Tuning In

Growth in relationships takes time. Real relationships take an investment to develop. In my opinion, this is true for friendships, family, work relationships, and in romantic love. As a contributor to each, you have to attune yourself to the needs of the other person. Otherwise, these “relationships” are self-serving with little possibility of a future. I speak in terms of one-on-one since I am not aware of any other way relationships prosper.

I don’t know how it is for you, but it seems for me that the “little things” tend to be more meaningful than the “big things”. I could list a myriad of examples for each, but those would be the “little things” and “big things” in my life. I venture to say they vary in yours. Some of what comprises the little things in my life are an affirmation of my existence by note, call, e-mail or text, a kiss hello, green juice, and letting me in your space.

Again, “my space” (not the social networking site) and “your space” will vary. I am very generous with my space. I like to have people around the majority of the time with the exception of immediately when I get home (bathroom calls first) or in my kitchen. I admit I do much better before 9pm. I will take the early bird special any day. I am sure there will come a day when I shall move to Florida and enjoy that perk! I also don’t mind sharing most things or making changes for the good of all with one major exception – DO NOT TOUCH MY CAR RADIO! Ask The Hooligans. Many a hand has been slapped during the attempt.

Being very cognizant in how I feel about someone messing with my radio, I am careful in my requests for others to change the radio station. However, I plunged recently while in Triple M’s car. He has satellite radio. Oh, satellite radio! It brings back wonderful memories of the first time I ever heard Griffin House and Kasey Chambers. As I’ve mentioned previously, we are going to the beach (the kind that’s surrounded by an ocean) this summer. We will drive several hours with The Hooligans. It’s seriously going to be “a trip”.

I asked if we could find the Coffeehouse station. We searched and behold we found it. I then, *gasp* asked if there was enough room for my station in one of his preset buttons. You must understand that for an INTJ male, this is serious infringement on space. He paused and thought about it. Triple M is typically attuned to my needs and so he “made” room for my station in his car radio. Just one more way he let me know how he feels. He has such a way with the little things. I just keep tuning in for more.

Backpacking with baggage; backpacking in freedom…

According to Dictionary.com, the word baggage may be defined as things that encumber one's freedom, progress, development, or adaptability; impediments. To some extent, we all have baggage. This is so true, so prevalent that there is even a dating show built on this premise. The question there becomes how much baggage we can accept from each other. Certainly, there are deal breakers in relationships as there should be. I know for me, insincerity is definitely one. I am thankful for the realness in those I love. Sometimes, keeping it real is difficult and at times painful. However, I can’t imagine being able to place any trust in someone I doubted. I place a high value on honesty even when I may not necessarily like it.

In a previous post, “Rearview Mirrors”, I broached the subject of the kind of baggage that is unspeakable. Most times, I keep it that way but occasionally, I over share. It happens suddenly and before I catch myself. It’s typically awkward and uncomfortable. For a moment, I go back to that place that is shameful and makes me feel insecure of those around me and of myself. Then I am drawn back into reality. I am brought back to the lie that, to paraphrase Jon Acuff, “if people really knew you, they wouldn't love you. The truth is if people really knew you, they could really love you." That in turn reminds me of the beauty of sharing each other’s burdens. As an example, Jesus not only shared in the shame, in the unspeakable, but also chose to carry the burden for us, for me. He provides the way so that we are in fact no longer encumbered or weighed down.

One of my favorite paperbacks on this subject is called “Weight on the Lord” and despite its play on words, it’s not about weight loss which is a good thing because I typically visualize Jesus with an eight pack. He was, after all a hard working carpenter. On the front cover, Jesus is backpacking with a man. Jesus is the one carrying the backpack. Along with the book, a good representation of this is the song “Traveling Light” by Joel Hanson.

As a fan of backpacking, I would like to affirm that the journey is so much sweeter when someone that loves you takes the trek with you and accepts your baggage as theirs. I’ve learned that in order to truly be loved, you have to let yourself be known and backpack together unashamedly and in sincere and reckless abandon. Along the way, some rain must fall but it doesn’t make the trip any less lovely. There are discoveries along the way when you give yourself away that make it all worthwhile.

Planny, Planny…

I am an ENTP. That means my personality portrait is Extraverted Intuitive Thinking Perceiving. If you are really, really curious to learn more here is a link: http://www.personalitypage.com/html/ENTP.html.

There are not that many ENTPs in the world. We account for a little over 3% of the general population.

As an ENTP that has a slight ENTJ (http://www.personalitypage.com/html/ENTJ.html) tendency, I love to translate theories and possibilities into solid plans of action. I am both the one that dreams big and likes to lay out the plans on how we shall make those dreams come true! When the thought of something specific lights up in my mind, it is difficult to move me away from beginning the process. Finishing is a different story except for parties.

To be clear, my definition of a party may vary slightly to yours. I think any time two or more friends or family members join my boys and me, that’s a party even if all we are doing is eating popcorn and watching Hallmark. I love, love, love to have people around and I especially love to cook for them. Due to my limited available time, I plan menus and obsess over them for every “party” I have. Let’s just say that I have a solid layout of the menu for our week long vacation the second week of July. Today is June 10^th.

I recently moved (last week) to a rental home. My best friend, BamaGirl, is visiting us this weekend. I have been planning the meal since last Sunday. We are having turkey meatballs, (Triple M’s delectable recipe) salmon patties, cheesy potatoes, whipped sweet potatoes, broccoli, corn, pineapple upside down Bundt cake, brownies, (SouthernCharm’s infamous ones) and smoothies. Here is the thing: BamaGirl does not know at what time she is arriving, and it’s driving me loony. She knows this too.

When BamaGirl and I first became friends, we planned a surprise birthday party for her mom at a mutual friend’s home. She and I had only been “hanging out” for about three months and were still learning about each other’s quirks. I took the lead in planning since that’s my thing. I told BamaGirl to get to the house early so we could set up. We did not state a specific time. That was a mistake! My idea of early is about an hour. Her idea of early is fifteen minutes. We’ve learned to be more specific J.

BamaGirl is one of the most considerate, sweetest, and loveliest women I know. In my previous post, I shared about having a “Carrie” and a “Charlotte”. In my mind, BamaGirl is definitely “Charlotte”. She’s cried and laughed with me more than I deserve in the last couple of years and I’ve had the joy of being part of her family as an adopted sister. She’s amazing. To top that off, her little girl Sweetpea is just like butterflies and rainbows, lollipops and sunshine.

I‘ve tried very hard not to act stressed when we’ve spoken about our visit this week, but she knows me too well. Last night she sent me a note that said, “I am more worried about you stressing about it my planny planny friend”. That totally warmed my heart. BamaGirl is the kind of friend where you know, even when something goes wrong, the intent was always the best. She makes it easy to love her and be her friend. I learn everyday from her and her sweet, gentle spirit. Even if we only have popcorn and watch Hallmark when she comes over (after the food is burnt because I would have started cooking at 7am), it will be a party indeed!

Two Mirandas

According to http://www.wikipedia.com/, “a guilty pleasure is something one enjoys and considers pleasurable despite feeling guilt for enjoying it. The "guilt" involved is sometimes simply fear of others discovering one's lowbrow or otherwise embarrassing tastes”. I currently have two and they both involve the name “Miranda”.

I have shared about my mind’s eye previously. On most days, it’s very entertaining. However, there are times when its continued rambling thoroughly exhausts me. It just wears me out! When that happens, I begin a quest to find something that entertains my mind’s eye, and trust me, it’s hard to do. I don’t do well with movies – I typically fall asleep. I like crime dramas that are not too scientific and have exceptional dialogue (think Law & Order and Criminal Minds). I also enjoy watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. No, I am not adding those as guilty pleasures. They are very informative and a source of stress relief!

In such a quest one day about two weeks ago, I discovered “Sex and the City”. Since I am a nice Christian girl, I think I’m supposed to type that out as “S-E-X and the City”. As a BAdventist girl, am I supposed to type that out as “S-E-X and come out of her my people”? I am not sure. Nonetheless, I paused to watch it when I heard Carrie’s mind’s eye speaking! How great! My mind’s eye can be entertained by some fictional else’s mind’s eye. Win–Win.

As I dissected the roles of the four friends and attempted to figure out who I am most like, I came to the realization I am most like Miranda. Miranda has walls, some seriously un-scalable walls. I get that. When, to paraphrase Taylor Swift (hey, at least it’s not Kasey Chambers), you “brace yourself for the goodbye, ‘cause it’s all you’ve ever known” walls are a staple. Miranda also has a great aptitude for realness in friendship and a drive to be successful. To her surprise, Miranda turned out to be a great mom. She’s made personal moves her mind’s eye never even thought of (think marriage and Brooklyn), and continues to amaze herself. If I were in *** and the City, I would be Miranda.

At about the same time I discovered this show, I was reminiscing about my favorite childhood doll. The two things are not logically related so I won’t attempt to explain how that happened. It was my Baby Come Back doll. This doll walked/waddled, made a turn, and came back! It was my favorite. I had leg braces and had great difficulty walking and scaling walls. I think that’s part of the reason I still have walls. She was my own personal little hero because she could walk. On a tragic and unfortunate afternoon, my clumsy hands dropped Baby Come Back and she fell breaking her kneecapsL. I strolled her for a while and one day **POOF** she died. Well, I imagine my mother threw her away. I was devastated.

Upon discovering eBay and on many occasions in the years following, I tried unsuccessfully to locate a Baby Come Back until about a week ago. I had one of those “what the heck” moments and searched for it once more. THERE IT WAS!!! Baby Come Back up for sale to the highest bidder. Now, you must also realize I am very cheap. No matter how badly I want something, I do allow logic to come play with mind’s eye when it comes to money. I bid $12…and I won. Baby Come Back was shipped and arrived yesterday. I named her Miranda. It’s bittersweet.

I will say this. I may still not be able to scale walls, but I’ve surprised myself in my personal choices. I’ve even let someone over the wall of that “careless man’s careful daughter” and enjoy every minute of it. Additionally, I have great friends. As I reflect, I am sure I have at least a Carrie and a Charlotte. I don’t know about Samantha. Hey, I may be a BAdventist, but that doesn’t mean my friends are also.

The Possibility of Everything

I am an optimist; a perennial one at that. Like Emily Dickinson, “I Dwell in Possibility”. After all, life has no guarantees and strife and struggles may quickly overtake us. I have not been guaranteed happiness, fortune, success, love, friendships, breath or pleasure. Does this mean I don’t have expectations? No! Although I admit I am not very good about making my needs known. I am working on this.

I am an optimist that tends to be longsuffering. In a relationship, whether as a parent, a friend, or a companion, I am more than likely to “give things time” even when my intuitive side has already warned me about the likely outcome of a particular situation. This may not make sense to others, but it’s helped me to live (overall) without regrets.

I came close to regrettable a few months ago. Within a matter of forty-eight hours, I made two life-changing decisions. The first was to NOT see someone that did not make me a priority but only an option and the second was to pursue the possibility of everything.

I only figured out my need for the possibility of everything within that timeframe. In fact, those were the exact words that popped into my mind as I was deciding what I wanted, and to an extent, what I deserve. I use the word “deserve” not because I am truly deserving but because somewhere in my limbic system my value was distorted. We all have something to “bring to the table”. There is only one me (and one you) thank goodness!

The possibility of everything doesn’t guarantee those things I mentioned above but it should remind us that we cannot have a relationship with anyone that is not pursuing the same. It’s easy to promise. It harder the day we have to keep those promises. Promising doesn’t make it so. Living and striving towards the possibility of everything together does.

Handprints

I am continuing on, as Maureen says. For over fours years, I have been captive to the State of Alabama. Well, not the actual “State of Alabama” as in the government but simply residing in this beautiful state. For ten years prior to my move there, I dreamed about it. I dreamed of living in my particular county, in my particular city, close to my particular waterfall, and my particular favorite state park. That dream came true and is now ending; new ones will begin.

There was a lot of crying going on in my room on Monday. As I unpacked and repacked my “nostalgia box”, I came across many small sentimentally adorable cards, pictures, books, clothing items, and mementos created by all my Hooligans – The Original Hooligans and the current Hooligans. I found Muscles coming-home-from-the-hospital outfit and Boricua’s felt picture (you know, the kind back in the day where a picture was printed on felt) at about three months old! I found some poems My Little Chicken wrote about Jesus, and an “All About Me” book by Cinci. All I could think was, “Where has time gone?”

It wasn’t until I found the “handprints” from Kindergarten for both Muscles and Cinci that I truly fell apart. You see, they are the youngest. The Original Hooligans are now 21 and 20. Muscles and Cinci just turned 15 and 13 respectively. I have thus far devoted my life to raising two sets of sons, mostly alone for the last (close to) 22 years. To see the small handprints of now young men was moving to say the least.

I hollered with great urgency for them to come to my room. I think they thought I was dying. It’s nice to know they would come if I were dying. Too bad they don’t show up timely when I need them to do some tall person job like getting a mixing bowl from the top cabinet, or when I need them to vacuum. When they arrived, I could do nothing more but hold up the handprints. They appeared to be amazed. They each put their hands over the “handprints” and could not believe “where the time had gone” either!

All the Hooligans and I have gone through a lot together none of which I would trade for anything in the world. With all the pride in the world I shall shout that I have the bestest sons ever!!! Have there been disappointments? Sure! Have they chosen foolishly from time to time? Of course! Have I? YES J

Through it all, we have learned from each other, cared for each other, and upheld each other. Those handprints are representative of the times they’ve held my hand and I’ve held theirs. Somehow in all these years, we’ve yet to outgrow that. Their hands are manly now, wow, yes, I said “manly” but they still hold mine like little boys. It’s comforting to have stronger hands holding mine. It reminds me of all that God has brought me through in the last 15 years. I totally agree with Ellen White’s statement “We have nothing to fear for the future except as we may forget the way God has led us in the past.” . The handprints of God have left an impression thus far. I pray not to forget as we continue on hand in hand.