afterthoughts

afterthoughts, 2nd hand leftovers.

you keep thinking in your head, in fact you’ve convinced yourself of this, that you are in fact, not an afterthought.

but then, alone in your room,

as you digest and mull over the reality…

you listen to the voices in  your head, you decide you are.

it’s lonely, being an afterthought.

you try to stop caring, you try to empty your head of the thought of them.   you try to let it not bother you.  because to care for someone and to think of them always and to be nothing more than an afterthought of theirs, that’s pathetic right? you try to not focus on it, you try to pretend you matter just as much to them, you try to busy yourself with the mundane in hopes to overshadow what you feel. 

it doesn’t work.

you lay there in the silence. 

you might cry or you might be angry or you might feel taken advantage of or you might feel like you’ve done it again.  you’ve become someones option while they have remained your clear choice.  and it’s happened before.  with friends, with guys, with those you looked up to. 

why?

simple.  because you buy into the lie.   you buy into the notion that you’re sub-par, that you actually ARE an afterthought.  you are loved without a shadow of a doubt even if not by those you wish would.

absolute “truths” of childhood

when i was little, there were certain things that i understood to be absolute truths.  things that i was without a shadow of a doubt, convinced were the way they were just because, and didn’t give a second thought to the fact that they could be or exist any other way. 

north was up, literally up, towards the sky.  south was down toward my feet and through the ground, east was right and west was left.  those 2 were a little more tricky.  they moved depending on where i was standing.  if i turned around, left was still west and right was still east.  that’s just the way it was.  because, why would it be any other way? i mean really.  on maps it’s that way!

it was also a ‘fact’ that 2 year olds were horrible human beings.  i even wrote a paper in one of my classes, 4th grade or something, about this very fact.  one of my sisters was 2.  it was terrible.  my mom recently found the paper and showed it to me.  it was hilarious and perfectly illustrated how every older sibling feels about their younger 2yr. old brother or sister.  they cry all the time, they are selfish and demanding, they have the parents wrapped around their little chubby sticky fingers, and they totally know what they are doing.  so manipulative!  they are not quite evil incarnate, because back then i only associated calling something ‘evil’ with such things as the only thing that should actually be called evil in all truth the devil himself.  as opposed to now when i use that label for things such as spiders, birds, and all things teen disney.  but i digress… 2 year olds were horrible.  they were just barely above that ‘evil’ line.  and the only reason they were allowed to exist in homes, i was convinced, was because they were so cute.  take my sister julie for example,  she was probably (sorry janna & jessica!) the cutest 2 yr. old that i’ve ever seen.  ever.  even still.  so when i wasn’t avoiding her like the plague, and when she wasn’t being perfectly wretched (because 2 yr. olds were always wretched), i thought she was like my personal doll.  so cute!! which, was also, her downfall in my eyes because she got so much attention for her cuteness that i soon grew resentful.  psh.  danged 2 yr. olds!! fortunately, i’ve outgrown this.  she’s still cute but she’s no longer wretched!

another absolute truth, snow was magical.  literally.  it was sparkly, it made everything pretty and made everything quiet and peaceful and put everyone in a good mood.  ok, now as an adult i realize that snow doesn’t make everyone happy but when i was younger, everyone worth knowing thought it was great.  how could it not be the most wonderful thing ever?  school was cancelled because of it, you could throw it, you could eat it (much to the shagrin of my mother), you could build things out of it, you could burry your sisters in it, you could sled on it, you could gaze out the window at it and it sparkled like mini diamonds and it usually meant you were either to soon receive presents (for my birthday or for christmas) or, you had just received them.  it was glorious!! snow was magical.  bottom line. 

disney movies were cinematic genius, hot dogs were gourmet, mac n’ cheese was supposed to be neon orange, and potato bugs were created f0r my personal delight. oh childhood, how i miss you so!

to whom it may concern

dear striking teachers,
you are making us all look bad. as a fellow teacher who is currently unemployed, i am irritated at you. i realize teachers are underpaid. and in a different time economically, i’d fully support some sort of action to petition for better contracts and so on. and i plan on doing so in the future. however, we live in the here and now and i think you are being selfish. i have dozens of teacher friends who can’t find teacher jobs because there aren’t openings and if there are, it’s like a free-for-all to try to get those precious few spots. and you have the audacity to stand there parading around saying it’s for the children and you’d like to have smaller class sizes. again, in a perfect world class sizes should be smaller. but i’d take a class of 45 over NOT HAVING CLASSES to teach at all. you should consider yourself lucky. also, when i was interning, i had one year a class that was about 20-ish in size and was a ‘perfect class.’ the following year i had a class that was 30+. in that class it was pretty split down the middle, half were very high achieving and the other half were well below standard. to add to the mix, i also had the autistic program in there and several kids who required IEPs (individual education plans.) if me, an intern at the time, can manage and flourish in that setting, you should be able to. if you can’t, might i suggest you sharpen your classroom management skills (i have a book you can borrow if you’d like, it’s even higlighted for your convenience), save your complaining for an appropriate time, and get back in your classroom. there is a fast growing discontent mob of teachers-without-classrooms that will soon be reaking havoc on your little picket parties if you don’t. not to mention, striking in WA is illegal. great example to the kids, good job.
sincerely,
me

bittersweet

 bittersweet. i’m stepping down from youth ministry & looking for a new church.  this year has been somewhat of a roller coaster church wise for me.  but this one has been the toughest one.  after the church plant i was part of dissolved, i was left with a decision to make:  would i make the move with the youth i’d been involved with up to the church where our lead pastor was being hired as youth pastor, or would i branch out and try somewhere new?  i decided to go with the kids up north and try out the new church and to transition them into the new group.  well fast-forward 6 months to now and the time has come to step out into something new.  i desperately miss the street ministry available downtown.  i miss volunteering @ a food bank, i miss the community centers, i miss ministering in my actual physical community.  i could have done those things in addition to being involved in the church up north but i didn’t want to split my time and do either a dis-service by half-assing my responsibilities.  being up there was very good for me!  i was challenged to form my own opinions about what a community was, to learn what my strengths were, to evaluate if what i was involved with was actually what i ought to be involved with and is that where God would best want me. 

i fell in  love with the ministry and idea of living a missional life that my former church emphasized and i’ve missed the city that i love and i’ve missed being able to merge those 2 things.  you can live a missional life anywhere but when you get to do so in the area where your heart wants to be, it’s even better!  i love youth.  i love being able to be an integral part of developing adults. being able to positively influence and support them in ways that i’ve been able to.  and i will continue those relationships and will miss wednesday nights where i’ve spent time with them and given my time and efforts and energy.  it’s bittersweet for me.  on the one hand, i feel very liberated and free and see endless possibility as to what my next step is but on the other hand i will miss it so much.  i’m nervous about church hunting, and i’m apprehensive at my ability to maintain the relationships i’ve built during my time with them.   it will be good.  it will be ok.  and new adventures await me.

the morning & she

she woke up nearly an hour and a half before she needed to be up so she put on a half pot of coffee.  she grabbed her newest used book purchase and made ready a comfy spot on the couch.  when the coffee was ready she reached up to her “mug” shelf.  as with a lot of things in her life, each mug had a sort of memory attached to it.  selecting one, she pulled it down, filled it and nestled into the corner of the over-sized couch.  this morning it was a dark blue with white speckles and silver rimmed tin mug.  it reminded her of early days at girl scout camp-outs and morning breakfasts at the family summer cabin.  quick little memories paraded through her head as she took her first few sips.  the metal clank as her finger nails clicked the side, the extra warm touch because of the thin tin, the way it felt in her hands… then, as quickly as they began, the memory parade stopped and she returned to her sleepy morning of coffee and reading.

the strange things we hold onto

i locked my door this morning as i left for work and looked at my keys.  i noticed a key from my old Saturn.  i haven’t had that car in months and months since it self-destructed in a car fire.  so why on earth would i keep the key on my key chain?  i vividly remember the weeks after the fire, i noticed the key was still there too.  i remember it still smelled like that sour yellow electrical fire smell.  not that i make a habit of smelling my keys, i just remember that smell being so strong that it permeated the black plastic top part of the key.  it doesn’t smell smokey anymore but the fact that the key itself remains on my key chain is interesting to me.  why DO we hold on to the things that we do?  i’ve worked hard to overcome my pack-rat tendencies, i’m making progress.  but, the things i wonder the most about, are the things such as my key, the things that make no sense to hang onto, and are connected to a very unpleasant experience.  another example is a phone number i have saved still in my phone.  it’s the # of a friend of mine who died last month.  i was scrolling through my phone looking for a particular # and i paused on hers.  i couldn’t delete it.  why?  it’s not like i’ll be using it.  it’s not like deleting it will somehow vaporize all memories of her.  and quite frankly, seeing the # there in my phone with her name by it made me sad.  so why would i keep hold of a sad thing like that?  i’m not in denial, i’m not keeping it because i subconsciously think that by deleting it will be admitting that she is gone.  so why?  it’s interesting which memories stick out in our minds the most clearly too.  i am fuzzy on memories from the camping trip i just took last weekend but i can vividly remember snippets from Halloween night when i was like 6 or 7 when we got news that my dad’s best friend had been murdered.  i remember clearly how my heart sunk when i heard the official news that the church i had been part of helping plant downtown, was dissolving.  i remember all to well the every detail of when my car was on fire, when i got the phone call that elisa had died, when i was sitting across from the doctor and he told me that i’d have to have knee surgery… why on earth would these things remain so clear in my mind?  we do remember the happy times, but why is it that we hold onto the things like a key or phone #’s we’ll never use?  i hold onto lots of strange things, but these are different kinds of things.  i have some sort of strange self-imposed rule that i hold onto gifts that i don’t like but were given to me by relatives of close friends, that i need to hold onto them for a certain amount of time before it’s acceptable to either re-gift them or to donate them or something.  but those are silly things that mean nothing.  the keys and # are very much not like that.  so why do we hold onto the strange things we do?  hm…

camping

just before this picture was taken, we were “playing” in some old military bunkers (the camp we stayed @ was Fort Flagler) and i was running in the pitch dark and tripped and totally fell and twisted my bad knee.  i was and still am walking all wonky, hence the huge walking stick and my strange posture!  we blamed the ghosts of soldiers past for tripping me… makes me feel less dumb!

this is Michelle being all super sassy and stuff.  she is modeling her new (used) camping flannel in which she purchased especially for this trip.  the previous owner (bill) wrote his name with marker on the inside collar.  her camp name was from then on… Bill!

 

 

 

 

here Jen demonstrates the proper way to eat red vines whilst camping:  3 at a time from a 4lb. tub!! we have decided that red vines are the crack of candy… they’re so frickin addicting!! we took solace in the fact that they are fat free.  it made us feel less guilty for engorging ourselves on them.

 

 

 

while coffee was a staple for us on our camping trip, i’ll be honest… this particular picture, i am drinking whiskey.  it was just after we got back to the campsite and my knee was pretty tender.  Jen says whiskey makes everything better!  while that may not be exactly true… it was mighty tasty and i felt all sneaky and stuff drinking it from my mug!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

it was pretty cloudy the day we ventured down to the beach but it was still pretty warm.  you can either camp in the upper loop where we were which is in the woods, or down in the lower loop which is by the beach.  mostly campers and RVs camp down there.  it was a great beach!  nice and sandy, lots of sealife, and great open views. 

 

 

we roasted our potatoes in the fire coals.  it would have worked out really well had we monitored them a little closer and not charred them.  it was all good though, we scooped out the insides and it was still good.  it’s a good way to do rustic potatoes!  this method also works for a great banana dessert.  you take a banana, peal back a strip of peel, put peanut butter and chocolate and if you want, marshmallow in the slit of the banana, fold the peel flap back over and tightly wrap the whole thing with foil.  then you set it in the coals and let it get all melty and stuff.  SO GOOD!!!

on the ferry on our way over to Fort Flagler!  so much fun.  3 days in the woods is all you need to feel like a get away. 

random musings and reflections from camping:

*as much as it pains me to say this, i feel i might be too old (or wimpy!) to sleep on the ground with no air mattress anymore.  we were all so sore in the morning!

*apparently it is a federal offense to mis-use your bug spray.  oops!  it was so fun to spray it over the fire (not directly into it… we at least were safe in that regard!) and watch it sparkle and fizz. 

*vegetarian chili (Nalleys) is actually pretty good!  it satisfies the vegetarians and non red-meat eaters (Michelle!!!) among you but is also delicious over a hot dog.  yum!

*camping at old military forts is awesome!  everyone loves playing in and on and around all the old bunkers, armouries, barracks, and gun magazines! 

*we got to go to a cheesery (probably called a creamery) and watch them make cheese.  it was really interesting!  and delish.  if you’re on the peninsula, i’d recommend going to Mt. Townsend Creamery.  they make good stuff!

all in all it was a great time.  i haven’t been actual camping since i was in high school.  none of us had!  we all came back sore, dirty, tired and slightly hung over from too much sugar but it was so worth it!

‘the edge of surrender’

i read a book recently that had a quote in it that made me pause to consider what it meant.  part of the quote had the snippet “the edge of surrender” in it.  surrender can mean many different things depending on the circumstances we are in.  it can be bad or good.  it can be the difference between life or death.  it can be spiritual in nature.  i was struck by the words.  not so much the surrender part, but being on the edge of it.  what takes us to the edge of surrender?  it’s probably the most alive we feel.  whether it’s the physical act of surrendering or the spiritual act of surrender… we in that moment, where we teeter on the edge of it, feel the most alive.  it’s in this moment where we are at the climax of decision.  everything in our current life has built up to this moment.  surrender, in whatever form, is the ultimate fork in the road.  you cannot kinda-sorta-maybe surrender.   you either do or you don’t.  you can’t spiritually surrender and then take it back.  if you think you’ve done that, then  you truly haven’t surrendered to God.  in the military, if you surrender, if you wave that white flag, you can’t be like “oh, just kidding.  about that whole surrender thing, yeah, i take that back.”  you could try, but i imagine  you’d get a highly undesired response.  when we are on the edge of surrender, we are at that crucial point where we go left or right, we are at the fork in the road, there is no 3rd option.  it doesnt’ mean that surrender is the right choice, but to be on the edge of possible surrender means that we are on a course change for our lives.  to be at that moment is exhilarating!  it makes me feel alive, it makes me terrified, and it makes me think.

grief

when someone dies, you experience the full spectrum of emotion.  the expression “heart ache” is true.  whether or not it’s an expected death or an unexpected one, it hurts.  when my grandpa died it felt like someone had pushed me in the pool or something.  i didn’t know which way to go.  i didn’t know whether to be sad or to be mad or to be happy he wasn’t suffering anymore.  i didn’t know if i wanted to cry because i knew i’d miss him for a long time, or if i wanted to laugh at a dumb joke he had told me once that popped into my head as i remembered him.  i did a lot of both.  last week the father of some kids i know passed away unexpectedly.  i didn’t know him personally but i knew his family and i knew a lot of people who did know and love him.  and i felt bad, but i felt more sad for those he left behind than i did for his death specifically.  i can’t even begin to comprehend what it must feel like to lose a dad.  the thought of losing my dad brings tears to my eyes quite literally.  it made me think of my dad’s best friend who was murdered when i was younger.  i cried because my dad cried, i cried because his children didn’t have a daddy anymore.  and this last week i was reminded of that.  then, this morning, a long time family friend of mine passed away.  i experienced again, that chaos of trying to figure out what i felt.  i was in shock when i got the phone call at 8:30 this morning.  i was quiet and sat down on my bed and tears came silently down my cheek.  my hands were shaky as i tried to fix my hair and makeup to make myself look less like an emotion basket-case.  there was that pit of your stomach pain from the initial news.  then there was, however needless or not it may have been, i felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.  she and i didn’t always see eye to eye and for lack of a better way to say it, she annoyed and aggravated me more often than not.  but she was dealing with an enormous amount of baggage in her own life and over the last little while had become increasingly unhappy and hard to be around.  i remembered back to the last conversation i had about her and it was less than nice.  i didn’t dislike her at all, i just remembered that being the last thing i thought about her and i felt guilt times ten for that.  i cared about her, she knew that, but still there was that feeling of guilt.  the next emotion was what i knew was coming, the conversation that would need to come with those who i had to notify about this, including the group of youth kiddos that she worked with us with.  being a support for people has always been something i’ve been good at, as odd as that sounds.  but this is a whole other level of support.  after the initial shock of it all wore off, i felt better.  then i talked to my mom and almost lost it again.  then i got a message back from this girl’s brother.  i think he’s a lot like me in that he processes through written words.  i had sent him a message this morning when i got to work extending condolences and prayers etc.. .and anyhow, his response was that of peace and love and strength.  which, of the 2 of us, really should have been me.  but he was so together.  it calmed me down and all at the same time, made me cry.  i think that next to pure joy and love, that grief is the emotion that makes us feel the most human or connected to others.  it’s the only emotion that conjures up laughter through tears, joy in spite of extreme pain, and provides both the road to bitterness and healing simultaneously, leaving which one we choose up to us.  interesting indeed.

in the blink of an eye

i’ve often wished my eyes were cameras where i could snap a photo with a blink.  i stare out my window as i drive and see a striking image and in the blink of an eye the image is changed or gone.  i look up at the sky and am in awe of the sunsets over the water and in the blink of an eye the sun sets and it’s dark.  i see sweet interaction between a father and son as i walk around the lake and in the blink of an eye the kid goes from giggling and smiles to screaming fits of toddler rage.  spur of the moment get-togethers with friends that turn into the most fun you’ve had all week and in the blink of an eye, we’re all home and in bed and no photo was taken. 

thru my eyes i see your world,

thru my lens another viewpoint is exposed.

photos capture the subtle things in the chaos of the moment.

photos capture the joy in the eyes,

eyes that are so wrapped up in the moment that they don’t see how beautiful they are.

we will always remember weddings, birthdays, holidays and celebrations,

but photos are snap shots and still frames our minds might be otherwise inclined to forget. 

taking pictures is therapeutic for me.  half of them i don’t use.  the way i look at it is, if you take 50 shots, at least 20 of them are guaranteed to be decent.  i think for me too, if i’m in a funk or i’m having a bad day, or i’m sad or depressed or needing a hug but no one is around, or i’m being an irrational female… whatever it is… looking at those pictures can be calming or can life you up or can make you smile.  even if one small smile is the result, it’s worth it.  the capturing of a beautiful sunset or of the beach with mt. rainier in the background can serve as reminder of how magnificent creation is.  not that we don’t recognize this, but sometimes living in a cement jungle we forget just how beautiful the world is.  and if in the small moments in our daily life, those small but beautiful moments can be captured…