Lately, I've been in a kind of funk. Or at least for the past few days. I'm in one of those, "I wish I could just go to sleep and not wake up until it's all fixed sort of moods." But of course that's impossible. There's just a lot going on...a whole lot. The kids are sick and getting over it and getting sick again. Jim is getting all jazzed about getting his own web page up and running. We are looking into Orthodoxy. There's been death in the family along with two bouts with heart problems in older family members. The kids seem to mature over night. Somehow I can have a real conversation with Ana (almost) and David is talking more every day and growing closer to walking. Not to mention the dog issue, which now has us locking our car in the evening behind a heavy chain to avoid having our tires slashed. It's just nuts...I wanna get off.

Times like these, I want to listen to "Cool Change" by The Little River Band. But I wore the tape out and even though I have dropped hints on occasion I have yet to receive the Greatest Hits CD. Ah...Oh well. I listen to "Satellite" by the Dave Matthews Band instead. It's a more ethereal version on the same theme. I actually don't have this one downloaded into the computer so I can't share the song with you...but here are some of the lyrics


Satellite in my eyes
Like a diamond in the sky
How I wonder
Satellite strung from the moon
And the world your balloon
Peeping Tom for the mother station


Sometimes, I wish to be far removed from everything. Able to monitor and record goings on, but not have to touch and feel it all...I just want to float high above it all, watching...maybe guiding. But away from it...cold and detached.


Winter's cold spring erases And the calm away by the storm is chasen Everything good needs replacing Look up, look down all around, hey satellite


Things have been calm around here for a while. We had major storms a while back. But it's been fairly status quo, yet Jim and I both felt change coming. And change it has...we're throwing out much of what we ever believed about religion and seemingly starting all over again. It feels as if we are being attacked at all sides...up, down and all around. Could use a satellite to help us watch for the next set of storm clouds.


Satellite headlines read
Someone's secrets you've seen
Eyes and ears have been
Satellite dish in my yard
Tell me more, tell me more
Who's the king of your satellite castle?


If you believe in Providence...then all of this has been planned out somewhere. If you believe in Free Will our lives are the result of our choices. Which one is it...or is it both. Tell me, which one is it...who's the king of my little world? Because I want to know if my thoughts and prayers pitched at heaven make one iota of difference in the long run...because some days I truly wonder...


Winter's cold spring erases
And the calm away by the storm is chasen
Everything good needs replacing
Look up, look down all around, hey satellite
Rest high above the clouds; no restriction
Television we bounce 'round the world
And while I spend these hours
Five senses reeling
I laugh about the weatherman's satellite eyes


It feels like a big game to me...just bouncing around.


Rest high above the clouds; no restriction


What would that be like...rest high above the clouds; no restriction. No worries about money, neighbors, the kids, what to do about church. Don't get me wrong...I'm loving the Orthodox thing. There's so much mystic-ness and magic and acceptance of the unknown...even welcoming of the doubts and questions that plague a Christian. That plague anyone. It feels good to know it's so accepted there...but it leads to more questions and more doubt and more to wonder and think about. The validation is good and freeing and scary at the same time.

And it's good to see the kids growing and changing. But with each passing day I know they will soon encounter the world, which isn't always such a friendly place. I hope I equip them to meet the challenge. The neighborhood isn't changing and we're not moving. At least not any time soon. I haven't grown enough to the point that I can live well with conflict. I wish to acquiesce even though I know we are right and this woman is wrong just to have the conflict over with. My inmost being strives for peace always...so living with so much dissonance is painful and exhausting.

I wish I could, just for a moment...be that satellite. Floating high above everything, able to see it all. For just a moment to escape experiencing it all...and to somehow see the patterns of the storms to come so as to better stock up and prepare battle plans. Living as you go is so difficult sometimes. No matter how hard we prepare it just doesn't seem to matter...something always fucks it up in the end.

Sorry I'm so melancholy....feeling overwhelmed and under done I suppose.

Have a good day...

Still sick...still on cold meds but you're probably sick of hearing about that. So, let me tell you about some interesting stuff I've been reading. My husband and I are investigating Orthodoxy fairly heavily right now. I am currently reading a book called, The Orthodox Way by Bishop Kallistos Ware. We are also reading together a book by Peter Gillquist called Becoming Orthodox. My husband is reviewing that one as we go along and you can find his commentshere . I want to comment on a few quotes from the Kallistos book.

From the Prologue:

"One of the best known of the Desert Fathers of the fourth-century Egypt, St Sarapion the Sindonite, travelled once on pilgrimage to Rome. Here he was told of a celebrated recluse, a woman who lived always in one small room, never going out. Skeptical about her way of life--for he was himself a great wanderer--Sarapio called on her and asked: 'Why are you sitting here?' To this she replied: 'I am not sitting, I am on a journey.'

I am not sitting, I am on a journey. Every Christian may apply these words to himself of herself. To be a Christian is to be a traveller. Our situation, say the Greek Fathers, is like that of the Israelite people in the desert of Sinai: we live in tents, not houses, for spiritually we are always on the move. We are on a journey through the inward space of the heart, a journey not measured by the hours of our watch or the days of the calendar, fir it is a journey out of time into eternity." (page 7)

Wow...I felt as I read that...in the doctor's office waiting to discover if I had bronchitis...that I had breathed in the cleanest, purest, freshest of air. I had to look back centuries to find a fellow Christian who understood the yearnings of my heart. I am not sitting, I am on a journey, even as I wash the dishes, sweep the floor, kiss my children (especially when I kiss my children), love my husband, walk the dog...It only looks to the casual observer as if I am standing still. There are no walls in my heart where my faith is concerned...and I finally found someone who gets it! With all of my being I wish this woman wasn't centuries dead...the dust of her long decayed bones scattered to the four corners of the earth. I would love to sit and talk with her about her thoughts...and her journey.

And then there is this from Chapter 1:

"One day some of the brethren came to see Abba Antony, and among them was Abba Joseph. Wishing to test them, the old man mentioned a text from Scripture, and starting with the youngest, he asked them what it meant. Each explained it as best he could. But to each one the old man said, 'You have not yet found the answer.' Last of all he said to Abba Joseph, 'And what do you think the test means?' He replied, 'I do not know.' Then Abba Antony said, 'Truly, Abba Joseph has found the way, for he said: I do not know.' The Sayings of the Desert Fathers" (p11)

Ahh...you see, in the Evangelical church there must always be an answer..."A + B = Christian." But apparently here, in the Eastern minded Orthodox Church...it's OK to not have an answer for every question...and to realize that the mystery of God is part of his Greatness.

More on the mystery of God from Chapter 1:

"Abraham journeys from his familiar home into an unknown country; Moses progresses from light into darkness. And so it proves to be for each one who follows the spiritual Way. We go out from the known to the unknown, we advance from light into darkness. We do not simply proceed from the darkness of ignorance into the light of knowledge, but we go forward from the light of partial knowledge into a greater knowledge which is much more profound that it can only be described as the darkness of unknowing." (pp 13 and 14)

and finally:

"Faith is not the supposition that something might be true, but the assurance that someone is there." (p 16)

The final quote has become part of my signature in the online discussion boards I participate in. And I must say that for the first time in my spiritual walk I feel validated. So I don't completely understand God and I never will...the more I learn the less I know and that's the way it's supposed to be. It is "The Way" as my Orthodox friends call it. Thank you God...and for the first time ever in my spiritual walk I feel as if I am laying prostrate before God...recognizing that for all of my knowledge of Him I will never completely understand Him..and that is part of the whole deal. Yes it makes no sense...but I understand it completely. I feel as if I am truly breathing for the first time....fresh, clean sweet air. I always knew this intuitively...but I never spoke of it. Such things being said in evangelical circles would cause a flurry of..."she's not really following God." Phone calls and letters and "you must be crazy to think..." The westernization of Christianity took away all of the mystery and wonder...and I dare say some of it's eternal truths. More and more I'm thinking by taking these seemingly backwards steps into the Orthodox way I am really jumping forward in my spiritual walk.

And I think I'll never quite be the same again.

Breathing Deeply,

Laura

So, I went to the doctor yesterday and he gave me a script for some cough medicine. This is the kind of stuff that has warning labels all over it about operating heavy machinery...etc. So, I waited until bedtime to take it. When you have small children it's always good to have as many as your wits about you as possible. So I take the schtuff and then hubby comes down to pray with me and tuck me in bed. We wrap it up and I say something like, "I'm glad I waited to take that stuff because now I can't feel my feet."

I think Jim patted me on the head and walked away. A little while later I heard my daughter (also sick) crying. I thought my husband was lying in bed next to me, usually he's awake writing. So I went upstairs to help Ana and there he is. I thought to myself, "Wow! He sure made it up here quickly. It's as if he flew." I went downstairs to discover that the dog was lying in bed next to me snoring and not hubby. That's some good stuff. It's now 10:00 approximately 12 hours after I took the stuff and I still feel groggy and tired. I was looking for a sponge this morning to scrub something in the kitchen with and it's was right next to me. I realized this after I turned the kitchen upside down looking for it. I'm telling you that's some serious shit...

My husband has pre-paid legal services as part of his benefits package through work. We pay a little for it, but it's nice to be able to call if you have a legal question. So I called the program in my drug induced haze to inquire what to do about this dog situation. The lawyer said not to worry about it. He seemed to think nothing would come of the whole thing. I'm still trying to figure out the logic of coming to harass me about the dog not being able to walk as opposed to immediately taking it to the vet. It's just outer limits in my estimation. The dog was fine when it walked away. We had a dog who did sustain a serious injury to its leg after falling down the stairs. It IMMEDIATELY limped and had issues...not 12 hours later. We also took the dog to the vet IMMEDIATELY...which is what you're supposed to do when your dog limps. Right?...am I missing something here? And if she doesn't have the cash to take the dog to the vet, then she needs to give it to someone who does. Ok...I'm finished with that except to say...I'm guessing one of her bull-faced kids was wrestling with it, hurt it and she conveniently remembered our episode from the day before as an excuse. If she comes back, I'll hand her our lawyer's name and number and see how far it goes.

Ok...I'm about to collapse into a puddle of cough syrup so anyway...have a nice day all...

Let me get the bad news out of the way first. Yesterday, I was taking trash cans to the alley for today is trash day. My dog, Baby, followed me out. Normally, I chain her up but I was only going to be outside for a moment and my neighbor was outside with his friend who loves my dog. If I had chained her up, she wouldn't have been able to say "hi" to Baby. At any rate, a lady comes down the alley with her Rottweiler. Being a dog lover, I go to pet the dog...Baby jumps the fence and the Rott goes crazy, Baby responds, my neighbor steps between them, I grab my dog, chain her in the back and then return to apologize to this woman. The Rott walked off hunky dory but not before stopping to bark at my dog and nearly pull her owner over in an attempt to get in my backyard and "at" my dog. You can probably guess what's next...This lady knocks on my door this morning and informs me that her dog can't walk. Uh huh...seemed fine yesterday! So I said, "Have you taken her to the vet?" which would be my first reaction if my dog couldn't walk.

"I'm just letting you know my dog can't walk."

"Ok, well take it to the vet and let me know what happens."

An hour later as I'm getting my two sick children ready to walk out the door Animal Control knocks on my door. We now have a citation against us. Ok...If it turns out that our dog is somehow responsible for the alleged injury...of course we'll pay for it. The citation was really not necessary, we are responsible people. The rest of my comments I'll keep to myself as I talked about how she cares for her children...you just never know who's reading this stuff.

Ana loves to play a little game now. We usually read two books before bedtime each evening. One of them is Goodnight Moon and the other is Silly Sally. I've been reading the former to her since before she could talk...it's a bedtime tradition. The latter is one of an ever changing band of books. Ana holds up Silly Sally as I'm reading Goodnight Moon thinking that I can't read the book to her...but of course I have it memorized so it really doesn't matter. She giggles like it is the funniest thing in the world. She does the same thing when we switch books...but Silly Sallyis one of those books that follows a formula so it's easy to retell (very good for developing a child's narrative skills....all those Eric Carle books are great for that as well...guess I can't stop being a speech-therapist), so I don't need to really see the words to "read" the book to her. It's just a fun game to play just before bedtime. I'm thinking of starting to read the Pooh and Beatrix Potter stories to her now as she and her brother play. Ana loves books and telling stories. I think she's ready for that. I'm kind of hoping she'll continue to let me read to her for a long time...I treasure that time so.

My son, David, has become a miniature Wal-Mart Greeter. At the "thing" after the funeral last week, David hung out in the kitchen eating deviled eggs and talking to whoever would listen. What's interesting is that you can't at all understand what he's saying, it's all giberrish, but he HAS so much to say and he knows what he's saying. And he's so very personable about it all...He's going to be a salesman...or a game-show host...or president...there not all that different really...are they?

Michael has been a bit on the trying side this weekend. He refused to pick up some toys from the front porch when a rainstorm was coming in. So I said, "You don't care if your toys get ruined?"

"No," he replied.

"Well I might as well go ahead and get a trash bag and throw them away now?"

"OK."

So I did...is that bad? I hope not...they were hauled away this morning. He also didn't pick up the crap off his floor this morning in a timely manner as I was preparing to sweep and mop the children's bedrooms. I gave plenty of time, plenty of warning. I don't mind cleaning, but I don't like to do all that straightening before cleaning. It's ridiculous...he's old enough to do it himself. So, I handed him the broom and mop and said, "You can sweep and mop your own floor after you pick it up."

"I'M NOT GOING TO!" was his reply. He was naked as he had gotten out of the shower 45 minutes ago and still hadn't gotten dressed and was very indignant. I firmly took him by the shoulders and said, "The consequence of your choosing not to get the floor picked up in a timely manner is that you now have to clean it yourself. I would've been glad to sweep and mop your floor for you had you picked it up as I asked. You WILL be mopping your own floor today. Any questions?"

No questions. He mopped the floor. There was an inch of standing water on the floor afterwards, but he did it. So, am I an evil step mom or what?

The funeral that is. I think just knowing that is was coming kind of enveloped me in some sort of gloomy fog. I have definitely been somewhat tense over the past few days. But it's all over now! But not without the typical glitches...I rushed around yesterday and got the cookies baked and some lemon bars for the "thing" afterwards. I don't know what that "thing" is called. Also got everyone's clothes ironed, except Jim's because I figured he'd take care of that himself. The only problem was that the skirt I had planned on wearing ended up being too big when I tried it on...after I'd ironed it. Once I got to the top of it with the iron, I realized the elastic waist looked big. I had worn this same skirt when I was pregnant...so perhaps it was stretched out. I decided to quickly iron a pair of pants which would go with the top for the skirt rather than starting all over. I pretty much envisioned myself playing outside with the kids anyway...

And so 30 minutes before we need to leave Jim is blissfully playing on the computer and I say to him, "How long does it take to get to this church anyway?"

"15 minutes. Oh crap, I need to stop this and go do that," meaning he needed to iron his clothes. 20 minutes later he came up dressed in a three piece suit. And I'm wearing pants...very casual. So I wasn't happy...

"You said it would be OK if I wore pants. You're wearing a suit!"

"It's a funeral honey," which I took to mean I was being stupid for wearing pants. But, he actually didn't mean that. He cleared that up later in the car when I asked him about it. "It's just what I wear to funerals. I'll probably be over dressed. You're fine. Don't worry about it."

And so, off we go. Late. Jim starts driving in a direction I didn't expect him to go and so I say, "I thought this church was off of 97."

He smirked, "Yes, you can definitely get there off of 97. But I'm going a different way." And that's when it started. The little thing in the bottom of my stomach that said..."we're going to the wrong damn church!" We arrived at the church and I said, "Your dad said Calvary Chapel or something. Not Granite Baptist...you said you knew which church!"

"You said it was the church Erica went to for preschool. This is that church," Jim said. "What do you want to do?"

"Drive around and see if your parents car is here. Otherwise, it's the wrong church."

No car. It was the wrong church. We went back to Jim's parents house where the "thing" would be after some discussion about going home first. Which seemed stupid to me...to drag the kids back home only to leave again an hour later. Jim's parents have a great back yard with a play set in the back. The kids could play there until the "thing" started. I kept thinking about Jim's mom and how I would feel if my brother died and then one of my kids didn't show up for the funeral. I felt awful. I smoked one cigarette, but it sucked. Didn't even smoke the whole thing. I think I'm really done this time.

In the middle of all this Jim's brother, Jae called and told Jim where the church was. The memorial service hadn't started yet. "Do you want to go?" he asked.

"I'm not loading the kids back into the car. Why don't you go. See if Mike wants to go with you," I said.

"I don't want you to be mad at me if I leave you alone here with the kids, " said JIm.

"Just go. I said. I'm not mad and you need to be there for your mom."

He went. I stayed and chased the kids around outside for awhile, trying to keep the inside of the house in reasonable shape. Then we went inside to watch veggie tales. Mike stayed outside until he climbed on the roof of the play-set after I told him not to (No car...how am I going to take him to the ER if he falls off??). Soon after everyone else arrived. I didn't know any of these people save about 5 of them. They all seemed very nice. One of Jim's cousins is going to take our old baby swing. That's always good...too pass along the love.

In the midst of all of this I have to say how much I love my brother-in-law, Jae. He somehow seems to always add levity to situations. Jae, well, Jae "plays for the other team." He told me he had something new under his clothes I couldn't see.

"OOHH...is it a tatoo?" I said.

"NO....I got the patch. I'm quitting smoking," he said.

"OH, I would've been more excited if it were a tatoo. Not that I'm upset you're quitting smoking. That is a good thing," I backed myself up.

"The tatoo is in the works," he said.

"What're you getting?" I asked excitedly.

"Well," He said looking at me with a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips,"I think I want a scorpion, with a male symbol in one claw and the world in the other. Believe me, I could get away with that."

That's Jae. He's a total scream. He also leaned over to me while I was talking with Jim's cousin who is totally bald and said, "I also started with Rogaine." Gotta love Jae. He was the best part of the "thing."

All this to say...Please no funeral for me. Spend the money on some children's charity. You KNOW that's what I'd want. Dispose of my remains as cheaply as is reasonably possible. Cremate me or chop me up and use me for fertilizer. I don't care. And if you want to get together and eat that's fine by me. I love to eat so that seems fitting. But please, no somber funeral thing. It's just not me. Unless you give me one of those New Orleans Jazz style funeral parade things. That would be OK...but just the parade part. That's all. No tombstone. I've written enough of this drivel for endless tombstones. There's plenty laying around to tell others about my life. I hope my children tell the story of me better than any tombstone could anyway.

Blessings....

Laura