Sunday, September 30, 2012

this weekend

I did things my way, in the middle of a group trip.

It felt good.

Like I'm a grown up.

I know, it's ridiculous....but at 31 I finally feel like it is ok for me to say, "I'm too tired for this activity; I'm going to bed."

And no one complained.

I mean, I get up at 5:30 every morning. It's not unreasonable for me to be tired and ready to sleep around 9:00.

I wanted to skip the fire? I skipped it.

I wanted to skip the silly games? i skipped them.

I wanted to skip the ball game? I skipped it.

There was too much other fun to be had.

Like, naptime fun. Or sitting in the sun, fun. Or swimming in the lake fun. Or running the trail around the lake fun. Or adventures finding walmart fun.

It was a great trip. Lots of fun spent hanging out with the college students. Lots of fun singing praises to God. Lots of fun eating and eating and eating. Lots of fun talking about what it means to be an outsider, and how we are called to this life of being different.

Lots of fun, lots of love, lots of great time connecting with each other.

And of course, it was wonderful to be away from home.

(Now, the kitty cat is purring at me, though, which I miss when we're away!)

Thursday, September 13, 2012

life, lately

Life lately has been a little bit sad.

Ok, a lotta bit sad.

My travel buddy's dad passed away on my second day of school, so I quickly made arrangements for an awesome substitute teacher and a last minute flight and was able to spend the day before the memorial service and the day of the memorial service with my travel buddy, her mom, her brother, and her sister. Although it was hard for me to make the decision to leave my classroom and my new group of students so early in the school year, and for three whole days (the most I've ever taken in a row!), I have no doubt that it was the right thing for me to do.

When I got back to the airport, my mama told me to run, go hug David, because he was picking up his daughter to take her to the hospital to see her mama, Sister, who, after three long years of awful, awful bone cancer that had spread to lots of other places, had a heart attack in the hospital. I hugged his neck, told him I love him (he's been my boyfriend all my life, even though he was always married to Sister), and went back to my mom, who let me know that this was probably the end.

And she was right. Early on labor day morning, we got the news. By labor day night, we knew when the funeral would be, and before we were home from the beach I had my same amazing sub lined up for Friday.

It was another beautiful ceremony, and I bawled my eyes out. Sister was a petite woman with a gigantic joyful presence. She always cried when we sang the hymn "Seek Ye First," and even when I was little, she would tell us that she wanted it sung at her funeral. When we sang, I came undone. I will probably always come undone at that hymn. Just as I will come undone at "Jesus Loves Me", since my mama has already made it clear that we will sing it (one day in the hopefully far, far off future) at her funeral.

Although I was fairly certain that I wouldn't be pregnant, the weekend confirmed my suspicions, and it made me a little sadder, too. Sweet hubby and I did finally decide that we'd try infertility treatment, but it is definitely with mixed feelings for me.

I know that many children are conceived with the aid of medical intervention. I also know that many children are not conceived by the aid of medical intervention. I am a Christian, and I also believe fully that God gives in accordance with his plan. I have doubts about the necessity or rightness of medical intervention, as I feel like I am somehow trying to intervene in God's plan. If God didn't want me to have children, and I go to great lengths with a fertility specialist to conceive a child, and it wasn't meant to be....I'm not sure. At the same time, I know plenty of people who consider medical intervention the "miracle" they were praying for. I also know people who have a faith such that they can interpret God's promises for their own lives and make declarations such as "Within the year, I'll have a child", and fully believe and see through to the end these statements.

My faith is not of the sort that would lead me to make demands of God. My faith is not of the sort to lead me to believe that medical intervention is supposed to be my miracle (at least not yet). My faith is sort of on hold....I'm not letting go of it, but I'm also not growing in it, the way I wish I was, especially in light of being given a trying circumstance that would really be the perfect opportunity to demonstrate to the world and myself that I have my faith in God, in His perfect plan, and the good things He has in store for me.

You can pray for me, if you want.

Friday, September 7, 2012

five minute friday

The word of the week at The Gypsy Mama is "Graceful".

She stands, poised, a half smile on her face. She can't believe that so many people have come, so many people have told her the things she already knew.

She shakes hands, embraces, offers to explain the pictures at the front of the room.

"He told me the world needs more artists."

"The smartest person I know always wanted to emulate him."

"He was so giving."

"Chicken is famous at the office."

She recounts the story of the last day, of him mouthing to her that she is a beautiful person, her telling him the same, blowing kisses to each other to the very end. She tears up briefly, but continues speaking.

She is unsure whether heaven exists, where souls go when the body fails.

She is disbelieving that he will not be there any more, will not request her used ink cartridges, will not ask her each time he sees her if she is ok financially, will not hold court at the dinner table this holiday.

Yet she greets each guest with her best, poised, smiling the best she can, graceful in this moment of closure.

Graceful, like the dancer she is.

In memory of Bill MacGregor, and in loving honor of his sweet daughter and my traveling buddy.