least.
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