The Dusty Road

It has been so long since I've posted.  I'm a little ashamed of myself - but life... well, life has just been crazy lately.  I'm pulling a writing out from earlier this year tonight to get myself back on track.  I'd love some feedback.

        The dust settled about my feet as I paused only for a moment.  The rumble of the crowd lining the street became dim in my mind.  My feet stumbled a few more steps – dry and cracking against the uneven and stony ground.  I winced as the cracks broke open and my blood began to dot the dry ground.  It drank my blood thirstily, leaving only dark smears as I drug my feet.  The tears began to trail down my face, mixing with the sweat from the wood strapped to my back.  It was my guilt, my shame, every wrong I had ever done.  They had found out about it all.  There had been no mercy as they tied my wrists to the rough wooden post across my back.  I stumbled again, the wood scratching into my almost-bare back, the ropes digging into my wrists as I struggled to remain standing.  I gasped, but it was hard to breath beneath the weight of the planks.  My sobs came in short, spastic bursts that blurred my eyes and parched my throat with dust.  I could no longer make out the people lining the street.  How could they do this?  How could they watch me suffer this way?  My knees buckled and the rough hand of a soldier jerked me back to a standing position.  I yelped as his fingernails dug into my parched skin.  Sweat ran down my back and arms and legs in streaming rivulets.  When my legs decided they could hold me no longer, I crashed to my knees.  Unable to catch myself, my face smashed into the ground next.  Though my knees hurt, it was nothing compared to the sharp pain radiating through my face.  As I struggled to rise, the warm metallic taste of blood drizzled into my mouth.  I lost my will.  Let them kill me here.  There was no point in getting back up.  There was nothing left to live for. 

            Then I felt someone move to my right.  I instinctively flinched, expecting a crushing blow.  Instead, a firm, warm hand grasped my upper arm and pulled me gently to a kneeling position.  A man that I had never seen before cupped my chin, raising my face to meet his.  He had the kindest eyes I had ever seen.  I couldn’t understand why the guards had stilled, watching with cautious eyes.  The man knelt beside me as I watched him and began to untie the rope binding my wrists.  When he finished with the first, my arm fell to my side, numb from the pain.  Then he moved to my other wrist, carefully untying it.  As my body slumped, he grabbed the wood on my back and lifted it off with a groan.  The plank was heavy and awkward.  He set it on the ground and then knelt before me once more.  “Why?” was all I could think to whisper.  A soft smile graced his face.  “Because, my child, you are loved.  Believe in me and you will be saved this persecution.”  My brain struggled to understand.  “But who are you?” I murmured, my voice shaky.  The man placed a gentle hand on the side of my face, wiping away a trickle of blood with his thumb.  “I am.”  As he spoke those two little words, the guards seemed to come out of their trance and grasped him roughly.  I watched in shock as they threw the boards upon his back and jerked the ropes around his wrists.  What were they doing?!  I couldn’t move, though.  I watched as they yanked him to standing.  Blood was already coursing down his arms from the ropes.  As they began to pull him along the dusty road, his eyes met mine one more time and he whispered, “Believe I am.”  Suddenly, I knew that this was the man I had heard about.  The Son of God.  The I am.  My legs had lost their feeling and as they dragged him away,  all I could do was watch. 

            By the time I could feel my legs again, I ran after the crowd following the soldiers.  I watched in shamed silence as they raised a rugged wooden cross and I recognized the man hanging on it.  Blood gushed from wounds in his hands and feet as he sagged against the cross.  I pushed my way through the crowd and fell to my knees at the foot of the cross.  His eyes met mine when I raised my head.  “Father, forgive them,” he cried.  Then, eyes still holding mine, he whispered, “I will see you in paradise, my beloved.  You have been set free.”

Put your clothes back on...

FAIR WARNING:  This post will more than likely aggravate, irritate and generally piss off some (most) people.  You do not have to read my blog.  That little red "X" up in the right hand corner of your screen will get you out of here in the quickest fashion.  Otherwise, sit tight because I'm feeling "rant-y."

I check Yahoo! every morning before work.  All of my email accounts are through Yahoo! so it's only natural that I browse through the headlines of what they call "news."  Let's be honest - that and the local weather is pretty much the only news I get because watching the actual news is depressing.

So, I've been noticing several articles about the new "50 Shades of Grey" movie.  Please note: I have not read the books and do not intend to.  I am not a prude.  I'm just not comfortable reading a book that is wholly about sex (in a fictional fashion).  I can read a book that has a few sex scenes and it doesn't bother me.  However, I will not be reading this series.  Just like I will not be seeing "Magic Mike."  All of my reasoning boils down to this:

I would not be okay with my husband seeing a movie based solely on the life of a stripper.

I would not be okay with him seeing a movie based solely on sex.

I'm sorry - call me what you may, but if I'm not okay with him doing it, then I am certainly not going to do it.

"But it has a story line..."

Yes, and Hooter's has chicken wings.  But that's not why people go there, right?

I digress. 

We have such double standards for what's okay when it comes to men and women. 

Mind you - there is a GIGANTIC difference in noticing someone as attractive as opposed to undressing them with your mind.  

I can admire Channing Tatum as an attractive man - but to watch him literally strip on the big screen is going to cause my mind to think things that are not beneficial to my husband, my marriage - or basically in general.

I have no problem with my husband noticing an attractive woman.  One of his favorites is Natalie Portman (my gosh, the woman is gorgeous - let's be honest).  I notice attractive men.  That is natural.  However, when you take it a step farther is when it gets out of hand.  We have to protect our minds and hearts because if we're honest, that's where the trouble begins.  The moment you start thinking "Oh, it's no big deal" is the moment it can get a foothold in your life.  We have to safeguard our marriages, our minds, our hearts, our children.   

Thus begins my rant (oh wait, you thought I had started already? Haha).

Women of the world - wear some damn clothes.  When did we move away from believing that modesty could be beautiful?  I understand the need to express yourself.  I understand the desire to wear something that shows off your body.  However, you can do both of those things while covering up.

I daresay that a well-fitting pair of jeans and a well-fitting shirt can be just as sexy as a pair of short shorts and a tank top.  I daresay it may be even more sexy.  When did we, as women, start thinking that we have to show off our bodies to be noticed?  

And when we decide to "dress with less" - what message are we sending to the people around us?  

My husband doesn't need to see your boobs.

My daughter doesn't need to see your boobs.

I don't need to see your boobs.

Cover it up.

We, as women, have been given incredible, strong, beautiful bodies.  There is nothing wrong with being proud of your body.  But can we please start treating them like we're proud of them?!  

Beth Moore said it best.  When women "dress with less," we are trying to be noticed.  Usually, we don't care by who.  Just someone.  Anyone.  And what if that someone is another woman's husband?  Or an 8-year-old boy?  Or a man with his 6-year-old daughter?  

Yeah, yeah, I hear the opposition now.  "Well, he shouldn't be perverted."  "Well, he shouldn't be looking."

Goodness gracious woman!  When you walk in with barely any clothes on, I notice!  And I am neither perverted nor a lesbian.  

It is natural to notice.  However, if you have to bare it all to get noticed, then you are not attracting the right attention.  

You can't honestly tell me that a man who finds you beautiful is going to find you more beautiful because you have less clothes on.  If he truly finds you beautiful, he will think that no matter what you're wearing.

Do you know how hard it is to teach an 8-year-old girl to dress modestly when all she sees around her is short shorts, spaghetti strap tops and bikinis?  Oh yeah, I had to have that conversation with my daughter when she asked me why I wouldn't let her buy a bikini.  She is 8, for heaven's sake.  EIGHT YEARS OLD!  No, I'm not going to let her buy a bikini.  I wouldn't let her run around in public in her panties.  Why would I let her do it in a different material?  

I have been extremely convicted lately about modesty and the way I dress.  I own a bikini - yes.  I've been so convicted about it lately, though, that I will no longer wear it in public.  We got ready to go swimming the other day and I wore it with a tank top over it for some cover.  I wouldn't dare go in public in my bra and panties - why would I do it in waterproof material?  

Go ahead - call me what you like.

Go ahead - say I'm being judgmental.  

But I don't want to be that woman.  I don't.

Say whatever you like, but the bottom line is this:  Modesty is sexy.  Leave a little bit to the imagination.    

She can't do it like you...

Every time you think “I can’t do that like she does,” just remember that she can’t do it like you can either…

I read those words from a fellow blogger this morning and was like “WHOA!”

Stop the presses.  Hold the horses.  Bar the doors. 

It’s about to get real in here and I need to pay attention. 

I have always heard that comparison is the thief of joy.  I know that.  I understand that concept.   I recognize the value in that statement.  But, being that I am only human, I still compare. 

I compare myself in looks, beliefs, parenting, etc…  and I’m pretty sure that if you were totally, down-in-the-dirt honest with yourself, you do too.

We know we shouldn’t.  We do it, though.

We compare ourselves to friends.  To enemies.  To co-workers and family members.  To the woman we see in Wal-mart.  Or the doctor’s office.  Or a magazine.  Women we have never met.  Women we know.  Women we don’t know.

 

Stop.  Right.  Now.

 

There is only one of you.  There is only one person who acts, thinks, speaks like you.  There is only one person who loves like you, laughs like you, creates like you.  Because there is only one – you.

It’s one thing to be inspired by another woman.  To inspire each other is beautiful.  To encourage each other in some way to become better versions of OURSELVES is remarkable.

To compare ourselves to each other is an attack by Satan.  And what really gets me is that I just let him.  Normally, I don’t fight the comparison.  I just let him slip on in there and start rambling around.

WHAT?!  Since when did we – as God’s girls – start letting Satan just walk around in our lives and do whatever he wants?  Since when do we not fight back? 

Because we’ve convinced ourselves that comparison isn’t harmful – it’s not hurting anyone.  It’s not a sin.

Honey, I want you to know that, as I type this, I am preaching to myself more than anyone else.  I am turning my pointing fingers back to me.  I am acknowledging that I am the world’s worst about this.  But you know, if you admit it, that you struggle with it, too. 

I’m not saying that I won’t ever do it again.  I’m human.  I’m weak.  I am far from perfect. 

But I am taking a stand.

We all know how it feels to have something we’ve created deemed “not good enough.”  If you’re a writer, an artist, a mother, a friend, a human – at some point, someone has taken something that you created and told you it wasn’t good enough.  That is exactly what we’re doing when we start comparing ourselves to other women.  We’re basically telling God that His creation, His masterpiece, His carefully-wonderfully made creation is not good enough.   

Ouch.

I don’t know about you – but that stings a little bit. 

So, take a minute and think about who you’re comparing yourself to and why.  Now remind yourself that you are the only one like you!  You are a beautiful, wonderfully molded, UNIQUE creation of the Most High God! 

I may not be able to do it like “she” does, but she can’t do it like me, either.

 

 

Until next time,

Keep Reflecting J

P.S.  When you start comparing on Facebook, just shut it down.  Put the phone, tablet, computer away and look at what is right in front of you.  That’s why you’re not her.  That’s YOUR life.

Always Find Your Way Back Home

"You can change your hair, you can change your clothes.  You can change your mind, that's just the way it goes.  You can say goodbye or you can say hello, but you'll always find your way back home." 

First of all, don't judge me that I've just quoted a Hannah Montana song - I do have an 8-year-old. 

This song is crazy stuck in my head right now.  You can always find your way back home... but how?  The song doesn't tell you how. 

How do you find your way back when you've turned your back?  How do you find your way back when you've wavered?  How do you find your way back to hope and belief and full-fledged, living-it-out faith?

I do not doubt my God, let me be perfectly clear about that.  However, I have wavered.  I have fallen.  I have turned away.

Our hearts were broken by people that claimed to be of God and, to be quite honest, I've still not recovered from that.  Granted, I don't seethe with hatred any more when their names are mentioned, but I am far from okay.  While this may be the case, I am using it to justify my actions.  I know I am.  I also know I shouldn't be.  Yes, I was heartbroken.  However, to use that as an excuse to continue on the road I'm on is pathetic.  I know it.

I said the F word at a family function last weekend.  Please note that there were no children around when I said it and I only said it loud enough for the people standing next to me to hear.  However, that's not the first time in the past month that I've said it.  Don't mistake me - I don't see anything wrong with cussing every now and then.  Sometimes the situation calls for a word that can only form as a curse.  But for those of you who know me, you know that's not me.  Though lately, I find myself doing it more and more.  I don't want to be that person.

It's been weeks, alright a month, since I've stepped foot inside a church building.  Many reasons have attributed to that, but I think one main reason remains.  I know I need conviction.  I know I need other people.  I know I need the body of Christ.  And I've been throwing up this smoke screen, saying that we've been hurt before and we're afraid to be hurt again.

While that statement is true, that should not be a good enough reason to get me away.

I need full-fledged, living and breathing, moving grace.  I need that in my life.  I need the daily presence.  Oh, how I need it!

So, how do you find your way back to Jesus shining through your life?  How do you find your way back to breathing and living faith? 

How do you find your way back home?

Until next time,
Keep Reflecting

Journeys of a Woman-Child Stepmom: Vol. 7

Things I've learned recently:

1. When you screw up (and you will), sometimes it's just best to say "Yes, I understand and I will try not to do it again."  Don't argue.  Don't defend yourself.  Just move on from it and learn from it. 
2. Don't be a bitch to the secretary/receptionist.  Even if you were told to come in and ask for a specific person, do not be rude to the secretary.  If your specific person is not available, chances are that the secretary/receptionist knows how to help you.  However, assuming that she can't help you simply because she isn't the one in charge is stupid and asinine.  This is especially true for a small company.  Generally, in those cases, the secretary knows more than you give them credit for.  I mean, why would you ever think that the person who answers ALL phones calls, screens ALL messages, and handles ALL files at some point could help you?  My bad.  I must be stupid. 
3. Sometimes parenthood smacks you upside the head with a sledgehammer.  And as you're stumbling there, blinking back the stars, you have to find some way to answer to the small life that you're in charge of.  Sometimes with your head spinning and heart pounding, you have to make a decision and think quickly on your feet.  All you can do is pray through the pauses, open up your arms and let God take over. 
4. Walking down the hallway, when my hair is straightened and flutters out a little with the wind, makes me feel like a super model.  Don't judge me.
5. You never know where God is going to lead you.  Be open to the possibilities.  I still am not sure the plan that He has for this season in our lives, but somehow I feel like He may be bringing us full circle.  It was a long and winding and sometimes discouraging and sometimes horrifying and sometimes incredible road, but perhaps, just perhaps, He brought us through it all to show us how to serve.  I'm excited to see what the next step in this journey is for us.  He has never failed us before and I know He never will.  Whatever the future holds, I know His love is always full.
6. My husband is the best for many reasons - but this is one of them.  During family night, as we chose a movie out of the apple (a hollow glass apple that we each put two movie choices in and then draw out of) we drew my favorite movie of ALL time... Lilo & Stitch.  If you don't like this movie, you can remove me from your friends list because I don't need that kind of negativity in my life.  Anyways, Brynlea declares that she hates that movie and she is going to her room instead of watching it.  Fair enough.  The apple had spoken.  Do you know what my amazing husband did?  He sat there and watched it with me anyways.  Score!  The amount of happiness that I derive from that movie borderlines on pathetic...  I kid you not.
7. I'm learning to sew.  My first wear-able attempt is a skirt that I made from a dress that didn't fit any more.  I won't show you the waistband because it looks absolutely horrid.  However, when you pull a shirt down over it, no one is any wiser... Double score! 
8. I've created for myself a fictional pioneer family - Grandmama Betsy, Farmer Bill and their daughter, Luanne.  I must say that while Grandmama Betsy is ashamed at how much I check my Facebook and rely on my cell phone, she is pretty darn proud that I learned how to hem a pair of pants.  She is also proud that I made cookies basically from scratch last week and had the patience to let Brynlea help.  Yay me!

Well, that's about it for this one.

Until next time,
Keep Reflecting :)

Heading to a Healthier Me

When the doctor can't tell you why you feel so tired all the time, you start to wonder what's wrong with you.  I've dreamed up all sorts of possibilities - diabetes, hormone imbalance, mono, vitamin deficiencies, etc.  Then, when she asks you if you've gained any significant weight in the past 5 years, you think "Eh, some, but not much."  I felt pretty certain about that.  That was until she pulled my charts from 3 years ago...

Talk about discouraging. 

I could make excuses all day as to why and how I've gained 21 pounds in 3 years - but that's all they are.  Excuses as to why I'm not taking care of the only body I've been given.   

"I got married."  Bullshit - should that not be more of a reason to stay fit and healthy?  For my husband. 

"I started a desk job."  Too bad.  Yet another excuse. 

"I'm a busy mom.  Who has the time to work out?"  Once again, that is a perfectly good reason to be even healthier - to show my daughter that it isn't about being skinny or the number on the scale, but it's about being healthy.

I could go on, but I think you get the point.  This is my journey and I'm going to be completely transparent about it because maybe someone out there struggles with it like I do.  I'm going to post motivation and struggles and yummy, healthy recipes. 

I have a goal of how much weight I want to lose, but honestly, I just want to feel better.  I want to not be exhausted at 8:00 p.m. (unless it has just been a hellacious day).  I want less headaches.  I want to be a more powerful, confidant, healthier me.  I want to be an example to my family.  I want to know I can do it because I put my mind to it.

I refuse to diet.  I refuse to starve myself.

This journey is about making a lifestyle change.  Becoming more aware of what I put into my body.  Learning to enjoy what my body can do.  

It's all about baby steps and taking it one day at a time.  

One day.  Today.

And then tomorrow.

Then the next day.

But today first.

Until next time,
Keep Reflecting :) 

Journeys of a Woman-Child Stepmom: Vol. 6

Things I've learned recently (or more accurately, things I just want to tell you about):

1. People are crazy nosey.  I just wanted to share that with you.  Don't misread this because I am just as guilty as the next person about putting my nose where it doesn't belong.  However, I think asking someone when they are going to have children is a COMPLETELY inappropriate question and if you're not part of the team producing said child, you need to keep your nose in your own business.  Granted, I have asked my friend once if she was pregnant but that was because I had reason to think she might be.  However, asking someone WHEN they're going to have a baby is completely unacceptable.  Yes, this goes for well-meaning parents and concerned family members.  My fertility and reproduction is none - I repeat NONE - of your business.  Now, when I announce to you that I am pregnant (which I'm not), then it becomes your business.  But until that moment, it is not.  Also, I would like to add to those well-meaning family members this little tidbit:  If you are asked when I am having a child, please shrug your shoulders and just say you're not sure.  It's not your place to tell them how long I plan to wait, or if I plan to wait, or if I plan to have children at all.  Let me repeat one more time in case anyone misunderstood me - my reproduction is NO ONE'S business but mine and my sweet husband's.  If you do not fall into one of those two categories, mind your own business.  Since I want people to mind their own business, I will no longer be talking about this subject to anyone but my husband.  I'm not going to talk about if, when, or how I would like to have children.  That way, people have nothing to go on when they want to question my reproduction, or lack thereof.  Thank you and have a nice day. 
2. A wedding is one day out of a lifetime spent with one person.  A beautiful, perfect wedding does not make a marriage - two imperfect people who have God, determination, and a beautiful love for each other do, though.  Neither myself nor my husband are perfect.  We don't always agree on everything.  We have arguments, naturally.  But beneath anything the world can throw at us, we have each other.  We have God and a crazy determination to make this work.  He is my best friend, my confidante, my soul mate.  He is the man I can't imagine spending one day without.  We are not perfect, but perfection doesn't make a marriage.  Hard work, true love and crazy determination do.
3. Be thankful.  That is all.  Just be thankful.
4. I have this theory that movie/book endings should either be completely tragic or completely beautiful (which can be either a happy ending or a poetic one).  I recently saw a movie (I won't name names *cough cough* Oblivion) that was a really decent movie.  I enjoyed the characters, the plot, the special effects.  However, the ending was mediocre.  At first, you thought it was going to be a magically tragic ending - and I was so excited because it was a beautiful tragedy.  Then, they somehow decided to try to save it and make it a happy ending.  The result?  A mediocre ending - not even poetic.  While, yes, it was technically a happy ending - it wasn't really.  It was a second-best happy ending.  It would have been so much better just sticking with the tragic ending. 
5. Be nice to people who do you a service - janitors, cleaners, construction crews, waiters/waitresses, etc.  Go out of your way to do something nice for them because they are doing you a service.  We're having some renovation work done at our new office and my boss called the restaurant where they were having lunch and picked up the tab for them.  My hubby and I cleaned the carpet a little while ago and the people gave us a $20 tip.  The old man told us to "use it for dinner since we were there so late."  You can be a blessing to someone.  Offer them a drink.  Take them a snack.  Give them a extra tip.  Smile and say thank you. 
6. I watched the video of the SUV driver-motorcycle incident.  I've read the articles.  All I can say about the situation is much worse would have happened had it been my family in the vehicle.  Because overall, if it comes down to hurting someone else in order to protect my family, I won't think twice about it.  I applaud the man in the SUV for doing what he had to do to keep his family safe.  If you don't like my opinion, don't read my blog.  
7. There comes a time when you stop and finally say enough.  For me, that time is now.  I'm not going to elaborate further at this point.  Just know, that when something starts affecting your life and your family, it's time to do something about it.

Until next time,
Keep Reflecting :)