The Freight of a Thought Train

We’re talking, kissing, and I let out that brief sigh that lets him know to ask what’s wrong.

Without pause to ponder, I tell the truth: “I can’t stop thinking about what an awful mother I was today.”

Noodly Appendages
source: Minivan Ninja

He wants me to think only of us and right now, but a woman’s mind doesn’t work like that, does it? I always recall Men Are Like Waffles, Women Are Like Spaghetti—my thoughts twirling and spinning and twisting and running together. He’s sitting in one compartment, ready for the … well, syrup, the sweet times of marriage, and I am play-by-playing every minute of the day and getting farther and farther away.

I’m having a more and more difficult time keeping my cool with a 3-year-old on the loose. If just once she would agree to anything I offered. Not ask for things she doesn’t want. Stop fake crying 60% of the day.

I’m waiting desperately for a turnaround. I know yelling doesn’t help, but I do it. I know spanking has no effect on this will-of-steel, but sometimes I do it anyway. I know what she wants is my attention and yet one more whine of “I just need you, Mommy” is enough to topple me over into near-hysteria. I might run out of the room, lock myself in the bathroom, start singing an aria just to drown out the noise.

We have days that are so good it feels like water, a fresh stream through the hard rock my heart is. I feel relief, prayers of friends, smile big, tousle hair.

And then there are times like now, when she doesn’t hear what I say and screams the same thing at me forty-three times in a row while the fake wails continue and she clings to my arm and my ears hurt.

I know … it could be worse.

I know … I should be thankful.

I know, I know, I know.

But it’s still hard.

So dear, this is what I’m thinking that I can’t put into words in a five-second span. My thoughts don’t end, they pulse like the heart and course throughout the body. What I mean when you say, “Think about this” and I say, “I can’t.”

Saturday Linky Love

Photobucket

I think recipe week is over and things will be progressing more normally here for the time-being. Next weekend I am going to the Blissdom Conference, though, so who knows what crazy ideas I’ll be coming home with! Two years ago when I attended, I totally wanted to start a grammar blog. Then I got pregnant. So it turned into the Before You Hit Publish series. Which, someday, I will get the motivation to continue.

So here’s my weekly dose of stuff you should click over to read:

Read or written anything great this week? I’d love to read it. Leave me a link!

Added to Saturday Stumbles at Simply Staci.

I Believe a Change Would Do You Good

The summer of 2004 was perhaps the best and worst of my life.

It’s still crazy to think about the rapid succession of events. On May 9, Mr. V and I graduated from The University of Richmond. (And no, our mascot is not Spiderman, as I was asked last night upon sporting my beloved and holey Richmond sweatshirt. It’s the Spiders!)

On May 10, we drove to Nashville to try to find an apartment for after our wedding. We knew nothing about Nashville, and I think we visited a grand total of four apartments. We decided on the biggest one we could get for what we had money-wise. Which, of course, was entirely dependent on me actually finding work in Nashville with my English degree.

On May 11, my daddy’s best friend, Donnie, died of liver cancer back in Richmond. He had only been diagnosed in November and it really rocked our world. Our family was heartbroken and there I was, stuck 10 hours away. Mr. V and I signed a lease that day and came home the next. (Also, my long-time bad feeling I get when I go into an O’Charley’s stems from this summer.)

We went back to Richmond. Mr. V went back to his family in PA. I went to a viewing and a funeral. Then my family went to Myrtle Beach, a pre-planned vacation that gave us time to reflect on the last week. We left straight from the cemetery. Mostly I remember cooking with my sister in the little beach condo we rented.

I spent a month working as a secretary for a bankruptcy lawyer later that summer. What an experience! I quickly learned the difference between chapters 7 and 13 and that I never wanted to have to file either.

The rest of the summer was spent planning my nuptials, obsessing over flower colors and hand-stamping a hundred homemade bulletins while my sister calligraphed our names and the date on them.

On July 31, I married my Mr. V. We left for our honeymoon on August 2, a blissful week at the El Dorado Royale in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. I believe we returned on August 9. On August 10 we went to Busch Gardens with my dad and sister despite the fact that we were both suffering from severe Montezuma’s revenge. (Isn’t it SO romantic to spend the last night of your honeymoon at a restaurant by yourself while your new husband throws up in the lovely cabana bathroom?) On August 11, we moved to Nashville.

In the next few weeks, Mr. V started grad school, I found work at a day-care, I got a severe UTI that turned into a kidney infection, we discovered our beloved Nashville church, and we learned how to live together. We also almost killed each other during the painting of our living room.

I remember the summer like a giant vat of change, bubbling around together until it created something: our new life. Our marriage. Six years later, some of it seems like a dream. Some of it still hurts. I still miss my mommy.

But I’m glad we went through it together.

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Family for a Purpose

When my husband and I first got married, we bought a book by Gary Thomas titled Sacred Marriage. The premise of the book is “what if God designed marriage to make us holy more than happy?” A great question indeed.

Our sermon this morning was from Mark 2, where the four men bring their paralytic friend through the roof of a house in which Jesus is teaching. Because it was too crowded, they had to go to desperate measures for the healing of their friend. And yet Jesus takes one look at the crew, sees their faith, and chooses to forgive the paralytic of his sins, not heal his malady.

The pastor emphasized how Jesus cared for the spiritual need first–that which was more important–even though the man expected Him to heal his physical need. He did, eventually, cure the man’s paralysis, but only to emphasize His ability over the spiritual.

We often see marriage and family as physical needs–we need relationship (true). We have a desire to have children. We want love. But I think above all of those needs, we have family to meet our spiritual needs: to teach us truths about Jesus.


If you’ve been married for more than five minutes, you’ve probably had arguments, wanted to leave or hit or throw a temper tantrum. You’ve wanted to hole up and not share how you feel and pretend everything happy. You’ve had great times and crappy times. You’ve endured struggles together and felt closer for it.

If you happen to have a willful toddler like some people I know (ahem), you might find yourself saying things like, “Why do you only want to play with what you can’t have!” “Why won’t you just listen to me?” “Why do you push me away when I just want to cuddle you?”

The marriage relationship mirrors how God wants us to grow in love with Him. In hard times, you will grow closer. You’ll learn to rely on Him. You’ll be able to be mad at Him and yet not turn your back or run away.

The parent-child relationship shows us how God must view us. No sooner do those above phrases slip out of my mouth than I can hear God speaking those same words over me. Why DO I push? Why do I want what He doesn’t want? He is teaching me every day through a little child who makes me both love insanely and cry angrily.

While this is nothing I haven’t heard and I’m sure you’ve heard it before, too, it strikes me differently each time I realize that we have these relationships for a purpose. Will we take the chance to let God mold us and draw us nearer to Him?

—-
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Make Love Happen

This past Saturday, Mr. V and I invited a few of his fellow teacher-friends over to our (basically unfurnished) house in Chattanooga. He had connected with some of the other new teachers at a conference they all had to go to in July, and he was eager for me to meet them.

Being old and married, I had to giggle when the conversation turned to something I am completely unfamiliar with: online dating sites. Apparently there are more than I had ever dreamed of–not only match.com and eHarmony, but also okcupid and plentyoffish and christiancafe, just for starters.

It made me very thankful to be married. Mr. V’s friends repeatedly told us that we were very lucky to not have to be dating, and I wholeheartedly agree.

Many, many moons ago, online dating was just a spark in someone’s head and meeting people from the Internet almost assured you’d be found somewhere dead, cut into pieces, and stuffed into a shoebox.

Which is why what I am account to you is one of the stupidest things I’ve probably ever done.

One of my best friends in high school, Cynthia, and I worked together in an aftercare program at the daycare at our church. One day she came in and said that she was going to get together that night with her Internet boyfriend and she wanted me to come along. Her guy would invite a friend for me.

It was a little daunting, but we would drive separately and meet them in a public place, so how bad could it be? Plus I had had a sum total of maybe two dates all of high school. So, I mean, really.

So we went to wherever we were meeting them, and they were going to follow us to the movie theater. Which is when we noticed that one of the tires on my car was nearly flat.

Oops.

So Cynthia and I let them drive and we all went together. In a car. With guys from the Internet. (My dad may kill me for this NOW, 11 years later.)

The sad part is, it was fine. And I really liked the guy they set me up with. And he never called me again.

Not even guys from the Internet liked me.

But now, I’m happily married, and I hope that guy is looking for dates on RednecksConnect or something.

I wonder if, 20 years from now, everyone’s parents will have met on the Internet. There won’t be as many cute, saw each other across the room stories. But it is interesting, people connecting (somewhat) for personality more than looks. (Maybe? Again, I’ve never done any online dating site stuff.)

I have to know: Have you ever met someone from one of these sites? Your spouse? Spill!

My Testimony, So Far


I used to think I had a boring testimony. I grew up with wonderful, Christian parents. I walked the aisle when I was about 10 after having a strong call to missions. Unlike many of the people I knew from youth group, I never really wavered from my faith. I had doubts, sure, who doesn’t? But there’s never been a time I did not believe there was a God who cared about me. I didn’t rebel. I have often asked my parents what they DID to me to make me not want to be bad? They don’t know. I wish they did!

While Mr. V and I have never had tons of money, we’ve always had enough. We never went through a period where we had to eat ramen noodles. We’ve never argued significantly. While we went through a short period of infertility, it was not too awful. We’ve had a very happy five years and have a beautiful, healthy daughter.

At Thanksgiving, when Mr. V still had no job interviews lined up for January, I remember thinking, “Well, we’ve not had any hard times in our marriage so far. Maybe this is it.”

And it is.

Not that our marriage is not wonderful, but situationally it has just been a difficult nine months.

Mr. V applied for many college teaching positions–many much closer to our parents–and got not one interview. We felt so desperate. He then applied to many private high schools in Nashville. He had one interview. They hired someone else the next day.

But God had something better planned for us. Through the Southern Teachers Agency, a very prestigious school pursued him and hired him almost immediately (one MUCH better than the one he interviewed at here).

We had always assumed we would be moving after five years. And then we thought, hey, maybe we won’t have to! And then, ooh, yep, we do. So our house didn’t go on the market until the second week of June and Mr. V needed to be in Chattanooga middle of August.

Needless to say, it hasn’t sold. We’ve had a small handful of showings and nothing to show for it except a pretty clean house containing a lonely mother and her ten-month-old baby.

I want so, so badly for our house to sell so I can quit my job, go be a stay-at-home mom and freelancer, and be with Mr. V in Chattanooga. I let that get to me. A LOT! It’s a daily struggle to not whine continuously and wonder why on earth God would be “doing this to me.”

I can’t tell you how many Sunday School lessons and sermons I’ve heard on patience in the last few months. (This morning, visiting a church in Chattanooga, included.) And Mr. V and I believe it when God promises He will work all things for good. That He has a plan for us. That to Him, one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day.

We’re convinced that God will move me and Libbie to Chattanooga at the exact right time for His plan. Maybe there is a reason I need to be here. Maybe there is a reason I need to move there at some particular time. Either way, we are 100% sure God will allow it to happen in His time if we listen to His Word and obey. Bemoaning all the time I have to be apart from Mr. V does no good. I need to relish God’s plan and delight myself in Him.

Perhaps it’s all a big lesson in patience, faith, and God’s timing. Something I need to learn. And if this is the way for God to knock it into my thick head, I’m OK with that. Because I believe He loves me. Just like sometimes I need to tell Libbie “no” for her own good, sometimes He needs to say, “Not now, dear one. Wait.”

Preemptive Missing

I don’t get many text messages. I am one of those Old Geezers without a Text Messaging Plan, and so I still have to pay to get and send texts. I do, every once in awhile, but my phone isn’t constantly buzzing with them like many others my age.

But yesterday morning, I got this from my very oldest friend: “The church on TV is singing And They’ll Know We Are Christians. Made me think of you and smile. Love you and miss you.”

I won’t explain the inside joke, but it made me grin from ear to ear. And think.

A genuine “I miss you” is language of the soul, words that mean more to me than most.

Being separated from my husband right now, some days all we have is “I miss you.” Sometimes I mean it more than other times (be honest now, really). But I do. I miss his curly head, his hugs, and how funny Libbie thinks he is.

“I love you” can be muttered, unfelt as we say good-bye and go on to attend to the next thing in life (for me, a crawling rascal; for him, a baseball game or papers to look over).

Driving home from Chattanooga after signing the lease for our house there, I started thinking about how much I will miss my friends in Nashville. It took me a long time before I felt that I had true friends here. Those friends to whom you can bare your soul do not come quickly or easily.

I will miss you, dear friends. More than anything else in this crazy city we’ve called home for five years.

Five Years …

I don’t like to “post over” my Family Recipe Fridays posts, so this is one day late. But what’s one day in the grand scheme of things?

Yesterday (Friday) was our five-year wedding anniversary. As I’m writing this Thursday, we have no real plans except to eat a nice meal at home, enjoy one another’s company, and be in love. Which we are still, very much.

If–like me–you mean it when you said you married your best friend, you are a blessed woman.

Mr. V is, above all, my best friend in the world. I want to tell him everything. We have fun together. And that gets us through the times we might not feel so ooey-gooey in love.

I’m not going to lie; this year has been hard. Not so much our relationship, but life’s circumstances. The first three months of our fifth year I was very large and pregnant. And not so agreeable to live with. I didn’t even want to live with me. Then we had a newborn. Then we had a very long process of Mr. V applying to teach at schools and not getting any interviews.

At one point, the three of us–me, Mr. V, and Libbie–all laid in our bed and cried. This is not what we had planned for our life together.

But we’re discovering that what God has planned is so much more for us. Mr. V has gotten a wonderful job at a private high school in Chattanooga. When we sell our house, I’m going to live my dream of being a stay-at-home mom and freelancer. While this time of transition is trying, I can only believe it will continue to build character and make us stronger.

It would have been easy to turn our upset over predicaments into arguments with one another. And I’m sure I tried several times. But fortunately I am married to a saint who has figured out how to deal with my (clinical) depression, moods, and general craziness. For some reason, he adores me.

And oh, I love him.

It’s so true that when you see your husband loving your child, you love him in a completely new and wonderful way. Mr. V adores his daughter and loves to be with her, which makes me love him all the more.

At 27, I feel like I was just a kid when we got married, just three months out of college. It was the craziest summer of my life. Now, about to impart on another life adventure … I am grateful to have my best friend next to me. And God as the Head of our marriage.

Packing Up the Dreams God Planted

The pile in the living room has dwindled down as we have carted several loads over to our new storage unit. Praying, hoping that making this place look much better than it has with us living in it will make some dear soul want to own it.

It’s really a sweet house, our first house, just the right size for the two of us (and a baby, although it’s been a little more of a squeeze). I’m getting sappy as I think about leaving it–and even sappier going through piles of stuff as we move it out. There are some boxes that we hadn’t touched since we moved here 3 years ago.


In one of those, I found a stack of cards Mr. V gave me in college. Although I know he loves me in a completely different and deeper way now, he was obviously bananas over me pre-engagement and pre-grown-up life. I can’t believe the sappyness he was capable of writing (it’s very unlike him). (I have to add, he’s not the only one who’s stopped sending sappy cards. I’m definitely also guilty. In college I once wrote him a poem using candy hearts. We were disgustingly crazy about each other!)

Seven months after our first child was born and nearly five years of marriage later … I am sure we could use to recapture some of that early romance.

How do you do it? I’d love to hear some tips!

I Give Up

I give up on the whole weight loss/exercise thing until next week, when we are MOVED. Hard to believe one week from today (a) we have to be out of our apartment and (b) we will have been married for 2 years! Pretty crazy. But exciting, especially about moving!!! I wish I could be at home packing this week but alas, my vacation time is all used up! I still have to leave by 1 today because we have our first walk-through this afternoon. I get to see MY house all finished! It’s a new build, so we got to pick out flooring, cabinets, etc. Eeep!

Well, I need to shove a lot of work into a little time today since I am leaving early today and on Thursday for our closing!

J

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