So, I'm now two weeks into the school year...only this year I'm IN school myself! Gulp! My first class of the day is Chemistry 114 (I think it's pretty much an intro to Chemistry course), and it's full of not-so-bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed freshmen who probably see no reason to get up and have class before 10:00 chapel. Things were going along just swimmingly until a specific conversation I had with Kenny's cousin, Deb. Deb related to me a conversation she had had with her Freshman daughter and said Freshman daughter's Freshman friend. I, in turn, will relate it to you:
Deb: "So, said Freshman daughter's Freshman friend, how are your classes going?"
SFDFF: "They're going well, Mrs. Deb, thanks. Chemistry's pretty hard though." (Small talk added by me for flow.)
Deb: "What's Chemistry class like?"
SFDFF: "Well, it's hard work, but it's going fine. But for some reason we have this really old
lady in our class."
Deb: "That's funny, our cousin is taking that class, I think..."
This parlay went forward long enough for Deb to ascertain that SFDFF was, in fact, talking about ME!! I'm the 'really old lady'!! What?! I'm sorry...when did 30 become 'really old'? Seriously?! I recognize that I do not look like a freshmen. I also recognize that I probably don't look like a typical college student. HOWEVER, I do not recognize that any aspect of my physique, such as it is, could possible qualify me for the title "Really Old Lady." Come on! I'm going to propose that a new, um, maxim, if you will, be put into place, clearly stating that a person does not qualify as "Really Old" until they triple, nay, quadruple your own current age. For instance, to a six year old, a 24 year old is probably really old. To a 15 year old, I can see a 60 year old being really old. But to a 19 year old, 30 is NOT really old! More like 80! Right? Help a sister out! And to me, who is now 30, I guess that would mean that a 120 year old is Really Old. And I think that we can all agree that a 120 year old, is, in fact, Really Old. Past that, and you're just grateful to be dead...
07 September 2008
01 September 2008
Tammy
I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. Our family's been through a lot lately, and sometimes when things are tough it's hard to know what to write. But I'm back now, so you can all breathe a collective sigh of relief. Wait, what's that sound....oh, the collective sigh of relief. Good. Moving on.
My sister Tammy died two Thursdays ago, and the funeral was last Tuesday. That sentence seems so strange to me to be writing. She was only 28 years old, but in truth her body was much older. We're not really sure what happened to her...it will take 5 more weeks to get the autopsy back, which I find curious because the autopsy was performed in a day. It's not like they, you know, perform an autopsy for 6 weeks or anything. At any rate, we don't know what happened. Strangely, that's really okay with me. Maybe I just don't need to know in order to have closure. My parents don't feel that way, I think. They need to know. But for me, it makes no difference. This is not how I thought I would feel.
So, yesterday in church we were talking about lamenting. There are lots of examples in the Bible of lamenting. There is even a specific form for lamenting. We had a great discussion on lamenting. But here's the thing: I'm tired of lamenting. We had 2-weeks in the church service on lamenting. Then, Tammy died. The next week was her funeral. Then, we studied lamenting in our Sunday school class. I just want to be happy for a while, people!! Seriously!!
Also, I'm finding that there is a distinction between public and private lamenting that not many people talk about. When Tammy died, my good friend Mary Alice rushed right over. She helped feed my kids supper, and gave me hugs and heard me out as I spilled my heart. I was able to lament to her and get a lot of stuff off my chest. But when I was at the funeral service, there were a lot of people there, most of them christians. According to what we learned in church, that was a time for lament. But I found myself just wanting to run away. To be in my cave. I wanted all those people to just leave me alone, even though I've known most of them for years and years. It was such a relief to get in the car and drive back to Searcy!
There was a girl at church who had this wonderful insight. She came up and said, "I'm just going to give you a hug." This may sound strange, but I so appreciated the gesture. Most people had a lot of questions about what had happened. If they weren't asking about what happened, they were asking if I was okay. This one lady had the foresight to just offer comfort without asking anything of me. I'm going to remember to to do that from now on. She was a safe place for me. Thanks, Jenn.
I don't mean to say that I don't cherish all the cards and people who showed they care so much. Quite the contrary. This has been a very affirming experience for us with Downtown, our church home. I have never felt more a part of a church family! I'm simply pointing out that it is good to lament, but I don't believe that it MUST be done in public. Sometimes that's an 'inner circle' type of activity. Or even an 'all by myself' activity. That's okay too.
Okay, I promise a happier post next time...it'll be soon!
My sister Tammy died two Thursdays ago, and the funeral was last Tuesday. That sentence seems so strange to me to be writing. She was only 28 years old, but in truth her body was much older. We're not really sure what happened to her...it will take 5 more weeks to get the autopsy back, which I find curious because the autopsy was performed in a day. It's not like they, you know, perform an autopsy for 6 weeks or anything. At any rate, we don't know what happened. Strangely, that's really okay with me. Maybe I just don't need to know in order to have closure. My parents don't feel that way, I think. They need to know. But for me, it makes no difference. This is not how I thought I would feel.
So, yesterday in church we were talking about lamenting. There are lots of examples in the Bible of lamenting. There is even a specific form for lamenting. We had a great discussion on lamenting. But here's the thing: I'm tired of lamenting. We had 2-weeks in the church service on lamenting. Then, Tammy died. The next week was her funeral. Then, we studied lamenting in our Sunday school class. I just want to be happy for a while, people!! Seriously!!
Also, I'm finding that there is a distinction between public and private lamenting that not many people talk about. When Tammy died, my good friend Mary Alice rushed right over. She helped feed my kids supper, and gave me hugs and heard me out as I spilled my heart. I was able to lament to her and get a lot of stuff off my chest. But when I was at the funeral service, there were a lot of people there, most of them christians. According to what we learned in church, that was a time for lament. But I found myself just wanting to run away. To be in my cave. I wanted all those people to just leave me alone, even though I've known most of them for years and years. It was such a relief to get in the car and drive back to Searcy!
There was a girl at church who had this wonderful insight. She came up and said, "I'm just going to give you a hug." This may sound strange, but I so appreciated the gesture. Most people had a lot of questions about what had happened. If they weren't asking about what happened, they were asking if I was okay. This one lady had the foresight to just offer comfort without asking anything of me. I'm going to remember to to do that from now on. She was a safe place for me. Thanks, Jenn.
I don't mean to say that I don't cherish all the cards and people who showed they care so much. Quite the contrary. This has been a very affirming experience for us with Downtown, our church home. I have never felt more a part of a church family! I'm simply pointing out that it is good to lament, but I don't believe that it MUST be done in public. Sometimes that's an 'inner circle' type of activity. Or even an 'all by myself' activity. That's okay too.
Okay, I promise a happier post next time...it'll be soon!
19 August 2008
It Begins
Hi again!
So, yesterday was the first day of school. Parents around the country got through Sunday night with nervous excitement, while kids were either dreading school or excited to go back. Kale was decidedly in the excited category. Abby was in the dreading category (although she's never been to school.) But she knew that all kindergarteners have naptime. This knowledge overshadowed all good things Abby knew about kindergarten. When the dreaded Sunday night in question finally rolled around, the Robertson household was unusually structured. The kids got their all-important-first-day-of-school-must-impress-the-teacher-because-if-I-don't-my-academic-career-could-be-ruined outfits all laid out and ready to go (Abby's complete with matching hair ribbon.) We did drills with their new alarm clocks to make sure they knew how to hit 'snooze' (although we did NOT tell them that the 'snooze' button is there so that people can sleep longer.) We ran through the checklist for the morning routine: Turn off alarm; get dressed; put pajamas away; make bed; brush teeth; then you can bother mommy and daddy. Kenny and I went to bed feeling that we had just created a little family of Von Trapps who were fully capable of a seamless first morning of school! So, Monday morning finally reared its glorious head. Much to our delight, our von Trapps remembered their morning routines! The got up, got dressed, put their pajamas away, made their beds, and brushed their teeth, and came into our room to tell us they were ready for breakfast. It was beautiful. Seamless. Almost a work of art. So, we head off to school. Gulp! We get there (very early, just my style!), and join the melee. There are separate lines for different grades, but no signs to point you in a direction. The casual observer might not even be able to identify that there are separate lines. It's like a club. Only those who are in the club know about the lines. Are you in? As Heidi Klum says, "As you know, one day you're in, the next day you're OUT." (Cue German accent and high heels.) Well, by divine intervention, we overhead someone else (who was IN) talking about the lines, so we found where we were supposed to be. Abby, to my immense relief, immediately spotted a friend, so she sat happily down in the kindergarten line. Kale, who is at his best in a crowd of total strangers, was so excited to sit down in a group of kids he'd never seen before. No worries there. Some kids weren't so lucky. There was one little boy next to Abby who was just bawling his eyes out. His parents dropped him off (for kindergarten) and didn't stay. His backpack was completely full of his school supplies, since his parents didn't bother to take him to open house. He was terrified and lost. It was pitiful. Fortunately, Kenny found another 'Harding' family whose son was in his class. They helped him out. On the other side of Abby, a couple of girls down, sat a little girl who was completely conked out. Her head was bobbing, and she was nearly talking in her sleep...her mouth kept forming words, although no sound came out. It was so cute! So, all things considering, I figured my kids were in pretty good shape! Finally, the teachers came out to retrieve the kids, and we walked them back to their classrooms and said farewell. Believe it or not, I was strangely unemotional. Last year,when Kale started kindergarten, I was a mess. But this year, I'm just so excited for them both! And, sure enough, when we finally made it through the pick-up line, which was roughly the length of I-40, they were both in very high spirits! They both had a really good time. Abby even said naptime wasn't too bad. Thanks, Lord!! What I learned: Structure is a good thing. And even I can give the kids structure. Always, always, always, wait with your kids on the first day of school, no matter what. And, for Pete's sake, get to the pick-up line early! It's a zoo out there! Talk to you soon!
So, yesterday was the first day of school. Parents around the country got through Sunday night with nervous excitement, while kids were either dreading school or excited to go back. Kale was decidedly in the excited category. Abby was in the dreading category (although she's never been to school.) But she knew that all kindergarteners have naptime. This knowledge overshadowed all good things Abby knew about kindergarten. When the dreaded Sunday night in question finally rolled around, the Robertson household was unusually structured. The kids got their all-important-first-day-of-school-must-impress-the-teacher-because-if-I-don't-my-academic-career-could-be-ruined outfits all laid out and ready to go (Abby's complete with matching hair ribbon.) We did drills with their new alarm clocks to make sure they knew how to hit 'snooze' (although we did NOT tell them that the 'snooze' button is there so that people can sleep longer.) We ran through the checklist for the morning routine: Turn off alarm; get dressed; put pajamas away; make bed; brush teeth; then you can bother mommy and daddy. Kenny and I went to bed feeling that we had just created a little family of Von Trapps who were fully capable of a seamless first morning of school! So, Monday morning finally reared its glorious head. Much to our delight, our von Trapps remembered their morning routines! The got up, got dressed, put their pajamas away, made their beds, and brushed their teeth, and came into our room to tell us they were ready for breakfast. It was beautiful. Seamless. Almost a work of art. So, we head off to school. Gulp! We get there (very early, just my style!), and join the melee. There are separate lines for different grades, but no signs to point you in a direction. The casual observer might not even be able to identify that there are separate lines. It's like a club. Only those who are in the club know about the lines. Are you in? As Heidi Klum says, "As you know, one day you're in, the next day you're OUT." (Cue German accent and high heels.) Well, by divine intervention, we overhead someone else (who was IN) talking about the lines, so we found where we were supposed to be. Abby, to my immense relief, immediately spotted a friend, so she sat happily down in the kindergarten line. Kale, who is at his best in a crowd of total strangers, was so excited to sit down in a group of kids he'd never seen before. No worries there. Some kids weren't so lucky. There was one little boy next to Abby who was just bawling his eyes out. His parents dropped him off (for kindergarten) and didn't stay. His backpack was completely full of his school supplies, since his parents didn't bother to take him to open house. He was terrified and lost. It was pitiful. Fortunately, Kenny found another 'Harding' family whose son was in his class. They helped him out. On the other side of Abby, a couple of girls down, sat a little girl who was completely conked out. Her head was bobbing, and she was nearly talking in her sleep...her mouth kept forming words, although no sound came out. It was so cute! So, all things considering, I figured my kids were in pretty good shape! Finally, the teachers came out to retrieve the kids, and we walked them back to their classrooms and said farewell. Believe it or not, I was strangely unemotional. Last year,when Kale started kindergarten, I was a mess. But this year, I'm just so excited for them both! And, sure enough, when we finally made it through the pick-up line, which was roughly the length of I-40, they were both in very high spirits! They both had a really good time. Abby even said naptime wasn't too bad. Thanks, Lord!! What I learned: Structure is a good thing. And even I can give the kids structure. Always, always, always, wait with your kids on the first day of school, no matter what. And, for Pete's sake, get to the pick-up line early! It's a zoo out there! Talk to you soon!
13 August 2008
Our Boys
So, I stayed up WAY too late tonight watching the Olympics. Along with 2/3 of the country. Do you ever wonder what it could do to our economy for 2/3 of the country to suddenly operate on a large sleep deficit? Imagine it: Suddenly production goes down. Morale goes down. Tempers flare because of sleep loss. Soon, there could be riots in the streets. I think this is really psychological warfare being furtively declared on us by the Chinese. The Olympics as a warfare tactic. Discuss.
Of course, what the Chinese aren't considering is that in two weeks, when all this pomp and circumstance is finished, Americans will suddenly get an extra hour or two of sleep at night, collectively, while the Chinese will be wearing themselves out trying to clean up after all the filthy foreigners. USA will rise again!! Um, moving on...
I was especially touched tonight by the men's medley medal ceremony. (First, I should say that I was proud of our athletes for actually placing their hand on their hearts during the national anthem...you people, you should all do that! Seriously! A little respect please! Okay, no more soapbox. At least not about that.) What I was drawn to was first their age. They are so young. Not unlike our soldiers and Marines out there fighting for our flag in a completely different venue. These guys banded together, fought together (and sometimes against each other), and rocked it out. That's what I love about America. We may not have the hordes of people or the government-sponsored training or even the nicest equipement. We may be the underdogs. At least to the world. But when I look at America, what I see is spirit. We're fighters. We get a little teared up at the national anthem. Will-power can take you a long way. We have willpower. Determination. FREEDOM. These things make me proud to see the flag raised above the others in the ceremony. These things make me proud that our boys (and girls) are fighting their hearts out in an unpopular war just because they see a need and their leader told them to. These things make me proud that Kenny was a Marine, and that the kids and I took our turn sacrificing precious time with him and endured fear for his safety. This is AMERICA. Whether it's the olympics or the frontlines, Americans know how to fight and how to persevere. So, next time that anthem is played, quit staring at the gold medals. Quit staring at those cool, but slightly girlish, swim suits the guys are wearing. Focus on the flag, and think about all those who have fought for it in so many different ways. I LOVE AMERICA!!! (And for pete's sake, get that hand over that heart...) Sorry for the sermon...talk to you soon!
Of course, what the Chinese aren't considering is that in two weeks, when all this pomp and circumstance is finished, Americans will suddenly get an extra hour or two of sleep at night, collectively, while the Chinese will be wearing themselves out trying to clean up after all the filthy foreigners. USA will rise again!! Um, moving on...
I was especially touched tonight by the men's medley medal ceremony. (First, I should say that I was proud of our athletes for actually placing their hand on their hearts during the national anthem...you people, you should all do that! Seriously! A little respect please! Okay, no more soapbox. At least not about that.) What I was drawn to was first their age. They are so young. Not unlike our soldiers and Marines out there fighting for our flag in a completely different venue. These guys banded together, fought together (and sometimes against each other), and rocked it out. That's what I love about America. We may not have the hordes of people or the government-sponsored training or even the nicest equipement. We may be the underdogs. At least to the world. But when I look at America, what I see is spirit. We're fighters. We get a little teared up at the national anthem. Will-power can take you a long way. We have willpower. Determination. FREEDOM. These things make me proud to see the flag raised above the others in the ceremony. These things make me proud that our boys (and girls) are fighting their hearts out in an unpopular war just because they see a need and their leader told them to. These things make me proud that Kenny was a Marine, and that the kids and I took our turn sacrificing precious time with him and endured fear for his safety. This is AMERICA. Whether it's the olympics or the frontlines, Americans know how to fight and how to persevere. So, next time that anthem is played, quit staring at the gold medals. Quit staring at those cool, but slightly girlish, swim suits the guys are wearing. Focus on the flag, and think about all those who have fought for it in so many different ways. I LOVE AMERICA!!! (And for pete's sake, get that hand over that heart...) Sorry for the sermon...talk to you soon!
11 August 2008
A Holy Hug!
So, I had another weird dream last night. My high school friend Travis was inexplicably throwing pyrex casserole dishes at my head. It was weird. Travis is a good guy...definitely not the type to assault anyone, particularly with heavy kitchenware. Hmm...I'll have to ask him about that.
Last night we had home church at our house. Have I mentioned how much I love our home church? I had something difficult that I needed to bring to the group. I was really sweating it. This could have been an open door for Satan, but instead, God intervened. For starters, he sent two particular, and I think hand-picked, families to our house. The others all had other obligations. This was a blessing because I felt exceptionally free to speak my mind. And the beautiful thing is this: we had complete unity. There were so many points at which feelings could have been hurt or someone could have gotten angry, but instead I found that I was in a group of people who were already thinking the things I was saying. So, next week, as a unified front, we can bring these things up with the whole group. It was wonderful. When Kenny got home from work (he's on days again), I told him I felt like I had been hugged by the Holy Spirit. I have rarely seen a group of people with such singular purpose. It was wonderful. Thank you, Lord! This is His victory!
In response to the above paragraph, I want to say this: If you're living in Searcy, or if you go to Downtown church, or if you are just passing through. Whatever. Our homechurch is lookin' to grow. We'd love to have you. It is a place where I experience God's love, over and over, every single week. Join us!
I hope you all have a wonderful week! It's off to a roaring start!!
Last night we had home church at our house. Have I mentioned how much I love our home church? I had something difficult that I needed to bring to the group. I was really sweating it. This could have been an open door for Satan, but instead, God intervened. For starters, he sent two particular, and I think hand-picked, families to our house. The others all had other obligations. This was a blessing because I felt exceptionally free to speak my mind. And the beautiful thing is this: we had complete unity. There were so many points at which feelings could have been hurt or someone could have gotten angry, but instead I found that I was in a group of people who were already thinking the things I was saying. So, next week, as a unified front, we can bring these things up with the whole group. It was wonderful. When Kenny got home from work (he's on days again), I told him I felt like I had been hugged by the Holy Spirit. I have rarely seen a group of people with such singular purpose. It was wonderful. Thank you, Lord! This is His victory!
In response to the above paragraph, I want to say this: If you're living in Searcy, or if you go to Downtown church, or if you are just passing through. Whatever. Our homechurch is lookin' to grow. We'd love to have you. It is a place where I experience God's love, over and over, every single week. Join us!
I hope you all have a wonderful week! It's off to a roaring start!!
09 August 2008
The Kale-o-lympics
Sorry it's been so long. I've been in a mental black hole. Just sort of on auto-pilot for a few days, I guess. But, I'm back!! Yeehaw! Um, anyways...
So, Kale has been at daycamp at Camp Wyldewood all week. He's had a really, really good time. Especially because he's there with his good friend Asher. However, yesterday, in honor of the Olympics, Camp W decided to have it's on version of the Olympics. Kale (along with Asher, thank goodness!) was informed he would be representing Kenya. He had to wear a yellow/gold shirt to camp as his team jersey. Right away, I could tell that something was wrong. So, I asked him before he went to bed how he was feeling about the Camp W Olympics. "Not so good, mom," was his instant reply. "Kale, what's bothering you about the Olympics?" "Well, they said we all have to do it." "You don't want to do it?" "Well, I sort of want to." "Then, what's bothering you?" "We only can't do it all if we forget to bring swimming trunks." "So there will be swimming races?" "Yeah." "Kale, are you nervous about the Olympics?" "Yeah." It was heart-wrenching. Here's my son, going to bed, knowing that in the morning the camp he's enjoyed so much is going to have a scary thing that he's being forced to do. The thing is: I can relate. I remember as a child being terrified when I had to compete in sports against other children. I wasn't un-athletic. I think I just got really nervous about competing against other kids. What if I didn't measure up? What if I messed up? What if I looked stupid or inept? ( didn't know the word 'inept'...added that part later.) It wasn't until MUCH later that I enjoyed competition at all, and to this day the only competition I really enjoy is against myself. I do well if I"m trying to best myself...not so well when I'm competing against others. I guess that's how God made me to be. (It's funny I should feel that way...I'm a HUGE sports fan! I LOVE to watch others competing against each other! Ha!) So, sitting on Kale's bed, I'm trying hard to figure out what to say to him. Unfortunately, the only thing I could think of was, "Kale my advice is this: don't tell the other kids you are nervous or don't want to do it. Just gut it out and then it will be over. Be strong." Great advice, right? I'm not so sure. I felt bad even saying that to him. But I wish I had figured out at a much younger age how to conquer my fears and disguise my misgivings. I think things would have been better for me back then. It's hard as a parent, I think, to figure out how to draw a line between wanting to promote the personality that God so intentionally chose for your child and seeing remnants of your own personality that you want to spare your child from going through. Does that make any sense? I'm so proud of Kale. He's brilliantly smart (really), thoughtful, gentlemanly, helpful, he's a leader, even if he doesn't realize it yet, and he's already turning into a strong swimmer. There's so many things I could say about him that I love. And I hurt for him when he hurts. I want to spare him the trials I went though. We are so similar! At least I can rest in the consolation that I feel like I can really understand Kale. I know exactly where he's coming from. I get his motivations and his misgivings. He is definitely MY SON!! Thank you, Lord! Kale spent the night with Asher last night, so I haven't been able to ask him yet how things went at the Olympics. I'm nervous! I'll let you know what he says. Talk to you soon!
So, Kale has been at daycamp at Camp Wyldewood all week. He's had a really, really good time. Especially because he's there with his good friend Asher. However, yesterday, in honor of the Olympics, Camp W decided to have it's on version of the Olympics. Kale (along with Asher, thank goodness!) was informed he would be representing Kenya. He had to wear a yellow/gold shirt to camp as his team jersey. Right away, I could tell that something was wrong. So, I asked him before he went to bed how he was feeling about the Camp W Olympics. "Not so good, mom," was his instant reply. "Kale, what's bothering you about the Olympics?" "Well, they said we all have to do it." "You don't want to do it?" "Well, I sort of want to." "Then, what's bothering you?" "We only can't do it all if we forget to bring swimming trunks." "So there will be swimming races?" "Yeah." "Kale, are you nervous about the Olympics?" "Yeah." It was heart-wrenching. Here's my son, going to bed, knowing that in the morning the camp he's enjoyed so much is going to have a scary thing that he's being forced to do. The thing is: I can relate. I remember as a child being terrified when I had to compete in sports against other children. I wasn't un-athletic. I think I just got really nervous about competing against other kids. What if I didn't measure up? What if I messed up? What if I looked stupid or inept? ( didn't know the word 'inept'...added that part later.) It wasn't until MUCH later that I enjoyed competition at all, and to this day the only competition I really enjoy is against myself. I do well if I"m trying to best myself...not so well when I'm competing against others. I guess that's how God made me to be. (It's funny I should feel that way...I'm a HUGE sports fan! I LOVE to watch others competing against each other! Ha!) So, sitting on Kale's bed, I'm trying hard to figure out what to say to him. Unfortunately, the only thing I could think of was, "Kale my advice is this: don't tell the other kids you are nervous or don't want to do it. Just gut it out and then it will be over. Be strong." Great advice, right? I'm not so sure. I felt bad even saying that to him. But I wish I had figured out at a much younger age how to conquer my fears and disguise my misgivings. I think things would have been better for me back then. It's hard as a parent, I think, to figure out how to draw a line between wanting to promote the personality that God so intentionally chose for your child and seeing remnants of your own personality that you want to spare your child from going through. Does that make any sense? I'm so proud of Kale. He's brilliantly smart (really), thoughtful, gentlemanly, helpful, he's a leader, even if he doesn't realize it yet, and he's already turning into a strong swimmer. There's so many things I could say about him that I love. And I hurt for him when he hurts. I want to spare him the trials I went though. We are so similar! At least I can rest in the consolation that I feel like I can really understand Kale. I know exactly where he's coming from. I get his motivations and his misgivings. He is definitely MY SON!! Thank you, Lord! Kale spent the night with Asher last night, so I haven't been able to ask him yet how things went at the Olympics. I'm nervous! I'll let you know what he says. Talk to you soon!
01 August 2008
A Hail and Farewell
I woke up this morning with my mind all a-twitter. Is a-twitter a word? Here's one thing I really enjoy about God: There's nothing super-special going on right now. We're hanging out in Nashville. Headed to Searcy tomorrow. Shopping today. Just usual stuff. Yet, I woke up this morning with my mind excited and my heart full. I think sometimes God just gives me the "happy factor" for no particular reason...just a little gift. (Early birthday gift?) Thanks, Lord!
*Warning: The use of the world "tumult" in the following does not imply negative feelings. Quite the contrary! It simply refers, for my purposes, which should not be looked up in Webster's, as indicative of major change.*
So, I'm turning 30 on Tuesday. 30. Really. This idea is very strange to me. I think I've been sort of processing it over the past week or two. I thought for a long time that when I turned 30, I would be grieving the loss of my 20's. I thought I would feel old. I thought it would be a difficult transition. What I'm finding, however, is the opposite.
I'm sure all of you had perfectly lovely calm, mature, normal 20's. I'll just say I didn't. I think I came into my 20's in a bad place. I had just broken up with Jerk (see 'The Great Rembleski'). I was hurting inside in a huge way. And not finding much help outwardly because everyone knew Jerk was a jerk, so no one had any sympathy! (Except Brandon and Stephen. Thanks, guys!) Tumult. Then, I met Kenny. Tumult. Happy tumult, but tumult nonetheless. Then, we got married. More happy tumult. Then, we moved to Florida. Tumult. Then we moved to California. Tumult. Then we moved to Japan. Gulp! Then we had a baby. Gasp! Then we had another baby. Tumult. (I'm running out of cool words, so I'll revert to tumult henceforth.) Then Kenny deployed to Kuwait, and the YOUNG kids and I moved back to Searcy for that 7 months. Major tumult. Then, we moved to North Carolina. Tumult, but not big tumult. Seeing the light at the end of the 20's tunnel. Then we had another baby. If you know Archie, then you KNOW my next word is: tumult! I graduated (finally) from the University of Maryland online. Tumult. Kenny got out of the Marines. Tumult. We moved to Searcy. End tumult. For now.
So, my point is this: My 20's were a whole decade fraught with MAJOR change. There was no year in my 20's when one of the above events did not occur. That's a lot of life change in 10 years. Maybe more than most people go through. Maybe not. At any rate, we've not been very grounded, to say the least. And that is EXACTLY how we wanted it!! We have lived and loved every minute! (Except, perhaps for Kenny's deployment. That was legitimately hard. However, it did afford us great empathy for others in similar situations, which is/will be coming into great use.)
So, in a way, I'm glad to be putting my 20's behind me. We're in Searcy now. Our kids are in school. Actually, I'm going to be in school too! Kenny's done with the military. We're planning to be where we are for a long, long time. I think a nice, long decade of stability will be a welcome change. Of course, God will still keep my heart all a-twitter, and we're excited to see what the 30's hold...they could hold as much change as the 20's! But that would be a tall challenge, to be sure! I'm learning, slowly, to keep some white space in my life. Empty the calendar a bit. Breathe a little. This is an art my 20's did not afford me to master. This white space is allowing me to focus on my God, my family, and my friends. I'm looking forward to more knowledge. I'm looking forward to learning to like me better. I'm looking forward to seeing my children go from tykes to teens. These things will happen in my 30's.
So, thanks, everyone, for all the birthday wishes (and gifts...I know you'll send them!!), and thank you, God, for carrying me through my 20's when I thought I couldn't walk anymore. And for all the special moments...there were many. And for all the amazing thick water friendships you sent me/us. And for all the forgiveness and love. I love you too.
*Warning: The use of the world "tumult" in the following does not imply negative feelings. Quite the contrary! It simply refers, for my purposes, which should not be looked up in Webster's, as indicative of major change.*
So, I'm turning 30 on Tuesday. 30. Really. This idea is very strange to me. I think I've been sort of processing it over the past week or two. I thought for a long time that when I turned 30, I would be grieving the loss of my 20's. I thought I would feel old. I thought it would be a difficult transition. What I'm finding, however, is the opposite.
I'm sure all of you had perfectly lovely calm, mature, normal 20's. I'll just say I didn't. I think I came into my 20's in a bad place. I had just broken up with Jerk (see 'The Great Rembleski'). I was hurting inside in a huge way. And not finding much help outwardly because everyone knew Jerk was a jerk, so no one had any sympathy! (Except Brandon and Stephen. Thanks, guys!) Tumult. Then, I met Kenny. Tumult. Happy tumult, but tumult nonetheless. Then, we got married. More happy tumult. Then, we moved to Florida. Tumult. Then we moved to California. Tumult. Then we moved to Japan. Gulp! Then we had a baby. Gasp! Then we had another baby. Tumult. (I'm running out of cool words, so I'll revert to tumult henceforth.) Then Kenny deployed to Kuwait, and the YOUNG kids and I moved back to Searcy for that 7 months. Major tumult. Then, we moved to North Carolina. Tumult, but not big tumult. Seeing the light at the end of the 20's tunnel. Then we had another baby. If you know Archie, then you KNOW my next word is: tumult! I graduated (finally) from the University of Maryland online. Tumult. Kenny got out of the Marines. Tumult. We moved to Searcy. End tumult. For now.
So, my point is this: My 20's were a whole decade fraught with MAJOR change. There was no year in my 20's when one of the above events did not occur. That's a lot of life change in 10 years. Maybe more than most people go through. Maybe not. At any rate, we've not been very grounded, to say the least. And that is EXACTLY how we wanted it!! We have lived and loved every minute! (Except, perhaps for Kenny's deployment. That was legitimately hard. However, it did afford us great empathy for others in similar situations, which is/will be coming into great use.)
So, in a way, I'm glad to be putting my 20's behind me. We're in Searcy now. Our kids are in school. Actually, I'm going to be in school too! Kenny's done with the military. We're planning to be where we are for a long, long time. I think a nice, long decade of stability will be a welcome change. Of course, God will still keep my heart all a-twitter, and we're excited to see what the 30's hold...they could hold as much change as the 20's! But that would be a tall challenge, to be sure! I'm learning, slowly, to keep some white space in my life. Empty the calendar a bit. Breathe a little. This is an art my 20's did not afford me to master. This white space is allowing me to focus on my God, my family, and my friends. I'm looking forward to more knowledge. I'm looking forward to learning to like me better. I'm looking forward to seeing my children go from tykes to teens. These things will happen in my 30's.
So, thanks, everyone, for all the birthday wishes (and gifts...I know you'll send them!!), and thank you, God, for carrying me through my 20's when I thought I couldn't walk anymore. And for all the special moments...there were many. And for all the amazing thick water friendships you sent me/us. And for all the forgiveness and love. I love you too.
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