Fear

In 3 days, I will be walking a half marathon. I intended to run it but my back dictates otherwise. The closer it gets the more I dread it. I believe I can physically do the distance but still something inside of me is fearful of this big thing out there.

One year ago, I started running with the goal of doing a 5K by my birthday. I had never run a mile in my life. In May, I did that. The next month, I signed up for the half marathon. 5 months ago this seemed like a great idea, a challenge. A really big challenge!

I have spent a large portion of my life staying in my comfort zone, which is familiar and produces the least amount of anxiety possible. Many days this means literally staying inside my house. I am afraid to move out of my comfort zone. I want to but it is the unknown, the unfamiliar,the risky, that keeps me from stepping out of these walls. When I signed up for the race, I was feeling brave and now I am just not so sure.

I ended up in physical therapy after hurting my back. One day a new therapist filled in for my regular PT and she basically called me a fool for doing this race. I was furious but probably underneath that anger I feared that she was right.

Maybe I am a fool for doing this but there are worse things I suppose. Like staying locked up by my fears. I am trying to go on Sunday with the attitude of enjoying the race. There are bands every mile. And cheerleaders! What a hoot! I am praying that I will go have fun, finish and laugh at the end. Celebrate! Mike is coming to cheer me on.

In the big scheme of life, this race is a very small thing I know. Somedays it feels like the world is swirling out of control and I feel silly for worrying about this run but I still do. I want to do it yet not just get it done. I want to experience the whole thing and enjoy the fun parts and just let go of the anxious ones.

Dr Mom

Over the 26 years I have been a mom, I have gotten somewhat of an education of odd, random medical terms. One of the first I remember was an axillary temperature. I had no idea that you could do that. I was laying in bed the other night thinking though a long list of words that I know now - medical words or developmental words. Some sound big, but aren't. Like Juvenile Xantho Granuloma. How about Twin to Twin Tranfsusion Syndrome? That was a scary one. That nearly killed one of our twins.

Proprioceptor
Pulmonary Valve Stenosis
Sensory Integration Disorder
Valvoplasty
Nephrologists
Wry Neck
Auditory Processing Disorder
Transverse Presentation
Accutane and its scary side effects
FLK
Convulsions
Glioma
Astrocytoma
Hematoma
W Sitting

On top of all these illnesses, there is also the normal vomiting, diarrhea, croup, asthma, chicken pox, etc... I have done all that too. All of these words have happened to my kids. All have happened to me too. When your kid has a sickness, you have it too. You feel pain and fear and recovery. Differently than they do, but you still feel it. You sit and wait with them. You worry and pray, hoping for the best. Wonder what will be the long term effects. In these situations, being a mom is draining at best. I remember sitting in the waiting room waiting for Luke to come out of surgery when he was 18 months old. The doctor come out and said he was fine.. that it went well. And I fell apart. Tension had held me together all day.

They don't tell you what you sign up for at the beginning. It is all decorating, picking out names, shopping and dreaming. All of that is great too. But this part is hard work.

Resistance

I have not bloggged in quite a while. I am fighting with myself over expressing my words. So I usually give up. I even posted one day and a few minutes later I took it down. I'm not exactly sure why it feels so hard right now. I am fighting through some resistance on something else I want to do with a small amount of success.

The post I took down had to do with a dream I had. On November 20th, I dreamed that I saw Jesus standing in front of me. He is holding an infant in His arms. It is my baby. And I walk up to Him and say, " Give me back my baby!" - Not in the kind of voice you would expect to use when talking to Jesus, not yelling but demanding. I don't remember anything else about the dream but that part was very clear.

The next day, November 21, my daughter is having a cat scan on her head. Late that afternoon, I am in HEB buying groceries. My son in law calls and tells me that the cat scan showed something. They are going for an MRI right then. Something is wrong. Terror and fear attack me in the store. I am crying and trying to get out of the store but I need the groceries. So I manage to get into the line and while I am waiting to check out, I remember the dream. Clear as a bell, it is there. Me telling Jesus to give my baby back. Not asking him to hold her. Not enjoying her together. What does this mean? Maybe it is random thoughts running through my brain but I don't think so. The timing is too significant.

I now know she has a brain tumor. And I am trying to rest in the fact that she is in His arms. She always has been and always will be.

addicted

For the first year we were married, my husband was a fireman. He was gone 1 out of every 3 nights. Then he got a job where he was gone a lot more than that. We had a 3-4 year break from traveling next. But that was 15 years ago. He had been traveling again up until about a year and a half ago. Suddenly they changed his job and he is almost always home. And I am addicted to his presence.

Last night he had to go to Houston. And I cannot sleep without him any more. I do not even get sleepy. On a normal night, I am fading fast at 10pm and out by 11. Last night I was wide awake at 1:30 am. So I gave in and crawled on his side of the bed and tried to smell his pillow and pretend he was there. Even if he is making me crazy or we are angry at each other, I need him there. And I probably fell asleep about 2:30am.

So I am addicted to the man and it is a good thing. One flesh.

Calcification

I am re-reading Metamorpha by Kyle Strobel. It is my third attempt to get through this book. There is so much meat in it that I haven't gotten finished with it yet. Once again I am struck deeply by something on page 20.

Sometimes we need a new way of seeing.

Cassie had an experience similar to mine She recalls the struggle she had in seminary when she was re-introduced to God: "I remember crying silently in the back row in several classes as I watched in horror the God that I knew and loved being smashed to pieces as professors unwittingly dismantled my view of God, blow after painful blow." A professor who understood and related to Cassie's experience offered a story he thought might help her. In Cassie's own words:

I will never forget the moment Professor Anderson captured this experience with a story that eased my pain. He told his systematic theology class about a woman who, in her later years of life, decided to begin playing piano. She searched for the best piano teacher she could possibly find ans asked him how she could become a master pianist such as himself. He looked hesitantly at her, asking if she was sure she warned to do this. He explained to her that at her age, the woman's bones had naturally calcified and were configured in a certain way. To play the piano, she would need to engage in finger exercises that would break this calcium down, thereby, giving her supple, flexible fingers that would allow her to extend to various keys. He warned her that the finger exercises and the calcium breakdown would be excruciatingly painful, as if her fingers were being smashed.

Cassie soon realized that her spiritual calcification was being broken down. Because of her presuppositions, Cassie needed not only to learn about God but also to unlearn what she falsely believed about God. Cassie believed she could just tack on new information about God to what she already had. Unfortunately, what we erroneously believe about God is often solidified and unyielding, so it is painful to break down.

It feels like I am going through a decalcification process too. Sitting in church each week feels painful sometimes and I try to decipher truth apart from my presuppositions. Or perhaps on top of them. A couple of friends visited our new church a couple of weeks ago and I felt defensive about what the pastor said, hoping they would like him too, hoping I wasn't in the wrong place. Their approval meant way too much to me. God has come out of the box that I have had him in and He feels so big and incomprehensible. This box was defined and rigid and clear. Not it just feels wild and untamed.

Anger

It must be the topic of the week - anger. So I decided to jump in too. I got mad.... no, furious at a friend this week. He was talking to my husband in our garage. He was talking about a subject I despise, his latest end of the world scenario. I asked him not to do it in front of me. I was strong in telling him that. I could have just gone upstairs and hidden while he was here but instead I stood up for myself and asked him not to. And he ignored me! I put up a barrier of protection for myself and he crashed through it to tell me more. His arrogance floored me. In my house, he treated me like a child - an ignorant child who needed to be scolded and told what was what.

I stood there and listened until I could get away. The fear he stirred up in me is not healthy. But it is biblical, according to him. He made me feel stupid and small. But the truth is he was being an arrogant jerk. And he wonders why people don't listen to him.

I remember feeling this angry a few times when I was a teenager. Once a boss talked to me like this. I was so mad that the top of my scalp tingled.

"In your anger do not sin:"
"for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires"

I believe my friend acts this way because he is an angry man. I am the child of an angry man. I don't know what to do with angry men, but I am trying to feel what I feel and not sin. I want to be what God desires but it is such a hard place.

Underdogs

Today, Texas Tech plays UT. AT our house, we will be cheering madly for the Red Raiders. I hate UT and always have. I was thinking about why. Here is my theory. I went to a junior high that usually got beaten by the Evans Eagles. Because I was in the band,I went to all the football games so I sat through a lot of bad games. When you have to go to games, in rain, in snow, and unbearable heat, you feel invested in them. Again, in high school, my school was the Mustangs and they were terrible at football. Our arch rivals were the Plainsmen and they always won. They were arrogant and I hated that. After they would beat us, the whole crowd from their side would sing, "The Old Gray Mare, She Ain't What She Used to Be" to us. Moving on to college, I went to Texas Tech and they sucked back then. Week after week, we would sit and cheer for the underdog. And lose. On the rare occasion that we would beat somebody big, it was euphoric. Insane happiness over a stupid football game. So I hate Texas because they represent years of getting stomped by the big guys in town. And I always love the Cinderella team.

Anyway, there is a more important point to all this and I am getting there. Inside me, my emotions fight against my physical strength. They battle constantly and although emotions sometimes score a few points, generally they get their butts kicked. My emotions are the Cinderella team. They have been told for years that the are weak, ugly and useless. "Use your strength, don't cry like a baby." I have believed for so long that I don't need them. I just need to be a big girl and get the job done.

Today, emotions showed up not as "Cinder" ella, all dirty and beaten down. Today "Ella" showed up, in a beautiful dress, updo and high heels. And emotions gently and softly, tore through the wall that I had built around her for so long. She trumped the physical part of me with her beauty and kindness and tears. And Prince Charming said that he saw my soul. It was euphoric and insane happiness over the battle for the grounds of my heart.