I'm trying to be somewhat on a schedule with my blogging...I'm really wanting this to be an outlet for me, and maybe even help others realize there are other people out there with the same, or similar, questions or thoughts. It's just not always easy figuring out what is on my mind. I'm a pregnant mother of a 2 year old with a house I -attempt- to maintain and a job with clients to juggle. I'm not always deep, but am often deep in it. I try to chant my mantra (from sweet Professor Bhaer in Little Women), "Write what you know..." but what do I know at this moment?
Very little.
So. Instead I'm going to ask some questions...which are directed at myself as well as those who may stumble across this lil blog. Life questions. Death questions. Questions about what you believe, if you believe, and why you believe it. In my last post about my beloved grandpa, I stated clearly what I believe which is known as the Apostle's Creed. The word "believe" doesn't always feel right to me when discussing God, is He or isn't He, and the afterlife....it's more of a trust issue. In my opinion, to trust is to have a willingness to be vulnerable, and requires complete faith. To believe, on the other hand, is to accept something as fact, but doesn't necessarily mean that you trust it. After all, people believe/accept that Jesus existed, but that doesn't mean that they trust who He said He is.
I often wrestle with the inner question of "What if I hadn't been born into a Christian home?"....I've struggled with this one for years. I feel that the basis of my belief system is that, yes, I was raised that way. (non-believers love that response, but hang on) My parents had us in church every time the doors were opened. I was brought up Southern Baptist, got out of church-going for a few years, suffered a great loss that pushed me even farther from the doors (let alone altar), and then I started dating, and eventually married, a hottie Methodist. Now that I'm "back in" so-to-speak, I question whether I'd fully accept what I believe if I had a Jewish upbringing or Muslim....or nothing. And then even as I think that, Proverbs 22:6 pops to mind (don't get excited, I totally had to google it), "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is older he will not part from it."
Was I destined to be a Christian? Stop the crazy, John Calvin, I don't believe OR trust in predestination...but I do believe we all are given the exact same choice (to accept Christ or not). I also feel that maybe I had an unfair advantage??? Yikes. Now I feel very deep in it, yet again. It's harder, I would think, to turn against something you've been taught by your parents, grandparents, and circle of friends your whole life vs just falling in line with what they believe. At some point, I had to accept their guidance. At some point, I had to do my own research. At some point, I had to find my own faith. At some point, I had to trust in what I personally believe, yes.....but I worry about those who weren't brought up in church. Jesus says that we should all come to Him like children...."the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these" Matthew 19:14 (again props to google)....are all new Christians child-like in their belief and eagerness/willingness to accept? I feel like as a child, I believed easily like a child does...but the older I became, the harder it was to trust in that belief (1 Corinthians 13:11....) How can an adult, with all that life bitterness strangling him, really come to Jesus without any kind of childhood guidance as discussed in Proverbs 22:6? How can someone, whose entire family may believe otherwise, turn to Christianity where it clearly, plainly, and simply states, "No one comes to the Father but my me." John 14:6 Yes, these things keep me awake at night....
Then to add to the craziness of all that, I stumbled across a little documentary on Netflix a few months ago....that really addressed all of my core issues through 4 college aged guys. It's called Beware of Christians and I highly suggest you check it out, or at least look here (the last speech given by the kinda goofy guy, could have been written by me...just what I think about). Christianity is more than just believing. It's about obeying, it's about doing as we are commanded by our Father. We are supposed to love others, take care of orphans, widows, the least of these. It's not about accepting everyone for every decision they make, but about loving them and showing as much of God's grace to them as we humanly can. It's not about sitting in a church pew, walking up at the altar call, raising our hands (or not) during worship songs. It's not just about a profession of faith but about going out and making disciples, teaching them to obey all He has commanded. (it's called the great commission, people...check it out)
I came back to church and to God and found my trust in Him because something in my soul was begging me to come back...begging me to return....God was pulling and nagging and saying, "Here I am! I am with you, always! I have plans for you! You are more than what you are now!"...does everyone feel that? Does everyone feel like something is missing?? Is that why this whole planet turns to the most random of things to try and make themselves whole? Is that why there are a billion different religions? Is that why it is so hard to believe and have trust in God? Because it's so hard to believe in someone so awesome, so much bigger than ourselves, who loves us?
Maybe..... -sigh-
Monday, February 25, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Suddenly Sad....
What a crap day.
I'll never fully understand how we can always be so shocked and stunned by something that we as humans know will eventually come for us all. We cannot escape death, yet when it happens to one we love, it is often met with surprise, disbelief, and time spent using the word "surreal"...I'm 31 years old and just experienced the death of my grandfather. Why is that so shocking? Why am I so stunned, confused, and lost?
There are so many words I could use to describe how I feel at this moment, at the end of this day that started falling apart at 9:07 this morning when my mom called to let me know that my grandpa was "unresponsive" and they "couldn't find his pulse." The only true word to encompass all of my soul right now is sad. I am so sad. My heart hurts. My body feels weak. I have a headache. I know the next few weeks are going to be more of this, so I'm trying to walk slowly into this pool of sorrow, but at the moment I feel like I dived in. Tomorrow I fear I will feel like I'm drowning.......
My grandpa, Dr. Earl Joiner Bentley, is my dad's da. He comes from very humble beginnings in a small town in Alabama. He's been married to the same beautiful woman, my grandma, for over 60 years. Their home has been the one constant "home" in my life. It's so weird knowing he will never be back there. It's so weird remembering all the things he used to do there with ease--crack walnuts in winter, make a fire so hot the candles would start to melt, open our oranges with his teeth, grab us and show us how a mule eats corn (so painful, yet so hilarious), work in his garden, chase away the deer, mow his yard, sit on the front porch and wave and say hello to all who walked by....normal stuff. Some may know him as a great man who helped a lot of people get an education or a job....I just know him as grandpa: giver of piggy back rides, hander-outer of $25 in quarters, who'd spray you down with "stinkum" (aka: strong men's cologne) if you weren't fast enough to run away. He loved to make up nicknames for people. I had the most-"lindy crux" "cruxy" or the ever-popular "lomax"...he always would ask a waitress what football team she played on or if they served cow tongue. He'd stop and talk to anyone...and would remember everyone. He loved to laugh and to make others laugh and smile with him. I'm smiling typing this.....
My grandpa wasn't a perfect man, but he was everything you'd really want a grandpa to be: playful, giving, honest, sincere...an example. His marriage is one to be envied. I remember after one of his hip surgeries going back with my grandma to his recovery room because I had to leave but I wanted to say goodbye....we got in there and immediately they were talking, whispering their "I love you"s, and as I watched with tears in my eyes over their absolute sweetness, I suddenly felt like an intruder, like I shouldn't be there. I quickly said I'd see them later and that I was glad he was ok and left. My grandpa loved her so dearly....when I was little I always wanted to sleep with them when staying overnight...his nighttime routine consisted of telling grandma, "love you, sweet"...more precious that I can express.
I'm so thankful that I had thirty one years with my grandpa. Not a lot of people can say that. In my life I have known and loved 3 great-grandmothers, 1 great-grandfather, and all four of my grandparents. I can even remember one very special great great grandmother. Blessed is not a big enough word. I was 24 before losing a single grandparent. Losing my sweet granny was like a bullet to the chest. She had been sick for a long time and I should have been more prepared, but I wasn't. I was spoiled. I was spoiled with the same wonderful people always in my life. I had never known life without any of them, so how could I imagine it? I couldn't.
Death will come for us all. It shouldn't simply because we are not meant to be separated from each other. God did not want death...He did not want us to be sad and hurting and grieving. He does not want to be separated from us. But here we are....this is how it is until our Savior's return. I do not believe my grandpa or my granny are looking down over me and my family. I do not believe they became my guardian angels. I believe to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord and I believe that their time without us is like a blink of an eye to them. They do not think to miss us....how could Heaven be perfect if you had a moment to miss your family and friends? I believe they were greeted by those who went before them, I believe they were welcomed with open arms by our Creator, I believe their bodies will never fail them again, they are enjoying the splendor of the King, and that I will see them again.
I am so sad. So very, very sad. My heart aches. My soul screams out in pain. But I will rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say REJOICE, because this horrible, unfathomable, unspeakable, surreal pain will not last forever. I will be greeted by my family when my time comes. I will see my precious friends whom I miss. I will fall at the feet of Jesus because I know this to be true: My God will never leave me nor forsake me. I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord: who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; the third day he rose from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic* church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
Grandpa...thank you for everything. I love you so very much. I take comfort knowing how much you loved me. Colt and your newest great-grandchild will hear some amazing stories. We are a blessed family because of the foundation you laid. Love you.
All my love,
Lomax
I'll never fully understand how we can always be so shocked and stunned by something that we as humans know will eventually come for us all. We cannot escape death, yet when it happens to one we love, it is often met with surprise, disbelief, and time spent using the word "surreal"...I'm 31 years old and just experienced the death of my grandfather. Why is that so shocking? Why am I so stunned, confused, and lost?
There are so many words I could use to describe how I feel at this moment, at the end of this day that started falling apart at 9:07 this morning when my mom called to let me know that my grandpa was "unresponsive" and they "couldn't find his pulse." The only true word to encompass all of my soul right now is sad. I am so sad. My heart hurts. My body feels weak. I have a headache. I know the next few weeks are going to be more of this, so I'm trying to walk slowly into this pool of sorrow, but at the moment I feel like I dived in. Tomorrow I fear I will feel like I'm drowning.......
My grandpa, Dr. Earl Joiner Bentley, is my dad's da. He comes from very humble beginnings in a small town in Alabama. He's been married to the same beautiful woman, my grandma, for over 60 years. Their home has been the one constant "home" in my life. It's so weird knowing he will never be back there. It's so weird remembering all the things he used to do there with ease--crack walnuts in winter, make a fire so hot the candles would start to melt, open our oranges with his teeth, grab us and show us how a mule eats corn (so painful, yet so hilarious), work in his garden, chase away the deer, mow his yard, sit on the front porch and wave and say hello to all who walked by....normal stuff. Some may know him as a great man who helped a lot of people get an education or a job....I just know him as grandpa: giver of piggy back rides, hander-outer of $25 in quarters, who'd spray you down with "stinkum" (aka: strong men's cologne) if you weren't fast enough to run away. He loved to make up nicknames for people. I had the most-"lindy crux" "cruxy" or the ever-popular "lomax"...he always would ask a waitress what football team she played on or if they served cow tongue. He'd stop and talk to anyone...and would remember everyone. He loved to laugh and to make others laugh and smile with him. I'm smiling typing this.....
My grandpa wasn't a perfect man, but he was everything you'd really want a grandpa to be: playful, giving, honest, sincere...an example. His marriage is one to be envied. I remember after one of his hip surgeries going back with my grandma to his recovery room because I had to leave but I wanted to say goodbye....we got in there and immediately they were talking, whispering their "I love you"s, and as I watched with tears in my eyes over their absolute sweetness, I suddenly felt like an intruder, like I shouldn't be there. I quickly said I'd see them later and that I was glad he was ok and left. My grandpa loved her so dearly....when I was little I always wanted to sleep with them when staying overnight...his nighttime routine consisted of telling grandma, "love you, sweet"...more precious that I can express.
I'm so thankful that I had thirty one years with my grandpa. Not a lot of people can say that. In my life I have known and loved 3 great-grandmothers, 1 great-grandfather, and all four of my grandparents. I can even remember one very special great great grandmother. Blessed is not a big enough word. I was 24 before losing a single grandparent. Losing my sweet granny was like a bullet to the chest. She had been sick for a long time and I should have been more prepared, but I wasn't. I was spoiled. I was spoiled with the same wonderful people always in my life. I had never known life without any of them, so how could I imagine it? I couldn't.
Death will come for us all. It shouldn't simply because we are not meant to be separated from each other. God did not want death...He did not want us to be sad and hurting and grieving. He does not want to be separated from us. But here we are....this is how it is until our Savior's return. I do not believe my grandpa or my granny are looking down over me and my family. I do not believe they became my guardian angels. I believe to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord and I believe that their time without us is like a blink of an eye to them. They do not think to miss us....how could Heaven be perfect if you had a moment to miss your family and friends? I believe they were greeted by those who went before them, I believe they were welcomed with open arms by our Creator, I believe their bodies will never fail them again, they are enjoying the splendor of the King, and that I will see them again.
I am so sad. So very, very sad. My heart aches. My soul screams out in pain. But I will rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say REJOICE, because this horrible, unfathomable, unspeakable, surreal pain will not last forever. I will be greeted by my family when my time comes. I will see my precious friends whom I miss. I will fall at the feet of Jesus because I know this to be true: My God will never leave me nor forsake me. I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord: who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; the third day he rose from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic* church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
Grandpa...thank you for everything. I love you so very much. I take comfort knowing how much you loved me. Colt and your newest great-grandchild will hear some amazing stories. We are a blessed family because of the foundation you laid. Love you.
All my love,
Lomax
Monday, February 11, 2013
All I know here is that I have always been fascinated by writing. It may take me a minute to get into a good book, but once I do I am enraptured not only by the story itself, but in the way the author was able to pull me into the character's lives. I get drawn in gradually, slowly...in a calculated way that even if the story is bad, I cannot put the book down until I've finished. It's a sickness, but one I hope will propel me down the path I think was placed in front of me long ago.
When I was in the fourth grade, I began reading The Little House on the Prairie series. Oh what I wouldn't have given to be Laura Ingalls (I had no clue about outdoor bathrooms, obviously, but I thought her cornbread and beans sounded amazing). In fact, at the end of 4th grade we were given the choice to be a historical character to do research on all year. At the end of our 5th grade year, we had to give a HUGE presentation where we actually were the person we had spent so much time researching. Also loving to perform in front of people, this was my kinda project, and I *knew* I was meant to be Laura Ingalls Wilder. We had our pick of 3 from a list of authors, first ladies, etc. If I could have, I would have suicided LIW, but instead I chose:
1-Laura Ingalls Wilder, duh
2-Louisa May Alcott ( June Allison's version of Little Women made me love Laurie)
3-Annie Oakley (I had watched a movie on Annie Oakley over the previous summer, and none of the first lady options interested me)
Can we talk about how I ended up with my THIRD CHOICE!? Holy crap. No one was more disappointed than my 9 year old self. No one. Annie Oakley?? No one even knew who she was! She inspired nothing out of me....I remember coming home from school and asking my mother if anything interesting would ever happen in my life so I could write a book like LAURA INGALLS WILDER. Never did I ever say, "yeah so I wanna shoot a gun." Ever.Ever.
Devastation filled my poor heart for a few weeks. I saw the girls who had "won" the chance to be Laura and I envied them and knew I would have done a better job. Ugh. Disappointment is an evil wench. However, over the summer and the coming months, I began to love Annie Oakley. She had a natural ability that no women, and few men, had at the time. She was able to draw crowds and travel the world with this skill. She was respected and admired. She had books written about her, movies and musicals were performed about her life (although seriously inaccurate...she was a quiet Quaker, far from the loud-mouth broad she was portrayed as in Annie Get Your Gun....I do love that one, however, in spite of myself). By the end of the project, I had formed a fierce and protective bond with Annie. A few nights before my final presentation, I cried in the bathtub. My mom came in and asked what was wrong. I could not stop wailing and was inconsolable. Finally, I confessed to my dad: "Annie Oakley....is DEAD!!!!" I would never see her perform, get to meet her, or tell her how truly amazing I thought she was. I would never tell her that I was so glad I had to research her life vs boring ol Laura. It's a hard pill to swallow, the death of your inspiration. -sigh-
However, I was able to tell both of my 5th grade classes about her and how awesome she was....all the tricks she could do, her husband who she out-shot, how she traveled and did her shows before royalty....and I even ended it with a trick of my own. My teacher, sweet and encouraging Mrs. Lambert, was my "volunteer" to have a straw shot out of her mouth. I did it in one shot, just like Annie (albeit with an air gun, and with her spitting it out on cue) It was a hit. Not only did it wow and confuse all who saw it (you wouldn't believe the "how'd you DO that?!" questions I received afterwards), but it encouraged me to just go with it. No, I hadn't been given my first (or second) choice, but what I was given was something better. It's weird what sticks with you.
I still want to have an amazing life to write about like Laura. I still want to have an amazing skill like Annie and be able to travel the world and be awesome. I also want to be an amazing wife and fabulous mother.
The past few years have really put the wammy on me about what God wants for me. Writing has been in my heart for a while, since 4th grade. (arg that's 22 years...really?) Performing has been in my heart longer (yes, I'm 31. Let's all be ok with it) I'm told to believe in my gifts and that God gave them to me for His purpose. I'm told that He will use them through me. I also know I'm vain and egotistical, but also scared and intimidated and don't think I'm all that awesome. However, (however!) I'm attempting to embrace my gifts. I'm wanting to use them to glorify Him. I'm wanting to say "yes absoultely" to everything that may not be my first choice vs "wah wah wah".....I'm wanting the love that I feel every Sunday at church, that intense feeling of love and power from the Holy Spirit, to stay with me through Saturday so that I can be the hands and feet like we are all called as Christians to be.
I want that Sunday Kind of Love at church to reach out to those I come in contact with on a daily basis. Maybe this is the avenue....no, it's not a 900 page novel that inspires a movement (or even a t-shirt, dangit), but it's something. And it's me obeying, believe it or not.
When I was in the fourth grade, I began reading The Little House on the Prairie series. Oh what I wouldn't have given to be Laura Ingalls (I had no clue about outdoor bathrooms, obviously, but I thought her cornbread and beans sounded amazing). In fact, at the end of 4th grade we were given the choice to be a historical character to do research on all year. At the end of our 5th grade year, we had to give a HUGE presentation where we actually were the person we had spent so much time researching. Also loving to perform in front of people, this was my kinda project, and I *knew* I was meant to be Laura Ingalls Wilder. We had our pick of 3 from a list of authors, first ladies, etc. If I could have, I would have suicided LIW, but instead I chose:
1-Laura Ingalls Wilder, duh
2-Louisa May Alcott ( June Allison's version of Little Women made me love Laurie)
3-Annie Oakley (I had watched a movie on Annie Oakley over the previous summer, and none of the first lady options interested me)
Can we talk about how I ended up with my THIRD CHOICE!? Holy crap. No one was more disappointed than my 9 year old self. No one. Annie Oakley?? No one even knew who she was! She inspired nothing out of me....I remember coming home from school and asking my mother if anything interesting would ever happen in my life so I could write a book like LAURA INGALLS WILDER. Never did I ever say, "yeah so I wanna shoot a gun." Ever.Ever.
Devastation filled my poor heart for a few weeks. I saw the girls who had "won" the chance to be Laura and I envied them and knew I would have done a better job. Ugh. Disappointment is an evil wench. However, over the summer and the coming months, I began to love Annie Oakley. She had a natural ability that no women, and few men, had at the time. She was able to draw crowds and travel the world with this skill. She was respected and admired. She had books written about her, movies and musicals were performed about her life (although seriously inaccurate...she was a quiet Quaker, far from the loud-mouth broad she was portrayed as in Annie Get Your Gun....I do love that one, however, in spite of myself). By the end of the project, I had formed a fierce and protective bond with Annie. A few nights before my final presentation, I cried in the bathtub. My mom came in and asked what was wrong. I could not stop wailing and was inconsolable. Finally, I confessed to my dad: "Annie Oakley....is DEAD!!!!" I would never see her perform, get to meet her, or tell her how truly amazing I thought she was. I would never tell her that I was so glad I had to research her life vs boring ol Laura. It's a hard pill to swallow, the death of your inspiration. -sigh-
However, I was able to tell both of my 5th grade classes about her and how awesome she was....all the tricks she could do, her husband who she out-shot, how she traveled and did her shows before royalty....and I even ended it with a trick of my own. My teacher, sweet and encouraging Mrs. Lambert, was my "volunteer" to have a straw shot out of her mouth. I did it in one shot, just like Annie (albeit with an air gun, and with her spitting it out on cue) It was a hit. Not only did it wow and confuse all who saw it (you wouldn't believe the "how'd you DO that?!" questions I received afterwards), but it encouraged me to just go with it. No, I hadn't been given my first (or second) choice, but what I was given was something better. It's weird what sticks with you.
I still want to have an amazing life to write about like Laura. I still want to have an amazing skill like Annie and be able to travel the world and be awesome. I also want to be an amazing wife and fabulous mother.
The past few years have really put the wammy on me about what God wants for me. Writing has been in my heart for a while, since 4th grade. (arg that's 22 years...really?) Performing has been in my heart longer (yes, I'm 31. Let's all be ok with it) I'm told to believe in my gifts and that God gave them to me for His purpose. I'm told that He will use them through me. I also know I'm vain and egotistical, but also scared and intimidated and don't think I'm all that awesome. However, (however!) I'm attempting to embrace my gifts. I'm wanting to use them to glorify Him. I'm wanting to say "yes absoultely" to everything that may not be my first choice vs "wah wah wah".....I'm wanting the love that I feel every Sunday at church, that intense feeling of love and power from the Holy Spirit, to stay with me through Saturday so that I can be the hands and feet like we are all called as Christians to be.
I want that Sunday Kind of Love at church to reach out to those I come in contact with on a daily basis. Maybe this is the avenue....no, it's not a 900 page novel that inspires a movement (or even a t-shirt, dangit), but it's something. And it's me obeying, believe it or not.
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