Signing

I've been learning ASL (American Sign Language) recently. Tonight we signed in church for the first time. Well it was my first time anyway. The rest of the class signed about a month ago. I went in expecting to sign only the Lord's prayer...We ended up signing to two other songs as well. It was an interesting experience.

I feel very self conscious when I sign in front of people. I am speaking a language I don't fully understand and I'm afraid of messing up and offending someone. I want to sign. I can't dance but signing feels natural. Its a way to communicate with the Lord without being distracted by the sound of my own voice. This is probably why I write my prayers as well. Perhaps that is why I feel so odd signing in front of an audience. Like a prayer language, signing for me is between me and God. I feel exposed when I am signing in front of an audience. Like many people feel exposed by being called upon to deliver a public prayer or a testimony. Interesting. Neither of those things intimidate me but signing does. The silence is more intimate somehow. The wordlessness of the communication makes it so.

I learned several new words in my sign vocabulary tonight. I'm reaching the point where I can sign large parts of many contemporary praise songs. It fascinates Harold when I am signing along with the radio in the van.

Our third class begins in two weeks. I can't wait.

Faith and Fear

A little girl of nine and a little boy of seven made my acquaintance today. I have seen them before as I rush to and fro living my overly busy life. They came to my attention earlier this week when they arrived in my yard wanting to play with my daughter. But today I actually stopped and made their acquaintance. I know what took me so long. I know why I turned the other way and pretended not to hear or rushed into the car or into the house to avoid their greetings. I know and I am ashamed.

I distanced myself because I was afraid. Afraid of two children who have done nothing to cause me to fear. Afraid of two children who have committed no crime. I, who sat inside the walls of a prison at a table with women who had commited unspeakable crimes and loved them, was afraid of two children who had done nothing other than being related to someone who was dating a murderer.

Less than a year ago there was a murder in my neighborhood. Three doors down. A woman I knew well was murdered in her own home. By the boyfriend of the teenaged girl that lived in the house across the street. She wasn't implicated in the crime. But that didn't stop me from deciding that everyone in that house was bad news and should be avoided. Then one day these two children. Little children. Little children that I had never noticed before suddenly appeared at that house. I noticed them when they began to call out to my daughter wanting to play with her. For months I put them off with one excuse or another. Then on a beautiful spring day last week I could think of no more excuses. They played together in our back yard. I hoped they would go away. But they seem to enjoy my daughter's company. And she seems to enjoy theirs. And they are polite and say yes mam and no mam when I ask them to do or not do something. And they go home when they're told to. And they seem to be planning to stay. And I realized then that I was afraid. Of children. Of children who have done NOTHING to make them fearful. Afraid because they were somehow tainted by the guilt of the actions of another. And I am ashamed.

Faith and fear can never co-exist. I know this. So how is it that I forgot so quickly the things that I know?

And now that I have confessed the fear I need to come up with a plan. I need a plan to make Desiree and Jerrell fit into my busy life. I need a plan to fight fear with faith and to teach my child how Christ would have us love others. For now school occupies a large part of their days. Desiree is 9, Jerrell 7. But school will be out for the summer soon and I suspect that Desiree and Jerrell will be a part of our days for many of the long lazy days of summer. I can let this be a reason for concern or for celebration. The choice is mine. I choose faith. I choose to love these "other people's kids" and in doing so to make a difference in my neighborhood.

I made the acquaintance of two children today. Desiree and Jerrell. I'm looking forward to seeing where this will lead.

T

Memories of the County Fair

When I was a little girl there was nothing more wonderful than the week the county fair was in town. We lived in a subdivision that sat on a hill overlooking the midway. I remember lying on my stomach at the foot of my bed peering through the curtain at the bright lights of the Ferris wheel.

I remember being allowed to go to the fair alone on “School Day at the Fair” before I was ten years old. I remember having my own money and being responsible for buying my lunch at one of the many booths. My favorite place to eat was the Lions Club booth. They had the best food on the grounds and I knew the people there. Each of the schools had a booth of their own and raised money for special events by the proceeds made each year at the fair.

But School Day had one disadvantage. It was during the day. The midway lost its magic without the colored lights. So we always went as a family at least one night during the fair. Sometimes we went to the Fairest of the Fair pageant but usually we came for the horse show. We walked the midway but didn’t usually ride much. I played a game or two and we got fair food.

Fair food always included two things, cotton candy and a candy apple. I ate the cotton candy. The candy apple was for my mom. No matter what diet she was on there was always room for a candy apple from the fair.

I had an adult cousin that was a “carnie.” She would always let me win at the game booth she ran. I was never very good at the games. Once I blew an entire ten dollars throwing ping-pong balls trying to win a goldfish. The guy finally felt sorry for me and just gave me one. It died two days later. My favorite midway game was “picking up ducks” since there was no way to lose.

Rides were always a challenge. I got motion sick easily and I was afraid of heights so that eliminated most things right there. My favorite ride of all was the tilt-o-whirl. I loved it. The scrambler was a close second. As I got older I began to enjoy riding the paratroopers but I could never learn to love the Ferris wheel no matter how hard I tried. Something about the swaying of the basket and the fact that we were going backwards made me sick every time. As I got older still it was the Himalaya that was the favorite. Riding with the boy I liked and being squished together by the centrifugal force was the teenaged thing to do.

I loved the fair. Perhaps that is why I always return to Sparta for fair week. Eighteen years in Memphis and I can count on one hand the times I’ve missed the White County Fair. My daughter’s birthday usually falls around fair time and we often come home so that she can celebrate with her grandparents and great-grandparents. When we do, we stay for the fair. I can always count on seeing old friends that I haven’t seen in years, or at least since the fair the year before. We have a huge fair here, but it just isn’t the same. So look for me at the fair. Chances are I’ll be there.

Reaction to “A Streetcar Named Desire”

Friday night I attended a production of Tennessee Williams’ “A Streetcar Named Desire” at Theater Memphis. Jason Sullivan, one of my “churchkids” had a significant role in the production and I was there to support him in that. I had seen “Streetcar” before several years ago at the University of Memphis with Dixie Carter in the lead role of Blanche DuBois. I remember being particularly impressed with Dixie’s talent but otherwise I recalled very little about the play. I knew that in one scene Blanche was raped. In that respect I was “prepared” for what I was about to see.

What I was NOT prepared for was the pervasive domestic violence.

In one of the very early scenes of the play there is an argument between Stanley and Stella during a poker game. Stanley becomes enraged and slaps her. She flees the apartment and takes refuge upstairs with her neighbor and landlady Eunice. Stanley is left in the street below screaming her name. Soon she reappears from the apartment above and comes down to where Stanley kneels in the street. He wraps his arms around her and begins the dance of an abusive relationship. The “I’m so sorry baby, did I hurt you? I didn’t mean it,’’ routine. She ends up returning with Stanley to their apartment and to their bed.

I’m seventeen years removed from the “Stanley” in my life. I’ve been happily married for 11 years to a wonderful man that treats me like gold. But I had a physical reaction to what was playing out there on the stage. Even though I knew it was theater, I reacted as if it were real. Every muscle in my body tensed. I’m certain I flinched. Something caused Harold to look my way and when he did he immediately asked “Sweetheart, are you ok?” I was in control. I wasn’t thrown into a flashback like I might have been in the early years of my recovery but I was FAR from Ok. I’m still not sure that I’m ok. Jason was at church today. He asked how I had liked the play. I responded that he was wonderful but that I had forgotten that the storyline involved so much domestic violence and that it had been very difficult. He gave me a hug and to my surprise, I found myself burying my head in his shoulder. On rare occasions I have drawn strength from one of the kids in this way, usually in times of extreme crisis. I am surprised that a play had the power to provoke that kind of reaction within me.

I will never attend a performance of “A Streetcar Named Desire” again.

Emotional Blackmail -- A book review

Recently I've been reading "Emotional Blackmail" by Susan Forward. I started reading it because the subtitle "When the People in Your Life Use Fear, Obligation and Guilt to Manipulate You" describes several relationships I am in right now. I began reading the book seeking advice on how to deal with those people who are emotionally blackmailing me and I found that, but I also found that I am guilty of emotionally blackmailing others. This book has been both liberating and convicting. That for me is the mark of a balanced "self-help" book.

Too much of the self-help genre is written in such a way that it rewards victim status. It is not liberating for the reader but rather a marketing vehicle for the author to encourage the reader to purchase more of their various related products: workbooks, audio tapes, perpetual calendars. An entire industry has grown up around this genre. One of the things I found particularly refreshing about Dr. Forward's book can be summed up in this quote from the introduction to the second section of the book. The section on "Turning Understanding into Action" This is the section in most books where the author tells you you need to attend her seminar, or purchase the companion workbook, or order the video series, or consult a therapist. Dr. Forward does little of that, only recommending a therapist in cases of active emotional or physical abuse or of past child sexual, physical or emotional abuse. To everyone else she says, "It may sound odd for someone who has been a therapist for 25 years to tell you this, but you can do a lot of this work successfully on your own...All you'll need is courage and determination." The steps that she lays out in subsequent chapters are clear and doable and the reader is left with a sense of hope that they have within them the power to change themselves and in so doing to change their situations as well.

I highly recommend this book. It is positive, well-written and encouraging. This is a rare self-help book, one that is actually helpful.

I Gave You Ten

It had been three days since I returned from the spiritual retreat known as “The Walk To Emmaus”. While I had been there I had experienced an amazing healing of memories from having been molested as a child. The wall had dropped and I was willing, finally, to let Christ have that part of me and heal me. But today I was struggling.

I sat at my prayer journal and lamented and whined to God about how awful it was that so many men had been so lousy to me over the course of my thirty-three years and how hard being hurt by men made it for me to trust Him.

His still small voice interrupted my tirade. “Baby-girl, I gave you ten.”

I was brought up short. “You gave me ten? What do you mean you gave me ten?” I asked.

The answer came, “For every man that ever hurt you, I gave you ten.”

Suddenly, like water from behind a dam that had been breeched, the names began to flow. As fast as I could type them they kept coming, one after another. More than half a page later the list of names was complete. Some forty names, listed neatly. Teachers, pastors, male friends, “big brothers”, cousins, uncles, some who’d been in my life for years, some who only crossed my path for a brief time when I was in deep need. Yet there they were. For every man that had ever hurt me there were at least ten names listed. Some were people that I had not thought of in literally years. Some were people that were such a part of the fabric of my life that I could not imagine who I would be without their influences. But there was no denying that for every man that had ever hurt me, God had indeed given me ten.

Rebuked, I began to cry. I had allowed my focus to be on the handful of men that had hurt me. I had blamed God for “letting” them. I’d never seen nor acknowledged the scores of men he had placed in my life that had encouraged me or protected me or lifted me up. For years and years I had held God at arms length using the excuse that “men” weren’t trustworthy so why should I trust a God who identified himself as Father. And yet here it was. Undeniable proof that even as I held him at a distance he sent man after man into my life who blessed me in some way. My heart broke. The final stones in my defensive wall fell down and my complaints turned to praise. It was the only proper response to the God who gave me ten.

Frustrated Co-op Vent

I love my homeschool co-op. I love the kids. I like the other moms. Jessica adores her "school". But I'm seeing some things creeping in as we grow that are more and more like institutional school and I don't like what I am seeing.

Item 1: The "Points" System
In an effort to promote good behavior a points system was instituted this semester. I HATE it. I Hate everything about it. It has NOT done what it was designed to do and it has fostered a sense of competition between the kids that I hate seeing. Yesterday as Becky was announcing the current points standings the kids were not only cheering for their own team (which is fine, be proud of your efforts) but booing the teams that were ahead of them and laughing at the teams that were behind. I HATE seeing that dynamic being encouraged. And within the teams the kids are at each other...Which sadly is part of the purpose of the stupid system, bringing peer pressure to bear on the "offender" in hopes of changing their behavior...and mistakes are being met with strong social disapproval. Again, everything I hate about institutional schooling. In the boys class in particular I see one kid being singled out as the "problem child" and his day yesterday was horrible. It doesn't seem to be affecting my kid. She's in one of the two youngest groups and they don't seem to be getting points deducted as badly and/or don't care where they rank. On the flip side of that one of the classes has been consistently in last place and has basically given up hope of "winning" so they don't care what you do to them points wise. In other words the group this system was put in place to motivate...Doesn't CARE anymore so it doesn't even work. How surprising, NOT!

Item 2: The new "Stair Rule"
Again, the boys class. There is an open stairwell in the building where we meet. The kind with the metal handrail that just begs to be slid down or hung from. Some of the boys (not more than 4 of them) have been hanging from the top landing rail and dropping to the bottom of the stairwell. Is this a problem? Of course it is. I'm not denying that. But the way that has been chosen to deal with it is to make a new blanket rule that no child is allowed on the stairs without an adult. GREAT! Group punishment. My Favorite. (Can you read the dripping sarcasm?) Three or four kids have had a behavioral issue. Rather than dealing with those kids personally and privately over it let's make a blanket rule that treats EVERY child like a three year old. Its absurd.

Item 3: Lunch Prayer
I have blood sugar issues, when I need to eat...I NEED to eat. The RULE is that no-one is to begin eating until we are all gathered an can pray. Not a bad rule per se but one that doesn't work for me...and that I suspect doesn't work for many of the smaller kids that it has been several hours since breakfast. Prayer before meals is a good thing but making 40+ people (mostly kids) wait for the stragglers with food in front of them is NOT. More than once I've gotten a nasty look shot my way when I took care of my physical needs in violation of the rule.

On balance, is it enough for me to leave the group? Doubtful. Jessica loves the other kids and this IS school as far as she is concerned. We basically unschool the rest of the week so it isn't a big issue with her. But it IS a big issue with ME. I recognize that this is MY issue. Things that I personally hated as a child in institutional school (even though I loved school) that I see being imposed on kids who have been opted out of institutional schooling. I also see that MOST of the other moms in this group are probably "school at homers" where we are "unschoolers". The philosophical differences are glaring at times. GBD vs Punitive, School at Home vs Unschooling, Authoritarian vs Authoritative. I have to pray about what to do and how to share what I see without alienating the other moms. Help!

I suppose I should post something that actually requires THOUGHT

I've been thinking a lot lately about relationships. It is after all that time of year. In my Sunday school class we have been discussing Love, Sex and Dating (traditional at our church in February) and I am realizing that so much could be summed up in the single word, RESPECT.

Respect, I thought I knew a long time ago what that word meant. I'm finding that I either didn't or else I am being brought to a new level of understanding. Either way, I am seeing things about myself that I don't like.

Take for example the ease with which I, like most people I know, casually discuss others. Gossip by any other name is STILL gossip. Recently I have begun to take seriously my friends requests of me that they NOT be the topic of conversation. By take seriously, I mean I am hearing that request and acting on it without running it through my mental list of exceptions. For far too long, "don't tell anyone" meant "don't tell anyone except Harold, David, My Mom, Mike, Rebekah, Laura or Stephanie." Rationalizing that "I tell ______ everything" and not caring that the party speaking to me might not know that and might not have shared at such a vulnerable level if they had. Respecting someone means respecting their confidences...Even without a confidentiality clause to force you to do so.

Respect also requires seeing people for themselves rather than in terms of what they are to you. True relationship means loving someone, even when they don't do what you would or what you would like for them to. Anything else isn't a relationship, its an alliance. Alliances are conditional. They last as long as they are mutually beneficial and then can be discarded when they are not. Relationships are deeper than that. They endure when things are not "even" and survive when things are not what you would like them to be. They are based on love, not on if then statements. There is no, "what have you done for me lately", in a true relationship. If I see someone only in terms of what they are to me, I am going to be resentful when others take their time and emotional energy. When I see someone as themselves with their own needs and responsibilities then I can more easily accept that their priorities have NOTHING to do with me. I can ASK for more of their time and tell them that I am missing them and it not be pouting and manipulation. If I feel as though I am entitled to that time and emotional energy that loneliness is likely to come out as resentment and in a way designed to manipulate what I want rather than communicating what I would like. And even if what I am seeing is given in response it is tainted from being forced.

I have at least one friend from whom I need to seek forgiveness. Whom I owe SO much for having stayed and endured when he was getting entitlement and manipulation from me. I owe him a debt of gratitude for not accepting that from me. For knowing that I was capable of better and loving me even while my behavior toward him was anything BUT loving. For believing that I was worth it and that despite what he was seeing for knowing that I truly DO love him. For waiting for me to grow the heck up and stop acting like a spoiled brat. Actually, I have two such friends. And I am amazingly blessed.

T

Political Ramblings

Been thinking a lot about politics lately. I don't understand party politics. I've been debating this on my class BB and It has clarified a LOT about why I always have voted independent. I am registered Republican but only because you had to be SOMETHING to vote in the primaries.

I think that being loyal to a particular party would actually make things easier. Not saying that D’Lo does this (because I’ve debated with him enough to know that he does NOT) but voting party line would make it easier because you REALLY don’t have to think about all this stuff. You just push the button by the person with Democrat by their name (or Republican if you’re of that party) and you’re done. No need to struggle with the ideology of the person if it conflicts with your own.

Basically I have issues with both parties and I can’t seem to overlook them enough to affiliate with either party. I believe in representative government and I want to elect people who most closely represent the things that I value. Sometimes that comes down to a choice of the lesser of two evils, most of the time in fact. Perhaps I feel too strongly about this but in my opinion, voting party without seriously looking into the person is the path to putting the next Hitler or Saddam Hussein into place. I realize that sounds extreme. However, once a person is elected it is THEIR values and beliefs, not those of their political party that will rule the day. I suppose that is why I could never vote a party line.

Like Bruce, I lean Republican because I see them as the party that promotes and rewards initiative and personal responsibility. I am all for social responsibility but see a great deal of what the government is doing (caring for widows and orphans and the poor of this country) as properly the job of the church and once the government took over that function the church washed its hands and said "one less thing for us to do", both institutions have been negatively affected by this and it has bred at least two or three generations that are content to live on handouts. But from D'Lo's side I see the issue of big business being irresponsible corporate citizens and focusing only on the bottom line with the result of American jobs being outsourced overseas. And I think both sides stink on the issue of Life. The Republicans are pro death penalty while the Democrats are pro abortion. So I study the people and see who is most in line with how I feel on particular issues and that is the person I vote for. Period.

T

OMG! The "Butcher of Baghdad" Has Been Captured

The things one learns on Blogger.

I was trying to wake up this morning and reading random blogs when I found the Environmental Republican and saw that the US had succeeded in capturing Saddam Hussein. I thought it a hoax until I ran into the living room to discover the news buzzing with the coverage. Praise God!

My thoughts turn to Eric Johnson and his family and all they have endured, to the service men and women that are away from their families this Christmas season who have had to deal with the constant questioning of purpose from the media. They pulled him from a farm house in Takrit. NOW we know why and how the continued fighting there has been so fierce. He was calling the shots. Perhaps NOW the real rebuilding can finally begin.

I for one am relieved in a way that I never would have been had we not had confirmation that he was either captured and alive (which has been my hope, he should have to stand trial for the atrocities he committed against his people) or dead and identified.

Thank God for our troops and their commitment to doing their jobs.

God Bless the USA,
T

Thus Ends The House Saga

The mortgage company is a bunch of idiots.

They want 85K for a house with extensive interior and exterior damage. Not happening. No way, no how, that is NOT happening.

WHEN it goes into foreclosure we’ll go buy it off the steps of the courthouse for 60K and get on with our efforts. Now we need to focus our efforts on this house. Tomorrow we get a new water heater, ours leaks.

T

The House Saga -- Day 110

Well, its been awhile since I posted about the house saga. It was just stressing me out so I took a mental vacation from worrying about it for awhile.

On the Monday before Thanksgiving (4 days AFTER our last contract was supposed to CLOSE!) we still had not received an answer on said contract (if you're counting that was contract number THREE). So we issued an ultimatum. Either we get an answer by Wednesday or you no longer have an offer. We heard nothing. Then suddenly on Monday of THIS week we get a phone call...They want to check out the repairs we requested...They didn't think the house was in that bad a shape. ARGGH! So we made a counter request...We want to see the house again. We've not been into the house since September. At least one of the repairs we requested (removal of a dead tree) has been done but we don't know what if anything has been done to the interior or the back of the home.

So today at two we go back into the house. Hopefully we will be able to get from the homeowner, the name of the mortgage company and Diane (our buyers agent) will be able to work on them...Since Lee (the listing agent) seems not to care that we are being jerked around for WEEKS at a time with no answer and that with an open offer still out there we can't realistically move on other properties until THIS ONE is resolved. Also, I need to see if I've built this house up in my mind into something it is not and do I still want it.

This has been such a pain in the rear! If I didn't feel so STRONGLY that this is MY HOUSE it would have been over a long time ago. But it is the only house in the price range we want to spend that has the square footage we are looking for in the area we want. There is nothing else out there that compares. Even in the shape its in. So we plod on. Hopefully we'll have an answer soon.

T

My Redneck Friends

Ok, I'm probably not being wise writing this here where the people in question could theoretically stumble across it, but I am so frustrated with the redneck, bigoted, anti-Semitic attitudes that have recently been revealed by some of the people I grew up with! To witt...the whole "The Jews Killed Jesus" crap.

Let's think about this people. If Jesus Christ was God incarnate, it would have been impossible for any mere mortal to kill him. Indeed it WAS impossible for any mere mortal to kill him. Hence him having to give up his spirit while on the cross. Do supposedly Christian people NOT understand that the Cross HAD TO HAPPEN? IT wasn't some tragic cosmic accident that could have been prevented were it not for those horrible Jews wanting Barabbas. Christ was BORN CRUCIFIED. Had it been necessary he would have NAILED HIMSELF to the cross to accomplish his purpose. And make no mistake, the cross WAS his purpose. The JEWS did NOT kill Jesus. I killed Jesus. You killed Jesus. OUR SINS were what put him on that Cross and his compassion was what kept him there. The Sanhedrin were just tools in the hand of God to accomplish his plans and to fulfill the prophecies he made concerning himself. He could have called down LEGIONS of angels to defend him. THE JEWS DID NOT KILL JESUS and the continued insistence that they are somehow more culpable than any other of us sinful people that he LAID DOWN HIS LIFE for is preposterous. Did we learn NOTHING from the holocaust?

I am sure that I have stirred up a storm over on my class BB but dang it I'm tired of this ignorance going unchallenged. Jesus WAS Jewish!

Frustrated! So very discouraged and frustrated by this. When will I learn not to expect anything better from my redneck friends?

T

Published!!!!

If I knew how, I'd change my tagline on my blog, but I don't so I won't. But the fact remains that I've moved from aspiring author to published author. My first submission...MY VERY FIRST that I sent out has been accepted for publication. I am SO excited.

The piece itself is a tribute to an amazing man, Mr. John Harvey Roberts, and a moment of grace that changed my life. I am so hoping that he will like it. It will be published soon by Bethany House in an anthology titled "The Heart of a Teacher" by Wayne Holmes. The title of the piece is "A Gift of Grace".

That it was even sent out into the world at all is tribute to another amazing man, my mentor and dear friend, author Troy D. Smith. Thank you old friend, for believeing in me and for encouraging me to believe in my self. As I find my voice again, I am rediscovering the passion for writing that I thought had long since died. I can't NOT write. I have missed that SO much.

There is so much about this project that just leaves me in awe. That it was my first piece I ever sent out, is virtually unheard of. That it was selected out of hundreds of submissions. That the book is being edited by the author of "Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story" while intimidating was incredibly encouraging since he really didn't rip my story to shreds. Writing my bio. Condensing into 50 words what are the most important things in my life that I want people to know about me. That has a way of focusing one's priorities. I am so blessed.

To those of you, my friends, who read these ponderings and have supported me in so many ways. This is your success as well. You are a blessing in my life and I love you. Hopefully this is the beginning of something beautiful.

Terri

I have the most amazing music teacher in the world

I have been a musician for 25 years. I play 6 instruments ranging in proficiency from beginner level (bass guitar) to having played in a full orchestra (bass clarinet). I have taken years of lessons...Including piano from a guy who performed at Carnegie Hall at 13. But right now I have the most amazing music teacher in the entire world...His name is David and he's been my best friend for 17 years.

In all those years of lessons and all those years of playing, I never fully learned to read music. I learned enough to "get by" because I was gifted with a fantastic ability to play by ear. But I never understood anything pertaining to theory and NO ONE in all those years of lessons seemed concerned about that. So I reached 25 years as a musician not able to sight read a piece of music if my life depended upon it. I could play anything, if someone would play it for me once. But I could barely read music at all and theory was Latin to me...Foreign and irrelevant. Then I started taking bass lessons.

I picked bass for two reasons, one I LOVE the sound. I've always been enthralled with watching David play. But most importantly, I KNEW I couldn't read bass clef at all. So I would HAVE to let him teach me rather than relying on tricks I have picked up in 25 years of faking Clarinet/bass Clarinet/Contra-bass Clarinet/ Alto sax/piano. I was baffled and somewhat frustrated when he insisted upon teaching me theory. No one had ever seemed to care about theory before. If it was mentioned at all, it was in passing...Perhaps some vague reference to chord numbers (without ever explaining what those things meant) but that was about it. For weeks and months we have discussed theory.

To my amazement, I sat down at the piano yesterday (having not touched it literally in over a year) and began to sight read. To actually be able to read and count through a piece and to play it recognizably (albeit in the wrong tempo at first...Got to do things slowly to start with) the first time through. I cried. I literally cried. In less than 6 months David has accomplished what 25 years as a musician and over 10 years of formal music training never did. Finally, I can read music!

I think he's brilliant!

And now, I've got to go play.
T

The Waiting -- Day 30

And still we wait. On day 28 we wrote the THIRD version of our contract. They finally, on day 24, countered our counter. They said that 85K was as low as they could possibly go. After much prayer we agreed. With concessions. Lots and lots of concessions. And now we wait some more.

Truly if they come back with a reasonable counter I will be willing to drop about half the concessions. But we NEED them to pay the closing costs. We NEED them to provide us with a one year home warranty. We NEED them to purchase us a termite contract. The rest, even the termite contract actually, are negotiable.

We have searched and prayed and negotiated in good faith. I am now at peace. If the deal tanks I will know that WE did everything within reason to make it happen, we were simply dealing with unreasonable people. Sadly there is another buyer that is interested in the area who has more resources at his disposal and needent make such a tight deal. If we lose the house, it likely won't remain on the market for us to try again at a later time when they are more willing to be reasonable.

And so we wait.

House hunt update

The waiting...Day 14

We have offered, been rejected and counter offered and now we are playing a waiting game. 14 days have passed since we wrote the contract on the house and we are no closer than we were the last time I wrote here. I only THOUGHT that I had a headache then.

This house is everything I could want...except ready to move into...it needs SO much work. There is a crack in the wall of the second bedroom that is wide enough to put my hand in. It needs a shower enclosure in the guest bath and new fixtures in the main bath. It needs new glass in the back door and a tree removed after the storm that blew through here in July. Extensive landscaping work and new vinyl siding is also needed but lower on my priority list than the rest.

Yet with all this, the mortgage company that holds the key to getting the house refuses to budge on the price. The location is wonderful, the layout is great, the closets are to die for and I can see the fireplace at the holidays. But will any of this come to fruition? The answer to that is in the hands of some inept mortgage lender on the left coast that doesn't return her phone calls or answer her e-mails in anything resembling a timely manner. Last week we thought that was a good thing...right up until they rejected our first offer after 7 days of leaving us hanging. Now we are 7 MORE days into the process and awaiting word on our counter offer...I must admit I don't have high hopes for the desired answer and my mind has already moved ahead to do we make yet another counter offer or do we cut our losses and walk away.

I hate house hunting. Passionately.

House Hunting Makes My Head Hurt

I haven't blogged much recently because of the fact that we are searching for a new home. I have discovered that house hunting makes my head hurt and financing makes it hurt even worse. However we received word yesterday that we are pre-approved. Yeah! Of course this means that we must now decide for serious if the house we have been daydreaming over for weeks is the one we really want to put an offer on and what our max offer will be. I feel a migraine coming on even as I type this.

My stress level has been incredible and my eating disorder is almost out of control. The most I can claim as victory is the awareness that I am losing my grip. Sometimes that is a victory worth celebrating and this is one of those times. Other areas of my life have been at the fore recently and I became distracted. The eating disorder is my "default setting" and I revert to it in times of stress because it "feels" comfortable. For the first time I am able to step back and see this happening. The last two or three days I'm feeling more in control again. This is good.

In the midst of all this I'm homeschooling, teaching 4 classes in co-op, carting the 6 year old back and forth to various lessons and trying to find some time for me. Contemplating moving terrifies me but I will manage it when the time comes. I always do.

Was there a point to this? Probably not. Did I find something within it that is useful to me. As always, yes. Celebrate the small victories and don't beat myself up about the seemingly large failures and I will be much more able to cope with life the universe and everthing.

T

Stumbling on the Path

I hate failure. It makes me angry. In my perfectionism only complete success is good enough, so often nothing ever gets accomplished. So it is a source of tremendous frustration that I find myself stumbling on the path that was so surprisingly easy at its beginning.

My eating disorder is flourishing and I don't know why. This drives me crazy. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I never schedule my own needs into Mi Vida Loca. Everyone else's needs take priority to my own. My counselor said, in the last group session I attended, what two months ago that Eating Disorders are born out of the idea that it is wrong to have needs. Huge light bulb moment. I have actually said that I was not allowed to have needs. That I did not have time to have needs. So what do I do. I overschedule myself and then drop my needs in order to make the agenda I have comitted myself to work. Why? Why do I do this to myself again and again? Why can I not be ok with inconvenencing others in order to take care of me?

At least I am becoming self-aware enough to know it is happening before it gets totally out of control. I have stumbled. I have not left the path. Perhaps this is not failure? Perhaps, maybe, this is a tiny, small but significant success?

I love the way homeschooled kids play

I love watching homeschooled kids at play. They are SO accepting and accomodating of one another. We had our teacher's meeting today for our co-op and had in attendance 30+ kids ages 2 to 13. Black and white kids. Boys and girls. Two with special needs. All body shapes and sizes. And they all played together without any fighting, scuffling, hurtful words and in ways that included everyone. They organized a game of kickball. Automatically moving in closer and pitching more softly to the littles so they could be successful too. They played in the sand box, making sand cakes decorated with pea gravel sprinkles. My daughter, all 85 pounds and 48 inches of her, was never called "Fat". She shines as the leader she is. I rejoice in her confidence in herself. I was already neurotic about my body size and shape by the time I was her age. She will be 6 on the 5th of September. By the time I turned six I was already on Weight Watchers for the first time. I looked across the play area today and I saw in front of me Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream being lived out. Children enjoying one another and evaluating one another strictly on the content of their character. I love watching homeschooled children play...it gives me hope for our future.