Just Odd.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm odd. I really do.

All my life I have preferred to be alone. I can remember playing alone a lot as a child. I don't know if it was me responding to my surroundings or just the way I am. I'm the youngest child. So young in fact (he he- that's for my sister) that at times it was like I was an only child. My sister is ten years older, my brother almost thirteen years older. My brother was married and out of the house when I was six, and I was an aunt a month shy of my seventh birthday.

I've never made friends easily. I'm not easily impressed. I'm not a snob, I just have a hard time giving my time and energy to people that I don't respect so my circle of friends has always been small. Aside from my family (the built in friends) and my church family (pretty much like blood relatives to me) I have roughly two friends.

I'm a hermit. One of those social oddities that could, in fact, not leave the house for a week and not notice. My kids will start to get stir crazy and I'll realize that we haven't left our house or yard for a few days.

I get depressed when I go into public sometimes. See this is where I start to wonder if I'm normal, if normal people think this way. We live near a highway that is absolutely saturated with stores and restaurants of all kinds. If it isn't on that highway then it doesn't exist. It depresses me. Society is weird and all that "want" in one place is sort of mind blowing.

I had to do a lot of research in school on artists. I was in an AP art program and it was part of the class I think. I'm pretty sure that was the one. Anyways, the common thread with artistic people I found often was that they can easily get lost in themselves and struggle with relationships. Not in a selfish way, their minds just operate differently...clearly. I'm not sitting here proclaiming greatness. It feels ridiculous to refer to myself as an "artist", but I definitely don't think the same way that a lot of people do.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm good for my kids. I talk to my kids, but I'm not a talker. Those people that you see in public that constantly talk to their children weird me out. I educate my children, we cook together, we play sports and we take walks, but a lot of the time I'm quiet. I just hope that someday they don't think that I didn't care because I had my nose in a book a lot, or music was our background noise instead of chatter.

The only reassurance that I have is that they love to watch me create. They are absolutely wowed when they watch me paint. They think I'm magic. Once again, this isn't me with a blown up ego, they are children. Maybe that's how we communicate?

I'm not one to care what other people think, or compare myself, so maybe I shouldn't bother at all. But I do wonder. I will freely admit that I wonder. I rarely connect with people and feel like I can be myself without people glazing over, or not knowing what to say back. People have said that I'm strange, my own mother. Joking of course, and I'm not offended, but I know that I'm different and that on some level she means it.

I also doubt myself as a Christian. We're supposed to be hospitable, and reach out...be social. It's hard for me. The only reason that people can even begin to think that I'm social is because I have consciously worked on being social for God. When Richie and I were first married I was so backwards socially that he did all the talking. I just stood behind him. I try now. I ask questions and I push my boundaries. Sometimes I even enjoy it.

I just hope that I don't ruin my kids.

The Joy List

I have a really great life. Really! I'm not just blowing daisies up your butt. I've been working hard lately at filtering out toxic things and people, and I'm trying to be as positive about things as possible. Except when I PMS. Sorry, but I can only give so much. My new favorite word is Joy. So I'm going to make a list here about what makes me joyful, or what I appreciate, on a monthly basis. It's just impossible to throw a pity party for yourself when you count your blessings. Bring on the JOY!

• Family. I have a big family, and I'm thankful for every one of them. Cousins that are my best friends, aunts and uncles that are so awesome I feel right at home in their homes, and of course my immediate family. There just aren't enough words to say how great they are.


• A warm, dry home. It may seem basic, but it really isn't. In some countries my home would be considered a palace. I've been blessed enough to have a husband who works harder than anyone I've ever known, and he's given us a great place to call our own.


• Clean water. It may seem corny but every time I turn on the water to do the dishes I praise God for giving me clean water. Think about how hard it would be to get through the day without clean water. A lot of people don't have it. I'm blessed!


• Good health. Without good health you have nothing.


• The freedom to sit in church and worship my God without having to fear for my life.


• My Bible. It's as basic and needed as food on the table and that clean water that I was talking about. It's my sanity, and everything good. What on earth would I do without it?


• My dog. He's me shadow and my little heater. He never judges me, and loves me unconditionally. Plus, he is so stinkin' cute!

I don't multitask.

Yes that's right. I don't multitask. It's just not within me. I am my father's child. I concentrate on one thing and do it well, or at least try to. Wait, wait, maybe I do multitask. I can eat cheesy poofs and blog at the same time. Talent I tell you. So my life is difficult right now by the most selfish and pathetic standards. I'm really beating myself up this week and telling myself that I suck a lot. I'm trying to honor some commitments and on top of my usual life it's too much. It's sad really. My house is a wreck, my children have eaten a lot of crap this week, and I'm stressed so I'm an emotional-eating-war path-walking-nut. Then I get stressed because I've eaten too much and my yoga pants are all that fit. *sigh* I'm overwhelmed. Where's the pie?

A new focus.

I have been in an almost constant Bible study this week. It never ceases to amaze me all that can be answered by studying the gospel.

The virtuous wife (Proverbs 10-31) is my absolute favorite when it comes to Godly guidance for women, but I read Titus 2 tonight and I've decided to add that to my focus. Verse 7 and 8 I found to be most useful right now. "in all things showing yourself to be a pattern of good works; in doctrine showing integrity, reverence, incorruptibility, (8) sound speech that cannot be condemned, that one who is an opponent may be ashamed, having nothing evil to say of you."

That's what I'll be working on.

Cast Your Pearls Before Swine

People can be prideful hypocrites. People can be so wrapped up in their own pride that they forget to worry about anyone else's feelings.

And you know what? I feel really badly for people like that. I may not have time to waste on prideful peoples' outbursts and callus comments, but I do have time to feel badly for these people, and pity them.

So I'll get to the point of this post. One of my all time favorite Bible verses. This verse has seen me through a lot of tough situations with people. When I feel like someone has had no regard for my feelings I read this passage.

"Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces."

It calms me and keeps me from telling people what I really think.

My baptism.

This is so personal that I feel strange writing about it, but I feel like I need to write it down. I want to remember. If I commit this to paper it is likely that it would get colored on, or cut up.

I was baptized on my birthday, March 7th.

It's been a long road spiritually for me. A lot of ups and downs. Typical I suppose. A lot of drifting away due to my own poor choices, a church that practically changed overnight and made me doubt a lot, people who betrayed me, a lot of doubt, a lot of praying and studying the gospel, a lot of wandering from church to church, and then one of the best gifts that God has ever given me. One of the best gifts being our new church and the people in it.

I've always had ideas on baptism that no one else seemed to share. Although it is an outward expression, it is also deeply personal. Just like the birth of my children, although fantastic, it is not something that I felt I wanted to put on display. I wanted to love the person that baptised me. I do know that baptism is about me and Christ, and my commitment to him, but it's such an intimate experience that this was important to me. Trust was an issue, I've been burned before. I let a man marry Richie and I that I no longer have any respect for. I didn't want a person like that involved with my baptism. I didn't want to be standing in front of a church full of people. I wanted it to be a small group, I wanted it quiet, and I didn't want the pomp and circumstance. Pretty much how I should have had my wedding.

Richie and I were going to get baptized together on the same day, but he took off like the bullet from a gun one Sunday morning and left me in the dust. Which is great! I'm glad he did. I wasn't about to do it on a Sunday morning, though.

Although my 26th year isn't significant, I wanted to give a gift to myself this year. Declare a redo, and work towards my biggest goal for this year, to be closer to Christ. I woke up at 5am on my birthday, which is strange. I listened to Mumford and Sons for five hours straight before the kids got up. I had more time to think than I've had in over five years. I called Richie and asked him to call one of our elders, Bob, and ask him if he could meet us at the church at 6:45 that night to baptize me. We organized the family from there, and I got lost in house cleaning because the nerves were getting to me. It's overwhelming, and it's a lot to process all at once. At least it was for me.

Before I knew it, my dad was at my door, and it was time to go. He broke the news to me that Richie was running late and that he would meet us there. We got there an hour before Richie did. We all sat and talked, our two elders, their wives, Mom & Dad, Jec, the kids, Abe and myself. Richie finally arrived and then my brother shortly after him. I was talking about how Richie is the reason that we run late to church most Sunday mornings as he walked in, and my mom told me to get my lying in before I was baptized. I've never been what you would call punctual.

It was time, and by this point I was so calm it was numbing. We decided that Richie should be the one to baptize me. I said that it was fine as long as he didn't drown me and leave me for dead. Bob took my confession, and I went to get changed. Bob took Richie with him. My attire was hilarious. A white wife beater type one piece, a navy blue body suit made out of a material similar to a cape you wear when getting your hair cut, and a white robe. And then the elders' wives pointed out the water shoes. Lime green water shoes. If you know me, then you know that I could never walk out sporting those, and be straight faced about it. I went bare foot.

I got to the stairs of the baptistery, and Richie wasn't there. He only had to put waders on, and I beat him. I promptly turned to the elders' wives behind me and told them, "See, I'm always on time". It was at that point that I heard Vince's voice (our other elder). His voice was louder than the rest and I realized what they were all singing. It was Amazing Grace, one of my favorites. I don't know if he asked for one of my favorites, and my family told him, or he just chose it, but it was perfect. I stood there and appreciated Vince's voice because I had never before noticed how nice it was.

Richie finally made it out and the only thing I remember about walking into the baptistery was having to pull up my robe so that I didn't trip, and looking down at my feet when I stepped into the baptistery. I'll never forget what the cranberry colored nail polish on my toes looked like as I stepped into the water. The rest is a bit of a smudge in my memory. I was so calm and at peace that it was practically a high, and it's blurred the most important part. I do remember Richie's prayer afterwards. His most eloquent prayer yet. At least that I've heard aloud. I also remember going to walk away and Richie grabbing my arm to pull me back to hug me and kiss my neck three times, and they all made a loud squeaking noise on my wet neck.

Getting back into my regular clothes should have been an Olympic sport, because the plastic-ey, blue, body suit was completely stuck to my body and I wasn't about to call someone back to rip it off of me as I stood there in my wet wife beater one piece. Ewww. I finally got it off with minimal pain.

I came out and hugged everyone. Some of the sweetest and most sincere kisses and hugs that I've ever received.

I was expecting fireworks, or white lights, but what I got was much better. It was peace, and serenity, and love. It was exactly how I wanted it. It was as if every event in my life had culminated and brought me to this beautiful moment.

And now the most important job of my life starts. I've picked up my cross and started walking.

The grand finale.

Well that's what I get for making fun of someones muffin top. Karma strikes.

If I give you this background information then everything will make more sense. Victoria HATES jeans, or any sort of pant with a waistband. Proceed.

Since Richie left to go out of town dinners have been a little crazy. We had nothing in the house when he left. I'd rather drive pencils into my eardrums then take them both to the store alone. Tonight was supposed to be me taking the kids to McDonald's. We were going to go to one with a play place. I even got online and found a McDonald's with a play place, and had the directions memorized. I was going to kill two birds with one stone: wear their butts out and feed them food that I wouldn't feed my dog.

Well, then Victoria stepped in dog poop. Outside you say? No. In our spare bedroom. I'll kill the dog later. Then I roll up her pant legs and stand her in the tub to wash her feet. With two slippery feet she windmills, falls on her butt, and soaks her pants. Not just her pants, the last clean pair of stretch pants. *gasp* Now there are only jeans left. *gasp again* Wailing, screaming, and general anarchy ensues. I then break the news to Tristan that although he was so good, McDonald's and the play place is out. It's too late. We have to pick dad up in an hour, it just won't work. Wailing, screaming, and general anarchy ensues. I finally pin Victoria down and put a pair of jeans on her. On the way out of her bedroom Tristan pulls too hard on the door knob, it comes off and falls on a china doll that I've had since I was a kid, and shatters its head. I hold back tears and try to sneak out of her room with what's left of the doll without her seeing. She sees. Wailing, screaming, and general anarchy ensues.

Now we're sitting here eating dinner rolls and dried cherries. We're all starving. Richie will be so happy to see us with tear streaked cheeks and in hypoglycemic shock.

I'll never make fun of someones muffin top again.