Where I'm at.

Where am I?
I'm still trying to figure it out.I think that might be a theme for my life.I start nursing school (fingers crossed) in Feb. It will be an Associates degree in nursing. That should only take me through the summer of 2008 to finish. I'm putting off the PT thing. I need to be a nurse first. Then I can work and save to move to the ideal locale of Seattle. God knows I can't stay in NY.I come to like it a little more each day. A miniscule, a little more.It's not friendly, and I need socialization, community.I'm taking steps. I am going to a church I like. Will eventually join. Then I will also be a part of the weekly home groups. That should give me an anchor, a community. Because unlike most churches I have been to, no one wants to talk. They come to learn and be fed to praise God. Not- to visit and get to know those around them. That would be eegads- southern.
New Yorkers are autonomous. They don't look outside themselves if they can help it. No wonder crime here has no witness. No one looks around to try and help.So I'm still me- taking the Dog to the park, taking my mom to work, cooking, shopping etc for the fam. Cleaning the house. Reading. little odds and ends that help break up the monotony.I am trying to be more grateful. To see the beauty in the moments, as a friend once said. And to break the habits I have reverted too since moving home. Those adolescent, I-don't-know-who-I-am habits that make rebellion the first course of action.
I do know who I am and I need to grab that girl and shake her from time to time. God bless.

Being

"Fear not for the future, weep not for the past." ~

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Right now I am just being. I go jogging with Rollo and mom. I weed the front yard (more like a big flower bed). Eventually I'll replace some of the tiles in the bathroom. I do laundry and buy groceries. I help my mom out with some of her lesson plans. Keep the house clean and cook a few times a week. I play fetch, and wrestle with Rollo. This weekend we're sanding and staining the entry way steps, and retiling the landing. I help out where needed. There isn't a real time crunch about much but my days fill up. I'm not up to a whole lot and I have to say it's nice. I start more hardcore classes next semester and yet I don't feel pressured. Maybe it's knowing that the road ahead is just that ahead. I've decided to stop looking back and wishing I had done things differently, done school differently. I am thankful for the path that brought me here, and I look forward to what lies ahead.

La vie en vie, et aimer.
Live life, and love.

Fear

Change can leave you afraid. I don't know what I fear, the unknown? Failure? But I have been afraid these last days. Afraid to take that next step. To commit to the future. I have been praying... but still afraid.
But, somehow, today I am not afraid. There have been hard times in my life, as in everyone's. But in all honesty I haven't ever had to sustain determination for any real length of time. I've rarely had to invest and not be sure of the dividends. I haven't tried that hard. Here in front of me is a goal. The goal, I know it. And it looks to take a substantial amount of time, mostly uphill and mostly difficult. I will be 32 when I finish PT school. It feels like I am starting over again.
Fear espouses doubt and this sense of never...
Never finishing, never really being able, never being, never, never. Fear is the enemy of gratitude. It is the enemy of hope, it is the enemy of productive individuals everywhere.
SO, Let's rise up! There will be no fear today, there will be appreciation of those who support us, there will be accomplishment, there will be an embarking. Steps will be taken TODAY! Hope came home today! And fear has run the other way!

Hope came home
Home to me today
And fear has run the other way
And words are weak
You don't know how to say
You know I still believe in you
And should my dreams fall through
I will be safe with you
And with every breath I can breathe
I'll sing about how you love me
I'll sing about how you love me

Gotta love BEBO!!

Looking around...

Every place I have lived (save for the Golden Triangle) I have found something good: the weather, the people, or the experience. Something along those lines that makes is special, redeemable.

Here in Brooklyn...
I love being with my family, though I fight many, many pride issues trying hard not to fall into patterns of the "child." My parents have been great. But they will always be the parents and I the child, even if I am an adult.
The weather is wonderful, much cooler than the Texas heat. Although the humidity isn't that much different from the Houston area. We live a mile or so from the water. So fun.
It's dirty. Not filthy or anything just normal city dirty. One morning I took the dog out and forgot to put on my shoes. I was walking on the sidewalk, (which I have done in every other town I've lived in) when this woman walked by and made a "that's so gross" face at me. I looked around at the ground and thought she's right. I washed my feet thoroughly.
In the South most of us are taught to be polite. If you make eye contact in Texas you smile and say "hi." One of the first times I walked the dog here, lots of people were out on their stoops and me being me, I said "hi" and smiled to each person. And in almost every case the response I got was a look of either surprise or indifference. At the store I said "hi" to the checkout girl and said "thank you" when she handed me my change. Needless to say she looked at me as if I was an odd duck. It's laughable. Sincerely.

One really cool thing is the neighborhoods. They are real neighborhoods. My parents know there neighbors and their lineage. Both are Italian and our landlord's mother (a little Chinese lady whom my parents dubbed "Grandma") lives down stairs. She doesn't speak English, but she is always trying to communicate. A little sign language and good inflection and we sometimes understand each other (I think). It's a heavily Asian and Russian-Jewish community around us. I walked Rollo on Friday and heard the words of the Kiddush. I saw this family gathered around the table, sharing in the observation of a lineage of faith. It was so cool. The diversity is just so beautiful.
It's not the South, with its openness and warmth. But its home for now, and it's special.

A Quickie....

I made it!! After 27 hours of driving (19 of that in two days time) I am in New York. Needless to say the next time I get behind the wheel will be too soon. I start nursing school on September 7th, I am totally stoked!
Well, we are off to visit family in Wa. state tomorrow. So, I had better go and finish packing. I am officially the weary traveler! Love and God bless.

To Catch Up...

I quit me second job a couple of weeks earlier than I thought... I realized I didn't have to put up with the chauvinists I worked with. My replacement already knew more than me about accounting anyway, so I put in notice and did a little dance in the office kitchen!!
I preached my first sermon and Chris said (and I quote) "I nailed it!!" I think it went well; I had two good teachers: my Pop and Chris, so who would expect less. It was an awesome experience, very humbling. There is so much more to say about that, but some other time.
I did music for VBS... so funny, the kids were hilarious!! I think anyone who works for a church or maybe even those who just work a VBS come to hate it... ok maybe hate is a strong word but it is definitely a burden. But somehow this time it was sweeter... maybe because it's my last here, or maybe its because I got to teach music rather than an actual class. Either way I actually had fun, I liked being with the kids.
We just got back from Children's Passport Camp in Huntsville... it was so good. The kids had a great time and I met some awesome people. I love camp for that reason... the connections you make, the people you get to be with and the kids who are with you. It is taxing by the weeks end trying not to bite their heads off when they ask the millionth question of the day... but all in all a really good experience.
So now here I am weepy all the time, realizing that I am truly leaving. Leaving this place that has become my hometown. This place where I know someone on every block, know that most of the people here would give me the shirt off their backs if I needed it. I leave my loved ones, my family for the last two years, and I leave the place where little Dani finally grew up. Danielle leaves here a wiser and stronger person. I wasn't born here but I grew up here. I've never really had a hometown before. When asked where I grew up, I would always say "oh, lots of places in Texas." Now I have a different answer. Eagle Lake- and it tears a piece of my heart out to leave it. I know that this move is good, and look forward to the newness thats coming. My parents and my future await me in NY. My birthday is Friday... I realized that this year is one of the first that I haven't looked back and thought, by this time I thought I would be such-and-such, and so-and-so. I am not sure what that means, but I am glad for it. At camp I remember telling the CBF missionary that we Christians are bread crumb people. We never get the whole loaf, but just like Hansel and Gretel make our way home a crumb at a time. I like that. I can handle the crumbs...
My going away party is this Sunday... more than anything I want my people, my church, to know how much they mean to me. I continually thank God for that entire he has given me here... and in that know that he does have good for me elsewhere, too.
I have a garage sale this Saturday...if you think of it say a little organizational prayer for me. I can use it.

Now you're caught up!!

It's Done

It's Done. I turned the resignation letter in yesterday and it was good.
I prayed for peace and that my words would be tempered. That I would not say the perfect things, just what needed to be said. I was simple. It was simple.
I wasn't old enough to remember the times my Pop put in his resignation at our other churches, or maybe I wasn't actually present. But this last time I remember the hurt, and the dissapointment that the people I loved felt and I think in some way I was worried that it would be that way here.
Well as my Pop pointed out that was a whole different ballgame, Pastor for seven years vs. youth and children's for two. A whole different set of expectations and a whole different investment. And since he won't be reading this... He was right!
I will be missed, but God is in this and his people were gracious and loving to me last night.
Thanks to you all who prayed for me, and my people.

If you catch this

If you catch this please remember me and my church this week. I am turning in my resignation next Wednesday... It will be one of those weeks! I will be leaving them in under three months.
I love them and don't want them hurt, so pray that though they are sad, they see God's hand as he moves in my life. I'm sure they will, but remember us this week. And I will be sad too.

Nic's Dream...

Nic was hosting SNL. As funny as he is it's possible. He had just finished the opening monologue and the crew was getting ready for the first skit. It was taking place on an old-fashioned ice rink, the kind with bleechers for people to sit on. I came up to him and said, "You've had a hard time this week in practice, but I know you've got it now." He said he had NO idea what "it" was or even what the skit was about.
The next thing He knew He comes on camera and two girls are fighting on the edge of the ice. They are dressed like ice dancers and are pushing and yelling. "Ladies, there's no reason to fight," Nic says as he walks over to try and break them up. They both look at him like he had a mule growing out of his forehead. He repeated the line and then looked at me, the director. I was mouthing something that looked just like the line he had repeated twice. He figured I knew what was supposed to be going on. so he repeated the line again.
So I walk over and literally pull a plug from the wall, at which point the whole place goes dark and the crowd and other actors are gone. I say to Nic, "In the history of Saturday Night Live we have never, ever, never, ever had to cancel a broadcast. Now thanks to you this will be all over the news when people find out."
He woke up and his first thought was "Man, I'm glad that was a dream. My fans would have been so dissapointed."
This dream was posted with the permission of the dreamer. This was a dramatization of fictional events.
*Also note that I would never pull the plug on anyone, though I am flattered that I was an SNL director.
I laughed long and hard about this one! Thanks Nic.

Oh Absalom

The other day my pastor and I were discussing why we have bible study, specifically character studies. We have just completed the life of David, and are now embarking on the disciples. My assertion was that we need to know that there are people like Andrew among the twelve closest to Jesus, and that there existed this misguided son of David named Absalom. We need to find ourselves in each. We cannot only say “I am more like Andrew,” or “I am Peter” without saying “I am Absalom.”
Andrew brought people face to face with Christ. He followed the eternally cool John the Baptist, faithfully and sincerely. He followed to such a degree that when the true teacher was pointed out Andrew lost no time in following. This humble brother of the outspoken Peter was counted among the men that Christ chose as his posse. We need to find ourselves in this simplicity, and humility.
Peter… what more needs to be said? He was the outspoken disciple, who the Holy Spirit used to proclaim Christ as the Son of God. He was an overzealous man, whose love for Christ spurred him to action without thinking or listening first. We need to be deeply in love with Christ, finding ourselves the mouthpiece of the Spirit and allowing our actions to speak of that love.
We must also love the Absalom in ourselves. When I was younger, my Pop would take my long hair in his hands and shake it like reins on a horse, saying “Oh, Absalom.” I remember relating this to a lady in the church and she looking at me with a stricken expression. Possibly she thought that wasn’t a particularly nice thing for a father to say to his daughter? “Oh- You rebellious much loved child, who will eventually come to ruin by taking over a kingdom not your own and getting your hair stuck in a tree.” Maybe she has a point. But I think the real problem was even less complicated. Papa was identifying me with the villain, the bad guy.
She did not see in Absalom a young rebellious man, who was loved by many. She did not see the just intentions in his heart as he carried out his ill-conceived plan to avenge his sister. She did not see the love the father had for his son, nor could she undertand the seperation. A love so great that in the face of complete and utter rebellion, complete and utter rejection, David still asks for mercy for his son. She did not see herself in Absalom.
I do. I remember all the times my intentions were good and the actions a mess. I know when I separate myself from God my judgment turns destructive and self-gratifying. I can see myself hanging from my pride in a tree, exposing myself to painful consequences. I see myself the much loved daughter of parents close to the heart of God; parents who mourn for me in situations where my rebelliousness or pride makes life that much harder. I see me in Absalom and I see something redemptive in him.

Are there true bad guys in the Bible? Possibly... absolutely. But aren't we sometimes the bad guys, too?

"The king was shaken. He went up to the room over the gateway and wept. As he went, he said: "O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you— O Absalom, my son, my son!" 2 Samuel 18:33

Amazed

I was out of town catching up with a friend. Amazed was the buzz word that day in the Sunday service. As I sat in a church not my own, hearing a pastor not my own, worshipping, an understanding of the wonder I was witness to spread through me.
Wonder that being in church today was oh-so voluntary. That I chose to be here no paycheck, no obligation involved.
Wonder at the depth of love one person can have for another.
Wonder at the ease of friendship restored.
Wonder in the beauty of laughter and the freedom of fun.
All weekend I felt so blessed to be in the presence of this beloved friend. To talk together, just be with her and simply witness her life. That was wonder and amazement.
Her life is a gift. A gift in the living and healing. A gift in the friendship. And God allowed me to be a witness; to partake. She: Plucked up and out, into the hands of God. Held, as a rare and precious thing. And I: Allowed to stand close and see; Catch the reflection of His firelight and love as it dances through this precious woman.
The love of God- the wonder; the knowledge of that love- the amazement. I thank you! I rejoice in you! The God of life. The God of wonder. The God in smiles and tears. The God of the broken, the Healer. The God of my friend.

Good Friday

On this day you stand in the face of the cross and you do not look away. You cannot look away from the cross on which Love died. You cannot be a coward— you must look at it, experience it, as Christ did. You must confront the blood and the body, the cross. Together we do this.

We approach the cross as one and leave the cross as a brotherhood. I see Chris take the bread between his hands and lift it, an offering. He breaks it. Dawning shivers through me. Christ broken for you. He takes the cup, and the bread is soaked red. Christ’s blood poured out for you. Do this in remembrance of me. Eyes look to the cross; they see the suffering, the end.
We come forward to dip the body into the blood, to partake. An elderly woman comes forward to receive. She breaks off a piece of the bread and carries it dripping-red in her hands, to a church member unable to come forward. What beauty!

That is what we do, we who bear the name of Christ. We carry our Christ before us, with his blood dripping onto our hands, and say to our brother “take, eat and be filled.”

Conditioning

I have been with people, friends, family etc, every weekend pretty much continually for the last four or more weekends. It has been wonderful! But there is something negative that I had forgotten about when you are around people so much. You start to feel alone, when you are alone.
I know that sounds redundant. But I prior to this month of visitation I was a girl perfectly happy to go to the movies, dinner, shopping or what have you alone. And now I very nearly needed someone to accompany me on a shopping expedition this last Saturday. It was a close call... and even though I shopped alone, I must confess I met a girlfriend from work for dinner.
But it was Sunday, after church, when I realized that I had almost started to regress to a time when I had first moved to Eagle Lake. I remember that long journey conditioning myself to like the sound of my own silence. In fact before this last month I had come to rather enjoy my own company.
Sundays after church can be one of the lonliest times for a person. It is a time that for me is very connected to family and friends. All of my life you were supposed to be with people on Sundays. And most of the time I am.
But this past Sunday I found the silence of my little house empty. I had just decided to throw a big pity party for myself when I was reminded of something important. Something gounded in a reality I needed to come to grips with. I don't have to be with people to know I am loved. A large part of my new sense of being an adult comes from this realization and this sense of self-value where one can be loved in absentia... "Ahhh, zis is true" says the little German psychologist in my head.
You should know I am fine. Its just so odd, how you can regress so easily to need something that is honestly not even a real need. Just a comfort or conditioned response to being alone. We people, we're a funny lot.

Saturday Jeans

I have these jeans that I love... they have patches and are so fadded the cuffs are mostly white, the denim is soft and worn, the pocket is missing a snap... They are pretty much the perfect jeans. They are straight legged all the way down. We girls know that in the boot-cut, flar leg, stylized jean fashion extravaganza that is offered a good pair of straight-legged jeans are hard to find. They might be considered a little too long, but to me they are perfection... besides, of course, the old appearance. I wear these jeans on Saturdays, my off day. They say to me come on now get comfy, have a weekend. I love my Saturday jeans.

Waiting...

Long story short, I waited in an airport rental car agency for around 5 hours. It was one of those very 'me' situations and a hell of a long day. Early on in the evening I realized I would be stranded well into the night. I sit down to wait and have this overwhelming need to be rescued, immediately. Not rescued in five hours, not in three, but now. This need was so intense that tears welled in my eyes. I urgently wanted someone to save me from this situation. This need went against all my self-imposed constructs, all that I try to maintain.
I don’t ask for help. My reason’s span a spectrum from distrust and fear to basic pride. I cope. It’s what I do and generally, especially in a crisis, I keep a cool head. It’s only after the immediate threat is vanquished that I scream, yell or emote.
I trust my family, if it is within their power to help me they will. I trust God, I ask him for help all the time. God is there. He answers, listens or comes to me. Always, even if I am unaware or don’t ‘feel’ it. I trust in that. With other people, even friends, there is this fear. Fear that the answer to my request for help will be a portal into the way they value me. Am I a priority? Do I count? Would you make time to be there for me? Maybe, maybe not. To protect myself I unconsciously constructed these rules: Go to family first. Weigh all possible outcomes. Don’t ask for help when you aren’t sure of the outcome. Make sure that when you do ask, that the situation doesn’t sound as dire as it is. Don’t ask for help from people you know well. Even then "ASK" has a little red caution sign attached that reads "at your own risk."
When, for various reasons, I couldn’t find anyone to pick me up, my constructs did me no good. They fell away and to my horror I realized that they were actually hiding me not protecting me. I saw that I wanted something very basic. Something, in fact, very cliché. I wanted another person to see me as valuable. And here, in my time of vulnerability, disappointment and strandedness, I wanted that value to outrank obligations, commitments and distance.
Hours later I was picked up by a good friend of mine. The next day I kicked caution to the curb and went on my road trip anyway. On the way I re-examined my waiting experience. I admitted. I want what poets and Kings and farmers and wanderers have wanted for centuries. And it scares the hell out of me to admit it. But it frees me, too.

Hop as light...

Wednesday, April 19, 2006
I was tired tonight. I sat out in the backyard. I saw lightening bugs. I watched them dance in the grass and in low tree limbs. It made me think of A Midsummer Nights Dream...

Through the house give gathering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.

There is something quieting, something reassuring, in those dancing lights. They produce a lulling melody without notes.

Louder, louder please

DAMN IT! Damn it! Damn it!!

Sometimes saying it alone in my room isn't enough...this is better, but I wish it were louder.

no smile for you...

Since when is being polite code for "hey I want you to leer at me and call be baby!!!"
I was at the gas station buying a soda and I walk in front of this harmless looking man who bends down to get a bag of chips just as I cross in front of him. I almost run into him, stoping short cutting off his reach to the chips. I smile and politely say "sorry." He then leers at me and says [I kid you not] "No problem, baby" in this oily voice. I was so mad! I also felt a little violated.
I hate being called baby, no matter who does it. I can count on one hand how many times its happened, but it never sounds like an endearment. It either sounds belittleing or whiny. The other thing that made me mad was that I couldn't tell from just looking that this guy was one of "those" guys. The kind that leer, etc.
I'd really like men to have to wear t-shirts or badges that let you know exactly who they are. Something like: If you make eye contact, I will think you're into me. Or Hi I'm a nice guy, if your polite so am I. Or maybe even, I'm unavailable. Or If I were a cartoon I'd be a snake with some big gold bling hanging around my neck... I don't know... something.
This guy looked normal in work coveralls, so unsuspecting but he was a sleezoid. The rest of the day I felt like I wanted to walk around with my head down and not making eye contact for fear someone else would think I'm giving them an invitation to call me 'baby' making my skin crawl.
"Baby, baby, baby.... ugh!!"

Disclaimer: Sometimes I overreact to the mundane or the simply unimportant. I believe its called being obsessive ;>

Funny me...

Ok yesterday my friend Chris and I were talking birthdays. Mine is the next in line, and its July 21st. So I started thinking ok I will be twenty-six this year... "la dee da" I go merrily on my way. Then I see my age on my blog thingy and realize I will be twenty-seven this year!! Ok, I know its not really momentus, but its so funny, so very me.
I usually go ahead and say I'm the next age up after Christmas time. But this year I only thought I had done that... so now I'm all a muddle. Good thing I have a blog so I can keep track of how old I am!!
Well at least this year I don't feel like I'm going nowhere fast. In fact I feel twenty-seven and I like it... go figure. I just hope I can remember how old I am until July...

Another me scenario, after work on Wednesday I decide to drive to Columbus before church. I leave my mom a message and then put my cell phone on the seat next to me. On the way a gravel truck in front of me decides to turn and I put on the breaks (ok, I break hard, I was speeding). That's when my cell phone slides off the seat of the truck into a big glass of iced tea in my cup holder. I, of course, don't notice. I drive to Columbus and run my erands. Then I realize Mom hasn't called me back. That's when I find my phone bathing in my tea. I laugh very hard for a while, and remember that I can go get another phone in town. But wait! All my numbers are lost!! I am not the kind of girl who writes them down, I just enter them into my phone. Now I alternate between laughter and anger. So I head over to the CellONE office and redeem my free phone upgrade that I turned down two weeks ago via telemarketer. And reenter as many numbers as I can for the next couple of days...

A note for all you readers out there: When you make your phone list on your cell and save the number, you are not saving it to your SIM card, which is the harddrive of your phone. You are just saving to your phone's memory. You have to manually save each number to your SIM if you want to really save them, then your SIM can go to each new phone you have. Because even tea doesn't corrupt your SIM. Lesson learned!

gift-wrapped

God's gifts aren't always tied up with pink bows. Sometimes the strings aren't tied up at all. There are times in life when his gifts are unexpected. There are times when his gifts unfurl gradually like the opening of a bud.

There are days when you feel decisively odd or less than attractive, so you talk with God. You tell it like it is, and God that he is, he takes it right on the kisser- without need for apology. In turn he doesn't lay you out, as you so equally deserve, but instead gives you peace, contentment. Now this contentment comes only in waves, as the sea. You are not submerged in it. No, gently it rolls over you. Bathing you. Then you, of course being you, try to resurface and it rolls away. Out once more, only to come in again. A sea of contentment. A gift.

A dear friend allows herself to be the fragrance of peace and assurance. And through the rare rose of friendship you see that maybe there is nothing implacably wrong with you. Maybe you are not as odd as you thought. Maybe you are... just tall.

During a Lenten luncheon you sit next to an elderly lady you have never met. In the middle of the hymn sing she motions for you to lean near. She needs to tell you something. Taking you quite by surprise she whispers, "you are beautiful."

The gift's of God are complex and simple, big and small, instant and in progress. They are your journey, and they are your pain. These gifts are sweet, severe mercies. Gifts that leave scars and rejoicing. Whose remembrance is sweet, like the giver. These gifts call on us to say thanks be to God. To cry out: Thanks be to God. Because sometimes those are the only words the soul knows to say.

Jack

Jack is my (for lack of better term) god-nephew. I am known as Auntie Dani, which I love!
He is the most beautiful little boy, so sweet and funny- he get's the funny part from me, it has nothing to do with his parents.. ;>
Anyhoo... I was watching him the other night and he had a little fever, he was teething. So, he was fussy and needy.

SIDE NOTE: Most of the time he isn't a snuggler, you know. Some babies are... not this little man! He has never been one who liked to be held close, even as a newborn Jess would hold him and he'd sprawl out and want as much room as possible.

I hate it when he feels bad like this... really! But when he is sick, all he wants is to sit with his Dani and watch cartoons or Conan the Barbarian... (ok, he doesn't care what's on TV). But he just sits there, all cuddled close and its so bloody fabulous!! I mean it's like "could I love this little man anymore!" I'm glad you're better Jackie-boy but I miss the couch time!

Kind people...

Of late, I decided that there are not enough kind people in the world. So those that are kind should be told that they are. If I did not write to you or tell you this in person, please know that I thank all of those people who would do a kindness for others. Like picking a girl up when her car is making awful noises, or letting said girl talk your ear off about a dumb problem. So thanks to all of you who are kind. Do not stop!! But also be careful about giving rides to strangers... I mean that!

Dry Land

One weekend a couple of weeks ago God pulled me out of the water. For days I had been overwhelmed with my many commitments, was missing my family and facing my own disillusionment. Not to mention making small daily decisions concerning priority spending: purchase a new long distance plan vs. paying my exorbitant cell phone bill. Part of being over-committed is being busy. So busy you don’t have time to deal, until your pseudo day off rolls around. Pseudo because that day there is no set schedule, no people to meet with, just a to do list that weighs on you like Dickens. So you wake up and have nowhere to be and dissolve into an Olympic sized puddle of tears, with no end in sight.
Basic coping skills take over: call Mom and leave town.
Mom is the ever-present balm, talking with her puts the world aright. Next, leave town: get out, go to a movie, see a friend, and take a time out.
It takes a good friend to deal with you in your needy, I-cried-all-day state of mind. It’s this kind of friend who, though unaware you're treading water, offers conversation, laughter and chocolate milk. Even when they would normally already be asleep in front of the TV.
Yet the next day I still feel waterlogged. In Sunday School I play the hypocrite. I try to coax my kids into coming up with praises during prayer time. When I myself have to pause and take extensive inventory before coming up with the general (but true), thanks for family and friends.
Then everything changes. Sunday School becomes holy ground. Peter walked out on the water to be near his Christ and yes, he looked down and saw the choppy water, became afraid and started to sink. He doubted, he sunk; but that should not be the focus. We all sink! No shock there. The shock is that our Christ still reaches out his hand and pulls us up to stand with him on the turbulent waves. He says “o ye of little faith,” but he does not let go. He does not let go!
And in Church... the pastor becomes prophet and the message becomes more. A little known disciple leads you to a fig tree where God knows you and your purpose, great or small. And he knows all that you are and it’s enough. It’s enough, and you can see dry land.

drivel from the narcisistic paranoid psyche...

I have become one of 'those' people... and I can't even stop myself. You know the 'those' that I mean. One of those people who IM one message too many or who stay to talk ten minutes after her brilliance has worn off. Seriously, I see it all the time. Please, I am not looking for validation...really! Not this time anyway.
Its just that I can't stop. I don't know what it is? Honestly, I have been on the phone with people like me and I love them, but the peak in our conversation was ten minutes earlier and now the whole thing has become intolerably boreing. I hate that I am now 'that' person. That person for whom I set my online status to appear offline, when I'm really there. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about because I've seen most of you do it. I just hope you weren't doing it to avoid me...but since I am one of the 'those,' I can understand. I would avoid me in my needy long talking never ending...(well you get the picture) moments, too.