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In the Desert

I'm reading this book.

I could probably start 99.9999 (repeating)% of my blog posts with that sentence.  :o)

Anyway, it is called In the Sanctuary of Women: A Companion for Reflection and Prayer by Jan L. Richardson.

It is a good read, but it's not a "knock it off in an afternoon" kind of book.  It's one of those where I read a few pages, and then go back and read them again.  It's full of green highlighter and lots of notes in the margins.

It's a combination of history, theological reflection, and storytelling.  And peppered throughout the book are Ms. Richardson's poems and prayers.

Maybe that's what makes it hard to read.  The poetry.

I'm a prose kind of girl.

Unless it's Dr. Seuss or Shel Silverstein, most poetry is over my head.

But I came across this one when I was reading yesterday.  As I read, I thought, "This woman has a hidden camera trained on my life."

Because this is exactly how I feel these days.


Dreaming in the Desert

It must be at least
eighty degrees already this morning.
Spring has barely begun,
which bodes ill
for the summer to come.
I can already feel my energy leaking out into the heat;
air conditioning barely stems
the lethargy that steals in and
pins me to my bed
most of the morning,
lulls me into reading
the next page of a book,
and the next
and the next
as I linger over breakfast
and then,
shortly after,
lunch.

I have read the desert mothers
and fathers
and so I know this is what
they called acedia:
weariness, listlessness,
lack of care.

Abba Evagrius called it
the noonday demon.

Amma Synclectica said
it was a sprit that must be cast out
mainly with prayer and psalmody.

And so I keep to my psalms
morning and night,
a thread in the fabric
of my fluid days,
though it will feel,
as summer oozes forward,
more and more like trying to stitch water together.

What would they have done,
I wonder,
thosoe ammas and abbas
blazing in the desert,
if they had known of
mint juleps and
wraparound porches,
ice cream and
swimming pools?

What would they have made
of ceiling fans
while cool jazz plays,
of Southern tea,
of chocolate shakes?

If the desert folk
had dreamed these things,
as I do
in these draining days,
would they
have uttered exorcisms,
chanted prayers for deliverance,

or
with the wisdom burned into them
by sun and desert sand,
would they have
for a moment
licked their lips,
closed their eyes,
and breathed
on low and longing
sigh?


Blessing

In the desert,
in the draining days
as wearying nights,
may delight find its way to you.

Happy Birthday

Dear Amazing Oldest Daughter,

I cannot believe it.  Today we celebrated your seventeenth birthday.  Seventeen!  In 365 short days, you will begin your road through adulthood.  And on this, your last "childhood" birthday, I've thought many times about that day--so long and so short--ago.  And where we are today.

In no particular order--

Seventeen years ago, I was finishing my last semester of college.  Today, I watch the college mail pile up on your desk and I listen to you as you share your college plans with people.  I can hear the excitement in your voice as you talk about it.

Seventeen years ago, I was sucking ice chips and panting through contractions  Today, we sipped lattes, sung to the radio, laughed, and had fun with friends.

Seventeen years ago, everyone in the hospital immediately commented on your amazing eyes.  Today people are still taken with your beautiful kaleidoscope eyes.


Seventeen years ago, your length was measured three times to make sure 24 1/4 inches was indeed correct.  I knew it was--I'd felt your feet under my ribs for three months!  Today, I know that you were using those beautiful dancing feet of yours even in utero.

Seventeen years ago, family and dear friends were anxiously awaiting your long overdue arrival.  Today, these same people who sat for hours in the waiting room so they could be among the first people to welcome you to Earth are among your biggest fans and your most ardent supporters.

Seventeen years ago, I had no idea what I was doing when they handed you to me.  I had never been a mother before.  Today, I still have no idea what I'm doing.  I'm a first-time mom with everything you do.  And you have been amazingly understanding about it.

Seventeen years ago, I held you in my arms and I was sure it would be an eternity before you'd even be old enough to go to kindergarten.  Today, I wonder how time got away from me and how on earth you grew up so fast and if I could have done something to slow it down some.

Seventeen years ago, I was awed by the tiny person you were.  I wondered what your life would be like...the kind of personality you'd have, what your talents and gifts would be.  Today, I am still constantly amazed by the child you were, the young lady you are, and the woman you are becoming.  And I know it isn't always easy.  Hang in there.

Seventeen years ago, you and I went through quite a physical ordeal to bring us to the place where you call me "mother" and I call you "daughter."  Today,  we navigate through the end of your teenage years to bring us to a place where hopefully, we will call each other "friend."

Seventeen years ago, a nurse placed you in my arms for the first time.  I looked at you and I remember thinking, I have never in my life seen anyone so beautiful  And I have never in my life been so completely in love like this.  Tonight, as I gave you one last hug and told you "happy birthday" one last time, I thought: I have never in my life seen anyone so beautiful.  And I have never in my life been so completely in love like this.


Happy, happy seventeenth, my dear!  And here's to the next three hundred sixty five days!

Love,
Mom

Do You Like Green Eggs and Ham?

Not so much, Sam-I-Am.

Happy Dr. Seuss Day!!

Apology Letter

Dear Wonderful Dance Teachers,

Words cannot express how sorry I am that tornadoes were spotted in your area at the same time my ten-year-old daughter was taking class at you studio.

I apologize that I failed to warn you of her lilapsophobia.  But in my defense, I didn't think it was something I needed to bring up yet.  It's the end of February.  For. The. Love.

I can only imagine the freak-out that ensued from my child as other parents came to pick up their children, you stopped class, and planned to trek across the alley to the fire station to hunker down in the nearest tornado shelter.

I am, however, very grateful that my older daughter was there as well to keep the kid from going completely crazy.

Thank you for letting her call home.  I'm glad her dad arrived when he did and you didn't have to drug her and sling her over your shoulder try to calmly get her to the fire station by yourselves.

Because forewarned is forearmed, I do feel that I need to prepare you for next Tuesday.

You will hear "I'm scared" and "I'm worried there's going to be a tornado," more times than you ever thought possible in a two and a half hour time period.

You are welcome to tell her that she may only ask you if you think there will be a tornado before and after class.

If I were you, I would answer "No, I'm sorry, I don't, Sweetie" when she asks if you have a weather.com app on your smartphone.

And no, she may not check weather.com on her iTouch during your class.

And if all else fails, my cell phone number is at the front desk.

Best of luck to you~

Casey

I've Seen Hell. And Folks, It Ain't Pretty.

I've been reading a few books about hell lately.  I'm sure my therapist (if I had one) would have a heyday with that statement, but anyway.

And I'm pretty sure that the reason Jesus used the description of the town's refuse burning  surrounded by wild vicious dogs was because that was the best analogy He had at the time to explain to the 1st century Israelites what hadn't even been invented yet.

Rows of exercise equipment at the local YMCA.

I am convinced that hell is neither a lake of fire, or freezing cold, or just being alone all by yourself.

It's pedaling on an elliptical machine.

Where the "time remaining" says "eternity" and the "elapsed time" always says "0:00."  Where there is one green column about three rows in lit up that NEVER moves.  Where you burn no calories, accumulate no miles, and never increase or decrease your stride rate.

How did I come by this "epiphany," you ask?

Well, I'm planning to run a half-marathon in April.  And somewhere along the way, the back of my right leg got mad at me and decided that if I was stupid enough to run with it, it was stupid enough to give me the business the entire time.  So I stopped running and made an appointment with my voo-doo chiropractor in Wichita--who couldn't see me for a week.

Well, the problem is, if I want a prayer of finishing this race at all, I have to log miles.  I can't take a week off.  So my option is the elliptical machine, which my leg will do for seven miles without a single complaint.  Which is at the YMCA.

Now, I love to run.  But I hate stationary exercise equipment of any kind.  It makes me want to jump out of my skin.  So I will layer up and run in snow, rain, 22 degree weather, wind, whatever to avoid a treadmill.

I can't stand the visual distractions of the TV--the three different channels going at once.  I can't stand the lights and numbers on the readout that mock me the entire time with how little I've done and how far I have to go.  So I play games with myself.  I tell myself that I won't look at the screen until I've gone through three songs on my playlist.

So I look around.  And I notice the disgusting brown spot on the carpet and try not to think about why it's there or how it got there.  I notice the man sweating profusely on the machine next to mine and pray that the machines are placed far enough apart and the fans are blowing at optimum angle and speed to keep his sweat from hitting me.  Because if it does, I will vomit.  I'm a (wee bit) competitive, so I'm also straining my neck muscles trying to see how fast and how far the twig on the treadmill a few machines away is going.  I wonder if I could take her. I make a colossal mistake and look in the mirror.  So now it's back to the TV.

Ellen is on, and she's interviewing Amanda Seyfried.  From what I can tell, Amanda has knitted Ellen a hat.  Ellen asked Amanda when she has time to knit, and Amanda tells her, "When I'm on the elliptical machine."

Are. You. Kidding. Me???

I can't take a drink of water on the thing without feeling like I'm going to fall off, or choke, or both.

Three songs are finally done.  I can look at the screen.  It's telling me to "pedal forward."  Shoot!  In my efforts to try to avoid "readout insanity,"  I completely missed the instruction to "pedal backward."  I'm sure that I've completely ruined my workout now.  There won't be any positive benefit at all.  I should've just stayed home, read a good book, and eaten mint M&Ms.

And I look at the "time left" display.  It reads "Eternity...

Lenten Litany

The wonderful thing about it being 190 days since my last blog entry is that there is an amazingly good chance no one even reads this anymore.

 Which gives me a "no holes barred" freedom to post whatever I want without worrying about not being witty enough, or entertaining enough, or offending too much. Excellent!

 Lots of things have happened in the last 190 days, and I've meant to post here and there. I've even logged in, started new posts, and stared at the blank screen, only to close it in frustration and let yet another day go by posting...nothing.

 But I miss it. I miss getting my thoughts out of my crazy head. And I miss having this "semi-up-to-date" so I can go back and see a record of our life.

So I'm just going to dive in and begin again. For my sanity.

 The Season of Lent begins tomorrow.

 And even though the Season of Lent is about sacrifice, I've always enjoyed it. I love Ash Wednesday Mass. I am old enough to remember tomato soup and grilled cheese or fish being served for lunch on Fridays during Lent, even though I went to public school. I love. Love. LOVE Easter. And this is kind of crazy, but I've always enjoyed picking something to "give up" for forty days.

 The reasons for this are two-fold:
 1. I have a tendency to start things, and not finish them. I think it's undiagnosed ADHD. So there was always an enormous sense of satisfaction when I actually did (or didn't do) something consistently for forty days.
 2. I am a rule-follower. I tend to see things in the black and white. So lent was always kind of "fun" as a child and teenager--how "close" could I get to the line between black and white without going over? I was the kid who would give up chocolate, and eat "around" all of the chocolate chips on a chocolate chip cookie.

Even as an adult, I struggle with the "letter of the law" vs. the "spirit of the law." But that's another post. :o)

 In my crazy, busy, searching adult life, I got away from the discipline of the Lenten season. Last year, I decided to purposefully participate in a way that I hadn't since I was in college. I attended the evening Ash Wednesday Mass at the church my grandmother and I attended when I was in high school. I don't think I'd been there since I last went with her...close to 20 years ago. I had picked something to give up--animal products. I was going "vegan" for Lent. And I had made those resolutions to myself that I always make at times like these...pray every day, do a devotion every day, read my Bible every day.

 I was ready.

 My faith is such an interesting thing. I don't have a "conversion" experience, a defining moment, anything like that. I can't ever remember not believing. There are times when--honestly? I've wished I was an unbeliever. I think it would be easier. I wouldn't have to try to explain to myself why bad things happen to good people, why life isn't fair, etc. But I can't get there. Life for me doesn't make sense without God. Even more than it doesn't make sense with Him. If that makes sense...:o)

 So I went to church and as I was sitting there, I encountered God. Well? Shouldn't we encounter God when we go to church?  Honestly...most of the time, I don't.

 And at the time, I wished I hadn't.

 My "encounter with God" went something like this:

 God: Are you serious about this Lent thing?

 Me: What do you mean? Of course I am. I'm here. In church. I'm getting the ashes. I'm going vegan. I had my last piece of absolutely amazing bleu cheese for the next forty days right before I arrived. I signed up for a daily devotion to come to my email and I'm going to read it every day.

 God: Really? You're serious about the spirit of this discipline? About growing closer to Me? Seeing just a little bit better what forty days in the wilderness was like for My Son? Preparing yourself for His sacrifice?

 Me: Umm...I think so. Yes. Sure. I am.

 God: Okay then. Let Me be perfectly honest with you. I don't really care if you eat animal products or not for the next forty days. But there is some stuff that I care about very much that I need you to give up. And I'm not just asking for a forty day "vacation." I mean give up. For good. Are you in?

 Remember when I said sometimes I wish I was an unbeliever?

 This was one of those times.

 I didn't answer God right then. I participated in the mass, left the church, and prepared to "go vegan" for forty days by not getting chicken, cheese, or sour cream on my salad at Chipotle.

 But in the end, my answer to God was, "Yes. I'm in." There never really was any other answer to give.

 And here I sit, on the eve of another Lenten Season.

 Ash Wednesday Mass is at 7 am tomorrow.

 I've noticed that Taco Bell now has "fish tacos" and Wendy's has a "fish sandwich" on the menu.

 I've signed up for yet another Lenten devotional to come to my email account. 

I'm "eating clean" for Lent--I've dabbled in it for the last couple of months, but cheated and fell off the wagon every time. So for the next forty days, no processed foods, no grains, no dairy. No kidding.

 My dear friend, Julie just texted to ask when she can bring by some 'creme brulee' for my last dairy and sugar 'hurrah.'  I suspect she's coming to see me one last time before I turn into a total hag eating like a health nut.

I'm also giving up facebook.

(And I'm wondering if by giving up facebook, do I have to also give up Pinterest? Or is playing on Pinterest like giving up chocolate and eating the cookie part off of the chocolate chips?)