Transparency

Oh to be transparent. If we could all be transparent how helpful that would be. To be able to share our struggles, our failures, our strengths. To be encouraged and challenged by one another with grace and truth. Isn't that how God intended the Church to be. Yet so often church has become a place of hiding, cowering in our fear of being found out, of being judged,found un-acceptable. Who are we all but sinners? We know this and yet we give our sins only lip service. We share the ones that are deemed "normal" or "acceptable". We fear being ousted or looked down upon for being real. I may not be seen as being Christian enough if I admit to this struggle. I may be outcasted and set aside. And sadly this has been the case for many who have been transparant.

Even I in a small way have tasted the bitterness of Holier than Thou attitudes when I have dared to step past what is deemed acceptable questions and behavior. When I have dared to be the least bit transparant. It makes transparency all that much harder.

How refreshing it would be if transparency was acceptable. How many people would be saved from their sins if they could freely admit their struggles with no fear of condemnation? How many pastors would be saved from the heartache of sins being brought to light if they had been safe sharing the desires of their flesh long before they had been met out in reality?

I feel God calling me to be transparent, because without it their is darkness and in darkness shame and evil thrive. Transparency is not pretty. It is painful. It is soul wrenching. It is admitting to both the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, it is being fully human. It is putting yourself on the altar of other peoples judgement. It becomes their choice then to slay you or accept you and you have to be willing to accept both.

(Wow God are you sure you want transparency from me? I am not sure I can take it.)

Scarlet Colored

Where to start. I have no idea. The last 10 months have been in many ways the darkest I have ever seen. In a way that was new to me. I was more lost than I have ever been. I have written about being on a healing road , trying to find "home". Last February I began to wander off that road. At first I sat looking at the road, but then I wandered. And after wandering I ran. You may or may not have read that I ran hard and fast with eyes wide shut . Fleeing into a darkness in which I lied to myself and said was light. Once there it was hard to see any light. The darkness covered my heart and my soul. The truth always comes out. With truth comes light, real light. Light that exposes the filth that darkness hides. Filth that has made me shrink. Filth turned guilt that in darkness could hide now grips me in its tight embrace. Guilty fears make me want to hide. They make me want to stop searching for home, because I fear I don't deserve the finding. So alone I sit. Afraid to reach out. Afraid to hear that which I already tell myself. Guilty fears- becuase when it comes down to it I knew better. I knew better than to wander. I knew better than to run. I knew better than to believe the lies and the liars. I knew better than to become the liar. I knew better than to act upon the lies...to eat the berries and be caught in the thorns . So here I stand scarlet colored and very alone. Hurt and hurting, both myself and others. Afraid to share. Afraid and ashamed of what will be thought of me, but also knowing that I deserve the thoughts. So tell me, where do I go and what do I do from here, because all I want to do is dig a hole and hide from what I know is the truth and the fear of being exposed.

These words below I treasure, because God Himself has pardoned my sins and to Him I am reconciled, but how do I pardon myself and climb out of the hole in which I have dug?

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Arise, my soul, arise; shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding sacrifice in my behalf appears:
Before the throne my surety stands,
Before the throne my surety stands,
My name is written on His hands.

He ever lives above, for me to intercede;
His all redeeming love, His precious blood, to plead:
His blood atoned for all our race,
His blood atoned for all our race,
And sprinkles now the throne of grace.

Five bleeding wounds He bears; received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers; they strongly plead for me:
“Forgive him, O forgive,” they cry,
“Forgive him, O forgive,” they cry,
“Nor let that ransomed sinner die!”

The Father hears Him pray, His dear anointed One;
He cannot turn away, the presence of His Son;
His Spirit answers to the blood,
His Spirit answers to the blood,
And tells me I am born of God.

My God is reconciled; His pardoning voice I hear;
He owns me for His child; I can no longer fear:
With confidence I now draw nigh,
With confidence I now draw nigh,
And “Father, Abba, Father,” cry.

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Escaping the thorns

He stands, waiting, watching, tear stained face.  He stands and I stand.  Guilt ridden for being caught in the thorns and for the juice that stains bright from the forbidden berries.  I stand and I feel unworthy of joining Him on the road. 

He waits. 

I cry out that I am unworthy.

He waits.

New Furniture

Many years ago when my now 7 year old son was a baby a lady came to the church we were attending at that time and spoke to us what I can only describe as a type of prophesy or words from the Lord.  I am not exactly sure what you would call it.  I was slightly nervous going up and hearing what would be said to me.  What she told me is that God would move all the old furniture out and fill me with His new furniture. 

My how I am in need of that "new furniture".  I am shoved full with old things, things that are ratty and torn, dirty from use.  I am ready to be re-furnished, re-modeled, and re-vamped.  All I have been doing is re-arranging all the old things, trying to fix myself up, change who I am, and my how it isn't working.  It is time to find all the old things and give them up, take them to the dump, let God replace them with new things.

Running With Eyes Wide Shut

And I ran, I ran with my eyes wide shut.  Shutting out the truth, opening wide for the wanted.  And I ran hard and fast.  Looking for something that wasn't there.  Hoping to find what I thought I needed.  My eyes wide shut.  I stood up and I ran down the path of the prodigal.  Running fast, not looking back.  Not wanting to hear the calls of the One who loves. 

I am angry and so I run.  I am angry with who I am, who I have become, who I have been made to be, how I was used, how it was allowed, how I hurt.  I am angry with God, life, myself, the world, the pain, the numbness and so I run.  Feet pounding, heart racing, feeling alive and wanting to die all mixed up with the sweat of my brow. 

I run so fast, so far, pounding the ground with my feet, leaving footprints where I trod.  "Who am I?" I cry with eyes wide shut.  I run looking for answers, looking for freedom, looking for something to make me stop.  To make everything stop.  I run until I am lost.  Lost deep in the nothingness of what is and what was.  It is all nothing and for nothing, and I have become nothing.

Caught in the thorns

I have traveled far, so far, down a lonely road.  Brambles line the sides.  They grab at my arms as I walk.  Snagging my clothes, pulling me towards them.  At first I fight them, but then I smell the sweet aroma of the berries they produce.  I quit fighting and I step deeper into them, unaware of the sharp thorns tearing into my skin.  I am focussed solely on the fruit of these bushes.  The berries are plump and juicy.  I can't resist the allure of them.  Their taste is tangy and sweet at the same time.  Their juice stains my lips and fingers.  I gorge myself until I can eat of them no more.  Their fragrance soon becomes sickening to my senses.  I can finally feel the rips that the thorns have put into my skin.  I try and turn, make my way back to the road, but I am tangled deep.  The thorns that were easily walked into are not so easily left.

I look at my blood stained skin, the thorns dipped in red.  Suddenly they are not just my thorns, they are Christ's.  I have crowned Him in these thorns that I willingly walked into.  He suffered, bled His own blood, skin peirced by the thorns that weren't His own.  His glory forsaken, to be crowned in my sin.  His eyes, tear stained, know my pain.  I can see Him on the road.  Just waiting for me to ask, to ask to be untangled from the vines that grab. 

I can see Him, yet I stand mute in my thorns.  Why do I stand, just stand?  Stained and bleeding, torn to shreds and yet I choose to stand. 

I Love You, Too

Karson, my 2 year old, often comes up to me and says "I love you too, Mom."  His sweet little words of love to me express that he already knows that I love him.  There is no questioning in his statement.  My love for him is known and he is expressing his love back to me. 

Often when he says this to me I can't help but think of God and His love.  It is amazing to me how much my children can teach me about my relationship with God.  I should be saying "I love you too God".  Do I have that innocent, child-like faith that knows of a Heavenly Father that already loves me without having to question it?  Sometimes I do, but sometimes this world gets in the way of that.  I question His love for me.  I wonder if His love changes based on my actions and attitudes. 

If I look at how I love my son,  (un-conditionally, deep and unwavering since the moment I knew of his existence, without having to have him do a single thing but exist to obtain that love) how much more can and does God love me for absolutely no reason more than the mere fact that I exist?! 

If distance comes between God and I it is not due to a lack of love on God's part.  I think again of the relationship between parent and child.  When a child is 2 they are headstrong, defiant, and wanting to separate themselves from their parent.  The vision in my head is of a child running as fast as they can to some dangerous but alluring distraction.  I am that 2 year old.  I am running towards that dangerous new distraction, wanting freedom from the watchful eyes of my "parent".  Like a parent, God doesn't turn His back and run the opposite way.  His love doesn't lesson or move away from me.  I am the one causing the distance.  Depending on the situation, God is either standing firm in His same position, watching carefully waiting for me to run back to Him asking Him to kiss away the "boo-boos" or He is running towards me.  His love is running towards me trying desperately to spare me from whatever mortal danger I am chasing this time. 

So often in the church we hear that sin separates us from God.  It is true it does, but like in my illustration above, I don't think it is God who is walking away from us when we sin, it is us defiant, head-strong, easily distracted 2 year olds running away from Him that causes separation.  Un-like a 2 year old though, we forget what my own son knows about our relationship and that is that we can always walk back to God look up at Him and say, "I love you, too!"  We/I don't have to question if this time He will kiss the "boo-boos" my dis-obedience caused.  I don't have to question if His love for me has grown cold or if He has grown tired in the wait for me to turn around and run back to Him.  I need to have that innocent child-like faith that no matter what, no matter how far I run, no matter how long it takes, or how big the "boo boo's"  I can always come back to God and say, "I love you, too", because I should know that His love never left, changed, wavered, or moved away from me.

I can't help but think of the story of the prodigal son.  I always thought of it as a story for the non believer, but now that I think upon it, I am almost convinced that it is more so for the believers.  The child was already a son, he took his inheritance and he went far away from his father and his home.  He wasted his inheritance and lived in a way in which he should not have.  The whole time he was gone his father never moved, he stayed, waiting for the son to return.  When the son finally did return the father RAN to him, he threw a huge party, he welcomed him home.  Notice the father didn't stand there with his arms crossed, asking questions, saying "I told you so", or refuse to see him.  No, I will say it again, HE RAN  to his lost child.  WOW!  Isn't that awesome cool?!  The father never gave up hope of seeing his son return, he never grew tired of waiting, his love never dimmed. 

I don't know where any of you are in your lives, but wherever you are I hope you know that you can turn to God and in all confidence say to Him, "I love you, too!", because I hope you know that His love for you is already established, simply because you exist!

*Thanks God for that reminder, shown to me in such a small and powerful way through my own son. I love you, too God.  I love you, too.*

So Far So Good....

My appointment today went well.  Dr. Reece seems very nice and understanding.  I was surprised by how young she is.  I must say it feels a bit odd going to a therapist who is younger than I am.  She was receptive to my blog "book" though and said that it will be very helpful to her (you were right Jane and Li'l-bit) since a lot of the questions that she was asking have already been covered in so many of my personal blogs and some of the blogs from here. 

She already gave me some advice on how to start changing some things.  I am looking forward to seeing what will come from this new adventure of sorts.  She did tell me that I may not be able to remember the Shadow since I was so young.  She said that most first memories for people start around age 5 or 6.  People who remember things between the ages of 3 and 4 are a smaller percentage.  For people to remember things that happened between age 1 and 2 is pretty much un-heard of.  She also said that earlier memories tend to be a sign of intelligence.  That last bit surprised me actually.  I am still holding out hope that I can remember and deal with what needs dealing with.  My body remembers, something in the recesses of my mind remembers, so it is there and if it is there then there must be a way to bring it back up into the forefront of my memory.

I will keep you posted how things progress.  It should be an interesting road to walk if nothing else.

And so begins.....

A new chapter in my life. I start seeing my psychiatrist tomorrow, or is she a psychologist? Either which way, I start seeing her tomrrow. I am a bit nervous about it. Will she be receptive to me writing out most of my feelings? Will she be easy to talk to like Rachel was? Will she be able to help me hunt down the Shadow? So many questions. I printed out all of my blogs that might be helpful to getting to know me and put them in a binder for her. I even put page numbers and made a table of contents for it. Now I am beginning to wonder if that was a bit pretentious of me. What if she doesn't want to read them?



Uggh, the unknown can drive me so crazy. At least it is less than 24 hours before i get some of my questions answered.

Myers/Briggs Personality Test

My sister wanted me to take a Myers/Briggs personality test that they use at her work.  When I was in college I took one and all of my scores, ALL of them, were 49/51 or 51/49 for each of the four sections.  I was evenly split right down the middle.  She guessed that now I am older my scores would have changed.  She was right.  I was pretty equally split on some of them, but others were very high one way or another.

Have any of you taken the Myers/Briggs test?  If so what are your traits?  I am curious.  I looked up the definition of my type and well, it was pretty much SPOT on. 

There is no shock to me that my personality results make up only 6-8% of America's population LOL

Here is what my test results showed:
For the test she sent me my scores were as follows
E / I            S / N              T / F               J / P
6/4              7/13                9/11               3/17
E stands for Extravert
I for Intravert
S for Sensing
N for Intuition
T for Thinking
F for Feeling
J for Judging
P for Perception
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ENFP Definition of Personality Equals “Emotion + Possibilities”


The definition of personality for the ENFP includes the qualities of newness, vision, feeling, harmony, possibilities.

You may have come here from the MBTI “words to describe personality” page and you know or suspicion that your personality type is Extraverted with Intuition, Feeling and Perception, because you have taken the Myers-Briggs personality assessment test. Or you may be here because someone you care about is this type. That being the case you can discover many qualities, traits or characteristics describing this personality type on this page.



BASICS



I’m going to present ENFP qualities in a list format because I have found reading a paragraph when you are digging for some important, quick information, can be difficult, well it can be irritating! So let us take a look at a list of personality traits for ENFPs. This type:



•Must have newness, something different in their life

•Possesses a deep concern for others

•Is typically running off in new directions without much fact

•Is usually a natural brain-stormer looking to the future with positive expectation

•Is very creative, active and imaginative

•Enjoys beginning new things more than finishing

•Is typically spontaneous, flexible, and adaptable

•Will be concerned with personal growth, identity, and being authentic

•Need autonomy to be free in expression and believe others should also

•Is typically attracted to the abstract and symbolic, will be at times highly challenged by detailed, present oriented reality

•Highly idealistic they believe in their visions for self and others



Now do you see yourself/someone else in the above basic list of personality traits??



What we really begin to see with personality type is emerging patterns of behaving and using our brains. The ENFP way is natural, instinctive, beautiful, created to be this way. Let us continue.



Mottos Are Fun



For the ENFP these mottos or things to put on their battle flag might be: “What Is Over The Horizon?”, “Anything Is Possible!!”, “Life Is Full Of Possibilities”, to name a few.



Let us make another list of personality traits, ENFPs:



•Are reasoning and making decisions with feeling and conceptual hunches

•Are very idealistic, emotional, romantic

•Will have difficulty (sometimes great difficulty) with those who cannot express emotion, feeling

•Are skilled at understanding what is important to others

•Need and naturally desire involvement with people

•Are getting great pleasure from meeting and talking with others

•Tend to be naturally casual and get irritated by too much rigidity and order

•Can have intense emotional responses to things





Now, my friend, the ENFP not only behaves in the above manner…THEY NATURALLY EXPECT EVERYONE ELSE TO DO THE SAME!!



So, what happens when they see that many others do not behave that way?? (only 6-8% of America’s population is this type) Answer: Different levels of stress, confusion, irritation, etc.; typically nothing this type can’t handle. So, this is a NATURAL reaction on the part of this type, they are not doing anything wrong.



More Stuff The ENFP:



◦In relationships, they are very supportive and express appreciation freely

◦In relationships, can become over concerned with harmony

◦In relationships, sometimes have difficulty confronting when necessary

◦In relationships, they can be extremely empathic

◦Are truly people, people

◦In relationships, they can be great upholders of tradition

◦In relationship they need feedback and affirmation

◦Values freedom and may balk at commitment



Under Stress The ENFP:



◦May have great difficulty saying “no”

◦May become rigidly non-conforming

◦May feel very trapped in confusion

◦Under extreme stress they may forget to eat, to sleep, have accidents

◦May withdraw with out of proportion expressions of analytical criticism

◦May have out of proportion compulsions focused on non-relevant details



If this type is you, wonderful, perhaps you now have a better understanding of yourself, and perhaps you can use that increased understanding in many positive ways.



If you see someone else as this type but not you, please pay attention to the differences between your personality and the ENFP. Try to see that your way and this way are natural and just fine! Look for the positive differences, the strengths this type brings to your type. Celebrate that because it cannot be changed and can add wonderful diversity and truth to your life!!

The Healing Road

 
What is it that this road to healing is going to look like?  I am so curious to know.  Will the path be rocky, or will I find it paved and solid?  Okay, so I doubt a healing path is paved.  That is just wishful thinking on my part hoping that it might be somewhat straight forward and easy.  I know that won't be the case.  A paved road indicates a road that has been traveled, time spent on it it, leveling it, clearing away the debris, and then the paving comes.  No one has been on my road of healing, so I am the one who is going to have to do the work. Getting a paved road is a process just as healing is going to be a process, and neither of them are going to happen overnight. 

I wonder how the road will end up looking when I am done.  There are lots of roads out there that never get paved for whatever reason.  They stay rocky, filled with potholes, possibly being over grown by shrubs and brambles.  Will my road to healing lead me to "home" or will it end up just being a road to nowhere?  There are those roads out there too...the ones that just end, with no connections to anywhere.

If I were an artist I would paint the picture of how my road might look:  Woman standing at the edge of a path, a path that twists and turns through a thick forest.  Someone waits at the edge of the forest to greet her and lead her to the one who can show her the way through the forest, The Path-finder.  The Path-finder leads her to the other side.  Here the road in front of her is a little more clear, but this is where the Path-finder stops.  She urges the woman on.  There is a steep hill in front of her, she can't see over the edge of that hill, but at the top of it stands yet another guide to help her face the unknown. 

This is where my painting would have to stop, because this is as much of the road as I know.  My Doctor led me to the Path-finder, my counselor, she took me through the forest of depression and silence.  She helped the words to come and now we stand together at the edge of the forest with the hill in front of me and my new psychiatrist standing at the top of that hill waiting to help me traverse the other side of it, the side I can't see.  The side that will determine if the road will lead to home or just end up going nowhere. 

The thought of a road going to nowhere is almost enough to make me want to run back to the forest, cut down some trees and build a house there on the edge of the forest.  Who wants to travel a road to nowhere?  Who wants to go through all that work just to find that all that effort has been fruitless? 

Don't worry, I don't plan on homesteading here, because what if I did and never braved the hill only to find out later that the road does lead to "home" and I find that all my efforts would have been worth the journey, but I gave up too soon.  That thought is more frightening than the first.  To be able to find wholeness and healing is worth the risk of possibly ending up on a road to nowhere.

Nazi's, Freedom, and Pork Chops

The other night I stayed up until 7:30 in the morning. There was no reason for me to stay up so late other than I just wasn't really tired until then. I slept for an hour before I was awakened by a phone call at 8:30. During that hour I had the strangest dream.


I dreamt that I was part of a Nazi experiment of sorts. We were at a school or some such building and we lived there and couldn't leave. It was me, a large black man, and Jews. The black man and I were trying to help the Jew escape as well as ourselves. The gist of my dream was everytime we thought we were going to escape and be free the Nazi's were waiting on the other side and would put us back into captivity. Eventually the Nazi's were defeated and as the details get sketchy these are the parts I remember. They unlocked all the doors and most of the prisoners wouldn't leave. They figured it was a trick and that they would just be caught again. They didn't believe that they could really be freed from their prison cells. I can remember the Nazi's that were left laughing, because their experiment had worked.


The other part that I remember is that the Nazi's had to serve the Jews a dinner as a sort of apology for keeping them prisoner. What did they choose to serve? Pork chops. Dreams are so funny.


When I first woke up from this dream I just laughed at its absurdity, but then I got to thinking about it on a deeper level.

I think I have felt trapped in my own prison, and every time I have tried to escape it on my own means I end up right back in my cell. Now I am at the cusp of freedom, the cell doors are open and waiting for me to walk through them and be truly free and I am worried that the freedom won't be real, that I will just end up back in my cell again.


The pork chops, well that could just be the silliness of the dream world, or it could be the fear that victory will be unsatisfying.  I will be free yet I won't be able to eat of the victor's dinner for whatever reason that might be. Maybe what I am searching for will end up not being possible. I will be free, but stay un-satisfied.


Or maybe I am over analyzing the crazy dreams of a sleep deprived woman whose husband watches too many world war 2 documentaries. =)

My Heart Breaks for Her

 My heart breaks for her.

(It is hard for me to say "me" that my heart breaks for "me". I can say "her". My heart breaks for this little girl in the picture, but there is a dis-connect between her and me. I am not sure why that is. I am trying to connect with her, to allow myself to feel broken-hearted for myself instead of just feeling "broken".)


I run my fingertips over the picture. I touch her soft blond hair, look into those blue eyes that are so big, her chubby little legs poking out of her short, white, little girl dress and she is the picture of innocence and beauty.


I look at her and I want to snatch her up out of the picture and hold her, protect her from the shadow that I know is lurking, and the tears spill over the damn that has been holding them back.


She is just a picture. Flat. I can't protect her. The shadow will get to her. Her little white dress of innocence will become stained and dirty. She will become nothing more than a dishrag used to mop up the shadow's desires. She will become broken and scared; looking for home. Words will elude her, she won't have them to say. No one will come to rescue her. No one will come to rescue her and she will cry. She will cry and the memories will hide in the recesses of her mind just as I imagine that she tried to hide. My heart breaks for her, because I can't take that away. I can't take it away, because her broken-ness is my own.


I am broken and all I can do is look at her and let the tears spill down, because I couldn't save her. Now I am left here looking at a picture of a person that I couldn't protect and all I can do is try to un-loose the memories that she burried deep. I need to find her crouched small in the darkened corner of my mind and bring words to her wordlessness, take her by the hand and lead her to the home that she so desperately sought all those years ago.


I need to look at her and see that she is me and I need to find that same broken-hearted compassion that I feel for her and give it to myself. I need to let the tears spill down for me as well as for her, because it is time for both of us to stop hiding.  I need to find the right someone to help me do this. To show me how to find her, to find the words, and the memories, and then how to get back home.

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Kalen's snowman.  Made all by herself. 

Our tree covered in snow.

Does this remind anyone else of Narnia?

Here is me with droplets of snow all cozy and warm in my bedroom.  I love to watch the snow.  Tonight I am spending my evening watching the snow, crocheting, and watching the movie "Date Night"  all at the same time.  Oh and did I mention that all the children fell asleep without a fight tonight?!  Yeah, this is a perfect evening!!!! 

Funny How It Works That Way.....

It is funny how a few weeks ago I couldn't get the thoughts to stop.  They kept charging at me full speed.  Thought after thought, so fast that I could barely catch hold of them to process what they were.  Now I am lucky to have any thought to ponder.  The thoughts have all but disappeared.

I was trying to explain this trasformation in a letter to my therapist.  It is hard to find things to talk about when there are no thoughts popping up.  At first I had so much that I could hardly pick a place to start.  I wrote letter after letter of thoughts.  Now blank pages stare and stay blank.

I explained it as if I am Jeckyll and Hyde.  Jeckyll contains the me that is happy, content, able to be a part of life and deal with the trials that life has to bring.  Jeckyll lives in the now, is not bogged down with the past.  Hyde contains all that is sad.  Everything that has ever hurt me or changed me.  It is all contained in Hyde.  When Hyde is around Jeckyll is not easily found.  The two are almost incapable of existing together at the same time.  It is one or it is the other.

Trying to find the other is like looking for someone in a dark room.  You can maybe make out their form, but you are unable to see them clearly.  That is how it is.  I am currently Jeckyll, fairly happy and content and Hyde is elusive, vague, and hard to find.  I know that all that "stuff" is still in there, but I can't make it out clearly. 

If I try and shine a light on it I am afraid that the happiness will run and hide and I will go back to being stuck with the "stuff" hitting me at 90 miles an hour again. 

I have my next counseling appointment tomorrow and I am trying to think of something to talk about.  Something that will maybe allow me to shine a light on one of the things in that dark room.  Unfortunately I am drawing blank.

This is going to be a long tedious road to healing I think.  As much as I dislike being "Hyde", one good thing comes from being in that mental space, counseling and finding things to talk about is much easier.  Kind of ironic that now I am comfortable talking in a counseling session the medications have forced Hyde back into hiding and along with him all the "stuff" that is worth talking about.  Funny how it works that way.


              HYDE

.

                                                                           JECKYLL

Why did I want to shine a light on that Hyde character again?!? 

=)

Beautifully, Bless-ed-ly Boring

I admit it, my life is pretty boring.  When I want to complain about the laundry, the dishes, the piles of baby snacks that find their way onto my living room floor, I have to remember the times when life wasn't boring  and be thankful for this time, when the everyday is the norm. 

With my oldest son being in Occupational therapy twice a week I see families that have daily struggles beyond my comprehension.  I am guessing that my "boring" would their blessing.   I remember when Karson (my now 2.5 year old) was sick and had to spend 3 days at the hospital taking test after test to figure out what was wrong.  Life was not boring then, it was crazy, and a bit scary, filled with the un-known.  I would not ask for that again.

I think of now as I wait and wonder what is afflicting my body and I have to say as difficult as the waiting is I think of those who have Cancer and other debilitating diseases and think of all the non boring things that they have to go through and again I would choose my boring life. 

I think of those who don't have a home to get messy, or a place to wash their belongings, maybe not even owning any belongings.  That kind of a life would not be boring, but it is not an exciting that I would ever ask for or wish on those who live it.

So as I look at the couch filled with laundry waiting to be folded, the piles of dirty laundry waiting to be washed, the dishwasher that is ready to be emptied, the dishes that still need to be washed, and the floor that has baby snacks spread everywhere....I have to say I am happy.  Happy to have this boring life filled with everyday tasks, because they are beautiful, I am blessed beyond measure.  My life is beautifully, bless-ed-ly boring.

 baby snacks lovingly strewn about by the baby

 clean laundry waiting for me to fold it

 dishes waiting to be washed

the laundry pile slowly getting smaller.