Happy Easter 1988

It's Easter week. It's Spring. In my family it's Birthday Season; four celebrations between March 1st and April 5th. And when we were younger-Time for New Dresses- matching dresses & bows (that matched the dresses) that mom made.

Passover week is intense. And since I've joined the church I am with here in NYC, I've really delve into what it's all about- the week leading up to the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus.

Our church does a Good Friday Service- Tenebrae. In Texas only Catholic churches held Good Friday services, as far as I know, and the word Tenebrae itself was an entirely new word in my vocabulary. The music we have been rehearsing is somber, reflective, INTENSE. (I know I said this earlier, but it really is.)

So we look forward to Good Friday, knowing that he rose again and we are covered by his mercy & love. We are who we are- we can have peace in life knowing we are children of a King- because of this very event. It's easy to get bogged down in the heaviness of Christ's death. I mean- it's necessary to "go there" to visit the cross and remember what he DID for us, for love. But, I have to remind myself that he's alive today as I sing "..it was my sin that held him there, until it was accomplished. His dieing breath has brought me life, I know that it is finished.." And when we all leave in the dark, in silence, the piercing pulse of hammering ringing in our ears- we know he rose again. I have to remind myself....

I do not however want to confuse depravity & unworthiness with self-loathing. And I do not want to misinterpret selfish pride for the confidence we can have to approach the throne of grace. (Ah, the fine line that I seem to walk, God forgive me.) I know, the more we walk with him and the more time we spend with him the more our lives reflect Him.

So, tonight is rehearsal, tomorrow night is rehearsal, Friday I will sing in two Tenebrae services with my choir peeps. Saturday is the Half Marathon. And Sunday- HE IS RISEN- and Chris and I both will be singing on the praise team for both services. I'm actually not stressed, burdened down, or looking at all of this with a sense of dread and "what have I gotten myself into." I AM HAPPY I get to be a part of all of these things for his glory.

Chris is on Spring Break presently. I am off work Friday & this weekend is supposed to be gorgeous! I am not feeling 100% but I walked to the train today for the first time since last Thursday. Last night I spent some time in the hot tub and I would have liked to get on the stationary bike last night and/ or this morning. But Dr. Chris Chambers would NOT let me. (I have to live with this man, so I do not want upset him!) Seriously, he just wants me well.

At this point I am pretty sure I could walk 13.1 miles on Saturday. BUT, I don't want to walk, I WANNA RUN! Maybe I can walk/jog. Heat-ice-stretch-rest. This will be my routine until then. And can I just say, resting is necessary and good, but it goes against all that is within me.

Isaiah 30:15 & 18
"In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength. Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion.For the LORD is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!

Romans 8:18- I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.

He has bigger plans. I know he does. Just look at the cross. There could be no resurrection without a crucifixion. That would have NEVER been my plan.

You only live once.

So, it's Friday night at 9:00PM and I'm updating my blog.

Seriously, I am on bed rest, which is super hard for me. Chris's Spring Break started today at 3:30 and he headed for upstate NY to go camping. To get away. To spend some time in nature. Something I'd love to be doing. Unfortunately, I don't sleep on the ground, use the bathroom in the woods or eat spam- so I am here, in my nice cosy apartment in NYC. Something About Mary is on TV- I've never seen it, oddly enough.

I hardly know what to do with myself having to be still in my house. I'm usually DOing something. And I sort of wish I could rearrange my flower arrangement - cut the ends off and feed them a sugar cube. I pride myself in being able to keep my flowers alive for weeks after I receive them. I love fresh flowers. Anyway. Here I sit, two books by my side, my journal and four remotes. (Chris gave me a tutorial on how to use the Blueray before he left.)

Last night I went out with three friends to celebrate my birthday. We went to a Peruvian restaurant where we had too much food and too much Sangria followed by too much sugar when we got back to my apartment.

So, I said "forget about it" to the medicine (well one of them anyway) and will be taking it at a later date. And what is a birthday without a miniature cupcake or two (or three...)? I am grateful for friends like this who make me feel like a princess and forget the heaviness of the world - if only for a few hours.

Tonight I was supposed to go to a pasta dinner - a fundraiser for Rwanda- that I already had a ticket for, but I left work early and have been sitting in Chris's recliner since about 3:00.

The pain in my groin has intensified- tremendously. (This is ON TOP OF my other issues that I'm experiencing physically right now. I turn 30 and oh-my-stars, I'm freaking falling apart!)

Yesterday I tried to run- a mistake I regret making in retrospect, however I'm not 100% convinced that it is what did me in. After just 10 minutes on the treadmill, I had to quit. And did so angrily. Yesterday I was in a little pain, my muscles ached, but I could walk. Last night it was a bit worse but I just moved slower. But this morning I could hardly put one leg in-front of the other; a cane would have come in handy for sure. But I insisted on going to work, after all, "I just sit all day," I kept telling Chris. He insisted I take a cab.

So, I got out of the cab on the far side of Grand Central Station, thinking, I'll just walk through the terminal and save a dollar or so. New York City is not friendly to the slow, handicapped or disabled. I realize that I was moving at a snails pace, experiencing excruciating pain with each step- and I DO realize I'm usually the one zooming over these slow people, but it was rough getting through all those suits and briefcases. I had to stop three times walking through Grand Central to our offices to pull myself together. Compose myself. NOT cry.

I left work at 2:00 because I need to be still. I need to ice my muscles. I'm upset I am unable to attend the Running for Rwanda fundraiser tonight. I was going to go out with the girls afterward. Have drinks. Maybe ride the mechanical bull at Johnny Utah's - thus the drinks. I'm upset I can not run with the team in the morning for our last training run. I'm upset I will not be able to participate in the 15k on Sunday. And mostly, I'm deeply worried about my ability to run my Half Marathon in one week. Right now I'm limping to walk to and from the bathroom.

I feel like God has had to do what he's had to do to get my undivided attention.

"Stefani, you think you control your body, your health, what you look like; you try desperately to cling to your youth, your curves, your beauty. But I AM IN CONTROL, not you. I want to know you. I want to be your number one. I want you to give me 100% control and then you will find abundant life."

So here I am sitting still.

Tomorrow I have dinner plans with two lovely girls from church. We are supposed to have dinner at a vegan/ hippie/ tree-hugging place in the East Village and then get vegan tofu cupcakes to eat at my apartment while we watch Food Inc. Then... SLUMBER PARTY. Sunday they are going to sing in the choir and I was going to go run.

My original plan for Sunday was to run a 15k, but now, if I can stand up, I'll be waving my palm branch and singing Hosanna in the choir. (Why does this hurt my heart? Why am I so upset about having to sit out? I am sad that I have to miss a race to usher in Holy Week... this amplifies my depravity. My selfishness.) More still, I will be crushed if I can't run April 3rd. I feel like I've work so hard. I don't deserve this.

With this flippant, self-serving spirit it's no wonder that in less than one week we'll shout, "Crucify Him."

Roots

I'm not going to lie. Yesterday was tough- physically and mentally. But I'm so thankful for all the love and sincere well wishes that surrounded me.

I spent my lunch hour in a doctors office and left with two prescriptions and no answers. After work I headed home to meet Chris and dropped my Rx off at the Duane Reade (that's a pharmacy for those of you in the mid-west) across the street. When I got home Chris gave me the cutest hippie/ home-made looking shirt from a boutique store with a boutique price-tag. (He left the tag on "just in case [I] want to take it back and exchange it.") I love it when he picks things out for me though. It gives me a chance to see what he sees my style as & maybe what he'd like to see me wearing. I do like the top- it's very quirky and totally me.

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Because I am possibly the WORST decision maker, I had given Chris a list of five restaurants that I would like to try out. (New restaurants only! There is too much good food in NYC to eat at the same place all the time.) He chose Flex Mussels, cause you know I love bivalves! I was ten short blocks and four avenues from us, so we walked there and walked home. The food was really great I had the FRA DIAVOLO- San Marzano tomatoes, olive oil, garlic, fresh basil and Chris had FUNGHI- wild mushrooms, double smoked bacon,garlic, cream. At dinner Chris gave me another gift, a lovely necklace with the tree of life on it. I absolutely adore it. It was a wonderful night: dinner & no drinks (for me at least) because of my meds...

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Then my spirits began melting into the rain that started to fall on our walk home. I'm supposed to avoid sugar. I know this. Sugar and simple carbs feed yeast. So, for dessert on my 30th Birthday I stopped at a Seven-11 (Yes, they are in Manhattan and have great fountain drinks and iced coffee but no gasoline.) and got a sugar-free apple mango Icee. It made me want to cry; it was such a pathetic effort of celebration.

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And on the way home I remembered that the pharmacy closes at 9:00. I wouldn't be able to take my medicine until the next day. Which also made me want to cry and I considered buying something over the counter- but I knew I shouldn't. We went into the store, in the hopes we'd catch someone in the pharmacy closing up or something, however all we saw was a my tray of meds locked behind the gate.

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Still trying to remain optimistic we got home and I just felt so heavy. Heavy with dealing. Heavy with feeling sorry for my husband. Heavy with feeling guilty for being so down. On my Birthday, when I have so much to be happy for.

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This problem is so personal and private and affects me not only physically but mentally as well. And it effects my marriage. And I love my husband. He is the greatest husband, but I know he feels like breaking every once in awhile. Or throwing something. I go through the stages of grief- mourning, anger, frustration and then just tell myself "I'll deal with it." For the rest of my life...

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And last night sitting on the edge of my white comforter, with purple eyeshadow running down my face in into my lap- I vented to Chris. Because I want a "normal" marriage, I want a "normal" love life, I want to be healthy and not have a chronic illness that seems to have no trigger and no cure.

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When I was finally quiet he asked me what Bible character I was. I already knew. I wanted to say, "Job" but I knew. Martha.

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"Stefani, you want this and you want that. What does God want? Even when you say you are not worried about it you say, 'I decided that I am going to just power through. And be positive.' Maybe you should quit doing and trying and see what God wants."

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I know all this. I do, but hearing it from my husband, knowing he hurts for me but still rests in the confidence that God is in control, brought such reassurance. Such comfort.

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This morning I read this:

“He knows the way that I take; when He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold” (Job 23:10). From this wise statement we can learn two valuable lessons: One is that what we dread most can be used to test our character and make us stronger. The other is that God will provide the strength and comfort to see us through. Our Daily Bread

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What do I dread most, Stefani? I stopped and asked myself.

Loosing my husband. Being alone without him for the rest of my life.

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So, this is my test. This, this problem of mine has had a HUGE impact on our marriage.

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Two Sunday's ago our associate pastor preached on the final portion of The Lord's Prayer, "lead us not into temptation." And during this service Chris and I both got some very clear answers from God. We knew that all of this stuff, that beats us down, it happens for a reason- even Jesus himself was tempted. And just because stuff happens and doctors don't know why and you can't make love to your husband on the night of your 30th birthday- God knows why.

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Jeremiah 17:5-8 This is what the LORD says:

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"Cursed is the one who trusts in man,who depends on flesh for his strength and whose heart turns away from the LORD. He will be like a bush in the wastelands; he will not see prosperity when it comes. He will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives.

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"But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit."

Happy Birthday Explosion

When I went to bed on March 22nd it was raining. Lightning. Thundering. Lightning and Thunder hardly ever happen here, in the city.
Yesterday I went to the dentist. I had a cavity.
And Saturday I saw my first gray hair, right at my temple, about 2 inches long. (I'm very serious.)

I may have a yeast infection. Another one. Again. I don' t know, something just doesn't seem right- I will go to the doctor if necessary and not self diagnose. But, I know my body and I HATE the conversations & medications. The doctor trying to tell me why this happens- chronically, and me knowing that I don't do anything to cause this. That this- this is not my fault. I am healthy, I eat yogurt and take acidophilus three times a day. I avoid processed sugar (for the most part... of course there are those Girl Scout Cookies in my freezer and I do love Good and Plenty.) But trust me, I've been through the checklists; I've eliminated things from my diet, changed things, added things, been to endocrinologist, urologist, gynecologist: I'm tired of dealing with this. Really really tired. I want to be as healthy as I feel I should be.

Additionally, at 10:30 this morning I got a huge hole/ runner in my sheer, black pantyhose. I've never gotten a runner in my hosiery while at work. Not that I can remember. So, I headed down to Rite-Aid to see what they had to offer me in their selection of hose that come in an egg. (I bought two pairs just in case.)

And I haven't run since my 10 miles on Saturday. I think I pulled my groin. Or something. And Chris "read an article" (God help!) that said you should "take three days off from running when you feel any serious pain." My pain isn't THAT serious. But, what's serious? Serious to me is when you need a doctor, or crutches or surgery. So, I've been walking, biking and doing the elliptical machine- interspersed with lots of stretching. This morning after I climbed on the elliptical machine and typed in my weight (if that weren't rough enough facing first thing in the morning...) I pressed 3-0 for age. However, going up in age is much easier than going up in weight.

I took my Real Age test this morning. Only because they sent me a Happy Birthday e-mail that prompted me to. I subscribe to their weekly newsletter/ email. My real age is 20. So I guess that's good. After answering the questionnaire it suggested that I manage stress better and get a dog. (Because dogs help manage stress?)

Seriously, these minor bumps today are a HUGE test for me not to get upset, cry, or be angry about things that I can not control. I am choosing to live freely today. To not be perfect. Pefect is annoying to others and a total turn-off. I'm chosing to rise above my circumstances and the things in life that happen. God still has me in his hands.

"Are you not worth more than these." The birds of the air and the flowers of the field.

I cried for all of one minute this morning. Then I chose to vent to my sister in a text message and started singing. There was no way I could get my eye make-up on with those tears and all that drama. God must just laugh at me sometimes.

AND I know, I KNOW, that there are people, Christians who love and serve the same God as I do, with real issues. People in marriages who wonder if they'll celebrate another anniversary, people with unwanted pregnancies, people who feel like God has forgotten them. And they know God has not really forgotten them, but so often it feels true. Because they are still jobless, they are still looking for Mr. Right and they still wonder if they totally missed God's calling on their life. Are they in the right profession, the right city, the right church, the right relationship?

But I think God isn't really concerned with all of that. I mean, he IS concerned. BUT, more importantly He wants us. He wants time with us, daily. He just wants us to realize that so much that we focus on, day in and day out, doesn't matter.

We follow a God we don't understand, a God larger than we can imagine, a God that requires that we trust him. PERIOD. For God so loved the world, that he gave. He Gave. He gave His only son. So, how can I think that I am not worth anything, not loved? He Gave His Son, and we are called to do the same, Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, body and strength & Love your neighbor as yourself.

How much am I giving? Ten percent? Two hours on Sunday? One Saturday a quarter? I don't think that is what God is talking about. Giving away an extra bedroom, an extra paycheck, an extra vehicle? We have so much extra.

Today, I am counting all the emails, texts, cards, packages and Facebook notes instead of gray hairs and spider veins.

I am thankful for a new dress that makes me feel beautiful.

I am thankful my husband shaved and wore cuff-links just for me today.

I know I am loved. I know that my days/ time/ how I spend my life matters.

Even when I get a run in my hosiery.

(This pictures is old. My co-workers "decorated" my office in Tyler. I was a little less than happy.)

Packages!

I love getting packages in the mail, who doesn't. But even more-so since we've moved so far away from so many people we love, packages are just fabulous. Candies, or books, or special treats from home: Texas wines and homemade salsas!

But, last week I got a birthday box from one of my favorite stores, Anthropologie! I also got a gift card to get that bright blue sundress with a big wide sash. AND--- a big tote bag full of wonderful goodies and reading material & makeup and... too, too much stuff!

Birthdays are the best. Previously to moving to NYC we lived in Tyler and I felt terribly lucky that my birthday coincided with the beautiful Azalea Trails; like all those flowers were just for me. I spent several birthdays wondering through the tulips and daffodils and azaleas lining those brick streets.

This birthday is a milestone. Another decade, and usually, I'm pretty secretive about my birthday. I don't tell people; if they know they know, if they don't they don't. I don't expect anything, or want to be acknowledged with some email or bulletin board notice. However, this year I'm mentioning to people- not annoyingly so, but in passing. I even altered my Facebook profile to show that my birthday is March 23rd- and proudly added the year.

In addition to these gifts I received coupons in my Yahoo inbox for free ice-cream at Ben and Jerry's and at Cold Stone Creamery from signing up for the "Birthday Club." (Ain't no shame, free is free!) And Starbucks will also be giving away FREE PASTRIES with the purchase of any beverage on March 23rd as well.

So- the weekend wrapped up fabulously. Saturday started with a ten mile run in Central Park. I felt so strong and well-prepared for the half marathon when Chris and I headed home. We had a high protein lunch and then I headed out. OUTSIDE into the sun where I met a friend and her roommate at Union Square. Five hours, a frappacino and with one big floppy sun-hat in tow, I headed home only after the sun had hidden behind the buildings. I also bought.... a LBD.

Do you know what that is?

Chris did not.

Little Black Dress.

AND I love it. I'm wearing to my birthday dinner with Chris & probably to a pasta dinner/ event/ fundraiser on Friday night.

It's going to be a wonderful week. Welcome Spring! Thank You, Jesus for Life.

it's seventy degrees outside and I'm inside

Seriously, these people work too hard. And I know you will believe me when I tell you the first question I asked the Big Boss when I saw him this morning was if we could leave at 1:00 today.

"Why," he asked.

"Because it's so beautiful outside today. Mental health. You won't even have to buy us lunch today. And we'll all work really hard next week." Smile. Wink. Toss of the hair.

"No." Dead stare. "Not at all. And, just for asking you can stay until 7:00pm."

We should all be more European. This is ridiculous. God is throwing us a bone, a few nice days- before the rain of next week. And I know there will be more beautiful days, but it's not here to stay. I'm no fool. Coat weather will be back again- then sometime in late May, it'll be 70 degrees again.

But today, today I am wearing a khaki skirt (United Colors of Benetton) that I picked up for $7.50 last night at Housing Works and a scarf I got for 3/$3.99. I love being thrifty. I really do, I pride myself in it. (Especially after trying on a pair of Capri pants and a top off the sales rack at Kenneth Cole and almost dropping $90 for the two pieces. Unnecessary. Walk away. But, I am still looking for that Spring Dress!) Not only am I wearing a skirt and scarf but a white blouse and navy blazer. Converse sneakers to the office & 3" BCBG heels at the office. Love it. I love Spring. I feel like spring today.

I woke up, talked with God, had some Kashi Cereal & 1/2 banana in my Greek yogurt. Chris and I exchanged pleasantries and dreams of the weekend to come in the one hour we share together each morning. Coffee. Sunshine spilling in. Silence. Ingredients to a perfect morning.

I opened a box that was waiting for me last night when I got home from work. (Yes, I waited 12 hours to open this box. Initially I wanted to wait until my birthday, but this morning I was like, "fa-get-a-bout-it." I was a sweet birthday present from a sweet friend. Pink rosebud earrings & a jewelry box. I took pictures with my camera. Of earrings. Sort of weird right? Last night I also received..... MY MONEY. My first real money for writing. YAY! I took a picture of that check too.

On my walk to the train I felt like Meg Ryan's character in You've Got Mail walking around New York when she's ridiculously optimistic about love and her career and present situation- The Cranberries song Dream playing in the background. It's an I love New York City kind of day.

I had lunch with a friend in Bryant Park-with about 1,000 other people. We were lucky enough to scavenge about for chairs and actually found a couple. Tonight I'm meeting up with another friend-and this weekend I'm running with friends, garage saleing with friends, church with friends, shopping with friends. I love people. They are good to have.

This weekend is our nine mile run (two weeks until the BIG DAY) in Central Park. It will be the
first run without my headband, gloves and long-sleeves; I may even wear shorts! Seriously, I may be outside from sun up to sun down these next couple of days.

It has been a jam packed week, and I'm really not saying much here, rather, simply checking in. I'm here. I'm good. I can't wait to begin a new decade!

XO
Stef

Breaking Point

A year ago today, I flew home from spending a month in Texas. This is the beginning of that story...
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DELETED

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This piece will be pulished in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Family Matters in Oct. 2010.

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Maybe you caught this story while is was on my blog for about 12 hours. Maybe not. I removed the story.

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And here's why. It's not because I didn't ask all parties involved if I could tell the story. Here. On my blog. If I am going to reveal someones identity or make it quite clear who I am speaking about, then I ALWAYS ask if I can write about it, assuming it's negative, or personal or otherwise embarrasing to them. I know some of you are thinking, she mentioned me (more than once...) and didn't ask me! Well, I assumed you wouldn't care/ be bothered/ might not read about the "fill-in-the-blank" instance. Plus, usually I write about day-to-day conversations, events, the little things that make life life. And, people are about 80% of this--- anyway, sorry if I've offended any of you with my posts. I try not to.

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BUT- the reason I deleted this story is, well, I want to get paid for it. AND some publications consider one's personal blog as publication, although most do not. However, I'd like to not step into the grey area and keep my story off the blog until after Oct.

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So, I didn't do anything wrong or say anything (on this post) that I shouldn't have, I should probably just keep my story unpublished to avoid any issues...

Chandeliers in Schoolyards

In Texas we call them playgrounds, in Manhattan they're called yards, but should more appropriately be called "a large concrete area with a few basketball goals, and four-square courts surrounded by 15 foot chain-length fencing." This is where children spend their recess in the city- the yard.

On Sunday Chris and I meandered through an antique fair held in a school yard on the west side. There were plenty of true antiques: clothes, jewelery, odd foreign objects and furniture. It was actually one of the better markets I've been to. So many street fairs in NYC are just full of junk and may only have a handful of real art designed by real artists. This was a good market- if you like antiques.

Me personally, I like the glassware and breakable serving pieces. Little trays, oddly painted serving bowls, cream and sugar sets and stemware. (This is why I LOVE Anthropologie- things LOOK old, antique-like, unique unto themselves, but they really aren't. I do love that store though!) Rarely do I actually BUY anything at these antique markets, especially since moving to NY, but I like to look at it all. The pieces remind me of my Nana and the windowsill above the breakfast table in the kitchen she and my Grandaddy shared for so many years.

Above their kitchen table, which was pushed against the wall, was a large window with about 6 shelves. She had lined the shelves with various glass pieces in shades of amber and blue and yellow which appeared so magnificently when the sun shone on them each morning. I assumed they were quite special since they were just for looking at and things that we never actually ate or drank out of. And for some reason I still think those things hold more value than the Pier One/ Target decor that sits atop my bookcases and inset shelving, but perhaps it's just sentimental value. Perhaps those were just "pretties to look at" and "nick-knacks." I don't know.

I remember those glass pieces like I recall the cross stitched tapestry my mother made that hung above my parents bed, "To love and be loved is the greatest joy on Earth." Just like the other framed pieces that my mom created that hung in the house I grew up in, "Thankful I will ever be for the one who fathered me," and "A mother holds her children's hands for awhile, their hearts forever." I just remember. I've read them a million times and even wrote songs, that I still hear in my head, with these lyrics when I was very small.

My Grandparent's kitchen table was where we actual ate in their home. The carpeted dining room with the massive record player, Steinway piano and chandelier was for formal meals: Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve dinner and the occasional family get-together.

At the kitchen table, however, my Grandaddy sat at one end, my Nana the other and the seat with the view was left for me. I looked out that window and at those glass pieces with every bowl of Rice Crispies or Corn Flakes. (My grandparents never bought sweet cereals for us, or treats. Only when my older cousins, who were in high school or college, would come to town would there be an occasional box of Fruity Pebbles.) Grapenuts, Chex, and Wheaties were also in the rotation. I'll never forget when my younger sister discovered that three of the 10-12 boxes lined up on the shelf were used as safe-keeping for fine silver.

Occasionally, breakfast was a frozen Lender's bagel straight out of the convection oven with orange marmalade- what a treat! But it was usually cereal and orange juice with a cloth napkin. I never liked the cloth napkin thing. But my Nana was a lady. And formal. And a host. So we ate our bran flakes without slurping, without elbows on the table, and talked about the day ahead: shopping at Marshall's and Town East Mall, going to Penny Whistle Park and maybe dinner at Wyatt's Cafeteria followed by a walk around the neighborhood and The Parent Trap or 101 Dalmatians.

I can still smell the motor oil in the garage and Wrigley's spearmint smell of the brown Oldsmobile as we'd head out onto Jim Miller Road: Dallas, Texas here I come!

NYC snow... it ain't pretty.

Lovely, isn't it?

Snowed in.

Yikes!

Just Trashy.

Car Free! I love this stretch of road- 92nd Street in between Second and Third Avenue. A bricked, tree-lined, car free block right next to the park.

We saw lots and lots of this going on...

Building an ingloo.

Dirty snow in the school yard close to ten days AFTER the last snowfall.

Incognito

A friend of mine recently confessed to me that she's been "hiding out." And while I don't know the entire story, perhaps those little, life things that somehow take a toll on our spirits daily, eventually crushed her. I do know what she means. I hate it when Chris asks me what's wrong, when I'm crying, or noisily putting up dishes or sitting quietly- and I have no response. I don't know what's wrong. It's a million a little things. What's not wrong? What's right?

I don't know anymore. Don't ask me what's wrong, don't ask me what happened, and don't, DON'T even expect me to keep pouring all I am into everything I do- I'm tired. I'm really tired, even though I feel that I shouldn't be, I also feel that I just want to be incognito for a little while. MIA. Hide out somewhere. Just go away until I want to come back.

Another friend of mine just posted a GREAT quote from the book, Monk Habits for Everyday People, by Dennis Okholm:

"Stability means being faithful where we are - really paying attention to whom we live with and what is happening in our common life. Persevering in stability is persevering in listening. A person stays where God has put her** (not in abusive situations, of course) because it is with that group of folks, speaking truth in love, that she will grow with them "to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ" as Paul puts it to the Ephesians (Eph 4:11-16)"
"The amazing irony is that only through stability - staying where God has put us - can we change. We must stay in the same community in order not to stay in the same relationship with God."

Lately, I've been discussing with friends- many people actually- how much of our personal growth as a Christian can we expect the church to be responsible for. I believe being a part of a church is necessary for Christian growth, not for salvation, but to learn and move forward being around other believers is vital. At least it has been for me. And I do absolutely love my church family here. But sometimes I'm sick of people (not one person specifically, hear me out, just being around people in general) and sometimes people are sick of me.

And it's not just my church that I get tired of, but all persons. Co-workers, strangers on the subway, everyone- just leave me alone. Please! (I even received a nice little text yesterday, from someone who loves and cares about me just saying "Sorry we didn't get to talk this morning. Are you okay? Is everything cool?" I haven't even responded. Yesterday after church, I went to a movie, then went walking with Chris, the prepared dinner (okay, see I should have responded by this point, but I didn't).

And now it's been over 24 hours and I don't even know what to say, so I guess I'll just have to appologize. That's usually how my attitude works. I realize in the moment that I'm acting completly selfish, me centered, and upset but then I just figure I'll ask for forgiveness when my "fit" is complete. I just need time to decompress- to unwind like a top- to forgive myself for whatever it is that I'm mad at myself about. (99% of the time this stems from my longing to be perfect.)

So often I think it is our first inclination, knee-jerk response to just avoid the situation, leave, start over, move on and begin again. But that is not really what we need to do, what I need to do. I need to remember and return and realize that it's for times like this, for sinking sand and dark hours- that we need our community most.

It's not the churches fault that I sometimes feel drained and want to be a "Sunday morning only" attender. It's not the churches fault that people walk out the back doors every week and don't leave changed. I know how to pray. I know how to read the Bible. I know what to do when I feel like this- but sometimes I choose not to do it. And that, that is my fault. I know it's not in running away, or becoming detached or being the Happy Clappy Jesus Freak, so I'm being real. (And in all honesty I didn't even want to write this blog post.)

But I know even when I don't feel like it, God is still right beside me. And when I do what He's called me to do, then I will receive His favor, and God will continued to use this broken vessel. He's not interested in what I can do, but what He can do in all those areas in my life that seem a mess- rough, jagged and unsteady. If I chose to run away and reinvent myself somewhere else, through something else, or with another group of believers- I will not grow and those new people are people too. And one day I'll be rude to them and they'll get on my nerves too.

It's not that I'm tired of community, but sometimes it's draining. I refuel in my alone times, I prefer to be alone. But I know I can't be a hermit & my life has been much more enjoyable & lovely lived with people. I can't survive as an island. I think I've just let Satan attack & I've considered how easy it would be to quit. Quit blogging, quit e-mailing, quit outings and group events and doing stuff. But I know that is not what God wants for me. Expressing Love and living life together- that's where real joy is, I know this.

Yesterday the sermon was on forgivness. And as odd as this may seem ,the person I have the hardest problem forgiving is myself. It feels so much better to forgive, even though it doesn't neccessarily answer all the questions, than it does to live in resentment.

Secret Wedding

Today is the fourth anniversary of our marriage. Yes, our wedding was October 5, 2006 but our marriage began on March 5, 2006. (If you want to know the story, buy the book.)
...

I'm looking forward to this weekend more than I've looked forward to a weekend in quite awhile, because it's supposed to be in the 50's!!! I truly hope that Mr. Weatherman has this one right, because I'm in desperate need of some outdoors- some aimless wandering in the park and window shopping up and down Third Avenue.

I just realized how funny it is that on March 5th in Texas I could wear a skirt and kitten heels sans tights and today I have on a sweater dress with the SAME cardigan that I have on in this photo, tights, wool socks and boots. This morning there were snow flurries whipping through the air.

So, I didn't mention a very exciting thing that happened but, Chris and a friend of his were able to retrieve my iPod from the treadmill Wednesday night. And it still works- even if it does have a few more scratches. So, the story goes something like this:

When I arrived home Wednesday night Chris and two friends were watching TV, watching video games (as it appeared to me- they were watching the video game, not actually playing it) and drinking Budweiser. So, we are all talking, and I'm laughing at them talk about work, students, and life. I mentioned to Chris that I had received another donation for the 1/2 Marathon- this time $50. Then, one of Chris's friends began asking us about the race, why we were doing it etc. So, at 11:00PM, after I don't know how many beverages, one fine fellow announces that a half marathon is "nothing" it's "easy" even. "I've run like twenty marathons," he declares.

This was news to all three of us. Chris has worked with this guy for three years now, and never got that "I'm really into being fit and care about my body" impression from him. So, we are all laughing at him, which is probably when he decides to say, "I could run a 1/2 Marathon tomorrow. It's really not that hard." I'm thinking to myself- What?? So of course, boys being boys, Chris asks, "Why wait until tomorrow, why not right now? There is a treadmill downstairs."

This is when it got a bit over-the-top. The next thing I know, the fellow is wearing a pair of Chris's running shorts, and Chris and the other guy are offering him $100 each if he can run 13 miles right then and there. "We won't even worry about the .1 if you can do 13 miles," Chris blurts out. Within seconds the three guys are out the door.

I expected to hear them come back in within ten to fifteen minutes but it was close to 3:00AM when the front door opened. This guy, untrained, barefooted, drunk, ran 13 miles at midnight and got $200 in the process. But, I got my iPod back too, since Chris had time to kill, sitting in a deserted gym- so the way I see it we didn't really loose $100- since we returned my new iPod and armband, which totalled over $200 anyway.

But now I'm wondering why those four miles I ran last night at 7:30 were really that hard. Because, they felt a little hard.

Life is fun. And funny, and I'm thankful today for a husband who is a little silly and a little extreme and a lot of what I need. His easygoing approach to life keeps me in check!

...and a smoking caterpillar

I bought my tickets on Fandango to see Alice in Wonderland this Sunday-IMAX 3D- and I'm very excited! I noticed when I was purchasing my tickets that the movie's PG rating was given due to: scary situations, scary images, fantasy action violence and a smoking caterpillar. I pictured a checklist with each item: "sexual content," "violence," "drug use," "smoking caterpillar" - check.

I love the book and the animated film. The way the caterpillar billows, "Whoooo are youuuu?" and that creepy Cheshire Cat's glowing moon of a smile. And that Queen with all of her girth. I really can't wait to see the movie this weekend.

And just for those that are wondering- it is not Spring in New York City yet. It's still winter, it's still in the 30's when I step out the door to go to work in the morning and when I return home. I am still wearing my sleeping bag of a coat. Tights are still required as well as scarves and gloves. In spite of the many, bare "summer legs"(as Chris likes to call them) I have seen today alone, it is not warm enough to parade up and down the sidewalks in peep-toes and stocking-less feet. It's winter. Just because Banana Republic has chinos in their window displays and Easter candy is in abundance at CVS and Origins is offering their newest shade of lip gloss- Sizzling Summer- it ain't warm yet, so put the cashmere back on!

I hear/ read that today in Texas it is 68, and even though I prefer where I am now, I must admit I would love a little 68 degrees for just a few hours. Saturday I WILL RUN outside. Yes, I will. Yesterday, in between work and choir rehearsal I went by the running store and bought some warm running wear- which I know I can wear well into Spring. That stuff is expensive you guys and I'd much rather buy running shorts. But, as much as it hurt to drop $40 on running pants I know I will get good use out of them. I also got a fabulous Adidas hoodie/ sweat whisking/ zipper-front jacket. I love that it is white and lime green and that it was on sale and it has those holes in the sleeves (by the wrists) where your thumbs can go through. That is so cool. I hope this running thing sticks- after the 1/2 marathon. I'm enjoying it more and more. But I still got my curves. Why is it that the boobies get smaller, but the saddlebags- they are consistent?

Yesterday after I left work my day got much better. From 6pm-midnight about a million things happened and lots of laughs were had and stories were told and I lived a really good life from 6pm-midnight. Even walking through Grand Central Station to my train after work I heard someone yell out, " Hey, S.A." and I knew it was Shirley. She calls me S.A. for Stefani Ann and I call her S.A. for Shirley Ann. But we say it with a Spanish accent, so it sounds more like "ese." I think it's hilarious that when I heard this hollered through GCS I knew it was intended for me, a white girl in ballet flats.

After a great choir rehearsal, I had wine and celebrated with friends and when I got home at 10:30pm Chris had a couple of guys over, and they never cease to make me laugh. I'm thankful for late nights and funny stories and all that is peculiar in life from time to time.

If I believed in astrology I might say it had to do with the Earth's rotation or the gravitational pull or the heaviness & anticipation of the coming of Spring felt in all living things right now. I don't really know, but when people in a close community are going through the same things- emotions, changes, hindrances, Big Bad Dark voices of the past- all within a few days of each other, I think it's a God thing. I think that's why two bottles of Merlot and prayer with people who know me well are necessary from time to time; in order to live a more abundant life than simply staying afloat.

I need (another) vacation

Or a Christian counselor.
Or a large squishy chair in front of a roaring fire- book in hand
Or a day at the spa
Or a weekend road trip to.... anywhere that I can drive to
Or a new bright blue sundress- with a wide sash that ties in the back
Or a bottle of vintage wine
Or a cupcake
Or a hour away from the desk!

In spite of doubling up on my Vitamin D this morning, my heart feels heavy. I have a hunger so strong that 64 ounces of water and bag of Soy Crisps can not make the pangs cease. What's the deal? I got 8 hours of sleep, my endorphin fix, had a good breakfast with egg-whites, cottage cheese and a slice of lunch meat. I even had an extra cup of coffee this morning.

I want some time with my sharpies and journal. I want some time with a big poster board, Elmers rubber cement, a pair of scissors and lots of words and images cut from magazines and old text books and literary journals.

I'm really not mentally ill. I'm just experiencing a bad case of Cabin Fever where, I hate to admit, nothing excites me, nothing intrigues me and nothing seems to make me want to do, well, much of anything. I can't live like this, I do realize, and for the most part I don't. I power through! I mean, I'm up and at the gym by 6:00AM, in the shower, packing lunches and going to work. But I tried to get Chris to "call in" with me this morning. However, since today (and tomorrow) are his school's Performance Review --- he quickly shut down that alternative, lest I lure him into my scheme...

I realize that one's own happiness is a personal choice, somewhat. Alot in life we can not control. But smiling, laughing, keeping my mouth shut, admitting failure- these are things that I can choose to do- or not.

I recently read that a polling agency asked 1,000 people what they most desired in their lives. One fascinating result was that 90 percent of Bible-believing Christians said that they wanted these outcomes: a close relationship with God, a clear purpose in life, a high degree of integrity, and a deep commitment to the faith. Notice that these heartfelt desires are all things we as individuals can do something about without outside human help. Why are we so often our own worst enemy, or is that just me? I realize that I am the deterrence, the hindrance, the negative voice keeping me from achieving what it is I want to achieve.

Our Half Marathon is one month from today. After completing almost nine miles on Saturday, however, I am feeling much better about finishing thirteen miles. And I've actually followed my daily running plan/ regimen each day since.

((LUNCH HOUR))

OK- I told myself I would not feel guilty for indulging in a white cupcake with butter cream icing following my cup of vegetable soup on my lunch break. And I'm really trying hard not to. As much as my taste buds loved it, the load of sugar I just dumped into my stomach is making my tummy a little rumbly. But it was good and I chose to eat it. And I will not feel guilty. Or sad. Or like I am less of a person. Because I know I will not put on five pounds overnight for eating one cupcake.

Come on Spring Time. SAVE ME!!

Aren't you worth more than they?

If I had the time to do the things I say I really want to do, would I really do them? (Didn't someone say this before?- There never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. So melancholy, someone pour a glass of red wine and light the candles.) Like reading more, writing more, creating things with my hands or learning a new skill or activity. Would I stroke the keys of the piano again, or try to finish any work by Jane Austen? Because so often I think when I do have time to do these simple, relaxing "just for me" things, I choose to clean the kitchen sink with Comet instead.

I've been working hard to find ten or fifteen minutes of me time daily. And this shouldn't be hard, but I'm usually doing some mindless thing instead. SO... I've started reading Anthony Bourdain's book, Kitchen Confidential and even though I'm hardly into the first chapter, I love it. I like Anthony though, I like his show on the Travel Channel. So his rugged, realness doesn't shock me or offend. He's just human. And in my quest to do odd things that make me happy, I've continued to cut out bits and pieces and hope to create something at some point. I told Chris the other day that even though it seemed very 19-year-old-girl-living-in-a-dorm-room I may just buy a piece of poster board to glue and tape and make a collage.

Sometimes I feel like the things that matter the most in this short life I let slip through the cracks. Slowing down- experiencing anything. I long for simplicity sometimes, for fewer options and less things. (However I am thankful for Coke Zero with cherry- When did this happen? I just discovered it today at Ride Aid on my lunch hour!)

I want to cherish my time with my amazing husband. We have been so blessed and it's just us and we can do and go and buy (or not buy) as we please and I don't want to look back ten years and two kids later and say, "We really had it great then." I want to appreciate each day, each breath, each opportunity. I want only ask for my Daily Bread and not my Christmas list from God each day.

Yesterday, with my Samoas, Tagalongs and Trefoils in tow I stopped at The Healthfood Store for my healthy junk food- Soy Crisps (140 calories a bag and 10 grams of soy protein, Yum.) When I arrived home I had received a small box from my mom with a valentine treat. However, what was sweeter still was the necklace that my 12-year-old brother had picked out and sent along for me. It's a silver snowflake and on the back in tiny letters it reads, "You make me smile." It's a sister charm. I cherish everything he gives me; which probably has something to do with the fact that I was seventeen when he was born and I'm more like cool aunt that lives far away than a sister. I'm realizing he will be thirteen this year. And I will be thirty. Oh, where does the time go? But time itself is a man-made thing, a tool of measure that we place on life. God knows no time, no beginning or end. I really like that.

Following some tomato soup, an episode of Bones, and some journaling Chris and I turned in pretty early. The moon shown so bright through the kitchen window as I prepared the coffee for the next morning. Glowing like a solitary headlight- beams reflecting off the East River. At about 3:00AM I rolled over to see it illuminating our entire bedroom, now on it's way around the earth again. It appeared so massive. And I like seeing the moon at night like this.

It's as if I am the only one awake- experiencing this moment. The moon reminds me that I am still on planet Earth, even though sometimes it feels so surreal here in NYC. Even though I hardly ever leave this little island, this overwhelming large island, of Manhattan. It fills me with hope, it reassures me that God is God and I am not, that it's not about me, but it's about the one that created me and the moon and the glasses on my nightstand that I reach aimlessly for at 3:00AM that help me see the night sky outside my window.

I do realize that I am odd. That I'm the kind of person that re-uses plastic baggies (I put carrots in my carrot baggie each day and saltines in my saltine baggie) for two or three days. I can not go to sleep with dirty mugs or glasses on the coffee table. Sometime I go to the ladies room at work just to walk away from my desk and do a few stretches- in the ladies room. And all sauces, dressings and gravies- "on the side, please." But my mom would wake us up in the middle of the night to see meteor showers or to make it to the blueberry orchards by 6:00AM to pick buckets of berries before the 100 degree temperatures hit. My mom popped popcorn in a popcorn popper. My mom was really odd. (She has a vitamin basket!)

I wish that I could see myself as my Creator sees me. Aren't I worth more than they?

Happy 27th Birthday, Middle Sister.

Chrissy, the one who loves all things chocolate, (As do I, just for the record.) turns 27 today, March 1st. However, Chrissy has never professed to be someone who is healthy or has she ever gone on a diet as far as I can recall. ("You can overdose on vitamins", she tells our mother.) She simply does what the rest of us should do: eats what her body's hungry for when her body's hungry for it- which I'm pretty sure includes a piece of chocolate every day.

Chrissy is short for Christina, and she's the only Chrissy I know. I like it. Sort of ditsy and fun in that Three's Company sort of way. Today she is a pharmacist, so ditsy and fun may not be the best character traits of choice, as they would be for someone who is a writer... or a stripper.

I'm pretty sure she still goes by Chrissy, to her peers, employees and patrons at her pharmacy- but she wears suit jackets or blazers to work in order to appear more mature. And high heels to add a little more power to the job that must be so hard to do- especially when I would dare so a vast majority of her patients are older than our parents. "No really, I AM the pharmacist."

Before Chrissy, I was the only child. For three whole years. Not that I remember it. Chrissy was born at home, by midwife, in Plano, Texas. She got pneumonia when she was very young, which I knew little about at the time. I knew that mom was gone and Chrissy was sick.

When she was born, she had more hair than I did. Her hair was thick and grew rapidly. When Chrissy's hair was so long it got in the toilet, my mom chopped about 6" off right then and there. Chrissy also slept walked and my parents put a special lock on our front door that only adults could unlock. I hated that lock especially early on Saturday mornings.

Chrissy was the pickiest eater growing up. Not that she was really picky, she would eat whatever: broccoli, peas, Chinese stir fry- BUT only if she was in the mood for it. If she wasn't up for grilled cheese and split pea soup then she just wouldn't eat it. Period. There were two things that I am convinced she would have lived on: "Crackers and Cheese" or "Rice with Sprinkles." But, occasionally, she'd rather throw a tantrum at the dinner table demanding Rice and Sprinkles than eat lasagna (which I begged her to do--"just three bites" being the older, wiser sister) which usually ended in a coughing, gagging, snotty fit. Drama Queen.

Chrissy had a lisp, which improved with time and therapy, however, as children I was often the only one who could understand her. I'd have to translate for our parents, our neighbor and friends at church. I never had a problem understanding her.

She was the lean one, the gymnast, "skinny mini" and in high school broke state records in power lifting. She made cheerleader, I believe, due to her amazing tumbling ability and even played softball for one year because she was such a strong hitter. Unlike me, Chrissy is not a singer or writer or performer, but paints and draws and has a love for animals. (Again, unlike me.)

As a child she had a lop-eared rabbit and would spend hours outdoors with our dogs and cats- riding her bike or jumping on the trampoline. She always wanted to "race" me, on foot or bike, which did not appeal to me whatsoever. Why? She'd win, and I'd be winded and sweaty. Not appealing.

Now, she is a pharmacist who works her ass off. Sometimes skipping lunch, sometimes falling asleep on her sofa at 7:00pm, sometimes refusing to fill a prescription. She loves to shop and gives me her old clothes- which aren't really old at all but just "fit wrong" are the "wrong color" or are too tight, too loose, too short, or too long. She can line dance, bake delicious sugar cookies from scratch, and loves to vacuum.

I'm so lucky to have two amazing sisters, and today I celebrate Chrissy. (Perhaps with some chocolate of my own...)