• Life Lessons,  raving lunatic rant

    The Bible Conference

    Mommy with her coffee

    Happy New Year! Did you see my new banner? No? Empty your cache and refresh your browser. There it is. Anyway before I go off rambling about the super duper invites I’m designing for Bug’s super-duper-puppet-show birthday party coming up, I think I better say a few words about the bible conference I attended over Christmas weekend.

    I usually hate to talk about this stuff because I know some of you will write me off as one of those bible-thumping lunatics and the rest of you will sigh and shake your head that I’m such a coward always shying away from writing about spiritual things because it’s not the popularly accepted thing to do. And then there’s part of me that is embarrassed to admit that I probably only took in about ten percent of what was going on because I was trying to keep my toddler in line and I was distracted by the secret-coded notes my ten-year-old niece was passing right by me. (By the way, my niece may be a bad influence but she is totally clever.)

    Tweenie-bopper

    hotel beds are NICE!

    taking in the view

    So we stayed in a fancy hotel, we ate more cookies and I drank more coffee than I really should have… I saw old friends that I haven’t seen in three years or more and I learned some things. I don’t feel like this is the place to discuss them. (Not to mention I don’t want to admit how dumb I am.) But I’m coming around to the fact that I shouldn’t hide that I am a Christian anymore. I know. There goes my readership. But I have to be honest. This is me. Silly fickle me.

    I’ve had so many years that I doubted my faith. I was “saved” when I was very young and didn’t really know there was anything else to believe. Then my whole world turned on it’s head when I left the church in my twenties. I didn’t want anything to do with any kind of organized religeon. I’d seen the evil that it (and myself) could do. The Da Vinci Code sent me for a loop. Could Jesus be married? Could the bible be re-written to suit the Catholics in power at the time? I still question everything. I’d say you are a liar or in extreme denial if you don’t.

    But I’m coming around. It doesn’t all make logical sense in my head. I still worry that faith is part of my brain’s elaborate plan to fool me out of being afraid of death. But I’m letting go of that. I was raised to trust in Jesus to get me through. I was raised to read the bible for encouragement. Sure it’s sentimental because it reminds me of the safe harbor that was my youth but maybe I want that safe harbor for my kid too. And then there’s the part about prayer. I don’t understand it. It works. I’ve prayed my way through trial after trial and every time I am amazed that somebody up there, who has a million zillion other things to do, actually heard me.

    So that is that. I’m sorry if I bored you to tears and you’ll never want to come here again. I’m sorry if I disappointed you because I’m not going to relay what I learned from reading Hebrews 10. I just felt like I had to say something because it happened. I went to a bible conference for three days and it was good for me. I’m not going to be walking door-to-door handing out tracts but I am going to examine why I’m so hesitant to be a Christian in this crazy world. It’s part of who I am. It’s how I want to raise my daughter… maybe I need to just own up and not be so afraid to be a fool in other’s eyes. Maybe I’ve been a fool for hiding it.

    self portrait in dinnerware

    A funny thing though: Many of the people at the conference know that I blog. It’s sort of embarrassing but it keeps me on my toes thinking about all the different personalities that will read what I write. So it sort of amused me when I was picking up my free muffins for breakfast that a girl standing nearby whispered to her friend that she wondered how much of this conference would end up on blogspot.com. I don’t blog at blogspot.com and I wasn’t really going to blog about the conference at all. It’s part of my mixed-up private life that I don’t want to discuss with five hundred of my closest imaginary friends. But when she said that, I had to write something. If only just to smile and say, I heard you.

    her first experience with hot rollers

    Also? Baby Bug enjoyed it thoroughly. I can’t say the same about her first experience with hot rollers though.

    p.s. top photo taken by Bug

  • Family Matters,  Life Lessons,  spilling my guts,  Super Dad

    Nine years and still running strong…just like a Norge

    holding up like a Norge

    I’ve been lagging on posting my anniversary post for several days now. Mostly because I wanted that perfect photo to go with the post and since taking a portrait together didn’t work out, I had to think of something more creative. Leave it Toby to give me the inspiration for this shot.

    It’s our fridge. Our Norge that I bought way back in 1996 with an old roommate. We bought it used. I’ve written about it before. It was an ugly mustard color but Toby and I painted it red. That was before we were married.

    The other day, on our anniversary—the twenty-fifth to be exact, I commented to Toby that our refrigerator sure has held up a long time. We’ve had it for more than ten years and it’s only broken down once. He laughed and said something along the lines of how ancient it is, even older than our marriage. We got a good laugh out of that, thinking about how our marriage is still going strong after nine years just like a Norge.

    I don’t know what it is about that name “Norge” that always cracks me up. It’s just so matter-of-fact and unapologetic. Like the name Marge or barge. It’s not glamourous at all but it’s good and sturdy like an old refrigerator built to last. Which is sort of like our marriage.

    anniversary

    I can’t even believe it myself that we’ve lasted this long. It was rocky in the beginning. I expected a lot and was never happy. When I think back on it, I was a real pain in the neck. A whiney, bitchy, yucky person to be around. I complained all the time and was forever moping about how Toby didn’t hold up to my idea of what good husband should be. I never even thought about what would make a good wife. I was so immature. It’s a good thing I was a lot cuter back then than I am now because I don’t know why Toby would put up with me.

    As time went on things got so much better. We talk about it a lot. We were so different back then, opposites really. It’s not that I’ve changed him (though I tried, believe me, I tried) or he’s changed me but we’ve both adapted to suit each other. I never saw it coming. It just happened.

    us

    I think having Baby Bug was the turning point for me. I know that is sad considering that we were married for seven years before she was born but it’s true. I was always looking for a way out before she came along. I always secretly thought I could do better on my own. But once we had a kid, I stopped looking at the cracks and started trying to fill them for her instead. I don’t want to bore you with the lovey dovey crap but changing my perspective like that was exactly what I needed to do to be happy.

    famous rain pipe

    Now I’m so thankful. Toby could have been a horrible guy. I was so blind when I chose him. (Do you see those shoes?!! And skinny jeans were not in style in 1999. But please ignore this parenthesis.) I went from having all my decisions made for me by my very close-knit family to wandering blindly by myself, having no clue what decision to make. It was a scary time back then. I think I stayed in the relationship so long because I didn’t know how to get out of it.

    It would have been nice if I had a more active part in the decisions I made back then. I remember going to a counselor during the months before we were married and going through boxes and boxes of tissues as I cried rivers over whether or not I should get married. I really didn’t know what I was doing.

    But now, in hind sight, I’m glad I was clueless. I might have turned Toby down if I had a clue. I might have passed him over because he didn’t have a solid career or a plan for the future. He didn’t have a savings account, he had years of debt. He wasn’t from the same religious background I was from. He came from a broken home… He was a bad choice on paper.

    But maybe there was some part of me that recognized that he is a good guy because now it’s nine years later and he is a the best father and a wonderful husband. He has a good job and a solid grip on where our future is going. Every day I’m more and more thankful I did stay with him. I love him more and more every year that goes by.

    blurry

    I hope we last for ninety-nine more years.