It has been a long time

Life is ever evolving for me.  It's like that for everyone.  I guess I could have been born into a family and a life that permitted me to live out my days in one small area.  Living my life in one town or maybe a couple, possibly even just within one state.   No.  My life has been a series of several towns and cities and several states.

This chapter starts in Redwood, New York.  Not once during the past 20 or so years has it ever crossed my mind that I would be living in New York state again.  I was happy to leave when I did some 20(+) years ago.  I've always said that "I never left anything in New York, so there's no reason to go back."  I meant every word of it.   For the past 5 years, I've given the choosing of the areas where I live over to my husband's career.   I've retained the right to choose the home and community, but the area is all his. 


We've spent 4(+) years living in Colorado and I loved it.  We both loved it.  It was such a change for us both and the realization of a childhood dream for me.  I've dreamed of living in Colorado since I was a little girl.  Colorado always seemed so perfect to me.  In my mind, it held the same aura as the wild west.  Everything about the lifestyle that was depicted to me there seemed relaxed, free and inviting.  In my mind, the people who lived there didn't have to live up to any expectations other than their own.  That to me was just pure bliss. 

But here I am in New York.  Again.  Here I am in New York, but different this time.  This time I'm happy, I'm free and I am not alone.   I'm so close to the Canadian border that I could walk there, if the St. Lawrence River wasn't in the way.  The people here are different than where I lived in New York before.  Or maybe its truly just me who is different.   I feel a sense of coming home in a strange way.  As though I'm back for a purpose and this time I'm capable and able to meet the challenge. 

To commemorate this move and this sense of realization in my life, I'm resurrecting this old blog.  The older posts probably don't represent me too much any longer.  But they do show me a sense of progression and keep me grounded in who I've been.  The me who existed before the older posts in this blog are kept in handwritten forms, in the memories of those who've walked part of the journey with me and in places deep within myself.  I'm hopeful, as is my way.  That hope hasn't failed me as yet.  So I will keep it close and put one foot in front of the other. 

Tomato - - Tomatoe

Every been in a place where the language you were speaking wasn't the language that everyone around you was hearing? I think I live in such a place.

It seems to go far beyond the difference between apples and oranges. In my world they are more like apples and brazil nuts.

I think that the more honest I am and the more of myself I share, the less honest people think I am and the less of myself people seem to understand. And I wonder how misunderstood this blog is or will become? If you don't know me or understand me, then how can you possibly understand what I write?

Is it truly that my perceptions aren't real...but everyone elses are? Has political correctness and southern hospitality taken the place of facts, reality and honesty?

I don't belong where I am . . . so why am I here? What is it that I have to learn before I can move on? Or maybe recognizing the need to part ways and then doing so - is what I am here to learn? Now that would be simple.

But then again, if I communicate that I am leaving - would anyone hear or understand?

OK....now even I have a headache.

How much is too much?

I have often been told that I tell too much, and that I share too much of myself. It is possible that many people who have told me this meant that I talk too much as well. My mother, friends, and even my husband have instructed me to keep things closer to my chest. Certainly, these comments are meant to protect me.

Recently I shared with a friend and co-worker that I have noticed that it has become commonplace, dramatic, popular and in some instances expected for us to share the horrors of our pasts when they include things such as abuses, addictions, alternate lifestyle choices and other high profile and currently socially acceptable sins -- especially if these things were committed against us, out our control, or if enough time has past since the occurrence to assure the listeners of some semblance of cleansing.

I then shared my insight that we don't appear to be as comfortable sharing our recent errors, or sins that would incur less dramatic impact on our audiences such as; lying, deceit, lust, greed, manipulation, and selfishness. We have tended to be comfortable sharing the larger ticket items since they can be easily seen as being outside of ourselves. Alcoholism, drug addiction and the like are all things that are seen as diseases, demons, and such that we have no real control over them. We didn't 'do' or 'commit' them as much as they were done to us. Therefore we can incur some pity, some form of social acceptance as these were things committed against us...not by us. Yet the lesser sins, are harder to twist into social acceptance. I wonder how much impact would be had by someone confessing their sins of lying, manipulation, lust, etc.? What would come of someone honestly confessing the devestation that befell everyone around them for their 'little' discrepencies.

My friends response was that it benefits no one for someone to share so much or to be so honest with either their past, their present or their internal conflicts.

He who guards his mouth and his tongue keeps himself from calamity (Pr. 21:23)

Even a fool, when he keeps silent, is considered wise; When he closes his lips, he is considered prudent. (Pr. 17:28)

Maybe my friend is correct? But let's not tell her......

It's a whole new Day!

Looking for a good read? I am almost finished with "True Faced", and I highly recommend it.

It has been a long time since I read a book and/or took a class in church that impacted me so much. I wish I could go into great detail about all the things I have learned from this book. But the truth is that I don't feel that I have learned anything in the sense of mastering the text, it's more like I have been enlightened. This enlightenment has started me on a new journey in my walk with God. A fresh walk, a new path with new scenery and a new perspective on the end of my own path.

Speaking to God in a new way, with new verbiage and without the old expectations or limtations. Coming to terms with the fact that people can love or accept me simply in their own way of loving or accepting me, and not in the way that I expect them to love or accept me. (and it's OK.)

Understanding what humility really means, what trust, confession, repentance and ultimately grace really mean. Seeing a journey and knowing that I will not be alone, that I am not and have never been alone on the journey.

Of course I am still in awe of just how simple it really is. How simple God intended it to be. (Of course this new knowledge brings me to my newest internal discussion involving why we need to make everything so complicated to begin with?)

One outcome for me has been acceptance . . . . of myself. Acceptance that I am not a Martha. For so long I wanted to be a Martha. I thought life was easier for the Martha's. They are accepted for their abilities. Their needs are understood. They are praised for the talents and gifts that they offer.

I am not a domestic goddess, not a June Cleaver, and I never took home economics in school. I never learned to sew. I hate to clean. I don't make homemade Christmas gifts, or specialize in pretty wrapped gifts for all occasions. I never remember birthdays, anniversaries or send cards. Emily Post would consider me a neanderthal.

I would love to have people over and show them hospitality....(when I am in the mood for it). And even then, it's not the traditionally accepted form of hospitality. I would rather have deep conversations, share insights or have a productive debate, than to prepare a tasty little something and make small talk. I absolutely hate the thought that people would be in my home simply to gauge my value and then find it imparitive to 'pray' for me and my inabilities with others.

I am coming to terms with the fact that I am a Mary - not a Martha. Of course I shared this little piece of sudden enlightenment with my husband. He looked at me with great wisdom and support and said "It's OK, I already knew that." How could I not love this man.

Our Family's Birthday Life Lesson

The picture is of a cake that I made for my son's 7th birthday. My first attempt at being what friends would term a "foo-foo" mom.

Who knows when the next little spark of creative homemaking energy will strike. At least it is posted here for posterity - and proof that I could do it.

My First Time . . .

Thanks goes out to Chris Hall for unknowingly kicking off my own blog. Of course I had viewed other blogs, but never really felt the need or desire to participate or even respond. So here goes...

The most intriguing part is that I have no way of knowing whether anyone will read any of this, let alone respond. And yet I type on. Amazing isn't it. A bit like wondering if the iron is really hot or not.... let's try touching it. (don't even pretend you haven't done it - or know someone who has.)

Guess this a little like an online diary - thankfully it isn't a video diary.

Today is Sunday. I was in church this morning and feeling a bit out of place. Sadly this isn't unfamiliar, although it probably isn't anyone's fault but my own. There was a visitor to our Sunday School class, at least she was new to me. After sitting and wondering how long it would take until someone talked to her, sat with her or even acknowledged her existence - I decided to move a bit closer and share my Sunday School materials. She was so nice and open to the contact. I am sure she has no idea just how much I needed that interaction. But it truly made my day.

It is curious how much I learn about myself even at my age from such little moments and interactions.