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Blogging this week has been the very furthest thing from my mind. Unusual, yes.

While the details of some parts of my life I seem to share with the general public with a complete lack of bashfulness, there are other parts which I cannot disclose in great detail. To address this conundrum, I feel it is at least appropriate for me to use this blog as a platform for airing my thoughts, but with great care for allusive, covert references Forgive.

Life, as we all know, or should by now, does not always go according to “plan”: That amazing business that you throw your money and life into goes belly up, natural disasters tear apart your home, loved ones move on to the next life — sometimes in unexpected and painful ways, families fall apart from a gazillion issues under the sun, or friends betray our trust.

We all go through somewhat similar experiences when these things happen. Shock, denial, anger, and grief take their turns at us. Hopefully, and usually, healing does too. We begin to eat again, work again, laugh again. The loss itself might not ever be painless, but the heartbreaking helplessness of the loss will ease, (interesting, how similar this pain of loss is much like the pain of childbirth).

Perhaps the greatest piece of it all is when something that fell apart, went out of business, and broke into little pieces is ready to be restored: the start of a new business, the rebuilding of the next house, the birth of a new loved one, the healing of marriages, the reconciliation of friends. Grace upon grace is given to us by the One who made our hearts, and it never ceases to amaze me at just how that all works; How joy can fill up empty spots, left barren by disappointment.

It is the misadventures of life, the plans that went haywire, that tend to make up our story, as individuals, and as a human race. Painful as they are.

“Consider it all joy, my friends, when you encounter various trails, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing…” - James, brother of Jesus.

Let there be peace on earth,
and let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on Earth,
the peace that was meant to be.

With God as our Father,
brothers all are we,
Let me walk with my brother,
in perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me,
let this be the moment now.
With every step I take,
let this be my solemn vow,

To take each moment and live each moment
in peace, eternally.
Let there be Peace on Earth,
and let it begin with me.

Words and Music by Jill Jackson and Sy Miller, Circa 1955

For some reason, I have a vivid memory of my 8th birthday. When it was all over, the presents unwrapped, cake eaten, gal pals headed home, I laid in my bed in tears. The reason? I could feel, maybe for the first time, that I was aging; that I was going to have to grow up.

Sure, it’s inevitable - at least in terms of the physiological progression of maximum bodily potential and vitality, followed by the gradual decline towards decay. Lovely. And while often the growth process with regards to both the body and the “rest of us” (aka heart, mind, soul?) are more connected than we think (just ask the raging hormones of a 15 year old or the post-menopausal woman), there are just some parts about “growing up” that are a bit more unpredictable and circumstantial. Sometimes major life events, such as the divorce of our parents, our marriage, child-rearing, etc open us up to new experiences, new responsibilities, and new ways of relating. Sometimes its working through things, learning and education, counseling, so on which brings us to new levels of self-awareness or responsibilities to compose ourselves as competent “adults” in a big, big world of diversity. Maybe its doing some travel and seeing this diversity first-hand, being able to see beyond the scope of the town you grew up in and the small group of people with which you have most of your interaction. It’s often close relationships, too, with a partner, parents, friends, children, boss’ or co-workers, neighbors, pastor, etc who push you to new limits (to put up with them?) or challenge your preconceived ideas about how you and the world around you operate. And isn’t it also accurate to say that the most emotionally stunted individuals are those who are isolated, who refuse to partake in community for fear that they might just have to deal with people that don’t like them, or that they don’t like, or (gasp! even worse?!) some one who challenges them to work through their insecurities, bad habits, and poor relational skills in order to come out stronger and more equipped with grace and love. People who can avoid others by the simple close of a door, so they don’t even have to share a backyard.

But life is short. Yesterday I had a baby and today he is nearly three years old. Blink.of.an.eye. I could say that, if I’m very, very lucky, I have already lived only one quarter of my life on this planet. But something tells me that in the end, the other three quarters will be too quick also. I’ve been stuck on this concept lately that my time here is best spent serving, loving, and -yikes- growing, and not on petty disagreements or fits of temper, avoiding touchy situations and pleasing people. I’ve got all these sore spots in my heart, like little areas of decay, from anger and resentment and insecurity and lack of trust, and if I’m not in the process of healing them, but rather picking at them and opening them back up again and again, then I’ll suffer from infection. And I don’t want that, because it doesn’t sound nearly as fun as the reckless abandon and gut-wrenching uncertainty of living this one short life out to the fullest.

So my mantra lately? To grow up. Like the magnet on my fridge reminds me, “Put your big girl panties on and get over it.” Or, to put it another way, no more peeing in my diaper. I just hope I have a confident heart like my kiddo, who, after using the “big” potty, emerges to say:
TAAAA - DAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

Whew! The weather firefox add-on at the bottom of my browser is reporting “Now: Sunny, 76 F”, but I just don’t believe it. When the back of your knees are sweating, you know its hotter than hades.
Lil’ E is at nanny Anna’s today, having a ball, no doubt! The chicks are the backyard about to pass out. I am safely tucked away in the house at the moment, where the cool night temps linger. It seems like just last week I was worried about freezing out my newly planted tomato starters- and now the record high temps threaten to burn them up! Tomorrow it is supposed to reach nearly 100 degrees!

All of this is so full-circle, it really is. This time last year, I was selling the last of my belongings that weren’t already packed up. I was preparing to send Hubby off with our car on a 3,000 mile road trip while I finished up the house cleaning before Lil’ E and I flew not far behind him to our new home, Portland, on May 21st. Everything about Portland this time of year was captured by my senses because it was so new and exciting. I familiarized myself with all of the smells, like the lavender, rosemary and sage growing along the sidewalks, as if they were the encapsulated in and only in Portland. The summer heat was familiar, since in many ways the last 23 years of my life was one big summer in Florida. And the evenings were pure bliss, when the skin on my shoulders would tingle as the temperatures dropped off, giving me an excuse to grab a cute shaw and relishing the strange feeling of having stolen extra time by enjoying sunlight until at least 9 pm.

Then I made it through Portland’s grey, drizzly winter. I even made it through the up and down days of early Spring that can play mean tricks on you. I thought that the shift towards Summer would be mighty welcoming, but instead — I must admit — it is bittersweet. This time last year I was saying goodbye and hello so much that my soul was just buzzing from it all. Now the cycle of one year brings all the sights and smells and sounds back again, and all I can think about is that its been 12 months since I have been able to hug my dad, to share a good cry with Steph, or laugh a loud, tipsy laugh with my sister Rachel. And perhaps more depressing- I have no idea if it will be another year, or two, or five, before I will be able to do those things again. This economy and life have left us all pretty darn broke and busy, making the seven hour plane ride seem more like a trek on the “Oregon Trail”, where one will inevitably die of dysentery, or in the very least, lose twelve oxen along the way.

There is nothing to look forward to this time around. While I’ll enjoy the different aspects of Fall, Winter and Spring again, it just won’t be the first time. It won’t be the honeymoon- it will be the marriage. And we all know what marriage is like

Of course, there’s more to it than all of this. There’s a new presidency, (maybe a boost to the economy will create a new job for Hubby), or perhaps we will decide to do something wild and crazy together, (like have another human being with our DNA combination enter the world). Even the low-key, hum drum days of life will no doubt gift me with a nugget of satisfaction or drama, if I keep my eyes open.

Anyway, I’m waiting for June to settle in. Something tells me the grass will look greener in June.

Men who think that THIS is humorous and harmless, and worthy of a days worth of their pay. Women who think it will not harm their family to have their husbands playing these “harmless” video games where, in their alternate reality, they can pick up prostitutes and pay for three levels of service- handjob, fellatio, or cowgirl sex position.
Wise up, people. While some are out there thinking about how to make this crazy world a better place, it is sick and sad that so much time and money is being devoted to trash like this. I just have no respect for it. Zero. And I could give a crap about whether or not the entire game’s focus is this, or whether or not the players HAVE to partake in this to play this “amazing” game. It’s one thing to be legalistic, and a different thing all together to have absolutely no personal values beyond what other “buddies” are doing.
I will add that I’m not trying to sound as mean as this is coming off. I guess I just don’t get the value, if there is any, of something like this. And every once in a while this little mama has to get a wee bit for realz. But when I use the word “people” it is the generic, universal, rhetorical “people”, not a specific person. So don’t get your panties in a wedge thinking this is personal.
[/rant]

Many of you know, (and you can just check out my postmodernity blogroll category for further proof), that I kinda have some interest in the “emergent” conversations (I use the word “conversations” because it seems that most emergent leaders/writers would rather this term… using the word “movement” or something similar strikes up the typical “you’re either on the boat or off the boat”, us v. them, bla bla bla that we just can’t seem to help doing as humans, heh?)

I use the word “kinda” because I was introduced to it while pregnant several years ago and having a kiddo to run after and a bazillion odd jobs seems to limit my time to devote to my thirst for spiritual knowledge. I now say my daily service to my family is my theology, which is either true or a cop-out. I guess you’ll never really know, will ya?

So I finally woke up in time to make it to church (late) this week, but not too late to hear the announcement that Doug Pagitt is in town this week. I haven’t actually read any of his books, mind you, (need I refer to the second paragraph’s excuse again?!), but I recognize the name from… again… “emergent conversations”.

The scoop is here. I have emailed Bob (you know- Bob. Everybody knows who Bob is.) to see if there was still a spot open for little ol’ me.

I would like to point out for all obvious reasons that I should get to come to this shindig for free. Doug and I go way back, we have a connection. I work for John Wiley & Sons, who owns Jossey-Bass, who published A Christianity Worth Believing.

Like I said, we’re practically siblings.

Ahh, but that’s okay. This sounds like it’s well worth my ten measley dollars. I’ll just deduct it as a charitable tax right off. (SO joking, sheesh!)

For a chuckle, here’s my parting gift.

UPDATE: So I went downtown to switch Lil’ E with Hubby, grabbed an overpriced Nathan’s hot dog for a super nutritious dinner, and then waited at the bus stop far too long before calling the Trimet number and tracking the schedule. The darn thing must have come early because the next bus out there was 45 minutes away! WHHAATTT? (I felt like I was in Lakeland again. ) So I gave up and headed home, figuring I would have missed half the darn thing by then. Well, shoot, ya win some ya lose some.

I’ve shared here and there about my decisions surrounding childcare and work. I know so many moms struggle with it, and others maybe don’t, either because they are able and want to stay home with their kids or because they can afford childcare and want to work. There’s usually a lot more gray than that though. There are stay-at-home-moms that sometimes feel a twinge of embarrassment when some one asks, “And what do you do?” There are moms who work outside of the home and love it, but feel a sad or guilty whenever their SAHM friends recount the day they spent with their child at the zoo. There are WAHMs, of which I am one, who work from home, the “best of both worlds” as they say, struggling daily to get work done, retain sanity, and raise a child without Dora the Babysitter Explorer.

The topic itself has probably been exhausted beyond all reasonable desire to discuss it further- on television, in magazines, in playgroup, just about EVERYWHERE a mom goes. We all take some chunks and then go about life, trying to “do what’s best” for our unique families. No one quite knowing if they’ve got it right either way.  All of us loving our children so much.

My one and only, Lil’ E, will be turning THREE years old this summer. Simultaneously, a job I’ve been working for a looong time as a “temp” had an open full-time position, more or less created in hopes that I could move into it. The position sparkled with “best big companies to work for” kind of perks. It was so exciting to think about having a full-time permanent, salaried job with benefits and bonus’, a little travel, some routine and consistency. My initial thoughts? SURE, I can put Lil’ E in preschool every day, NO PROB!

Then I did the math.  Preschool, no matter how low I assumed the figured could go, would take a very large chunk of my income, nearly half of it. Taking Lil’ E to and from childcare would take 1.5 hours minimum out of my day, (and a perk of working from home is staying in pj’s and no commute!)

Even knowing that by taking the job and putting E in preschool would be an enormous financial strain, I was still ready to try making it work. Hubby and I would both keep part-time jobs to pay for childcare, we would do whatever it would take.

But in the end, as many of you know, it just wasn’t feeling “right”. I struggled with it every day and every night for a couple of weeks, and finally admitted to myself that there must be another plan for me. I did the opposite of the “planner” side in me and just decided late last week and over the weekend that I would not be applying for this job. I talked to my boss about it yesterday, so it is official.

And you know what? My decision has since been continually reaffirmed by little things and big things every where I go. I feel lighter and healthier than I have in like a year (even though I am also more broke than I have been in like a year!). Most interestingly, some one from a magazine found me over at VivianWrites and might have a consistent, flexible part-time use for me within the mag that would pay very close to what I am currently making at my “main” job, which is essentially going to be filled by a permanent employee while I lower my involvement to a very “as needed” basis.

I have also begun formulating the homeschool preschool “curriculum” (if you can call it that) that I will be using with Lil’ E for at least half of every day. I will have more flexible work, less conference calls and meetings, and be working slightly less than I have been over the passed year. I don’t have details planned out, which is a little weird for me, but since going with my gut, or maybe my heart, has been so far so good, I think I’ll ride this Surrender Train a little bit longer and see what sights I can view along the way.

“In its most profound sense, beauty may engender a salient experience of positive reflection about the meaning of one’s own existence.” -Wikipedia

“Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it” -Confucius

“Beauty is not caused. It is.” -Emily Dickinson

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” - Used by Nelson Mandela in his 1994 inaugural speech

What a strange passed few weeks I have had. I’m not sure where to begin and how much I am at liberty to share, but suffice to say that my employment situation (like the rest of the nations?!) has been in limbo (sort of?) and out playing golf and just plain driving the “planner” in me bonkers.

I love working, I really do, and I tell myself that I am darn lucky to do what I do, from home, even if I barely pay the bills, even if I feel Lil’ E is being neglected, even if I do not have the job security of permanent employment nor the perks of benefits or paid sick days. The long and short of it is part survival, part pleasure.

My (main) job has been more or less back and forth, one month I am planning for the inevitable discontinuation of my current role by brainstorming possible new careers (web design? in-home childcare again?) and the next month I am toying with the real possibility that I will be hired on permanently, which will be both a financial strain in some ways and simultaneously a great peace of mind. I struggle with seeing how things “work” out there in the great big world, where a job I already work can’t just be, well, my JOB. But I know life and corporations are more complicated than that and I try daily to leave things in God’s hands - while my captain insano “be prepared” speech turns on and I start worrying all night long about June 1st’s rent!

It’s fairly exausting to worry, as I am sure you all know. It’s not a positive energy and rarely leads to positive actions aside from getting you moving, which may or may not be what you actually need to be doing. Freud might say that being a “doer” is overcompensating for “dreamer” parents, who knows. Several people, some of whom know nothing about this situation in my life, have mentioned something along the lines of the following advice: Get to that quiet place where you can hear, and go from there.

In the meantime, let me tell you - this brain is so not quiet, and my body feels at times like its under panic attack for real! I know that the God I have relationship with is so so so darn good and true and faithful, and never once have I been regretful for surrendering my plans and worries over to him. At the same time, I am habitual in my efforts to take over and PLAN for Him, and not doing so takes concentrated effort just about every milli-second of the day.

That and two facts you will find rather TMI (”too much information”, for the grandparents): I have the first of these in like a decade and they are driving me crazy with preoccupation and additional worry AND I am SO this.

[/rant].

I plan to enjoy our last day with Ethan’s bud, Finn, on Friday, as the family we child-swap with will be moving to the east coast this weekend. We might meet a new childcare possibility the same day, more of a “nanny-share” (God, You’ve got a sense of irony about these things, don’t you?) This weekend expects to be a sunnier one than we’ve had as of late, and I plan to soak it up as much as realistically possible (Farmer’s Market on Saturday, some Coop building in the backyard, so on.) The fresh air always does me good, (one reason the carless thing is likely less of a big deal to me than it might otherwise be), so perhaps by early next week I will have some post’s for you of great fun and jubilation

Hope every one is having better luck in the future plans/economy/emotional health department - as my brother ALWAYS SAYS:

Can’t complain- Things could be a lot worse!