Wednesday, September 11, 2013

33 Things I Love About My Husband On His 33rd Birthday

33.  I love it when you ask me to spell words for you.
32.  I love the way you roughhouse with our little boy.
31.  I love that you love to wear ties.
30.  I love the way you will organize a meal for guests.
29.  I love how you will watch the beginning of Brave or Shrek thousands of times without complaining so that Luke can enjoy the movie for a few minutes.
28.  I love the way you play with our little boy when I am under the weather.
27.  I love when you pair food and wine together.
26.  I love how excited you are over a new pair of shoes.
25.  I love your treasures from all over the world.
24.  I love that you will make late night runs for chocolate when we have none at home.
23.  I love that you like to shop.
22.  I love how you abhor fast food.
21.  I love how you want to eat organic food and Ramen noodles.
20.  I love it when you get up in the middle of the night with our son.
19.  I love how you get excited over homemade anything.
18.  I love the way you give me a hug and tell me everything will be okay.
17.  I love your ability to laugh at yourself.
16.  I love your desire to have only the best of anything.
15.  I love your attention to details.
14.  I love the chocolates you make.
13.  I love how big you dream.
12.  I love that you take care of the cars.
11.  I love how you despise bad coffee.
10.  I love how you enjoy a good cup of coffee.
9.  I love that you read nonfiction books.
8.  I love your willingness to discuss difficult issues.
7.  I love how you can cook anything better than a restaurant.
6.  I love your loyalty to friends near and far.
5.  I love how all of your goals focus on helping missionaries.
4.  I love your close relationship with your parents.
3.  I love how you will work a full day and come home and make dinner when I am tired.
2.  I love how tenderhearted you are.
1.  I love the way you love the LORD.

You are the man of my dreams.  You are the man I prayed for.  Happy birthday Handsome.



Monday, August 5, 2013

To Thine Own Self be True


Polonius:
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!

Hamlet Act 3

Confessions:

1.  I don't drink soda, coke, pop or whatever it is called.  I have had an occasional Sprite while sick, but have otherwise abstained since 2005.

2.  I find it amusing when people post on Facebook how to hide their personal phone numbers, but have the year they graduated high school and often their favorite food and childhood pets are hidden somewhere within their photos.  With so many women using their maiden name as their middle name Facebook it doesn't take much to figure out your mother's maiden name even without the family tree app.  Just do a check in at a bank and your account could probably be accessed using information on your social media page.

3.  "Can I give you some advice," or "would you like some advice," raise my blood pressure.  Since I was a small child I have felt this way.  It is the equivalent of saying I am stupid or haven't thought things through.

4.  I love hearing differing perspectives on most anything, but that does not mean that I will change my mind to agree with you.  I will only debate with those who have an open mind and are open to hearing my take on things.

5.  I never understood why girls have to go in groups to the bathroom or talked about their BFFs behind their backs.  I will not say anything unedifying behind your back and I expect the same in return.  Frienemies need not call or text.

6.  There are three compliments I have been paid that keep me going when I feel down.
A.  I always thought you had the perfect body.
B.  You live your life like a Christian.  Underline Christian.
C.  She is the epitome of what every Christian man wants in a wife.  (Spoken to a friend.)
Perhaps it is most ironic that the first two compliments came from two gay, male friends.  

7.  I am an introvert.  When I am packing moving boxes, cooking dinner, or even shopping, I like to do it alone.  I know most people don't get this.

8.  I do not like to be the center of attention unless I have a defined role such as teacher, presenter or speaker.  Having a wedding or baby shower thrown in my honor stresses me out.  I love the fellowship and of course the gifts, but more than 3-4 people together overwhelms me even when I know all of them.

9.   I have stuck up for my husband's ex-wife a few times.  Whenever I hear of conflict between two people I my best to understand both sides of the argument.  I can understand why she may have responded the way she did a few times because I would (and did) feel the same way in my first marriage.

10.  For years my least favorite day of the year was Mother's Day.  I used to skip church on Mother's Day to avoid a crying fit when all mothers were asked to stand while I sat by myself.  I find no fault with any childless woman who despises this day.

11.  Greeting time at church is the most stressful time of the week for me.  If there is a church that does not have this built into the service I would go there.

12.  I have struggled with my body image since I was in the second grade and began binging and purging when I was 17.  2008 was my last episode of food purging and 2009 was the last time I exercised excessively.

13.  I do not care what is in style.  If I like something I will wear it and if I don't, I won't.  I like things that are classic with a retro flair from the 60's.    

14.  I was 30 when I had my first (and only so far) child.  At church I was often made to feel like a second class person because of my childlessness.  Working in the nursery was a tortuous reminder of what I was missing.

15.  I have the memory of an elephant, or at least I used to.  I can remember random details from insignificant interactions.  My brain seeks patterns which it stores in massive vaults.  My husband says I am psychic, but I am not.  I have successfully predicted 7 pregnancies based on watching husbands and wives interact or random facebook posts.  

16.  I am a feeler.  I base decisions on whether or not something feels right regardless of what makes sense.  If I say something feels right, that is the decision I will go with.  If something doesn't feel right, I will make a decision against it.

17.  Negative, anxious, and over-emotional people stress me out.

18.  I have a college degree and enough post-grad credits for 2 Master's degrees and yet I love being a stay at home mommy.  I know it goes against feminism, but there is nothing I love more than playing with my little boy and keeping house.




Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Green With Facebook

Envy - n. A feeling of discontent or resentful longing caused by someone else's possessions, qualities or luck.  v.  desire to have a quality, possession or other attribute belonging to someone else:  I envy her house, car, hair, personality, etc.

I have a disease.  It effects me most days sometimes lasting for seconds, sometimes lasting for minutes and sometimes lasting for days.  Its symptoms include: knots in my stomach, feelings of depression, and a strong desire for more.

When I log onto Facebook to see what is going on around the world, and I get to glimpse into the lives of those on my friend list.  There are people on my list who have known me for years and some I have yet to meet in person.  There are people on five continents and some who live in my hometown.  There are people advanced degrees and some still in high school.  There are mothers of many and some who long for the day they can announce their pregnancy.

Don't get me wrong.  I love rejoicing with the news of a new pregnancy, new house, or new relationship.  I experience sorrow when I see those I know experiencing a difficult time.  I realize that Facebook is like a newsflash of what is happening to those I care about and because of that I haven't stopped using it despite my disease.

I become envious of cool and exciting new jobs.  I become envious of big, new, beautifully decorated houses.  I become envious and exotic vacations.  I become envious of the adventures my missionary get friends experience.  I am envious of those with 3,000 friends and counting.  My vision goes green and I wonder what I could have done differently to get these things.

What would my life be like if I hadn't wasted my early twenties?  What would life be like if my parents had encouraged me to find my own identity and guided me towards hobbies that developed my natural talents?  What would life be like if I.........

My problem with facebook is that it not only leads me into a downward spiral of envy for things I do not really want, but it causes me to second guess some major life decisions.  It can change my feelings of contentment into feelings of despair in one click.

What is the cure for this disease called facebook envy?  It is reality.  It is counting the blessing that I have.  It is remembering that I usually only post positive experiences.  It is knowing that all my facebook friends have no idea that I am exhausted because the toddler I posted pictures of has been up since 4:00 a.m. throwing a blood curling tantrum for cookies I don't have.  It is knowing that the exciting new job my friend has would drive me mad.  It is knowing that my missionary friends will have experiences I will only get to see in pictures, but I have a 24 hour Starbucks less than a mile from my house.  It is realizing that others are experiencing the same feelings I am.  Right now I am living the life I imagined in September 2002 while eating lunch at my computer during my first month of teaching.  The only difference between fantasy and reality is that I am in Texas and not Boise.  I am a stay at home mommy with a loving husband doing what I love; going to school.  Suddenly, life seems pretty good.


Thursday, June 6, 2013

Cooking Lessons From Mammy

Tomorrow is my Mammy's birthday.  I don't know why, but this year I feel especially connected to her.     I want her to know how special she is to me and to all of my cousins.  I always felt cherished by her even though she nothing different for me than she did for her other granddaughters.  Mammy had four of them and I am pretty sure we would all say the same things about her.

Mammy was retired by the time I could remember and remember her I can.  She always had time to teach me; she taught me to cook, sew, plant a garden.  I have longed to be able to crochet beautiful afghans like the ones she made for all her children and a few great-grandchildren.  Numerous times Mammy sat with me, a needle and a ball of yarn.  She made it look so easy and my clumsy fingers just couldn't do it.

I would spend summers at her house and every day I helped her make lunch.  My brothers, cousins and I would pull the wagon out to the garden and pick squash, zucchini, beans, cucumbers, peas, tomatoes, peppers, dig potatoes and at the end of summer we had watermelons and cantaloups.  In the afternoons we would play dress up in her old cloths, shell peas while watching tv, and climb her big tree.

When I think of home, I think of her home.  When I think of Thanksgiving and Christmas I think of helping her make the shopping list, baking pies, and making candy.  When I think of a happy place I think of her farm.  When I have a pickle, I think of the hot summer afternoons spent in the kitchen watching her over the pressure cooker.

A writing assignment I gave every year asked my students to explain their scariest moment.  I always shared about the time I was six and a thunderstorm knocked the power out in the late evening while Mammy was trying to get all six of her grandchildren bathed.  She had six grandchildren that summer and only the help of her husband.  We roamed through the house, hand in hand, gathering mattresses and slept on the floor in the play room.

The summer I graduated college and accepted my first teaching job, Mammy's mind deteriorated with Alzheimer's.  My schedule was flexible so I was fortunate enough to spend time with her.  She told me things I had never heard before.  She told be about being pregnant with my Aunt Janice.  She told me about having a baby while her husband took a nap in the car.  She told me how she had just moved and couldn't find her clothes.  She told me I was a great cook who could make something from nothing I told her I had a good teacher.

For a long time thereafter she would call me sister, daughter, niece, and friend until she no longer spoke.  I am not sure if she ever again knew exactly who I was, but I know she always knew I belonged to her and that was good enough for me.

The saddest day of my life was when I realized that she would never know my children.  I grieved that thought for years, but by the time she passed I had come to terms with it.  Oh me of little faith I was.  I have faith that she is heaven and that she and my children will meet there someday.

Happy Birthday Mammy, my hero.

 

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Trying to be More Like Mary Than Martha

I will admit that I am sometimes jealous when I discover books with a title that I have considered for my imaginary book. Yes, I am an aspiring writer and completing a novel is on my bucket list.  There is a book titled Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World.  It is on my to read list as I am intrigued by the title.

I often find myself walking a fine line between busyness and fellowship.  Mary and Martha were sisters who lived together.  When Jesus came to visit them, Mary sat at his feet and listened to his stories while Martha served the others.  Martha complained about this and Jesus sided with Mary.  Luke 10:38-42

My perfectionistic tendencies are rooted in observations I made of women during my early years.  By this, I mean women gossiping and picking apart one another (their friends) for any reason imaginable; weight, hair, clothes (or lack thereof), discipline techniques and how clean the house was.

Remembering the harshness of these words, I have always tried to appear perfect and keep a spotless house.  In fact, that is how Josh described my apartment when he first met me.  It was pretty simple to keep a spotless home with only one adult living there who was at work most of the time.  When we got married, Josh would help me keep things in order.

Now, though, I stay at home with a toddler.  Two people are always home.  The record player in my head has, until recently, continued playing the soundtrack laid when I was young.  Over the past few months I have worked on having a messier house.  I do not dust weekly any longer.  I do not pull the furniture away from the wall and vacuum twice a week.  I do not dust the plant ledge in the kitchen monthly.  These are things I have consciously not done and it is honestly driving me a little crazy.

However, I am overall more relaxed now because I do not need to constantly clean.  I get to spend a few extra hours with my toddler making a mess we might or might not pick up, digging worms in the garden and filling his swimming pool with mud.

Monday, June 3, 2013

You Had Me At.....The Story of How Josh and I Met

Isaiah 54:1-8
"Sing, O barren,
You who have not borne!
Break forth into singing, and cry aloud,
You who have not labored with child!
For more are the children of the desolate,
Than the children of the married woman," says the Lord.
"Enlarge the place of your tent,
And let them stretch out the curtains of your dwellings;
Do not spare; lengthen your cords,
And strengthen your stakes.
For you shall expand to the right and to the left,
And your descendants will inherit the nations,
And make the desolate cities inhabited.
Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed;
Neither be disgraced, for you will not be put to shame.
For you will forget the shame of your youth,
And will not remember the reproach of your widowhood anymore.
For you Maker is your husband,
The Lord of hosts is His name;
And your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel;
He is called the God of the whole earth.
For the Lord has called you
Like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, like a youthful wife when you were refused,"
Says the Lord.
"For a mere moment I have forsaken you,
But with great mercies I will gather you.
With a little wrath I hid My face from you for a moment;
But with everlasting kindness I will have mercy on you,"
Says the Lord, your Redeemer.

A friend of mine gave me these verses in the fall of 2006.  I wrote them out on notecards and stuck them on my fridge.  Every day for two years I read over them.  

In August 2008 I travel to Newcastle, England where I would spend the next several months teaching primary school.  I had been officially divorced for exactly one year on the day I left.  In that time I went on many dates with several different guys.  It's not that these men weren't prince charming, they just weren't my prince charming.

I scribbled Isaiah 54 1:8 onto notecards and tacked them to a cork board in the kitchen of my English flat.  I read over these notecards daily, but it as mainly out of habit.  Living in England was one of my heart's desires so surely God would answer the other desires of my heart.  What were the desires of my heart?  What was I looking for in a life partner?  So many things that I thought were important did not seem to be present in the guys I was attracting.

I pondered this on a drive from Glasgow to Newcastle one Sunday afternoon.  I determined that I wanted a partner who was from the United States, preferably the South.  Tennessee would be okay, though I wasn't sure why, but I most certainly wanted him to have family in Texas since that is where my family lived.  On top of that, he must want to live overseas, somewhere, anywhere.  The place was not what was important to me, just the desire to live outside the U.S.

A few weeks later I was riding a train from Aberdeen to Newcastle when I decided what most people would think obvious.  Prior to this, I thought I would be fine with a partner who respected my faith and was okay with me attending church regularly.  My parents did not attend church, read their Bibles or even pray in front of my brothers and me when we were little, so I thought one out of two parents demonstrating faith would be fine.  I knew that it was unbiblical to be unequally yoked and that had led to the downfall of my previous marriage.  Why was going to allow this to happen again and why would I bring my children up in a home divided on the spiritual front?

On top of that I had a real problem with porn.  I did not like porn and had been labeled a prude in this category by many.  I know myself, I know my struggles with body image and feeling attractive.  Several men and women have tried to convince me that porn was completely acceptable.  My stance had been that I was not going to tell anyone what to do, but that I would not participate in it.  Only, my heart's desire was to have a spouse who viewed porn as I did; lusting after another and therefore adulterous.  My list seem ominous.  Finding a spouse who met this criteria seemed impossible.

On Tuesday afternoon of half-term break I prayed over this list.  Then I did something I had not done in a very long time; I reread Isaiah 54:1-8 and meditated on it.  I really meditated on it.  I prayed that God would take my desire to be a wife and mother away or that a spouse would be provided who met this criteria.  I began adding things to the list and in the end this is what I had:
1.  Active Christian faith
2.  From the south, Tennessee or Texas
3.  Must have relatives in Texas
4.  Opposed to porn
5.  Divorced with no kids
6.  Desire to live outside the U.S.
7.  Does not own (or often use) a video game system
8.  Appreciate made from scratch cooking
9.  Must hate fast food
10.  Must love good, no frills coffee
11.  Must be knowledgeable or is willing to learn about wine

I decided that I was going to be single for the rest of my life!  I traveled to the Lake District the next two days and was home for about one day before heading to the coast to spend the weekend in a house with new friends.  During my traveling break I received an email through MySpace.  There was a fella telling me that he clicked on my page and was impressed by the Bible verse I  had on my homepage (2Corinthians 12:10).  He said he was finishing up culinary school and would be moving to Boise in the spring.  He asked for my recommendations on bakeries and coffee shops in the Boise area.

My response was a flat, "I am in England right now."
"That is so cool! Tell me about it," he typed back.

After my weekend away, I began thinking about this and wondered if maybe, just maybe he fit some of my criteria.  I explored his MySpace page and discovered that he did meet several items on my list.  We began using IM and with the time difference I would normally be making coffee while he was about to hit the hay.  One morning this was our conversation:

Melanie:  Hang on, my timer went off and I have to press my coffee.
Josh:  You press your coffee?
Melanie:  I drink French press coffee every morning.  I don't even own a drip machine in the U.S.
Josh:  I have 2 French presses!  That is my favorite way to make coffee!

Despite all of our doubts, fears, ups and downs over the past few years, I love reminiscing about our meeting.  In time I found that Josh met all the criteria on my list.  I love to think that one day after giving the situation entirely to God, Josh and I were introduced.  I was scared, nervous, fearful, and anxious about taking the plunge a second time, but knowing that God provided someone who was the desire of my heart calmed those negative emotions.



Thursday, May 30, 2013

Depression

"We must be careful not to drift into worry, remorse or morbid reflection, that would diminish our usefulness to others."   -Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th Edition

Last night I attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting as part of my coursework for group therapy.  I sat quietly in the back as members read from the AA book and shared their experiences with addiction and recovery.  "We must be careful not to drift into worry, remorse or morbid reflection, that would diminish our usefulness to others," was read aloud and instantly I knew why God had orchestrated my being there.  This sentence was what I needed to hear.  This one sentence is what God had been pounding into my head for months.

I was only recently diagnosed with depression, though looking back over my like I can very clearly pinpoint several times I was in the midst of a depressive state.  I never saw a counselor as a child and when I was in college I began dating and eventually marrying someone who was unsupportive of the counseling process.  I was 25 the first time I sought help in this area and did so again over the next few years with divorce, remarriage and the birth of my son.  

About a year ago I went to see a counselor.  I was 10 pounds below my pre-pregnancy weight and extremely anxious.  I was working full time, a new mommy, newly wed and living with my in-laws.  It was the perfect storm of catastrophe for this introvert.  My head constantly throbbed and I knew I was going to have aneurism or a stroke.  Honestly, I hoped I would because I wanted to die.  I envisioned myself driving off an overpass on the way home nearly everyday.  

I had longed to be a mommy for ten years and two marriages.  I felt called to mother children.  I read pregnancy websites, scouted Babies R Us and volunteered in the church nursery.  My heart's deepest desire was to be a mommy.  God heard my petition and granted me grace.  I was a mommy.  I had a beautiful baby boy.  

Long ago I decided that I was going to work on my master's degree when I had my children.  I had been planning this since the first month of my teaching career and had started this process while still married to my ex-husband.  When my son was six months old I was living with my current in-laws when my husband asked if I would teach one more year to help financially.  In my heart I knew this was a bad idea, but I agreed.

I was away from my baby for 10 hours a day and when I was home all my time with him was shared.  The only time I had alone with my baby was breast feeding him late at night.  Because of this I would hold him late into the evening and he became so accustomed he would not sleep unless he was held.  On top of that, my mother-in-law offered suggestions or advice about everything; even the littlest, most insignificant details of daily life.  Anytime I put Luke down for a second, he was scooped up by someone else.  I felt insignificant in my newborn's life.  I voiced my concerns to my husband who sided with his parents with the rationale that he and I would not be living with them forever and therefore they should get to spend as much time with Luke as they wanted.  Holy crap!  I felt so unimportant.

Clearly I felt as if it was me against them, so I sought help from a counselor.  Since I had moved to a new area since my previous counseling sessions, I sought help from a different counselor.  During the first session I vented about the situation with the counselor sharing about her experiences with her in-laws.  During the next session the counselor did the same thing.  I was not receiving any help; all I was getting was someone who was feeding into the drama.  I did not need that.  I needed someone to help me see the positives in my life, someone to see how I was struggling in relating to my husband, someone to see that I did not hate my in-laws, all I wanted was some time alone with my baby.  I stopped seeing her after two sessions.

I then went to a medical doctor and had blood work done.  There was nothing out of the ordinary.  So why would someone who gained 50 pounds during pregnancy have lost 60?  I was not overweight beforehand.  The explanation was given that I was just one of the lucky women who lost more weight than they gained during pregnancy.

A few months later, my husband reluctantly moved with me to the area of my youth.  Once here I was a stay at home mommy and attending graduate school.  It was exactly what I wanted, but I was still struggling.  There were days when I would not get dressed or shower.  There were days when I would burst into tears over minor things.  There were days when I would hear my mother-in-law's voice offering outdated advice when Luke was fussy.  I read every self help book and website, but when suicidal ideation crept back into my thoughts it was time for serious help.  

During my first visit with my new counselor it was suggested that I see a doctor for medication.  The doctor agreed and I given a prescription for antidepressants and anxiety pills.  I am now on the road to recovery, but I am still plagued with guilt, remorse for time lost and morbid reflection of what-ifs.  That is why attending the AA meeting was such a blessing.  I now have words to explain what has been causing my depression.    

"We must be careful not to drift into worry, remorse or morbid reflection, that would diminish our usefulness to others."   -Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th Edition