we're not who we were

pete has some weird quirks.
1) he hates the rain.
2) he whimpers and kicks in his sleep.
3) his leg spontaneously shakes uncontrollably.

as i sat on the couch to do some work this afternoon, pete curled up next me and instantly fell fast asleep. as usual, once he hit the really deep sleep he started twitching, kicking and whimpering through what appears to be a horrible nightmare. he looks just like the dogs in old cartoons.

it makes me think...what is he dreaming of? what happened to him before the smiths rescued him and he came into my life? i sometimes joke that he was in a dog gang protecting the streets of charlotte, but the truth is that i'll never know. was he abused? was he neglected? was he a doggy pimp? who knows...

sometimes i let myself get lost in the wondering and i feel horrible. why does he whimper? why does he flinch when i pet him and he doesn't see me coming? why does his leg shake when he's just sitting in front of me? i want to know who hurt him and i want to give them a piece of my mind.

the same applies to people. i look to the people in my life - their quirks and the decisions they make. what's their "why"? what happened to them to make them this way? i want to know who hurt them and give them a piece of my mind.

my friend chuq asked me a few years ago, "what happened to you?". i used to be so confident and positive. now i'm hesitant and cynical. my response was vague: "life happened." but i can pinpoint the moments, situations, individuals and relationships that shaped the person i have become, quirks and all.

i have been blessed with some wonderful friends in my life. last night i spoke with one such friend. she has been going through a lot of the same things as me over the past couple years. there are similarities in our stories: disappointments which have altered our path, men who have bruised our spirit, relationships that have changed our very being.

we've been on a long road, this past year or so, to be better versions of ourselves. to be more confident, more faithful, more honest, with others and (more importantly) with ourselves. we are learning more about ourselves and why we make the choices we do, why we have become the people we are, and changing our thoughts and behaviors accordingly.

last night, she called me to talk through her experiences throughout the evening. she had a breakthrough. a major breakthrough, although she probably wasn't thinking of it like that at the time. she made decisions congruent with her values, and that's too often more difficult than it should be for all of us. she stayed true to the person she is becoming instead of falling back into old habits. it may sound trite, but i could not have been more proud of her in that moment.

she's not who she was.

this was a huge step. not just for her, but for me too. what she didn't know at the time, was that she was giving me the courage to do the same that night.

i may never know why pete cries and trembles in his sleep, just as i will never know the complete history of every person i meet. i will never know their reasons, i'll never know their "why". i can only try to understand myself better, recognizing the causes of my own intricacies. then work to become that better version of myself, i talked about earlier.

i'm making progress. i'm not quite there yet, but i'm not who i was.


"i wish you could see me now 
i wish i could show you how
i'm not who i was
i used to be mad at you
a little on the hurt side too
but i'm not who i was
 
i found my way around
to forgiving you
some time ago
but i never got to tell you so
 
well the thing i find most amazing
in amazing grace
is the chance to give it out
maybe that's what love is all about

i wish you could see me now
i wish i could show you how
i'm not who i was" 

~ brandon heath - i'm not who i was

a letter to you

i write a lot about an elusive "you" in this blog. my father is sure he knows who you are. certain friends are sure you're someone else. the other night, cori asked me just exactly who you are and what you did to me.

apparently inquiring minds want to know who you are.

the truth is, that you change from blog to blog.

sometimes you are the man i dated behind the scenes for years. you messed me up big time, but the memory of you fades as my wounds are healed.

sometimes you are a variety of forgettable men from my past.

sometimes you are the man who has been my friend through it all. one million thank yous could never thank you enough.

tonight, though, i write to someone different. tonight you are the man who will someday choose me, because you matter so much more than the others.

as the civil wars song goes:

"dear whoever you might be",

i'm not perfect.
i haven't always been patient.
i've made a lot of mistakes.

...and i have a few confessions...:

1) in the words of bono, "i still haven't found what i'm looking for". i've looked around, but i just haven't figured out what exactly i'm looking for yet. maybe that's why we haven't been introduced yet - because i've been too blind.

2) i haven't really figured out me yet, either, and it may take me a lifetime to learn who i am.

3) although i love to cook, the kitchen table is always covered in randomness. mail, purse, computer, shopping bags - you name it, it's probably spent some time on there. it just happens to collect everything as i walk in the door. only the lucky items actually make it to their rightful place in a timely manner.

4) left to my own devices, i'd be a hermit. i love to spend time with friends, but i am perfectly happy to come home from work, go for a run with my dog and spend the evening curled up on the couch with my cat. (let me make one thing clear - i am not, in fact, a hermit. i go out with friends all of the time. i'm simply admitting that sometimes i have to force myself to get out there.)

5) yes, the number of pets in my household outnumbers the amount of humans. i have a dog and a cat. this does not make me a weird cat lady. this does, however, mean that we're a packaged deal.

6) i hate to clean the bathroom. i love vacuuming, scrubbing the kitchen, doing the laundry and, yes, i even love to iron clothes. i just hate the bathroom.

7) i've been killing bugs for years now, but i'll be happy to pass that responsibility on to you one day.

8) i am a family girl. i love family. i could never be happy not spending holidays and special events with family (whether it be mine or yours - i'm flexible).

9) i have been known to, on occasion, sleep walk, sleep talk, snore and steal the covers. all at the same time. (no, that's a lie. how could anyone do all of those at the same exact time?)

i'm sure i could write a confessional list to 50, but this is enough for tonight.

so, to whom it may concern, i'm excited to meet you one day, but rest assured that i am not just sitting around waiting. i am living my life to the fullest in preparation for a full life with you.

be prepared, you...
i am anything but simple.
...but i could be simply fantastic.

puffing

my friend bootsie knows a thing or two about boys. she's raised two of them, so she at least knows more than i do. years ago we were talking about her youngest son, who was in college at the time, and she talked about his "puffing". puffing (or maybe "poofing"? with her accent i could never tell...), she described to me, is when boys notice someone checking them out and they show off. she likened it to peacocks strutting and fanning their feathers to impress a peahen. puffing also occurs when boys notice someone they want to notice them, whether or not that someone is checking them out. they use this tactic to get what they want - attention.

i've seen my share of puffing, but wednesday night at the small town favorite, the sportszone, the puffing was out of control.

local law enforcement (i was there with a police officer so i know these things) says that thanksgiving eve is their worst day of the year. sportszone servers (ours sat and talked with us for a while so i know these things too) confirm the same sentiment for the bar. maybe it's because it's the first time many new college students come home, so it's a time to reconnect with old friends. or maybe it's because it's the first time old high school friends gather together again since turning 21, but the place is PACKED.

i've heard tell of this phenomenon, but have never experienced it until now. i remember friends calling me years ago after pseudo high school reunions at the thanksgiving eve sportszone party extraordinaire, but because i haven't been to ohio for thanksgiving in seven years, this was my first time seeing it first hand.

by now, the people i knew from high school have moved on. i recognized only two people in the entire bar with which i actually attended high school (other than the two friends i met there). the rest of the crowd were probably ten or twelve years old the last time i saw them. let's just say we felt old.

anyway, you can imagine the amount of puffing going on in this place. high school athletes seeing each other for the first time since graduation. girls dressed up in trashy clubbing clothes to see their friends (girls engage in puffing too, you know). everyone showing off how college has supposedly matured them and made them hotter.

i saw it that night, and i saw it all the time when i worked with high school and college students. guys acting completely normal until a pretty girl walks in and their entire posture changes. they stick out their chest a little stronger, let the light in their eyes dance a little brighter, and smile with a smirk that salesmen would kill for.

at times they would even try it on me. like somehow if they schmoozed me enough that it would make me more lenient with them.

one of the boys wednesday night tried it too. maybe it was because i knew his older brother. maybe it was to prove to himself that he could make an older girl interested in him. maybe he's just that ridiculous that it comes so naturally he can't control it.

just like i did when students did it, i couldn't help but laugh a little on the inside. did he really think it was working? i've been working with teenagers and young adults for all of my adult life. i see through it every time.

sometimes i would let them think it was working because putting them in their place seemed like it would crush their confidence. then again, sometimes i would play the part of the confidence crusher with joy. it all depended on the mood i was in.



i'm preparing for a work event this week where i suspect there will be a lot of puffing. i am already planning my outfits and the fact that i'm doing this so early proves that i could succumb to a little bit of puffing myself. i will dress my best, present myself polished, and remain professional at all times. ...i will also be my authentic self at all times.

presenting your best self isn't a bad thing. and fundamentally, that might be what puffing is. but puffing always goes to the next level. it's the difference between my two old friends and i enjoying a conversation at the corner booth, and the two guys who start a fight and are escorted to the door in headlocks. it's the difference between planning my professional dress ahead of time and girls dressed like they're going to a hooker night club standing in the middle of a small town sports bar slash restaurant.

maybe if we stopped puffing we could actually let our authentic selves shine true. maybe if we all quit trying so desperately to impress each other we might actually take the time to get to know each other. maybe if we stopped caring what others thought about us so much we might actually be who we were meant to be and not some cookie cutter version of what society tells us we ought to be.

living together: yes or no?

someone asked me the other day how i felt about living with your partner without the promise of marriage. he was surprised by my response.

i prefaced my response by articulating my recognition of the fact that not everyone is as defensive about their lives as i am. so while i understand that what is best for me may not be best for everyone, i think that my reasoning may raise some good questions for him to ask himself before jumping into an apartment with his girlfriend too quickly.

most people think that i'm against non-marital cohabitation for conservative religious reasons. usually they think i just blindly believe that no one should live together because it implies sex outside of marriage and surely i would think that's an evil sin. they aren't exactly correct in their assumptions.

a summary of my beliefs in this arena:

1. i believe in gay marriage, so until that is acknowledged in all corners of the world then there will always be people in solid, beautiful, God-formed relationships living together without a marriage license. so, clearly the idea that living together outside of marriage is an evil sin is not an idea that i agree with.
2. i believe that the biblical stance on sex outside of marriage is less about the physical nature of the act and more about the mental and emotional implications of tying yourself to another person so completely. so, do i think that all sex outside of marriage is an evil sin? no. but do i think that there are very real implications for sexual relationships both outside and inside of a marriage? absolutely. (if you want to read more on this, check out rob bell's sex god, or, my favorite, lauren winner's real sex.)

now that we have that out of the way, let's get back to this blog.

i've heard a lot of great arguments in support of non-marital cohabitation. i get all of the postmodern "you have to know if you can live with the person, day in and day out" justifications and i understand that it really is important to realize what exactly you're getting into, but i think that's the very reason i don't think i could ever do it.

(are you confused yet? to sum up so far: i'm not against living together, i just don't think it's for me.)

i'm simply not strong enough to let someone so completely into my life without the guarantee that they won't disappear one day. and i know, i know...i know that signing a paper license makes no guarantees either, but i have to believe that standing before God, family and friends and declaring our commitment to one another makes walking away something very different from simply moving out of an apartment i shared with a guy i've dated for a few months.

as a creature of habit, the idea of living with someone day in and day out scares the heck out of me. i've been on my own for a long time now and i have my own particular way of doing things. creating new habits, new routines, new consistency with someone else will be hard work for me. really hard work. (are you appreciating yet just how much a hate change? because if not i can add another "really" with a capital R, or even all caps if that will make the message loud and clear.)

i think when you live with someone, when you offer your whole vulnerable self to that other person, that's an enormous risk to take. contrary to what some people may think, for me, it's not about the whole "your body is a temple" pre-marital sex stuff. it's about making sure that i'm prepared for the consequences, should an end come one day.

for example, here i am lying in bed, completely unsettled because my dog pete has chosen to sleep on the couch instead of cuddling up with me for the night. i can't get comfortable because "comfortable" for me now requires a warm dog curled up at my side whimpering through his nightmares.

what happens when comfortable means coming home every day to the same wonderful man to talk and laugh about our days at work? what happens when comfortable means sharing breakfast and dinner with the same person every day? what happens when cleaning the house takes half the time because he takes half of the chores? what happens when i depend on him to fix my car or remind me to make the regular six-month appointment with the dentist that i always forget? what happens when my stuff becomes his stuff and his stuff becomes mine?

wonderful happens, that's what.

but what happens when it ends?

that, my friends, is what makes me believe that i could never live with someone outside of marriage. because sharing life so intimately with someone else after having been so independent for so long will be difficult enough for me. having that all taken away? i think that's more then i could handle.

bedtime confession

confession: sometimes i sleep in the guest bed because my bed feels too crowded.

sure, i have an angry cat who likes to crawl on my face at night and a sixty pound pup who sprawls out like the bed is all his, but that's not really what causes the claustrophobia.

in the quiet of the night i'm haunted equally by the dark memories of regrets and the memories of better times. my heart starts racing and my mind sprints to keep up. suddenly, i am surrounded by my ghosts.

by grandpa and his quiet smile.
by that little boy in englewood who just wanted to be held.
by songs that touch my soul.
by stories that stretch my imagination.
by the hearts i've broken.
by the heart that broke mine.
by friendships built on mutual quirkiness.
by friendships that ended over trivial matters.
by the fact that i'm not living as "green" as i'd like.
by the fact that i never really knew my mother's father.
by stolen moments with strangers.
by swings that seemed to send us to the heavens.
by angry emails in my inbox.
by lyrics that can't seem to leave my head.
by questions for the Creator.
by questioning my self.

sometimes it just gets to be too much
and i can't handle it.

so i walk down the hall and crawl into a bed that's cold from a long vacancy.
sometimes the pets follow, but somehow the ghosts never do.

sudden loss

on a night like this, when stories of heartbreak and fear, frustration and even death are found on the other end of the telephone line, i pray.

i realize that we are holidays away from the season, but the spirit of easter is with me tonight.

i pray the prayer of good friday.

i pray the prayer of holy saturday.

i pray that easter will come for those suffering from such devastating life stories right now. i pray for the hope that comes with easter morning, all the while remembering that easter sunday doesn't bring with it the resolve of answers. if anything, it raises more questions.

but it brings hope. hope of a tomorrow without pain. hope of a life without death. hope of life everlasting.

and so my friends,
feel the pain of good friday.
experience fully the depth and breadth of utter heart-wrenching loss.

and feel the confusion of holy saturday.
the frustration of waiting for a future you're unsure will ever actually become reality.

just don't be so blinded by the loss that you don't recognize easter when it arrives...

regret

i miss the way your personality could light up any room.
the way the mere mention of your name could make people laugh and dance.

i miss the way your whole body would turn serious when you were arguing your point.
the way your whole stance would change and the light in your eyes would change from green to grey.

i miss the way you were always right.
or at least you thought you were...

i miss the way you knew something about absolutely everything.
the way your mind could remember every bit of information you had ever heard.

i miss the way you would smile at me from across the room.
the way the room seemed to part like the red sea and you could hear the distant movie score.

i miss the way you held my hand under the table so no one would see just how sweet you can be.
because those sweet little moments were the best of my life...

i miss the way you let me think i was meek, but loved the bold me better.
the way you didn't mind that i was a strong-willed, stubborn woman who only pretended to be laid back.

i miss the way you would text me loving words while we were sitting in a room full of friends.
the way you would remind me that you were mine and i was yours.

i miss the way you would kiss my forehead and make me feel for even just a moment like i was the only girl in the world.

i miss a lot of things about you.
...about us.

but i don't miss you.

parenting 101

lessons i've learned from observing my neighbor's superb child-rearing skills.

1) if your child is screaming bloody murder, it is best to lock her outside of the apartment for 15 minutes until one of your neighbors knocks on your door to ask why you seem to find enjoyment out of torturing your children.

2) play your music deafeningly loud and you'll never hear the kids screaming anyway.

3) if it's rainy outside, don't worry! the open staircase between the first and second floors makes the perfect jungle gym!

3b) there's also a great cardio track if you send the children running down the first floor hallway, up the south staircase, up the second floor hallway and down the north staircase. and don't forget to encourage them to stomp down the stairs as loudly as possibly, complete with a full force jump at the end. luckily, the entire space is open so you can hear them no matter where they run!

4) when your child purposefully damages your neighbors property, simply pretend like you don't understand the english language.

5) teach your children to run toward large energetic puppies. furthermore, make sure to remind them to plunge their hands back and forth toward the dog's face.

6) if you really want to teach your children to make friends with their new dog-friends and neighbors, teach them to feed the dog horrible things like paper and sticks and kids meal toys.

7) children perform best at school when they've had as little sleep as possible, so be sure to keep them up until approximately 3am every night.

8) don't teach your children boundaries. and make sure that they know to talk to any and all strangers. at any time of day or night. whether they have shown their complete disdain for you or not.

a shared heartbeat

i should be reading for book club tomorrow, but instead i am sitting here with tears in my eyes after reading an article someone posted to facebook this evening.

"iowa couple married for 72 years dies holding hands, an hour apart"

i may not be a sappy person, but i couldn't resist the article after seeing that title. as i read, i found tears forming just behind my eyelashes desperate to escape down my cheeks.

the article recounts the story of an elderly couple involved in a car accident on their way into town. the couple was sent to the emergency room, but it was eventually determined that they would not survive their injuries. they were then moved to a room where their beds could be close enough together to hold hands.

"'they joined hands; his right hand, her left hand,' sheets said.

gordon yeager died at 3:38 pm. he was no longer breathing, but the family was surprised by what his monitor showed.

'someone in there said, 'why, then, when we look at the monitor is the heart still beating?' sheets recalled.

'the nurse said dad was picking up mom's heartbeat through mom's hand'

'and we thought, 'oh my gosh, mom's heart is beating through him,' dennis yeager said."

...her heart was beating through him.


last night as i was caring for pete's sore feet and itchy face, i couldn't help but cry. his face was itching relentlessly and he had chewed his feet so badly that they were painfully raw. i searched him for fleas. i checked for injuries. i felt his hurried heart beat. i was determined to find out what was wrong and fix it for him. i researched online. i called his old vet in NC. i did everything short of going to a 24 hour animal hospital.

eventually though, i simply held him in my arms and rocked him gently, trying to calm his anxiety. i didn't know what to do to help him calm down but to love him, which somehow worked more than any of the other methods i attempted. eventually his heart beat slowed to a normal pace and either the itching ceased or he was too tired to fight it any longer.

today i started him on a steroid, bathed him in an awesome new dog shampoo, treated his feet, trimmed his nails and even bought a cone of shame in case he still went after his poor little feet. i don't know if it was the pill, the shampoo, treatment, or the threat of the cone, but he is itch free. he hasn't touched his feet and hasn't scratched his face this evening. he is a tired, but happy puppy again. last night, however, the only thing that would comfort him was for me to hold him close to my heart and let him feel my calm.

because sometimes there is nothing we can do for one another but share a heartbeat. i wonder if that is what gordon and norma were for each other in those last moments - a shared heartbeat, a calm spirit, a common love.

"'dad used to say that a woman is always worth waiting for,' dennis yeager said. 'dad waited an hour for her and held the door for her.'"

the bass who reads braille

church was extravagant this morning. and not in a "i can't believe they spent this much money on all of this. shouldn't we be feeding the hungry in our town?" kind of way.

the church orchestra was in rare form. it must be all the extra practices they've been holding in preparation for this weekend's performances of "jesus christ superstar".

i have two confessions. 1) i was late to church this morning and slipped into the balcony during the first hymn. 2) for the first few minutes of the service i wasn't really focused on God, as i was busy admiring the music, most especially the lively upright bass player and the strong voice of the man standing next to me.

as i watched the orchestra with awe, i couldn't help but notice something sticking out in the chorale scenery above. as my eyes scanned upward, i spotted what had been catching my eye.

the chorale is always a picture of perfection. robes hemmed at just the right length. music held at just the right angle. eyes fixed upon the musical director. standing and sitting silently together on cue.

but this week was different. there was a bass holding his music flat against his chest. at first i thought there might be an infliction of his hands, but then i saw it. his fingers were gracefully scanning the pages. he was blind.

he is blind. and yet he reads music. can you imagine the discipline that takes? i don't know that i have the determination to conquer such a quest, but from now on every time i feel like something is too difficult i will think of the bass who reads braille and recalculate my efforts.