Thanks, Bebo

I really wish I could type while driving. And while walking on the 'mill. So many of my best thoughts (I think) occur to me while I'm moving through space and/or am in motion. I'm horrible at writing while driving, although I sometimes try. Not so good for the safety, plus I can almost never read what I wrote.

So this is merely a recounting, a few days later. There is probably less clarity now.

On a recent solo roadtrip (incredibly rare these days) I had a moving relationship with a Christian rock musician's very Christian album. I was borrowing my brother- and sister-in-law's car, and flinched when the cd player starting playing this music. But I was off the grid, so the tuner wasn't working well, and it was the only cd I could see. The musician's name is Bebo Norman. The song that first brought me to tears is called, "Britney." It's about Britney Spears and how she's been used and abused. And about how we should all love each other. After getting over how wierd it was that I was crying for Britney Spears, I realized that I have been mostly too insecure to think of the people around me as my brothers and sisters. I'm overly protective of myself and family. I act without love often.

But that is exactly what all these people are, and if I was smart, I'd let Jesus be my primary example for how to live. I mean it. (It's hard for me to write these words because I'm worried I'm going to be perceived as someone who is delusional. And that I'll turn into a Republican.)

But I am a believer. I am. I believe in God. And the devil - but this part is new for me, and is an acknowledgement made while listening to Mr. Norman's music on the drive. I remember thinking in grade school that I believed in God, but not Mr. Satan. And I have held that belief, that God is real and good, and that people make good and bad choices, and that those bad choices are THE cause of what's wrong with the world. I do believe we are in control of our choices and need to hold ourselves accountable for their consequences. But I also believe that there is evil (which makes me sound like "W," who I loathe. I know this is not very Jesus-like of me, but I just do. Working on it.) I was thinking about how old religion is, and how it's people's actions related to their religious beliefs that are the source for a wholelotta enmity and some of the worst of human behavior. And how we hurt each other in both small and carnal ways, we people all over the world. There are so many things beyond our control. The human capacity to love and hate are both so humongous. There are so many things that are beyond our control. People become so desperate, and sometimes hope just isn't an immediate option. But hopelessness shouldn't necessarily cause malice. Fear, sadness, anger, anxiety - sure. But not malice. And malice is real, so the devil must be, too. Right?

To believe in evil is a tiny relief and a hugely terrifying thing. It's a tiny relief because it gives me hope that we people can be saved. I mean, if there's a force for bad that arranges circumstances to encourage bad decisions, we are salvageable. If we're coming up with all that terribility on our own, we don't deserve to be saved. Now, it's a skinny, faded, tortuous line, the one between believing in the power of evil and accepting responsibility for our choices while learning from the mistakes that History wants to teach. For me, it's so easy to let all kinds of things distract me. I let the fog settle in, or the sunshine pour over me, and I can hardly see that line at all.

So right now I'm praying every time I think of it for a hospitable, open heart so I can treat the people around me like the sisters and brothers they are to me. And for some metaphorical tinted, diamond-coated, prescription goggles to protect my eyes from the fog and the sunshine, to help me stay focused on this.

the awakening "mommay", the sheet fwiffing back, the one-foot-high-heeled toddler clonking toward me, the washing machine humming and gurgling, the wooden stair creaking, the cereal tinking into the porcelain bowl, the milk getting sucked into the cereal, the coffee machine choking out its last drops, the harsh sound of my voice saying "no" almost first thing, the back door criching open and closed again, the cats meeeewing, the car engine clearing its throat, the sink rushing and dishes cathunking into the dishwasher, the telephone twonhwonhwonhwonhing, the sound of my mother's voice, the sound of my own harsh voice again, my swallowing coffee, the gate crunking closed, the washer still humming and gurgling, the sink rushing and my hands in it splashing my face, WAKE UP JESSICA. This is your morning for which to be grateful, and instead you wasted the day being grunchy and short. You have one motherhood, one wifeness, one July 23, 2009, and now it's about over (just the July 23rd). And you did okay, but man, you could do so much better. Grow, girlfriend. And just be better, especially to those little people who have no choice but to live with you. Talk better, more gently, and be gentler. LISTEN instead of remembering the sounds later.

wormholes

almost indescribable, not in a good way, today. seriously. here my pregnant patient was exposed to bacterial meningitis at an osh and f*ing MJ has a casket made of gold. what the shit. seriously. and i didn't even see o. today. and i can't stop this day from wearing holes in my brain. need some france.

Up and at 'em

We enjoyed an inspiring visit with friends who had traveled circuitously to STL from Maine this past weekend, punctuating road travel with overnight stays in the homes of old friends. They were here with their beautiful 6-month-old for two days/nights of lovely ambling, eating, drinking and conversing. These friends are impassioned academics who spoke so eloquently of their respective work endeavors that, after saying goodbye to them this morning, I found myself feeling less-than satisfied with my own current work/life situation.
I have a great husband. We have two beautiful children who are awesome. And I do work that I’ve found incredibly satisfying. But I’ve just kind of sunk into the easiness of my job now. Complacency – ick.
So I have two new challenges for myself:
1 Get the bikes ready for the summer. The longest day of the year is 8 days away.
2 Do something professionally enriching while outside of work ONCE A WEEK. And then try to share it with coworkers.

Note to self:

Hey Jess, this is yours.

soft

babies with the flu. not good. so soft, though, and really cuddly. i'm pretty sure the earnest puking hasn't yet begun. i've heard tell of this recent flu. i fear it. it makes me want to go out and buy 6 gallons of pedialyte. and some angiocaths, iv tubing and sterile fluids.

but i'm not a survivalist.

i'm really not, but having kids has swung me much further toward that end of society's spectrum than i ever thought i'd get. having kids and having read Stephen King's The Stand.

speaking of reading, i think eli's getting close. i think we need to read to owen more. owen who IAMSURE is saying "car." and "cat." and "clark," which is what he calls Eli (as in Kent). and they sound almost the same, but so what? we both know what he's saying. as eli says, "mom, it's the context."

bingo girl and a light-up shirt

three. it's such a great age...for watching your kid doing some (very special) moves, for language development and the happy word conflations that come with it ("appertizement" is one of my favorites - combo of appetizer and refreshment), for playground play advancements, for PLAY. it's really fun to play with a child who takes on an alternate identity for months at a time, who is unabashedly proud of himself and his accomplishments and acquisitions.

take the Batman...in line at the grocery store today to pay for his own box of Batman fruit snacks, eli looks up at the cashier, hands him the box and says proudly, "those are my bat snacks. i have THREE pairs of Batman pajamas at home. AND a Batman costume." nevermind that the costume has holes from being worn for so many hours. i'm planning on framing it to hang on his wall. or maybe in the living room.