Bathroom stalls

   It is difficult to love people when they don't know that you do. (I sound like the love-sick 14 year old version of myself. This is oh so different than it used to be. haha)

I mean, how do you interfere into people's lives? People who I watch with hope. People who I pray for. People who I watch. All without their knowing. Young girls in dangerous relationships. Men throwing themselves to things that will disintegrate sooner than they think. Taking risks with their lives. Except, it cannot rightly be called a "risk" because if they just looked around themselves, they would see the cause-and-effect law that has shaped the lives of countless before them. 

  Sometimes humans act proud of the fact that they "learn the hard way". You don't have to. Smart people are smart because they don't. It's not poetic or good for plot development. It hurts.

  I saw scrawled onto a bathroom wall next to confessions of love and hatred, "Follow your heart more."  I wonder what she meant. (I assume "she" because I was in the "she" stall.) Usually when people of my age group make statements like that they mean, "Be more spontaneous. Experiment. Don't think things through so much. " or, "Throw off your elder's recommendations. They are irrelevant now in this new season. Take a risk and give yourself to the "bad boy."

 

I always find it ironic that young people learn their lessons from the inside of bathroom stalls.

Perhaps this is the inside of a bathroom stall for me. I want to tell people to their face that I see the direction they are walking in. I am afraid that they will accuse me of judging them. (A Christian's worst fear. Lame. Some people die for what they believe.) 

They don't know that I love them. God, help me show them. Help me be bold.

ummm. no title today.

A friend of mine recently had a dream that some people in her life told her she had to go inside a building for a short time, but eventually she realized that they had trapped her there. She began to resist and in response they tried to put her in a straight jacket. Amazingly enough, at the season of life that she is in, the dream made perfect sense to her. 

Here was her interpretation: sometimes the pressures and expectations of life make demands on us, telling us to "fit in" and do everything the same way as everyone else. Unfortunately often when we resist, we are dubbed "crazy".

I remember between the age 17 - 18 I would regularly pray, "God, please don't let me have an average, normal life. I want more than the status quo."

On Saturday morning I will get out of my standard size bed that morning, feed my children their breakfast, and pretty much follow the same routine as I do each day. Small variations as always. Then I will head to Ocean Breeze where I will be trained to be a travel agent so that I can work a predictable job, from home and from the office. Lovely, eh? This fall I will also volunteer with the PG Interns discipleship school at our church. I'm very excited about all this. Where is this train heading? I'm thinking about how a passerby (even myself if I'm not careful) may view my life as average. Basement suite. Honda Civic. Cell phone. Sandals. Facebook. Hoodies. Dinner plans. 

Life is more than what is seen though, eh?

Sometimes I feel heavy clouds wanting to rest over me. No quitting permitted. My heart is not settling in a normal place, but is desiring truth and strength. As Pilate longingly asked Jesus, "What is truth?"

I think he was saying, "Please break through my meaninglessness and tell me that there is an answer. Everyone tells me that there are no absolutes and that I can interpret as I please. That makes the world one great uncertainty. Are You an absolute?"

I feel so grateful to this Heavenly Father who has draped His Righteousness coat over me. Lending me His so that I can learn to walk as I should. Following His movements. Oh, I am not normal. I can soar when all others are grounded. That's pretty powerful.

Upcoming Documentary

Before falling asleep last night, I had a short chain reaction of thoughts set off in my mind. Images injected into my mind over the last few weeks drifted through. My husband and I as of late, have been watching historical documentaries that we've checked out from the library. Seeing faces, hearing peoples' stories and learning new details about the events that I had dutifully studied in my high school years. (Sadly, it wasn't until my last year of school that I discovered that I enjoy learning. It was then that a desire grew in me to never stop gaining knowledge and perspective.) Genocide in Rwanda. WWII on the home front. Mendela in South Africa. Auschwitz.
Last night we attempted to watch Schindler's List, but due to a over-heated crying child who wouldn't go to sleep, we turned it off. We definitely didn't want those images filling his heart when he has no discernment about what was going on.
In the dvds that we have watched in these last few weeks, a common trend has been the brutality of one group of humans to another. Sometimes retaliation occurs; sometimes not. At first I felt shock. In the one recording about Rwanda, someone mentioned that while these 800,000 plus individuals were being murdered, a contemporary story was the murder trial of O.J. Simpson. Bryan and I remember seeing that in the news, but neither of us remember hearing anything about Rwanda. I feel shock at our "pick and choose" attitude about what gets attention.
I've also felt a sick feeling when I realize that these types of tragedies are not rare, but rather are quite common throughout history. One group looks at another and thinks, "How COULD they do such a thing?" Yet, there are so many divisions all around us. It appears innocent at first, but human reasoning eventually leads the stronger, or the shrewder, into domination of the "lesser".
Native Americans. African Americans. Jews. Actions are excused because of the mindset that they are less valueable; less human.
Follow me now to the land of political incorrectness now when I tell you what I thought about last night. Every day fetuses are being killed within the wombs of their mothers. Silently. Make an appointment. Drop in clinic. No problem. Extending a hand to help you out of that complex situation that you most certainly are in.
If that fetus were to grow to full size and be born, it would be quite costly. To your lifestyle and to your bank account. Not denying that. They are less than human anyways.
As I am watching documentaries of injustice, I wonder, "Would I be someone who would stand up against that? Would I have risked my life and my reputation?"
Hmmm. DVD finished. Power off. Brush teeth. Go to sleep.
50 years from now, will there be a documentary about this genocide?

"Mere Christianity" book review pt 1

I've been reading "Mere Christianity" by C.S. Lewis this week. I will record some of my thoughts on what I'm reading. 

I have believed Lewis to be a genius ever since I read "The Chronicles of Narnia" about 4 years ago. (Yes, I loved before the movies came out). He brings such imagination and depth that I felt rejuvenated by reading that fictional work. "Mere Christianity" has been sitting on my shelf for a few years now. It is more like an essay, so it doesn't have the same "sit-with-a-cup-of-hot-chocolate-and-wander-into-another-world" feel. However, I've been impressed by his down to earth way of describing the invisible realm.

This book is actually a collection of the different talks that Lewis was asked to share over the radio during WWII. At that time, probably because of the increased awareness of the inevitability of death, people were curious, "What do Christians believe?" So, Lewis described it as best as he could. It is intriguing to see the influence that widespread war was having on media.

So, the first part is simply called, "Right and Wrong as a Clue to the Meaning of the Universe".

Lewis discusses how the simple fact that humans are aware of a "greater good" brings into question, "Where did this Moral Law come from?" (Historically it used to be called "Law of Nature".)

When the Moral Law is referred to, it is not a "law" in the traditional sense. It is much different than the Law of Gravity, because that Law can be seen consistently and scientifically. If an outside source was to study us, as we study animals or insects with no communication or inside scoop, that studier would not be able to report on this Moral Law. It really is not the FACTS of what humans DO, but rather what we feel we OUGHT to do. The Moral Law is an invisible one inside of us.

If one tried to deny this law, simply accuse someone of breaking it and the excuses will begin to pour out. As a general rule we all have an understanding that we should not break promises or take things that don't belong to us, among other things, though none of us follow these standards perfectly. When we break our standard, internal excuses begin.

Lewis mentions that this Moral Law is generally the same in all countries and ages. Some examples are given:

     - you may be allowed only 1 wife or the rule may be 3 or 4 wives somewhere else, but we all know that you can't go around taking any woman that you want.

     - there is a general understanding that kindness is admired. Whether you owe it only to your family or to the whole world is where the difference lies, but all agree that to some extent selflessness is admirable.

He brings up the issue, "What is the difference between the Moral Law and herd instincts that have developed within us?" I believe that by saying "herd instincts" he means the internal rules that we have grown to follow so that we can all be adaptable and survive!

- Common instincts are the drive for food, for self-preservation, for sex, or to be maternal. The difference is that the Moral Law is stronger than any one of our instincts and actually helps us to govern which instinct is correct at that moment. No instinct is right all of the time, nor can they be trusted 100%. It sometimes (often) will even direct us to do something CONTRARY to what our instincts are telling us to do. (Help someone though it puts ourself in danger, not go take the food though we are hungry, not to go make love to any girl you want to - funny for me to write that one, but he refers to this instinct bluntly, so I will too!)

 The analogy is given that herd instincts are the keys on a piano, but the Moral Law is like a sheet of music that tells us which ones to play at a given time.

At one point he respectfully reminds us that though science is valuable and necessary, it simply does not have the authority to answer the question "Is there something more than what we see?" The question is not scientific because the answer cannot be found by observing or by measuring data. The one extra help that we have to answer this question is what we sense inside of us. We do not only OBSERVE men, we ARE men. 

Where did this Moral Law come from? If we all are aware that there is a way that we SHOULD do things, but are not able to maintain it, why do we all know it and care about it? Why do we all make such a fuss if we are "wronged" and make such excuses as to why we didn't have to follow the rules in this one particular situation? Here Lewis declares that all he has brought us to at this point is that there must be a "Somebody", a "Greater Power." (He thinks that this greater power is most like a mind, so he refers to it as "Somebody") So, if this Somebody has put a Moral Law around us, in us, and we do not follow it, then we are guilty of breaking his rules. What does that mean for us?

I will include two quotes, and then I'm done for today.

pg. 29

"We have two bits of evidence about the Somebody. One is the universe that He has made. If we used that as our only clue, then I think we would have to conclude that He was a great artist (for the universe is a very beautiful place) but also that He is quite merciless and no friend to man (for the universe is a very dangerous and terrifying place). The other bit of evidence is that Moral Law which He has put in our minds. And this is a better bit of evidence than the other, because it is inside information. You find out more about God from the Moral Law than from the universe in general just as you find out more about a man by listening to his conversation than by looking at a house he has built."

pg. 31

"Christianity simply does not make sense until you have faced the sort of facts that I have been describing. Christianity tells people to repent and promises forgiveness. It therefore has nothing (as far as I know) to say to people who do not know they have done anything to repent of and who do not feel that they need any forgiveness. It is after you have realized that there is a real Moral Law and a Power behind the law, and that you have broken that law and put yourself wrong with that Power - it is after all this, and not a moment sooner, that Christianity begins to talk."

The Inevitable Empty Nest

I have four little eyes watching me right now. They are drinking their bottles and finding me fascinating. Lately one of my guys has become more possessive of me, his mother. When upset, I seem to be the one who can comfort him more than others. Before bed, he needs a little snuggle with me. I'm flattered.

  Here is what I have been thinking. Over the years, as my desires began to include domestic matters, I would wonder, "What will my children be like?", "What type of mother will I be?" On occasion, I am not ashamed to admit, I would stand in front of a mirror with a pillow under my shirt to see how pregnancy would look on me. (I am unashamed, because I'm almost certain each estrogen-ridden individual has done the same at one point or another.) Then, the day came when I really BECAME a mother. I carried them, hidden from the world. I sensed their movements first and felt the responsibility to eat, exercise, and rest for their sake. I morphed from a woman, into a mother. When people saw me, they didn't see me any longer, but a (largely) pregnant lady.

  And now, the boys are here. Because so much of my day revolves around them, I find that so much of my identity is found in them. I am a mother of twins. My love is deeply rooted in the core of me and it is difficult to remember a life without them.

  Since they were born, I've had the awareness that my time with them is short. I am savoring the time, but mindful that part of our responsibility is to encourage and challenge them, for one day they will have to fly away and leave our nest. Their identity must surely not be, "Sons of Bryan and Bonnie." or else they will be forever in a shadow land.

 They have a desire for honor and adventure in their blood, for they are Seedlings of Men. I remember that the dreams I dreamt while safe under my parent's roof rarely included my parents. My desires had to be found somewhere other than where I had come from.

As the boys grow they will not dream of conquering kingdoms and slaying dragons for me. The tragic gift of motherhood: to offer all with the goal of seeing your children offer all to someone else.

Just as it would not be healthy for my boys to find their identity solely in me, I cannot find my identity solely in them. Keep asking questions, Bonnie. Keep inquiring, "What is life really about?" "What am I alive for right now?" Never stop searching, because only then can answers be revealed. I will not fall apart when my babies become men. I will perhaps cry. I guess I will have to wait and see. There is no way to predict what that day will be like, but I want to build strong until that point comes.

Today

The tornado blew through. Thought it would mean that my house would be relocated. Tragic theme music plays and a witch on a bicycle flies by my window. Ruby slippers in my possession and the world is colorful, but I'm not home. 

Thought that would be the next scene. But, actually, I think that I'm more home than I used to be. 

Amazing how God prepares me so that I don't ever go into metaphorical cardiac arrest. I am not crying. I didn't digress back to adolescent mind-space. Miraculous. 

I don't think you know what I'm talking about. That is intentional. I'll keep it that way.

I will expose that I learned again how easy it is for me to take for granted the one whom I love the most. The one who loves me the most. 

Let all others be second.

The reality of today must overshadow even the most golden memories.

Good 'ol Date Night

Rarely does a generation have enough foresight to look down the road to see what will become of humanity with "self" as the cruel conductor. 

I started writing this blog because of the things I saw one night when my husband and I went on a sweet little date to the sweet little rodeo. We were greeted at the entrance by a man who yelled to us, "Don't smoke pot here; they'll arrest you."         Thanks for the tip.

We walked through the fairgrounds dodging husky voiced men who encouraged us to come challenge our skills to win a stuffed animal. Stuffed animals that would have smelled like hot dogs, popcorn, and maybe even travel grease. Cowboy hats were being sold everywhere, because, you see, at the rodeo, everyone suddenly discovers their hidden longing for riding in open plains, caring for cattle, singing over an open fire, and drinking far too much at an open beer garden. Monster truck, huge snakes, ferris wheel, and those little donuts.

As we wandered, I wondered, "Where do all these people come from? Do they all actually love the rodeo? Is it rather that they love crowds and noise and opportunities for conflicts and hook ups?"

Women passed by, prostituting themselves. Selling skin, paid for by glances that would numb their hunger for a moment. The men gladly bought. The children ran from exhibit to game to ride, oblivious to the social parade around them. The mother in me knew that those little babies weren't exactly going to be snuggled in pj's and tucked in tight anytime soon.

Throughout the show, Bryan and I kept staring into each others eyes, kissing and joking to try to keep the mood light, but as the sun tripped and fell, our hearts grew heavier. By the end of the show we had run out of jokes. We held hands as Bryan guided me through the crowds.

So many people pretending to be happy. Such soured expressions and so much growling and jostling for position. Anger erupted as alcohol increased. Through a loud speaker, a female employee for the BudLight beer garden called out. "I see you all walking by looking at us. I know you want to be in here! This is where the party is at." I wondered if anyone else could hear her tone of voice and how forced she sounded.

As we were leaving the fair grounds two young men walked out near us, trailed by a young lady trying to keep up. One of the guys started yelling obscene things to the police who were acting as security that night. 

"Let's go break stuff and steal cars!" he said.

"Yeah. haha stuff and cars!" his shadow echoed.

"Let's go smoke pot and rape women!"

"Yeah. hahah pot and women!"

I could see that the first wanted to appear fearless in the eyes of the world and that the second desired to belong somewhere. The trailing girl. We looked at each other and she made it clear that she didn't approve of what her boyfriend and his friend were saying, but...where else was she supposed to go? The instigator would pull her close for a few sloppy kisses and grabs, then just as quickly walk away and forget her presence.

Humanity does not do what is not in it's nature to do. "The Selfish Gene" is a book by Richard Dawkins. According to some, it is his phenomenal discovery of evolutionary processes down to the building blocks of biology. Within organisms, genes work selfishly to guarantee their own survival. They will do anything to be stronger, bigger, quicker, more adaptable so that they can dominate. Each gene looking out for its own well-being. There are times when a gene will give of itself, if in the long run the action will promote its own advance. (For instance, a mother offers herself for the sake of her children, but in the long run, her own genes will multiply and grow in the bodies of those children.)

Our genes may have learned how to thrive, but our souls sure seem to be missing something. 

 Humans are foolish creatures, destroying themselves slowly through substance abuses and other harmful behaviors that are just as lethal, but somehow more socially acceptable. Children follow their parents down the trodden pathway of moral deterioration, who also walked behind their (oftentimes) well-meaning parents. And as each generation passes by, those paths become ruts, become ditches, become pits. Everyone walks in the same direction.

 Faithfulness and kindness are traded in for self-gratification. At first only those things which don't hurt others are acceptable, but as time passes, it becomes every man for himself. To some extent, it has to be this way because everyone else is living with the same agenda. Self-gratification turns into self-preservation.

  When the moral compass in a civilization has lost true north, the infrastructure crumbles. One of two things occur.

Domination by another empire. Or resuscitation of the conscience.

And the scenario has repeated it self over and over again. A broken record.

I may sound it, but I am far from hopeless. Resuscitation is possible because it happened to me.

O wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?

When we were utterly helpless, Christ came at just the right time and died for us sinners. Now, most people would not be willing to die for an upright person, though someone might perhaps be willing to die for a person who is especially good. But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.

People vs. Couches

I've been thinking so very much about housework lately. Not in the sense of letting my To Do list digest me for lunch, but in how to have a priority shift so that I can be a free woman, not a slave. A few weeks ago I was having a miniature meltdown. I was crying and praying, "God, I do not have what it takes to be a mom. I can't keep up." It felt like I was treading water, trying to keep my head above. Too much to do. Days too short to accomplish everything, yet at the same time, too long because I couldn't wait for evening when I could lay my head on a cotton-filled cloud.

 As I knelt there in my living room, I felt the Holy Spirit say to me, "I never said, 'Thou shalt have a clean kitchen." I could feel His gentleness take a layer of weight off my back, yet I had to say it again, "I don't have what it takes..."

And He confidently responded, "Can you look your son in the face and tell him that he is valuable?"

Yes. I can do that. 

I feel like that interaction with His mindset has been a gust of wind carrying my heart further than any human words ever could. Divine interference. Like an echo, I have heard similar wisdom from other women that I respect. One said, "If all you do is clean your house for 30 years, do you know what you will have at the end of 30 years?....A clean house. That's it."

Another lady was telling me about how she had to make a mental shift when she got new couches. She loved her couches so much that she was starting to be angry at sticky-fingered children and sharp-clawed cats. She was becoming strict, and even not inviting certain people over. Then she decided to live with a new reality: people are more important than couches.

I thought that was a most beautiful thing to say. People are more important than couches. Riches and possessions are fleeting and are so easily damaged. What matters are hearts and souls.

People and moments and memories and laughing are the expressions of love which is the currency of another kingdom. Longer lasting than a swept floor and a clear counter. Obvious, yet too easily shadowed in a world of Better Home magazines. Another friend shared a quote with me, "If you want to see me, stop by anytime. If you want to see a clean house, make an appointment." I've been thinking lately that I would love to send out a general invitation that would allow people to call when they are 2 minutes away and say "I'm coming over!" And then, what you see is what you get. You are more important than my image. If you need me, my laundry can wait. I will learn to slow down and look in people's eyes.

We bought new couches and part of me hopes one of the boys spits up on them soon. Help me to remember this, Lord.

thoughts on friendship (pt 2)

For most of my school age years, I was home schooled. However, kindergarten was the one year that I experienced amidst the throngs. Good experience. Water station. Sand station. Playing house. Learning basic human anatomy. Coloring contests. Little carpets to sit on. One time when an ambulance came and the paramedics taught us for a while. I remember feeling awed that "AMBULANCE" was spelled "ECNALUBMA"so that cars ahead of it in traffic could see it spelled correctly in their rear view mirror. genius. 

 Anyways, all these childhood-friendship experiences shaped my outlook. I had 5 main friends. 

Aleisha - certifiably my best friend. I was aware that she was a tad bit "cooler" than me. I think because she wasn't as friendly or extroverted as I was, so she had an air of mystery to her. We would play on the tire swing in her backyard and sit together in class.

Ben and Joel - fraternal twins who I'm certain both had a little crush on me. Joel was blonde, fair skinned and a little more outgoing. Ben looked Mexican, if I remember correctly and was kind of shy. When I would go play at their house, they taught me how to climb the inside of door frames.

Diane - This petite blonde girl came to the school later in the year. She was drawn to me pretty quickly and though she was perky and cute, I remember feeling a bit guilty because she seemed to like me more than I liked her.

Adrianne -  She had big soft eyes and a gentle spirit to match her voice. I think that we could have become better friends if we had had more time. I wonder if she would have been a kindred spirit.

So I learned,

5. Friends save spots for each other and go to each other's houses after school. Close friends sit the closest beside you at your birthday party.

A couple years later, there was a friend in my life who would aggressively try to be my friend. Phone calls, invitations to play, and following me around. I was smothered, and felt horrible because I knew that I didn't love her like she wanted me to. I didn't want to hurt her, but I had to confess.

I watched as her countenance fell and the sparkle in her eye faded. I really tried to be gentle and kind, but there is no fun way to say what I said. 

She never pursued me again. I was relieved, but now had a nagging fear:

"What if I am smothering people and they aren't telling me to avoid hurting my feelings?"

6. Don't expect friendships to grow if you put too much pressure on them to do so.

7. Don't be needy or you may push others away.

It was a little later in life that the "best friend/forever friend" bracelets and necklaces gained momentum. I would have half a heart around my throat and you would have the other half. The problem was, I gave out 2 or 3, and was given another 3 or 4. 

For some reason it was easier for me to guarantee a "forever" friendship, because that didn't specify to what depth our friendship would be. As I'd already learned, sometimes you can live in different cities and only see your friend once or twice a year and that is an acceptable definition of meaningful friendship. But, in my mind, to be a "Best" friend meant continual updates and every weekend commitment. I wanted to believe that it would happen, but I was doubtful. Just recently I found some of those cheap metal promises and hesitantly threw them out. I don't see my "Forever Best Friends" much anymore. Maybe once or twice a year. I'm not upset about it; I'm just observing.

8. The term "best friend" is over-rated and over-used. It is more valuable and necessary to have a friend that does all the things that a best friend should, than to have someone whom you can simply call your "bestest".

9. Even the greatest of intentions doesn't guarantee commitment in the future. Don't be angry about it.

I'm trying to explore. This may be what I think, but it may not be true or loving. I'm willing to change.

my doctrine of friendship (pt 1)

The doctrine of friendship is not often discussed, and whether people could write a creed or not, their behavior is affected by what they believe to be true.

My parents have some friends that they've had since before they were married. Our families have such wonderful memories. I remember well the feeling in my heart after a long day of spending time together. If I called too much attention to myself, either I would be sent to sleep in a bedroom at their house, or else we would all have to leave. I would be as invisible as possible, because I knew that if the hour was late enough and the coffee was strong enough, the adults would start to reminisce with teasing and laughter erupting.

 I can see in my mind us sitting around the kitchen table as stories pour out. I've heard them all before, but if I ask the right questions, I might glean one more detail. I am leaning with my arms folded on the edge. My chin resting on my arms. My heart is glowing as I see my parents remembering. Somehow I feel safer and I see again that my parents are more than "Mom" and "Dad". 

And I am inhaling my first doctrine of friendship.

1. Friends are people you can see once or twice a year and pick up right where you left off.

2. Friends have seen you embarrass yourself and laugh with you about it.

3. Friends invite you into their homes and let you eat their food.

4. Friends let you stay until way past "polite" and are more important than sleep.

not much

I learned a new word last week as I was studying a new topic. Been working the word over in my head, practicing the pronunciation for all these days. I have lots of hovering thoughts. One more piece and I may have a revelation to alter how I live. On the verge. On the verge. Not only a revelation, but perhaps an idea about a shadow of the spiritual being cast in the area of genetics. On the verge.
For tonight, for the record, I will let you know that I love when self-motivation leads me to study things that I've never known about before. I don't often study one thing with enthusiasm, but I love knowing a little about a lot of things.
I also often forget what I learned. Maybe I should work on that. Retaining information. But if I forget, then I can always discover it again. When that happens, I have a strange deja vu feeling. I'll be with my husband or a friend and I'll hear myself say, "Oh yeah...I remember reading about that. Something about...hmmm...maybe....no never mind. I don't know."
Want to know what the word is that I learned? Altruistic. Altruism. From the Latin "alter" meaning "other". I think. If I retained correctly.
I for sure remember that it means "selfless". Offering one's well-being for the sake of another. Good word to have bouncing around my head, eh?

Batteries and Duct Tape.

Some movies are like cheap pudding that you may enjoy but you would never remember or care to talk about the next day. Other movies are more along the lines of cheesecake, in that as I eat it, I savor and let it sit in my mouth for a couple seconds before I swallow. Creamy. Taking small bites so that it lasts a bit longer. Having conversation, but glad that I have a little fork.

I have been thinking about a particular movie all week long. It wasn't preachy, but rather unassuming. The story line involves an orphaned 7 year old boy who, because he is dealing with feelings of abandonment, has developed an unusual defense mechanism. He pretends that he is from another planet and is visiting earth "on a mission." He explains to his newly adopted dad that "they" are coming back to get him and that his mission is nearly over and then, he'll have to be going. Rather than being left again, he will be the one leaving.

Part of his getup is a weighted belt that resists Mars' gravitational pull on him; it keeps him from floating away. Giant batteries held together with duct tape. He knows what he is doing. He is in control. He knows exactly what is going on.

At the end of the movie, the dad says (paraphrased) "Sometimes we forget that children really have just arrived on this planet and are trying their best to learn what being a human is all about." That was my favorite part because it not only reminds me that my little guys are easily influenced by my outlook on life, but also, that all of us are trying to learn what it is to be human.

As I'm savoring this piece of dessert tonight, I'm thinking about how often I wear my own version of a weighted-gravity belt. My own defense mechanisms to make it look like I am in control. You won't have a chance to reject me, because I'm already so busy that I may have to reject you. I am overemphasizing my point with strong words, but people do this.

 I think I refuse to take risks in friendships for fear that my feelings are not reciprocated. There are some people in my life whom I love so tremendously, but I don't want to tell them that. For a few reasons.

1. I may make them feel awkward or guilty for not loving me to the same extent.

2. I may find out that they do not love me to the same extent.

Yeah, I think those are my only reasons.

Oh, here's another one.

3. I don't want to hurt or disappoint someone, because I may feel that love, but I don't know how to follow up with adequate or faithful expressions of love. Then I just look like someone who throws words around and "loves" anyone.

When Bryan and I began to love each other, he told me he would be my friend for forever. It has whispered confidence to me in the middle of a fearful day. I'm so glad that we are now married because I feel safe to tell him that I love him every day without fear that I'm going to smother him. I know that he WANTS to hear it every day. He married me, after all.

Is there a way to have friendships where I can trust that the other person wants my love? And that I can trust that they value me? I don't want to play hard to get with people. Waiting until they offer enough of their assurances of friendships before I open my heart to them?

Perhaps it just takes time and patience to have strong friendships. It takes working and playing side by side. Sweating effort and crying fears. Asking for the other's GPS to make it through your maze. Doing what I am good at and letting them do what they are good at. Looking at people long enough to recognize the surprising treasure in their field.

Deliberation now begins.

Lining up for Samples

   I feel like I can breathe again. This weekend my attitude was in severe rebellion. I have moderately bad attitudes on occasion that I normally am able to corner and hogtie and punch into submission after only a short period of time. This one, however, was a doosie. I can go into the "whys" some other time when I have the time to go through the possibilities, but that is not what I'm here to write about today.

  The fog has passed and now I lie here shaking my head at my inner struggles, because I can't even remember what the big deal was. Anyways, Saturday afternoon my husband took care of the boys while I headed out for grocery shopping. 

Knowing vaguely what was going on, he said, "Take as much time as you need." 

I quipped back, "Okay, see you tomorrow."

Off to Costco. Just needed some aisles to get lost in and some strangers to look past me and let me be alone in the middle of a crowd. As you all know, Costco is the magical land of thousand foot ceilings. Where else can you buy a bucket of 5 cent candies, a box of 228 Kirkland diapers, a bag of frozen strawberries, enough toilet paper to last 8 months, a 4-pk of deoderant, snap peas, or even fresh flowers if you want? At the end of some aisles there are also stands where free snacks are given away. Protein bars, trail mix, tortilla chips, cream puffs, or pasta all in convenient miniature muffin liners.

  Believe it or not, this Saturday I didn't really feel like sampling many items. However, I did happen to walk by one stand where a red-vested woman was cutting up a pizza. It smelled delicious, so I figured it was worth the wait. I lingered about 4 feet away. A few people were clearly there before I was so I was giving them their space. Common social standards. As fast as the woman could place the bite-size pieces out, they were snatched away with "thank you"s and even polite "Oh, how much is this one?" to make it seem like they are going to make a purchase and not just mooch the food. (I know, because I myself have done it.) I inched my way forward to take a piece for myself, letting a few kids get in there ahead of me. Not a big deal - kids love free food too much to understand the principle of, "first come, first serve." I understood.

  But THEN. A man, around 60 years old with a braid of hair and a black leather vest walks up. He makes quick eye contact with me and hovers in, ready to swoop up the next piece that is offered. I couldn't believe it! He saw me there and he was going to budge in front of me! How rude and immature. 

As he leaned in, I saw the guilt hit and he started to make excuses. "Oh, were you in line here? I thought you were waiting for someone."

"Waiting for someone?!? How lame." I thought to myself, "Well, I'm going to be the nice one here and pretend that I don't care. I'll be gracious and make him feel like a jerk." 

"Oh no - you go ahead there." I said to him with a smile.

The lady serving us looked at me with a knowing glance. Good. She saw that an injustice had occurred against me. 

The pizza sample was delicious. Probably just as good as the piece he ate.

As I walked away, guilt hit me in the face. Apparently it doesn't take much for Bonnie's kind little heart to turn sour. Just a little Costco sample-sized lineup. As I walked around Costco, and later at Walmart, I kept shocking myself with my judgmental responses and inability to be kind no matter how hard I tried.

When I got home that afternoon, I explained to my one friend on the phone, "I hoped that things would get better by getting out of the house and having a change of environment, but apparently, the problem is inside of me."

 This all reminded me: there is no outward "environmental" change that could possibly remedy the diseased, bitter heart of humanity. No educational experience, no 3-month tour of Europe to "find yourself", no self-help book or DVD series. No promotion or position. Not marriage, or divorce, or the addition of children. Distraction only works for a little while because the problem is within ourselves. The problem is mankind's addiction to selfishness.

 This is exactly why God had to come to earth as man and lay His life down as a sacrifice. He HAD to first surrender to the power of death paying the penalty for us because we broke His law. But then he flexed and burst from death back into life and suddenly the tables were turned. Now death had to bow to life.

And He graciously offers us a miraculous regeneration so that we don't have to simply rein in our tempers, addictions, or selfish motives. He transplants life into the soil of our insides so that His ways can grow within us.

Like I said, I don't exactly know why I had such a dangerous weekend, but it seemed that after I saw things in perspective again, I was able to surrender to the life He was offering me and peace came back.

I can never be "good enough" on my own, but He offers me life.

Alphabet Soup

Alphabet soup by the bucketloads,

the ingredients for expression, but a jumble of an offering at this point.

Letters placed together make words. Words arranged correctly create thoughts.

I would give you all my thoughts, but at this point, they don't make sense.

Can you decipher?

Others' gifts look lovely - they've traced it in gold.

My gift feels like I dropped it in the mud; a streak of dirt across my cheek.

My ponytail falling out and my knuckles banged up.

Knock on your door. Because I know that I should come, at the very least.

Here it is. After all this time, this is all I can come up with.

My eyes beg, "Please tell me its okay."

Now I see, pride is on my shirt.

I never impressed you before. I don't impress you now.

You see through it all. You appreciate my widow's mite if I don't pretend to be rich and sophisticated.

Fall apart in front of you. This is your whole point. Not me. you.

I forget to see your swaddling clothes. Your crown of pain. Your scars. 

They are the important part. 

You are the important part of this whole equation.

Schmamuel and Micah-Man

When the boys were first born, I read a quote that has influenced my view on these last few months.

Anna Quindlen - "The biggest mistake I made (as a parent) is the one that most of us make....I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture (of my three children) sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less." (Loud and Clear, 2004, 10-11)

While I was pregnant I had so many questions about how I would cope with the responsibilities of two infants. It definitely took some getting used to and during some of those middle-of-the-night hours, with blurry vision and fatigued mind I would robotically perform the motherhood-tasks. Then the quote that I included would come to mind and would fuel me as I remembered that those moments are so precious and they pass by so quickly. So I would hesitate to have a few more seconds of a snuggle before putting the bundled boy back into his crib.

  I haven't done it perfectly by any means, but I am proud of the fact that I can remember quite a few times that I've come into the moment and stored it in my heart rather than rushing back to bed to savor those extra seconds of sleep.

People often ask me, "What is it like having twins?" I don't know really how to answer them. I often tell them what I think they are expecting to hear. "Busy." I say. Truth, but I don't have time to tell them everything.

They are not "the twins" to me. They are my boys. Samuel and Micah. Schmamuel and Micah-Man. Bubble and Monkey. Little goofs who enjoy when the sound "g" comes up in conversation. They squirm with delight when I come in their rooms to get them after a nap. Stuffed animals don't stand a chance against their iron grip and their gnawing power. Their little socks fall off all of the time and their bald spots are prominent. They are ticklish under their chins and they open their mouth wide in a smile when they are lifted up into the air. 

  Last night the boys both slept 11 hours through the night. A miracle! But I feel a tiny bit of sadness today because I know they are going to quickly morph from infants to toddlers and then toddlers to children. I will try my best to watch with my heart open.

Hope

About a year ago, I found out that I was pregnant. I remember vividly how quickly the test turned positive on me and not having time to even think "Should I look now? Or wait a minute?" I walked out of the bathroom to Bryan and showed him the result. He was wide-eyed and so happy. I was so happy. We hugged and laughed and cried and prayed together. I don't remember much more about that night, though I imagine the exhaustion and extreme hunger hit immediately. ; )

But I do remember that I started to avoid one of my close friends. I was very tired and I was working shift work and had unpredictable times available for phone calls and hanging out, so I thought she maybe wouldn't think there was something going on. To be honest, it took me a while to figure it out too.

 My friend is older than me and as long as I've known her, she has dreamt of marriage and family. Probably desires it more than I ever had. Yet, she was single and I had a wedding ring and a due date. I was a little confused with God and unsure how to act around her. Should I not talk about these wonderful parts of my life to protect her? Yet, how could I hold these new thoughts in? I felt foolish every time I mentioned my heightened sense of smell or my unusual desire for poached eggs.

My prayers to God included:

"Why do I have it and she doesn't?"

"This isn't fair."

"What are You doing up there?"

"I thought You took care of peoples' hearts."

"Are You really sovereign? Because if You are, You should change some things."

Finally, my friend and I talked about it and she said, "I may not have a husband, but if you exclude me from this part of your life, I will not have a friendship either." Good point. I said sorry and changed.

Yet, her lack of eligible bachelors nagged in my heart. Verses in the Bible ran through my head and confused me.

Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.

He satisfies our longings with good things.

Those who hope in the Lord will not be disappointed.

I would hold onto hope for her sake, but also for my sake. I wanted to prove a point. God will give us good things. But, is good the thing that we want, or is it the thing that is really beneficial for us and we don't realize it yet?

But, why me and not her?

She is now getting married in 83 days. God wasn't being mean holding out on her. He was preparing the very best for her. Of course! Why did we ever doubt!? Now we get to smile and applaud God's greatness and the pain of yesterday is forgotten. Today was their engagement party. Appetizers. Love story. Laughter. And another of my friends is there. She is crying out to God for a child of her own. Actually twin boys is what she desires. 

As I type, my boys are sleeping. One is starting to cry now.

Why me? Why not them? I promise you that it is not because I am deserving and she is not. God doesn't work like that.

But, today I went to the engagement party that I knew nothing about last year. I will believe for babies in my friend's womb. I am inside of time. He is not.

Sometimes I get frustrated with my boys because they seem to cry most frantically when I am preparing their bottle or sitting down to nurse. I think to myself, "Don't you realize that every time you've been hungry in your entire life, I have fed you? Don't you see the pattern?"

If we who are evil give our children all that we can, how much more our perfect heavenly Father?

Yet, I wonder and wait. Please, Lord. See our hunger.

Jacob worked 7 years for Rachel, but it seemed like a couple days because of his great love. I realized that this account was written after they were together. I wonder what his journal looked like. A giant countdown until the day his bride would be in his arms.

Those who hope in the Lord are not disappointed.

Golde

Right now, Bryan and I are housesitting. More than that, we are dog-sitting in this house. (And I happen to be couch sitting as I type this.) You can't say that we are babysitting exactly, because the babies belong to us. But, regardless - Eight puppies. Two grown up dogs. Two 4-month old boys. Two of us.

 I know my life is busy. Full. But not really. It seems that my life consists of moments of mayhem with babies crying for food, the pot boiling over on the stove, and AT&T calling over and over again. That is followed by enough quiet that I can hear the rain falling outside and the dog snoring beside me.

On the old movie "Fiddler on the Roof" there is a scene where everyone is rushing around their little home, preparing for the Sabbath. From sunset on Friday night to sunset on Saturday (correct me if I'm wrong) they would do no work. No cooking, no cleaning, no plowing, no laundry, etc.  About a month ago, I realized that I don't intentionally rest very often. I work until it is done or until I am too tired to continue and then I fall asleep feeling like a failure for not sweeping up the inexhaustible amount of dust that gathers on the edges of my laminate floor. However if, per chance, I decide to take a "well-deserved break", I spend the entire time creating a to-do list in my mind, or at least trying not to. Not exactly restful.

So, the decision is that I will not work on Sundays. Not because I think that this is the right and proper day for a Sabbath, but because I think it is most likely that I can maintain my incentive on this day.

  The inevitable result for me? I rush around on Saturday night with images of Golde, the Jewish traditionalist, running through my head. "Hurry! The sun is almost down! Bake the bread! Light the candles!" And then, with the dawning of Sunday morning, I am free. The only guilt I feel is when I don't do nothing enough.

And it makes me think, God is smart.

And, Monday is chore day.

Mutiny

I think that God has been chasing an area in my life, and until yesterday I didn't realize how much this area was driving me and guiding my choices. 

Growing up, I was never mocked or bullied. No one made fun of my ears or changed my name into words that would be an insult. My parents never abused me or neglected me. Yet, one part of my childhood has rooted itself into my adult heart and has grown to be a cruel, exaggerating dictator. I want to declare a mutiny, but I'm still unsure how to start.

 At least now I am aware that just because it has always been this way doesn't mean that the tyrant needs to remain in power. I serve a good God and He will be my motivation. Nothing else should call the shots, even if the end result is the same.

Fear should not be our master. Nor shame, guilt, or manipulation.

For instance, healthy eating habits are valuable. So is the ability to control my finances.  But, what voice is commanding my decisions?

"You are already too fat. If you eat that, it will become a downward spiral of weight gain." says Guilt and Manipulation.

The Voice of Wisdom may say, "That food has no nutritional value for you. Eat this instead."

Same result. Different motivation.

"You don't have enough money for that. If you buy it everyone will think that you're wasteful and indulgent. You're going to lose everything....." Fear drones on and on.

Or rather, "Why don't you pass on that one today. Pray for provision to afford it. Be generous instead. God will supply what you need and even more."

Again, could be the same result, but the root is fear or it is love.

Didn't realize that it could be broken down so simply for me. I wonder how many of us do the right things, but behind us is a snarling dog backing us into that door instead of the gentle hand of the Spirit guiding us.

Mutiny has been declared.

Race Against Myself

This morning my family and I went in to visit PG Interns for a time of worship and then because my husband was speaking to them during class time. It is always so nice to get to be together with other Christians who are growing and challenging themselves. Our friend Daryl shared out of 1 Corinthians 9:24 where it speaks of life as a race and of running in such as way to win the crown. Even though all run, not everyone wins. The concept was brought up that we are not racing each other, but rather, racing ourselves.

Later Bryan talked about being careful not to live comparing yourself to others, striving to just be like someone else.

In the past I have really dealt with this issue, sometimes having to habitually take captive certain thoughts that would divide and estrange me from my friends whom I admired. My admiration too easily could turn into coveting: trying to take a quality from them for myself when God wanted instead to help me develop it on my own! Every so often, I still battle this tendency.

However, this morning I started thinking about how often I compare who I am today with who I was a few years ago. I still don't have a conclusion, but I have thoughts.

For a few years I was involved in discipleship schools and in this environment my spirit seemed to be constantly challenged, and more than that. It felt like every time I was challenged by the Word of God a poem would spring from my heart or an art project would suddenly find inspiration and depth. I cried and laughed all of the time. I would journal morning and night to the point that my friends would tease about this unusual "anointing". I found green pastures to sit in and dreams to blow on like dandelions gone to seed. In my memory, most moments contained lyrics to the next acoustic classic.

And a couple years have passed. Today it seems like my life is so full of what I used to dream of that I don't have as much time to wrestle or cry or write. Sometimes I don't even know what is going on inside my mind. Bryan asked me a bit over a month ago, "How was your day, apart from feeding schedules and nap times?"

- - blank stare - - that was my response. 

So, my formulated thought. Am I still changing? Am I still being challenged to grow into the image of Christ? Still dreaming? Repenting? Do I still learn lessons from strangers or from sun piercing the sky? 

Is He still proud of me? 

I think that is really my question. And I don't want any well-meaning human to place a hand on my shoulder and comfort me or give me excuses. 

"You DO have twins."

"Your life is a little busy these days."

It isn't about what my hands are doing but what my heart is doing. I need to hear Him. I miss having the opportunity to plug my ears to the chaotic traffic. Maybe I just miss making those opportunities.

I will not settle for an average little life. Oh, it may look average to you when I'm grocery shopping, folding laundry, or making rice and chicken for dinner. On a deeper level, I am going to open up my heart to the Life-Giver. Deep calls out to deep. I hope He knows.

Passion is proven by pursuit. Lord, help me. Change me.

Out of a coma

You know, every once in a while, it is as though I come out of a coma, look around me and think, "Wow, How did I get here?" Two bedroom basement suite. Our oven in our pretty kitchen, our lamp, and our coffee table that my man crafted. Ample space for all our needs, plus a little more. 

I look at the man who I call "hun" & "baby" & "B". Amazing that it has been 15 months since we joined forces and made 'er official. 

Then, I look at the two little boys that occupy so much of my heart's territory and whose tiny belongings somehow get scattered to every corner by the end of every day. Socks. Soothers. Blankets. Books.

"How did I get here?"

Seems like I waited forever in a line-up to live the life that I am now engulfed in. I married at 22 years old. Still just a young one, but you may not know how many days of dying it took to get me here. So many others before me have lived in basement suites, had husbands, and had babies. But, you may not understand. This is what I prayed for and cried for, then surrendered and gave up on.

I turned myself in and admitted that I would rather be lonely and full than married and empty. And I am grateful to say that I am married and full. 

No Deceit

Lately, I've been thinking about how I need to up my level of vulnerability. With people that I trust, but more specifically, with people that I don't. Is this along the lines of loving not only your friends (why should you get credit for that?), but also your enemies? I don't really have enemies. Who would pick a fight with me? The closest thing I have to an enemy is when I don't know what the other person thinks of me.

Somehow that feels like walking on unfriendly territory.

I work so hard to protect myself. Selective revealing of my heart to those that will appreciate the particular morsel. You want to talk about God? I'll talk about God. You want to talk about T.V. shows. Me too. Recipes. I just found one the other day... I've always been quick to accomodate and sympathize with every situation. I consider it a strength, but within this strength is the seed for its own destruction.

I'm not fake. I'm just careful. I don't lie. But, according to 1 Peter 2:1, I am deceiving. That sounds worse.

"So be done with every trace of wickedness (depravity, malignity) and all deceit and insincerity (pretense and hypocrisy) and grudges (envy, jealousy) and slander and evil speaking of every kind." (Amplified version)

Be done with every trace of deceit and insincerity. Tell the truth. How am I really feeling today? What do I really think about that situation? If we can always get along, then you won't have to neglect me on purpose. But if I don't reveal myself, you won't be accepting or neglecting anything of substance. Help me, God. To be transparent. To be strong. To be humble.

I want friends that can see the dust on my shelves and the fingerprints on my glass table top. That know what I look like without makeup and see my hair before those awkward fly away pieces are straightened out. And to know they are coming over to see me, not to see a reflection of themselves.