At What Cost?

What is it going to cost me?  It is a question we ask ourselves on a daily basis. 

I propose that maybe there is a different question that we should ask ourselves.  What will my decision cost others? 

I am convinced that when I make a decision to satisfy my own fleshly desires and that action causes needless pain to others, it will never bring me happiness.  I may experience a false, worldly high for a moment in my life.  However, I have no doubt that in the end, if that high came at the expense of others, I will descend to depths that far exceed the momentary high I experienced.

My good friend and fellow math teacher has this to say:  There are few things I know with more surety than this: Make only your own happiness the center of your life, sacrifice all in order to attain it, and it will evade your every grasp.

I don't know a lot of things.  I am learning and growing every day.  One thing I know.  You will not find happiness when you seek it at the cost of devastation to others.  Let me go further and say that when  the cost is emotional harm to children, I fear we are crossing a very dangerous line.

This blog is not written in reference to my own personal life.  I am just sick and tired of watching people make decisions that bring nothing but devastation and destruction into the lives of others.

Galatians 6:7 (GOD’S WORD Translation)
Make no mistake about this: You can never make a fool out of God. Whatever you plant is what you’ll harvest.

And in the words of Forest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."

Life is not always a day at the fair.

Today, I had a flashback.  It happened in church.  I have no idea what triggered the memory.  It was completely random and came out of nowhere.  My mind went back to the day that we signed divorce papers.  The lawyer had asked if we needed to come separately.  We did not need to do that.  I drove to downtown Pensacola and I could not hold back the tears.

I knew the dreaded day was coming.  My lawyer had prepared me and I thought that I had prepared myself, but I had not.  It is one of those moments in life that you are never prepared for, no matter how much you try.  Actually, it felt much like the day that my best friend lost her husband to cancer.  He had been told that he was in stage four colon cancer 18 months earlier.  He took part in experimental treatments that gave their family more precious time.  But, all along the way, they were told that there was no cure.  The family got things in order.  They spent wonderful time together.  Friends and extended family loved them and supported them throughout the journey.  Hospice prepared my friend when the end was near.  He was suffering and everyone who loved him said their goodbyes and let him go.  However, there was still absolutely no way that Andrea was prepared for that moment he took his last breathe as she held his hand.  I arrived at her house about ten minutes after he died.  In spite of all the preparations, it was surreal.

I had that same feeling last July in the lawyer's office.  I have been very open about taking medication.  My doctor had prescribed me xanax to help with anxiety.  I want to be extremely careful in addressing this.  The medication is highly addictive.  It must be used wisely.  My doctor was very cautious and gave me a limited amount.  I know that some are strongly opposed to any type of medication to treat emotional issues.  I have often heard people say, "Well, a hundred years ago, people didn't have these drugs.  They just had to suck it up and deal with it."  To that, I say, "A hundred years ago, we didn't have high blood pressure medicine.  Does that mean we should not take it today?"  So, right, wrong or indifferent, I made the choice to use take the medication on a very limited basis to help me through the very difficult and panicky moments.  However, on this day, that did not even help.  There are times when we go to a bad place and there are no detours around it.  We have to make our way through it, as best we can.

I went to that place last July in the lawyer's office.  The more I signed and initialed,  the heavier my heart became.  I thought I was prepared.  I had probably received a dozen copies of a slight variation of this decree as the lawyers were tweaking it.  Yet, nothing prepared me for seeing those final papers and being there with the one who was supposed to be my partner for life as I signed my name to them, ending the partnership.  With each page that turned, more tears came.  We finally finished.  He hugged me and we got in our separate cars and went different ways.  That was it.  It was over.  I had held tightly to the old road map of my life, but now it was time to put it away and acquaint myself with the new one.

I went to my friend's house that day.  I was staying there alone for a few days.  I cried all the way to her house.  When I pulled into the driveway, I sat in the car a few minutes.  I got out, dried my tears, went inside and grabbed a diet coke.  I took a deep breath and sat down.  I picked up my computer and started writing my first blog.

Life is not always a day at the fair.  Some days just aren't fun.  After reading this blog, some of my dear friends will worry that I am having a bad day.  I am not.  I had a wonderful day at the beach all by myself.  I had time to think and pray about my life and where it is heading.  However, I know that I didn't just have this random memory for no reason.  I had that feeling all day that I needed to share the memory.  I know that many people right now are contemplating divorce.  As long as I have breath, I will encourage people to get in there in fight with all you have within you to save your marriage.  Whether you are married or single, rich or poor, healthy or sick, some days are just hard.  Going from one situation to another is not going to bring the unlimited source of happiness that we all so desperately long for.  There is only one source for that.  When we draw from His source, the other dry and parched areas of our lives are watered and over time can change from a parched wasteland to a lush oasis.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 (New Living Translation)

7 “But blessed are those who trust in the Lord
and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.
8 They are like trees planted along a riverbank,
with roots that reach deep into the water.
Such trees are not bothered by the heat
or worried by long months of drought.
Their leaves stay green,
and they never stop producing fruit.

If life is a highway, I guess I gotta have a car!

I am so fortunate to work with an eclectic group of individuals.  They all bring their own very interesting dynamic into my life.  We have Benji, whom might be considered a modern day C.S. Lewis.  Where would I ever be without my girlfriend, Mel.  You had better not mess with me, or you will have to deal with her.  Trust me on this, you will not win.  The one who probably gives us the greatest quotable lines is Tony.  I think he could be a refined Larry, the Cable Guy.

Yesterday, Tony told me that I needed to go car shopping.  I have a very reliable Nissan Altima that is almost paid for and I have no intention of trading that girl in.  However, I am sure you can gather that he was not talking about a literal car.  Yes, it was an analogy.  "How are you going to know what kind of car you want if you don't go test drive a few?"  That was a starting point for a great conversation.

So, what kind of cars are out there?

Sports car:  "an open, low-built, fast motor car." The term describes a class of automobile with two seats, two doors, precise handling, brisk acceleration, and sharp braking -- trading practical considerations such as passenger space, comfort, and cargo capacity."  Who doesn't love to go for a joyride with the top down and the radio blaring?  As fun as they are, I think I will pass on the sports car.  It just isn't practical.  Since most of them are two seaters, you can only take one person along with you.  There is absolutely no room for luggage.  Even a trip to the grocery store is usually out of the question, unless all you plan to buy is milk and eggs.  They look good.  They are fast and they are fun, but they can also be extremely dangerous if not handled properly.

Luxury Cars: A vehicle that provides luxury -- pleasant or desirable features beyond strict necessity -- at increased expense.  Tony says I should focus on the luxury cars.  I admit they are nice to ride.  My dear friend has a Mercedes and you feel like you are floating down the road.  I am not too sure about this one either.  First of all, they are high maintenance.  Dealers are not readily available, so often you have to send them to another town to be worked on.  In addition, they are usually so nice, that you can't just relax and have fun.  Dirty shoes, drinks and French fries are out of the question.  We have to hold our breath and keep this thing in top notch condition.  Oh, they look good and you feel good in them.  But, I want to be able to relax.  I just don't think that a luxury car is for me.

Economy Car:  A car that is designed for low cost operation.  I know that I risk looking as if I am talking out of both sides of my mouth, but economy car doesn't sound like what I am looking for either. They are not high maintenance, but at the same time, I do want to know that I can reliably make it from Point A to Point B.  I want a car with a good track record and some economy cars don't exactly hold those.

Work Truck: A vehicle that is rated at more than 8,500 and less than or equal to 10,000 pounds gross vehicle weight, and is not a medium-duty passenger vehicle.  A work truck is reliable and there to help you get the job done.  It might not be the flashiest vehicle on the block, but it can take care of business.  Tony says that a work truck might not be thrilling like a sports car, but it is multi purpose.  You can use it for work all day long.  Then you can clean it up and take it into town for a night out.  It sounds nice in theory, but I can't see myself in a work truck.

I am so confused now.  Maybe I just need to get an El Camino, half car and half truck.

Alas, I have considered all my options and I still am not really sure what I want.  I guess that is because I hadn't exactly planned on car shopping.  I was pleased with the one I had.  It suited me well.  But, it broke down and can't be fixed.

I have never wanted to be the one to make the decision when shopping for a car.  It is a major investment. I always felt like whatever I picked, I would have "buyer's remorse."  Well, my friends, the next time I purchase my proverbial car, I plan on it being the last.  I don't want there to be any remorse on my part or the car's part.  That is just not a responsibility that I am willing to take.

So, what is a gal to do?  I am going to do the best thing I know to do:  let the One who knows me best pick out my car.  He knows my deepest desires, needs and hopes.  After all, He is the One who knit me together in my mother's womb.  He knows what will fit me best, meet all my needs and give me a thrilling ride at the same time.  So, I think I will hand Him the checkbook and let Him do the shopping for me. I have no doubt that He will put me in the perfect vehicle, be it a sports car, a work truck or even an El Camino.

In the meantime, He is letting me ride with Him.  I like His car.  It is comfortable, exciting and reliable, all at the same time.   So, I will coast along in this top of the line ride until He decides to hand me the keys to my new (or at my age, I guess I should say used) car.

In the words of Rascal Flatts, "Life is a highway and I'm gonna ride it all night long."

A Time to Grieve

If my marriage had survived, I would have been married 22 years on Friday.  I wonder how long I will calculate the years.  We often do this when we have lost family members.  "Granny would have been 97 if she were still alive."  Even more disheartening, "He would have graduated from high school this year."   It just seems to be a natural thing to do when we have lost something or someone that meant so much to us.

I try to convince myself that the single life has its perks, and actually it does.  I tell my friends how nice it is to not have to answer to anyone.  I do enjoy being able to make spontaneous plans and not have to clear them with anyone. But, the reality is that I will always grieve the death of my marriage. Time makes it easier.  Many people told me this and they spoke the truth. It is like a deep wound.  Over time it heals and there is only a scar left.  With months and years, the scar even fades. Yet, it never goes away. If you look closely, you will still see it, ever so faintly.

My marriage was so ingrained into who I was and who I thought I would always be, that the "would be" anniversary will be difficult for a while.   However, the key word in that sentence is "was." It is over and I must continue to move forward. I will acknowledge the grief, but I will not to live there.  I am going to get up and work my way through the mound of laundry across the room.  I am going to put some color on these gray roots that are beginning to show.  (A good color job always makes me feel better!)  Tomorrow, I will go to the beach with two dear friends that always make me laugh.  But, first, I am going to close out this blog and give myself a few minutes to grieve.  I will not grieve alone.  I will share my cares with God.

1 Peter 5:7 (New Living Translation)
Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.

Kickingwoman settles a very old score!

I am the ghost of Kickingwoman. I was the beloved squaw who was married to the chief of our tribe, Little Turtle. I loved him, and he loved me. We lived together for just two short years, when one day some evil and despicable pirates found their way into our wonderful life. They tried to kill my Little Turtle. I told him to run and hide, and true to my name, I fought and kicked them with all my might. Little Turtle cowered in the back corner of our teepee. He wasn't a coward; he was just little!

After a long fight, I began to get tired. My kicks became slower and softer. The pirates finally wore me down. A very dashing pirate with crystal blue eyes pulled out his sword and pierced me in my heart. After raiding our teepees, they left. Thankfully, my Little Turtle was so small that they never saw him. But he was never to be the same again. He grieved Kickingwoman the rest of his days. He buried my body right outside our teepee. He planted a tree over my grave and would sit by that tree every day and grieve for me. When he grew old, the tree offered some shade to his poor, frail little body.

My body lay at rest there for many years until just a few days ago. That same tree that had provided shade to my Little Turtle and rest to my soul was cruelly taken down. My soul felt pain with every branch that was severed. Now I was in search of the one who has disturbed my eternal rest. I drifted into the room of the young one, but the spirits told me that he was not the one. Then I felt the presence of the one who once took my life. I floated toward the presence and found the room of a pirate. It was not the one who took my life, but as I hovered over the bed, he opened his eyes in his sleep. I would recognize those blue eyes anywhere. It was the great, great grandson of the pirate who ended my time with Little Turtle.  Finally, there could be vengeance for my death. At last I could settle the score and get revenge for the grief that my death caused my Little Turtle all of his days.

There was only one way to escape the retribution of Kickingwoman. There were two pure souls who helped take down the tree that my Little Turtle planted. One could make amends with my weary soul, by compensating these two untarnished beings. Through offerings to the two innocents, one could make amends for the vile act of his great, great grandfather, and my soul could once again be at rest. Otherwise, Kickingwoman could only find rest through revenge on the pirate’s descendant who took away the tree that beloved Little Turtle planted.

I believe that an offering of $1000 each will be sufficient in restitution for the heinous acts of those ancestors.  I trust that descendant will make the right decision. He does not want the ghost of Kickingwoman taking revenge on him!

Timber!

I have failed the photo challenge.  I just didn't have the ambition to get past day four.   If I have to fail at something, it may as well be a thirty-day photo challenge.  I can think of much worse things to fail.

I had an interesting weekend.   I watched with nervous anticipation as my friend, David, shimmied up a Turkey Oak and took it down one branch at a time.  I was on the ground with his son, Jonathan, where things were much safer.  However, as David climbed higher, the pressure on us got a little more intense.  Once he reached the big limbs toward the top of the tree, he could not just cut them and let them fall.  His neighbor is about to do an addition to her house, but I don't think a skylight is in the plans!  So ropes were tied to the branches, and it became the task of Jonathan and me to pull the massive branches away from the house as David was cutting them down.

By this point, I am quite certain that David was feeling seriously shortchanged. My father is a logger.  I am pretty sure that he thought I would have some idea about how this whole process worked.  If that is what he thought, then he thought wrong.  Then there was Jonathan down on the ground with me.  He is fourteen and brilliant with computers; however, like me, his tree removal skills leave a little to be desired.  However, we wanted to help and do our part in the challenge at hand.

The first couple of limbs Jonathan handled on his own and did a great job!  He pulled them right where they needed to go.  Then the limbs got higher and heavier.  That was when things became a bit more nerve-wracking.  David told me to tie a second loop in the rope and help Jonathan.  I looked at Jonathan.  He looked at me.  Neither of us had a clue how to tie a loop.  (Do not ask us how many Wildnerness Girl or Boy Scout badges we have earned.) So from forty feet in the top of the tree, David ever so patiently talked me through the process.  He had to be getting frustrated, but he never showed it.  "Okay, take your left hand and hold the left side of the rope.  Take you right hand and bring the other rope about two feet above your left hand."  He gave me about five more very precise and detailed directions, and I ended up with an amazing loop. 

We were ready.  We had been given a mission, and we had accepted it.  Just before David started cutting the limb, I had to stop for a picture.  Jonathan said, "Yeah, we need a picture.  This could be the last one before we die if that big limb lands on us!"  It was time to do the deed.  David cut the limb.  Jonathan and I pulled with all our might and went about two feet before landing flat on our behinds in a big pile of leaves.  We surveyed the damage.  The roof was saved, but the limb did make a small hole in the neighbor's shed and take out a small piece of her fence.  However, the worst collateral damage was the big split in the middle of the  large Tea Olive outside her bathroom window.  Jonathan suggested that we just duct tape it back together, but I am not sure how that would work out!

We finally came to the last limb.  It made the previous one look like a baby.  David spent about twenty minutes surveying it and trying to decide where would be the best place to cut and which direction we should pull from.  He finally had it all mapped out and then said to us, "You can keep from falling down if you will put your arms behind you to pull the rope and face forward as you pull the limb down."  We had not thought of that.  We positioned ourselves just as he said.  Jonathan looked at me and said, "I'm scared."  I agreed.  David cranked the saw.  We were literally shaking.  He cut for about thirity seconds and yelled, "Pull!"  We ran and pulled with all our might, and we didn't fall.  We pulled the limb down just to the perfect spot where David had planned for it to go.  We were so excited and satisfied with our accomplishment.

I thought about that experience today and realized that it is so much like life and our walk with God.  I felt pretty useless down on the ground.  I did not have a clue what I was doing and felt as if I really weren't much help at all.  I am pretty sure Jonathan felt the same way.  Yet there is no doubt that David needed us down on the ground to help him get the job completed.  We may not have been the most qualified helpers, but our hearts were in it, and that was all that really mattered.

You know, God needs each and every one of His followers to help Him carry out His work here on earth below.  We may feel completely inept at the task that He is asking us to do.  We surely aren't the first ones who have felt this way.  Moses felt completely unqualified when God called him to lead the Isrealites out of Egypt.  He even argued with God about it several times.  Even after God gave him miraculous signs, he still said, "But, God, I get tongue tied and I stumble all over my words."  Yet, he was the one whom God wanted.  God assured Moses that He would instruct him throughout the journey.

In the same way, sometimes God calls us to situations for which we feel we will never be ready.  I think we have to be very careful and seek God with all of our hearts.  I have often seen people venture off into areas where they felt God was calling them to something only to experience failure.  Sometimes it is our own desires that we mistake for God's calling.  However, if we have sought Him diligently and we continue to feel that burning call to carry out a work for Him, then maybe He is calling us to that ministry.  It could be anything from volunteering in a homeless shelter to going overseas for mission work.  He often calls us to those areas where we feel the least qualified.  Why on earth would He do this?  I think the apostle Paul answered that question when he said, "His strength is made perfect in my weakness."  One thing is certain.  When God calls us to do a work for Him, He will give us what we need to accomplish the task at hand.  He will guide us every step of the way.  We just have to listen and follow Him.

This weekend when we didn't know what to do, David ever so patiently talked us through step by step.  I just hate that it took us until the last limb to finally figure it out.  But that is okay.  We listened along the way.  We made mistakes, but we learned from those mistakes.  We finished the task and felt satisfaction at being a part of the process.  I want to serve God in that same way, listening and learning as He uses me to carry out the work He has called me to do!

May all who call ourselves Christians strive to one day hear the words from Matthew 25:23.  Well done, good and faithful servant....enter thou into the joy of the Lord.




Jonathan and I decided to leave a bill for all our hard work!




30 Day Photo Challenge: Day Four

Day Four:  A picture of your night.

I couldn't think of one picture of my nights.  They seem to be made up of a million things.  Last night I went to an appointment in Pensacola, came home and straightened some around the house.  I washed a load of clothes and unloaded the dishwasher.  The bills were screaming for attention, so I tended to those before working on taxes.  There were still dozens of chores, but I abandoned them for some attention to myself and went for a long run.  It was a beautiful night.  The moon was shining bright, and there were stars out.  As I was approaching home, I decided to stop by and visit my neighbor, JoJo.  She was already in bed but not asleep.  I got something to drink from her frig and hopped on the other side of the bed.  We had the nicest visit.  I came home and showered because I stunk to high heaven.  I folded clothes and made the coffee with a sigh.  It was a sure reminder that five a.m. would roll around all too quickly, and I would do it all over again.  

As I walked to the bed, I looked around.  In spite of everything I did, I still didn't come close to getting it all done.  I have just accepted the fact that I no longer have it all together.  Things were not always this way.  In the past, my nights consisted of half the chores followed by curling up on the couch with the family as we watched our favorite shows.  My night's picture could have been more aptly a pretty package with a big beautiful bow.  The day's activities were all wrapped up.  The loose ends were all tied and the loops were closed.  

Now my night looks more like the splatter-paint picture.  It is a mess, but it is a beautiful mess.  It has character in its own crazy way and depth that the pretty package was seriously lacking.