May 17, 2014 |
Last week on my personal Facebook profile, I changed my relationship from “single” to “it’s complicated”.
It’s Complicated.
No photos. No names. I’m not one to spill intimate details. I like to protect the privacy of the people who choose to expose themselves to a writer’s life ~ this writer’s life.The family I’m born into and gave birth to don’t have much say on the matter. But the ones who have a choice . . . those are the ones I admire. The ones who are strong enough to stick around when the word goes to print. The ones who don’t unfriend me on Facebook because they see the struggle between who I am and who I want to be, and the dichotomy between my very personal and sometimes public life.
Last week, my two worlds collided in a very unexpected manner. An old friend came to town. We went out. And then he said it. It. Those three little words that every woman loves to hear from the man she wants to want her in return.
Complicated? I’ll say so. There are many dynamics [read: hurdles] we would have to conquer to make a relationship work. Those are the private moments. But we’re talking. We’re sharing. We’re growing closer. That’s the public life.
He’s not perfect. [He had the nerve to ask “Why Toronto?” when discussing travel destinations.] He doesn’t drink coffee as much as I do. [That’s okay, I’ll have his share.] But he likes cats. He encourages my writing. And he’s taller than me. [Yes, mother, when I’m 5’8″, a man who can tower over me is a nice thing!]
I’m not perfect. I cry too much. I told him I hated him for holding my hand. I told him I was going to write every flaw and fight for dramatic content, of course. I drink his coffee and eat his chocolate. I order before he looks at the menu. But he likes me anyway.
It’s too soon to know if I’m blessed with this man or if we’ll end up hurting each other. I do know we’ve been friends for such a ridiculously long time it would be impossible to leave him completely. Right now, our complicated promise is only this:
Don’t Leave. Period.
The rest we’ll either figure out or we won’t. We’re not in a rush to make it work or find out it won’t. For This Girl, who thrives on stability and steadiness, this uncertainty is new. I’m used to being alone, solitary, not asking for help with decision making or planning someone else’s social schedule. This is familiarly new to me.
Is he a good catch? I think so. I’ve always thought so. Except for those in-between times when we’ve danced around each other’s lives with someone else. Except for those in-between years when we forgot we liked each other. After all this time, we are in the same place at the same time. And it’s complicated. Because it’s not.
It’s a little terrifying. A lot satisfying. And pretty much the reason I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week.
I want to make sure I’m not using him for his attentions. Let’s face it–who doesn’t love some nice “You look good” and “Have a chocolate” stuff. He deserves more than me just wanting his attentions. He deserves me wanting him completely, as he says, “warts and all”.
And so I’m praying. I’m praying for clarity and direction and all the things a person prays about in a relationship. I’m praying to be able to keep God first not just in this, but in every relationship. I desire God to be above all else in my household. I crave a man who is so in love with the Lord that he forgets I’m in the room.
It’s so complicated. I don’t want a guy to replace God as my Head of Household.
And in the quiet of the late night, when the rest of the world is gone and asleep and I’m left alone after hanging up the phone and My Complicated is far away, I hear God saying, “I’m still here.”
That folks, is what we in the writing world call “the hook” or “the cliffhanger”. Come back tomorrow for the rest of the story.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Apologetic
I’m Afraid of My Own Succcess
Mar 26, 2014 |
Thanksgiving Table
This is a photo of the first Thanksgiving dinner I ever hosted. It was my first “on my own” holiday. After not completing college and living at home until Dot was nearly four years old, it was time to move out.
It was tough. I was working full-time and being a single parent of a young child had its moments. I often felt like I was failing. The budget rarely balanced. The apartment wasn’t always clean.
But we had love.
Isn’t that what people say? “We may be poor, but we’re rich in love.” That was, and continues to be, true.
I wanted to show off my home skills. And since my brothers couldn’t make it to town for the Big Feast, I let Mom know I wanted to host it.
I didn’t know how I’d manage to afford all this food. I wasn’t sure my time management skills were up to the task. But I prayed. A lot. Alot-alot-alot. And through His blessings and the generosity of others, not to mention several found pennies (and then some!), this entire feast cost me only $0.76.
That’s not a typo. Mom provided two side dishes and dessert. I managed to barter, coupon shop, and was gifted nearly everything else.
But I wanted a candle. Hence the seventy-six cents.
I keep a copy of this photo on my refrigerator. Every time I go into my kitchen and wonder what I will eat, or what I’ll feed Dot, I see this photo. And I’m reminded that He feeds even the smallest sparrows. Sometimes I don’t feel like cooking. Sometimes I don’t think I have enough to cook. You know what? It doesn’t matter. We’ve never gone hungry.
The reason I’m writing this post in March instead of November, is because I recently turned from mourning to dancing. I began to write again. I began to pray differently. I began to trust again. I began to trust Him again. And I began to thank Him.
This past month I started to reorganize my writing. The To-Do’s, the location, the means, the ends. I have a game plan and outlines.
Can you imagine my surprise when I found the feast photo amidst my notes? Especially since the refrigerator copy is still on the refrigerator! How did this extra copy find its way from some unknown storage into the few papers that are held in my new desk drawer?
Writing Sanctuary
I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I vaguely remember having a second copy tucked into an unused older Bible. But that Bible has been boxed away for years.
And this photo reappeared just when I rediscovered my Writing Muse.
So there’s an intimidating sense of obligation to keep writing. A sense of, “Atta girl!” and “I’m pullin’ for ya!” A definite sense of “Yes, you can do it!” And a huge sense that I’m doing the right thing.
I don’t think Thanksgiving should be relegated to one day or even one month. Thanksgiving isn’t an event. It’s a way of life. It’s the chance to stand up and let the world know you’re glad to be alive.
And I’m definitely glad to be alive. Glad to have the life I have. Glad to be encouraged as a Mom. A daughter. A cook. A writer. And yes, a Christian.
Glad to know I’m not as alone as I sometimes feel.
There’s sense of security when you know your Daddy is there, taking care of you. You might not see Him behind you, but He’s there. You might not hear Him whispering to those around you, but He’s speaking through you. You might not even realize His presence. That’s okay. He’s still there.
And because He is, I am.
And I’m just so very thankful.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Apologetic
A Good Name
Dear God, Did You Forget About Me?!
“Be Not Afraid”. Yes, I’m talking to YOU.
Mar 25, 2014 |
Amazon is synonymous with sales, especially books. The great part is, Amazon makes it easy for authors of all sorts to share their stories. In particular, I’m in love with their Author’s Pages. A person can share as little or as much as they like, and link to their most important social media networks.
Publishing eBooks for Kindle download is just as easy. Once you have the finished draft, a quick upload is all it takes to get started.
You can check out my Amazon Author’s Page here. It contains all the aforementioned goodies, and more.
Now that I’m back in the swing of writing and blogging, I thought this would be a good time to promote my Kindle eBooks. You’ve read my posts as I started these writings, and you celebrated with me as I published.
It’s time to be rewarded for your cheerleading.
THE PENNY PARABLE will be free Wednesday and Thursday of this week.
The Penny Parable
A STUDY ON THE TEN COMMANDMENTS will be price-reduced as well.
A Study on the Ten Commandments
It’s my way of giving back and saying thanks. Thanks for reading, thanks for cheering.
Just . . . thanks.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
“Life is Rough. I’m still a diamond.”
2014: BETTER.
The Friday Five – STORIES
Feb 9, 2014 |
I’m single. Does that make February a hard month for me? Not at all. Being single doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I have a full time job that I absolutely love. I have family that lives nearby and an adult daughter who lives at home while navigating through her own busy albeit single life. We have our individual and collective social lives.
Don’t feel sorry for me, for us.
We’re not that lonely.
We play games together. I write. She bowls. We cook, clean, run errands together. We spend time apart. She bowls. I do coffee. We’re very busy.
So we’re not that lonely.
Mind you, I often think it would be nice to have someone taller and stronger around to handle things like cutting down the trees that are still standing or bagging up the endless piles of leaves they leave. Someone to pay the dinner bill once in a while. Someone to replace the light bulb. Carry the grocery bags. Someone to share life with. But I don’t go to bed alone and cry about it. I just don’t.
A few weeks ago, I found myself in a local store. Not finding what I needed, a worker offered to search storage for me. Sure enough, he returned with the goods. We chatted a bit. It was nice. He was nice.
A few days later and I returned to the store. We struck up another conversation. He was very easy to speak with. Attractive. And that second most important factor: age appropriate.
The conversation went well, but I had a nudging feeling. Something not quite right. I called him on it. He’d said he was divorced but his finger was shaped as if a ring had just been removed. Then he said he was living with someone.
I asked him why. I was curious why someone would be in a relationship and think it’s okay to ask someone else out. He said he’s with her “because it’s comfortable”. Because it’s a place to go home to. But that he really liked me.
I’m sorry. But I’m not that lonely.
I was a little discouraged, and yet encouraged. I can be just friends with him. I was upfront with him. I’m a Christian, I’m a single mom, and I don’t play games. The only thing he would get from me is conversation in the store. Not even a phone number? No, sir.
I have to admit, those first few non-dates were exciting. I liked the attention he gave me. The compliments. The conversation. In short periods of time we discussed faith, family, jobs and relationships. At first I thought he was on the verge of leaving her, and I thought I could wait. We talked of going out: Where would he take me? What would I wear?
It was new. It was nice.
And then I came home and looked at myself in the mirror.
~Molly Jo~
I am nobody’s Other Woman. I never have been, and I never will be.
And so to him, and to anyone else who wants to know me enough to date me, here it is:
You don’t get me.
In this household, I live by example. I show my daughter what’s acceptable and what’s not. I live out my ministry in my world by trying to be the person I want to be for others. And I don’t want anyone to think it’s okay to cheat. To cut corners. To not care about the ones you’re supposed to care about. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, sometimes, I do get bouts of loneliness. But these rewards are worth more than a fleeting dinner or a stolen kiss.
So you don’t get me.
In this household, we do deep. We do real. We do honest. And we do love.
Not the way you want it – not the fast, replacement, lonely-filler kind of love that you think you have to offer. Not the selfish its-all-about-my-needs-and-I’m-tired kind of love that you’re demonstrating.
We do love-your-neighbor love. We do get-in-the-trash-if-that’s-where-the-treasure-is love. We do the hard crying when words fail. We do the laughing so hard people think we’re crazy. We do the public hugs and the private conversations and the dinner at the table and the leave-me-alone times.
We do it all.
And you know nothing of that.
Because you’ve never asked. Because you saw a single woman and called her “beautiful” and expected me to open up to you.
You so don’t get me.
I’m so much more than a conversation in a store or a cross around my neck. I am complicated and sweet and smart and confident. I live for God and I live for other people. I love coffee and Italy and Disneyland and cats and everything there possibly is to love about life. And I love people who can’t love themselves. I share stories and I hold things in. I am oxymoronic every day. I am strong and secure and scared and shy all at once.
But I know who I am. I love me the way I am. I love sharing my life with people. I want to feed the world and save the homeless and cure cancer and shout everything from the highest mountain and be still under the stars.
I want much out of life. But I don’t want you. I don’t know you.
Except you’re willing to compromise. You’re willing to rush into something you have no business rushing into, and people will get hurt in your wake.
I will not be one of them. Nor will I be the cause for one of them.
So you don’t get me.
Because I’m not that lonely.
And all I can say now is, I hope someday, you’re not that lonely either.
I may be rough, but I’m still a diamond!
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Who I Am
Nail Polish: If You’re a Guy, You Just Don’t Get It
“As Long As You Love Me”
Dec 17, 2013 |
It’s been a month since I’ve posted. I’ve never gone this long before; and I apologize. I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten you. No, far from it. But I really have been Just.That.Busy.
I turned my focus to amplifying my Amazon Author’s Page as well as finishing The Penny Parable for eBook publication. I’ve been attending my monthly Writer’s Club meetings, and I’ve joined a critique group. Every other week, nine of us gather to review our works. We email them out a week before each meeting and go over notes and suggestions in the group. It’s quite a great experience, and if you are a serious writer I strongly suggest you find such a group.
Last weekend, the High Desert chapter of the California Writer’s Club was honored to hear Aura Imbarus speak. I was lucky enough to meet with her during the break. She is someone I want to know: She is inspirational, comical, truthful, adventurous, enduring and most of all, a writer.
Aura and MJ
Her story is captivating and thrilling. And she’s nice. She’s one of those people who make you feel you’ve been friends forever, even if you’ve just met. Her energy is just so positive! Yeah. I want to know her.
And yes, that’s me on crutches. I have no dramatic story to tell. I got into my car. I got out of my car. I couldn’t walk. Okay, it’s not quite that simple. But it is. You’ll remember I’ve been in ten car accidents and hit once as a pedestrian? Never my fault, honest. But still. A knee can only stand so much trauma before it starts to fail. And every once in a while, my knee likes to remind me. Which it did last week. Normally I can just ice it and kick back in the recliner for the weekend, but there was no way I was going to miss my Writer’s Club meeting and subsequent Christmas party. So I did the only logical thing. I hobbled into CVS and bought a pair of crutches!
You would think with my prior injury history I’d have a pair around here somewhere. Well I did for a while. But then I got cocky and figured I wouldn’t need them again, so out they went. That’ll teach me.
As each day passes, I find myself wanting more. More time. More energy. More money to do/fix/buy/go. My wish list is getting greater, yet simpler. I want to be a writer. A well accepted, published, known, respected author. I want to have a beautiful yard. A healthy, colorful, desert-enduring yard. I want to fix my house. Bedford Manor is lovely, but in need of some repairs. I want better health for me and those around me. Too many people are suffering with so much. My heart aches every day to see it.
I’m not sure what the New Year will bring. But I already have my word picked out, and I can’t wait to share it with you!
Just today a dear friend reminded me that whatever comes, whether it’s in my plans or not, it’s going to be okay. All I can do, is all I can do. She reminded me to hold firm to what I already know, which is my Faith. It was one of those Kismet things, thrown in my face from many angles. I was reminded of what I have often reminded others. That God is in control and it’s okay that I’m not. As long as I still have Faith, Hope, and Love.
Jeremiah 29:11
And someone else gave me this tidbit of wisdom a week or so ago. I asked if I could share it, and he said yes. So here’s a great thought to get you through those times that we’re all going through:
Sitting Around
And it hurts. And it feels like failure. And it doesn’t work.
So I try again. To make ends meet. To write something blockbustery. To breathe.
And it still hurts. And it looks like failure. And it doesn’t always work.
But sometimes it does.
So I keep moving. And working. And writing. And breathing.
And living.
And smiling.
Because I’m alive. And breathing. And working. And writing. And feeling.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
More or Less: 29 Words
What’s Your Writing Style? Creatively Overcoming Writer’s Block
Why I Write. Every Day.
Doing Something. Good.
Poverty: My Story
TGIF
