Some things are worth repeating.  I wrote this blog last summer and haven't thought of these particular words much since but Grace is always in my conversation, it's always on my mind.  I'm amazed by Grace.  I think one of the reasons that I am so amazed by it is that I never expect it.  I always think I need to work a little harder, be a little better, write a little clearer.  Then I receive Grace from someone who lets me know that without my having to do anything, I'm already enough, without having to change to something better, I'm already acceptable, and without another edit, my work is finished. 

The Grace of God and the Grace of my friends has carried me through months that I now look back on with a sense of relief that I just got through them.  I used the metaphor back in December of a seed, that I felt like a seed fallen into the cold dark ground.  Sometime over this past week, that seed burst open.  I reached the absolute lowest point emotionally, spiritually, mentally and all I could do was cry.  But on the other side of that storm I found that the shell was broken and something fresh, new and tender is uncurling from my life, pushing toward the sun. 

Does it sound like hyperbole?  Maybe, but it FEELS great. 

Daughter of Grace ~

A group of theologians held a symposium at Oxford to discuss world religions.  One session was devoted to the attempt to isolate just exactly what element was unique to Christianity.  Other religions claim incarnation, revealed scripture, prophecy, a personal God and so the debate continued.  C. S. Lewis wandered in as they were in the midst of the question and asked what was on the table.  After they explained he said, "Oh, that's simple ~ it's grace."  Then he strolled back out leaving them open-mouthed. 

Grace may be the defining characteristic of Christianity, but I have found few Christians would say they are walking in grace.  It's easy to understand, it's the hardest thing in the world to incorporate grace into life.  We resist extending grace to each other.  Sometimes I think that we are worried that if people really understood grace they would take it as license to follow whatever impulse arose.  But I find the opposite to be true.  A verse in Paul's letter to the Romans ends, "...the kindness of God [Grace] leads you to repentance."  That word repentance is a stumbling block for a lot of us.  When I see it I think of the weird old guy on the corner shouting "Repent for the end is near!"  Generally, I take it that anyone who is encouraging me to repent is asking for me to feel remorse, to wallow in self-loathing or to focus on regret for past action. 

Repentance isn't about the past, it's about the future.  Repentance is the action of turning to a new thing, rising to a new level, opening to a new experience.  I can repent of anything.  I can repent the fact that I regularly make sure dinner is on the table at 6:00 pm by letting the guys fix their own dinner.  Repentance is not feeling, it's action.  The longer I walk in relationship with God, the more I realize that He isn't nearly as concerned with how I feel as with what I do.  My feelings are subject to rapid shifts and are influenced by my hormones, my allergies, and my dinner.  The thing that God looks at closely is what I do in spite of how I feel.  I'm not going to say that there is anything inherently wrong with feeling regret, but I fear that all too often we are content to feel the feeling and think that we've satisfied the need to repent. 

I can't think of anything more likely to motivate me to try harder, to be softer, or to let go of my defensiveness than the awareness of unconditional love - grace.  I'm a total sucker for positive reinforcement.  If Tim walks in and says, "Wow!  You really worked hard today.  This place looks great."  I have never once responded, "Oh, but look at that little smudge on the window, I just feel awful about not getting that off."  On the other hand, if he walks in and says, "The place looks great except for that smudge ..."  Well, lets just say it doesn't go well from there. 

Somehow we've gotten the impression that walking with God is like trying to please the person who notices every little flaw, every mistake, and every stray thought.  Even if we marshal that monumental will to try and live that way, soon our spirit is sapped of all joy and we are reduced to grim determination.  I've known my share of the grimly determined, and frankly, they are not my favorite people to have around.  Not only do they focus on all their short-comings, but they seem especially sensitive to my own. 

On the other hand, I've been privileged to know a few people who were filled with grace.  These people practice kindness toward themselves and understanding toward the people around them.  They don't say, "You missed a spot here."  If they even see the spot, they never mention it. 

I have recently discovered the writings of Annie Dillard.  She has some marvelous things to say but I found one passage that has haunted me: 

     "My back rests on a steep bank under the sycamore; before me shines the creek - the creek which is about all the light I can stand - and beyond it rises the other bank, also steep, and planted in trees.
     I have never understood why so many mystics of all creeds experience the presence of God on mountaintops.  Aren't they afraid of being blown away?  God said to Moses on Sinai that even the priests, who have access to the Lord, must hallow themselves, for fear that the Lord may break out against them.  This is the fear.  It often feels best to lie low, inconspicuous instead of waving your spirit around from high places like a lightning rod.  For if God is in one sense the igniter, a fireball that spins over the ground of continents, God is also in another sense the destroyer, lightning, blind power, impartial as the atmosphere.  Or God is one "G."  You get a comforting sense, in a curved hollow place, of being vulnerable only to a relatively narrow column of God as air."

from, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

That's a powerful image, but it is completely devoid of grace.  The mystic isn't attracted to the mountaintop by some masochistic need to be destroyed but by the power of a grace so dynamic that it is beyond destruction.  Grace changes people.  The person that was on the trip up the mountain is a different person going down the other side.  It is true that in a sense the person who was has been destroyed.  But to focus on the destruction is to miss the glory and the wonder of the transformation.  It is to weep for the caterpillar's loss of form when it emerges from its chrysalis a new creature.

Grace makes you repent.  Grace draws you to a new place and a new understanding.  Annie Dillard found comfort in the small curved hollow at the foot of a sycamore.  God's grace holds you in the curved hollow of His hand. 

Can you stand to read through another quote?  This is part of the lyric to the song I'm so in love with these days:

She spent half her life working hard to be
someone you had to admire
Met the expectations and added something of her own
So proud of all that she had done
(Where was the glory?)
So proud of all that she had not done...
'Til she knelt beneath a wall that will could never scale
There she found the end of herself
Heard her own voice crying for help
And she was

Carried in the arms of love and mercy
Breathing in a second wind
Shining with the light of each new morning
Looking into hope again
Unable to take another step
Finally ready to begin
Born for a second time in a brand new place
Daughter of Grace

We must all depend on grace
Especially me.

It's a Beautiful Day

I am amazed at how MUCH difference it makes to start my day with a full night of sleep.  I was asleep last night by 9 and didn't wake until this morning just before 5.  That may not sound like an impressive achievement, but since I literally cannot remember the last time I slept through the whole night, I'm feeling like I won first prize! 

I woke up with energy, with a clear mind, and with a sense of optimism that's been sorely lacking in my life lately.  I had thought it was likely to come back, no matter what's been happening in my life before, I always get my sense that the world is a wonderful magical place to be back sooner or later.  But it's very hard to remember that during day after day and night after night of dark gray thoughts. 

Already this morning, I've walked on my treadmill (30 minutes, 3 mph, 6% incline ... just enough to get really sweaty before my shower.)  I've balanced the checkbook, fought a dragon and WON - there is a particular company that I've been trying to get to stop a draft against my account for over two months.  They drafted me again.  I really hate when people don't play nice.  I've been trying really hard to play nice with them.  I figured when they drafted my account in January that it was just a problem with the lag time between making the request and having it processed, but come ON!  I didn't fuss about the money from that draft, just contacted them and repeated my request.  They've had time to fix this.  So I called my bank, disputed the charge, and put stop payments against them.  One thing that I'm very pleased with about my bank is that they are agressive in dealing with these things on my behalf.  In the one other similar problem I had over a year ago, I signed a form they sent me already filled in with the information they took in the phone call, and that was that.  I've dealt with the clerk from the Federal Courthouse, the Ford Dealer (I need the thermostat replaced in the van), and I called the attorney and asked that a change be made to my divorce agreement.   It turns out that there was a typo so we were going to have to re-sign the thing anyway, I figured we might as well make it worth the trip.  Oh!  And I'm making plans to take the kids with me when the van goes in for repair because there is an old fashioned pharmacy on the square with a soda fountain and I think it will be a fun treat for them. 

Can you tell I feel better?  You can't see how quickly I'm typing (or how few errors I'm having to correct) but my fingers are flying across the keys.  All from a good night's sleep. 

It is a beautiful day here, the temperature is supposed to be above 50 for the second time this year, the sun is shining, and I saw shoots from my daffodils and tulips coming up outside.  But the only thing that makes today bright where yesterday was gray, is the difference in the way I feel inside.  Does it seem like I've made that point already?

I keep thinking what it must be like to battle depression, day in and day out.  Because unlike my circumstance which has changed so drastically with a few hours of rest, the circumstance that makes the depressed person Depressed doesn't change.  The chemistry of his brain generates a feeling that no amount of will power can shake.  How horrible. 

One of the things I've had to face and deal with over the past six months or so, is the realization of just how much I am (or could be) a slave to my emotions.  I've always seen myself as someone who acts much more based on what I think than how I feel.  But the strength of the emotions I've been experiencing has tossed me about like a bit of flotsam in a stormy sea.  Some of this is good.  If I was the master at thinking rather than feeling, it was at least partly because I was very good at pushing down rather than expressing my emotions.  I didn't realize that I felt so deeply. 

So now I know.   I think, I'll go and think about that some more.

Wishing you all a Happy Friday (my favorite day of the week anyway), a wonderful weekend, and REST.

Shoe Shopping ** With Update

I really like shoes.  I have a dozen pair of black shoes with heels that range from nonexistent to 3.5", I was kind of thinking the addition of some strippy little sandals to my black shoe wardrobe would be nice, so I started looking around.  I like Nine West shoes, I've been there several times over the past month, and I found the sweetest pair of pumps with rounded "baby doll" toes and a little patent leather bow ... well, yeah, I bought 'em, but they weren't the strippy little sandals that I was looking for. 

I've written here before about how our budget works, and one of the divorce conditions is that we keep the same budget until the divorce is final.  So for a few more paycycles, I still have an allowance and no guilt about using it on whatever I want.  I want shoes.  I know, there are other things I could probably use more, but this is what I want.  I want them like the little kid who wants that BB Gun for Christmas.   

I have a friend who's been cautioning me about divorce insanity, and he's right.  There are some really insane things going on in my life and in my thinking.  Ideas that I would never have considered six months ago suddenly seem very reasonable.  I don't think that the divorce is making me selfish, of course, no one ever believes themself to be selfish so I recognize that my barometer may not be reliable in this regard.  I do believe that the divorce has made me re-evaluate the way I think about me, about what I want versus what my family wants.  See, I tend to elevate their wants into the needs category, and I put my wants down in the "maybe later" file.  I was chatting with another friend about assertiveness and she challenged me that instead of being assertive I too often slip over into the self-denying martyr role.  I really don't like the word martyr, but I can recognize when the shoe fits. 

And speaking of shoes, I can't think of a better way to show myself that I'm not a martyr, than to indulge my shoe fantasy.  Okay, I still haven't found the sandals that I'm looking for, but that's okay, there's time.  I surfed over to a site I've been watching for several months and I found that a certain pair of shoes I've been lusting over is On SALE.  And the only size they have left happens to be my size ... coincidence?  Or a sign from God?  Wellllllllllll - what do you think?

The only serious flaw I can imagine to these chocolate brown suede babies, is that I really don't have an appropriate outfit for them.  But they are ON SALE.  I must have them.  Right?  At the bottom of the order form there is that button ... submit or KEEP SHOPPING.  Well, after all, I didn't look at what else was available, I was just checking on these objects of my desire.  Surely it wouldn't hurt to look around ....

Oh, MY.  I did look, and see some amazing things.  And came to another realization.  The lack of an outfit, is no deterent to a woman in a shoe-shopping mood.  I found a second pair - still not the strippy sandals.  I saw this next pair of shoes and well, before I show them to you, some background information is in order.  Several years ago, I was in Virginia visiting Mary.  (Who, BTW, has a new book of poetry available on her website that is a surprising, eclectic collection of poems that cover a wide spectrum of thoughts and topics.  AND if you buy a copy, you not only get the pleasure of her work, you'll be helping to fund the entertainment on my next trip to Virginia which is coming up in four weeks.  - So buy two, okay?) 

While I was visiting with my friend, there was a large group of women who descended upon Washington, DC and attracted enough attention to get themselves featured on the evening news.  Have you heard of this?  They call themselves the Red Hat Society and they get together every so often for lunch.  The only "requirements" are that each lady must wear a red hat and a purple outfit.  They kind of stand out in the crowd.  That's the point, these are women of a "certain age" who tend to be oeverlooked when your eye scans the room.  They are pleasant but nothing in the extremes that get you noticed.  They aren't young enough for hot young babe status, they aren't old enough for the elegant matron role.  Mostly they are recent empty-nesters although women like me who just got started late having babies are welcome even if their nest remains full.  They are just average women who don't want to drift quietly over to the side of the room and leave the floor to others every time.  So on their own comfortable schedule, they don the red hat and the purple outfit, and meet for lunch. 

I have the red hat.  I had a purple outfit although I now need a new one.  I never bought the shoes that would complete it.  See, there's something about wearing a red hat and a purple outfit that demands just the right shoe to fit the attitude, and sadly, shoe manufacturers don't address this market.  But as soon as I saw these shoes ...

Okay, my FIRST thought was, I can't WALK in those.  But my second thought was, wow THERE is attitude.  I've never seen an episode of the Red Shoe Diaries.  I know the premise of the show, women send their diary entries to a man "Red Shoes" and because he has advertised for stories of love, betrayal, sex and loneliness, he receives these vignettes which become the succeeding episodes.  Is it true?  Or did I get this wrong when my friend told me about the show that he reads these stories to his dog?  See that's the touch that I think makes the whole idea really cool.  Anyway, I'm thinking that any woman who owns this pair of shoes, can write a story. 

And from that thought, I was convinced that I MUST have them.  I've been trying and trying to write, and staring at this spot on the wall.  Suddenly these shoes have become a talisman to me.  I don't HAVE to walk in them, I can sit here and WRITE in them.  Except for maybe every so often when I might meet a friend for lunch and I don't want to be seated over at the side of the room.

** Update ... I just received an email from the shoe people informing me that they will be unable to ship the brown shoes because they SOLD OUT.    However, I was offered a 10% discount on any other pair I might wish to order to replace these ....  Oh, what is a girl to DO! 

And I know these heels LOOK really high - some of that is camera angle and the very narrow stiletto.  They are 11 cm which translates to about 4 1/4".  Since I am barely 5 feet tall, I'm looking forward to trying to walk in these.  I'm hoping they will "level" the playing field for me. 

~Waves~

Hi, everybody.  I have not abandoned ship, at least I don't think so (thank you, Bill, for checking)  Here's the deal.  We went into the attorney's office on Friday and signed everything.  We waived our hearing.  So even though it isn't official until the clock ticks down on the mandatory waiting period, for all practical purposes, Tim and I are divorced. 

For some reason, my mind has taken this as an excuse to take the week off.  I keep trying to write a blog, a story, a grocery list ... and I wind up staring at the wall.  So if you'll excuse me for another day or two, I'm going back to studying the paint. 

(Actually, I've been thinking a LOT about Martin Buber's I and Thou.  I'm sure I'm going to want to write something about the thoughts he's inspired - soonly.)

A Crying in the Night Post

Big Day ...

I wonder often exactly when we reached the point of no return.  Was it still possible after we had the "divorce" discussion that we could have turned back the tide?  Could we even at that point have found a way to resolve our differences and remain married to each other?  Or by the time we had the discussion was the marriage already over.  A marriage is a living breathing thing, but unlike a creature with a tangible body, it's difficult to pinpoint the exact moment of death.

Last night my son asked to speak with me.  Since he was being solemn and serious, I sat down and gave him my full attention.  He told me that he had figured out the day that made us have to be divorced.  (My kids include themselves in their description, they say that "we" the family are getting a divorce not "they" the parents.)  Michael believes that the end came on a particular day last July.  He may be right.  It's as good a theory as any.  I too believe that my marriage died many many months ago and that it took working through the grief and shock of it for us to recognize and plan the funeral. 

My attorney contacted me yesterday to let me know that all the paperwork is prepared.  We've had what feels like a long time of negotiation in which we've attempted to consider every practical and legal aspect of the changing relationship between ourselves and to our children.  I reveiwed a dozen other divorce arrangements looking at what seemed to work, and what didn't about the way they were set up.  I consulted with my attorney.  I visited websites.  I'm comfortable that our agreement is the best that we could have given all the various conditions we are working with.

Some of my friends were frustrated as we discussed the process and they asked me about particular details.  They felt that I was making a mistake to be putting so much energy into trying to be fair, that I should instead be trying to get the very best agreement possible for me and to advance my own interests.  I don't ask anyone to understand or approve the choices I've made or the way I've handled things. 

I will explain that even though the marriage is over, I have been in relationship with Tim for seventeen years.  Yesterday was the 17th anniversary of our first date.  He didn't remember the date, but he called just before he left work and said that for some reason it seemed to him that he should invite me and the kids out to dinner.  I think that we still have work to do, but we are making the transition from frustrated spouses to supportive friends much better than I expected.  I give Tim credit for the success of this process.  Last fall, it would be fair to say that I was angry, bitter, resentful, and just more tired than I can now imagine.  I thought that I was willing to put work into learning how to be a friend to this man I could no longer be married to.  But I didn't feel like I had much in the way of emotional energy left to invest.  He has made a tremendous effort to do more than meet me halfway. 

There have been days when the very fact of his efforts has frustrated and angered me.  I've blamed him for not making that effort sooner, for not doing it at a time when it might have made a difference in the outcome.  I'm sure he has moments that he's pinpointed and said to himself "if only she had done ...."  But in the end, there is little value in second guessing, in pretending that if we had done things differently at a particular time it would have made a specific difference in the end.  We don't have that kind of certainty that we can rely upon to beat ourselves with if only because we cannot know that any if only would have made any difference.

.So I'm going this morning to attach my signature to the forms and my attorney will file the divorce today.  I expected that this day would be difficult.  But now that it's here, it's not nearly as traumatic as I'd feared.  We've been grieving the marriage for months.  Opening up that grieving process to include the rituals of court appearances and death certificates is the equivalent of announcing a memorial service some months after the death of a soldier.  Most people close to us already know, a few will be finding out when the announcement hits the paper.  We are already shuffling through the awkward moments and the tongue-tied attempts of people who feel they should say something. 

I have made my decision about where the kids and I will move at least for the summer.  We were out on Saturday and I kept noticing that the later in the day it got, the more agitated Michael became.  He wanted to be HOME by dark.  He needs security and structure.  His biggest concern has been for how we would handle the physical changes of location and whether he would still have his things nearby.  Over the past three years, I've spent so much time in Arkansas with my parents that my kids feel that place is as familiar as this one, and in some ways they are more at home there.  With a lot of extended family and cousins their age, they move into that environment with a sigh of relief every time we go. 

I'm not very confident that I will be able to find a job in that area that will support me.  But at least if I go there, I have people in place who are ready and willing to help care for my kids in a place they are comfortable if I have to travel to find employment.  Having that decision made eases a huge part of the stress I've been living with for the past four months.  I had set up this scene in my mind that I NEEDED to have a job NOW.  That I needed to be saving up enough money that come June I could comfortably pay for a move across country to some vague place where I would have already visited, interviewed, and have a position lined up and an apartment waiting.  But in fact, I don't need that.  I need to put my things in storage.  I need time to focus on my kids and building us into a tighter unit.  They are kids, I don't expect them to take on adult responsibility, but I want them to know that we are a family and that means that I'm counting on them as much as they are counting on me. 

Okay - I'm rambling.  So I'll stop here and let you all know again that I appreciate your prayers and your support.  I've received far more than I ever expected and certainly more than I have earned in the way of friendship and loving concern.  Thank you for the grace you've extended.  Your touch on my heart has been a source of healing and strength.

Baby Pix

My family maintains a website where occasionally my Dad posts photos.  This morning I woke up to find that I was the photo of the day.    So hey, I might as well post it here so EVERYONE can see what Baby Terri looked like.  The rumor is that I was fascinated by my Great Aunt Glady's wig so she let me try it on.   I'm impressed by the red tights - I was stylish. 

At the Oddest Moments ...

My cell phone rings.  It's always interesting who calls me at what time.  Tonight my sister, Sam called.  She had a bad day, it was a long story, but the bottom line was that she needed to be cheered up and she wanted me to tell her a joke.  I'm not sure why she called me.  I only know one joke.  I think I used to know a second one, but I can't remember now what it might have been, so maybe I'm wrong about that. 

Anyway, it's kind of cool that I got to bring out my joke and make her laugh. 

Every now and then, I crack myself up.  This is one of my favorite posts ever and it's been over a year since I posted it here.  So if you remember it, please pretend like it's fresh ...

Diversions of the Echo Club

This club attempts to make better that which has already been done. On the occasion of the writing of the following gems, each member chose the style of his or her favorite poet to rework the ideas made famous by Mr. Gelett Burgess (who’s original poem appears last.)  I wrote two of these - can you tell which?

In the style of John Milton

 Job Searching ...

That's me this week.  I'm out searching for a job, any job.  I'm applying for anything that I can find that I have even the faintest hope of ability to perform.  I spent yesterday talking with people at a temp agency about positions they had listed.  This morning I have an interview at 10:00 for another position with a company in Louisville. 

I think that about everyone knows that my life has undergone serious upheaval and we haven't even gotten to the part where I have to pack up everything I own and move.  I am trying to blog regularly, but I'm falling further and further behind in reading and commenting on your sites.  I believe this too shall pass and I will at some point in the future return to my habit of wokring to maintain the Xanga connections that have supported me so well during this season of change.  I learned recently that my failure to comment had at least one person convinced that I was upset with her.  So I'm making my general explanation here because I want you all to know that I'm not being ugly to you in particular - I am equally neglecting everyone. 

Thank you for sticking with me while I sort out my life.  I'll be honest, the wisdom of Xanga is that if you stop commenting you lose subscribers.  But in the six weeks that I have been pretty much absent from your comments section - I've only lost about 6 subscribers from my total.  I have no idea who they are, I do peek at the number, but I don't look any further than that because I don't want to let myself worry over whether or not I've offended people.  I can't take that pressure. 

Wish me luck!  You know the very very best would be some entry level position where I just need to answer the phone and have access to the internet so I can get caught up with my reading and commenting while I'm on someone's clock ... surely someone out there would pay me to bring my happy face to their receoption area every day just for my smile.    Then you would be a part of my success by the way that you bring that smile to my face while I'm reading.  We'd be a team!