The Eiffel Tower is being replicated right in my very own house. Believe it or not, the rugrats haven’t threatened to tear it down yet. They also haven’t run into it as they so bravely run at the speed of light in circles around our kitchen/office/great room. And I am trying to see how high I can stack the boxes w/out causing them to lean dangerously.
Moving is so much fun. Moving is so much fun. Say it with me now. Moving is SO MUCH FUN!!
I remember seeing an Oprah program several years ago where people were forgiving other people. Not that Oprah is anyone who I would recommend watching regularly, but occassionally she has a good program. This was one of them. I watched it because I wanted to see where she would take this topic. I was pleasantly surprised at what happened. I won’t recap the entire show, but I will say that one thing Oprah was trying to get through to her audience is that forgiveness is not for the one who is being forgiven. No. Forgiveness is for the one showing mercy. It’s for you. It’s for me. It is the act of forgiving that will set you free. Completely and utterly free.
How do I know?
You read my last post in which I gave you a private glimpse into a painful past. I was only married to that man for 4 1/2 years. I was too young and too naive and once I realized what I had done it was far too late. He was much older and he knew better. Whatever his intentions, I still don’t know. It started out as a game to me. A dangerous game. Then, like the prey of a spider, I got all caught up in the web. Before I knew it I was chewed up and spit out: torn, ragged, depressed, and desperate to get away. Finally, I got away.
And then I got mad.
It took years for me to get over that relationship. So much damage had been done and I was in a protective shell I had built around myself. It took Rich quite some time to break down the wall. But he didn’t give up and I finally let him break it all down. But not just Rich — God had His glorious Hand in it the whole time. He put His Spirit into my heart and transformed that lost and hurting little smart alec girl into a strong and compassionate woman.
I am able to sit here in complete honesty without a tinge of mischief and tell you from the heart that I have forgiven that man, my ex-husband, entirely. E-n-t-i-r-e-l-y. I don’t talk about it. I don’t even know how I will tell my children about it. I would rather not, truth be told. But I’m sure someday the subject will come forth and I will have to be honest with them. Yes, mommy was married once before daddy. And it was a mistake. And it hurt mommy a great deal. And, and, and…
Heavy sigh.
Forgiven. He is forgiven.
Forgiveness will set you free. That man doesn’t know that I’ve forgiven him. He doesn’t need to know. That is between me and Jesus. God knows. I know. That’s all that matters.
And I have been set F-R-E-E.
Free from the pain.
Free from the anger.
Free from the depression.
Free from the torment.
Free from the guilt.
And I have learned from it. Many great lessons. Too great to elaborate.
Forgiveness is not for the forgiven, it is for the one doing the act of forgiving. It will set you free.
May God bless the one who has hurt me. He hurts me no more; that is my blessing. And may he never hurt another.
Obsession. I hate that cologne like it’s the smell of death. Why? Because my ex-husband used to practically bathe in the junk. I seriously hate the smell. I’d rather smell the bowels of a rotting carcass. Maybe you laugh, but I am not kidding.
Guess who found a barely used bottle of Obsession in the garage during our “get organized” day on Sunday? Yep, my current husband. His mother bought it for him years ago and I hid the junk because I can’t stand the smell. I didn’t have the heart to throw it away because that is such a giant waste of money so I just made it vanish. If it accidentally got thrown away with some other junk it was buried under — wooops!
But no!
Guess who decided to wear the Obsession today despite the horrible things it reminds me of? You got it — my dear sweet husband who has no ears apparently because I could have sworn I told him never to wear that crap around me. Ever!
It reminds me of alcohol breath at 2:00 in the morning when the drunk decided to come home. Sometimes I would secretly wish him dead of a car accident because I did not want to have sex. But you can’t say no to a drunk. There will be consequences not worth dealing with. It’s best to just give in.
It reminds me of having no money and eating peanut butter and ramen noodles because the drunk spent our rent money on frivolous things including beer, beer, and more beer.
It reminds me of Al-Anon meetings and depression.
It reminds me of 3 stints in rehab and several suicide attempts (him, not me).
It reminds me of 5 step-children who had a hateful mom and a drunken dad and I was the only one to care for them and show them love.
It reminds me of complete humiliation when the drunk would yell out the windows of our apartment what a slut he thought I was because I was trying to go to work. Then he would call me the whole time I was at work begging me to come home. It’s a wonder I didn’t lose my job!
It reminds me of separation from my family and friends.
It reminds me of a life I had almost forgotten. That is, until my earless husband put on Obsession today.
He might read this. I hope he does. Because, honey, I am sorry, but the Obsession is gone. Well, at least after tonight it will be. I am breaking the bottle and throwing it away. No more. I will buy you some new cologne. How about that Armani stuff I like so much?
Please, no more Obsession. No Calvin Klein scents. None. I can’t handle it.
I am so excited for Friday to get here. My close friend, Lana, is going with me (girl, are you ready?).
Here are a couple “ideas” I have. The big giant angel wings tattoo isn’t the size that I want, but I love the childlike fullness of the wings. I like the little child with head on knees too, esp since we don’t know the gender of our baby, but I don’t know. I am torn between something like that and just wings.
What do you think?
The American Heritage Dictionary defines this as a feeling of profound awe and respect and often love; veneration.
Have reverence for God. Not the god you made up in your mind. The true God. The Trinity.
Father, Son, Holy Spirit
Remember in order to see in full size click on picture
Reverence for God!
Today’s entry is just to fulfill my daily blogging for the challenge I entered to blog once a day for a year.
I am so tired. Brianna puked all night. Jeremy has diarrhea. I am a walking zombie. I am going to take a nap. I’ll be back tomorrow and hopefully in a better mood.
The paperwork for the house is almost complete. The listing Realtor has input that the house is “in-contract” in the MLS. We are inching ever closer! I cannot wait!
Peace!
I had to read a literary story for my English 2 class and respond to it for a grade. The idea is to interact with the story. That isn’t so hard to do and it provokes some thought processes that I don’t use on a daily basis. It allows me to stretch my mind. Give it a little workout. I enjoy it. And, even better, I am given a voice. You all know how much I love to give my view of things; thus this website. My own little corner… [read Why Do I Blog and you'll understand].
I read a story written by Anton Chekhov called Gooseberries,which was first published in 1898. It was not all that enlightening at first glance. The setting is gray and wet and cold. The views of the characters are a bit dull and boring. The fact that I live in 2008 sheds very little light on the way of life back then, especially for someone who is from the other side of the globe. Honestly, I am not a history buff and I am geography illiterate and I’m ok with that.
However, once I started my 200 word minimum reading response it dawned on me what the story was all about. Contradictions. Oh, yeeess. Those. I almost decided to switch which story to respond to because that is quite a thing to tackle. No humor. Dark. Gloomy.
So I thought I better just get it over with. I am glad I did. Here is why. It made me realize that we (the general population) mostly only have remedies for the evil perpetrated upon humanity. Not solutions. We gather donations to help the needy. We volunteer at homeless shelters, women’s centers, jails, churches, food banks, animal shelters, hospitals. We adopt children domestically or internationally to give them a home and love and a family. It’s wonderful what we do to reach out to those in need. Our capacity to be compassionate is great and awesome!
Now here comes the depressing part. What dent has it made?
Follow my thinking for a moment. This might seem off topic, but I am going somewhere with it I assure you. You all know we are moving. I started packing the weekend after I found out. I have boxes lined up all around the house. Many, many boxes. But, unless someone looks closely, you can’t even see a dent. In other words, my house still looks full of stuff from one end to the other. I have worked my tail off trying to gather boxes, wrap the breakables, empty drawers and shelves, throw away things just hanging around for the sake of hanging around, and all the while being a mom to two very energetic toddlers. Even still — barely noticeable to anyone other than me.
Did you know that approximately 15 million children starve to death annually? What dent have we made?
Here’s the thing — I vehemently believe that we should keep up the fight, but I think we need a little more zip and a lot more urgency! We haven’t even made a dent. Meanwhile, I just stuffed my pork face full of hamburger and mashed cauliflower. I won’t go to bed hungry. Chances are, I won’t even be hungry when I wake up — at least not for a couple hours. Once I am, I’ll saunter over to the fridge, casually take out a couple of pasteurized for my safety eggs, cook some turkey sausage, and about 20 minutes after I sauntered over to the fridge I’ll stuff my pie hole again. I might even burp in satisfaction. Oh, and I’ll take a multi-vitamin. So will my kids.
There needs to be a solution. Once and for all. But until we are no longer satisfied with mere remedies there will be no solution. We feel good about the band-aids we put on the problems. If the thing still bleeds we’ll just put on a new band-aid.
I am haunted by the fact that if Christians would put their feet down and demand change, then follow through, there would be a dent. There would be such a huge dent that the whole world would pay attention. No God in school they tell us. Then we should put God in the world. Stick Him right in their faces. Make the news talk about Jesus Christ for weeks. Show the world what He has done through us, His children. Join together. Make a change. Stop the contradictions and provide the solution. No more remedies — provide the solution. We can do it. If only we would!
Well, back to surfing the Internet. But not until I fill up my glass with fresh, filtered water and eat a couple of Hershey kisses.
Contradictions.
Incase you’ve never seen this before, here is what it looks like to get a tattoo.
Well the day is approaching. I have found several designs that I like. I went to the tattoo place today and spoke with a very nice man who was covered in tattoos. I think the only skin I saw on him that didn’t have ink were his fingers and his face. Even his neck was covered. Talk about experience! I don’t need to see his resume now. LOL! And his earlobes had holes in them so big I could have stuck my thumb through the center and not touched anything but air. That was crazy! There were hollow discs inside the holes to keep them perfectly round. I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d think of all that when he’s 85. And, as strange as it may seem, I totally wanted to stick my finger through one of those holes in his ears.
But talk about compassionate. I told him my story - I want a memorial tattoo because of my miscarriage in December and I have ideas but I can’t draw so I need help - and his whole demeanor changed. Suddenly his eyes softened, his smirk faded, his gruff way of speaking came down about 10 notches to barely above a whisper and well below a normal tone (like if he was talking to me in a movie theater after the movie had already started), he bent down and leaned on the counter and uncrossed his arms to fiddle with his thumbs. He looked me straight in the eye and treated me like his little sister even though I know I am older than him. He told me he wants to set up an appointment because a memorial tattoo such as this should be a one-of-a-kind creation and not just a walk-in. He sent me home to look up designs on the internet so I could give him a rough idea of what I am dreaming up. I have printed them out and I am supposed to take the pictures to him a day or two before my appointment so he can draw a few original designs based on my ideas.
Now this is really starting to get me excited and anxious. My friend said she wants to go with me. If all goes well I will be getting my new ink design Friday night. I have to drop off the pictures on Wednesday. If you see me at church a week from tomorrow I will have my new tattoo and I will show you (in the bathroom and only if you’re a girl!). The rest of you will have to wait for it to heal to see a picture of it on here. I won’t keep you waiting for too long. I promise as soon as the swelling goes down and it is done flaking I’ll have Rich take a picture.
On the way home I said a prayer that God would take away my sin of judging others. I don’t want to judge people by the way they look or where they work or where they live or how they dress or their body shape or their hair color or their skin color or their abilities or disabilities and so on. I am tired of judging others. I think to some degree it is normal. But there is a line and I am tired of crossing it. I especially don’t want to pass that down to my children.
So Mister Tattoo Neck - you are the one I choose to design my tattoo. I believe you are sincere and that my tattoo will be beautiful. See ya Friday.
He already knew I might do this. And I swear to you it’s not intended to embarrass him at all. I love my husband and I hope and pray that my daughter will marry a man exactly like him someday. I tell her that and I completely mean it. I hope and pray that my son will grow up and be the kind of man he is. Once he is old enough, I will start telling him that. Rich is godly, faithful, trustworthy, kind, generous, calm, sweet, smart, funny, loving, and affectionate. Those are only a few of his qualities. A few.
But a handyman he is not. He didn’t grow up doing things like searching for wood to build a fort with. He didn’t take things apart and try to put them back together again. He didn’t work on cars as a teenager. He wasn’t in to building a shed in the backyard of his parent’s house. He did other things with his time and sharpened his mind for the computer programming future he now enjoys.
So today he is at a local retailer learning how to install tile. One side of me fears this new venture. What if he wants to install new tile in our new home. Yikes! What if he thinks he can, thinks he can, thinks he can and can’t? Oh I don’t even want to think of it. The other side of me is mighty proud of him. I hope he succeeds and finds a new hobby.
I told him he could practice on the laundry room. He’s ok with that. We’ll see what happens with this. I hope he can, he can, he can. I truly do.
Good news on the house situation. The listing agent has stopped showing it and is telling interested parties that it is in contract. We are not officially in contract, however, but they (both our Realtor and the listing Realtor) seem to think it’s as good as ours. The bank who holds the mortgage is finishing up paperwork. Once that’s done then it will be official. We have signed to close by February 21st. It could happen even before then.
Thank you to everyone who is praying for us. Please keep praying. We’re almost there!
To view picture in full size just click on it.
