Juggling, juggling, who really sees it?
Balancing, balancing, just barely keeping steady
Piling, piling, the stack is growing taller
Smiling, smiling, don't show what you feel
Caring, caring, they are depending
Swearing, swearing, all inside my head
Sleeping, sleeping, maybe just ignore it?
Praying, praying, it's silent, but it's there.
A couple of weeks ago we went out to dinner at the fine establishment you see in the photo above. Fun for the whole family, right? Are you thinking, "What were they thinking?" Because...we were thinking that when we finally found it. Let me back up a bit.
Group discount deals are all the norm anymore and I get so many in my inbox I now I usually ignore them all. But this was one I actually opened, clicked the links, and thought, "Hmm, sounds like it might be a good deal." I bought the Groupon (or whichever other site it came from). It was to Thunder Alley in central Oklahoma City. On the night in question we had our fourth preview service for City Pres that night and I thought it would be fun to go out for dinner afterwards. I printed this deal out and we made our way...straight to a Hooters restaurant in central Oklahoma City.
Again, say it with me, "What were they thinking?" We drove all around where the GPS said the address led us to and it had led us straight to a Hooters restaurant. I don't know if you know me well or not, but there's no way on the planet I will ever intentionally set foot in that place, let alone take my husband and kids into it. Confused and getting more frustrated by the minute, we finally pulled over at the gas station right next to it. Craig went in to see if they knew where Thunder Alley was. They pointed to the building just behind them and said, "It's on the other side of that fitness place." Okay. We drove around and we saw what you see in the photo above - a skanky-looking alley with a garage door outlined in trashy blue Christmas lights. We half-expected to have to tap a code on the door and give the secret message before being admitted.
In truth, Craig popped his head in first to see if it was appropriate for us to bring our kids into or not. He came out and said, "Come on in."
I wish I'd taken a photo of the inside for you, not because it was so so so so much more aesthetically amazing than the outside was, but because it WAS a serious improvement over their first impression. It was almost completely empty the night we went and the guy who was bussing tables was also the host. He was also our waiter. He was also our chef. He was a one-man show that night.
And the food? It was seriously amazing. I'm not sure how he pulled that off, working completely alone the way he was, but he did it and all six of us left that night wondering just what it was that we had experienced there. It was weird, you know? The senses, they did not match up, but the overall experience was a good one.
I'm trying to figure out where I'm going with this story because in some weird way I think I am the story.
I feel like I'm the living embodiment of 38 years' worth of underdeveloped potential. I think on occasion I have the capacity and ability to pull off something pretty amazing, but I think when it does happen most people are thinking, "What? How?" Because most of the time I give off the outside of Thunder Alley impression. I feel like most of what I do is sit in my car staring at the trashy blue lights outlining the garage door of my future, afraid to walk through it to see if there's anything worth experiencing on the other side.
Sometimes I wonder if it's just safer for people to assume I am the trashy blue lights and drive away.
Compare, compare, compare. It's pretty much what I do best and I've been doing it really well ever since middle school. I compare myself to others, I get discouraged by what I see as all my shortcomings, I decide to stop trying. Wash, rinse, repeat.
I think I've talked myself into somehow being okay with this warped worldview for living, but I'm now seeing the same pattern in my teen/pre-teen kids and it kills me to know they are heading down that same path.
I can tell them they are beautiful because I think they are. I can tell them they are intelligent because I think they are. I can tell them that their lives have meaning and value because I truly believe they do. But if they don't believe it for themselves, my words don't hold much weight.
I know. Because it's the world I inhabit every single day.
I'm not writing this post for the purpose of hoping a bunch of people come back here to debunk everything I've said. I'm not writing it in an attempt to resolve to do better this year. I'm writing it simply because I think I finally need to put words to these feelings that have pressurized inside me for over twenty-eight years.
Maybe this is the year I find contentment in the critique.
Nancy Wilson posted a piece today on New Year Contentment. She says, "Contentment doesn’t change our circumstances, but it does change our hearts, which makes all our circumstances more comfortable. Our contentment does not lie in our circumstances, for if it did, we would only be able to be content when everything is going exactly as we like, which isn’t very often. Contentment is found in Christ, who will never leave us or forsake us. Contentment is found in submitting to God’s purposes and plans in our lives, even (or especially) when we don’t understand. Contentment is a way of exercising our faith."
There's more and it's all worth reading, so scoot on over there and be encouraged (or challenged).
Compare or be content. Compare or be content. Compare or be content.
Be content.
I hope.
December 14, in which Craig and I have now been married for 15 years. After waking up from our late-afternoon school-induced respective comas (his from administrating, mine from homeschooling), we debated the following scenarios:
1) We go out to dinner by ourselves.
2) We get take-out and bring it back.
3) I take the girls out while Craig drops dead again into his after-school coma and then bring him something back.
4) We take the girls and all six go.
We opted for #4 because when you are nearly dead the prospect of preparing dinner for your kids so you can go out to eat only to come back to the need to clean up your kids' dinner did not sound like an awesome way to celebrate fifteen years of very very hard work. And also, we felt like Craig really probably should be present.
We went to Red Robin. And we were happy.
DDP: Day 14. Check out more from the December Photo Project here.
Craig and I will have been married for 15 years on December 14. To celebrate, I bought him The Meaning of Marriage by Timothy Keller.
Wasn't that nice of me? "Here, Sweetie, happy anniversary. Why don't you read this so we can have a better marriage?"
Actually, I didn't really buy it for him. I bought it for me and my gift to him is that I'm going to actually read it - the entire thing - by December 14.
I think it's a bit ironic that my brand new copy of this book arrived pretty dinged up. What should be shiny and new arrived at my door already a bit on the beat up side. If that isn't a picture of marriage, I'm not sure what is.
People get married with so many expectations of what life together will and should be, and when a big smudge arrives the next week to mar our perception of perfection, it can make us question the contents.
I have a pretty good idea I have no reason to question the quality of the contents of this book, no matter what happened to it in transit. But I should probably start looking at my own marriage a little deeper than just the surface of what we look like to each other and the rest of the world and get a good reminder of the heart of who we are, both as individuals and together.
And so, my gift to Craig is a book that I'm not asking him to read, but that I'm promising to read myself. Here we go.
Buck Denver Asks...Why Do We Call It Christmas?
These are the questions I ask every year.
I've loved the entire What's In The Bible
I just started a new group: MAPCJIAOCCSB - Mothers Against Putting Cheap Junk In An Operation Christmas Child Shoe Box. I'm really expecting it to take off in a hurry.
*giggle*
Seriously, though, I wrote about my thoughts on Operation Christmas Child here and here. I just reread the posts and I'm relieved to know that I haven't changed my mind on that in the past six years.
At the same time, I'm still saddened by gigantic group efforts to fill as many boxes as they can with cheap plastic junk that won't make it past New Year's Eve.
I love the mission behind Operation Christmas Child. I think the Samaritan's Purse ministry is a valuable one and I've thought that for years and years. I also think we need to give a thoughtful response to what we put in our boxes for these precious kids. If it isn't something you would be thrilled to give your own child...why bother giving it to someone else?
2 Corinthians 9:7 reminds us about giving from our hearts, "Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."
I'm not trying to guilt anyone into giving high-dollar shoe box gifts. I just think that if we're going to do this, then let's DO THIS.
Who's with me here at MAPCJIAOCCSB? I might make some badges. (kidding)
It's been a while since I've rounded up some links. It's also been a while since I've written anything. Those two worlds are colliding tonight and I bring you my first volume of "Since I apparently have nothing to say right now, go read some of these."
Well, shoot. I don't even have any more links this week. So just go read Coralie's. But I do have a picture:
I made candles today. Christmas Cheer and Mulled Cider. My house smells awesome right now.
And that's about all I've got.
