Chimes

Been thinking about something else lately...something that might set off chimes in the hearts of other middle-aged women, and a few men, too. The idea that sometimes we feel so far off of the divine script that we don't recognize ourselves anymore. My identity has, all of my life, been so meshed with Jesus and what I believe He is doing in my heart and life that now, with several years of arms-length distance between us, something like a frozen lake has developed between myself and that safe, familiar, heart-warming love of Christ. If you are a Christian, you know exactly what I mean. That dazzlingly pure, heart-stoppingly gorgeous, strong, full, fulfilling love and acceptance and PEACE that comes from being totally provided for, guided, and cared for in a mindlessly meaningless world. I have stopped practicing the presence of God, to borrow a phrase from a famous author. I want to start again. As I set off, adjusting my sails, borrowing my courage from the Holy Spirit, I cannot let myself drop the anchor of fear anymore. So many, many sidetrips have I made, my little craft held fast on foreign islands, anchored by FEAR! I have to move on, safe in the love of God, my face pressed to the carpet as I pray for direction. God has never failed me. I have failed to cling to Him.

So Exciting...

Took my son, who is a high school freshman, to school this morning as always. He is in his first nine-weeks of this new adventure. Suddenly, it occurred to me, the way it might dawn on someone that the sun is rising, that he is now nice to me more often than he used to be. A tiny wave of (cautious) relief washed over me. He is actuallly going to grow up, and we will be friends. Thanks, Lord. I needed that. Realized that I had a knot in my gut from the moment I woke up this morning. Think it might have something to do with yesterday's blog post, with musings about the validity of all of my choices. You know that commercial running now that says "What if all of your missed opportunities were all grouped in one room"? Well, this morning it has been as if they were all tied to my back and somehow my stomach got involved. Had to dump out my coffee at a redlight on the way to Centennial High. I'm sort of excited, actually. I think I might actually respond to such heavy stimuli and, well, TAKE A RISK. I have started two novels, both of which were summarily wiped out by a computer crash. Isn't it interesting that I reacted to their loss with a yawn? They were not the ones. The Bible makes it clear that life is an adventure and, for the Christian, one lived through the limitless resources of Christ. He is also limitlessly creative in the ways He brings about change and momentum in our lives. Lastly, He is the source of all creativity so, if it's an idea you need, He'll bring one or three to the table. It's so exciting to know Him.

Choices

Today I did something no suburban housewife in the throes of a fully-developed midlife crisis should EVER do. I googled a classmate (I will not divulge whether she was a classmate in elementary, middle, high school, college or grad school) who pursued a career path similar to the one that I would have chosen had I not decided to stay home with my sons. Suffice it to say that, in the career realm, she rose directly to the top. I cannot list her achievements because you may know her, or at least know of her. It's that big. Sooooooo. Googled her. Depressed all afternoon. Felt the weight of my choices. I don't regret staying home with my sons. Would have regretted abandoning them for a high-flying career. Really. I am serious. Today's little foray into the outside world via my laptop did not pay off for me, though, despite my pride in the decision to stay home. I once again reflected on some forks in the road at which I have to wonder if I took what appeared to be the risk-free choice. I remember the Public Relations Director at LSU saying to me "We hope we can say we knew you when," when he was telling me he had found a way to raise my graduate assistant salary (I was a newswriter) so that I wouldn't take a job at a local magazine and leave his department. I am not bragging. I'm just admitting that I had choices at the outset of my adult life. I could have worked somewhere, written some things people would have read. Met some seriously interesting people. Sometimes I believe I would have garnered some more respect than the level I currently enjoy as head servant at 209 Jaclyn. Other times, I look at photos of my kids as babies and I am instinctively, over-the-top thrilled that I was always there. Always. This blog entry reads like a last will and testament. It's not. My life is only half over. I can still write (question in my voice). Actually, on a serious note, sometimes I truly believe that I didn't have anything to say until now. Not until I had ridden life's roller coaster up one side of laundry hill and back down into the valley of flea treatments for soda-stained playroom carpets, around the hairpin turns of progress reports, the loop-de-loops of middle-school drama, the angst of SUDDEN sleepover wakeups at 2:00 a.m. (WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAVE MADE THAT NOISE?), and the rush of a thousand carline "go-ahead" gestures. Okay. So maybe I simply cannot be serious. Maybe hidden somewhere in my future is something related to my propensity to laugh my way from tragedy to triumph and right back again. Oh, and note to self: "Google child stars that fizzled out, or dot.com failures in the future."

What if...

Gene Simmons, famous rocker best-known for moral turpitude of every stripe, said something pretty interesting lately on his horrific little reality show. "What if," he said (and I am strictly paraphrasing here) everything I did in all those years that I was building myself up was wrong?" He was supposedly desperate to mend fences with his common-law wife, who had briefly dragged her designer suitcases over to a hotel. Many of you may be asking yourselves why I would have been watching such a television program. The answer is that I do not know. It stands for everything I oppose. Gene's remark, however, did give me pause as I channel-surfed that afternoon. "What if," I asked myself, "all of my escape-oriented behaviors have added up to one big wrong life? What if all of the things I thought I could get away with not doing I will now pay for for the rest of my life? What if I made a wrong turn at some point in my life's history and now nothing will ever really fit right for the rest of my days on this earth?" These are questions I have wrestled with a lot lately. They are classic mid-life queries for which I have no real answer. I do know that in every case in which I ran for cover into my escape activities (and they were all legal and "moral") it was because I was overwhelmed by a depression and anxiety as powerful as the undertow of a storm-tossed sea. I just have never let God free me from those two ultra-ugly destroyers. I know He wants to. I know He loves me. Maybe what I should focus on for whatever time I have left on this broken sod is just letting Him be my strength. Maybe I wouldn't stumble and fall so heartbreakingly hard if I weren't looking back while running from my fears. I am a lonely person. I have a lonliness that opens like a cavern in the desert, miles deep with nothing but sand tumbling in. The only antidote for that is Jesus. I know that. He's the only one who comes in when all of the users go on out. If it were not for my husband and children, the three people I love most on the earth, I would be lost. As much joy as they bring me, I still wonder if I would have been a much better wife and mother had I made myriad different choices in my relationships with them. Been a better example for the kids. Contributed more to the world through my talents, time and energy. Been a better friend who didn't reject before she was rejected. Brought more to my marriage through income rather than food no one wants to eat. You get the picture. I don't get a do-over. I guess I'll have to settle for a do-better. From this point on, of course.