Going Home.

My family is out of town this week for vacation. At a beach. On the eastern seaboard. Having loads of fun.

Jealous?

You'd better believe it.

I decided on Wednesday to run down to the farm to give Caleb a little mid-week support (with 11 horses, a Great Dane, Jacks ( Jax, or Jack), and 5 cats (apparently some of them went to God's Great Litter Box in the sky before the Parents went to God's Luxury Litter Box for Kitties on this earth- not that they actually went to a giant cat-poo location for vacation-- yee, sounds gross.. "So, where'd the 'rents go for vacation?" "Oh, the litter box" Right. I'm done) .

So I left work at 6 and did not arrive in B until 9:15. The drive is an hour, max. 15 minutes from home I decided to take Sweet B for a trip down one of the twistiest roads in Fairfield county, the strip of 664 that runs from West Rushville to Logan. The B was looking B-utiful and (hey! license plate name!) a car that red, shiny, sporty, and vintage must be on a road that curvy. So I head down Coonpath and as I get closer to my Aunt and Uncle's place, I decide to pull in and give a quick "Hello! Just in the neighborhood" visit.

(side note: this route takes me past my grandfather's old house- it just sold- and THEY'VE STUCK THE MOST-OBSCENELY OUT-OF-PLACE-UGLY-BEYOND-IMAGINATION barn RIGHT SMACK DAB NEXT TO THE HOUSE! It is a grotesque piece of architecture (FAT ol' pole barn next to a classic cape cod with cedar siding and large front porch. Despicable. It makes me tremble with rage. I need to stop, I'm starting to see spots... blast it, it's UGLY. It's so u-g-l-y, it ain't got an alibi, it's ugly. But really, it is. It makes me want to throw up. Oh the abominable structure. YUCK!))

Grr, I'm still so angry! Must move on. Food. Family. Right. So I zip into the Aunt and Uncle's and pop in for a quick hello. Which turns into dinner and a long discussion on whether or not Josh and I are extroverted, introverted (which we are), or just verted. I'm mostly verted. We also discussed various family members and had a great old time just staring out over the pond and weeping willows, chatting about our families.

So the B and I head home, roaring around the bends, flying past the cornfields, whizzing by the herds of cattle. As we crawl up the long hill of the long driveway (no racing up gravel driveways for my B), I heard a faint "HEY!" come from above. "God? Look, I know I was speeding and I know I got mad at that driver on 33 but.." oh wait, Caleb!

Turns out 'Vanna had escaped and Caleb and Jacks were on the hunt. I put the B in reverse and we start to make our way down the driveway, heading back to the road when out of the corner of my eye, a giant black and white monster comes hurtling towards the B. It's "The 'Vanna." She comes galloping up to the B and in a moment of self-preservation, instinct calling to catch the animal, and B preservation, I stuck my arm out and latch on to her collar. Well then Jacks in my lap is growling at 'Vanna for the intrusion into his territory (I'm his territory) and 'Vanna is slobbering to beat Beethoven, and I'm screeching at her to stay off my car and for Caleb to get out of it. Except Caleb's never exited the car and so he has no idea how to pull the handle. So there I am, one hand holding Jacks, one hand desperately trying to cling to 'Vanna, hurling violent threats of dismemberment towards her and yet trying to calmly instruct Caleb to "PULL THE BLACK THING, NO, THE OTHER BLACK THING! GET HER, SHE'S GOING TO KILL MY CAR! BACK UP 'VANNA BEFORE I HURT YOU! NO NOW PULL NO NOT THAT ONE, PULL THE..." and then he got it and whipped out and around to save my B from 'Vanna's claws, literally. She put her two front paws on the B and I nearly kicked her face in, except I had forgotten to put the B in neutral and had both feet on the clutch and brake. After 'Vanna is under control, Jacks and I oh so gracefully make our way up the rest of the drive. Jacks is the perfect dog for my car. Jacks is to my car what my car is to curvy roads.

More to come...

Two of Me.

Last night I had another one of my wedding dreams. In every wedding dream I've ever remembered (I would say about 5+-), in the dream it never fails that I am never present during the ceremony. I walk up the aisle, either tell the groom "Nope, not doing it" or I blank out during the ceremony and arrive back in my body afterwards. I never know if I married the groom or not, although I always lean on the side of not being married, so as not to spend my wedding night with someone who is not my husband. Not once do I say "well, maybe I am married!" and move into a life with the groom (although in one dream I did as I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had married him-- I really wanted to be his wife).

Last night I dreamed the wedding dream, only this time there were two of me- one to make sure all went well with the wedding (say that 5x fast!) and another to be in the wedding. Which body did my mind elect to stay with? Apparently not the one in the ceremony because I had to ask the groom afterwards how it went! For some reason I think I stuck with the "wedding planner body" as some table cloths needed sewing! All I remember is coming up to the groom afterwards and wondering how I handled it and if everything went smooth. The funny thing is I dislike immensely weddings that are a production, so why in the world, when given the option, would I have stayed with the "wedding planner body"?

As my wedding dreams go though, the emphasis on the actual ceremony has become more and more heightened. There are no details covered in the wedding and I dream of nothing pertaining to the wedding except for the very minutes before and during the walk down the aisle. Very briefly do I dream of the reception (many times I'm sitting around a table with the whole family and quietly trying to determine whether or not I am married [quietly so I don't embarrass myself for not knowing]) Also, I never like my dress. This past one had very little attention was given it by me, so possibly the dress was attractive.

Why were there two of me?
Why did I opt for the body running around tying up the loose ends? (i.e: avoiding the ceremony?)
How is it that in every wedding dream, I am never ever there for the actual ceremony?!
Why, for the past 8 years, have my dreams centered so specifically on a wedding?

The built-in investigator wonders what is it that needs attention and healing.
The Spirit inside me must be telling me I need to address something, something in me needs looked over, otherwise I would not continue to dream the same dreams with the same scene running over and over.

I am trying to remember in my dreams to force myself to be mentally aware during the ceremony. I want to ask myself in the dream why I am so eager or willing to avoid it; there is hope that while in the dream state I can answer these questions.

Screech I am not.

Confirmation: I am not a full fledged nerd. This has been disputed at various points in my life but I am here to tell you, I am not a bonafide nerd.




Booyah.

Blocked from Blogging

I haven't posted in quite awhile. It's slightly ironic that I check others' posts frequently and when they haven't posted, I get a little antsy, "Sheesh, come on, it wouldn't hurt you to post every now and then!" yet if I don't post for a month, so what?! I expect to have something new to read every morning; this is assuming however, that people actually read this post and I'm not blogging to a readerless blogging cosmos.

I certainly assume a lot by putting up a post:

• That what I'm putting up is worth even reading,
  
• that there are people who stumble upon this post and stay long to read these random thoughts,
  
• and that people actually find it interesting enough to come back to and stay "in the loop" with whatever is going on in my life (when I actually do post something about my life).
  

Why am I posting?

Better yet, since I really shouldn't care whether or not people read because it is for me, not them, why haven't I posted in so long? And not just a random historical rant, "My Utmost for His Highest" daily devotional post, or news blurb; I wonder what is going on within that has me blocked from blogging about me.

My Utmost- July 9

July 9th.
	THE GREAT PROBING
"Ye cannot serve the Lord." Joshua 24:19 Have you the slightest reliance on anything other than God? Is there a remnant of reliance left on any natural virtue, any set of circumstances? Are you relying on yourself in any particular in this new proposition which God has put before you? That is what the probing means. It is quite true to say - "I cannot live a holy life," but you can decide to let Jesus Christ make you holy. "Ye cannot serve the Lord God"; but you can put yourself in the place where God's almighty power will come through you. Are you sufficiently right with God to expect Him to manifest His wonderful life in you? "Nay, but we will serve the Lord." It is not an impulse, but a deliberate commitment. You say - But God can never have called me to this, I am too unworthy, it can't mean me. It does mean you, and the weaker and feebler you are, the better. The one who has something to trust in is the last one to come anywhere near saying - "I will serve the Lord." We say - "If I really could believe!" The point is - If I really will believe. No wonder Jesus Christ lays such emphasis on the sin of unbelief. "And He did not many mighty works there because of their unbelief." If we really believed that God meant what He said - what should we be like! Dare I really let God be to me all that He says He will be?

Tiny Warrior

This little boy is my kinda big brother. Bravissimo bambino!

He'll have something heroic to carry around all his life, that is priceless; he's a true defender. Can you imagine having done something so brave while so young? I hope he remembers this and carries it humbly and proudly at the same time his entire life. I pray he is entitled to carry it and does not abuse the honor; may he grow up a noble and integrity-filled youth.

Incredulous Bystander

This is so ridiculous. Unfair, uncalled for, diabolical, and I'm outraged. I feel like the tourist on the bus driving through Yellowstone who can only comment on the enormity of it all.


What am I going to do?

The price paid.

What is the cost of freedom?

Is the price paid worth it?

Why is it that I look around and feel guilty to be an American... ashamed at all that I have, embarrassed to admit I have it. I have it all. I'm living on stolen land, living a stolen life, preparing for a future that, by basic human rights, should not be mine.

I have nothing to be proud of, everything to be ashamed of, and so much for which I will never be thankful enough.

I enter this July 4th wondering if I will join the masses emblazoned in the red, white, and blue. Pieces of me want to paint it all over my body and display these mighty colors for all to see. The other pieces want me to quietly offer up my thanks and duck my head in shame for all that we as "Patriots" have done.

What right have I to be a proud American?

I am so confused. Do I gather the beautiful banner and wrap her around me, relishing in the glory and the pain and the triumph that is our history and future? I cannot be ungrateful towards all those that have fought, suffered, and died so that my life may exist. I realize that part of what they fought for was the right for me to air this question out and allow it space within me. I cannot say, "Thanks... but no thanks."

Can I really be honestly proud to be an American? Can I dare not to? Do I separate myself from the masses who would blindly and wantonly wear these universally known colors and think that my thankfulness is much deeper and more sincere than theirs?

This is almost parallel to how I feel about mainstream Christianity and my honest desire to know Christ and be known for loving and following him- without hating/despising/looking down on all others in utter ignorance.

Corn-fed (by that I mean hear it and believe it and then speak it)Christians (funny they're all Americans--except for that crazy "I am the new Christ" South American or Mexican) make me so angry! They only believe because they've listened and they only speak that which they've heard or read from mainstream sold-out-for-celebrity-status Christian authors. Where is the "real" Christianity? It's really not that much work to seek and find and question until you do. Put some elbow grease into it people.

I'll clean this all up later. Thanks for letting me vent.