Oct 11, 2012 |
I’m not gonna sugarcoat this: Life is hard. I mean, it’s hard. And it’s easy to slip into the “I have it harder than you do” mentality. Trust me. Been there, done that.
It’s not much of a surprise that I’ve been pretty bitter about Life’s Lemons. Long-term unemployment. Chronic injuries. Financial fiascoes. Throw in the struggles of family and friends, and my heart is heavy with the weight of the world.
When we were young, my older brother was a wise-cracking, joke-telling genius. One of his favorites (that for some reason I played along with every time, even though I knew the ending) was when he’d say, “I can teach you a foreign language. Repeat after me.”
“Owah. Ta-jer. Kay-yam.”
Now. You say it. Out loud. Fast. Faster.
Get it now?
Here. Let me change the spelling a little bit for you:
“O-wha-tajer-kiam.”
One more time. A little more clearly.
“OH, WHAT A JERK I AM.”
Yup. That’s it. And that’s me.
I’m the Queen of the Party. The Pity Party, that is. I can feel sorry for myself quicker than you can nod your head. And it comes oh-so-naturally, I don’t even know I’m doing it.
Maybe it’s because I’ve always been more sensitive than others. Maybe it’s because I feel things deeper and harder and stronger and longer than others. Maybe I overthink or underthink or just don’t think at all.
Maybe it’s just me.
I haven’t been sleeping well for a few nights. The worries float around keeping my eyes busy with visions of things yet to come. Noise isn’t a distraction, and silence isn’t soothing. I just can’t seem to sleep very well.
So by the time I was functioning this morning, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t sick, I wasn’t angry, there wasn’t anything wrong. I was just tired. Just tired. Nothing else. And when I took the other non-possibilities out of the equation, the day seemed easier to manage.
I could drive, go to the grocery store, balance the checkbook, make dinner, clean house… all those things I didn’t want to do but should do. I did them. Because being tired isn’t an excuse to not take care of business. I wouldn’t call in sick to work just because I was tired. And right now, home is my work. And I’m the boss. I did not give myself a sick day.
And for that, I’m thankful. I’m really thankful. And I want it to show.
I still have my house. I still have my car. Dot is a full-time college student. I have family and friends. We have our health. And we have food in the house.
With all of these blessings, it struck me that I was still asking God for more than I was thanking Him for.
How’s that for gratitude?
Do I really trust Him to provide for me if I’m whining about not having milk for one day? We were able to put a full tank of gas in the car yesterday. I’m thankful we could afford it. When I ask God to give us our Daily Bread, is it honoring to Him for me to wish for more than what’s on the table? Instead of complaining that cleaning out the fridge is not our favorite meal, I’ve become extremely thankful that we have food in the fridge to begin with.
God is doing a most wonderful job of taking care of us. In ways I’m not even aware of; in ways I’ll probably never know.
I woke up this morning. In my own home with my family around me.
I’d say I’m pretty blessed.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
“Give Us This Day…”
The Adventures of Will Power and the Basket of Blessings
My Thanksgiving List
Sep 26, 2012 |
Dear Amy,
You don’t know me, but from what I’ve heard in the past two weeks, we would be good friends. I’m a childhood friend of your brother-in-law, Dan.
It was just over two weeks ago that I heard from a friend that his brother passed away.
No. That’s not right.
It was just over two weeks ago that I heard your husband was shot and killed in the line of duty.
Since then, I’ve cried. I’ve prayed. And I’ve paid attention. I’ve wondered what it must be like to be you: a mom with four young children, left alone. Dan has shared your strength and faith with me and with many. And I see that while you are now without your husband, you are definitely not alone.
The Community has really reached out to help you. And it inspires me. It’s what a Community is supposed to do.
I pray for you and your kids every day. I hope you don’t feel terribly alone. I pray that God’s arms are supporting, comforting, and protecting you.
I wish I could be there with you. I wish I could get to know you and your kids. I’ve heard stories of how strong and wonderful and considerate you all are.
We’ve suffered some losses in our lives, but I don’t equate those with your loss. Ours was outside the immediate family. And even though I have an inkling of your pain, it can’t compare to what you’re really going through.
I want to say, I’m sorry. I’m sorry there are people in the world who have no hope. Who feel they have no support and no reason to live. I’m sorry they feel the need to take out their anger, depression and frustrations on those around them. I’m sorry the world is so confused, and your husband had to pay the ultimate price.
But I’m so thankful your husband paid the price. I’m so thankful to know that there was someone out there willing to put his life on the line no matter what. Willing to help others before himself. And willing to share his faith with all who would listen.
Your husband is no longer physically here, but his legacy is. And I’ve been so touched by reading stories on his Facebook page, and reading your own postings.
You, Patrick, and your children are so very inspirational. I’m so sorry it took his loss for so many in the world to see that, including me.
But I want to thank you for the encouragement you have personally given me. You don’t even know me but you have encouraged me to keep going. To not give up. To not be selfish. To love. To forgive. To move on.
No. Matter. What.
You are a remarkable woman. And we would be great friends, I just know it.
So if you’re ever in my neck of the woods desert, I’d love to offer you a great cup of coffee and get to know you better.
Until then, I’m just so sorry for your loss, and wish there was so much more I could do.
With love, hugs, and many prayers,
Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
To donate to the Patrick O’Rourke Family Trust, just click here:
This post is linked up with Pour Your Heart Out at Things I Can’t Say.
Dec 21, 2011 |
I just watched “The Nativity Story” on dvd. I’d borrowed it from my friend Julie nearly a year ago but never watched it until today. And I admit, I cried.
Just earlier today I realized there’s only five days til Christmas and I had yet to feel that Christmas feeling. That certain feeling of peace and joy that I get regardless of what’s going on in the world around me. That certain feeling that everything’s alright, even now. That certain, indescribable, feeling.
And I can finally say, while watching this movie, I found that feeling. It’s not about how many gifts we have or don’t have under the tree. It’s not about what foods we’ll eat this weekend. It’s not even about making it to Church on Christmas Eve with the family or visiting with friends through the week.
It’s just about… well, it’s about being still. And being at peace with whatever comes.
I adore this movie for how it portrays Mary and Joseph in their marriage. They’re in it together. He didn’t just hang on the sidelines while Mary and God did all the work. Joseph fought for her, protected her, cared for her. Accepted her completely. And gave his name to her baby.
Mary didn’t just follow him. She respected him. She got to know Joseph as a person, as her husband. She let him share in her pregnancy and didn’t shut him out. She needed him. She loved him.
Now, there are some Christmas stories that are so ingrained in my upbringing that even though I “know” them, sometimes to think about them takes me by surprise. And this movie did just that. I found myself realizing things I hadn’t considered before; things that made me stand more in awe of God and His power; and of Mary and Joseph, individually and together.
Mary could have, should have, been stoned to death for conceiving before her marriage ceremony. Joseph was willing to quietly walk away so that wouldn’t happen. After all, his reputation was on the line. Here he was, a Good Guy, and his betrothed is already pregnant! Mary didn’t have to return to Joseph. She could have stayed far away with her cousin Elizabeth. But that would have meant breaking her promises. And Mary was a Good Girl. So she returned.
After the Holy Spirit refreshed and instructed him, Joseph took Mary to be counted in the census at Bethlehem. And that’s when my thinking really started.
At the age of sixteen, this young woman is pulled from her family, from her mother and father. She is on a difficult trip with a man she hardly knows. And she’s pregnant. Who does she turn to? What does Joseph see in her? Did she cry herself to sleep out of fear and loneliness? Did she trust God completely and not worry at all? Or was it a little bit of both?
What went through Joseph’s mind? Did he know he’d be a good dad, because God Himself chose him for the part? Or was he worried? How did he comfort Mary, his wife yet a stranger, as she gave birth otherwise alone in a manger? Did he feel helpless and alone too?
At what point did Mary and Joseph stop being strangers in each others’ minds; and think of each other as husband-and-wife not in title, but in love?
When Jesus was born, how often did they cradle him and wish it could be different? That they could stop the world from invading their family, stop the evil that required the life of their son? And when the Lord’s Angel sent them to flee into Egypt, what did that do to their plans to return home to see Mary’s family again?
Did Mary ever wish it hadn’t been so, or did she always just say, “I am the Lord’s servant.”?
Here they are, parents to the Greatest Person Who Ever Lived, and they run in the dark, they flee into hiding. Their hearts are always burdened, always broken. Being the parents of the King is not always a joyous position.
But they did it.
No matter what.
They did it. They assumed their responsibilities. And they didn’t let God down.
I’m sure it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t fun.
But it was worth it.
It had to be.
They were parents of The King.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 30, 2011 |
Well it’s been a few weeks. I had to change a few things up around here!
First, if you go to my actual blog (not read this in an email), you’ll see that I changed my background for the season. Happy Holidays!
Second, I started using my new ZipList software for my recipes. I really like the formatting. Of course, I’m brand new at it, so I’m sure after I learn some more tricks and tips, it will become even better. Look for some, if not all, of my recipes to be reformatted and reposted in the month of December.
Thanksgiving’s behind us, but never stop giving thanks. The last week has certainly been out of sync with my love for stability, but I also love surprises… well, good ones anyway.
By the time you read this, I’ll prob’ly be in the middle of a big winter storm. The kind of storm that So Cal doesn’t usually get; and certainly not this early in the season. I’m thankful for the touch of midwest winters that I still miss, thankful for a full pantry, thankful for the warmth of cookies baking in the oven and a log on the fire.
With the not-so-good surprises and life-as-we-know-it moments, I kept thinking about my blogfriend Andrea and her daily posts about seeking peace in the midst of a busy life. I don’t think she knows how much she really inspires me. Lately, when I find myself about to over-react, I’m reminded of her posts and they touch me, sooth me, calm me. God works… even through the blog words of a stranger. [She’ll inspire you, too. Check out her blog, Quiet Mom-ents, here.]
Life is always going to throw us curveballs. What matters is that we take the swing… but only when we’re supposed to. Striking out too early is just as bad as being stranded at the plate.
So my goal for December is to not only embrace change, but actually instigate it. I know. Me. ME. A creature of habit, a lover of stability. I figure what the heck. I only have one life. Why get it stuck in a rut?
So. Bring on the storm. I’m ready… I think…
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
