Raw 10-minute Tuesdays-The problem with significance...

Join me today for real, raw 10-minute writing. This is a blog party where we safely post how we really feel about the topic given. A place where we don't have to pretty up our posts so others will like it. No legalism and no pretending we don't struggle. Just unabashed honesty.

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  Only three rules: 1) No judging. 2) Please link my blog on your post (see above). 3) Please read at least one other blog post and leave an encouraging or "I can relate...me too" comment.

Today's Topic:  The Problem with significance...we all want to be somebody

 10 minutes-GO!

Upon hearing the lyrics to the song below, I thought of the above photo (yes, that is me). How I want to shoot the significance I desperately grasp and crave. Kill it. Then, I would be free. Free to not strive, seek, or long . To give up the false hope that if I could just be somebody then the respect, recognition, credit, value and acceptance would come.

  I’m just the boy (girl) inside the man (woman), not exactly who you think I am...You came and made me who I am. I remember where it all began, so clearly...You created me, Something I never would have seen...You’re the only one who knows, who I really am...
We all wanna be somebody, we just need a taste of who we are
We all wanna be somebody, we’re willing to go but not that far. -Thousand Foot Krutch

It is my stain that never comes out. How embarrassing to call it sin. Stupid sheep don't like to be called stupid either.  But they are and so am I.

I want to scream so clearly, "Die search for significance...you are not welcome in my life anymore! All you bring is disillusioned disappointment!"

There is this me that's soaked to the bone in "if-only" sentiments that distort my relationship with the Lord and it frustrates me. And I ask God to purge it from me. But, significance is persistent. So persistent in fact that it drives most of why I do what I do. Doesn't it?

To the point that I question my own sincerity.  

So I walk the fine line daily between flesh and the spirit. Everyday I ask God to expose it. It's okay, I want him to. He is the antibiotic to the "Worthy" disease. 

Personally, I am tired. This fight to allow God to be the Master of my life, the only one I worship versus everything else that wants to sit at the throne has worn me down. 

I have to squash the bug that lies and remember that as I lift my hands openly to Him that He will stretch down wide open every time. That His grace is the ONLY hope I have to battle my struggles. 

 

To walk humbly with my Lord is seeing me rightly...a sinner who is saved. A sheep who needs a shepherd. To see who I really am!  

To see that I really don't need the world's applause to be valuable, worthy, or called.

"...You are precious to me. You are honored, and I love you...Bring all who claim me as thier God, for I have made them for my glory. It was I who created them." 

Isaiah 43:4, 7 (NLT)

STOP! OKAY, YOUR TURN...

 

Writer's Workshop: These things in nature make me smile

These things in nature make me smile...

Okay, they make me laugh too! Like this lazy lizard we took a picture of...I just want to be that Collard Lizard. Ya know, basking in the sun, looking all pretty and not having to worry about sun damage or if I shaved. Ahem.

We took a backpacking trip (before kids) in Rocky Mountain National Park. This is one of my favorite scenes. Glorious!

Crossing bridges over beautiful rivers!

Sweet baby birds sitting on my fence. Don't you just want to hug them?
 

I have always been lucky enough to have nature constantly knock on my back door...okay, some have traipsed into my home without an invitation, but that is a different story for another post. However, my loyalty to letting nature be itself has rewarded me with amusing tales and experiences. So before I share one of my favorites stories, I have to tell you that Hummingbirds make me smile the most.


Don't be fooled by their size (some are only about 3 inches big)! These birds can be ruthless. Little jets ripping thru the air and sword fighting one another. I seriously could watch and chuckle for hours. On occasion, I have been scrutinized by these tiny wonders. Don't worry, I was never injured.

So my story? I saved a Hummingbird.

It was a typical muggy, hot Texas day. He ran into the Dairy Queen window where I was going to get an awesome Oreo Blizzard. He was stunned. I picked him up and for the first time in my life, I was holding a Hummingbird on my hand. Seriously, it felt like NOTHING was on my hand. So light and fragile. So we cooled off inside the Dairy Queen where I was greeted with the wide, curious filled eyes of strangers. You would have thought I was a street performer..."Girl trains her pet Hummer to stay on her thumb." One of the kind DQ workers gave me some Coke. So I nudged the little Hummer gently until it took a teeny sip with its' clear tongue.  He perked up, realized he was on a human hand and freaked out. I did manage to get him outside.

So there ya have it, I am a hero in the Hummingbird world. And I was rewarded with that sweet memory. I am grinning widely as I type this...

Linking up with: http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/blog/

Trapped in Parent Land

Parent Land: (Noun) 1.When Someone whom is a parent gets caught up in thinking that their young children daily plot new ways to offend them. 2. Someone caught up in perpetual parent guilt. 3. A place where parents meet to hopefully find camaraderie and to show battle scars.

This is where I am at. Trapped in reruns. I often don't enjoy reruns of some shows. And honestly, who in the world wants to watch mine? Not I, thank you very much.

I seriously find my self offended by and sensitive with my children. Daily I am experiencing a feeling that they really don't like me, enjoy dissing and not listening to me. In one word: I feel disrespected by my children. They are only 2 and 4.  Really?

DON'T you dare say it to impose some self-righteousness, "Welcome to parenting." 

Instead, I am writing this to share my struggle. To voice out what I am feeling in hopes to understand and (see #3 in the definition of Parent Land).

I have always been labeled a sensitive person. I like to call myself compassionate and conscientious if you don't mind.  So I possess a very uncanny sense of the motivation of others, but this is usually better executed with older children and adults. This can be a curse as I find myself questioning people more than I probably ever should. I do this with my children. Yes, sometimes it bores itself out of my insecurities. Out of my need for approval.

But, what if I am wrong? I am wrong at times. What if my children are just well, being children? Here comes the parent guilt! See, I am feeling like my children and I are butting heads more than I want. That I fail more at parenting then succeed. I am afraid they will grow up carrying my baggage or have the issues I still face as an adult. 

I want to protect them. 

Protect them from me...from my sins. I want them to see this woman after God's own heart and not think, hypocrite.

To understand  and clearly see my faith, my love for the Lord...how much I CANNOT and REFUSE to do life without the Lord. He is my hero...my Savior.

YET...I will never do it perfectly. What if I have already crossed the line? What if the yelling, impatience or harshness has already ruined things? What if the hugs, kisses, pats on the back, loving discipline, saying, "I am sorry for..." and open heart and arms is not enough?

What then? 

God steps in and tells my heart, "I've got this, so hand it over."

      AND...

I am reminded, "...The world and all its people belong to Him." Psalm 24:1 

Alright, your turn. Share your battle scars with me...


Linking up with: http://www.findingheaventoday.com/ 
 

Rubberbands can only stretch so far...

I was the white girl on free and reduced lunch who ate peanut butter off a butter knife for a snack. I did my homework by candle light for a couple of days and didn't mind. My parents were divorced. My mother's paycheck barely paid (and sometimes didn't pay) the bills. I didn't even know I fell into the category of white trash girl.

I  just loved my mommy. Ya know blood runs thicker than water...I am blood and I still wanted to belong so bad in my family...to feel like my loyalty to them would pay off one day.

 It never really has.   

I survived being stretched then...even though I didn't even know what that meant...what it would mean later.

I have always been the person who felt like a polka dot among the stripes...out of sorts, out of place and not sure which upholstery would best manufacture a striped me. I have fought hard to create a version others would like and compromised...and it cost me a different kind of stretching. The kind that stings from consequence.

All the while struggling to accept God's whisper, "You are significant because I made you. You are my child. I have better for you. Listen to me, trust me."

Me: "I do God, but I feel I am about to snap or break off...ya know a rubber band can only be pulled so far."

His response in my life has not been to stop stretching me. All the pulling, tugging, rearranging has brought me closer to understanding Him...closer to Him, period.


Linking  up @

The difference between 28 and 38

There is so much I don't do, um or can't do now that I am 38.
Sometimes I miss the 28 me with no kids, uninterrupted time, conversations whenever, wherever, and the I can leave and go any place on a dime (no worrying about naps, snacks, diapers or if there is a decent restroom nearby)!

PAUSE - deep breath as I ponder the quiet days...

28 me...

 Okay, but who am I kidding? Living in the past is well, so unproductive. Yet, sometimes to move forward in life we have to make peace with that was then and this is now.  So here are the differences between 28 and 38 me. Sort of SPOILER: 38 ain't all bad, I promise!

28: My hubby and I are so in love. I think about him constantly. Can't wait til' he gets home so we can snuggle.
38: I love my husband. I am lucky to have him. I hope he helps me with the boys when he gets home because I could use a break.

28: I always have privacy in the bathroom.
38: My new bathroom theme song?: "I always feel like somebody's watching me."

28: I am more of an admirer of God than a devoted follower. How dare He interfere in my life.
38: I can't do life without you EVER God. Jesus, interfere in my life because you know best and I will mess it up plenty if you don't divinely intervene! Like STAT.

28: I have money to buy things for myself. A lot of life is about me.
38: Do we have money to buy the boys clothes? Chris (hubby), please let me buy you some new under-shirts the holes are really showing now.

28: Sleeping in until 9 am on a Saturday rocks. Wonder what hubby and I will do today?
38: 7:00 am: Hubby and I are awakened by a blue-eyed, long eyelashes boy who says, "Can we play Hide and Seek in your bed?"

28: I am a first year art teacher with a Master's Degree in Education and I make good money when combined with hubby's income.
38: I taught for 9 years and no one REALLY cares how many degrees I have. I am in my second year as a stay-at-home mom and I am still confused on how I got here. Oh, wait, I agreed to obey God, Yeah, forgot about that...

28: I have to give my self time-outs, tell my self no, and "Dionne, if you touch that it will burn you." I feel guilty when I eat too much ice cream.
38: Now, I find my self dishing all of the above to little people that God is trusting me to parent well...and I have parent guilt ALL the time!  Ice cream is not something I feel guilty about any more.

28: Maybe if I am kinder, skinnier, prettier, smarter, make more money, have great style or I am more selfless, then, people will want to be my friend, like me and accept me.
38: To my 28 self, "That's a load of poop! Sorry, my dear, but most people could care less about those things. You only repel or piss them off more if you are better in any way then them.

28: I think I am wise. I talk to myself negatively...my mom is still alive and I take that for granted.
38:  I was so unwise at 28. I talk better to myself...I refuse to listen to the lies. I miss my mom and wish I could cry in her lap while she strokes my hair.

I really do like who I am better at 38 even if life can be more busy and complicated...and yes, my body, mind and face will never be as firm and sharp as it used to be, but it doesn't really matter in the scheme of things...

Give me a minute and it will eventually connect

If you know my hubby he would kindly admit that he married a woman who might be related to the Absent-minded or is it the Nutty Professor? Okay both!

But if you give me a minute, somehow in my brain the reality or answer or whatever will connect. 

And I won't need as much explaining or help unless you start throwing advance math at me then, well, it is like your are speaking Chinese.

Let's just say my problem is details. Too many and my brain gets foggy, confused and you will see the panic in my eyes as I desperately seek a pen and paper. If I write it down it helps. That's just the way God made me. I am a ENFP type or an Otter or Champion Idealist if you are well versed in all those major personality testes floating around. My hubby? Complete opposite.

Yet, somehow, we connect well. Hubby's sharper, elephant brain that my first born has inherited makes up for my head in the clouds, oops, I forgot-even-though you. Told. Me. Two. Seconds. Ago!

We laugh and I love that I have been braver in the past few years about making more fun of myself. That actually my flaws or quirks is what connected us in the first place.

Tell me your "connect" story...
   Linking up for Five-Minutes with lisajobaker.com