It's astounding how utterly difficult it is for me to let go. At what point will I tell myself You've done enough. It can't be your problem anymore. You're exhausted. You're drained. Let. it. go.? Probably never. This is the battle that goes on in my brain every few days.
I am an FRG leader. For those of you who don't know what it means, it's essentially working a full time job for a company commander supporting, caring for, equipping, assisting, listening to, and encouraging all of the spouse's, mom's, dad's, girlfriend's, fiance's, sister's, brother's, children, etc etc that are associated and affiliated with the company. I have been one of these FRG leaders for nearly 9 years (there was a short six month break of psychos where I walked away to preserve my sanity). I have held hands and assisted in the births of children, assisted in the loss of infants, been to funerals for soldiers (and children, mothers, siblings), supported Commanders, defended first sergeants, brought the chain of command's mission and viewpoint to the spouses, and advocated on behalf of the soldiers and their families to the CO. I have sat with spouses as they reported their soldier's domestic violence. Helped spouses with alcoholism, and psychological disorders (theirs, their soldier's, and their children's). I have made meals, grieved with and laughed with so many spouses I can't even remember them all. I have not been the FRG leader for any married Commanders (so no spousal help there). In fact, none of them have even had girlfriends at the time. I have consistently and genuinely fought the fight, defended the cause, and been loyal to both the Commander and the company.
I have been thanked ONCE. One time. By one person. A spouse who was assaulted by a soldier. After she found safety, she called me and told me how much I helped her and asked if it would be okay if we remain in contact. We still do.
It's not that I do this for gratitude. I don't. I don't do it for accolades or to feel important or significant. To be honest, nearly every phone call/visit/interaction, SOMEONE is angry with me, or the commander, or the first sergeant, and is dumping it onto me. Or they've had their heads filled with such negative views of FRG's that they pretty much dislike me without ever getting to know me. No one helps. Not anymore. The younger generation of spouses have little to no idea of camaraderie. They're "independent" and they don't "need anyone". Until they're attempting suicide because their soldier is in the field and they haven't spoken to him in "days"... And then it's not the FRG, or the spouses who have lived through eight million deployments and days away from their soldier that they want, but only the soldier. What could I possibly know? It's not like I've lived through hell on behalf of the Army... right???
I am tired. My ability to care has run out. I recognize this fully. And I know I must step down. I have already determined to do so. I have resolved in my mind that I have little left to contribute. I am done rallying the troups. I am through listening to spouses with way more financial resources than me telling me they can't feed their children (as the new coach bag glistens on their arm). I'm tired of always making jokes, being supportive, when I think their soldier is a POS. I'm tired of not being able to talk to my husband about all of the things going on in my normal day, because it will make him loathe the soldiers who work under him. I'm tired of not being able to say what I want without having to constantly analyze whether or not I am disparaging the commander or the company name.
On the other side of this equation, I feel this burden of responsibility. I feel this pull on my heart towards the new spouse who just showed up to this installation with no idea about what she's getting herself in to. I feel this agony about myself that I used to feel when I was a "newbie". I remember how amazing it was when Judy loved on me, and my fellow new spouses, and welcomed me into this giant new life. And it is a GIANT new life. It's big and it's hard. It's also why we need each other (military spouses/moms/family members).
So I have this argument in myself. I have gone back and forth and back and forth again and again. I will probably feel sad, to some degree, when it's officially over. I am able to say, though, that I must let it go. I am able to recognize that my time doing this is finished, for now. I will move on, and I will have given so much of my heart and my time. I hope that I was able to make a positive difference in people's lives. I hope that the next FRG leader will be surrounded by grateful people. I hope she will be showered with thank you's and we appreciate you's. I hope she will have the stamina, wisdom, and passion to make something great.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
Mine
There are moments in life where you can see the storm clouds coming upon you. They're off on the horizon, and they're rolling towards you. You can see it as it starts the happen. The sun hides away, the wind begins to blow, the rain begins to pour... There are also times when the storms sneak up on you in the night unexpectedly. You wake up to a grey, overcast experience. Your heart feels heavy and burdened and you didn't really anticipate it.
I talk about emotional exhaustion because I experience it. I have very few people in my life who replenish my emotional reserves. VERY few. It's not that people don't try, want to, or that I don't want them to either. It's just that not everyone has that unique spiritual gift which is able to. This isn't an insult to them (or me), just a matter of facts.
I relate so wholly to Moses. I make a lot of jokes about being "Moses'd" here at our duty station (which I think Moses approves of... FYI. HA!). At a time when it was (and unfortunately still continues to be) most popular to ignore the books of old and look to the new testament, I connected to this amazing individual from way back in the past. I found myself in him, with every page. I found a God who got him, accepted him, and called him even though he so clearly did not fit in with any of the current (as in modern times...) religious stereotypes. Moses is my rockstar, and I'm a bit of a superfan.
Moses was called to something he didn't really want to be a part of. He felt weak, incapable, afraid. Moses was reluctant and battled God constantly. He was impulsive, angry, and gave of himself entirely to others... often times leading to his complete exhaustion (and desire to stop living out of the weight of it all). He was a questioner (But what if...?) with nearly everything God said. He was completely honest and vulnerable with God. He would throw temper tantrums with God, he would yell at Him! He took himself and laid bare all that he was and is and could be, right down in front of God and said "IN YO FACE!" Okay... he didn't really say "in yo face" but you get the point. He was real. He was feisty. And God expected a lot from him. Obviously because he was capable of handling it, even when he felt like he wasn't.
In my own life, I have been called to many situations where I "couldn't" handle it. I have, personally, had those conversations with God where I was begging for Him to end my life (this is not the same as suicidal... in case you are wondering). I have experienced, a million times over, emotional exhaustion to the extreme. I have desired to hide myself away, to withdraw and retreat from society, and I have done so in order to be alone with my God. And He is MY God.
I do not presume to consider myself as important as Moses was in the history of the world. I would never be that ridiculous. Obviously his calling and mine are not equal. But his spirit, his tenacity, his passion, his fatigue... I relate to. I connect with. I can't wait to meet him and say "Thank you for existing!".
The needs of the world are so intense. The needs of the Church are equally so. She is so broken. She is lost. The weight of that is immense. The weight of being called to the problems/challenges/hurts of those around me sometimes feels like too much to bear. I feel lost in it, without these moments of retreat where I take all of it and pour it out on my God. Where I am called to remember I raise my eyes up to the mountains. From whence shall come my help? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 121.1-2).
I know my spiritual gifts. I know the calling that God has placed before me. I am grateful that He deems me worthy enough to handle it. It doesn't mean it is easy. I think we, as a Church, have gotten way too hung up on the "yoke being easy and the burden light." We've come to believe that God's callings are supposed to be a walk in the park. We've come to expect angst as "not God's will. We've lost the beauty in burdens. Moses' burdens were great. They were also immensely overwhelming. They were not "light" or "easy". What they did do, however, was force Moses to not get ahead of himself. They reminded Moses of his humanity, his vulnerability, and his need for God's presence, peace, healing, and leadership.
I am learning to be thankful for exhaustion. I'm learning to stop, when these times come, and immerse myself in my God, my King, my Savior. I'm learning to see these periods as reminders of my need for God's presence, peace, healing, and leadership in my own life. I'm learning to view them as God saying to me: This burden is heavy, and it's hard. That's why you need me. That's why I'm yours. I am bigger than your weakness. IN YO FACE! (God is funny when He comforts me. Don't get an attitude... HA!)
He is mine. In the most beautiful and magnificent way, He is mine.
I talk about emotional exhaustion because I experience it. I have very few people in my life who replenish my emotional reserves. VERY few. It's not that people don't try, want to, or that I don't want them to either. It's just that not everyone has that unique spiritual gift which is able to. This isn't an insult to them (or me), just a matter of facts.
I relate so wholly to Moses. I make a lot of jokes about being "Moses'd" here at our duty station (which I think Moses approves of... FYI. HA!). At a time when it was (and unfortunately still continues to be) most popular to ignore the books of old and look to the new testament, I connected to this amazing individual from way back in the past. I found myself in him, with every page. I found a God who got him, accepted him, and called him even though he so clearly did not fit in with any of the current (as in modern times...) religious stereotypes. Moses is my rockstar, and I'm a bit of a superfan.
Moses was called to something he didn't really want to be a part of. He felt weak, incapable, afraid. Moses was reluctant and battled God constantly. He was impulsive, angry, and gave of himself entirely to others... often times leading to his complete exhaustion (and desire to stop living out of the weight of it all). He was a questioner (But what if...?) with nearly everything God said. He was completely honest and vulnerable with God. He would throw temper tantrums with God, he would yell at Him! He took himself and laid bare all that he was and is and could be, right down in front of God and said "IN YO FACE!" Okay... he didn't really say "in yo face" but you get the point. He was real. He was feisty. And God expected a lot from him. Obviously because he was capable of handling it, even when he felt like he wasn't.
In my own life, I have been called to many situations where I "couldn't" handle it. I have, personally, had those conversations with God where I was begging for Him to end my life (this is not the same as suicidal... in case you are wondering). I have experienced, a million times over, emotional exhaustion to the extreme. I have desired to hide myself away, to withdraw and retreat from society, and I have done so in order to be alone with my God. And He is MY God.
I do not presume to consider myself as important as Moses was in the history of the world. I would never be that ridiculous. Obviously his calling and mine are not equal. But his spirit, his tenacity, his passion, his fatigue... I relate to. I connect with. I can't wait to meet him and say "Thank you for existing!".
The needs of the world are so intense. The needs of the Church are equally so. She is so broken. She is lost. The weight of that is immense. The weight of being called to the problems/challenges/hurts of those around me sometimes feels like too much to bear. I feel lost in it, without these moments of retreat where I take all of it and pour it out on my God. Where I am called to remember I raise my eyes up to the mountains. From whence shall come my help? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 121.1-2).
I know my spiritual gifts. I know the calling that God has placed before me. I am grateful that He deems me worthy enough to handle it. It doesn't mean it is easy. I think we, as a Church, have gotten way too hung up on the "yoke being easy and the burden light." We've come to believe that God's callings are supposed to be a walk in the park. We've come to expect angst as "not God's will. We've lost the beauty in burdens. Moses' burdens were great. They were also immensely overwhelming. They were not "light" or "easy". What they did do, however, was force Moses to not get ahead of himself. They reminded Moses of his humanity, his vulnerability, and his need for God's presence, peace, healing, and leadership.
I am learning to be thankful for exhaustion. I'm learning to stop, when these times come, and immerse myself in my God, my King, my Savior. I'm learning to see these periods as reminders of my need for God's presence, peace, healing, and leadership in my own life. I'm learning to view them as God saying to me: This burden is heavy, and it's hard. That's why you need me. That's why I'm yours. I am bigger than your weakness. IN YO FACE! (God is funny when He comforts me. Don't get an attitude... HA!)
He is mine. In the most beautiful and magnificent way, He is mine.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Beautiful Battles
It isn't often that Chief and I draw the battle lines and have a good row. It isn't often that we're shouting at each other and furious. When it comes, it comes big. Adrenaline pumping, fists clenched, gritted teeth, yelling... It's quite the eruption.
Today was one of those rare occasions (to explain how rare, we fight maybe once a year... no joke). We were fighting about a stressful situation that had already been resolved. It's funny, isn't it? The ridiculous things that will cause two people who adore each other, to fight.
We dug in our heels, had our hands shaking, and forced ourselves to shout it out. We didn't walk away. We didn't throw out BS fighting terms (divorce... And I will say it's always BS to throw that out there in an argument), we didn't throw things, or slam doors. We sat there and shouted.
In the middle of this marital earthquake, Chief shouted at me: I don't even know why we're fighting! I LOVE YOU! and I laughed. I was thinking the exact same thing in that moment. I was about to say those exact same words to him! I laughed because I love this type of fighting. We weren't fighting against each other, we were fighting towards each other and that is beautiful. It's a beautiful battle to be fighting to get the muck that builds up between us out of the way. It's a beautiful place to be where you can be so angry, and have some one be so angry with you, and the words I love you are an active part of the dialogue.
Chief and I used to fight so ugly. We used to rip each other to shreds. We used to be our own worst enemies. I can't pinpoint the moment when that changed. I can't communicate the hurts that have been heaped upon me (and vice versa) out of his mouth. What I can say is that I married the most perfect person. I married the person who feels about me the way I feel about him: desperate love. I can say that we fight to be together, not apart.
I am so thankful for what God has given me. I'm so thankful for the miraculous healing that has been poured over us. I am thankful that I can sit here and say that my marriage has been through the fiercest aspects of hell, and now when we're angry... fighting! we're shouting out "I LOVE YOU!"
This is the kind of love that I pray for, with desperation, for our children. This is the kind of love that I dreamed about when I was younger, but didn't believe existed. This is the guy that I would die for, a thousand times over, because I know he would do the same for me and then some. This is the person who fought himself out of psychological death to come back and be next to me because I needed him to.
So today we had one of those beautiful battles. Today Chief stared me down, and even in his angriest moment, his eyes were filled with the most intense love for me. Today, when we were so angry our hands were shaking, love for each other was pouring out, instead of hate. Today we showed our children that two people who are nuts for each other, can have a fight and still display love. Beautiful.
Thanks be to God.
Today was one of those rare occasions (to explain how rare, we fight maybe once a year... no joke). We were fighting about a stressful situation that had already been resolved. It's funny, isn't it? The ridiculous things that will cause two people who adore each other, to fight.
We dug in our heels, had our hands shaking, and forced ourselves to shout it out. We didn't walk away. We didn't throw out BS fighting terms (divorce... And I will say it's always BS to throw that out there in an argument), we didn't throw things, or slam doors. We sat there and shouted.
In the middle of this marital earthquake, Chief shouted at me: I don't even know why we're fighting! I LOVE YOU! and I laughed. I was thinking the exact same thing in that moment. I was about to say those exact same words to him! I laughed because I love this type of fighting. We weren't fighting against each other, we were fighting towards each other and that is beautiful. It's a beautiful battle to be fighting to get the muck that builds up between us out of the way. It's a beautiful place to be where you can be so angry, and have some one be so angry with you, and the words I love you are an active part of the dialogue.
Chief and I used to fight so ugly. We used to rip each other to shreds. We used to be our own worst enemies. I can't pinpoint the moment when that changed. I can't communicate the hurts that have been heaped upon me (and vice versa) out of his mouth. What I can say is that I married the most perfect person. I married the person who feels about me the way I feel about him: desperate love. I can say that we fight to be together, not apart.
I am so thankful for what God has given me. I'm so thankful for the miraculous healing that has been poured over us. I am thankful that I can sit here and say that my marriage has been through the fiercest aspects of hell, and now when we're angry... fighting! we're shouting out "I LOVE YOU!"
This is the kind of love that I pray for, with desperation, for our children. This is the kind of love that I dreamed about when I was younger, but didn't believe existed. This is the guy that I would die for, a thousand times over, because I know he would do the same for me and then some. This is the person who fought himself out of psychological death to come back and be next to me because I needed him to.
So today we had one of those beautiful battles. Today Chief stared me down, and even in his angriest moment, his eyes were filled with the most intense love for me. Today, when we were so angry our hands were shaking, love for each other was pouring out, instead of hate. Today we showed our children that two people who are nuts for each other, can have a fight and still display love. Beautiful.
Thanks be to God.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Summer Winter
The summer has come and with it the heat. And with it a sort of winterization of my heart. The story of me and you against the rest of the world is ending. With it all of the melancholy that I can barely stand to stomach is seeping out. I hate it.
I found myself curled up in Chief this afternoon feeling as tiny as I could be. Crying.
I hate feelings, I said. They always lead to hurts.
He said, But you love the feeling of my love.
Yes. But one day it will lead to the greatest grief either you or I will have ever experienced.
He responded: It's the cycle of life baby...
The years and years of therapy forcing me to accept emotions, forcing me to feel all of this shit that I didn't want to feel, suck. Here I am, wallowing. Hurting. Because I ventured to love, and I didn't want to. Because I couldn't help myself...
Stupid me.
I hate goodbyes. I hate needing someone or something. I hate the essences of my fragile humanity bubbling up to the surface of myself and being unable to contain it. I hate feeling like a mess of a woman. I hate running out of words, and yet feeling like I haven't said enough to matter. I hate wanting to know I've made a difference in your life, for the better. I hate that this is ending...
I am helpless to prevent it. I know it and you know it too. Wishful thinking can paint the sunset sky all I want but it won't really make a difference. Life goes on and things can't last forever.
I am closing the door and saying goodbye. I am grieving like hell because you're worth that to me. Selfishly I hope you are grieving the loss of me. But ultimately it doesn't matter. It doesn't make any difference if I mattered to you. Love isn't about reciprocity. It's about what I gave to you, unchained, untied, no strings... It's about how loving you changed my life for the better. It's about learning to accept that love is about giving of myself because I choose to.
I have no regrets, when it's all said and done. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
I thought you should know.
I found myself curled up in Chief this afternoon feeling as tiny as I could be. Crying.
I hate feelings, I said. They always lead to hurts.
He said, But you love the feeling of my love.
Yes. But one day it will lead to the greatest grief either you or I will have ever experienced.
He responded: It's the cycle of life baby...
The years and years of therapy forcing me to accept emotions, forcing me to feel all of this shit that I didn't want to feel, suck. Here I am, wallowing. Hurting. Because I ventured to love, and I didn't want to. Because I couldn't help myself...
Stupid me.
I hate goodbyes. I hate needing someone or something. I hate the essences of my fragile humanity bubbling up to the surface of myself and being unable to contain it. I hate feeling like a mess of a woman. I hate running out of words, and yet feeling like I haven't said enough to matter. I hate wanting to know I've made a difference in your life, for the better. I hate that this is ending...
I am helpless to prevent it. I know it and you know it too. Wishful thinking can paint the sunset sky all I want but it won't really make a difference. Life goes on and things can't last forever.
I am closing the door and saying goodbye. I am grieving like hell because you're worth that to me. Selfishly I hope you are grieving the loss of me. But ultimately it doesn't matter. It doesn't make any difference if I mattered to you. Love isn't about reciprocity. It's about what I gave to you, unchained, untied, no strings... It's about how loving you changed my life for the better. It's about learning to accept that love is about giving of myself because I choose to.
I have no regrets, when it's all said and done. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
I thought you should know.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Army Weak
There is a strange mixture of emotions and circumstances that can come to light when you are a military spouse. I am in one right now. My husband is a superstar. He is ethical, moral, loyal, faithful. He works himself to the bone because of integrity and duty to his superiors and his juniors. I adore this about him, and hate it at the same time.
He had been long overdue for a promotion. There were many factors that were a part of this that I won't go into. They don't really matter in the grand scheme, but it certainly affected him psychologically. When the promotion came, his spirit was renewed and his adoration, love, and insane work drive returned.
I love seeing my husband come alive in this lifestyle we live. I love seeing him feel about his job how he felt in the beginning of our relationship. I love hearing about his excitement as he teaches some young dude about tanks. I love how his face lights up at the notion of turning his tank engine on and fiddling around with it. I. love. it.
I hate how much he works. I hate that he works more than anyone else in this company. I don't say that in some pity party way (though I am certainly having many of those moments in my own emotional way), it is just a fact. His position requires it. I am working on processing through these things. It is hard for me.
This is not to say that I don't recognize things could be harder. He has deployed five times, so I think I can pretty fairly say I know what it's like to be apart in that regard. Yes, I realize he could be in Afghanistan or the Sudan or Korea... All of those things suck. The point of this post is not to complain about his time away. And if that's what you think I'm doing, I'm sorry that you don't know me well enough to see past that.
My point here is this is the process of adjusting for the spouse left at home (AKA: me). It. is. hard. And no one really prepares you for this! I miss my mentors who have gone away! I miss having those gals to say: "Oh my dear... he's a platoon sergeant now. You'll never see him! It sucks. But you're not alone. We're all in this together!" I miss them telling me these feelings are normal and you will come through it stronger. I miss that...
I love Chief. I love him something fierce and his walking into my door at 7pm, only to have to go back again at 9 and come back home at 11 SUCKS. It is hard to adjust my brain to being okay/at peace/comfortable with that. And this aspect has REALLY surprised me, America. I didn't expect it. I thought I would breeze into this change with no problems. I haven't. It has brought me to tears many times.
It's a strange place to be. Immensely proud, insanely in love with his dedication. To admire this part of his personality is beautiful. But to be the person who feels like a basket case sucks! And I hate that I am having such a hard time! All of these feelings are completely mine. They are my own challenges to accept and get on board with. I will never discourage him from what he's doing. I will never tell him to stop it. But I won't hide that it hurts either. Because here's the awesome thing about Chief: he's man enough to handle my tears and honorable enough to do his job anyway. He's awesome enough to be able to prioritize his duty to this calling, and his duty to me, and he has this expert ability to balance it. I am amazed by how he does it, but he does.
So, America, I've been having a pity party. I've been feeling kind of sad. I miss my husband. But I am so proud of him. And I wanted to share with my readers who are a bit lower than me (and maybe some who are higher than me but feeling alone), that this too might come across your path. I really hope that when/if it does, I'll still be around to say to you: "This is normal. It sucks. You will grieve. But then you'll adjust and you'll be stronger for it."
Final thought: Feeling Army weak, is the beginning of becoming Army Strong.
He had been long overdue for a promotion. There were many factors that were a part of this that I won't go into. They don't really matter in the grand scheme, but it certainly affected him psychologically. When the promotion came, his spirit was renewed and his adoration, love, and insane work drive returned.
I love seeing my husband come alive in this lifestyle we live. I love seeing him feel about his job how he felt in the beginning of our relationship. I love hearing about his excitement as he teaches some young dude about tanks. I love how his face lights up at the notion of turning his tank engine on and fiddling around with it. I. love. it.
I hate how much he works. I hate that he works more than anyone else in this company. I don't say that in some pity party way (though I am certainly having many of those moments in my own emotional way), it is just a fact. His position requires it. I am working on processing through these things. It is hard for me.
This is not to say that I don't recognize things could be harder. He has deployed five times, so I think I can pretty fairly say I know what it's like to be apart in that regard. Yes, I realize he could be in Afghanistan or the Sudan or Korea... All of those things suck. The point of this post is not to complain about his time away. And if that's what you think I'm doing, I'm sorry that you don't know me well enough to see past that.
My point here is this is the process of adjusting for the spouse left at home (AKA: me). It. is. hard. And no one really prepares you for this! I miss my mentors who have gone away! I miss having those gals to say: "Oh my dear... he's a platoon sergeant now. You'll never see him! It sucks. But you're not alone. We're all in this together!" I miss them telling me these feelings are normal and you will come through it stronger. I miss that...
I love Chief. I love him something fierce and his walking into my door at 7pm, only to have to go back again at 9 and come back home at 11 SUCKS. It is hard to adjust my brain to being okay/at peace/comfortable with that. And this aspect has REALLY surprised me, America. I didn't expect it. I thought I would breeze into this change with no problems. I haven't. It has brought me to tears many times.
It's a strange place to be. Immensely proud, insanely in love with his dedication. To admire this part of his personality is beautiful. But to be the person who feels like a basket case sucks! And I hate that I am having such a hard time! All of these feelings are completely mine. They are my own challenges to accept and get on board with. I will never discourage him from what he's doing. I will never tell him to stop it. But I won't hide that it hurts either. Because here's the awesome thing about Chief: he's man enough to handle my tears and honorable enough to do his job anyway. He's awesome enough to be able to prioritize his duty to this calling, and his duty to me, and he has this expert ability to balance it. I am amazed by how he does it, but he does.
So, America, I've been having a pity party. I've been feeling kind of sad. I miss my husband. But I am so proud of him. And I wanted to share with my readers who are a bit lower than me (and maybe some who are higher than me but feeling alone), that this too might come across your path. I really hope that when/if it does, I'll still be around to say to you: "This is normal. It sucks. You will grieve. But then you'll adjust and you'll be stronger for it."
Final thought: Feeling Army weak, is the beginning of becoming Army Strong.
Friday, May 24, 2013
5-Seconds-of-Doing-This "Wisdom"
I have recently been blessed with people in my life who have encouraged me to garden. I live in brownsville. That my read like a joke, but it really is quite factual. The "grass" is brown. The cacti are brown. The rocks are brown, and on and on and on. I believe there is a psychological need for green, and that I wholeheartedly have it. It's amazing what a monochromatic scheme does to one's psyche. It squashes the spirit, sucks your heart dry, and then wonders why you're not "content". It's not that I don't enjoy the color brown. I'm not in that club of "brown sucks", it's just that my eyeballs, my spirit, my soul needs more than just that. So I have begun a "garden".
The truth is that I should tell you how this gardening view came to be. Nearly four months ago, my children and I, as part of our homeschool, planted some seeds in a greenhouse kit. We paid attention to them for a couple of weeks and had the best of intentions. But we all ended up really sick and forgot all about it. I peeked through the lid randomly and saw they were all dead. I set it aside (WHY DID I SET THIS ASIDE!?!?!?!) and left it. Three months later, I was cleaning my home and realized this didn't get thrown away. I took off the lid and one plant was STILL ALIVE! That's right my friends... this one plant was a fighter and I determined to give him a chance. I brought him out into the fresh air and started to water him. He kept growing. I sort of fell in love with this fella. My little cilantro plant that has the ultimate fighting spirit, had won my heart. This is how I fell into having a "garden"...
I now have some indoor plants (almost all edibles because we have rabbits up the wazoo and frankly I don't want my hard work to feed rabbits... I'm selfish like that), and I'm working on a porch garden. Yes, I can collectively hear you all say Porch garden? HUH!? But the simple fact is this: I do not own my home. I am not allowed to landscape or change the yard of my home. Everything I grow must be in pots.
It has only been a few days of "green" being back in my life, but it's already feeding me. I want to be outside again. I want to get up and check on the fruits, vegetables, flowers... I feel excited when I see a bee buzzing around and I find my brain internally cheering them on and begging them to come and hang out at my house forever. I no longer have a passionate hatred for the ants that are all over my yard because ants dig tunnels. Tunnels aerate the soil, and that helps things to grow! I'm not eager to leap up and bug spray my whole yard because now I'm thinking about what killing off an entire yard of creatures will do to the soil, to the earth, to the birds, to the environment... How will the ripple effect of that one action play out?
The biggest lesson that this garden has been teaching me (again... it's only been a few days!) is patience. The value of patience, persistence, and hard work. There is very little instant gratification. There is SOME instant gratification (like: yes! I did this! Looks better than before!) but the overall "vision" I have in my mind will not come over night. I have to wait...
What a concept... waiting. I have such an instant gratification type of personality. I want things and I want them now and I'm not interested in waiting around for things to come. But my spirit/psyche/mind, like my garden, is a work in progress. I can't instantly change everything I dislike about me. I can work the ground, till the soil, get my hands dirty, make a mess, and then clean it all up and see what happens as I'm watered, fed, and put out in the sun.
I wonder what these gardens will look like a week, month, or even a year from now. I wonder how we both will grow and change. Can't wait to see. :)
The truth is that I should tell you how this gardening view came to be. Nearly four months ago, my children and I, as part of our homeschool, planted some seeds in a greenhouse kit. We paid attention to them for a couple of weeks and had the best of intentions. But we all ended up really sick and forgot all about it. I peeked through the lid randomly and saw they were all dead. I set it aside (WHY DID I SET THIS ASIDE!?!?!?!) and left it. Three months later, I was cleaning my home and realized this didn't get thrown away. I took off the lid and one plant was STILL ALIVE! That's right my friends... this one plant was a fighter and I determined to give him a chance. I brought him out into the fresh air and started to water him. He kept growing. I sort of fell in love with this fella. My little cilantro plant that has the ultimate fighting spirit, had won my heart. This is how I fell into having a "garden"...
I now have some indoor plants (almost all edibles because we have rabbits up the wazoo and frankly I don't want my hard work to feed rabbits... I'm selfish like that), and I'm working on a porch garden. Yes, I can collectively hear you all say Porch garden? HUH!? But the simple fact is this: I do not own my home. I am not allowed to landscape or change the yard of my home. Everything I grow must be in pots.
It has only been a few days of "green" being back in my life, but it's already feeding me. I want to be outside again. I want to get up and check on the fruits, vegetables, flowers... I feel excited when I see a bee buzzing around and I find my brain internally cheering them on and begging them to come and hang out at my house forever. I no longer have a passionate hatred for the ants that are all over my yard because ants dig tunnels. Tunnels aerate the soil, and that helps things to grow! I'm not eager to leap up and bug spray my whole yard because now I'm thinking about what killing off an entire yard of creatures will do to the soil, to the earth, to the birds, to the environment... How will the ripple effect of that one action play out?
The biggest lesson that this garden has been teaching me (again... it's only been a few days!) is patience. The value of patience, persistence, and hard work. There is very little instant gratification. There is SOME instant gratification (like: yes! I did this! Looks better than before!) but the overall "vision" I have in my mind will not come over night. I have to wait...
What a concept... waiting. I have such an instant gratification type of personality. I want things and I want them now and I'm not interested in waiting around for things to come. But my spirit/psyche/mind, like my garden, is a work in progress. I can't instantly change everything I dislike about me. I can work the ground, till the soil, get my hands dirty, make a mess, and then clean it all up and see what happens as I'm watered, fed, and put out in the sun.
I wonder what these gardens will look like a week, month, or even a year from now. I wonder how we both will grow and change. Can't wait to see. :)
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Village People. :)
My life has been wrought with many ups and downs. I've had a difficult time finding "my people" (as my blogging celebrity friend puts it). I am a difficult soul. I joke constantly, over commit myself, have good intentions but almost always speak without thinking (then I fret for days and days over what I probably shouldn't have said but did...). I come across as being a know-it-all, when I'm really not in my heart. I'm probably over confident when I shouldn't be, and not confident enough when I should be. I homeschool, so I'm always around my children and I really don't get the whole mentality of sending my kids off to school for 2/3 of their day in a country where they don't really learn much... I'm Catholic. But not just Catholic, a Catholic who became one after years and years of Baptist-ism and the schooling, study, theology, Bible-leading that went along with it (in other words... I know why I am Catholic). I am obsessed with my husband. But I hope in a good way??? And I've been driven to insanity by my four kids, the four-legged love of my life, Venemous (don't ask), and Gus-Gus the Circus Dog.
That's me, up there ^^^ in a nutshell. I'm obviously much more than those things, but I hope it helps to paint a picture of why it's difficult for me to form attachments/friendships. I am crazy. :)
A little over a year ago, the hubster mentioned that I needed to find some more of "my people". I really didn't have any of those at the time, so I started to pray. I just started to ask God to open doors, bring women into my life. Give me "friends". Help me to trust. Help me to open up. Slowly, He did.
It started with one Italian sunbeam who came and brought me so much joy. She encouraged me (and I hope I encouraged her too!!!), and we'd laugh together, share the silliness of life, vent about the Army (mostly me doing that... HAHA!), and enjoy each other. She. is. awesome. Then He saw fit to bless me with a plethora of other sunbeams to come and challenge me in different ways! The Photographer (who I stalk. Seriously. I'm in her bushes as I write this! HA!), an Irishman and her clan, The Celebrity Blogger, The Juicer/Monsanto Hater, the Catholic, the Coffee Lover, The Jeweler, and on and on. These are my people. These women are my clan. My posse. My crew.
So this is my sappy, obnoxious version of saying to each of them. I prayed for you. I still pray for you. You are massive blessings to me. You all give me courage, encouragement, support. You help me to be a better wife, mother, gardener (poor celebrity blogger... she has a CHALLENGE on her hands!), Catholic (gotta know my stuff!!! HAHA!), and woman as a whole. I am more thankful for you than I could ever say. I hope you always know that even if time and distance causes us to grow apart eventually (seriously... the PCS moves need to come to an end!), I will always hold you dear in my heart. Forever.
So... feel special, because you are. And know that you have a purpose. Even if it's just to encourage this old broad for a time. (sidebar: I felt the need to add here that your sole purpose in life is to live for me... HAHAHA! Isn't that how that whole last paragraph read!?!?! But I knew it would make you laugh! So laugh! HA!)
You are treasures to me. :)
That's me, up there ^^^ in a nutshell. I'm obviously much more than those things, but I hope it helps to paint a picture of why it's difficult for me to form attachments/friendships. I am crazy. :)
A little over a year ago, the hubster mentioned that I needed to find some more of "my people". I really didn't have any of those at the time, so I started to pray. I just started to ask God to open doors, bring women into my life. Give me "friends". Help me to trust. Help me to open up. Slowly, He did.
It started with one Italian sunbeam who came and brought me so much joy. She encouraged me (and I hope I encouraged her too!!!), and we'd laugh together, share the silliness of life, vent about the Army (mostly me doing that... HAHA!), and enjoy each other. She. is. awesome. Then He saw fit to bless me with a plethora of other sunbeams to come and challenge me in different ways! The Photographer (who I stalk. Seriously. I'm in her bushes as I write this! HA!), an Irishman and her clan, The Celebrity Blogger, The Juicer/Monsanto Hater, the Catholic, the Coffee Lover, The Jeweler, and on and on. These are my people. These women are my clan. My posse. My crew.
So this is my sappy, obnoxious version of saying to each of them. I prayed for you. I still pray for you. You are massive blessings to me. You all give me courage, encouragement, support. You help me to be a better wife, mother, gardener (poor celebrity blogger... she has a CHALLENGE on her hands!), Catholic (gotta know my stuff!!! HAHA!), and woman as a whole. I am more thankful for you than I could ever say. I hope you always know that even if time and distance causes us to grow apart eventually (seriously... the PCS moves need to come to an end!), I will always hold you dear in my heart. Forever.
So... feel special, because you are. And know that you have a purpose. Even if it's just to encourage this old broad for a time. (sidebar: I felt the need to add here that your sole purpose in life is to live for me... HAHAHA! Isn't that how that whole last paragraph read!?!?! But I knew it would make you laugh! So laugh! HA!)
You are treasures to me. :)
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