'One More Step' by Rachel Mojo

Sometimes you read a book and a particular emotion or thought stays with you.  Might be good, or the opposite, but still, something lingers.  With Rachel Mojo's book, One More Step---the taste left is a sweetness.

She's lived through a lot of pain, including a failed marriage, a marriage to another believer no less, to a man who appeared to just let go, yet even great effort couldn't save it.  She has a daughter with a life-limiting disease, which maybe more than anything else in her life has lent her that sweetness.  She's not bitter, but worn and sensitive to others who have experienced or are living through disappointments.  Those times when life surprises, and not in a good way.

One thing that struck me more than anything else was this:  In the discussion questions she asks, "Have you ever received permission from a friend to ache freely?  If so, how did it make you feel?"

I find that awesome and a bit sad.  We tend to stuff our pain inside, not sharing, being ashamed of what we live with.  Rachel tells us to not feel bad about what God allows, but to grow with it.  She speaks of a word she heard Him speak to her:

"Girl, when you feel like giving up, that is definitely not the time to give up.  When you feel like giving up, that is when you need to rely on my strength and remember my promises.  The feeling of wanting to give up is temporary; the joy you seek is permanent.  True joy is not relevant to physical location or type of service.  True joy can be found only in me."

(i received this book to review from blogging for books)

'Lay it Down' by Bill Tell

Bill Tell, a former VP with the Navigators, suffered a major breakdown just prior to a 4-day missions conference held away from his home.  His wife went to that day's services, and he stayed behind in their friend's guest bedroom, hoping the anxiety would pass.  Nonetheless, he went to the evening's service, but only felt worse.  He was terrified.  The anxiety didn't go away, and he spent the next ten months going to doctors, taking anti-depressant medicines---anything to help the situation.

Finally, with the help of a respected Christian counselor, Bill was able to find relief.  

The bottom line was that he had lived his whole life trying to please others, and was never able to believe he was good enough---thinking he was of less worth than those he ministered to.  There was no peace or victory, just pain.

I was encouraged that a man in such a place of responsibility was willing to share this story.  Folks go around with a game face on, pretending to be able to manage, all the while dying inside.  He goes into great detail about events in his childhood provided part of the pattern of self-hate, if you want to call it that.

In the book, he goes through steps of recovery. He says, "I would figure out everyone's expectations of me, and I would meet and surpass every one.  I would be everything people wanted and approved of.  Little did I know it would lead me straight into captivity, the captivity of being a people-pleaser."

He stresses Romans 8:1 which says, "There is....no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

"...some of us punish ourselves for the sins we commit, sometimes continuing to do so for years. We feel we deserve to be the victim of our sins, to feel bad, to be punished, so we wage war on ourselves, beating ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually.....We demean ourselves.  Sometimes we try to earn God's love back by doing something meritorious, sacrificial, or heroic."

Exactly.  Lay it Down is a wonderful book for those of us who fit the 'not good enough' profile.

(i received this book free to review from tyndale)

The day after...

Everyone who works outside the house is away from home now.  Husband at his shop, and oldest daughter at the bookstore.  Youngest son, who's house-sitting some church friends over the holiday, is here.  He sleeps there and then we pick him up noon-ish, he spends the day, then goes back after dinner.  Pretty lucrative gig.

The girls are quiet.  Middle one is writing quotes in one of her notebooks and listening to music and the least is watching The Secret Garden.  I'm roasting a thirteen pound turkey (just a baby), as opposed to the 21 pounder from yesterday.  After the boys took home leftovers, it was, pretty much, picked over.  Today's is just for us.  Making another smaller pan of stuffing as well.  We're kind of greedy turkey eaters.

Son who has a male companion texted a photo of his full plate to him, and he asked if our son could bring some leftovers home.  I had to laugh.  They'd been to the other boy's mom's house for lunch earlier in the day, and our son came here for dinner.  Trying to, at least, get my head around him having a boyfriend.  Man, it's hard.  Makes you cock your head, saying, HUH?  Anyway, I fixed a plate to take to him.  I admit, we do a bang-up Thanksgiving table.  My mother's heart wants to invite him to our Christmas dinner, but not sure what my husband would say to me even bringing it up.  My husband did crack a smile when I shared about our son's young man wanting the leftovers.  He is someone's son, just as our boy is.

Wisdom is often so elusive.

Yesterday was a blessing.  Really.  All the boys in town came for dinner, and we got a call from son in California.  Everyone here seemed to have a good time---nothing much to add.  No drama.  Much prayer offered up beforehand.  Hard to sit still after they left, knowing their lives are such a worldly wasteland.  Married son and his wife delivered house-sitting son to his destination after our meal, and when they'd left, the girls said married son had been drinking before he got here.  Thankfully, his wife drove them when they left.  I'll tell you----our kids are so curious about what's out there and sometimes don't seem to want to rein it in.  We're tee-totallers at our house (husband's past makes us so), and to even think about drinking is out of our frame of reference.  

Turning off my brain.  The rest of the day should be nice and restful.  Window's up, sprinkling outside.  Thinking we won't get any cold weather.  Folks just west of us are getting ice, but I believe we'll be spared that.  Thankful for that and many things.  

Hope you're well.  Take care.

A brief, quiet moment

~milk giving me the death stare

Milk, chicken of my heart, is now molting and has a big bare spot on her duff.  She just waddles around like everything's fine, which is wonderful.  In strict contrast to Anastasia who appeared to be suffering from a stroke.  She'd have to trace alongside the coop fence to get where she was going, since she couldn't run in a straight line.  Thankfully she's fine now.  Must mess with their nervous systems, all that feather dropping.  (The above-photo is from last week, when Anastasia would get trapped in the corners of the yard, indicated, and when Milk was still gorgeous.)

House is relatively tidy.  The girls have been awesome.  The least one polished our sweet collection of silver (all from my dear friend, Tina, but about three serving pieces and a fork and some knives from my grandparents), a job she loved.  Middle daughter has spent the last two days freshening up the paint in our 'only' bathroom.  Sixty plus years of yuck in that room, which has always been a major eyesore.  We're only the third owners of this house, but the second owners were self-improvement junkies, sadly they were amateurs.  Plastered 12" ceiling tiles indiscriminately, put up paneling (which we immediately painted over) and hung Masonite on the bathroom walls.  Still, I love the house, but like all of us, it has its flaws.  Tall son, the one in California, remarked on the bathroom ceiling last time he was in town, which has the tiles.  They're coming loose around the fan, and he said they looked about to fall.  I reminded him that they've been doing that for years.  And if they fall, they'll fall softly.

Not on my radar.

Resting now.  Scrambled eggs and buttered toast for dinner.  Church service.  The girls will make pies when we get back home.  We're on a roll, and I ain't lettin' nothin' get me down.

Take care all.

The countdown begins...

The holidays, hold for me, stress that's not present at other times.  Tension that seems to pool in my chest.  Anxiety that seems necessary.  

I'm learning that my life has paths woven in it that are difficult, and it's hard sometimes to find a peaceful place in my heart, but I'm determined to find that place.  To not give in to the pressures that come at me from the outside of this house.  Fortunately this time, it's not about my children.  Something to celebrate.  But from my mother and her needs.  Her inability to communicate well enough, and her child-like forgetfulness.  It's hard.

To want a day for myself that doesn't feel the drag of need.  Of frustration.  Of not doing things well-enough.  Even in her stoke-laden brain, she presses me to do things that are more than what I can manage.  Demands, though small, are just one more thing.  The straw that breaks the camel's back.

I'm done.

Tomorrow I will hold up with my girls and bake.  Play Christmas music and vacuum and dust.  Sweep the kitchen floor.  Close out the world.  Maybe go to church for Thanksgiving's services.  Sit in the dim, candlelit and quiet atmosphere of church and drink in the silence.

My health demands that I place limits on my time.  To say no, and to say it frequently.  To be good enough.  

I worry that this anxiety with become a permanent guest.  No.  I have to separate myself from everything right now that doesn't bless me.  If that sounds selfish, then maybe more of us should be selfish.  Our lifestyles seem to draw too much life out of us.  And with tending to my mom, along with help from my family in this house, it's a drain.  Those who live out of town have no idea.  But I understand that.

Here at the very beginning of the holiday season, it's important to take care.  Self-care.  And I'm thinking I'm not the only one who needs to heed this.  You (me) are the only one who can.  If it's not life-threatening what's asked of you, maybe say no.  Life has the quality of texting now.  Do it now.  No.

(listening on Spotify to Ray Montagne's For the Summer and Adele's Hello)

Pre-Thanksgiving thoughts

Brief post.  Cut my little finger on my left hand while arranging the flowers at church yesterday... those secateurs are sharp.  Hard to type with a huge gob of gauze and tape on my finger. Sympathetic noises appreciated.

Bought all we needed for Thanksgiving dinner today, including a stop tonight at the dollar store for new glasses that actually match.  Little green stemware that ought to play off of our red/white transferware nicely.

Went out by myself yesterday after church, because I could, and knew the week would be busy.  Had a book I was going to get at the library, but found it and the rest of the matching trilogy at the library bookstore....Sigrid Undset's Kristin Lavransdatter series.  And Rosamunde Pilcher's Christmas book and two little Jan Karon children's Christmas books.  I'm consistently amazed at what I find there, and so inexpensive.  Best kept secret in town.

Well, tomorrow is cleaning and decorating for Thanksgiving Day.  Wednesday is Making Pie and Tearing Up White Bread for My Husband's Yankee Stuffing Day.  Tonight I rest.

Y'all take care.

Saturday night

Something acted up with our electricity on Friday, which may require my husband installing a new switch box (which he bought today), and it sent me into a panic, something that's easily done. Fell asleep last night in a totally fearful state.  I told my husband that my mind often goes to the place of the 'worst case scenerio' and he jokes that it must s*ck to be me.  Had to laugh.  He doesn't get this sort of fear, being able to blow things off.  But you know, rarely does that other shoe ever drop.  I should know this.

This morning as I was sitting having my tea with Violet the Pug in my lap, I spoke to the Lord about this dilemma of mine.  This fear. Visualized Him sitting near me, speaking such love.  Quieting my flying heart.  Do I even understand how He wishes me to not be so traumatized by such simple (and easily remedied) situations?  Probably not.  My stress level this year maxed out.  Guess this is normal.  Least for me until I get my mental health back.  We're working on it. 

* * *

Oldest daughter and I went out for the afternoon today, which was very healing.  Went to lunch and then to a small town just to the east of us.  One of the shops in the Town Square was having a sale and will be closing after the new year begins.  I was able to find some linens (two sets of cloth napkins and a tablecloth), and will give some of the brocade napkins to married son and his wife along with a decorating book for Christmas.  Love this sort of shopping.  I spent only nine dollars on these things.  Amazing.  Also got a Confederate Flag pin to wear on my denim jacket.  Quite honestly, it was my favorite purchase.

As we walked around the Square as we were ready to leave, we noticed a bluegrass band practicing in the gazebo, preparing for a wedding.  With both autumn and Christmas decorations round about, the green looked so pretty.  White folding chairs set up, the groomsmen in grey tuxes and bridesmaids wearing beautiful black dresses, it was all wonderfully festive.  And hopeful.  Though very windy!

* * *

Seems tomorrow will be the lull before the true busyness begins.  It's the last Sunday to have flowers to arrange because other women handle the Advent Poinsettias and altar decorating.  I'll have a break, which will be grand.  I enjoy doing the flowers, but time off will be nice---not ashamed to admit that.

Time to turn off my head.  Looking forward to Sunday.

(listening to You Are God Alone by the Women of Faith)