Lasagna Tuesdays

Sunday evenings. Time for reflection.  I think if I lived near to my family, it would be the best time of the week for gathering and visiting.

I often imagine what my life would be like if I lived near to my family.  Wouldn't it be lovely to invite someone over for a meal on Tuesday?   What if the kids could have routine sleepovers with their cousins? What if we could do the annual hiking spree?  What if I could eat an occasional chicken dinner or hit up The Hartville Kitchen  for a legit meal?

How has the life I provided for my children been different - has it been better or worse by living all over?   Time is always on my mind these days, each day seems to be precious and fleeting.  I don't think I am spending nearly enough time with loved ones.  I feel it in my soul.  I'm almost to the "old" generation.  The generation I remember so clearly as all my cousins graduated and I was last.  The "aunts and uncles" generation.  The "adults" who manage and run the funerals.  That's me.  I'm the adult. I'm the middle aging one.  My nephews and nieces are graduating and moving out/on.  It's too late for cousin sleepovers.

Every time I look at Noah, he seems taller.  He is becoming so lanky - all legs like his father. All traces of childhood boy are gone.  How can it be?  He is taller than me which makes it difficult for me to say "Get over here and hug your Mom." I can reach into the past and hold baby Noah close.  I smell his sweet baby smell. I hear his little voice.

Aaron is himself graduating from elementary in a few weeks.  Off to middle school.  Out of his mother's heart and into puberty.  Say it isn't so.  Say we'll stay in this moment.  Say we'll go back to "Chee" baby and  monkey boy who as a toddler would routinely climb to the top of the swing set.

It's okay that we have made a life where we found ourselves planted. We have made wonderful memories with many people in many parts of the world.  A sign of being in the aged group is talking woefully about reaching into the past.  But another sign of being in the aged group is that you realize how precious is time and how precious is memory.  You decide to do and not dream.  You invite friends for lasagna on Tuesday.  ( Although they are not nearly as likely to attend as, say, your sister would.)  You go on the vacation you talk about.  You have a bonfire and s'mores because you want to.

In the end, life is what you make it. You can dream and wonder.  And you can do.

I'm grateful to be in the "aunts and uncles" generation - the one I remember observing - because it means I now have the means to do.

Scrabble Mondays.  Lasagna Tuesdays.  Bonfire Wednesdays. Concert Thursdays. Baseball Fridays.

Let's make some memories this year!

Parking Lot Couch

I learned something about myself. Or, rather, I finally admitted something.

I never feel more alone in this life than when I am in a sea of women.

I feel sad, awkward, and lonely.

I paid $30 to attend a women's conference at church.  As a team leader I felt like I needed to support the initiative.  Further, I felt like I should be trying to make some friends. Finally, I thought I might receive encouragement from God.

I stayed for 60 minutes.  Guess where I am? Sitting in my car in a random parking lot.  "Talk to your neighbor and be vulnerable about this first session" they said.

Nope. No. Seriously no.

That is not my bag.

I feel deeply. I embrace authenticity. But do not tell me to get "touchy feely" with a table of strange women. Even if they love Jesus.

I've tried the group of women thing many times, but the truth is, I don't acclimate.  I can't participate.  I have nothing remarkable to say.  I grow increasingly uncomfortable as this knowledge settles in my soul.  I'm a people person so it feels painful. I can firmly and pleasantly hold my own in just about any other social situation you would throw at me.

Because I like to diagnose everything, I'm trying to determine why I'm having such a strong reaction.  Does it really matter that I'm more a 1:3orless ratio person?  The answer is no.  If it makes me uncomfortable and unhappy, I should not feel as though I have to do it.

But guess what.  I do.  I feel it is outlined somewhere that good Christian ladies are required to gather and do these types of things. It appears that everyone is enjoying it. I look around and there is abandon and joy on each face, and it is all I can do to remain rooted in my spot and not dash for the door.  (Except this time I did. And I have loved Jesus since I was 7.)  I have a difficult time when I believe I fall outside expected guidelines; the ingrained pressure I feel to perform as expected in all things is an elephant on my chest. "Angela, I'm sure God wants you to attend this conference" and off I go, never mind that I have been dreading it for weeks.

Ladies (Christian and not) love to get together.  They love it.  I've witnessed it time and again. They pour wine, they talk, they complain, they celebrate, they love; and they are so very anxious to plan the next event.  They find themselves in a group and I lose myself.  Why am I an anomaly?  I want to want to do that, in any of the capacities I'm speaking of.  But if you watch closely....I'm sitting at the back or the edge, I'm quiet and reserved, I am uncomfortable. 

Right now. Today.  I am going to be okay with this. I will no longer put myself where I cannot thrive.  I love the people and if they love me they will understand.

I know that God understands.  Because the best part of my faith is that it is personal.  It's a close relationship with the creator of the stars.  My interaction isn't required to be corporate. I don't have to go to someone else in order to reach Him.  He is right here.  As close as my next breath.  And He rejoices over me - look for it - that is in the Bible.  Maybe He even whispered, "It's okay to run, Ang, you gave it a try, and I'm proud of you."

This is the kind of faith you can put stock in. You don't have to be showy. You don't have to earn it (thank goodness because I just fell short).  God is close.  He is so close, friends.  He comes to the groups and he comes to the one. He is cheering for you on this journey.  He longs to love and rejoice over you just as you are.  A struggle bus party of one who sits outside Price Chopper. 

It's a good takeaway as we head into the weekend....   And He isn't the only one.  I thrive in those small, intimate groups.  I'd be happy to sit with you in the parking lot and figure it out...

What Draws You?

I have had a long standing, deeply passionate love affair with the theater.  There isn't anything I don't want to see.  (Okay, I can think of maybe one.)  I'm going to see The Phantom of the Opera in a couple weeks which is by far one of my most favorites to see.  The music. The passion. The costumes. The sets.  Love.

Theater is powerful - slowly, yet tantalizingly, it draws the observer into the plot; it weaves a web of intrigue or suspense, humor and love, and ever seeks to wrap you firmly in a cocoon of emotional brilliance.  

It's on my bucket list for this current year to see an opera at The Metropolitan Opera House. I want to buy a new dress for the occasion and real heels from Cinderella of Boston. For one beautiful and glorious evening be transferred to a place where music sets the soul on fire and reveals its nature, where the cares of life melt away in the lust for justice and the quest for love.  It all comes down to love, right?  Love drives theater (and specifically, opera).  Love in all its forms, but largely, romantic. 

I want all the romance you can dream up.  You can buy me a milkshake. You can casually offer to sit on the inside of the Scrambler and whisper, "Just let go." Have you felt that rush of joy at the abandon of letting yourself slam against a rock of safety over and over? It makes me blush and giggle but the speed of the ride, the wind, and a safe place always make me want to plunk down three tickets to ride the Scrambler.  

I don't let go often enough. Not nearly often enough.  

The theater gives me the chance to do just that.  I can release all those hormones and chemicals that I'm required to keep at bay at all times.  I allow myself to be swept through the notes, drowned in the words, only to rise and applaud those who gave me this gift. 

Maybe theater doesn't do it for you. Maybe you'll never listen to the strains of La traviata.  But there is something or someone who helps you let go.  Even for an hour it allows peace to cover your head. Even for a few minutes they brighten the room of your soul.

Keep these close.  Embrace the gift.  Allow yourself to enjoy.  For life is made for such as this. 

Strength For Your Day

Readers, one thing that is especially dear, and I don't know if you have encountered this...

I am finding strength for my days.  Unlike any other time in my life.  I am encountering stressors but without an emotional response.  I am doing a lot of things during a time of relative health, but I am meeting most, okay at least many, of my obligations.  I'm very busy but I am not overwhelmed.

I believe a few things are responsible for this change.

I took a relative sabbatical.  Meaning I left a toxic job and environment.  One that had drained me of all energy and hope.  I made the hard choice to leave that mess and pursue a new adventure.  Something for me. A way to stretch and see what I am capable of doing.  If you are a dedicated reader, you know my soul flourished and I loved all it offered.   It was a needed break, although I was not sitting on an island in Tahiti sipping a soda.

I spent time with other people in a way that allowed me to observe life experience and expectation.  I listened more than I spoke.  I approached time with others as a way to learn.  As an avid speaker, it is natural for me to lead conversations rather than wait for others. Those who are more inclined to observe and listen rather than strike out first are just swept along in the wake of USS Ang.  

Lastly, I spent more time focusing on my faith and service. I went to Bible study.  I stepped into a leadership role at church with a team of volunteers, which put me in close proximity to strong followers of Jesus and good mentors.  I put some action to my "good intentions list" and the ripple effects are worth watching.  I don't just say, "I love Jesus" - I am living it alongside others.  The closer your relationship with Jesus is the more assured you naturally are.  You dwell in safety, Jesus has already walked this way, and the stressors of this life are capped with a temporal lens.  

Strength for my days.  Ability to cope and teach coping.  Big strides for the emotionally laden friends among us.

Think about these things, should you fall within such a category.  

If your job stresses you, strongly pursue something else.  Use the "sabbatical" time as an opportunity to grow and work on longer term goals if the new job isn't the height of your dreams.  Don't stay stuck.  It took me a long time to jump and I do not regret the fall.

Learn with and about others.  Listen a lot. Hear the words and experiences.  It will help shape you and enhance your perspective.  Even good, dear, old friends have things in their closet that you don't know yet.  Big or small.  Be the person who can listen and learn about mayonnaise on french fries.

Most importantly - Jesus.  Find him.  He is the key to all your life happiness.  Many things in this life masquerade as Him, but there is only One.  He will heal your heart and you will find wholeness of which you have only dreamed.  Get plugged in - not everybody is doing it but they should!

Thanks for encouraging me as I share my heart.  I've missed writing.  

My Week

With this post, I'm returning from the longest hiatus I have taken since beginning my blog almost two years ago.

2019 has been a rough go.  The last six weeks primarily have kicked my trash.  We do take for granted what it is to be and feel healthy.  I know we do. 

I have been feeling sick for two full weeks.  Some days are better than others, and some days are dreadful.  I feel fine if I don't eat, so for a couple days I didn't eat anything.  I'd get desperate some days and have a couple goldfish crackers around 11am and that was all it would take for my stomach to be in so much pain.  Monday I made an apple pie for my family and of course, the abdominal pain set in since I had tried to eat a little dinner. I didn't eat pie that night, but buddy, by the next night I was so hungry I didn't care.  I inhaled the slice like it was the last thing I would eat.  I savored nary a morsel yet fully enjoyed every last bite. Forty-five minutes later, and for the next several hours, I cursed every apple I'd ever met. 

During this difficult time, my car battery decided to give up the ghost.  This week has been full of appointments and not enough time to replace said battery, so I have been carting around an old battery and jumper cables to keep my car plugging along.  Tuesday I was in downtown Troy for a jazz concert with Noah. I was very careful in my parallel parking so I could have room to jumpstart. (Incidentally, we were the youngest attendees by about 20 years.  It's okay, it was an amazing concert!)

Last night I had plans to get together with a friend.  I ate a bagel and had half an iced coffee.  By the time I bid my friend farewell, I.was.dying. I was in Saratoga which is my least favorite place to be.  It was raining.  It was dark. And I had 17 miles before I would run out of gas.  My car started on its own so that was one blessing in my favor. Saratoga is a bit of a distance from my home and there were not so many gas station around me so I set off on the only way I know...the freeway.  I was sure I was going to throw up in the car.  I could barely focus on the road. I was practicing all the Lamaze breathing, certain this kind of pain was equal to childbirth.   I was ten miles from home and ten miles from E when I got off the freeway and headed down Route 9 certain there would be a gas station.  Nothing. Cuz for the love there just isn't one when you need one!  7, 6, 5....  All I could think was how upset Ryan would be if he had to bring me fuel for the car. He is always lecturing me about "running it down to fumes."

At 4 miles to spare, I found "Little America" in upstate New York.  A tiny oasis in the middle of nowhere that was completely packed.  Every pump occupied with casual Sunday pumpers. Each one turned to stare as I waited patiently for a turn, but none seemed inclined to hurry.  It's at this point I am questioning some life choices.  I should have called my friends more often.  I should have taken my kids to Jamaica. I opened the car door, leaned out, and prayed Jesus take me now.  Little America cleared out fast.

Enjoy good health, Friends, and never take it for granted. Enjoy good friends too, because they are the ones who will bring you fuel when you are throwing up, in the rain, in the dark, alongside the road on Route 9.

Mondays and Hay

I am writing a blog by candlelight.

It's a bit exciting and would probably more so be if I were using pen and paper.

The house is quiet and dark.

In the dark I am a hopeless dreamer. 

I would be simple and carefree, laying on a mound of hay bales eating an apple with a dear friend, reading literature.  I must interject here that there is something so special about a barn full of hay. Oh the places you can hide! You can find a tiny corner where the sun peaks through the holes; you can sit and spread out your skirts and feel the scratchy hay and warm sun on your bare legs.  The smell is dusty but sweet and it feels delicious but uniquely forbidden. 

I would be courageous. In the face of opposition, I would be strong.  I would fight for the weak because I fear nothing.  It's not true, of course, I fear, but in dreams, actions, intentions and outcomes are perfect.  It feels powerful, unlikely, and lends a sense of impracticality.  Having no fear is dangerous and lacks imagination.  It is the balance of fear in tension with purpose that makes passion rise. 

I would be an accomplished musician.  With long, brown curls and a beautiful black lace, floor length dress, I would perform before a large audience.  All my passion would come through my arms, fingers, breath and crescendo with deep, evocative soul stirring music.  Nightly I would be removed from Earth and my soul would be carried along to the stars with melody and lyric.  This is not forbidden or dangerous.  This is beauty as is only given to a few.

I like watching the candle flicker and dance.  It does only as it can to survive and keep flame.  It bring me to reality that I am sitting up in the dark, writing. 

I'm not anything so wonderful as I imagine I might be. 

But the whole of writing is to dream and inspire.  To peak inside a reality and feel it wash over your senses and ingrain itself in your being. To live another life if only for a few moments.  To  taste abandonment which is so distant in the monotony of today. 

A mini present for Monday.  Picture yourself in a grey, weathered barn.  Hay bales stacked to the ceiling.  Climb up the ladder and swing yourself over. Crawl on all fours to the corner.  You will find a little space to squeeze between a bale and the wall.  Pick a friend that is waiting there just for you.  As you approach, their face lights up, as they simultaneously hand you a crisp Gala for snacking.  Here you will spend your Monday afternoon. Unplugged.

Your heart as only you can give, offered.   Your dreams quietly spoken and safely tucked into the bosom of another.  It's okay that nothing changes.  It's okay if none of those dreams come to fruition. 

You have tasted abandon.  Freedom. In the middle of a Monday. 

This is the gift of writing.

A Higher Plan

The brain is amazing.  I think you will agree when you consider all the functions it performs just to get you through each day.  Each lobe has specific jobs and interpretations, and yet, they still must coordinate in complex relationships to relay information.  No area is an island.

It's interesting to note that our identity is locked in brain waves, our emotions locked in chemicals, so that adjustments, even minor ones, may alter who we are known to be.

Does it then scare you that we seem fragile?  Our very selves wrapped up in chemicals, neurons, and complex pathways that might not always function just right.  We think that is a yet future concern if we are "young," but it is possible that tomorrow we wake and find it not be the case.

God has not often presented trial to me in the form of illness or medical need.  I lead a relatively healthy life to this point, for which I am thankful, but in recent months and weeks I have been feeling unwell as I shared in an earlier post.  I received a diagnosis yesterday and treatment and management are now under way.  I am taking some prescribed medication and it is already having an effect. Tiny white pills are actually changing me.  It's fascinating, truly, what the body and mind do and how we respond.

As a nursing assistant, on clinical rotation I worked in an Alzheimer's unit.  It was far from a pleasant experience.  I was seven months pregnant and one of the patients became irate and began shoving and hitting me.  My balance wasn't great because I am a short person and by this point in my pregnancy my center of gravity was difficult to locate.  All ended well, without serious consequence, but I never forgot her face.  How upset she was.  How completely lost and alone.  How she then rocked and hugged all eight of her baby dolls which I was told seemed to represent her children.  She thought I was going to hurt her child, and while her mind was struggling with reason, her protective instincts were intact, and perhaps overcompensating for the lack of clear thought. Maybe somehow deep inside she knew this wasn't quite right or perhaps her mind was so shrouded in grey that it was not possible to decipher any of it.  I think about her.  I wonder what she was like at forty.  I wonder about her eight children.  Once her mind was clear, and her life, vibrant, I suspect.

Movies are dedicated to the topic.  The Notebook being quite popular with the ladies.  Of course it is enchanting to think that someone will love you even when you've lost yourself.  Of course we want to believe that someone will stay the course because they still know you.

I think losing the person you know yourself to be would be so painful.

I think being lost inside yourself would be so lonely.

And, yet, I believe that there are people walking around looking "normal" but feeling these exact feelings.  People I see every day, uncertain, lonely, and worse, unloved.

The mind is a powerful thing.  We are wrapped up in our emotions, neurons, and chemical balance.  But we are also managers of our souls.  A deep part of us that is looking for answers, seeking hope and life.  I believe the soul overrides and outlives the temporal.  I believe the soul lives forever.  The hope I have in mine is what spurs me to help the lonely, to show certainty, and to love.

We are not guaranteed to keep ourselves just as we are.  Time will change us.  Our strongest thing - our mind and will can be altered.

But our soul.  That can be kept by God above.  See a higher plan, dear friend, in this world.  Seek hope and life to fill your soul.

Tell the stories. Make the confessions.  Free yourself from the chains that would bind you.

Grace we cannot understand will meet you.

Your life will never be the same.

I leave you with a quote:
"To love another person is to see the face of God."