I bought a candle this color yesterday. It smells like fake evergreen.
Not like fake pine which smell like a bathroom from the 1980's, but
like one of those gigantic trees outside my window. Only fake.
I was thinking today about the fact that it's hard for me to reconcile
the loving Father God, and the disciplinarian Father God. I can almost
always see quickly the purpose of the pain in my life whether it be
emotional or spiritual. Having been confronted with 3 full months of
debilitating pain i had to look for a deeper purpose than suffering.
Right from the beginning, well after I started to take it seriously, I
became aware of many things which i have already written about.
Then I started to see it effect other people. Drawing them closer to
God and causing us to all be more vulnerable with one another.
(which I resisted all the way.)
It seems inevitable that at some point we ask, "Why did You let this
happen to me?" I know You are more interested in my character than
my comfort, but that knowledge increases my discomfort. If I struggle
with trust allowing that to continually taint my everyday life, and by this
I mean trying to take care of things that are better left to God and
worrying and making sure I get mine... how am I ever going to
get past that if when I need you most I find more pain?
I mean do You love and protect me or not?
We all know the answer to that. I am just really feeling tried and
pressed and left out to dangle in the wind. I want the protective Daddy
to rally when things go wrong and to honor my faith when I ask Him
to heal me. I want my ability to trust Him to be more important than
my learning lessons and bringing others closer to Him. I want to be
His most precious daughter and for nothing to get past His ever
watchful eye.
That's what I want.

It seems the answers these days are always
found in vulnerability.
Deeper and deeper levels of vulnerability.
I do so hate this.

What a freaking week!
What a disaster the last 2 months have been!
I was thinking tonight that I don't think I ever felt
like Jesus ever really needed to die for my sins.
I believe that He did and that His blood has
covered my past in forgiveness, but I don't think in
the shallow layers of my consciousness that I ever
felt like I had done anything that was necessary for
Him to die for.
I think deep down. Down farther than I have ever
cared to let myself see, let alone anyone else,
down there I have secretly felt I was and still am
such a cheating, lying, thieving, hateful, worthless,
looser that His death couldn't possibly cover it all.
Believing this lie has tainted every aspect of my life.
May God renew my mind tonight as I sleep, a deep,
peaceful sleep, about exactly what He has done for
me and just who it is that I am to Him.
May He do the same for you.

I've been watching Stranger Than Fiction again.
When I got here a year ago I watched it every
night as I fell asleep.
There is a love story and a writer and Will Ferrell.
All the parts of everything I need included.
Today as I watched I wondered about my own
story. I wondered if all of the details that I
consider to be embarrassing or hurtful or unique
or interesting were parts of what makes my
character me.
Like the fact that I can not eat all day and then
like to have food in the evening. According to
doctors that is a prescription for weight gain.
And what about the weight? What if it is instead
of a source of anger and frustration for me it was
just a part of what made my character different?
Made me unique and even more of an amazing
person because despite her size she was able
to find and create a serious sense of style.
And as for my fears and opinions and gifts and
talents, all of these are details that deepen my
character and propel us through the story
and keep us interested...
So my double chin is character in the story.
My funny way of walking while I am still hurt is
a character in the story.
An interesting fact - I love sugar!
My past comes in flashbacks that fill us in on why
the things that are happening now are so amazing.
All of the things in my life, all of the things about
me, all of the people around me are pieces of a
story. A story that matters. A story of real
interest. A story in which I write the pages and
I decide to love or hate, to go or stay, to live or
to die. For some reason this makes me happier.
This makes me feel more accepting of myself.
The idea that I am a character in a story that ties
my life to the lives of every person who lived a
life; a story that ties me to my own life and
for some reason encourages me to live my life.
Keeping in mind that I am who I am because my
character was written this way and all of the things,
good and bad that make me me and cause me
joy and pain, all of these things are mine.
And yours.
And His.
And they belong to history. Time before mine
and for the rest of time to come.
My life is a movie, a novel, a character driven
story. In it I am uneasy and I am excited.
Right now.
What happens next?
Turn the page.

As I cried and cried and neared the end of The Red Tent; I
felt somehow tied to this story. Tied to the women and
to the history. It made me feel like my own story is just
a small part in a story that had begun the first moment
Eve drew her first breath. It continued in my life as in
hers as I was the assertive one who hastened the end of my
marriage. (Her actions of course created the end of life.)
I read in this book about women who were mothers and
daughters and sisters and wives. I saw myself in their
feelings and experiences.
This comparison was made wonderful by the fact that
this story takes place in biblical times. The times before
Jesus. In Jacob's day. It made these characters real
and gave me a woman's perspective on life, love, and
faith during that time.
I realize it is a work of fiction based on some real characters
in the Bible. I also realize that the intire Bible was
translated by men and usually for men since in the times
of the translations women were not educated for the
most part. That fact has always made the Bible read
as fiction for me. It has been a struggle to take in all
of the stories as more than tales. As an adult, and a
Christian by choice, I have chosen to believe them as
memories and factual accounts of the life and times of
God's chosen people which now includes me. And now
because of this book... the Bible is mine.

I am not a dancer; I do not need the body of a dancer
beautiful though they are.
I am not a supermodel therefore I do not need
(crazy beautiful though they are)
the body of a freak of nature.
I am not a rock climber and thus do not need
the muscles of a champion wrestler.
I am not marathon runner and though I envy
their high carb diet, this means I do not need
a runner's body.
I am a writer and from what I have seen
real writers lean to the heavy set
(which is where I naturally and most comfortably belong).
Writers sit and write.
We walk slowly and notice everything.
We read, which also involves a sedentary agreement.
I happen to enjoy having my cat in my lap
having a lap requires a seated position.
Am I psyched to be most comfortable in sweat pants?
No.
Do most writers probably wear sweat pants?
Yes.
I will learn to exude a serene confidence in my sweat pants.
The other option is to continue to be at war with my
body and use copious amounts of brain time considering
what was eaten, what is eaten, and what will be eaten.
I hope to land somewhere in between sweat pants in public
and continued pointless torture.

i am afraid of letting it all slip away
and instead of regretting 10 wasted years
during my twenties
i will have wasted a lifetime.