Archives for July 2009

I’ve talked before about my issues.

While I have many scapegoats to blame those on (don’t worry, I’m not naming names…today anyway)…for the sake of time, I’m just going to focus on one today.

We’ll start with guilt trips.

You know, as familiar as I am with guilt trips, I have to say, I don’t love them.

I also have to say, since I’m being honest here, that it would be quite nice if I didn’t constantly feel like I have to say, “Look at me! Look at what I did! Remember this hobby of mine? Ya, I really enjoy it, and shouldn’t you be interested in it if only for that reason? Oh, you lost the website address….again?”

It’s tough having someone like this in your life. It’s tough trying so hard to be enough, but never quite measuring up. It’s really tough paying for the therapy that comes it all.

Kidding. I’m not in therapy. At the moment anyway.

Now, I don’t know if any of you are lucky enough to have such a person around…but I’m guessing with the mental stability of most people out there…you have at least one. And you might just be as humbled as I am because of it.

See, there is a silver lining in everything. We children of guilt trips, we’re humble folks, aren’t we?

When I got married, it was amazing to have someone who didn’t make me feel bad in the moments when I didn’t measure up.

When I made a mistake, or hurt his feelings, strangely the world didn’t come to a stop.

And I came to realize, I didn’t need to belittle myself anymore in hopes that it would stop him from doing it first. I didn’t need to, because there was no belittling.

There was no competition.

There was no guilt.

There was only love and acceptance.

He revels in my accomplishments, he takes pride in my work. Even though, most times, I have to say, “Aren’t you so proud of me?”

To which he responds sincerely, “Oh yes, baby, I totally am.”

(I’m needy, I admit it. Why do you think I have a blog?)

How I was able to make such a mature decision in choosing someone to love forever at such a young age, is beyond me. But, I am so thankful for him and the others in my life who have been more influential than even therapy could have achieved.

But, alas, I’m still me. I’m still slightly a product of my past, touched by events and people, good and bad.

I just have to remember…it’s not about them. I am outside of their dysfunction. I have to do the things I love for me. Not for anybody else.

If they notice, if they love it as well…that’s just a bonus.

If they don’t, at least I’m happy.

And poof…I just cured us all from the guilt trippers in our life.

Your welcome.

(And tomorrow, we will not be so heavy. I promise to lighten the load!)

© 2009 “Le Musings of Moi”

I’ve shared before that I am a classic case middle child. Most of my life, I was like, HEY! WHAT ABOUT ME! And then I had actions to go with it.

As an adult…I am starting to figure out just a little that, woah mama! Stop the bus….you mean, it really isn’t all about me?!?

Anyway, I just recently read something pretty profound and I wanted to share. I guess I thought it would be good Sunday reading.

My Struggles are About Him

by Max Lucado

What about your struggles? Is there any chance, any possibility, that you have been selected to struggle for God’s glory? Have you “been granted for Christ’s sake, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake” (Philippians 1:29)?

Here is a clue. Do your prayers seem to be unanswered? What you request and what you receive aren’t matching up? Don’t think God is not listening. Indeed he is. He may have higher plans.

Here is another. Are people strengthened by your struggles? A friend of mine can answer yes. His cancer was consuming more than his body; it was eating away at his faith. Unanswered petitions perplexed him. Well-meaning Christians confused him. “If you have faith,” they said, “you will be healed.”

No healing came. Just more chemo, nausea, and questions. He assumed the fault was a small faith. I suggested another answer. “It’s not about you,” I told him. “Your hospital room is a showcase for your Maker. Your faith in the face of suffering cranks up the volume of God’s song.”

Oh, that you could have seen the relief on his face. To know that he hadn’t failed God and God hadn’t failed him–this made all the difference. Seeing his sickness in the scope of God’s sovereign plan gave his condition a sense of dignity. He accepted his cancer as an assignment from heaven: a missionary to the cancer ward.

A week later I saw him again. “I reflected God,” he said, smiling through a thin face, “to the nurse, the doctors, my friends. Who knows who needed to see God, but I did my best to make him seen.”

Bingo. His cancer paraded the power of Jesus down the Main Street of his world.

God will use whatever he wants to display his glory. Heavens and stars. History and nations. People and problems.

Rather than begrudge your problem, explore it. Ponder it. And most of all, use it. Use it to the glory of God.

Through your problems and mine, may God be seen.

From

It’s Not About Me

© (Thomas Nelson, 2007),

Max Lucado

© 2009 “Le Musings of Moi”

Watch out!

This is now my second blog post for Momversation.com!

Go check it out, it’s all about curing separation anxiety.

© 2009 “Le Musings of Moi”

I love musicals.

Love them like a piece of chocolate cake with fudge icing. When I sit in a theatre, or in front of a movie screen, and life is put to song and dance, I feel giddy like a teenager with her first crush.

You know how t.v. shows always begin with a theme song, and then with each cast member their names are shown and the camera closes in on catching them in a frivolous act, and suddenly they stop and smile? So, when I was little, I thought maybe, just maybe there was a t.v. show about my life somewhere in the world, so every once in awhile I would stop and smile. At the invisible camera catching me while I brushed my teeth.

Even at a young age, I knew, life should always happen to a song.

As an adult, not much has changed. I mean, I do now know that I am not part of a secret tv show being filmed, but I do still think my life should not be without a song and dance attached.

My husband has learned this about me, and has even begun to submit to my ways.

For example….I’m trying to decide what to eat for dinner. I begin to hum a little diddy…

“I’m so hungry…oh so hungry….life is so hard when I don’t know what to eat….

What, oh what should I be eating? I’m so hungry, life is hard…”

And then if I’m really into the moment, jazz hands get thrown in, and I sing it in falsetto and hope Jimmy will join in. It took some time, but now he does. Although, in case his friends are reading…not really. But really, he does.

“I don’t know Summer, I don’t know Summer, I don’t know what tell you to eat. Please relax though, just relax though, life is hard when you are hungry…”

Whatever, it’s weird. I know.

But, since I don’t have Broadway knocking on my door, I have to use my talent somehow.

Another way I make my life a musical is in the car, where I keep my collection of broadway show tunes. When I pop Chicago in the player, I become Roxy Hart. And I am not kidding. I am really Roxy Hart. I’ve even had people pull up next to me and mouth, “Roxy? Is that you?”

And I shake my head in complete modesty, and say, “No no, but your not the first to make that mistake.”

One last way I make life a musical in in the moments that call for a well known song. You know where somebody unknowingly says a line like, “Please, don’t go.” And you can’t help (by you I mean me) but belt out, “Please don’t go girrrrrllllll….”

Ya, so I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this other than I thought why not share some totally and utterly weird and embarrasing about myself.

So, there you go. Mock me…just make sure to do it in song.

In case you are wondering what goes through my mind while I watch The Bachelorette, here are just a few from last night…

***

Reasons why Jillian bugs me:

Reason #1 – She draws a heart in the sand with her initial and a question mark.

Reason #2: She asks questions to herself in interviews and answers them. (Thanks to Malia for pointing this out!)

Such as: “Is it okay that he’s a jerk, no. Do I still like him, yes. Is it annoying that I ask questions simply to answer them myself, yes.”

I’m just wondering…is Reid not good at expressing his feelings? Because he’s only mentioned it 100k times.

And why are they constantly shoving food in their mouths in the midst of deep talks?

Did Ed forget his swim trunks and have to borrow Jillians instead?

Wait, hang on.

I need to cue the teeny tiny violin players…

Okay, I’m ready now.

Somehow, in the dead of summer, I am sick. Maybe it’s the fact that I just flew on an airplane which is a pricey way of ensuring you get the latest bug, or maybe it’s that I have two kids who also happen to be a pricey way of ensuring you get the latest bug….either way, I got it, and I’m not loving it.

I’m not the kind of girl who sucks it up and goes on with life. Oh no, I’m the middle child, the one who needs attention because all my life I was lost and forgotten. Therefore, my hand has been permanently attached to my forehead in a woe is me sort of way, and I have been tweeting my symptoms every ten minutes just in case people are keeping track. And I’m pretty sure they are.

So, here I lie on my bed of death, surrounded by tissues for snot, a computer for complaining, and a cell phone for those who are willing to be at my beck and call.

Yet, for you, my dear readers, I forced myself to pull it together. For you, I was willing to cheat death by cold, and write. Because on the chance that today is my last day to live, (can people die of a cold?), then I want you to remember that I loved you all.

Or something like that.

Okay, not sure if these tears streaming down my cheeks are from the cold of death or from the emotions of that song….regardless…it’s a clear sign I’m losing my clarity of thought, and I should go and rest my weary head.

© 2009 “Le Musings of Moi”

I have a dream to be a regular on Momversation.com videos…but in the meantime, I’ll accept the task of writing articles for their blog.