"...and what's new with you?"

This time last year, I was the Director of a Homeschool Co-Op. I was 'actively' engaged.  I was homeschooling 2 children.  I had a 1 year old who was in the prime of discover.  I had a teenager who was in continuous self-revelationy mode himself which created tension, chaos, denial, but strengthen a parental bond.  I was closely assisting with the transition of a new Children's Ministry Director at our Church, i had hours to volunteer, I was planning a trip for Paris and my life was never in a series of question that I find myself in 365 days later.

In a matter of months, and much of it by choice, but ALL of it by God's will - I am no longer in my co-op.  I am no longer homeschooling.  My 1 year old is now 2.  My teenager is still is a teenager - but gone are the days of battled endeavors that daily plagued this family. I took myself out of Children's Ministry, volunteering is at a minimum and there are no pending trips to Paris at this time.

But, I am (and as it seems, forever shall be) in a world of suffering.  Again, a choice, as well as a direction of a Divine Will.

What is new with me? you ask.  What *is* new with me.  Not a whole lot.  I can take up several minutes of your time with an enraptured cadence about this new found world of grief.  Other than that???  I would be hard pressed to find something.  

Today, I sought council because of an invitation by my pastors. I had written them both am emotionally charged, exasperating email and they both wrote immediately, wanting to see me.

I am at the end of my course. I am confused, i lay in question, I am resistant, I am angered.  This is what is new with me.  I sat for just over an hour - refusing to cry.   Refusing to show affect of this.  I had to prove to myself that I was still strong and viable.  My pastor cried for me.  He showed an incredible love for me.  "Katie, we've got your back, sistah!  We will cry for you when you can't.  The fact that you are here, that you wrote an email means that you are fighting for this."

The end of our meeting lead to more business about some responsibilities i have at the moment.  it was good to end there. I composed myself to head on out.   As we walked down the hall, a friend poked herself out of her office.  "Hey, can you come in and talk for a while?  Here, take a seat.  Do you have a second to talk?  What's new with you?"

"I Don't Belong Here"

So.... belonging.

This past October, when my world was literally flying through  multiple open venues, my Pastor called me on the phone and requested my presence on our church council. I truly did not take too long to think about this.  There were no pros or cons.  I had completely accepted the transition of my life at that time and took this as another placement by God.  He had cleared my agenda thus far and I had no place for argument....with the occasional, 'why me? why now? why this? why the rush?" (smile)

This post has all intention of being  blunt and to the point. And perhaps there will be unanswered questions on this end, or even assumptions made by myself that do not all together fit.  But, I have to honor the stream of consciousness that has brought me to this point.

January 28 and 29: Church Council Retreat: Oak Ridge Conference Center, Chaska, Minnesota.  

Tonight, I sat nicely in my chair that occupied 1 of 5 spaces at the orderly placed round table.  My green folder with agenda and newly Xeroxed pages sat waiting for me.  We began in prayer, which was okay, and then we had speakers discuss their timely work on our newly developed Strategic Plan.  After, we sang songs, prayed as a group and then had additional round table discussions.  All together, we were approximately, 25 or so in number (this included some staff as well as the Vision Team Committee that spear headed the Strategic Plan).

A question was posted towards the end of the Power Point Presentation.  “Where did you start? and Where are you now?  We were guided in discussing our faith walk and where we were within the midst.  I was the last one to answer in my small group – which was just as well; I was able to compare my thoughts and ideals and try to match something to anyone at the table; but I couldn’t.  I couldn’t find one single, solitary match. 

Inconspicuously, i pulled out my phone and texted my husband and a friend: "I don't belong here"

But I needed to find a way to answer without leaving further room for question.

I feel like I don’t belong in a church : an edifice that dictates my being.  I feel this is misplaced.  Worship should only enhance the flavor of my love and devotion to God; but it doesn’t.  These people talked about the moment they found God.  The moment that He reached out to them and called them by name.  The life altering event or the church small group they found themselves in, the clarity of worship.  The quiet moment in prayer. The backing of Theological reference and study. 

I went out on a limb and naively stated that God is not in a church for me.  Religion is not in a pew.  I tried my best to explain my feelings openly.  “I don’t know the bible very well.  I can’t quote scripture. In life, church for me was the homeless man in the alley, the child with no lunch,dirty shirt and hardships,  even a quiet Sunday bike ride, a coastal drive at sunset and a moment of finding and discovering my best self in God.   As I grew, I worked with neglected and severely abused  children.  As a young adult, I brought in children to my home whom were in need of a familial diversion.  I feel God  leads me in my life to certain people or places and I follow.  Presently, I am helping a woman who lost her husband whom I did not even know 10 months ago and she and I (this is where I had to cut it short, as I would have for sure been too emotional and this would not bode well), are working into a friendship. It’s God.   I feel I need to live a spiritual life.  Where I am or how I got here, I do not know…..but ……(and then I couldn’t really answer and this is when they all just looked at me)…I don’t think I ever had a ‘hit on the head with a rock’ kind of moment.  So, I am still learning.”

Then it just went on.  We had more prayer time, communion, sang too many songs and called it a night – with the exception of an impending social hour.

So, this is me. 

I don’t even like quoting formulated and massed produced prayers.  I really feel unsettled when it calls for an All Congregation moment of prayer or to sing songs that I do not know that bear no weight or symbolism in my world.  Does that make sense?  I will quote the Apostle Creed, I will follow through with the 5 lines of what ever is printed in the bulletin, but it doesn’t bring me closer to God.  Again, I am sure I am wrong in all this, or at least uneducated. 

Tomorrow, when it is all business again, I will try to fill a spot of agreeance .  I will try to accommodate my need to flee with my need to contribute.  I don’t know why I said yes to this council, but I am trusting God that this is where I am supposed to be – although I am kicking and screaming like a baby, on the inside.

Maybe there is a crash course in Theology I can take.  Maybe I can jot down friendly and impressive scripture passages; "Hey, did you hear of the passage in Mark 8?  Oh ya, wasn't that a kick in the pants?" 

 I need to learn a great deal.

We have breakfast at 7:30.  I am so happy I have my own room tonight! Something the outcast in me requested from the council president; as I did not want to spend an evening with a 'roomie'

re-reading the text - it's gibberish. 

 I appreciate the open ear.

Change in Tide

Earlier this afternoon, I was all but ready to post another "motherly angst against teenager" post.  As I drive 12 year old to a school event, I made the conscious decision to simply bury the issue.  I came home, hugged my 14 year old and told him I loved him  and sarcastically added that we will make it through.  Albeit a humorous additive to life, this is not what holds down the weight to my days.  The significance to my life always and forever will be my husband and children and I have ultimatelly found balance between my home environment, my need and desire to parent my children and my goal to be a supportive wife to my husband.

 But....

I am again, called to grieve and carry on with a friend.

This past December, Joy had to deliver some life changing news to her children. In addition, her back gave out on her and she has been coping in this life during the Christmas season with a very compromised physicality.  

Without wanting to face the reality, it has been getting progressively worse and because of this, her world has been in great need.   Today, her 10 year old daughter and I went out to complete the birthday shopping for the soon to be 13 year old this Saturday.  Upon returning home, Joy texts me to let me know that she her leg is going numb below her knee.  She calls the doctor and he orders an MRI.  How do you go to an ER with 4 scared kids and tell them that Mommy needs to get an MRI....the understanding that a back needs to be fixed is the logical view, but the emotional weight of a sick parent is too much to carry on young souls.

As she and I were on the phone talking, my 14 year old was outside shoveling the remainder of the snow off the driveway.  He was in great need of raising the remainder of his Ski Lift Ticket.  I approached him with a smile on my face, "Well, dear, you are in good luck, I need to go to the hospital, and YOU get to babysit your baby brother.  You should be free and clear with your finances by tomorrow."

So, with great enforcement, one friend comes in, gathers all of Joy's children to bring them to Grandmas house.  I arrive and get Joy into the car.

I sit as she lays upon the bed and tell her that I am writing.  I do not tell her that I am tearing on the inside as to why this is happening.  There is no *good* in this.  The intake nurse states, "It says here that David Plaisted is your emergency contact - is this still the case?"  "No, he died in March" came the quiet reply.

I write.  I write through the bad, the awful,, the ugly and the good.  I am trying to find the good.

Tomorrow, I will pile 5 large teenagers in my car with skis and snowboards, helmets, boots, etc.  I am able to afford a living memory for my son and I think to a certain degree, I am encouraging this friendship that he has with his very good friends.  Friends that any mom would be happy to have in her home.  This is good.

Thanks for listening.

There is a Baker Amongst Us....

I seem to tilt my head to the left and then look over my right shoulder.  "Where?" I ponder.  "Where is that baker? Clearly not here.

I am not one to go down without a fight

Yes, I have declared the position of baking in the year 2012.  Picture me, the hostess mom with a plate full of *something* when the kids come home.  In honesty, there is an almost emptied bag of chip crumbs.  A box of crackers that have been left open and on the verge of stale.  Juice that fills 1/4 a cup (drip, drip, drip). And most days, I great them with a beer in hand.  Well, no, that last sentence isn't true.  I have already had the beer...the bottle is in the recycling :)

What have I learned in my last 3 baking episodes?
1. I have much to learn.
2. Following directions is a must (at least for me and my outcomes)
3. "Katie Improvisings" will yield unpleasant results
4. Tools are everything
5. While cooking with a toddler certainly has it's benefits; the expectation of greatness needs to be out buried deep down into the ground.
6. Presentation doesn't do a thing but make the food look pretty.  No flavor enhancement whatsoever
7.
8.
9.
10.

oh, so much more to learn.

Last night, I made a delicious Machaca (mexican dish). No directions - just creative flow.  I went to bed with the tantalizing sense that I was going to get to eat more of it for lunch today.  10:30 rolled around this morning and i was already digging into it.

2:00 came today, the buzzer dinged, I pulled out my lovely looking Pumpkin Tarts, took a bite and shook my head in dismay.  Am I discouraged by this --- not necessarily.  I have resolved that i need to be a bit more precise.

Present Baking History

1. Banana Bead:  This simple bread took most of the morning as i scrutinized over the given text








2. (no picture yet) Whole Wheat Rolls:  Why whole wheat? because it was the only flour i had that said it was good for bread.  The plain white flour didn't say anything; so that scared me.  I didn't even have a roll recipe - but made the rolls from the 'bread loaf' recipe instead and found some youtube video on how to bake the rolls.

3. Pumpkin Tarts: I knew that i needed the crust and I knew that i needed something with pumpkin.  I bought better flour and checked ingredients for a pastry dough.  I did not, however, follow the directions on how to make it. Well, i *did*, but i improvised when it was not the 'ball like' consistency that was needed.  The filling was a complete creation.  I looked at three separate recipes and took bits and pieces out of all three that suited my fancy.  Assumptions were made and the fractional elements of success were impeded upon someone with little patience.  Also - Youtube assisted me again; there are quite a few bakers out there who love to teach how to make tart shells.

So, I need to find something a little bit more my style.  But, i refuse to go back to cutting out the cookies of the refrigerated rolled pillsbury guy and fake those off as a home made addition.  I admit, there have been times that I have gone to the store, bought something that looked like i could make (mainly overpriced brownies), cut them up, put them on a plate and pass them off as mine.  It hasn't been many times, but it has happened.  Although, one time, it was a bit difficult as someone brought the same exact dessert and was smart enough to leave it in the store bought pan.  I made sure to move mine farther down the table - as to not bring upon suspicion (laugh).

Time is up.

Dialogue in Teenage-Hood

Toddlers have shirts crafted after their life motivation: making the world all about them ~  "Mine-Mine-Mine"  This is an expected phase and adults often excuse this behavior as the presumed and anticipated.  


During these present moments, I am experiencing this same model, not with my toddler but with my 14 year old. I often think that marketers have missed their mark.  Those cute 2T t-shirts that have toddler-esque tag lines are wasted on the young.   The whole 'mine' and 'no' and 'here comes trouble' can just as easily be applied to teenagers.


A bit of conversation in timeline of past days---- i hope you can follow along.  But first - some ground rules (if not mentioned before).


1. Music instruments are to be practiced 5 days a week.  If not achieved, then music lessons that week are to be paid by participant.


2. Chores are expected each and every day.  Responsibility lies solely on the family member.  If no chores are completed, then no payment is received for said chore.


3 Payday is every other Friday


January 9 - 13 (payday 1/13)
Knowing he had a ski date coming up on the 21, he worked very hard this week to earn enough money to go.  He also knew that payday was the 13th, so all monies had to be acquired by the 13th to be able to go.      Getting him to do guitar practice was a battle that week.


January 16 - 20
No Chores.  None.  Sat on his small butt on the couch. Wandered around the house with hands in his pockets.  Built legos. Wandered some more.  Gave short, one word answers when attempting to engage in conversation.  On Friday afternoon, he practiced guitar on his own.  (guitar lessons are on Tuesdays. Beginning on Friday was calculated out - this would be the first of five days of practice)


Saturday: Skiing all day.  9am - 9pm.  He gets home around 9:30.  Dead tired.  Opens up guitar case, sits on his bed.  Plucks a few chords and stares at the floor on and off for 15 minutes.  "I'm going to bed," he declares when I make my presence known.  Ultimately, this means that he will be paying for lessons.  


Before he falls asleep, "Mom, my friend is having a surprise birthday party at the mall tomorrow.  We area all going to have lunch and then go see a movie.  It's at 2pm.  Soooo, can i go?"


"Perry, I am fresh out of money.  Do you have anything saved up from your chores?"
"I spent it on snowboarding today."
"Well, then, I'm afraid you can't go.  Sorry."
"Sooooo, you are saying that I can't go?"
"Yes, that is what you are hearing me tell you. My guess is that if you were consistent in doing chores on a daily basis, you would have plenty of money to go."


SUNDAY MORNING, JANUARY 22
"Mom, about today.  Is there a way that I can go to the party?"
Exasperated, "No, Perry.  You cannot go!"
Little sister adds into conversation, "Perry, I have 50 dollars if you want to borrow it."
"Hey, thanks!"  "Mom, so will you be able to drive me to the mall?  I need to be there before 2pm."
"I'm thinking you need to arrange your own ride on this one."
"Mom, I have it arranged that I will go with my friend's family if you are able to pick us up."
Coaching him: "Mom, is it okay if you pick me and my friend up from the Mall tonight? If so, i would really appreciate it."
He responds, "So, does that mean you will be picking us up tonight?"


Side Note: I pulled sister aside. I made her draft up a contract and Perry had to give up snowboard as collateral.  He gets until Sunday, January 29th to pay it off.


Because I am upset that he is able to go on his own 'borrowed' dime. I bring up the sensitive subject of guitar - that still has not been touched.


"Perry, I need to tell you that you owe me 20.00 for your lesson on Tuesday."
"Well, there is no way i can earn 20.00 before Tuesday."
"Then I have no choice - you will not be able to go and if you do not go, you are telling me that this is not a priority, but rather an expensive hobby.  I can't have this and will have to end your lessons."
"Well, okay, if you want to make that decision, then go ahead."


SUNDAY EVENING, JANUARY 22
"Mom, since i have no school on Friday, I'm thinking about getting a bunch of friends together to go snowboarding all day.  Would you be able to take us to Hyland?"


very agitated at this point.  
Another aside - many moons ago, i told him that if he earned half of the ski lift ticket, I would pay the rest.  I am regretting this statement.


Calmly:
"Perry, you owe your sister $15.00 from your time on Saturday.  You need to earn an additional $20.00 to go snowboarding.  How do you intend on making 35.00 this week?" (and of course, this Friday falls on a payday)
"I am going to go work on a contract right now and if I can earn more than 8 dollars a day with chores, i can do it."
"So, you are taking guitar off the table for good?"
"Well, i won't be able to earn 20 by Tuesday and *you* are the one who made that decision...soooo, i guess.....ya."


again...getting agitated. Here is this boy willing to work his butt off for something he really wants: Mall and Snowboarding.  But not something that is a privilege and an art...AND he was the one that encouraged both his father and I to agree to giving him lessons.  He REALLY wanted this. 


MONDAY AFTERNOON AFTER SCHOOL
"Mom, here is my list of chores that I am going to do.  I can earn 7 dollars to today and I can earn 10 tomorrow - IF i am allowed to watch Sidney for an hour and do other chores. So, I can pay lucy off and begin to work on my lift ticket for Hyland." 


"So, it looks like you have 17.00 earned by Tuesday.  This means that you are close to 20.00!  YOU CAN PAY FOR GUITAR!!


"What?!  Well, what about Hyland?!" 


"Perry, you need to figure out what your priorities are.  You have said that you wanted to stay in guitar, but I was pulling rank on you with having to put your money into it.  Being that you really want to stay in it, here is your chance my dear!"  


A mumbled, "Okay,  i will do guitar."


"Good Choice!'


"So, that means that I will really need to work hard this week to earn the extra money for Hyland."


Yesterday, he worked from 3 - 7 doing all kinds of chores around the house.  


I don't see him being able to carry this off --- but knowing my son, he is going to find a way.  I have already taken babysitting off the table as i have told him that if he showed he was a contributing member of this house and had a good track record, I would be more than happy to give him a couple of babysitting jobs to earn extra money.  Both last night and tonight, I will be going out.  Lucy, the 10 year old,  has been in charge.  I have left after the baby has fallen asleep, so the responsibility is minimal.   He has also been said No to on other occasions because of his lack of responsibility around here.  


So, akin to my younger self in trying to navigate a perfect system to, I am still trying to figure it all out.  


Thanks for listening 


Extra:
1. When you're a teenager, 'No' is a complete sentence
2. Raising teenagers is like trying wrestle slippery pigs with your hands tied behind your back
3. Having teenagers is like living with a bowling alley inside your head
4. Mothers of teenagers know why animals eat their young
5. Raising a teenager is like nailing Jell-O  to a tree

Relativity

Today, I received some news from a friend that left me a bit startled.  I reflected for a moment and committed to the fact that my world is just too small.

I write about sitting in a new office or my desire to bake.   Simple in structure.

My world is relative to where I am at.  My awareness is keen but not prominent.  My momentary existence surrounds 3 pre-teen/teenage kids and a baby.  We are healthy, we are happy, we live in suburbia.

When I discuss World issues with my children, they add in only so much as possible.  It is not relative to their immediate presence.

Blogs are directed at realities: death, toddling children, aging parents, chronic illness, despair, abuse, hope, even blinded environment.  Slants from this issue to that issue.

This blog is relative.  It has to be something.  It is what I know.

I look at this Blog and the 'relativeness' clearly is narrowed.  Presently, it is uncomplicated.  I am not in pursuit of something different; but acknowledging that this life is far from trauma, controversy, and/or pain.  I shall ride this wave for a while.

Voilia

New beginnings abound.  Clearly, I have baked before and i have had moderate success.

Baking is a completely different ballgame.   There are directions!  And, if you don't follow these directions, your whole world might spiral.  I don't do well with directions.  

No directions in cooking --- at least in my kitchen.  No two meals are the same.  "Mom, this is really good.  We should have this again!"  "Yes, we should, but I don't think I can repeat it."

Today, Sidney and I made banana bread.  Easy recipe - but perhaps a gateway for other baking experiences.  

This is Sidney in his older sister's apron.  He was very proud to wear it.

THE BEGINNING

Sidney was adamant about keeping the bananas out of the mix. This was the second attempt at saving them.

Domestication

I have exactly 23 minutes to figure out how to become domesticated.


** humorous make (someone) fond of and good at home life and the tasks that it involves: you've really domesticated him

Okay --- i am domesticated.  But, i have an odd yearning to live up to the potential of that word.

This past Fall, I ordered a couple of 'cooking' and 'baking' magazines from Lucy's magazine drive.  The ideal of this was coupled by warmer days and an accepting attitude.  I also have ordered a Wine magazine....if that adds anything to the story line.

Today, I made myself a list of all the fun domesticated things i can partake in while the baby is taking is daily nap.

We are now down to 20 minutes.

Baking:  I can actually become a baker.  Or i can pretend to be one.  The only apron i own is one that i bought for my daughter many years back when she had to dress the part of a chef for a book club.  It was a 2pack, so there is a plain white one that i wear or a very colorfully decorated one with Lucy's name on it.  This is only symbolic because it gives a visual to how much energy goes into baking in this household.  Not that one needs to wear an apron, mind you, but it adds to the completeness of venture.

I can bake breads, fun treats for the kids when they get home (that whole, warm plate of cookies sitting on the table picture)  Too many times, I have had to turn down my participation in something because i do not possess the baking gene. But, i am going to try. "No store bought products please..."  "Sorry, kids, I am going to have to sit this one out."

Cooking:  I am always going to the store at 5pm almost daily, picking up dinner for the evening.  This afternoon, it was 11 degrees outside.  "I should have planned better," came a thought.  In my domestication dream, i have meals planned in advance.

17 minutes left

I will write more --- start on my book.
I will draw more --- somewhere

I will have purpose.

Sewing: Domesticated people sew.  I tried that once and ended up going to a thrift store, ripping out the tags of an outfit and passed it off as something i made in Home EC class.  I forget the grade i received- but i imagine it was decent.  I received failing marks from my kindergarten teacher in 'cutting' and she went so far as to tell me that i needed help in that area.  If memory servers, there is a lot of cutting in the culture of sewing.

12 minutes left


Crafting: i am sorry to say, but if the craft requires more than Elmer's glue and pipe cleaners - then count me out.

Ironing: Another faux paus.  My husband was taught in the military how to iron an article of clothing properly.  Lucky for me, i was never in the military and one look at my ironing abilities almost 23 years ago, sealed the deal.  My husband irons our family's clothing - not me.

9 minutes to figure this all out 


7 minutes to go....thinking, thinking, thinking.


I think i will surf baking sites in the time remaining.

5 minutes ---- got to go.

Thanks for listening.

Changing Shapes

We laughed today as I asked, "Why would you want to know if my laundry smells because it has stayed in the machine too long?"  


Changing shapes into something mundane and humdrum


Today marks 10 months

I have allowed myself to be tangled within her world.  To be taken down into the depths of her despair as well as be there when there was a small glimmer of light and hope to her day.  She has stood strong and steadfast on her own terms, "I need to grieve, i want to grieve.  If this is too hard, I understand."

At times her heart and soul were like putty in my hands, but more often, she has glued herself back together innumerable times completely on her own.

We have acknowledged and analyzed this relationship that started with an electric jump and demanded that we find purpose in this quasi parallel journey.

And..... we have vowed to always be honest.  Blatantly honest.


Last month, my cup runneth over with more devastating news.  I retreated within myself.  I excused my absence.  At the end of the day, a gallon of paint and a smile were not going to fix this one.  My anger presented itself in silence and seeking.

In changing shapes, we look to the other - naive presence at times, asking to break these waves with something new. Something building.  The ground markings have been there; now it is up to us to keep up in it's definition.

We are building a new friendship through all this.  A friendship in definition.  A, "Hey, whatsa doin'?" simple question commitment.

The pathway in finding the other has been extraordinary.  The dance of friendship in a complete sense has not been experienced and I am excited at the prospect.  We are changing shapes.

I know of her struggles. I know of her desire for blue skies.  I know her tears. Her resignation.  I know her strength.  I know her need for purpose.

In today's 10 month marker, we went out to lunch.  a deliberate conversation that wrapped the other in love, humor, future engagements.

10 months today.  looking back.  looking ahead.  remembering. planning. smiling and not forgetting.

Thanks for listening.