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come what may.

May 2, 2011

I’ve been told that the current month is now May.  And if that’s true, that means I have no memory of the past 3 to 4 weeks. So you can imagine my surprise.

Life has been weird lately.  Fuzzy and a little surreal.  And I’ve been selective about who I’ve talked to about it realistically.  Because, if I’m being honest, I am the kind of person to share the storm after it’s blown over.  I’m not one to sit in the middle of the downpour, staring at my rain guage and telling the world to watch with concern as I possibly drown.

I’d rather let the torrent fall as it may and then retell the whole story later like a high school football star recounts his glorious, cut-short, athletic career.  Exaggerated and maybe a little bit fabricated for minor exaltation purposes.

And I can’t believe I’m the only one guilty of this.  I read a lot of blogs every day of women who tell beautiful stories of antique furniture and meticulous, brilliant children all perfectly placed in large, well lit homes.  And I begin to tear myself down for not cooking well balanced meals or for having what has lately been, nightly arguments with my husband.

I used to pray that God would expose me.  My sin.  My “fabricated” character.  My uunhealthy obsession for material security.  And He was true to my request. He did just as I asked.  But the fact that I pretended I was too weak to do that dirty work myself, left me feeling punished through that exposure.

So I’m taking strides to expose myself in an effort to be less “fabricated”.  More vulnerable.  And at the very least, I’m doing it so I don’t find myself ever again sitting alone in my torrent, watching the flood waters rise, feeling an overwhelming need to deter your attention elsewhere.

So for the next 30 days I will write every day.  Maybe about these fuzzy days of our lives.  Or maybe about dog poop.  Whatever it is, I’ll not waste time searching for just the right word to confuse or deter you from the realness of what is happening and the metaphorical rain that is falling.

Because the last thing you need is one more person pretending their antique furniture is holding it all together.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. Jen permalink
    May 2, 2011 12:25 pm

    I’m with you. My antique furniture is falling apart and this old house we are trying to buy may be my undoing. We’ve been living out of boxes, eating off of paper (more junk food and fast food than is acceptable by most “perfect blogs” standards) and just waiting for the phone call telling us to go sign papers. It has revealed to me that I am not a patient person, at all. My kids have been watching more tv while I pack than is healthy, this morning I refused to dress my husband for an interview when I could have easily held my peace and just laid clothes out on the bed to show I love him. I’m dropping all the balls too so while I know that knowing all this doesn’t really help you- know that I’m right there with you friend and there are no perfect, meticulous homes or people. If there were God’s glory would be outshone by our own and if my own inadequacies allow Him to be revealed more greatly, well then, bring on the cracks.

  2. May 2, 2011 1:50 pm

    30 days? What the …. Jim gave us an entire YEAR.

    I want my money back.

  3. Your other Daddy permalink
    May 2, 2011 7:45 pm

    I love you baby doll. (Yes, to me your still my baby)

    It hurt to let you go, out into this difficult and sometime cruel adult world, and it hurts to watch you struggle to make your way. But I have to say I am so proud of what I have seen in you and Chris. You have shown such strength, character and honesty that I think the world just doesn’t know what to do with you. Be strong and of good courage, remember it’s the harsh winds that strengthen the trees and the “Son” that brings forth the fruit.

    Daddy T

  4. May 3, 2011 9:55 pm

    Today a student asked me what kind of writers I like. I told her I like writers who are funny. Writers who give me something to think about. But mostly, writers who tell their truth fearlessly and beautifully.

    I like you.

    And I too have struggled with figuring out my comfort level of how real to be on my own blog. Just know, He tells a beautiful story in our weaknesses, our faults, our royal screw-ups.

    Blessings to you’

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