Sometimes Silence Is Good

Some events are unfolding.
News no one wants to hear.
At present I'm refusing to process.

It seems utterly insane to post the trivial about my life at present.

I'm taking a break.
I'll be back later.

Roses and Firelight

Sometimes life does imitate art.

Last night our family room looked like a Norman Rockwell.

There was a fire in the fire place, all cozy and warm. The Little Mr.'s were lying side by side on their tummies facing the glow, one doing math, the other "reading" his book. The Mr. and I in our chairs just behind them, a baby asleep in his arms, our faithful hound curled up between us.

It really was this picture perfect.

And it lasted for more than a few minutes.

A small simple little slice of peaceful tranquility in our corner of the world.

Oh, yeah, and The Mr. delivered.

Can I Just Say

Sometimes Autism can provide some really funny moments in life.

We're driving home from piano lessons and the sound level in the van is about 12 decibels above what a normal human should ever be exposed to. In the middle of it all, I hear some really amusing stuff.

The Little Mr. is alternately singing his version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and repeating whole sections of dialogue from the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off. That in itself if pretty funny.

Rudolph, the red nose reindeer, had a very shiny nose,
and if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows

Bueller, Bueller, Bueller, Has anyone seen Bueller?
I hear he's sick.
Not likely.

All of the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names...

Now, ask me, would you, when was the last time we watched that movie. I'm guessing it's been almost a year, quite possibly longer.

15

Out my window today I see the same day I saw 15 years ago.

The sky is pure Autumn blue. The leaves are golden orange. The air is crisp with the promise of afternoon warmth.

It was exactly the same then.

My schedule for the day was a little different though.

There was hair to be done up. A photographer waiting. Actually a little more than 100 people waiting.

The Mr. was waiting.

It was our day.
It is our day.

We held hands.
We lit a candle.
We traded some promises, some rings.

There were more photos.
A limo ride to the lake.
Dinner. Cake. Dancing.

And then, the last song played, the lights came up and it was time to go.

And now, it's that same day, 15 years later.

Happy Anniversary Mr., There's still a sunrise after every sunset.

Weekend Recap

Friday night we had a sitter and a gift certificate.

Every parent alive knows what that meant. The Mr. and I went out for dinner. We went to a very fancy adult only place. We were celebrating or perhaps reminiscing.

You see, Wednesday is our anniversary. We'll be married 15 years. That's a pretty long time by today's standards. More amazing still was that as we sat and talked, we realized just how young we are and how many years we could end up being married in the end.

Dinner was truly extravagant. Espresso martini, amazing steak topped with crab, appetizers, dessert, decadent wine, and not one, but two wait persons to dote on us.

Of course, The Mr. knew someone there. He knows someone everywhere. Funny thing, they were celebrating their anniversary too. 16 years for them. We chatted in the bar, then went to our table. As our appetizers came, so did they, to the table right next to us. Funny how things go.

Saturday was our typical busy day full of errands, projects and topped off with an early dinner, church and a movie. We watched Chariot's of Fire. It was my first time seeing the movie. Just for the record, the book is better. But, I almost always think that.

Sunday we continued with projects around the house and then took a wonderful trip to the pumpkin patch. Halloween is coming, you know. Now, I'm not a huge Halloween fan, in fact I'm starting to loathe the whole thing. It's not the holiday or even the kids in their frenzy for candy thing that I hate. It's the same thing about every holiday. Do we have to decorate out doors? And do we have to buy and display every single decoration sold?

There is a home in my neighborhood that has taken Halloween to a whole new level this season. I understand wanting your yard to be a little spooky and all. It is the season of the slasher, I guess. But these neighbors have taken a life size mannequin, made it nice and gory, and impaled it on a large spike in their front lawn.

The first time we drove past it--in the day light, I might add--The Littlest Mr. cries out from the backseat, "Stop the van, mommy, we have to help that guy, he's stuck on that big pole and his bleeding!!!" He's 5 and it took a lot of convincing to make him believe it was a pretend man, he wasn't hurt, he didn't need our help, and that was some one's idea of a great decoration for Halloween.

Yeah. Just great.

So, anyway, back to the pumpkin patch. It was extremely family friendly--read wonderful for little kids. There were plenty of great pumpkins to pick from and minimal mud. We picked our bunch and headed home. The next few hours were spent out in the back yard, scooping and carving. After dinner we lit them up out on the front porch. It was great fun. Plus, we had pumpkin seeds for a bed time snack.

Now, the only weird part. We were in our short sleeves. One of my sons even had on shorts. It was warm. Not the typical bundle up in your winter coat to pick a pumpkin Wisconsin fall that I'm used too. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying. Global warming anyone?

A Kid Ramble

Yesterday's comments were about the book Children of the Dust Bowl. It's the true story of the school at Weedpatch Camp and how a single person made a difference.

It talks a lot about how a large group of people, but especially children were essentially discriminated against because of their situation.

It touched me because of the change that took place in the kids. They went from believing what they were told by most people around them, that they were nothing, worth less than garbage, to believing in themselves and becoming productive adults in society.

What gave them the chance to believe in themselves? Another human being. Leo Hart saw something in the kids of Weedpatch Camp, something that he saw in all children.

"I could never understand, " Leo said, "Why these kids should be treated differently. I could never understand why they shouldn't be given the same opportunity as others. Someone had to do somehting for them because no one cared about them."

They were the Okie kids in California. They had survived the horror of the dust bowl and made it California with their families. They traveled there in the hope of jobs and a new life. Instead they were segregated into camps and refused work.

Leo Hart found a way to get the kids their own school. The kids who attended the school literally built it themselves. They also grew their own food and livestock. They learned many things way beyond just math and reading. They learned carpentry and air plane mechanics, butchering and chemistry, cooking and nutrition, plumbing and electronics. They build their own swimming pool. They learned to sew and cobble because they had no clothing or shoes.

"When we started to build the school, it gave the parents hope," Leo said. "They could see what the school meant to the children. They could see it every day in their faces, in their laughter. And the longer we ran the school, the longer the families stayed. The greater portion of them stayed there and would stay the year round and work so their kids could stay in the school. They understood what we were trying to do. It was the first time the children ever had anything of their own, where all the attention was on them, where they were given the best and they knew everyone was for them."

"The teachers made us feel important and like someone really cared," Trice Masters said. "The school gave us pride and dignity and honor when we didn't have those things. It was our school. It did a great deal to cause us to believe we were special."

That is part of what makes me do foster care. A child in a situation that they didn't create and don't deserve, left believing they don't count, don't matter, aren't wanted or are just some sort of left over throw away from who knows what sort of situation. Those are the kids I'm willingly taking into my home, caring for and loving with all my heart. Those are the kids I'm allowing to sap my energy and resources. Those are the kids that I hope will one day remember that while they were here, in my arms, they counted, they mattered, they were worth something.

And.

That I loved them for who they were.

It's Always The Kids

Books move me.

It's just a part of who I am.

A large part of what we do for school is books. I read them aloud and the kids listen.

One of the books we're reading right now is called Children of the Dustbowl.

This is a book that moves me to tears.

Page after page.

I'm not sure exactly what about this book bugs me so, but it does. Perhaps it's the way the kids were dismissed as nothing. Perhaps it's the entire situation. Maybe it's the way it's written.

I don't really know.

All I know, is that I'm choked up and teary every few pages.

That's pretty powerful for a children's picture book.

Night One

Last night was the big night. The go ahead and let her scream it out night.

So, what happened?

She wailed and screamed and cried her eyes out. But only for an hour. Granted, it was between 1 and 2 AM, but, only for an hour.

And now, at 8:05 AM, she's still sleeping soundly.

So is The Little Mr.

The Littlest Mr. on the other hand, is working mighty hard to wake everyone!

It remains to be seen what will happen tonight and the next and the next. This may have been a fluke, but it's one I'll gladly take.

It was beyond glorious to be snuggled into my bed last night, covers over my head, deep in sleep. I even slept soundly enough to have a hard time waking up this morning. It was almost 7 before I felt like I was here. Ah. So delicious.

Just that one night of sleep seems to have made all of life feel more manageable.

It's Not Too Late

Today is the start of tough love. For all the kids. Whether or not any one's ready.

I'm too tired to be doing anything else.

Since January, we've been working with baby girl. She's got issues. No doubt about it. One of the many is her inability to sleep through the night. She likes to add into the issue a nice helping of vomiting. I'm not so fond of this.

But I have to tell you, I'm tired.
Really tired.

So, tough love it is. Vomit or not. She's going to be sleeping through the night on her own in the next month or so. And. She's going to have to get to it on her own. There isn't going to be any more nights of me going in and settling her, or rocking her, or giving her a bottle or anything else. She's going to have to sleep, or stay awake. Either way, I have to sleep at night.

Next is the boys. They seem to need some tough love too.

They really aren't bad boys, but I think if I don't get on them soon, they will be.

I'm reading a book or two on Love & Logic. It seems like the way to go, although a serious challenge with special needs kids. But before they're special needs, they're kids, so L&L it is. Or at least a real hardy try at it.

For a long time, I've had that excuse of special needs to wash over some really poor parenting on my part. Time to let go of the labels and excuses and time to step up and be a better parent.

In the past, what I've seen is that Love and Logic does work. Even with my boys. It's just that it isn't my fall back style. I want it to be, but somehow when I'm exhausted and frustrated beyond reason, love and logic is about the last thing to come to mind.

So it seems that some of this tough love is going to be work for me and not so much them. That's OK. We'll do it together. Are they ready for a shift? Probably not. Am I? Sort of. I see clearly that change has to happen for us to stay on a even keel.

I'd like for the majority of our family time to be peaceful and pleasant. I know there'll be days, but I'd like them to be the exception. I'm sure they'll like that part too.

Brush. Floss. Smile.

My life really doesn't revolve around my teeth and the dentist, it just seems that way.

Between The Mr. and I we saw our dentist 3 times this week.

She's wonderful. Kind and thoughtful, generous and even caring. Her office staff are all gems. They even think our kids are great. Talk about kind!

The thing is, she sort of looks like a live Barbie doll. Really. And she's even had kids. I saw her pregnant. If I hadn't, I'd never believe that she personally delivered her own kids.

She has one other little glitch. While she's drilling your teeth...she sings along with the radio.

Between us this week there was a lot of singing.

I had 4 of my teeth smoothed out, plus one extra filling--no Novocaine for me, just get it done. This should be the end of the dental drama for a while.

The implants are in. The real teeth have been whitened to match. The surrounding teeth smoothed out. Fillings are in. They've all been scraped, x-rayed, flossed and poked. I've got the special super-fluoride tooth paste for bed time.

I'm done.

I'm hoping to go for the next six months without giving my teeth a second thought, just like the rest of the world.

The Prize Goes To...

Today a book note.

Doris Lessing has been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.



She is a challenge.

One of the times I was in college, I was required to read The Golden Notebook. Trying to be a good student, I picked up the book early, thinking I'd just read through it quickly before the semester started. Little did I know what lay ahead.

Before the semester began, I'd read through the book 4, maybe 5 times. Each time gleaning more, but knowing that I'd missed most of it. I read it 2 more times during the semester in hopes of keeping up with the class discussion.

My copy is well worn.






Since that semester, it's been read again. Still I know I'm missing much of it, but it's addicting.





It's always been, since that first read, a book I can't stop reading. It is simply an amazing text to me. It operates on so many levels and offers up so much to the reader.

An excerpt: pg 153

Stalin died today. Molly and I sat in the kitchen, upset. I kept saying, "We are being inconsistent, we ought to be pleased. We've been saying for months he ought to be dead." She said: "Oh, I don't know, Anna, perhaps he never knew about all the terrible things that were happening." Then she laughed and said: "The real reason we're upset is that we're scared stiff. Better the evils we know. " "Well, things can't be worse." "Why not? We all of us seem to have this belief that things are going to get better. Why should they? Sometimes I think we're moving into a new ice age of tyranny and terror, why not? Who's to stop it--us?" When Michael came in later, I told him what Molly had said--about Stalin's not knowing; because I thought how odd it was we all have this need for the great man, and create him over and over again in the face of all the evidence. Michael looked tired and grim. To my surprise he said: "Well, it might be true, mightn't it? That's the point--anything might be true anywhere, there's never any way of really knowing the truth about anything. Anything is possible--everything's so crazy, anything at all's possible."

It's a Human Thing

People want to be right. From the profound to the petty, they want to be right. As a consolation prize if a person can't be right, then at least they want to know that they've been heard.

I've been having some interesting and thought provoking conversations lately. Some with very young children and some with adults many years my senior. It seems that very few share my view of people and relationships. Each one in their own way insisted that I should just assert my "rightness" upon another human without much if any regard for their thoughts, opinions or perspectives.

In my opinion, it's a pity to think and act that way. So much will be lost if we collectively as a human race continue like this. We can't all run around all the time being consumed with being right, whatever the issue.

Yes, I know. There are things that have definite rights and wrongs, like math for instance. I see what you see, 2+2 will always = 4. I get that, and so do you. You also get that that isn't at all what I'm talking about.

When it comes to slippery things like how a person should dress or what they should watch or how they should be educated, we should pause, with our mouths closed. It is after all, the only way to listen. Listening is one of the ways we learn.

We don't always have to learn things we agree with and we don't always have to agree with what we learn.

It is our "right" to try to educate another human on our point of view, but it is also our "right" to see that it is exactly that. Our own point of view that is created by the unique fingerprint that is our own individual life.

Now, I am most willing to listen and learn from those who are kind and receptive to me. I will ask genuine questions and listen attentively, but if you start to play games and try to win me over to your side with verbal trickery, I will tire of the game. No one likes to play Monkey In The Middle for very long. I don't enjoy having circles run around me simply to make me feel undereducated in the hopes that I will give up and switch teams.

I know that I could never "win" people over to my side by brute force, physical, mental, emotional or otherwise. No matter what my "side" is, whether education, politics, Autism, Christianity or anything else. Besides, what a funny concept, to win someone over. A person's mind and how they use it isn't a battlefield, at least not for me.

I can't run around pretending to know what is in a person's innermost thoughts and feelings. I can't pretend to know what's best for anyone but myself. In the lives of the kids I care for, I'm trying to come up with what might be the best for them, but honestly, the flip side of just about any decision might turn out equally fine for them.

I'm sure today this is all about as clear as mud. Well, that's the way it works inside my head. I'm finding myself feeling pretty passionate on this topic these days. And confused, too. What exactly was the topic again? Well, just the idea that you really can't force your ideas on someone else. You just can't be "that right". In the end, we're all going to have to wait for the end to know how right we are or aren't. I think there are certainly ways to share what you think, there are ways to convince another person to examine what you think and ways to convince them to examine what they think, but you can't predetermine the outcome of their thought pattern.

Any which way, you ought to be listening more, thinking more, examining yourself more, and searching out more information. Or at least, I ought to. Certainly I need to be doing those four things way before I open up my mouth and tell you that I'm right and you're wrong!

Hey Mom, What If?

Today is finally feeling like fall. Nice and crisp and a "breeze" that might just lift you off your feet.

I had a very interesting conversation over lunch today with my 9 year old. You see, I'm working at reading a book called The God Delusion. I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, a certain brilliant friend of mine who also happens to be an Atheist asked me to read it, so I'm giving it a go. Trying to read this over lunch sparked some interest from The Little Mr.

Hey mom?

Yes, all spoken communication in my home starts with the phrase, hey mom. For example, hey mom, the dog just threw up on the rug. Hey mom, did you know the toilet is overflowing? Hey mom, there's a strange guy at the door, should I tell him to go away? Hey mom, is that a book about God and what's delusion?

Hmm, that'll get your attention over some luke warm coffee and hot dogs. Yes, I do eat the most appetizing lunches known to mankind.

So we had a little conversation. Not so much about delusion, but about how someone believes what they believe and what happens when someone else believes something else. We talked about the value of friendship and understanding other people's point of view. We talked about just how important it is to know what you're really talking about by going to the source.

One of my examples to him was that I'm both reading the Bible and The God Delusion. It will help me to think about what I think I know and talk about it. It will help me to learn and ask questions.

We talked a little bit about the price of being right in a conversation and what it could cost. Then we wondered if that cost would be worth it. We talked about respect and honesty. We talked about what it's like to have your beliefs challenged and whether that is good or bad or neither.

This was a precious conversation filled with questions and wondering and what if's. It was a window into the future. A little glimpse into the thoughtful man this boy will become.

Something About Monday

No Monday that starts out with a crying baby at 4:30 AM can possibly turn out good.

I am still trying to have a good attitude today, but it is a stretch.

First I had that wonderful early morning. Those of you that know me well, know that I am least of all a morning person. Second, my coffee pot doesn't start until 5:30.

There was whining, bickering and thrown food at breakfast.

The dog refused to take her pills and then chomped my arm just to let me know how she really felt about it all.

In spite of the fact that The Mr. cleaned the bathrooms on Sunday afternoon, the bottom of the tub was full of slimy soap chunks thanks to one of my boys. There was also a nice litter of dirty boy laundry to step over.

The transport people were 30 minutes late to pick up the baby. I don't have a case worker right now to be able to call and find out what's going on. I called the supervisor, but she's out of the office.

The dentist visit was supreme. I had to interrupt the cleaning 3 times just to referee, and they each had their own chair.

She decided to use some high powered water spray to clean my teeth. If you haven't experienced this delight in dental care yet, I can't even begin.

Of course X-rays were needed. I have a mouth the size of a small child. Due to past injury, I can only open my jaws so far. This dentist doesn't treat children so she only has adult size bite-wings. I have bruises on the roof of my mouth and under my tongue.

The baby was returned 30 minutes early from her visit with yet another pleasant note from her mom.

Twice now, I have been told I'm not dressing this child for the weather. Now add to it, that I'm not caring for her hair properly. I'm way to cranky to even get into this one.

As one of my friends is on her way over to visit, I discover the toilet is backed up, the baby is screaming and the phone is ringing. She lives out of the country and can visit for about 45 minutes. I did manage to answer the phone, give the baby a bottle and plunge the toilet before she pulled up.

Why is it exactly that boys like to unroll whole rolls of toilet paper into the toilet just to see what will happen when they flush it anyway?

While my friend visits, the phone rings. We all pretend not to hear it while the boys behave as though they are speed metal rock stars on drugs. Did I mention the part where they were rude and greedy?

Ah, a proud parent moment it was.

The afternoon has continued on with general surly behavior on their part and crankiness on my part. The baby is so out of sorts, it just isn't funny.

The rain is pouring down and my boys are out running the neighborhood in it.

I'm going to be lucky to get away with it all today.

Some days it's exactly what I told the hygienist. She commented on my parenting skills--I'm not sure exactly how genuinely--and my return was this: A lot of days, it's not at all about skills, just survival. Plain and simple.

It makes me think a little of our weekend. Some of the highlights included raiding a neighbors rummage sale to refurnish parts of our home, a picnic, and church on Sunday morning instead of Saturday night. Our little picnic found me riding home from the northern suburbs with a bag full of hot dog vomit. Our furniture escapade left a huge bruise on The Mr. and the checkbook. Sunday morning just meant less coffee, shower time and newspaper reading. Round it out with staying up too late to watch the Packers loose.

In between it all, there's lots of laughs and love. If there wasn't, we wouldn't be able to do it.

It’s Not About You

I wonder about relationships and people.
It seems that we pick and choose who and how much involvement we'll give to others based on some flimsy fantasy of information instead of the real thing. We let our maybe's decide for us.

We choose not to start or deepen a relationship with someone because of their labels of who they are now. We think to ourselves, this person won't accept me because they're whatever their chosen labels are.
I do it all the time. I choose not to get involved with certain people because I think they'll judge me for my choices. I mean, after all, do I willingly want to enter into a relationship, even a casual one, with someone who will be judging me?

The answer is, no, I don't. Is it fair? No, not at all. So why then do I get so very disappointed by people who won't enter into relationships with me, knowing that it's most likely due to my life labels or their past experiences with me?

Maybe it's because I look back at who I've been over the years and who I am now and can see the difference. It's funny really, because I know both so much more and so much less. I guess I just finally know that I don't know. I finally realize how pointless it is for me to be making any judgements on anyone for any reason. My desire is to live a life of grace, mercy, compassion, acceptance, love, patience, kindness, gratitude, forgiveness, and understanding.

I'm quite sure I'll never "achieve" it, but I'm happy to be working at it.

Craft Box Crazies

There is something about Play-Doh that puts me over the edge.

I'm trying to be nice about the whole thing, but what I really, really want to do is take a broom and sweep the whole mess into the trash! I dislike it so much, that my kids get to play with it almost never. That means that the stuff is all dry and crumbly instead of soft and squishy. This does not deter them from playing with the stuff. It also means that the little crumbly bits are everywhere! Bad enough on it's own, but with a toddler underfoot, it's enough to make this mama look for something to put in her coffee, and I'm not talking sugar here!

Now, really, I should be very pleased. They've been sitting at the table for hours. Quietly. Well, at least the boy version of quietly. We've read through a large bit of history text book and a good part of War of The Worlds. I've answered a zillion foster care phone calls this morning without incident. All thanks to the dough. So why does it just make me want to rip my hair out??

It must just be one of those peculiar mama things. I can't stand the stuff. I'd be perfectly content for them to be using just about any other craft supplies I have around the house, and I have plenty to choose from. I'd even be happy with some other clay or be willing to make up some more salt dough. Just get that crumby stuff out of here!

Good thing it's Friday and we're having summer weather in the fall.

Where's My Windmill?

Today it all seems such a paradox.

Perhaps I'm just in a foul mood, although foul would most likely be the wrong word to describe it. It's sort of like life, the reality and the ideal, the truth and the nostalgia and the fantasy all collide and make me unsteady.

I'll try to put words to it, simply because that's what I do. I put words to the jumble that is racing around under my skull in hopes that it will somehow make some sense somewhere.

I'll start with the weather. These are the days we all dream of. Mild, warm days. Blue, cloudless skies. Leaves on the verge of change. Cool nights pop corned with swift, strong showers. Peaceful, perfect. Apple loaded trees in picturesque orchards. Pumpkins swelling on the ends of prickly vines.

And yet, I'm at odds. Discontent as it were. I'm feeling as though I'm giving everything and everyone just a portion of me and never a whole. In all the conversations that really counted or really needed to count, I've only been half present at best. It wasn't for lack of feeling. Nothing could be farther from the truth. There has almost been too much feeling. Everything has been so close to the surface these days. My feelings for everyone in every situation has been so intense it's exhausting.

Years ago, I used to say I could read people by watching them. Their eyes, their bodies, their words and what they didn't say. It faded for a long time. I was too focused on myself to look around. But I've changed again. My focus is not on myself in that same old selfish way. Even in this modern world of written communications, I feel so much of what's behind those words.

Part of the problem then is all that feeling. It just plain gets in the way of thinking. That and the time schedule of my daily life. Now, I'm not complaining about my everyday here, that's not it at all. I very much choose to have the schedule that I have, but sometimes I wonder what it could be like. All this chaos leaves very little time to think something through thoroughly. What I end up with is a lot of half thought ideas and no time left to flesh them out. Not enough energy to finger my way through them and sort it into something clear and meaningful. It simply remains a fuzzy complicated mess in my mind.

The other problem with that, is if I can't get it all settled out in my mind, then I can't share it with yours. So when we're trying to have one of those conversations, I have only frustrated half formed and half thought out things to share. It's not fair to you and so very frustrating to me. I feel as though I've been failing in upholding my side of these conversations. I feel as though I waste every one's time with these half thoughts. You shouldn't have to try to fill in the blanks in my thoughts, especially when I haven't done that work yet myself.

Add to all this my own selfishness. I absolutely see it for what it is. I've allowed myself to be right back where I always end up. The minutes are all spoken for and then I am frustrated with myself that there isn't time for me to read all the books I want to read, to write all the things I want to write, to play the games with my kids, to see my friends, to craft with all that tucked away crafty stuff, to take more joy out of life without sacrificing the last little bits of sleep that I get. Then there are the days that there is a fleeting free hour, I'm torn by the desire to waste it just sitting down and "vegging out" or to spend it catching up on some neglected home chore.

I know that there are people out there who make it all work, or at the very least put on a picture that they have it all. I don't know how they do it.

I don't know how to do what I feel I must and still do what I want. This isn't to say that I don't often enjoy doing all the musts, I do. I wouldn't give up my family or my commitments, but somehow I can't seem to stretch my hours as much as others do.

Maybe it's all in the comparison. Or that fact that I shouldn't be comparing my life with anyone else's. That's a mighty hard position to take though. I'm human after all.

And so here I sit, on a beautiful fall Wisconsin afternoon. 3 kids to mind, a house to keep reasonable, an elderly hound at my feet, sports to run to, dinner to be made, and here I sit. Discontent and trying to make sense of it all with my silly little pen trapped in a fantasy of how delicious it was to have no responsiblity. How utterly devine it felt to spend my days doing nothing but reading and writing as I was moved to do so.

Life Is Built On Relationships

Life is built on relationships. The whole game of it is to keep them in balance.

The balance of having enough give and take, enough trust and honesty. There is a balance of emotions, caring and compassion.

For some people, I think this is something that comes naturally. For others I think it never crosses their minds, and then I think there are some of us who are constantly thinking it over.

It's that whole mental conversation of did I do or say the right or wrong things, did I give enough or too much. Where is my line of involvement? How much is too much or too little? Do I value this person and this relationship enough to figure the whole thing out?

As a Christian this all starts from the top down. Our most important relationship is with the Lord. It is the one that holds us accountable and forces us to be in a continual state of examination. It's those corny questions we hear, would you do or say that very thing if Jesus were standing next to you?

Well, lets face it. That's a great question to use in all relationships. Would you do or say that particular thing about that person if they were there in the room with you? Would you say those things about your spouse or kids if they were sitting next to you? Would you share your best friends secrets with someone else if she were standing there watching you betray her trust?

How about the balance levels? There seems to be a logical and necessary hierarchy in relationships in our lives. As a Christian, your deepest intimacy must be with God. Then your next deepest intimacy is with your spouse. Then comes the kids, then the best friends or close family, then the next tier of friends, then acquaintances and Dr.'s, and on it goes down the line. Not many people would say it's otherwise. There are all those reports all the time about how a marriage would be in better condition if the spouses put each other before the kids. That whole thought of you're married first, a parent second.

The real trick can be in maintaining this balance. Sometimes these levels of intimacy are in a state of flux. In reality I think to a certain degree, they are always in flux. Life is not static, my friends. It ebbs and flows just like the tides pulled by the moon. There are times when your need to share things doesn't follow the intimacy hierarchy, but those are the times to be most aware.

I noticed myself being less than aware and present in the relationship game yesterday. A friend was sharing with me the awful, heart wrenching life and death struggles happening in her extended family. A series of cancer events touching the lives of this family and as I'm listening to her, I'm thinking about me. She finished talking, and I said the right things, I'll pray, and yet I confess, I was still thinking about me and my life. The next thing I hear is myself telling her my "troubles". I hear my own whine of foster care this and Autism that and all the while I'm thinking, this is crazy and selfish and petty. She has real struggle and heartache in her life right now, and all I can do is talk about me.

Part of being a Christian for me, is being able to recognize what I was doing, see it for the wrong that it is and ask both her forgiveness and God's. It's my obligation to prioritize others above myself. It's hard. We all fail, but each day is a new one.