Love is a verb. So is friendship.

For weeks, months or even years now, I have found myself wondering if it is normal to feel as though you have to force a friendship to work. If you are a "bad friend" for allowing relationships to extinguish over time. There was a time- Up until recently where I would have said that indeed, a true friend tries, a true friend takes the time to be there, to take an interest in the others' life. I suppose that I still believe this, but perhaps it really DOES take two. I can't say that I am really speaking of any one relationship in particular, here. More a collection of them, in my own life as well as others. Sometimes I just.want.to.quit. I do believe that maybe that is the right thing to do, nowadays. Do I really need to TRY to be a persons friend, without the attempt on the other side? I think not. I think it should just be there. To aid in my reflection, I looked up the meaning of the word "friend" in an online dictionary- I found this:

"A friend is a lover, literally. The relationship between Latin amīcus "friend" and amō "I love" is clear, as is the relationship between Greek philos "friend" and phileō "I love." In English, though, we have to go back a millennium before we see the verb related to friend. At that time, frēond, the Old English word for "friend," was simply the present participle of the verb frēon, "to love." The Germanic root behind this verb is *frī-, which meant "to like, love, be friendly to." Closely linked to these concepts is that of "peace," and in fact Germanic made a noun from this root, *frithu-, meaning exactly that."

Really, exploring the definition helped me little. I just thought that it was neat. The one thing that did provide help of my concerns was this- The use of the word "verb". A verb indicates action. Love is an action, and the word "love" and it's close relationship to the word "friend" tells me that perhaps, I was correct. I don't need to be the charity friend. I don't want to be- I want to be the real friend. I want my loved one's to feel that they are loved- That I want to act out that love- Not merely keep up old habits.

I realized that my thoughts are convoluted. I realize that they could very well hurt a persons feelings. If that were the case- I am sorry, and you are better to just ask me about any concerns, as this is just another one of my over analyzed thoughts. : )

Lovely day today. We went to my home church for a picnic, and visit with some family and friends. It has been so long that I forgot how at ease I feel there. I miss the city. Even the somewhat city. Just get me out of this country-side already!!!

Abrupt closing here, but I am exhausted.

Over and out!

Rach

Peace

Today I want to talk about peace. Why? Peace is something that we are near commanded to have, but comes with such testing of such. I struggle with peace.

My husband is an irrationally peaceful person. By irrationally, I mean irritatingly peaceful. The world could literally crumble at his feet, and he would calmly bend over, and pick up whatever pieces he could, pat me on the back and kiss my forehead as it spins on it's axis of a neck. I suppose that I would have passed on by aneurysm by now had I not married him, because I am WIRED.TO.THE.CORE.

My intentions are always to help. To be "good". But even our most honest of attempts to help and be just, can be harmful.

Time out. Ironically enough, as I began to type this blog, I heard a chirping come from the kitchen, and upon walking out there, saw my kitten crouched in front of the stove. Chills went up my spine. Another chirp and I realized that there was SOMETHING under the stove. I jumped over the baby gate while sternly asking (which is just a nice way of putting "demanding") my husband to get up because SOMETHING was under the stove and I wished not to have another mouse massacre in this house. (We had a mouse months ago- Which our cat "took care of". It was disgusting). At any rate- He ever so calmly got off of the couch, moved towards the kitchen, and laid down to observe what might have taken refuge under the stove. I brought him a flashlight that he asked for and he again- Ever so calmly and smoothly removed the drawer under the oven. Out ran a little chipmunk- I screamed and yelled about the cat and the small vermin running about my kitchen, he with a type of ease that I do not possess, walked out to the porch to ensure that the small creature had indeed made his way out, and had it not, to catch him and make him his new friend. Me= Fretful, Husband= Peaceful.

Peace. When told about having a peace as a child I associated it with "shutting up and not being loud. As a teenager, with trust during times of turmoil. But it really is so very much more than that. Peace is letting go even during the calm, and knowing that God is ultimately in control, that your life is not your own, and that no matter what, He is just in all things. Peace is a character trait to me. It is a disposition- Not just a state of mind.

Paul said:

"For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace."
Romans 8:6

You might not be a "spiritual" or "religious" person, but even the most impervious of agnostics or atheists can believe that to concentrate on one's circumstances or others' circumstances with such a tendency to become weighted is harmful for a persons well-being; Spiritually, emotionally, and even physically. You can be a part of a persons life, you can help without needing to take that burden, without forfeiting your own peace. You can be attentive to your own needs, and the needs of those you care for and love- Without forfeiting your own peace.

So what is really at the root of NEEDING to make things your own? Can it really be selfishness with the motive of being selfless? Is the attempt to be selfless for the sake of another entirely selfish? Are their "crosses" really ours to bear in the first place? What would really make me SO important and so strong to think that they are? Whose throne am I thrusting myself onto, to feel and act in such a way?

God desires peace for us. So that we can be better focused on sufficiently serving Him. So that we can be content in our lives with what we have. So that we can experience joy. All battles are not ours to fight, and even those that are ours to fight- They do not demand a heavyhearted reaction, but perhaps one that offers the circumstances up to Him, who can heal, who can work, who can solve beyond our wildest attempts and expectations.

Another attempt at making sense probably gone terribly askew. Felt good to get on the soapbox again, regardless.

Peace, man.

Rach

.Babies And Beaches And Mommies On Leashes.

Today was a fantastic day!

My sister Sarah stays with us for brief periods during the summer. Today was one of those days. She arrived here as I was waking up this morning. I woke up to tip toeing around the house, and shouts of joy at the rising of the sun, and the beginning of a new day coming from my beautiful baby boys room. Through barely opened eyes, I saw my dear sister walking into his room to grab him for me, and honestly thanked God for her in that moment, what a nice thought. I was already in preparations of getting out of bed, so I was obliged to let her go into our living room, and hang out on the computer for a bit while I got the bear-child ready for his breakfast.

My sister fed him breakfast as I got ready for our busy day. We had a play date previously scheduled with a close friend and her little girl, which my sister would be coming with us for.
We went to a lake about an hour away, and enjoyed nature and fun with the babies. It was beautiful. But alas it began to rain, thus ending our peaceful day at the lake abruptly. It was ok, the babies were getting restless anyway.

There is something to be said for living life spontaneously. I truly believed up until recently that there could no longer be last minute trips to New York City, or Philadelphia, or the shore. We definitely got lost at least three times today, but never severely. I enjoyed it. I forgot how much I loved going on car rides without a map- but only a destination in mind. There is some fun in not knowing EXACTLY where you are going all of the time. In not having to plan every minute of every day. I missed that. I missed waking up on any given morning, and having the world at my fingertips. For a while I believed that all of that was lost when we conceived and finally gave birth to our son. I was wrong. I am just as alive as ever. As is the rest of this world. There are of course limitations to what I can do- But never will I ever limit myself to the four corners of any room or building again for the sake of being normal, or for what any other mother would do. There are still adventures in this world for me, and even more so for my son. I intend to share them all, one city, one beach, one lake, and one lost car ride at a time : )

Skeletons and The Dark Side

This is going to be a very sad attempt at writing something interesting. Just a warning.

I realized the other day that people are not ALWAYS a result of their surroundings. As a child you search out for reasons that people are the way that they are. I suppose it's because you have some false hope that, despite biblical teaching and what most adults MIGHT tell you early on- Man does not have a sinful nature.

I've always been quite the cynic- Most of my life actually. I've always claimed to know and understand that the internal battle of all mankind is to fight this sinful nature, and thus blamed any persons ingrained stupidity and jerkiness on this natural desire to do wrong and be- mean. Someone steals something- Oh well- Jerk being a jerk, I suppose. Someone lies- Liar lying- That's what we all have to fight. They'll learn. It wasn't until recently that this actually hit home. That I finally stopped viewing mankind cynically, and started to view them as people- With or without God, who have a duty to mankind or God (should they choose to follow Him) to fight this "dark side".

I'm reading a phenomenal book these days. "Blue Like Jazz". The book targets this thought process and the fall of man, etc. It's interesting the way God touches your life. I was driving in the car with my sweet tempered husband the other day, thinking about a person I've known for my entire life that grew up in dark circumstances, but moved from them as a young adult. I always gave credit to them for being "less" dark than the place that they spent the majority of their life. This is the thing though- They left those circumstances. They were brought into a world that didn't HAVE to fear, that didn't HAVE to be angry or feel hurt, and chose to be and feel those things anyway. By choosing evil over good, they inflicted it on ones they claimed to love, and so goes the vicious cycle. A persons circumstances create who they become in life, no more than one rainy day among a dozen of sunshine create a horrible climate to live in.

I've always been told that life is all about how I perceive my circumstances. If I see God in everything, I can't possibly become the darkness that I grew up in. There have been times when despite KNOWING that God is in everything, that I have chosen not to see Him, thus telling myself the He wasn't there. He was. He is. He has to be for us to move forward in our battle against darkness. I believe that anyway. (And you should too.)

I have to admit, it took a great amount of pressure off of me, to live in a "darker" climate. I was no more than a product of- "Them", and their "them" too. And then after leaving "them" there were always more "them's" that I placed conveniently in my life to explain my own dark feelings and disposition. I know now, that it all comes back to me- Me and how I choose to live this life that He has given me. I can wallow in my past or I can move forward to light. I can hide in my closet with my skeletons, or I can open the doors empty it out, clean out the cobwebs and lay it all down, and grow from the hurt. It's no more difficult a decision to sit there in repetition of the people before me, than it is to choose a better life for myself and my family. God's grace and mercy are there for our hard times too. They are there for growing and healing. He wants that for me. For all of us.

I choose grace and love despite my dark closet. My prayer is that you can learn to too.

Ode to naptime

It is nap time. I have a great appreciation for nap time for several reasons. One of those is the chance to be productive. On any given day, I wake up right around 800am. My husband leaves at about 730am. I allow him to think that I sleep in everyday until about ten. I do this for two reasons. 1) He then can feel that he is taking more of the greater role in usefulness, this makes him feel more manly, and alpha-male-y and happier when he gets home to a warm welcome after a long day of building things out of gummy bears at his desk... Yes, I shook my head as well, but that is a story for another time. Next reason 2) I JUST DON'T HAVE TIME TO TALK TO HIM UNTIL THEN!

At about 700am our dear bear-child awakens with little shouts of joy from his crib. He is such a good boy. He will lay in his crib and play with his animals, blankets, talk out the window with the birds for a solid hour, at least. I've noticed that his mood is not as pleasant during the rest of the day, if he does not have this closed door, uninterrupted alone time in the morning. By the time my man-child leaves for work, I have had him fooled into thinking that I do not hear the little X'er in the other room chatting and playing, and am soundly asleep. I already listed the reasons for this behavior.

I crawl and stumble my way out of bed to the bathroom by 800am after the once joyful cooes and chatter turn to whines and cries for attention and sustenance. Today was a delightful morning, as the bear has a seriously green-goo-flowing-from-the-nose issue. How I love teething, and other mommies who don't wash theirs or their children's hands. Whatever the reason for this slime, after wrastling (yes, wrAstling) the child into a clean diaper, and wiping him free of all sweaty smells and little balls of fuzz, I must now embark on the journey of the nose-sucker...

When you leave the hospital after giving birth the nurses give you this- well- nose sucker. It is a rubber ball with a tube fused to it. You squeeze the ball, forcing any air out, and then insert the tube into the baby's nose, release the ball, and it sucks the goo out of aforementioned child's nose, and into the hollow rubber ball. A perfect example of osmosis, actually. At any rate, my poor little boy doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, and in most cases, he does both. He laughs when I squeeze the ball to remove all air from it, making a high pitched squeal and forcing a rush of air, and then cries and raspberries (he raspberries when he is angry or upset- God bless him, I can't keep a straight face, when the child cries or yells in frustration, for this very reason!) as I use the sucker to remove all goo from the poor baby's nostrils. Finally I get to wiping any excess goo from his nose, and we then move on to breakfast.

Mealtimes are rarely a problem with the bear. He LOVES to eat. Most mornings we go with the good old juice/oatmeal/banana combo (in baby form of course). This morning was the same, with strawberries also in the mix, for added vitamin c. While he is sitting in his highchair playing- Post breakfast- I have a chance to text the husband good morning and see how his day is going thus far. We are right around nine thirty or ten am by this point.

We have what is supposed to be "Bear, learn to play on YOUR OWN" time, but really ends up being, "I will whine until you come play WITH me" time. I'm getting better about ignoring the whining and going about my chores. But it's still quite an issue. During this time, for five or so minutes here and there I will try to pay bills, make the necessary phone calls, clean, make beds, and get a load of wash into none other than the washer. On most days, the laundry and bill paying are the only things that are accomplished during this time. Phone calls are generally avoided during bear play time, as I never know whether I will catch a Jekyll or a Hyde mood.

Lunch is at noon, quickly followed by NAP TIME. At nap time, my sleepy child goes to bed for a good 3-4 hours. That is when the magic happens. I get to clean, and cook, and defrost, and call, and lastly, peruse the Internet as my heart desires. Rarely will I sleep. Sleeping would be the only thing that could make nap time more desirable. Wait, I lied- And ice cream. (Mmmmm) X-Man seems to have an espionage device built into his body which triggers an alarm anytime that I start to eat or sleep. Really. The second my head hits a pillow, or I raise silverware to my lips, the alarm, in the form of "Mommy come NOW" screams, sounds off.

But aye, I will not tarnish the bright and shiny gift from The Lord that is nap time by talks of its disturbance. People should make love songs about nap time. I have about an hour left, and there is steak which must be thawed and marinated. Until next time...

Rach