Something new I'm playing around with...

Church was my one our of peace each week.  It was the go go go of our lives that caused so much stress and on Sunday morning, I left the babies in the nursery and felt my arms lighten.  I could swing them, let them hang loose, raise them in the air--anything I wanted.

It was the one place I could blend into the walls and no one really knew me.  That's what I really wanted.  To blend in.  To be one of the masses.  The "mega church" we attended was really huge--3,000 people came on Sunday mornings.  I sat in the same seat every week but never sat with the same people.  I never got to know anyone.  No one cared what I was wearing or whether or not I stood for the singing (I never did--I hate the singing.  I just like to listen.) or if I brought my coffee mug in with me.

I looked forward to church in a way I hadn't in years.  It was an hour of peace, yes but also the only place I could go to ask for help from the One best able to provide it.  It was hard for me to ask for help.  With my husband overseas for who knew how long and two babies to care for by myself plus working full time, I should have asked for help.  Most people would.  But I couldn't.  I just couldn't.  I hated admitting weakness.  I hated it when anyone could see through the veil and know that I didn't have it all together.  Because I knew, somewhere deep, that I could do this--I could GET it together.  Sundays made me believe it.

Mostly though I never wanted my husband to know how hard it was.  If he knew, he'd feel guilty and I didn't want that.  Nothing would change except how I looked at things.  How I managed things.  I was in control of how I reacted to whatever came my way.  Sunday made me remember that.  It shifted my perspective from all that still needed to be done to all that had already been accomplished.  Look at the week we just survived!


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Easter

It’s Holy Week.  I remember being confused by so many pieces of Easter when I was young.  Why was it called Good Friday if Jesus died?  Wasn’t that BAD Friday?  Why did we eat so much fish?  Ick.  Why did it always seem to be a gloomy, rainy, week?  Did God do that on purpose?  How could Jesus ride into the city of Jerusalem with such fanfare on Sunday and be beaten so brutally just 6 days later?  As I’ve grown in my faith and age, I understand so much more.  When Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ played in theaters, I went to see it.  My sobs could hardly be heard over the sobs of others.  This wasn’t a movie where you munched on popcorn and sipped a soft drink.  This was a chore—a duty as a Christian to come face to face with the brutality endured by our Savior.  To come to terms with what He experienced so that I could, what?  Show up late to work with no excuse?  Watch movies with foul language?  Tell the occasional lie and not suffer the consequences?  Was it worth it?  What jus
Read more

Shoes=Outside

Image
When Nick comes inside from anywhere, he takes off his socks and shoes. He just likes to be barefoot inside. He also doesn't like shoes on the couch or beds, so when Ivy's inside, most of the time, her shoes and socks come off too. Naturally, this necessitates putting shoes on when we've been home and then decide to go somewhere. Ivy seems to understand this. She LOVES to be outside. She's tall enough to reach the door knob, so it's locked all the time now. She'll go up to the door, try to turn the handle and say "side" when she wants to go outside (which is all the time). When she sees one of us putting our shoes on, she naturally goes to the door and says "side". Yesterday, Nick took Ivy out to the pool for a while before I got home from work. They put their feet in the pool and splashed a bit, but no real swimming (water is still cold). When I got home, they were back inside, shoes off. Ivy wasn't quite done being outside for the day.
Read more

The Wonderful World of Meat Substitutes

I didn’t become a vegetarian until a little over two years ago. I used to think it would be absolutely impossible for me to do—I’m in love with chicken! Can’t give that up. No way. Well, clearly, I did give it up (although so many non-vegetarians say things to me like “you eat chicken, right? Chicken’s a vegetable.” Um, no.). I often encounter someone that is unaware of my food lifestyle and after the initial shock wears off, they want to know if I miss meat. The answer is a resounding no. I hardly notice it at all. I won’t go into why I don’t eat meat (not now anyway). There are different types of vegetarians. I am what is known as a lacto-ovo vegetarian—I eat eggs and diary but nothing that used to crawl, swim, walk or fly. No chicken, no cow, no pig, no lamb, no fish. (Nick and I went to a restaurant today that basically wanted to know how you want your beef cooked, but did include two of what they called “Meatless sandwiches”. They included fried fish and baked fish.
Read more