Now I've gone and done it. I just committed the unpardonable sin of our modern age. I Corrected Somebody Else's Child. I will have to deal with the fallout when and if it comes. But I will stand by my actions.
For those of you who know me, you know that this is a Really Big Thing. I hate confrontation, in all forms. But today I'd had enough...
In the afternoon, our school bus stop is really crowded. Anywhere up to a dozen middle school age children are waiting there for their little brothers and sisters (who ride the same bus as my daughter). Like most kids this age they posture, gossip, rag on each other and generally cause all sorts of mischief. Some of the mischief is stupid, but mostly harmless. There are usually up to a dozen parents waiting in and around the bus stop as well. Even though some of them have rolled their eyes and given the kids exasperated looks, none has said anything thus far.
Today, as I got to the corner (with my 2 year old in his stroller) one of the boys (I think of him as the Instigator) was beating up one of the other boys. Before I could say anything, the other boy broke away and stalked off. He's a good kid when he's not with Instigator, he used to hang out with my kids on the playground. Instigator is still looking to pick a fight, but the other kids are ignoring him. So I figure I'll mind my business. But I watch them...
A few minutes later, Instigator starts picking on a much smaller boy, punching him and knocking him into the fence. At this point, I snap. I don't care if his folks come after me. This is ridiculous. In my best parental yell I shout "That's enough!" at them. They stop, looking stunned. Instigator says "We were just playing". And I say, "Well, it didn't look that way to me."
The kids go on about their business. Nobody but me and God knows how badly I'm shaking inside. I hope that I won't have anymore confrontations with Instigator (or his family!). I will pray that God will send this boy someone who can relate to him and love him. I know that he's just crying out for attention, any attention. But I won't stand by and let him get it by beating up other people's children.
"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
Edmund Burke
Heaven help me and my big mouth...
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Some things I've been pondering...
Wow. It's been a long time since I posted. The funny thing is, I've had *lots* of blog posts swirling around in my head, but not the uninterrupted time or the brain power to actually type them up. Okay, so partly to remind myself, and partly to let y'all know that I've had lots of cool topics I've been chewing on the last week or so - here's a list. In no particular order, I have been pondering....
1. The interesting trend I've noticed in churches all over America - where it appears to me that God is calling His true church out of the "church proper" to come farther up and farther in, to seek His face, to reconnect with each other and our brothers and sisters across the world - using as many different, creative means as possible (especially blogging and the internet).
2. The fact that several mainstream fiction writers I've lately been reading (whose stories have supernatural elements) speak to my heart more than many Christian authors.
3. Whether the American church has completely missed the point of the gospel and is just running around looking busy.
4. Is America coming under God's judgment for setting Him aside in pursuit of the Almighty Dollar, or is this just our economy experiencing its own self-correction? (Please, no hate mail - but surely I'm not the only Christian in America who's wondered this)
5. Why does my daily life never seem to measure up to what I read about in my Bible about the early church? Have I missed something, and if so, how do I find it?
6. How do I balance caring for my children's souls, and caring for the environment (the house) they live in - especially when it seems there's barely enough time for one, let alone both, of those pursuits?
So now I'll just flip a coin and pick one of those to expound on...
1. The interesting trend I've noticed in churches all over America - where it appears to me that God is calling His true church out of the "church proper" to come farther up and farther in, to seek His face, to reconnect with each other and our brothers and sisters across the world - using as many different, creative means as possible (especially blogging and the internet).
2. The fact that several mainstream fiction writers I've lately been reading (whose stories have supernatural elements) speak to my heart more than many Christian authors.
3. Whether the American church has completely missed the point of the gospel and is just running around looking busy.
4. Is America coming under God's judgment for setting Him aside in pursuit of the Almighty Dollar, or is this just our economy experiencing its own self-correction? (Please, no hate mail - but surely I'm not the only Christian in America who's wondered this)
5. Why does my daily life never seem to measure up to what I read about in my Bible about the early church? Have I missed something, and if so, how do I find it?
6. How do I balance caring for my children's souls, and caring for the environment (the house) they live in - especially when it seems there's barely enough time for one, let alone both, of those pursuits?
So now I'll just flip a coin and pick one of those to expound on...
Monday, September 22, 2008
A lesson from God
It's been a long week. I've spent a good part of it praying and processing some hard truths that God has been showing me. I've been feeling lost and alone. For some reason I seem to keep tripping over the same problem over and over again.
I want to find my true calling, my niche, the place where who I am and what I do happens to be the place that is the center of God's will for my life. Only, God's apparent idea of my niche and mine seem to be residing on two separate planets.
See, in my envisioned niche, I have a church close to my home, that functions as my extended family, where I can plant myself and my children and stay there happily forever. It's not a perfect church (since churches are made of people, no church is) but it functions as a reasonably healthy body and provides grounding for me and my family. Out of such grounding I would be able to exercise my gifts, serve my community, share the gospel with others, and give my kids a good solid Christian foundation. I would always have a safe place to fall.
The church where God has currently planted me is a reasonably healthy church, with good programs for my kids, etc. - but it is a 45 minute drive (one way) away. That doesn't sound too bad until you try to get involved. Toss in a few ministries, a small group, and some fellowship time and you're logging a lot of miles in the car. And the kids aren't old enough for youth group yet. Since God has called me to spend more time with Him and less time spreading myself thin - that leaves me mostly isolated from my church during the week. As a stay-at-home mom of 3 small children with a husband who works many 14 hour days (he's a music teacher, comes with the territory) I get very lonely and discouraged. Especially when it seems that the spiritual atmosphere around me has gotten weird.
This weekend I had a hankering to re-watch the Lord of the Rings (yes, all 9 or 10 hours of it!). and while I was watching, God spoke to my heart. Some years ago, God revealed to me who He sees me as - my role in His eyes, that uses the gifts He has given me. I am His "warrior-princess". Ok, stop laughing - this was God's idea, not mine. When He revealed this to me I was like, "Yeah, right....nice joke, God...now tell me the real answer." Silence.
O-kaaaay. "You sure about this one, God?" I am the world's biggest cream puff. I am 5 foot 2, hate confrontations, and generally am the sort of person who would not say "boo" to a goose. I have never wielded a weapon of any sort and would be likely more dangerous to myself than anyone else if I tried. I hate being yelled at and if someone honks their horn at me in traffic it takes 15 or 20 minutes for me to calm down. Not really your usual "warrior" sort of material.
So for the past few weeks I've been attempting to just live a "normal" life. Which in my case means trying to ignore the spiritual currents that are always swirling all around me (that only others with the gift of discernment would recognize) and focusing on the "seen" world and thinking I am "safe" in my little world, my home, my neighborhood. I mean, obviously I am overestimating my importance to think I can somehow have an effect on the spiritual climate around me, right? Some sort of pre-schizophrenic delusion to think that I of all people should be important enough to God's plan that Satan would send his minions to attack me personally.
Mmm-hmmm. As C.S. Lewis once purported in The Screwtape Letters, Satan's favorite trick is for Christians to either credit him with too much or too little. You know, either we think every flat tire and headcold is from him, or we figure we're not important enough for him to bother with. How crazy of me to think that the spiritual climate around me is worsening, that something seriously sinister in taking place in small, subtle ways in the churches in my city, in the schools, in the neighborhoods. Nothing in the "seen" world has changed.
So why then have I become uneasy standing with the neighborhood teenagers at the bus stop while waiting for my kids? Why do I feel like I am being watched when I take my son to the playground at the end of my street? Why has every church my family set foot in in this city over an 8 month period (when we were church hunting) had some strange undercurrent running through it? Surely I'm becoming paranoid....
But my heart and God's Spirit within recognize what I've been studiously trying to ignore. The battle grows fierce, and the hour grows late, and even many Christians have been lulled into complacency.
Back to The Lord of the Rings..... as I watched, God whispered to my heart that, whether I want to believe it or not - even if I refuse to acknowledge it, I have been pitched into a fierce battle every bit as real the one Frodo and Sam and all the rest were unwillingly flung into. I fight to prove my true heritage in Christ every bit as much as Aragorn fought and thus proved himself worthy of reclaiming his rightful throne. It is no secret that J.R.R. Tolkien was a Christian, and that there is a great deal of Christian symbolism in the story. But what really struck me this time around was how often they fought alone, or outnumbered, how often they were discouraged and fell into despair, how many times the evil threatened to overwhelm them, how they could never let their guard down for a minute, and how each of them despaired even of life before their task was completed. And for Frodo, how he was irrevocably changed, forever separated from his "normal" life by the whole experience.
I look around me and I see other people, other Christians, leading their happy-fluffy-praise-God-Jesus-is-my-friend lives. Singing their songs, and giving their service, and quietly going about their days. The unseen world is safely hidden away from their eyes - they can take what they see at face value. Meanwhile I stand in the gap - literally as well as figuratively - poised with one foot in the "seen" world, one foot in the "unseen". Never really safe, even sleeping in my spiritual armor (how's that again? remember the nightmares? 'nuff said.)
I tried to ignore it this week and got clobbered spiritually - oppressed, depressed, cranky, discouraged, weary. I had forgotten what the apostle Peter wrote (1Peter 5:8) "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." For those of us God has given the gift of discernment, those words are not just a theoretical warning, but a harsh daily (many times hourly) reality.
For reasons known only to God, He has chosen me to be a spiritual warrior, to do battle in the unseen realms - for my church, for my family, for my friends, my neighbors, my city. I am to be the vigilant one, ready to do battle at a moment's notice. A very few people in my world understand what this reality is like from the inside out. Trying to put my experiences into words makes me sound like I should be committed. If you read Frank Peretti's "This Present Darkness" that would be the closest I could give you by way of an illustration. Thankfully God has thus far spared me from seeing this world with my physical eyes - frankly I think I'd be just as terrified to see an angel as a demon - there's a reason the first thing all those angels in the Bible said was "Fear not!"
I can really identify with Frodo Baggins when he says to Gandalf "I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." But Gandalf replies, "So do all who come to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us."
So, whether anyone else thinks I'm crazy or not, I'll be busy arming myself with some good worship music, study time in the Word, prayer against the spiritual forces of wickedness in high places, and conversation with those who will understand.
If anyone needs me, I'll be busy sharpening my sword....
p.s. that would be my *spiritual* sword (knowledge of God's Word) just so no one misunderstands
I want to find my true calling, my niche, the place where who I am and what I do happens to be the place that is the center of God's will for my life. Only, God's apparent idea of my niche and mine seem to be residing on two separate planets.
See, in my envisioned niche, I have a church close to my home, that functions as my extended family, where I can plant myself and my children and stay there happily forever. It's not a perfect church (since churches are made of people, no church is) but it functions as a reasonably healthy body and provides grounding for me and my family. Out of such grounding I would be able to exercise my gifts, serve my community, share the gospel with others, and give my kids a good solid Christian foundation. I would always have a safe place to fall.
The church where God has currently planted me is a reasonably healthy church, with good programs for my kids, etc. - but it is a 45 minute drive (one way) away. That doesn't sound too bad until you try to get involved. Toss in a few ministries, a small group, and some fellowship time and you're logging a lot of miles in the car. And the kids aren't old enough for youth group yet. Since God has called me to spend more time with Him and less time spreading myself thin - that leaves me mostly isolated from my church during the week. As a stay-at-home mom of 3 small children with a husband who works many 14 hour days (he's a music teacher, comes with the territory) I get very lonely and discouraged. Especially when it seems that the spiritual atmosphere around me has gotten weird.
This weekend I had a hankering to re-watch the Lord of the Rings (yes, all 9 or 10 hours of it!). and while I was watching, God spoke to my heart. Some years ago, God revealed to me who He sees me as - my role in His eyes, that uses the gifts He has given me. I am His "warrior-princess". Ok, stop laughing - this was God's idea, not mine. When He revealed this to me I was like, "Yeah, right....nice joke, God...now tell me the real answer." Silence.
O-kaaaay. "You sure about this one, God?" I am the world's biggest cream puff. I am 5 foot 2, hate confrontations, and generally am the sort of person who would not say "boo" to a goose. I have never wielded a weapon of any sort and would be likely more dangerous to myself than anyone else if I tried. I hate being yelled at and if someone honks their horn at me in traffic it takes 15 or 20 minutes for me to calm down. Not really your usual "warrior" sort of material.
So for the past few weeks I've been attempting to just live a "normal" life. Which in my case means trying to ignore the spiritual currents that are always swirling all around me (that only others with the gift of discernment would recognize) and focusing on the "seen" world and thinking I am "safe" in my little world, my home, my neighborhood. I mean, obviously I am overestimating my importance to think I can somehow have an effect on the spiritual climate around me, right? Some sort of pre-schizophrenic delusion to think that I of all people should be important enough to God's plan that Satan would send his minions to attack me personally.
Mmm-hmmm. As C.S. Lewis once purported in The Screwtape Letters, Satan's favorite trick is for Christians to either credit him with too much or too little. You know, either we think every flat tire and headcold is from him, or we figure we're not important enough for him to bother with. How crazy of me to think that the spiritual climate around me is worsening, that something seriously sinister in taking place in small, subtle ways in the churches in my city, in the schools, in the neighborhoods. Nothing in the "seen" world has changed.
So why then have I become uneasy standing with the neighborhood teenagers at the bus stop while waiting for my kids? Why do I feel like I am being watched when I take my son to the playground at the end of my street? Why has every church my family set foot in in this city over an 8 month period (when we were church hunting) had some strange undercurrent running through it? Surely I'm becoming paranoid....
But my heart and God's Spirit within recognize what I've been studiously trying to ignore. The battle grows fierce, and the hour grows late, and even many Christians have been lulled into complacency.
Back to The Lord of the Rings..... as I watched, God whispered to my heart that, whether I want to believe it or not - even if I refuse to acknowledge it, I have been pitched into a fierce battle every bit as real the one Frodo and Sam and all the rest were unwillingly flung into. I fight to prove my true heritage in Christ every bit as much as Aragorn fought and thus proved himself worthy of reclaiming his rightful throne. It is no secret that J.R.R. Tolkien was a Christian, and that there is a great deal of Christian symbolism in the story. But what really struck me this time around was how often they fought alone, or outnumbered, how often they were discouraged and fell into despair, how many times the evil threatened to overwhelm them, how they could never let their guard down for a minute, and how each of them despaired even of life before their task was completed. And for Frodo, how he was irrevocably changed, forever separated from his "normal" life by the whole experience.
I look around me and I see other people, other Christians, leading their happy-fluffy-praise-God-Jesus-is-my-friend lives. Singing their songs, and giving their service, and quietly going about their days. The unseen world is safely hidden away from their eyes - they can take what they see at face value. Meanwhile I stand in the gap - literally as well as figuratively - poised with one foot in the "seen" world, one foot in the "unseen". Never really safe, even sleeping in my spiritual armor (how's that again? remember the nightmares? 'nuff said.)
I tried to ignore it this week and got clobbered spiritually - oppressed, depressed, cranky, discouraged, weary. I had forgotten what the apostle Peter wrote (1Peter 5:8) "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." For those of us God has given the gift of discernment, those words are not just a theoretical warning, but a harsh daily (many times hourly) reality.
For reasons known only to God, He has chosen me to be a spiritual warrior, to do battle in the unseen realms - for my church, for my family, for my friends, my neighbors, my city. I am to be the vigilant one, ready to do battle at a moment's notice. A very few people in my world understand what this reality is like from the inside out. Trying to put my experiences into words makes me sound like I should be committed. If you read Frank Peretti's "This Present Darkness" that would be the closest I could give you by way of an illustration. Thankfully God has thus far spared me from seeing this world with my physical eyes - frankly I think I'd be just as terrified to see an angel as a demon - there's a reason the first thing all those angels in the Bible said was "Fear not!"
I can really identify with Frodo Baggins when he says to Gandalf "I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." But Gandalf replies, "So do all who come to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us."
So, whether anyone else thinks I'm crazy or not, I'll be busy arming myself with some good worship music, study time in the Word, prayer against the spiritual forces of wickedness in high places, and conversation with those who will understand.
If anyone needs me, I'll be busy sharpening my sword....
p.s. that would be my *spiritual* sword (knowledge of God's Word) just so no one misunderstands
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Questions running through my head...
What do you do when the path you thought God was leading you on suddenly leaves you feeling overwhelmed and confused?
What do you do when the choices you made in following this path you believed to be of God are having consequences on your family you never could have foreseen?
What do you do when staying on this path feels wrong, and so does leaving?
What do you do when you thought you were right at the center of God's will and all you feel is emptiness?
What do you do when you try to talk about the problem with other people, only all those other people have a vested interest in your decision?
What do you do when this problem is not one the Bible speaks directly on?
What do you do when making a decision on the matter and waiting to make a decision could both have negative and far-reaching consequences for your children?
What do you do when there is no really good solution to the problem?
What do you do when you recognize that all these uncomfortable questions and feelings could be Satan trying to distract and discourage you?
What do you do when feel like a part of your soul must be sacrificed either way?
What do you do when don't know what to do?
What do you do when the choices you made in following this path you believed to be of God are having consequences on your family you never could have foreseen?
What do you do when staying on this path feels wrong, and so does leaving?
What do you do when you thought you were right at the center of God's will and all you feel is emptiness?
What do you do when you try to talk about the problem with other people, only all those other people have a vested interest in your decision?
What do you do when this problem is not one the Bible speaks directly on?
What do you do when making a decision on the matter and waiting to make a decision could both have negative and far-reaching consequences for your children?
What do you do when there is no really good solution to the problem?
What do you do when you recognize that all these uncomfortable questions and feelings could be Satan trying to distract and discourage you?
What do you do when feel like a part of your soul must be sacrificed either way?
What do you do when don't know what to do?
Monday, September 8, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 10 - 10th Grade)
In the 10th grade, God finally threw me a lifeline in the form of 3 new girls who moved to our school district. One was Jill, a very smart, extroverted, unashamed geek. Which is to say she actually preferred hanging out with smart people who spoke intelligently. Our small town school was not kind to kids who hadn't grown up with everybody else, so when I saw her floundering a bit, I befriended her. Or she befriended me - anyway, the end result was we became good friends and confidantes and remained so for the rest of high school and college. I was in her wedding, and the only reason I haven't spoken to her in years is that we lost touch when she was moving across the country right at the time I was planning my wedding. (Jill, if you stumble across this, email me - I miss you).
The other two girls were Barbara and Marsha - sisters, two years apart. Barb was my age, Marsha younger. Both very tall (they got nicknamed the Twin Towers, which were still standing at that time). Both musically inclined, so I got to know them both in band and chorus, as well as from sitting near Barb in homeroom.
Here's where the spiritual lifeline comes in - both Barb and Marsha were openly, radically unashamed of their Christian faith. They lived it out loud, they spoke with people about it, and they introduced me to Christian rock music. That may sound funny and trivial, but it was a HUGE thing in my life. These girls were the very first people my age who lived out a vibrant, tangible Christian faith.
It may sound dumb, but the first time Barb played a Petra song for me (popular 80's Christian rock band) it was like a light bulb went off in my head. There's rock music for Christians! Holy cow! (sorry, no pun intended). Music that sung about faith and lifted you up and was fun to listen to.
I became good friends with both of them and their folks, and they started inviting me to some of their youth group events. At those events I met a whole GROUP of kids our age who were on fire for Christ! Who had everyday discussions about what it means to be born again. Truly, it was a revelation for me, who had struggled along in my faith seemingly in a vacuum for the previous 7 years.
My life did not change overnight. I was still awkward and shy and a band geek. But finally, hallelujah, finally! I had friends my age who understood my struggle and who could encourage me as sisters in Christ.
The other two girls were Barbara and Marsha - sisters, two years apart. Barb was my age, Marsha younger. Both very tall (they got nicknamed the Twin Towers, which were still standing at that time). Both musically inclined, so I got to know them both in band and chorus, as well as from sitting near Barb in homeroom.
Here's where the spiritual lifeline comes in - both Barb and Marsha were openly, radically unashamed of their Christian faith. They lived it out loud, they spoke with people about it, and they introduced me to Christian rock music. That may sound funny and trivial, but it was a HUGE thing in my life. These girls were the very first people my age who lived out a vibrant, tangible Christian faith.
It may sound dumb, but the first time Barb played a Petra song for me (popular 80's Christian rock band) it was like a light bulb went off in my head. There's rock music for Christians! Holy cow! (sorry, no pun intended). Music that sung about faith and lifted you up and was fun to listen to.
I became good friends with both of them and their folks, and they started inviting me to some of their youth group events. At those events I met a whole GROUP of kids our age who were on fire for Christ! Who had everyday discussions about what it means to be born again. Truly, it was a revelation for me, who had struggled along in my faith seemingly in a vacuum for the previous 7 years.
My life did not change overnight. I was still awkward and shy and a band geek. But finally, hallelujah, finally! I had friends my age who understood my struggle and who could encourage me as sisters in Christ.
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 9 - 9th Grade)
I forgot to mention in the last chapter that I spent my whole 8th grade year suffering from bad hair. It was the beginning of the 80's and I had the brilliant idea at the beginning of the school year to get my long baby fine hair layered and permed. NOT one of my better ideas - I spent the whole year first looking like a poodle and then growing the dumb thing out. Bad Hair is terrible addition to adolescent troubles.
So... 9th grade. Ninth grade was only marginally better than 8th grade. I was spared the indignity of being bottom of the totem pole as a freshman since they'd shipped all the 7th and 8th graders up to the high school that year. Unfortunately I was not spared the indignity of still being the butt of many practical jokes. Like putting my name on a sign up sheet for an upcoming dance with one of the most popular seniors in the school. Who I didn't even know. Who didn't know me. Fun times, that.
Two good things helped save the year from being a total disaster. First, at the beginning of the year I gathered up my courage and joined one of the most popular clubs in school for girls. They did all the cool stuff in the school - sponsored dances, Unicef trick-or-treating, parties, flower sales, etc. All the popular girls joined. Many of my friends were joining. The catch was, they had an initiation to get in. A very toned down, one day version, of a sorority hazing. Basically you had to spend one whole school day wearing whatever crazy get-up they told you to wear, doing whatever the current members told you to do, acting like their slave-for-a-day, and generally embarrassing yourself for the whole school's amusement. Harmless, but humiliating. It would basically be akin to torture for me - voluntarily putting myself in the situation I tried to avoid every single day of my life - being ridiculed and made a laughingstock. The only thing that convinced me to do it was the fact that if I did it freshman year, I'd be in good company. If you waited till sophomore year, they were purposefully harder on you, especially your own classmates who joined as freshmen. (A good friend of mine waited, and yes, they were harder on her - luckily she's always been a very good sport!)
I'd hazard a guess that they've probably had to tone it down in recent years, though I checked my old high school's website and the club still exists there. Lest you think I exaggerate, I happened across the page of my assignment book that I wrote the instructions for initiation day on:
1. Make your hair into at least 5 ponytails.
2. Put an old pair of pantyhose (with the legs on) on your head, over the ponytails, cut holes to pull ponytails through.
3. Tie a different colored ribbon on each ponytail.
4. Wear your underwear outside a pair of your dad's pants or jeans, roll the legs up to the knee.
5. Wear one of your mom's shoes and one of your dad's with no socks (I had to cheat and wear both my mom's cause my dad was afraid I'd sprain an ankle with this one.)
6. Wear your dad's button down shirt or pajama top with a tie.
7. Put at least 3 colors of nail polish on your fingernails
8. Bring an old pipe or pacifier to carry in your mouth (note: our mascot was the Mountaineer - at the time he clenched a pipe between his teeth)
9. Bring a bucket to carry your books in
10. Wear 2 different gaudy earrings
11. Can't wear makeup, but bring it (so they could put it on you in strange ways)
12. Must eat in the cafeteria that day (so you could be made to sing stupid songs to the entire lunchroom at the top of your lungs)
Well. I did it. I survived it, ego mostly intact. It was slightly more fun and slightly less embarrassing than I feared. I was also quite stealthy - I hid alot. The sisters said it wasn't fair, but the rule was they had to catch you to make you do things - and they could only catch you in the hall, classrooms were off limits.
I was glad I joined. All the activities (along with band, chorus, and a few other clubs) kept me pretty busy and my mind somewhat off my loneliness. Having the courage to suffer through the initiation raised my social standing somewhat, which helped.
The second good thing that happened that year was near the end of the year, my body finally took a hint from my hormones and caught up with my female classmates. Yay! Less embarrassment after gym class and bye-bye chubby phase!
So... 9th grade. Ninth grade was only marginally better than 8th grade. I was spared the indignity of being bottom of the totem pole as a freshman since they'd shipped all the 7th and 8th graders up to the high school that year. Unfortunately I was not spared the indignity of still being the butt of many practical jokes. Like putting my name on a sign up sheet for an upcoming dance with one of the most popular seniors in the school. Who I didn't even know. Who didn't know me. Fun times, that.
Two good things helped save the year from being a total disaster. First, at the beginning of the year I gathered up my courage and joined one of the most popular clubs in school for girls. They did all the cool stuff in the school - sponsored dances, Unicef trick-or-treating, parties, flower sales, etc. All the popular girls joined. Many of my friends were joining. The catch was, they had an initiation to get in. A very toned down, one day version, of a sorority hazing. Basically you had to spend one whole school day wearing whatever crazy get-up they told you to wear, doing whatever the current members told you to do, acting like their slave-for-a-day, and generally embarrassing yourself for the whole school's amusement. Harmless, but humiliating. It would basically be akin to torture for me - voluntarily putting myself in the situation I tried to avoid every single day of my life - being ridiculed and made a laughingstock. The only thing that convinced me to do it was the fact that if I did it freshman year, I'd be in good company. If you waited till sophomore year, they were purposefully harder on you, especially your own classmates who joined as freshmen. (A good friend of mine waited, and yes, they were harder on her - luckily she's always been a very good sport!)
I'd hazard a guess that they've probably had to tone it down in recent years, though I checked my old high school's website and the club still exists there. Lest you think I exaggerate, I happened across the page of my assignment book that I wrote the instructions for initiation day on:
1. Make your hair into at least 5 ponytails.
2. Put an old pair of pantyhose (with the legs on) on your head, over the ponytails, cut holes to pull ponytails through.
3. Tie a different colored ribbon on each ponytail.
4. Wear your underwear outside a pair of your dad's pants or jeans, roll the legs up to the knee.
5. Wear one of your mom's shoes and one of your dad's with no socks (I had to cheat and wear both my mom's cause my dad was afraid I'd sprain an ankle with this one.)
6. Wear your dad's button down shirt or pajama top with a tie.
7. Put at least 3 colors of nail polish on your fingernails
8. Bring an old pipe or pacifier to carry in your mouth (note: our mascot was the Mountaineer - at the time he clenched a pipe between his teeth)
9. Bring a bucket to carry your books in
10. Wear 2 different gaudy earrings
11. Can't wear makeup, but bring it (so they could put it on you in strange ways)
12. Must eat in the cafeteria that day (so you could be made to sing stupid songs to the entire lunchroom at the top of your lungs)
Well. I did it. I survived it, ego mostly intact. It was slightly more fun and slightly less embarrassing than I feared. I was also quite stealthy - I hid alot. The sisters said it wasn't fair, but the rule was they had to catch you to make you do things - and they could only catch you in the hall, classrooms were off limits.
I was glad I joined. All the activities (along with band, chorus, and a few other clubs) kept me pretty busy and my mind somewhat off my loneliness. Having the courage to suffer through the initiation raised my social standing somewhat, which helped.
The second good thing that happened that year was near the end of the year, my body finally took a hint from my hormones and caught up with my female classmates. Yay! Less embarrassment after gym class and bye-bye chubby phase!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 8 - 8th Grade)
Some of you may have noticed this chapter has been a long time coming. Some of you may have wondered if there is a reason. There is. I would have to say that my 8th grade year was the second worst year of my life. The worst was the summer of 1992 - I was 24 years old and in the space of 3 short months I caught the chicken pox, had my wisdom teeth out, had braces put on (which was eventually a good thing), and my dad had open heart surgery (which was better than the alternative, but turned my life upside down nonetheless).
That was because in my 8th grade year, I Chose Sides, in the eternal battle of good and evil. I can see this now, looking back over the story of my life. At the time I was merely doing what the other 13 year olds in my Sunday School class were doing - taking my Confirmation classes in view of being confirmed as a member of my church at the end of that year.
Now, I am not going to get into an argument or Biblical exegesis of exactly how, when, or under what circumstances a person *really* becomes a Christian. It could be argued that I "really" became a Christian when I prayed at 8 years old. (Me, I think that's the likely one.) Some would argue that I "really" became a Christian when I had a believer's baptism (as opposed to the infant baptism I'd already had) at Creation Festival when I was 23 years old. Honestly I don't think God is up in heaven making tally marks on a chart. But it's quite possible that Satan is....because that was the year I began to feel the effects of spiritual warfare leveled against me in a very personal way.
An aside: I must insert here that none of this will make sense unless I explain that one of my strongest spiritual gifts is the gift of discernment. The denomination I grew up in did not really teach or emphasize spiritual gifts, especially what some folks call the "miraculous gifts". I believe God gave me this particular gift from the very first, when I was 8, but it is only in recent years that I have come to realize what it is, how it works, and what it's for. The gift of discernment differs from normal Christian discernment. All Christians are to use discernment. But the gift of discernment allows a believer to know where a person's motivations come from - from human motives, Godly motives, or evil motives - to basically know what's driving them. It also allows a believer to sense the presence of the Holy Spirit or evil spirits.
Now before anyone writes and tells me I'm mistaken, crazy, involved in the occult, or going to hell - let me reassure you that mature, stable Christian friends have confirmed the gift in me, I try always to use the gift Biblically and wisely, and the various "thorns in my side" God has allowed keep me from thinking the gift makes me All That. God controls it, I can only pray and submit to Him that I understand how to use it properly. The best way I can describe how the gift of discernment works is that it's kind of like normal human intuition amped up to the nth degree. That wonky "something's not right" feeling that people get in the pit of their stomach when in the presence of a shady character. It's feels kind of like that, only I almost always know exactly what the "something" is. (As I said, the knowledge of what's revealed is always up to God, not me.)
OK, all that to explain that it was during that year I began to notice a funny pattern to my life. I would attend my Confirmation classes, excited and eager to learn more about my faith. I really wanted to be a full member of my church. I was hoping that my on again/ off again relationship with God would become more stable and help me deal with the pressures of teasing at school better. So I'd be all pumped up with faith when I got home from class on Sunday, and then I'd have a horrible week at school, where everything I said was taken wrong and every awkward thing I did was put on display.
The more connected I felt to God, the more I read and understood my Bible, the worse these episodes would be. And then the depression came. And then the nightmares hit. And then the loneliness had me spiraling farther and farther down. I can still remember sitting in my living room trying to work on homework, or reading a book late at night (yes, I've always been a night owl) and being totally spooked out by the creepy feeling I was being watched. Suddenly I was being assaulted from all angles, day and night, and I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was that after a while, I noticed that the worst episodes happened after the best and closest times with God.
On top of all this there was the talk going on a school about how likely it was that we would lose a bunch of our classmates to Central Catholic because their parents were done with the school district's antics over rearranging the classes again.
Socially awkward, wearing glasses, needing braces, smart but shy, constantly teased, and flung into the middle of a spiritual battle not of my own choosing, I was about as miserable as a person could get. I went back and reread my diaries from this point in time - it really was that painful - I did not imagine it. On the surface mind you, I was an ordinary, normal, well-adjusted kid who happened to be a geek. But I had no spiritual support system - my church didn't teach about *personal* spiritual warfare or how to fight back, I had no friends who were with me on the journey to offer encouragement. I wore my mask I had erected very well - it never came off at school, it rarely came off at home. How I wish I had the sort of youth group I see at our church today - with kids who are on fire for Christ and understand what spiritual warfare is.
I understand now why it was happening. I thought I was a shy, awkward, geeky teenager. But God knew the gift He had given me. Satan knew too - I was a threat to him (I still find this funny - me, a threat - I'm the world's biggest cream puff! But not spiritually.) It operated in me then, though it would not be until 20 years later (in September 2001) that I would have any inkling of what God bestowed on me.
By the grace of God, I survived that year. It ended with me finally being confirmed, in my beautiful white dress, so proud and happy with my white gift Bible that I promised God I'd read every day. It ended with a mass exodus of about 25 of our classmates to Central Catholic the next year, including one of my best friends (again - what is it with the best friends here God?), who would not be there as I began my journey as a freshman in high school.
And the unseen battle raged on....
That was because in my 8th grade year, I Chose Sides, in the eternal battle of good and evil. I can see this now, looking back over the story of my life. At the time I was merely doing what the other 13 year olds in my Sunday School class were doing - taking my Confirmation classes in view of being confirmed as a member of my church at the end of that year.
Now, I am not going to get into an argument or Biblical exegesis of exactly how, when, or under what circumstances a person *really* becomes a Christian. It could be argued that I "really" became a Christian when I prayed at 8 years old. (Me, I think that's the likely one.) Some would argue that I "really" became a Christian when I had a believer's baptism (as opposed to the infant baptism I'd already had) at Creation Festival when I was 23 years old. Honestly I don't think God is up in heaven making tally marks on a chart. But it's quite possible that Satan is....because that was the year I began to feel the effects of spiritual warfare leveled against me in a very personal way.
An aside: I must insert here that none of this will make sense unless I explain that one of my strongest spiritual gifts is the gift of discernment. The denomination I grew up in did not really teach or emphasize spiritual gifts, especially what some folks call the "miraculous gifts". I believe God gave me this particular gift from the very first, when I was 8, but it is only in recent years that I have come to realize what it is, how it works, and what it's for. The gift of discernment differs from normal Christian discernment. All Christians are to use discernment. But the gift of discernment allows a believer to know where a person's motivations come from - from human motives, Godly motives, or evil motives - to basically know what's driving them. It also allows a believer to sense the presence of the Holy Spirit or evil spirits.
Now before anyone writes and tells me I'm mistaken, crazy, involved in the occult, or going to hell - let me reassure you that mature, stable Christian friends have confirmed the gift in me, I try always to use the gift Biblically and wisely, and the various "thorns in my side" God has allowed keep me from thinking the gift makes me All That. God controls it, I can only pray and submit to Him that I understand how to use it properly. The best way I can describe how the gift of discernment works is that it's kind of like normal human intuition amped up to the nth degree. That wonky "something's not right" feeling that people get in the pit of their stomach when in the presence of a shady character. It's feels kind of like that, only I almost always know exactly what the "something" is. (As I said, the knowledge of what's revealed is always up to God, not me.)
OK, all that to explain that it was during that year I began to notice a funny pattern to my life. I would attend my Confirmation classes, excited and eager to learn more about my faith. I really wanted to be a full member of my church. I was hoping that my on again/ off again relationship with God would become more stable and help me deal with the pressures of teasing at school better. So I'd be all pumped up with faith when I got home from class on Sunday, and then I'd have a horrible week at school, where everything I said was taken wrong and every awkward thing I did was put on display.
The more connected I felt to God, the more I read and understood my Bible, the worse these episodes would be. And then the depression came. And then the nightmares hit. And then the loneliness had me spiraling farther and farther down. I can still remember sitting in my living room trying to work on homework, or reading a book late at night (yes, I've always been a night owl) and being totally spooked out by the creepy feeling I was being watched. Suddenly I was being assaulted from all angles, day and night, and I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was that after a while, I noticed that the worst episodes happened after the best and closest times with God.
On top of all this there was the talk going on a school about how likely it was that we would lose a bunch of our classmates to Central Catholic because their parents were done with the school district's antics over rearranging the classes again.
Socially awkward, wearing glasses, needing braces, smart but shy, constantly teased, and flung into the middle of a spiritual battle not of my own choosing, I was about as miserable as a person could get. I went back and reread my diaries from this point in time - it really was that painful - I did not imagine it. On the surface mind you, I was an ordinary, normal, well-adjusted kid who happened to be a geek. But I had no spiritual support system - my church didn't teach about *personal* spiritual warfare or how to fight back, I had no friends who were with me on the journey to offer encouragement. I wore my mask I had erected very well - it never came off at school, it rarely came off at home. How I wish I had the sort of youth group I see at our church today - with kids who are on fire for Christ and understand what spiritual warfare is.
I understand now why it was happening. I thought I was a shy, awkward, geeky teenager. But God knew the gift He had given me. Satan knew too - I was a threat to him (I still find this funny - me, a threat - I'm the world's biggest cream puff! But not spiritually.) It operated in me then, though it would not be until 20 years later (in September 2001) that I would have any inkling of what God bestowed on me.
By the grace of God, I survived that year. It ended with me finally being confirmed, in my beautiful white dress, so proud and happy with my white gift Bible that I promised God I'd read every day. It ended with a mass exodus of about 25 of our classmates to Central Catholic the next year, including one of my best friends (again - what is it with the best friends here God?), who would not be there as I began my journey as a freshman in high school.
And the unseen battle raged on....
My mind is trying to tell me something...
if only I could figure out what?
I must have been even *more* tired than I thought after my busy week. Still a little bit groggy, I just woke up from a longer nap than I meant to take. I was catching up some on my own devotional time, trying something that our pastor suggested this morning. (We're doing a 52 week series on Jesus, and he suggested we read only the 'red letter words', the words of Christ, and let God speak to us in our own situation - not completely ignoring the context but just setting it aside temporarily, to see if we gained new insights.)
Anyway, as I was finishing up I got sleepy and put my head down for a short nap - and slept for 2 hours - and dreamed like crazy, as though I'd been REM sleep deprived for a week. I've been having these recurring theme dreams yet again. Seems like whenever I have a major life change or am trying to process something big in my personal life I have dreams of a recurring nature. Shortly after giving birth to my oldest son, I had a lot of dreams about earthquakes. Yes, I was feeling a bit buried under my circumstances and my personal ground was a little unstable (we had just moved to northern VA, I had just had my first child, and I was home all day with our little one and knew almost no one.)
So this has happened all my life, and usually if I sit and puzzle a while, these dreams give me insight to whatever I'm going through. The Bible puts great stock in dreams. Joseph had a doozy that set off the chain of events which eventually placed him 2nd in command to Pharoah over Egypt. Daniel interpreted Nebuchadnezzer's dream and was appointed ruler of Babylon.
From ancient times people have believed that dreams were important - a gift from God (or the gods, in polytheistic cultures). As a part- psychology major in college I also believe that if we look at our dreams we can gain insight into the subconscious - to see what our brains having *really* been chewing on while we've gone about our daily life.
And I am utterly stumped over this one - this "series" of dreams. This set has two main themes. Always I find myself either wandering around lost in a large series of rooms - a huge shopping mall, a city, a train station, a convention center - doesn't matter what, it's always large and confusing. And there's always a handicap of sorts - an elevator that moves like the one in Willy Wonka's that I don't understand how to use, a train I can't seem to catch, escalators that end in weird places, or something that is chasing me while I'm trying to get unlost.
Today's dream featured me lost in a gigantic mall/convention center complex in (evidently) some foreign country, trying to find my way around and the people only spoke Spanish (which I speak only a little of, pretty poorly these days cause I'm out of practice).
So.... you say, why should I care? Aren't dreams just the brain's way of organizing bits of information and filing them in their proper place in the mental files? Well, yes..... and no. I'm one of those folks who dream vivid technicolor dreams (and nightmares, erk) which I usually remember later. And after studying my own dreams over the years I've learned to tell the difference between regular old brain organizing ones (always very choppy, many "scene" changes, make no sense, etc.) and the ones that could be trying to tell me something (recurring theme, or have a very clear "storyline" from beginning to end, that I remember in great detail later).
OK, again.... WHY SHOULD I CARE? Because I've been praying about a really frustrating, knotty problem that has no solution right now. (Actually several related problems that are all tangled up together.) And when I'm in this frame of mind, I'll take all the help I can get. I firmly believe God can help and guide us through our dreams, especially if we run to Him for the insight, rather than to secular resources. (Ahem, I am human, I have in the past resorted to those, and repented of it - only God usually gets His "I told you so" in because their interpretations never really "fit".)
I will be the first to admit I have a patience problem when it comes to waiting on the Lord (stop laughing D!). It's so hard, though, when I feel like the answer is thisclose and I can't.... quite..... reach it!
Sigh.... guess I'll be doing more lost wandering in my dreams for a while.... maybe I could put in a request to visit a Welsh castle....
I must have been even *more* tired than I thought after my busy week. Still a little bit groggy, I just woke up from a longer nap than I meant to take. I was catching up some on my own devotional time, trying something that our pastor suggested this morning. (We're doing a 52 week series on Jesus, and he suggested we read only the 'red letter words', the words of Christ, and let God speak to us in our own situation - not completely ignoring the context but just setting it aside temporarily, to see if we gained new insights.)
Anyway, as I was finishing up I got sleepy and put my head down for a short nap - and slept for 2 hours - and dreamed like crazy, as though I'd been REM sleep deprived for a week. I've been having these recurring theme dreams yet again. Seems like whenever I have a major life change or am trying to process something big in my personal life I have dreams of a recurring nature. Shortly after giving birth to my oldest son, I had a lot of dreams about earthquakes. Yes, I was feeling a bit buried under my circumstances and my personal ground was a little unstable (we had just moved to northern VA, I had just had my first child, and I was home all day with our little one and knew almost no one.)
So this has happened all my life, and usually if I sit and puzzle a while, these dreams give me insight to whatever I'm going through. The Bible puts great stock in dreams. Joseph had a doozy that set off the chain of events which eventually placed him 2nd in command to Pharoah over Egypt. Daniel interpreted Nebuchadnezzer's dream and was appointed ruler of Babylon.
From ancient times people have believed that dreams were important - a gift from God (or the gods, in polytheistic cultures). As a part- psychology major in college I also believe that if we look at our dreams we can gain insight into the subconscious - to see what our brains having *really* been chewing on while we've gone about our daily life.
And I am utterly stumped over this one - this "series" of dreams. This set has two main themes. Always I find myself either wandering around lost in a large series of rooms - a huge shopping mall, a city, a train station, a convention center - doesn't matter what, it's always large and confusing. And there's always a handicap of sorts - an elevator that moves like the one in Willy Wonka's that I don't understand how to use, a train I can't seem to catch, escalators that end in weird places, or something that is chasing me while I'm trying to get unlost.
Today's dream featured me lost in a gigantic mall/convention center complex in (evidently) some foreign country, trying to find my way around and the people only spoke Spanish (which I speak only a little of, pretty poorly these days cause I'm out of practice).
So.... you say, why should I care? Aren't dreams just the brain's way of organizing bits of information and filing them in their proper place in the mental files? Well, yes..... and no. I'm one of those folks who dream vivid technicolor dreams (and nightmares, erk) which I usually remember later. And after studying my own dreams over the years I've learned to tell the difference between regular old brain organizing ones (always very choppy, many "scene" changes, make no sense, etc.) and the ones that could be trying to tell me something (recurring theme, or have a very clear "storyline" from beginning to end, that I remember in great detail later).
OK, again.... WHY SHOULD I CARE? Because I've been praying about a really frustrating, knotty problem that has no solution right now. (Actually several related problems that are all tangled up together.) And when I'm in this frame of mind, I'll take all the help I can get. I firmly believe God can help and guide us through our dreams, especially if we run to Him for the insight, rather than to secular resources. (Ahem, I am human, I have in the past resorted to those, and repented of it - only God usually gets His "I told you so" in because their interpretations never really "fit".)
I will be the first to admit I have a patience problem when it comes to waiting on the Lord (stop laughing D!). It's so hard, though, when I feel like the answer is thisclose and I can't.... quite..... reach it!
Sigh.... guess I'll be doing more lost wandering in my dreams for a while.... maybe I could put in a request to visit a Welsh castle....
Thursday, September 4, 2008
"Oh, What A Day..."
There's a Shel Silverstein poem that pretty much sums up the kind of week I've been having. It's called "What A Day." For those of you not familiar with his poems (we quote them like crazy in our family) click on this link:
http://www.qu-i-x.com/aday.html (you have to see the illustration, it's priceless....)
It hasn't been a bad week. But it's been a crazy one. On the heels of a wonderful relaxing visit with our dear friends we get to see way too seldom I jumped immediately into School Preparations.
Doesn't *sound* intimidating does it? But between organizing whose school supplies were whose, finding clean clothes that still fit (I swear they all grew 3 inches this summer), shoes that were appropriate (i.e. not flipflops) and also fit, finding and labeling backpacks, lunch bags, jackets, buying suitable lunch box fare (healthy snacks, boxed juice), getting everyone to bed on time, getting everyone *up* on time, getting them both on the right bus at the right time, waiting for dear son's bus *forever*, both coming and going, because they tried a new system this year (and it failed, they're going back to the old one), running the put off errands, caring for the toddler who now misses his brother and sister all day, buying groceries (still not restocked from the fridge disaster), doing many of husband's jobs because husband has been putting in 14 hour days this week, and sleeping about 4 hours a night - well, I feel like I've been in a triathalon. Or more like a dodecathalon (a dodecahedron has 10 sides....geek moment, sorry). Yikes, I'm exhausted.
And then Friday night I drove up to my friend D's house to help her paint a stage set. Well, we had a great time catching up, but the painting didn't go so well. A hint....never buy cheap spray paint, you will practically asphyxiate yourself before you get your project finished. I'm now researching cheap effective paint for stage set design (suggestions, anyone?)
Oh, and today I took my daughter to get a haircut.....in the middle of a hurricane. Well, a tropical storm. Whatever you call it, it was a deluge from about noon until suppertime. So after we got home (safely, thank goodness....and her hair looks really cute!) I declared it a Hurricane Day and we officially did NOTHING. We were complete and utter couch potatoes for the whole afternoon. I took a nap.....and we ordered Chinese food for supper. Daughter and I went to get it and as we drove home in freshly washed sunny skies, with the windows wide open, the beautiful clean breeze was like a benediction prayer on my really busy week.
http://www.qu-i-x.com/aday.html (you have to see the illustration, it's priceless....)
It hasn't been a bad week. But it's been a crazy one. On the heels of a wonderful relaxing visit with our dear friends we get to see way too seldom I jumped immediately into School Preparations.
Doesn't *sound* intimidating does it? But between organizing whose school supplies were whose, finding clean clothes that still fit (I swear they all grew 3 inches this summer), shoes that were appropriate (i.e. not flipflops) and also fit, finding and labeling backpacks, lunch bags, jackets, buying suitable lunch box fare (healthy snacks, boxed juice), getting everyone to bed on time, getting everyone *up* on time, getting them both on the right bus at the right time, waiting for dear son's bus *forever*, both coming and going, because they tried a new system this year (and it failed, they're going back to the old one), running the put off errands, caring for the toddler who now misses his brother and sister all day, buying groceries (still not restocked from the fridge disaster), doing many of husband's jobs because husband has been putting in 14 hour days this week, and sleeping about 4 hours a night - well, I feel like I've been in a triathalon. Or more like a dodecathalon (a dodecahedron has 10 sides....geek moment, sorry). Yikes, I'm exhausted.
And then Friday night I drove up to my friend D's house to help her paint a stage set. Well, we had a great time catching up, but the painting didn't go so well. A hint....never buy cheap spray paint, you will practically asphyxiate yourself before you get your project finished. I'm now researching cheap effective paint for stage set design (suggestions, anyone?)
Oh, and today I took my daughter to get a haircut.....in the middle of a hurricane. Well, a tropical storm. Whatever you call it, it was a deluge from about noon until suppertime. So after we got home (safely, thank goodness....and her hair looks really cute!) I declared it a Hurricane Day and we officially did NOTHING. We were complete and utter couch potatoes for the whole afternoon. I took a nap.....and we ordered Chinese food for supper. Daughter and I went to get it and as we drove home in freshly washed sunny skies, with the windows wide open, the beautiful clean breeze was like a benediction prayer on my really busy week.
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