The girl who changed the world

It's interesting how the most powerful of all scenarios begins with belief. Especially since we live in a world where we're pretty much unwilling to believe anything. We've lost our ability to trust.

I find it absolutely beautiful that the King chose to enter the world through a girl. I also find it humbling that God searched out the heart's of all womankind and the only righteous one he could find was in a young girl. The faith of a child.... And she believed. She believed what was told to her. She accepted the destiny handed down to her. She was chosen and she was cool with that, come what may.

Mary is played down so much when it comes to Christ. That breaks my heart for a million reasons. I can't help but wonder how much strength Christ might have drawn from His mother as He hung on that cross. She never left His side. She didn't abandon Him. She stood beside Him through it all, until the very end. She was there. She was in it. She was devoted.

Her strength is astounding. Her faith is inspiring. Her love is empowering.

The belief of one changed the fate of many. The actions of One changed the fate of the many.

You know why this means so much to my heart? Because it's convicting. It has become so prevalent in the realm of women to undermine our might. We have accepted the notion that we must stand on the sidelines and be quiet, let the men do the dirty work. We work as ministers in our homes... It's not that the notion of ministering in our homes isn't true, but it's so much more than that. We're called to believe. We're called to believe so fiercely, so intensely, that the essence of our whole lives is forever changed. We're called to stand beside Him, forever. Not to turn away when things get ugly. As women we are created to be able to handle that kind of intensity. We have the ability to pour out love in the midst of intense hatred without saying a word. We have the ability to stand quietly and embrace, without moving our arms. We have the ability to be present, to be strong, when the entire world is falling apart. We have the ability to move mountains, to change the world, just by believing.

One girl changed my life forever. She didn't know me, she couldn't have even fathomed my existence in the moment when she changed my life. But this one girl, made it so that I can love her Son. She believed so that her Son could save my life. She had the faith that I so deeply desire to have in my self. She loved Him the way I want to love Him.

"Flesh of my flesh... heart of my heart... My Son, let me die with you." (Mary, The Passion of the Christ)

Party of Pity

I am having one of those days where you wake up and just need to cry. I am overwhelmed. I'm drained. I feel empty. I feel a thousand things that are probably inappropriate to write, but they're there. I. am. tired. It's a mental thing, not a physical one. I feel buried under a mountain of stress and it's so big and so deep and so wide that I can't even pinpoint exactly what all it is that is so overwhelming. It's about a hundred different items that are all threes and fours on the scale of burdensome (scale goes 1-10), but collectively equal four hundred. I could list them but it wouldn't matter. You'd just judge me and think what the hell is her problem and I'd just judge myself and think the same, adding another level 3 burden to the stack. It's probably not beneficial.

Please don't offer the religious platitudes either. I've done them (or am doing them) and I'm so irritated with the Christian realm pretending that we're all supposed to be smiley-happy-duggar family people. We're not. Christ wasn't. Scripture says "A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance" (Ecc 3.4) for a reason. It's because we were created to be multi-emotional (WHAT!?!?!?!) and not cookie cutter bubblegum pop human beings.

Life sucks. This whole notion of "life is beautiful" is very often not true. Yes, there are times when it is, but there are also times when it is ugly.

I know I have so much to be thankful for. I know I am immensely blessed. I know I have so many good things to focus on and dwell on. And I'm working on that. But I'm tired. I miss my husband. I really miss him. He works constantly. Comes home and falls asleep and wakes up to do it again. And I miss him. Last night he fell asleep and I was sitting on the couch resentful, exhausted, angry. I was borderline about to throw an adult temper tantrum (seriously), when in his sleepy state he said I miss you SO much baby. I missed you so much today. Cut my heart, in a good way.

I know that this is his time to lead and I deeply want to be supportive and encouraging. I am trying my best to prepare myself mentally for that. I am so proud of him. I really am. He deserves success. And I know that this is how it goes... the bigger the rank (for enlisted), the greater the time commitment...

I suppose if all of these other little events were so exhausting, I could handle this all better. I suppose if a thousand other scenarios were playing out, maybe I would be less angry, and more happy. I suppose a lot of things that frankly aren't our reality right now.

This morning I've just wanted to cry and feel sorry for myself. This morning I feel sad, tired, drained. This morning I really miss Chief and want to snuggle up next to him. This morning I'm attending my own pity party. Want to come? You can bring the hats.

Hope

I will never understand why the Catholic church does not kick out these priests who destroy the dignity, value, religion, and sexuality of the children they molest. I will never understand why the Church ignores when Christ says that it's better for you to throw yourself in to the sea and drown (AKA commit suicide) than for you to cause a child to stumble (or to do all of the things child molesters do). I will never understand why there is an idea of tolerance to those individuals who are called to be the pillars, backbone, and strength of the Church. And why we all as Christians in general (and the Protestant realm is equally guilty of these things) constantly make excuses like well they're sinners too... BS. When you accept the calling of priesthood/pastor/leader in ANY way within the religious realm, you no longer get to use the excuse that you're "just a sinner". You don't get to permanently damage another human being, call yourself a sinner, and move on about your way (often times at other Parish's/churches).

The scars of molestation and rape are permanent. Even if the individual is able to come to some sort of notion in their mind of forgiveness, their view of sex is forever changed. Their marriage will be effected, how they parent, everything they do is viewed through the lens of the actions that this leader and mentor did to them. There can be no allowance of continued behavior. There can be no chances offered for them to do this to someone else. There can be forgiveness. But forgiveness does not mean lack of consequence. Forgiveness does not mean that the person should continue working in their field. Church leaders are called to incredibly high standards for a reason. When they fail to uphold a life worthy of the calling, they should be removed from their position. No ifs ands or buts about it.

It is my prayer and hope that the new Pope will have the firmest stance against child molestation the world has ever seen.

You've got to be able to peel off your skin and let the humanity wash in when you've built up a lifetime's worth of callouses. You've got to be able to pull back from your ferocious kick starts and let the smooth and slow ride absorb you. You've got to be able to absolve yourself from the damages of years past, otherwise whatever good it is that has found its way to your door will go unrecognized. It will go unknown. And even though you will be surrounded by a plethora of people who actually get you... you will feel incredibly alone.

What love can do

I have been randomly accused of being strong. It's a statement that I hear and honestly think in my head you have no idea how wrong that is. But maybe it comes down to different definitions and perceptions of what strength is. In my own mind, strength is someone who doesn't need someone else. Strength is someone who can make clear, concise decisions without second guessing them. Strength is not monday-morning quarterbacking every. single. conversation/meeting/get-together. Strength is not crumbling to a thousand tiny pieces, and having to retreat from social society for lengthy periods because it's all just become "too much". Strength is being able to bounce back from the emotion tolls that drag you around the city like you are strapped to a speeding horse, instead of falling into bed feeling so defeated, broken and helpless. Strength is not having emotions that you keep to yourself because you are incapable of exposing them to the outside air, or to the people around you (with a very select few...). 

In my own universe, I am the opposite of strong. I am a basket case. I am a withering, blubbering, often times half breath away from disintegrating, mess of an individual. But I'm also working hard to accept that and be okay with that. I'm also fully aware that it is Chief, immaculately chosen and created for me, that gets me through so much. I don't make any qualms about that. He is the absolute love of my life, my pillar of strength, my backbone. 

He knows me better than anyone else. I wouldn't say he understands me or relates to me better than anyone else, but he certainly knows me the best. He has this beautifully protective essence to his personality. He has a wisdom to know when to let me fall apart, when to keep me from falling, and when to fall with me. He has this insight to me that I don't understand, and usually argue against, until I think about it and realize he's right. He also always puts what is best for me, and our children, above himself. Always. I don't know how he does that. I don't know how he is as selfless as he is. It astounds me. I want to emulate that. 

I, in no way, believe that our relationship is what someone else's relationship should be. I don't hold myself up on some relationship pedestal and think I've got this all figured out. I don't. I put this man through hell for years, and he put me through hell for years. Maybe we both walked into this relationship battle-scarred, and had to resolve the wars in our heads before peace could come. I don't know. Maybe I'll never adequately know. But I do know that every single day, he picks me up in some way. Every single day he shows me my value to him in some way. Every day. And those moments carry me through.

When someone says that I'm strong, I play this song in my head that says something like this I'm not strong. I'm a mess. And any strength-like credit that you think I deserve, should probably go to Chief. He's the one who so often picks up the pieces of my emotional traumas and helps me to gather myself together and keep on going. 

Medicine for my soul

I have a daily life goal to make Chief laugh. It's the highlight of my endeavors to find something that he will laugh about. His laugh is the greatest sound on the planet. His smile is my favorite thing to look at. His joy fills me with joy, and so this has become something about my life that I work hard to bring him.

So much about life makes us feel worthless. So much about what we experience on a normal Monday afternoon can make us feel beaten down and exhausted. Look with all your might for the hilariousness about it all. Look hard. When you find it, when you find that ridiculous stuff that happens constantly, laugh out loud. Laugh! And then share it with others so that they can laugh too.

I promise you that in the midst of even the worst case scenarios, there is something funny. My life has been filled with a thousand worst-case-scenarios and I have had many, many adventures filled with enough tears to fill the grand canyon. But I've also had enough laughter to give me a six pack. I've had enough smiles to permanently mark my cheeks (laugh lines ROCK!). I've had enough random moments where something completely unexpected caught my eye and made me laugh.

Laughter is incredibly powerful. Even in the middle of a nightmare, laughter brings a strength that helps you to carry on. It is reviving. It is healing. It is my absolute favorite.

So every day I do my absolute best to make people laugh. Because I want to laugh too.

gifts

The body is a powerful tool. It can be so instrumental in everything we do. It can also be the curse under which we bury ourselves in a thousand pounds of guilt, shame, and failures. I needed to be a failure. I needed to permanently purge the demons of self loathing, starvation, and enjoying the physical suffering that comes with it. Sounds sick to probably most anyone reading this, but it was (and in many ways still is) a huge aspect of myself. I like self denial. I like it far too much. I like telling myself that I can't have something that I "need" and then forcing my body to comply, whether or not it wants to. It makes me feel alive. It makes my head feel clear and my flesh feel free.

I can't stand addiction. I can't stand the idea of something dominating or controlling me. Food, weight, size, cigarettes, caffeine... I suppose you could say I'm addicted to not being addicted. So I smoked. I smoked the hell out of some cigarettes for years. I smoked packs and packs of cigarettes a day. And then one day I said to myself that cigarettes were not going to dominate me and I quit. It was as simple as that. I didn't care that my body, my brain, my hands craved a cigarette. It didn't matter to me. I was going to purge myself of this "need" that I didn't want to have and I did...

Because the reality that we all seem so hell bent on completely ignoring is this: we "do" what we want to. Period. There are no ifs ands or buts about it. If you genuinely do not want to do it, then don't. It's called self control and it's a notion that seems to be so completely lost on society. My body is mine. It isn't a cigarette's or a coffee bean's, or even food's. It's mine. I tell "it" what to do. Not the other way around.

I'm so often confused by the number of individuals who tell me that adultery "just happened". I can't even tell you how many times I've heard "well... I fell it love. I couldn't stop it." I love how the idea of our choices being some avalanche hurling towards us at the speed of sound, and that we are so helpless to prevent is so popular these days (enter sarcasm here). I'm going to have to call bullshit on that. If you don't want to cheat, then you wouldn't. If you don't want to abandon your child and move across the freaking world and claim that you "believed" it was best for her, then you wouldn't. If you don't want to treat your husband like complete trash and resent and blame him for all of your own failures, then you wouldn't. If you don't want to live in a perpetual cycle of self abuse, or self loathing, or self pity, then you would make it stop. But the real hard cold thing to accept is that so many of us genuinely don't want to. We find the loathing comfortable. We find the drama of a marriage falling apart comfortable. We find the misery inviting, refreshing, and comforting... or we would change it.

My body has been a powerful tool in my life. And I allowed the physical aspect of a thousand pounds of guilt, shame, resentment, and self loathing to bear itself out on my bones. I allowed my skin to stretch and pull because I didn't believe I deserved anything different from that. I punished my flesh for failing my children. I buried my muscles ten feet under pounds for not saving me from Awful, or from the loss of our unborn children, or for not carrying our three babies for longer than I did. I was angry. And someone had to pay. The failures were mine. The fault was mine.

It's amazing how many demons seek to rear their ugly head as the pounds fall away and my muscles and bones begin to breathe a sigh of relief. It's powerful how much of myself was under ten feet of pounds and is now exposed to life again...

Our priest said last week "Let food be a gift, not a problem." Finding freedom from my need to punish myself is intense. Finding the ability to accept and forgive myself is a journey. Finding the reason to put on my dancing shoes again and to completely let loose in front of a room filled with mirrors is freeing. To tell my story with motion is terrifying, but it's the most beautiful gift I can ever give to myself.