Baby Countdown Jitters.

I feel everywhere on the board when it comes to meeting this sweet little bundle.

I have honestly spent more time today trying to figure out if I want a Beco Baby Carrier or a Boba Baby Carrier today then just being.
Thats okay.
I know it comes from the passion inside me that sits, twisted, but freaking beautiful. Honestly, I don't really know what you will be like. My mind can't quite grip the idea of you, a real human creation that sits in my belly, a skin, and uterus layer, away from the outside world.

What will it be like to be a mommy to this new nugget and be the mommy to my other precious child?

I don't know. But I do feel pretty certain that once I have a baby carrier heaven will have arrived on earth.

What will it be like to finish school and move towards my dreams. But, what would it look like to be, here, present and engaged with what is right in front of me. With my sweet girl laying on the concrete pointing with her finger at the ants crawling and with my sweet girl while she is having a tantrum and hitting me as I tell her she can not stand in the shopping cart at Target. What would it look like to be there, in those moments?

I think it looks like exactly what I am doing now, baby carrier contemplating and all. Because I am certain that our Father is looking down at me sort of smiling. No disappointment, just saying,

"Yeah girl!" And beckoning me and enticing me towards sweet love.

There is no shame.


I want to sit behind my self-protective pretenses, in whatever form they take shape.

Today a baby carrier tomorrow, maybe the baby monitors I still need? ha.

But honestly, I can tell you I am nervous. I don't know what mothering two will look like and I want to do it perfectly.
Because the alternative would be depending on God and part of my soul is desperate for anything but creating my own salvation.

Oh, Jesus. I know I am not crazy. I also am not as shaken by these illegal things as I once was. There is hope, there, but also just deeper and new layers that I uncover that this side of heaven are not going to subside. Would you soften those layers that want to harden and stay on. Would you expose those and give me wisdom on how to and when to speak?
Here I sit.

Red dot.

Larry Crab calls it your red dot.
 I guess you can say I'm still into him. I trust my father-in-law.
Who I know trusts Larry.
Which makes me feel like he's a safe guy to unpack christianity and the internal and spiritual world. And I happen to find that as my heart catches up to my head, the stuff he unpacks about these realities, really is the stuff Jesus talks about.

So, that red dot. Its what you see going on internally, presently, NOW.
Maybe it happens to be descriptors and information about the stuff going on, but he beckons a deeper look at what is beneath that.
I still like descriptors. Processing brings me to that Red Dot. So here are my attached strings, my spiral, my junk that will maybe bring me there.

I'm snuggled into Rand's comfortable sweats and a sweatshirt because I feel really uncomfortable. I feel like I wear them in part because yes, they still are comfortable and I'm cold, but also to mask the internal realities that I am feeling.

Part of me feels not valuable in this comfort because I feel insecure about how my appearance. It feels like there is a club of the "cute pregnant lady" that I shift in and out of wanting to be a part of and that jostle's that insecurity. I feel like I am looked upon more highly when I strap on my competition mask, which often takes on the form of (sometimes) incredibly uncomfortable, tight fitting clothing that boasts my bump, but suffocates my already limited breathing space.

Another seems to be shame.
I feel like I should be more active and I am ashamed that I am not. Talk about intermixed passions. I happen to love exercise. Since about 25 weeks pregnancy has been incredibly difficult for me and I feel worn down.

But I feel like that is just an excuse and thats where the harshness seems to jump out.
I get that it's not all or nothing. Work out everyday or don't ever, but the gray is difficult for me to navigate admist the rollercoaster of transitions I feel between parenting a 1.5 year old and the babe in my belly. It leaves me worn down and not ready to enter the junk that surfaces when I excercise.
I guess I'm just not a big enough person right now.

That spirals me into another.
My head goes to. Well if your not a big enough person to exercise right now, how the hell are you going to be able to delivery a baby naturally.
I've got no armor against that one and it is likely 3/4 of what prompted me doing Yoga this morning.
And to try and find the perfect words for my birth plan.
And to try and suck Rand into it all.

Which is half of what brought me into a low and meltdown yesterday evening.
Don't get me wrong, 10 hours with your 1.5 year old is never all rainbows and butterflies.
Nor is not getting an opportunity to connect with you husband at the start of your week or sort through conflict.
But it felt like there was more beneath that. That those things were just the lava coming out of the real volcano.
In that moment I desperately needed my cocaine, people, because I did not feel okay. Nor did I want to give myself room to cry, I wanted to fight, victimize myself and pull someone else into my misery.
Part of me felt shame over this because my head even knew what I was doing.
All the harsh words sat on the tip of my tongue, a few escaping before I was able to give myself space.
Ironically, space for me typically looks like the back corner of my bedroom closet, where it is dark and I feel safe, so there I went.

I let the pain out, releasing it, as my heart so desperately needed. The wound of feeling rejecting over the past few days flowing out with the tears.

So I think thats where my red dot was at. I felt rejection and it hurt, lots.

Ironically, I felt able to rejoin my family in the basement. Sitting in silence initially and then playing with them and a zillion little plastic balls when I felt able. I feel like my heart got to feel the release there.

Its funny. I started writing this Wednesday. As I finish it I'm reminded of the roller coaster that my heart can sometime feel it is on.
Little Ellie got a mosquito bite on her eye lid that swelled up like a baseball bat. She doesn't react too well to bites just like her momma. I'm just beginning to digest and catch up to where my heart, and red dot, has been there.

So cheers to blog writing, my fall candle, jug of water, fresh grapes, digesting handful of fall colored m&m's and to finding a warm soup recipe on pinterest.

Happy Friday.

Prickly porcupine.

I've been reflecting a bit lately. Today, as I was sweeping the patio, it struck me how at peace I felt. My day had no agenda outside of a doctor appointment and I was completely okay with that.

NO. Even past okay. I was enjoying it. Seriously.

I was savoring watching Ellie play with her stroller.
Struck by the beautiful weather.
And was even dreaming about what I was going to bake next.
This was after a content time of putting away dishes even...

Over lunch I began to put words to this peace with Rand and I wanted to, again, process through where I feel I am.

It began when I started counseling.
At first it had just been our premarital counseling.
Then, after Rand's dad had mentioned he thinks that it is helpful for couples to have "routine maintenance" done, it continued.
Then, Rand's dad mentioned to me this group he has all his employees go through on codependency and I thought, eh, why not? I laugh now because honestly it could have been a cult and I would've trusted him and gone. I had no idea what codependent meant, really.
Then I started to go to my own individual sessions once a month.

Something awakened in my heart. My soul, really.
And HOLY HELL, did the beast get unleashed, which I now commonly refer to as the F*** you woman.
That woman was so incredibly angry. It was like an explosion, really. I had botteled up all of my emotions for so long, not really allowing myself to truly feel the emotions life brings us through like anger, saddness, and even happyness. I had been spinning in the same circle for so long. It had to come out, really. But it had been bottled up for so long that it was like a tea kettle that had been simmering and simmering and then finally let to steam out. That loud ass whistle that you hear when that water is done seems octives quieter than how my soul felt.

So there I was, this angry, bitter woman. For the wrong that had been to me and that I had done to myself. I sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen to me again.

Up the walls came. With spikes on the end and grenades waiting past those. I was not going to be hurt again.
I was so incredibly defensive. On edge, still am at times, honestly. I wouldn't let most people in. There was an incredibly small VIP list and more often then not those people didn't even make the cut.
But a small few stuck around, including my husband, and especially my counselor, Marna.
I was laughing, near tears, about this one on monday night. I was the biggest damn porcupine in the whole country and I had no idea why I felt so alone. Most people don't like to be around porcupines, their thorns hurt. I'm grateful for the few that stuck by me in that mess. There love for me brings me tears, as I type now.
They didn't punish me.
They didn't play games with me.
They let me be and still tried to love me the best they could in that.

My soul learned the love Jesus talks about in that time. Like it tasted it.

I've hurt many in that part of my journey.
The accuser, so quick to judge, so stark and harsh to myself and others.
My husband.
My parents.
My sisters.
My in-laws.
My friends.

I feel sadness and sorrow for that, tears are filling my eyes now.
But I know that that part of my journey is what gave me a taste of true life.

For so long the mountains and valleys have felt so high and so low and so on top of each other.
But I notice, they aren't as high and low, faster to work through, and more few and far between.

I'm still an attict. An approval seeker. A perfectionist.
But I'm in withdrawl.
Often, I want to give in to my version of cocaine.
That voice that tells me I have to get my finances figured out before I can go to Target.
That I need approval from my husband to buy clothes that fit my growing body.
That voice that says what a true friend should look like to numb out the silence that sits.

But. Eh. Maybe fixing all that isn't even really the point?

A little bit of Larry.

I may have mentioned this before, but I don't often finish things.

The last episode of the Office still has yet to be watched. 

Prison Break's last few episodes are unplayed. 

And I have started, stopped, paged through and skipped over countless textbooks, fiction, and nonfiction novels alike. 

Maybe one day it will change, but for right now, I don't feel the urge to finish, and I don't like library late fees...

I find it doesn't take me very far, especially in authors like Larry Crabb, to relate to what I am reading. Its not a bunch of bull shit, try harder, figure out the right choice and make it, legalistic vomit, it truly engages the human soul and beckons an honest questioning of what realities are occurring internally. 

And that, that is stuff I will read. I'm really not all that into trying to walk the moralistic line that can often be heard at your sunday service. If that makes me a radical, well. okay. I'm in. 

Before I share the part of Larry's Book that struck me, I want to share a bit of my brokeness.

I think I know things. Like the head knowledge of my years in counseling have taught me things about the human heart, condition and reality. The truth is, they have, but primarily about my own condition. A condition that others have, but whose stories are different.  Something in me really thinks I have this thing figured out. I really do judge people.  

I saw it in it's starkness the other day as Rand and I were entering the mall. We were having a conversation about some people he knows. Audibly spoken or not to Rand, I had judged the people we had spoken of based on how they were living. The word's Rand spoke, I don't even think he knew at the time were speaking straight to those thoughts. Not in a rub it in your face, see your junk type of way. But truly in a gentle, humbling, way that pulled tears from my eyes as I saw in clarity my sin. 

What broke my heart about my sin is that I really have no idea. I think that I know what goes on. I think that I can mind-read and know heart motivations, but I don't. Not fully.  

So there we were at the mall. Something in my heart really longs to listen, to hear, to trust, to be hurt, to forgive. What I do know is that same judgement that is cast on others is how my heart truly feels about myself. It's that same harsh, controlling woman that is there. Repentence is where I long to sit, lie, and bathe in.

Fast forward to church on Sunday where we were singing "Man of Sorrows"

http://youtu.be/s7ZJ5D5q54g.

VERSE 4

Sent of heaven God's own Son

To purchase and redeem

And reconcile the very ones

Who nailed Him to that tree

CHORUS

Oh that rugged cross my salvation

Where Your love poured out over me

Now my soul cries out Hallelujah

Praise and honour unto Thee

BRIDGE

Now my debt is paid

It is paid in full

By the precious blood

That my Jesus spilled

Now the curse of sin

Has no hold on me

Whom the Son sets free

Oh is free indeed

And I couldn't keep the tears back in my eyes, still can't now listening to it again. 

My sin is so stark. My judgment so quick and bitter. 

The fourth verse's words, the chorus, and the bridge I will share.

My heart is starting to catch up with my head.
I know my debt is paid by the precious blood of Jesus. The curse of sin doesn't have a hold on me any longer and I am free. Redemption through that Mercy. mhmm

Free to fail.

Free to be honest with myself and others.

Free to repent. or not.

Free to experience a love that knows not the ways of brokeness.

That is the type of love I want to sprint towards. That is the kind of love I want to lavish in and give myself over to.

Fast forward to the sermon part of the service now. I wasn't big enough to stay present with it, so I pulled out Larry. This was actually the part of my blog that I had intended to process through, but I'm not sure if that is the point anymore. I'll share anyway from the beginning of Chapter 2:

"We need each other, never more than when we are most broken. But brokeness is not a disease, like cancer, that may or may not develop. Brokenness is a condition, one that is always there, inside, beneath the surface, carefully hidden for as long as we can keep a facade in place. We live in brokenness. We just don't always see it, either in ourselves or in others. 

A central task of community is to create a place that is safe enough for the walls to be torn down, safe enough for each of us to own and reveal our brokeness. Only then can the power of connecting do its job. Only then can community be used of God to restore our souls.

When we turn our chairs to face each other, the first things we see is a terrible fact: We're all struggling. Beneath the surface of every personality--- even the one that seems most "together"--a spiritual battle is raging that will only be won with the help of community. Think with me about the nature of that battle and what kind of community might help."

When I read that in retrospeck of my sin, I'm struck by the normalacy of it. The normalacy however cannot mask the ugliness, but it reminds me that it is always there, always operating under the surface. 

But.

What if it was more about it's reveal then the actual sin. What if my marriage was full of the same type of restoration Larry describes and the one offered by Jesus in the song above.

I want to live in that type of community, but it terrifies me. But, whether I choose to or not, the truth is still the same. We really are still struggling. The war is raging. Guns are drawn. 

The healing can occur, it will occur. I've tasted it. I still taste it. But the risk is real. Man of Sorrows speaks of it in its other verses. Betrayl. Sorrow. 

But freedom too. True freedom. 

I don't want to keep my facade on. but i do. but i don't. 

I long to take my mask off with my husband. ellie. this babe. my family. friends. 

I long to show them mercy with the same gentleness I tasted this weekend at the mall. My heart is actually started to desire that more then my head. And that sort of change I cannot amount to my hand. 

7/29/14

Well. I have noticed my heart feeling adrift these past two days. It grates at me that I don't know where its coming from, that I am human and that doing the best I can doesn't come close to my standards.

I want to process where I feel like the harshness is coming from.

As I speak my child is crying because she doesn't want to nap. I should know how to calm her down, the voice says. It judges my parenting ability and I am left feeling insecure or wanting to perform as a mother.

Yesterday, I enjoyed a delightful binge watching my new favorite Netflix show, Orange is the New Black and escaping in the conclusion of the bachelorette. What a waste of time, the voice says. It whispers accusatory claims like "your lazy" and "you shouldn't have enjoyed yourself so much".

Yesterday, I also enjoyed a splendid amount of my favorite licorice from trader joes. Yummy, my tummy says. Your gaining wait to rapidly this pregnancy, the voice says. It taunts me saying that "if you keep this up, your going to get even bigger then you need to".

Sunday I enjoyed flipping through some family photos that were recently taken. What I longed to be precious memories felt overtaken and insecurity flared. Why are you so uptight, it's written all over your face the voice said. It fanned the flame of justification of why I deserve to buy new things so I can hide beneath the insecurity I can feel over my appearance.

So here I sit today. I have found myself fleeing to the comfort of errands, performing for Ellie, and busying myself with cooking muffins. I haven't allowed myself to watch a blink of Orange is the New Black and have promised myself that I will go to the gym.

The thoughts seem so oddly familiar and I know this cycle well. I need grace and gentleness today, Jesus.

I wish I was bigger, but today I am not. So here I will sit. Here I will wait.

My Current Threshold.

This week I learned something that struck my heart and I find myself sitting in while I cry and type these words.

Right now the threshold between me feeling valued as a person and triggers feels incredibly close. Underneath the triggers rests the layers of pain where I have felt that I am not valuable as a person. Those triggers still feel like mountains to me, which I know in my head tells me there is much to be grieved yet still. The line is quite thin and it feels like this past month has seemed to jostle it with little rest in-between the waves.

I finally had the courage to start reapplying for jobs. This is a big step for me because I don't have it figured out what it will look like if I was to start working again. Who would watch Ellie? Would I be able to handle the stress? What about baby #2? What about breastfeeding? What if there isn't even anything that interest's me? What if there is something that interests me and what I have to offer isn't enough? What if... Those have been past paralyzing thoughts.

 I have my passions and my heart to offer and often, those don't feel like they are enough.

So just applying for jobs was a huge victory for me. Yesterday, I received word that I did not get an interview at either of those jobs. That was hard for me because both of those jobs were the only ones in the area that I felt interested in.

 I gave myself permission to feel sad a little bit, but I notice that I suppressed some of how that made me feel. I know that my value doesn't come from whether I get an interview or not. But it still made me feel sad. I want to let it be sad, but I feel scared of what that means. It is all still quite puzzleing for me.


Today, I got a shot at learning about another open position that seems like it could be fitting, but also terrifies me. As I navigate and process it has triggered that paper thin threshold. Leaving my heart feeling the incredibly weight of feeling insignificant and not valued.

As I process the whys of this and try to navigate the pain it troubles me what it leaves me with--shame. Shame over how the choices that I have made have brought this upon myself. The truth feels so distant and that too makes me sad.

So here I sit. Left in the sadness. With little left other then to cry out to the one who longs to listen. What does it look like right now as a mother, wife, and just me, Jessica, to feel valued amidst this pain.  I hold fast to the truth that He will listen and be with me as I navigate this tender threshold of my personal value as a being.

Awakening.

So life comes in waves. Highs, lows, plateas.  I'm coming out of living life on either side of that pendulum, but what I forget is that that doesn't mean that I don't feel powerfully as it swings. I would love to not react out of those feelings, primarily the low ones, but I find that I do, more often than I would like.

Let me paint you the picture of the past few weeks.

Lots of crying. Heart wrenching sobs. Lots of dripping snot. Falling asleep to my tears. Waking up to tears. Feeling hopeless. Feeling inadequate as a mother. Feeling oh so tired. Feeling scared that Baby #2 is coming and it is only going to get harder. Escaping on Facebook. Escaping on instagram. Escaping on Twitter. Watching T.V. shows I don't like. Watching T.V. shows I like (YES THE BACHELORETTE). Not feeling big enough for really anything. Feeling furious with my marriage. Feeling furious with Rand. Demanding I be in places that I am not able to be. Messier than I would care to admit. Crazy thoughts.

BUT I also noticed this time some newer elements.

Choosing to still be in the midst of it. Letting myself cry. Letting myself cry in places I normally wouldn't. Not giving in to the fight emotions every time. Not giving into the flight urge most times. Walking to the grocery when I needed "flight". Going to bed early when I needed. Trying to be still and listen to where my heart is and honor it. Calling a friend to hang. Going for a walk. Going to the gym. Being silent when I needed. Seeing my choices and processing where the line between choosing and performance sits. Applying for part time jobs and not letting myself spiral to the what-ifs that it normally does. Waiting. Grieving. Releasing.

Allowing Rand to be and releasing some of my control. Getting to experience a minivacation. Builidng trust. Sitting back. Enjoying. Going with it. Watching my husband be a daddy. Watching my husband be my husband. Feeling fought for and protected. Being loved in my love language. Honoring my heart. Enjoying good food. Dreaming about adventure. Waking up and only having 10 minutes to get ready for a wedding. Breathing Deep. Getting Angry. Breathing Deep. Grieving. Being. Regretting bringing a 14 month old to a wedding. Breathing. Going with it. Enjoying friends from high school. Dancing with my loves. Cleaning leaky diapers.

I'm learning to trust myself. I'm learning to trust the grief process differently and not give it as much power. But that doesn't mean it isn't utterly wretched.

There are a lot of posts in my blog that will remain in draft mode because, well, it wouldn't be wise to let you into all of my heart. But I will summarize them by saying they were messy, wild, and crazy.

So that is step one and two of my typical grief cycle. Here is three. I start to feel alive again. Things reawaken in my heart. I notice that these things are most often reawakened when I come out of that low. I enjoy this spot of the grief cycle most. I don't feel as much pressure and my heart feels more free to be and be with itself.

The dreams typical cycle around being with friends, Rand, Ellie, and creating. Doing little experiments in the kitchen or the yard. Being active. Trying new things. Pinterest. Making meals. Treating my body better with small choices. I don't know. Its fun.

The next step typical has to do with spiraling.

I can start to get clutchy with those dreams and where my heart is coming alive. Forcing myself to exists under the standards of those dreams instead of allowing organic creativity and thought which doesn't know the confines of pressure or standards.  This is a step where my heart can start to go dead.

Another spiraling point would have to do with giving myself permission. A day holds a lot of grief. Sometimes it may seem small and sometimes big, but regardless there is a consequence to it, pain. Often I don't give myself permission to grieve or feel. I am much quicker at blaming, either myself or others, then giving myself permission to feel.

Here is a little example. Ellie wakes up early from her nap. I am in the middle of working on something. I am left with a choice. One choice looks to the self and the other looks to something bigger and more powerful.  Often I look to self. Sometimes I will feel grief. It may seem simple. But I am no expert about entering pain. Pain has always symbolized making "the wrong choice" for me. But what if it wasn't about the right or wrong choice and what if both were often painful?

So what I typically do is look to what my head is telling me healthy looks like. I should grieve this right now... entering it would allow for there to be a release. Giving myself permission to be sad and gentle with myself.

It is there that the next transition occurs.

I was struck on sunday by what the speaker was saying. We were looking at Psalm 32.  The psalmist speaks of  "keeping silent and his bones wasting away through his groaning all day long (vs. 3) and his strength being sapped as in the heat of summer" (vs 4).

I found myself relating do him, near tears. He feels heavy, weak, and as though he is wasting away.

I also found myself intrigued and drawn to the instruction he offers.

"Then I acknowledge my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said "I will confess my transgressions to the Lord and you forgave the guilt of my sin" (vs. 5). 

See. It's not a question of my salvation. (Most days) I do not question that moment when I asked Jesus to cover my sin. But what I desire is a dynamic relationship with him. One that is alive and active and tastes as sweet as honey. This dynamic relationship requires an offering of myself.
My sin. My pain. My heart. All of me.
Thats what I want.

No matter the form of grief, Ellie waking up early from a nap or Kia chewing my favorite pair of sandals, looking to self and looking to God are what I am left with to face that pain. Sunday I was struck by how often I still look towards self and the awakened desire to look to something more.

This passage speaks of honesty, forgiveness and a movement towards joy.
More then just an acknowledgement of sin, but a confession of transgression.

The difference I was struck by is that I've gotten pretty good at aknowledging my sin. I often know or sense when I have messed up, whether towards my husband, my child, or myself. But this passage asks for something more.

A confession of transgression, a repentant heart.
Jesus. Here I sense even now that I am creating this into a formula. The heart can't live in the confines of that. I do sense you beckoning my heart towards you. Bringing my heart up to speed with where my head lies. It seems that I have been trying for so long to look towards myself. To try and wrap my head around truth or the realites of the heart so that I can bring my heart somewhere. I can't. It's failing, miserably. But there you still are. Calling me back to yourself, so gently and with an enticement that tastes alive. Would you teach my heart repentance? Would you counsel me with the loving eye you promised this psalmist. I feel like your the last place I look most often.  I long to taste your sweet love and gentle instruction.

Blessed is the one

    whose transgressions are forgiven,

    whose sins are covered.

2 

Blessed is the one

    whose sin the Lord does not count against them

    and in whose spirit is no deceit.

3 

When I kept silent,

    my bones wasted away

    through my groaning all day long.

4 

For day and night

    your hand was heavy on me;

my strength was sapped

    as in the heat of summer.[b]

5 

Then I acknowledged my sin to you

    and did not cover up my iniquity.

I said, “I will confess

    my transgressions to the Lord.”

And you forgave

    the guilt of my sin.

6 

Therefore let all the faithful pray to you

    while you may be found;

surely the rising of the mighty waters

    will not reach them.

7 

You are my hiding place;

    you will protect me from trouble

    and surround me with songs of deliverance.

8 

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;

    I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.

9 

Do not be like the horse or the mule,

    which have no understanding

but must be controlled by bit and bridle

    or they will not come to you.

10 

Many are the woes of the wicked,

    but the Lord’s unfailing love

    surrounds the one who trusts in him.

11 

Rejoice in the Lord and be glad, you righteous;

    sing, all you who are upright in heart!

Monday.

So today is one of those days. I can feel the waves coming towards me.
This weekend an event happened in my family that stirred up all sorts of pain within me.
A deep Rage wants to emerge.
It wants to take out my frustration on my husband
and check out and mindlessly go through my social media pages to medicate.

I want to stay alive in the midst of this. Enter the pain and allow myself to grieve for my family and grieve the pain that is still fresh in my own heart.

But that feels really hard right now.

I've heard it phrased as entering it as much as I am able and then putting it on the shelf when I need to.
So maybe there will be a little Parks and Rec binge ahead of me.

But honestly. I just want to cry want now. And I feel the tears starting to flow.
I'm not fully sure what they are about, but I know it has something to do with the event that happened this weekend and the memories that stirs for me.

Jesus. I don't know what this looks like right now. But I'm grateful for a heart that is softening and able to let tears flow. I wish I was bigger. Big enough to have more compassion than I feel capable of and big enough to grieve my own pain. I wish my heart more fully believed that even though I don't feel big enough right now that I am still loved and accepted just as much, but it doesn't.
I feel pissed at you and grateful for you at the same time. Man. Would you intervene in ways my heart doesn't feel like your big enough too?

Suffering.

I think I mentioned in my other blog that I am reading "Moving Through Your Problems Towards Finding God" by Larry Crab. If not. Well, I am.

The chapter I am on is discussing Supernatural Passion, Chapter 4. He discusses various aspects of this, but one dimension of his thoughts on suffering being inevitable struck me. On page 61 He writes:

"A final important truth is that suffering is inevitable. Proud people want an explanation of whatever goes wrong. If we discover that our fear of intimacy is a result of childhood abuse, then our lives seem more under control. Now we have something to work on to make things better. By thinking hard about the human condition and coming up with theories about what is going on, we destroy mystery, and we maintain the illusion that, with enough insight and effort, we can take care of ourselves and our suffering will end."

My first thought was. Damn. That was pretty juicy.

My second thought was, proud people. I don't want to be proud. Let me reread that.

My third thought was. Man, I don't know if I like that.

My fourth thought was. I don't want to take as truth, yet, but I know this guy is pretty wise. What do I think about it? Do I agree with it? Do I not? Why do I or don't I?

So here are my thoughts after 4.

First, I hate the red little lines that remind you when you have misspelled something. It's like thanks for the bold reminder, but I didn't ask for your feedback. Then I think, yeah, good thing they are there, otherwise this could be pretty difficult to read.

Suffering is inevitable makes me angry. My head knows that anger is a secondary emotion, so it invites me to dig a little deeper. What else does it make me feel?

Words that spew out are:
Unjust
Hopeless
Sad.
Out of control.

I feel like his description smacks me like those youtube videos of the karate people who are trying to chop through a piece of wood and fail. OUCH.

It feels like it is where I am at right now. See, I'm coming out of a place of pretty significant anger. Pain that I had never known how to enter or grieve. Deep sadness, beneath a deep rage. That cycle has been pretty long. I would call it the "F-U" Jessica. But really, I dropped the F*** bomb more times than I can count. I'm just sort of coming out of it, disheveled, but breathing and even hopeful. Who knew.

The next phase I have been on and still am in, a bit, is blame and resentment. Which is where I feel like this paragraph meets and strikes me at.
An exploration and explanation of the wrongs that have been done to me. In my family of origin, by the 3rd grade girl, Jade, that made me feel like an outcast when I was 8, my husband, my teachers, my friends.

Well, if I can just figure out these wrongs, then maybe I will be onto something. I feel it's activity present in the day to day. It fuels some of my activities. If I just spend some time working on this, reading this blog, book, or tidbit or getting in an extra counseling session.

"Now I have something to work on, to make better" and maybe at the end of that I will feel better.
Life will be better.
Money won't be so tight
I will have certainty about who will watch Ellie and the new babe when I do my internship.

"By thinking hard about the human condition and coming up with theories about what is going on... with enough insight and effort, we can take care of ourselves and our suffering will end."

Karate kid analogy again. BOOM. it hits me. 

I have a quest for knowledge. I enjoy learning, engaging, and thinking and I think that is beautiful.

However,

I do feel like sometimes my motivations can take quick and spiraling twists.

The thing is, I was created for heaven, so it would make sense that I would try and figure this thing out to relieve my soul of the pain it wasn't designed to face independent of the Creator. 

BUT

It also fuels both my pride and rebellion from God, keeping me from coming to him with my suffering. From really getting to see that He is the point. Not in the cliche way either, that sends triggoring tremmors down my spine. 

MAYBE

Finding God is more important than present relief. 

(tell that to me at 2 am after I have this next kid & I may kill you)

What if "Future hope is more valuable then present relief"

9 months ago I may have vomited if you told me that because of how phrases like that have been used to silence my soul. When I was not in a place where I wanted that advice and it was still given, super deep wounds.

I'm grateful, however, that I can separate that pain because

MAN

There is some real truth in that.

Truth that I am tasting as I choose to get out of bed to soothe my crying daughter when I am pretty tired or as I choose to not spiral into believing that the reason my husband didn't fall asleep in bed next to me is not because I am not important. 

If that statement is true. 

IF

"Future hope is more valuable then present relief" as Crabb talks about,

I feel like it changes something in my soul.

My mind is often preoccupied with trying to alleviate suffering in some way. 

What would it look like if my life valued hope more then relief? 

I think it would taste with the same sweetness as this couple's choice of marriage in the midst of a traumatic brain injury.
http://www.faithit.com/people-stunned-chose-marry-him-they-said-never-work-3-years-later-couldnt-be-better-ian-larissa/

I really feel like I want a deeper taste of You Jesus, but it is freaking scary to think that that will likely come at a deeper suffering and pain than I know now or feel capable of entering. But I trust you. And I want you. And I'm scared.