Will the real Christianity please stand up?

I was raised Catholic in a lazy, slipshod, not-tending-the-garden sort of way. I was baptized and then when it was time for communion, my mom bolted and left me with my dad, who was not the Catholic in the family. I did have my first confession though and finally received communion of my own volition when I was 16. Never confirmed. Switched to an evangelical, non-denominational church 5 years ago.

I love my church. But I still get confused about some of the things Protestantism teaches. I understand what this guy is saying about the different views of sanctification/justification in Protestant vs. Catholic doctrine. What shocked me was his statement, if I'm understanding him right, that if you didn't believe in the Protestant version, you're not going to heaven. His whole premise is that it's shameful for Protestants to be so tolerant of Catholics because Protestants bled and died for the right to their beliefs and Catholicism is just, well, wrong. As I understand the Bible, the only thing that's required for salvation is to believe that Jesus is your Lord and Savior. So, I'm thinking, this guy's wacked.

Then there's the argument that there are only 2 reasons to leave a marriage: adultery and if one spouse is a Christian and the other is a non-believer. Many Christian resources state that abuse is NOT a reason to divorce, only a reason to separate. I think this is a totally irresponsible teaching in any church and honestly, I reject it. After 2 years as a volunteer at a battered women's shelter, I can't believe God would want any woman to endure what I've seen some people suffer.

Here's what I worry about: that my fellow Christians are getting too caught up in dogma created by radio show hosts and book authors and not reading the Word for themselves, then listening for the "still, small voice" that informs them.

What happened to love? Not "love, but..." -- but "love and..."

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
-Corinthians 13:4-8

Random thoughts for Memorial Day

I'm still alive.

Vegas was so very busy and I spent a great deal of it on the show floor (National Hardware Show). Meetings, dinners, lots of vodka and wine and very little sleep. That pretty much sums it up. I do recommend to anyone that if you go to Vegas, check out the VooDoo Lounge which is very high and when we were there, pretty tame (about 9:30-11:30 on a Wednesday) but I hear it's gets really crazy. I didn't want crazy, just a drink and a view. And I got both. Also Michael Mina at the Bellagio has the most perfect service of any restaurant I have ever been to. But I could never afford it on my own... for what we had it would be about $300 for 2. But oh, wow. Amazing.

Since then, it's been strictly ground floor. Meetings, work, a doctor's appointment and trying to catch up on my zzzz's.

On another subject: you know how everyone always has those "most embarassing moments"... I never could really think of one but I just got one the other day... my mother gave me a beautiful silk skirt (wrap) that ties on the left hip. I kept meaning to throw on a slip (even though it was lined) but it was 5 a.m. on the day of my meeting and I was in a hurry to catch a plane. So when the plane lands in Nashville I'm fighting with my bag (luckily my co-worker was a few bodies in front of me) and I get almost to the door and the skirt ... just ... falls OFF. See, silk comes untied all by itself. So as smoothly as I could I grab up the fabric and step sideways in to the row of seats to my left. Sit down, retie, rearrange and get off. Don't look at anyone. Don't look sideways, back, say nothing, just collect up my tattered pride and pretend. Next time I'll put on a damned slip. Thank God I don't wear thong underwear. I could almost pretend nothing happened except I HEARD a woman gasp just at the moment it fell. Perfect. I'll be double-knotting in the future.

I see I'm getting close to 1000 visitors -- I'd like to hit it by June 8 for the yorkistrose one year anniversary. So keep reading and I'll try to keep writing until then.

Happy Memorial Day all,
rose

Decoration Day is the most beautiful of our national holidays.... The grim cannon have turned into palm branches, and the shell and shrapnel into peach blossoms. ~Thomas Bailey Aldrich

all geeked up and no where to go (for at least 6 months)

http://adisney.go.com/disneypictures/narnia/index.html

Thanks Kari! Her "Beside Dry Creek" blog points out that the First Chronicles of Narnia movie now has a trailer... and it's very cool.

Of course, I loved Lord of the Rings. Got 'em on DVD. Got a DVD player so I could own them, actually. So this looks like a perfect next step. The movie opens (sigh) December 9.

(Oh, please, Disney, don't screw it up.)

Gotta get on those books soon. Haven't read them for (ahem) a few years. OK, like 24 but who's counting?

The other men in my life

How Workplace Couples Keep Each Other Happy

I thought it was just me.

I'm on what my real spouse and I call my third "work husband". I've always been inclined to make friends with men and have very friendly relationships with many of my male co-workers, past and present. In fact, my strongest and best work relationships are with guys.

Yes, it can lead to looks, gossip, questions. Like when the accounting department starting spreading the rumor that work husband #2 and I were sleeping together last year. Because we went to a couple of movies together when we were traveling. Utterly bogus conclusion. And I was really hurt. But I've decided that it shouldn't matter because the only person that should be concerned about my extra-marital activities doesn't worry about me being unfaithful. Work husbands #2 & #3 now joke that it's a threesome.

The WSJ article is just more fodder for my developing theory that healthy friendships outside of marriage are not just important -- they're essential. Work husband #1 is still one of my best friends and I always look forward to talking with him and getting pictures of his new daughter. And we still give each other career advice and encouragement.

What it is, really, is knowing that you have a safe harbor in the sea of politics that is corporate culture. It trumps loneliness on the road to travel with someone who can order your drink for you while you're in the ladies'. In my industry I'm always outnumbered by men -- sometimes 10 to 1. It's only natural to have a guy or two in your corner in case things get crazy.

And on that note, if you don't hear from me again, I'm off to Vegas Monday-Thursday for work. Mom is going with me. My stepdad had a dream that she's going to win $2.5 million on a dollar slot while she's there. If she does, I told her we're spending the weekend.

Cautious Optimism

There is a person who lost his job but keeps a brave face for his kids and his wife.

There is a person who just lost a baby.

There is a person who takes medication for the depression she's suffered from for years and no one knew.

There is a person whose wife threw him out.

There is a person whose ex-wife is taking the kids and moving away.

There is a person who worries at night about if the cysts in his child's body are cancerous.

There is a person raising a toddler alone.

There is a person who nearly lost her home.

There is a person whose drinking has gone out of control.

There is a person whose husband almost walked away.

I know all these people. I watch them all keeping their secrets so only the actor's mask is what the world sees. Collectively their hearts break, heal awkwardly and break again, sometimes along those old wound lines and sometimes in fresh places. How do they keep smiling? How do they wake up each day and face whatever comes next?

Cautious optimism. It's my favorite phrase by which to live.

Here's my theory in a nutshell:If you concentrate only on the bad stuff, that's all you see. And really, something bad happens every minute of the day. Some bad things are really bad (death): some just seem so at the time (losing a job-- but later you get a better one). Some things are good -- but subtly so -- and maybe you miss them (clean kids in PJs hugging you goodnight). Some things are awesome, once-in-a-lifetime good (swimming with dolphins). I want to look for the good. I want to anticipate being happy. I have to believe. I won't pretend that there isn't a dump truck of crap looking to unload in my yard but I'm going to believe that it's not coming today. That's what I call cautious optimism.

Share it. Maybe it will help someone you know -- the one whose heart is breaking.

books, dresses and other secrets

I'm on a big reading kick lately. I finished "The Time Traveler's Wife" last night and will start on "Middlesex" sometime today, though I don't know when I'll have any time. I can't remember the last time I finished a book in a week! Books have become my place to hide. With some good reading material, I can go anywhere. Consequently I've spent a lot of time in Medieval England and Wales, and more recently Southern Missouri, Chicago and Maine. No one kind find me in any of those places.

Dinner with my friend S last night -- we fan our secrets like hands full of cards, while we joke and laugh and eat. We shopped a little and I bought a kicky bohemian looking skirt to wear to our dinner thing in Vegas (business trip in 2 weeks) and she helped me pick out a shirt to go with it. I had bought an embroidered black satin dress a while ago but decided it was too dressy (can't overdress the customers) and, oh yes, T said I looked like a hooker when I tried it on for him. I don't - but OK. Thankfully I only spent $18 on it (it was a $120 dress I found on a clearance rack in Dillard's.) Maybe someday I'll have an occasion.

But I digress. Back to S and our once-monthly (or more) dinner date. It feels good to share secrets with someone... to say out loud the things that nibble away at my confidence, my being. S and I have stepped up our friendship on recent months -- it has become more trusting, more tight. I take great comfort in this little oasis of commiseration and girl talk. Our lives seem soapy and overblown to ourselves but take on a more normal texture when we see that other's lives are just as goofy as our own. In her company I am the most real me and the mask comes off. And she doesn't even mind.

mayday

Day begins with screaming fight.
Day ends with raspberry cheesecake concrete from Sheridan's.

Day begins with racing, eggs and sausage.
Day ends with pillow-throwing argument.

That's my weekend in a nutshell.

There were other moments in between. I saw an old friend and thought how lovely she looked, with her bright green eyes and long, glossy dark hair. She had a casual, peaceful grace that made me want to sit down and hold her hand for a while to see if her beauty was catching. I cleaned my house. I cut the grass. I ate homemade pizza and I made enchiladas. I read about half of a very good book in the small chunks of time I carved out late at night.

I did not laugh as much as I wished but I watched T and K laughing together and that made me happy.

I am exhausted by the fighting but too scared to give in and quit.

I was accused of being in love with someone else.

Impossible, as love takes many, many years of knowing and understanding and compromising. It is a secret language, a routine, a place where separate lives touch and create a unique space.

One day, leaning on another. A house of cards?

retail therapy

OK, so maybe the problem is a little more than the blues, in which case, I'll talk to my dr. next month and try to get to the bottom of whatever is bothering me.

Be that as it may, I decided to medicate in one of the least offensive ways I know how... retail therapy. I got my hair trimmed and actually let her style it this time (nice! it even came with a scalp massage). I bought shoes to replace the favorite pair I tore up in Hawaii, a new purse, some hair styling products and a new lipstick. I came home actually feeling pretty.

I'm glad it's the weekend. I'm totally digging my new book and I have 3 hours of shows taped. I'm also going to try to get some rest and some exercise.

false start

OK I tried to start Jonathan Franzen's "The Corrections" but it was depressing the crap out of me and I don't need more of that. I'm already sulky and moody enough, thank you. So I grabbed "The Time Traveler's Wife" instead and if that isn't better I'll have to take drastic measures and break out the Jennie Crusie mindcandy I have stashed away.

I think I'm having a midlife crisis. T says he doesn't know what's wrong with me, "We've been plugging away just like always," he says. This says to me that he is happy doing what he's always done. Which is great. But I feel furious even thinking about it. I think I should be happy but I'm not. I'm bored, restless, irritable, lonely and my back hurts.

I think this restlessness is a way of courting disaster. Part of my drama queen psyche seems to like to shake things up to feel something, which is a seriously messed up way to be. WHY can't I just be happy?

Supposedly exercise helps "the blues" or whatever you want to call it. Maybe I should try it. I do enjoy throwing myself in to a big project, something that takes hours because then I just get wrapped up in what I'm doing and don't have the opportunity to overthink things.

I'm really in danger of becoming a crazy cat lady.

My

My happiness --
a small kernel planted in shallow soil
in a box full of roots
in the half sun.

My changing heart--
a fruit broken open on the sidewalk
spilling its insides out
on the dry stone.

My lifetime choice--
a small house and a small garden tended
nothing new, one day that
leans on the last.

Things I'd like to do:

1. get a massage
2. get a mani/pedi
3. see Yellowstone
4. see the Grand Canyon
5. spend a few days in the Smithsonian
6. read all the books on my bookshelves
7. go to Europe
8. write a book
9. lose 30 pounds
10. meet my sister
11. pet a tiger
12. go to Maui
13. get a makeup consultation
14. grow beautiful tomatoes
15. find the perfect haircut
16. rock a baby
17. laugh every day
18. participate in community theater
19. live without regret
20. publish a poem

Is it possible to live without regrets? What would you undo, if you had a do-over? And where would you be now?

Messed up kind of love

Last night, T started to watch Oprah as I was heading upstairs for a little on-on-one time with “Empire Falls”. Oprah was featuring a woman named Ayelet Waldeman, of whom I became an instant fan. With one foot on the staircase, I started watching -- and I never got to “Empire Falls”.

This little 5-foot-nothing mom faced off a crowd of angry moms who were offended as hell about what she had written – with only Oprah and another petite mom named Muffy to back her. And what did she write that so enraged the mob? That while she loved her children, she was not in love with them. Her husband is still the center of her universe.

Wowch. (My new word for painful revelation). You should have seen how ticked those moms were. But Ayelet is right. And even though I don’t have biological children, I see how having a kid in the house changes the focus and affects couplehood. If’n y’aint careful, kids can take over every nook and cranny of the house and your heart. Leaving no room for daddy. Or mommy. Making couples forget how those kids got made in the first place. Sadder yet, was the mommy mob’s vociferous insistence that hubby will wait until the kids are grown and she has time to give him a little of herself, oh, 15 or 20 years from now.

Get real. No man wants to have bad sex or none for 15 years. No man wants to be relegated to the way back while wife is doling out the juiceboxes and doing flashcards. Sorry. Even I was shocked (and I think T was too) that 1 in 5 marriage are zero sex marriages (or less than 10 times per year). What happened to balance, for heaven’s sake? What happened to setting aside time to nurture your marriage so your kids can have a stable and loving home?

And what kind of kids are getting raised? Lavished with over-the-top love, parents orbiting their children like moons, the kids are encouraged to be selfish, self-centered and oblivious to anyone else’s needs or feelings. They miss out on the chance to observe and learn from a loving romantic relationship. They never see that sometimes other people’s needs should come first because their needs drive their mother’s every action. I think it’s important to make children a priority – otherwise don’t have them. But they can’t be the only priority. Nor should they believe they are the most important people on the planet.

I’ve added Ayelet’s website to my bookshelf. I’ve never read her stuff – except “Truly, Madly, Guiltily” but after her graceful, classy appearance on Oprah, I plan to.

Yes

Love is a choice, not a feeling.

Today I choose to love my husband. Today I choose my family and all its hassles over the whatever that is out there. Because the whatever is not for me..

My mom always said my grandfather must have had gypsy blood because he loved to move around. I used to think about this as a little girl and I thought once I had a place of my own I'd never want to move. But now I find this is not true. And in fact I've spent the last 6-12 months of my life thinking of nothing but moving around. Some women fantasize about other men -- Ben Affleck or the dude in the coffee shop. I fantasize about quiet little loft apartments, neatly furnished and easy to clean.

A few days ago I came one sentence away from that little apartment. I say one sentence but it was really just one word, yes or no.

He asked me, "What is it that you really want to do? Do you want to stay or not?"

All that is selfish in me, all that wanders away from the keyboard and the kitchen sink to other lives lived elsewhere, the old me, worldy and gypsy -- wanted to say "no". But somehow I found myself forming the word "yes". Yes to sinks full of dishes, to shimmying washing machines, to weeds in the backyard. To listening to his breathing in deep sleep. To sending a daughter to Europe when I would rather go myself. Yes to clothes on the floor and yes to the house that we thought we would have sold and moved away from by now. Yes to forgiveness for all my hurts, both real and imagined. Forgiveness 70 x 7.

Maybe the gift of a mature relationship is the realization that not everything that I need can or will come from him but some things must. I can talk about books and film and history with other people. I can have dinner with girlfriends and a healthy career. And for unconditional love and acceptance I can go to God. But when it's time to go home, it's to him I will return because that is the deal I made. I swore before God to have him, for better or worse.

Yes. Yes. and Amen.

Murcia me

So an update on the Israel post. I have not felt the pull and tug of the Holy Land, nor have I received any divine hints that I should go. So I will not go. Someday, I will. Some year, when A is not headed off for a semester abroad at Murcia. Someday when I can go and share it with someone I love. Someday when I am more spiritually ready.

Touching history and seeing the places Jesus saw just seems too easy. I can't explain it. I just know that my faith would be solidified if I could put my feet on the Via Dolorosa or see the Garden Tomb, where for us Christians, everything began. Or stand on the Mount of Olives, eat fish at the Sea of Galilee. It would be so much easier for me to believe then -- like Thomas, I have a foolish need to put my finger in the wound. But that isn't how faith is supposed to be.

"Now Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1

For a little while longer I need to keep nurturing my faith.

Oh, I don't know if this makes any sense at all. Suffice to say, I just know that this is A's year for Murcia, not my year for Jerusalem.

audience of one

20 years ago, my mother sat in a darkened auditorium watching me act on stage. She sat in the audience while I sang thin, slightly off-key solos at school concerts. She attended the music department awards breakfast when I got my vocal award -- not for being good but for being tenacious. Her smile of approval meant more to me than the cold words from a so-called friend who said I sucked and didn't deserve it.

She was there for every single thing I ever did. In 4 years, she never missed. She was my audience of one.

Last night, I became K's audience for the first time. And I never appreciated my mother more than in that moment, feeling exhausted from the day, sitting in a darkened auditorium with a quarter tank of gas in my car, 2 hours worth of work to do at home and another day just like that one tomorrow.

In so many ways, I have become my mother. What an honor.

April is ...

Every day I look out from our building at work up to the scrubby trees and brush growing along the low cliffs that separate downtown from the West Bottoms, looking for signs of life. At last, I see a pale green haze... the first buds and news leaves of spring.

The crabapples, forsythia, pears, daffodils and hyacinth are blooming -- it's supposed to be a beautiful weekend: our first camping weekend of the year.

April around the midwest means spring but it's also Autism Awareness Month. My friend S sent me this e-mail today... her daughter is autistic.


Dear friends and family,
I realize you all are busy with kids, jobs and life...but I have a little thing to discuss with you. It will only take a minute.

April is autism awareness month. I know you are all "aware" of autism because of M, but I just wanted to chat about a few things:
*Although it may be a factor for some kids, we DO NOT think vaccines caused or prompted autism in M's case.
*When you ask questions about her behavior/sleep/words etc. it does not bother us. We prefer that you ask, rather than guess.
*Kids with autism do not understand personal property. So if you have a Coke, M may pick it up and drink it. She's not trying to be rude - she just doesn't process why she can't have it.
*Most kids with autism do not understand facial expressions/social cues/body language. It is like a secret code they can't crack.
*Autism is a neurological disorder.
*Autism occurs 1 in 250 kiddos.

If you want to support autism research , you can go to www.asjck.org, www.autism-society.org, or call me.
If you would like to support a local family with their in-home therapy: Mason's parents are trying to continue in-home therapy due to insurance restrictions. They are selling blue Autism Advocate bracelets (same type as those LiveStrong ones) for $5 each. Let me know if you want one. Mason is in M's communications class.

Please don't feel obligated to spend any money. Just say a prayer that some kind of cure or therapy or cause will be found someday to help these kids achieve all they are capable of.

Thanks for your time!!

My friend Stacie is a tough, wonderful, loving mom and friend. She's like a lot of moms and dads out there -- just trying to help their kids make it in a world that doesn't always make sense. I include this today to honor her and let her know how much I respect her and all she does.

If you want to help Mason's family, let me know. If you want to just donate to the association, you can get a bracelet through the Autism Association website (listed above). And -- at no cost to you-- you can pray. I hope you will.

"A man is powerful on his knees." -Corrie ten Boom

pilgrimage

My church is organizing a trip to Israel in November. T asked me if I had thought of going. He doesn't feel it is "his time" but thinks it could be a life changing event for me.

I don't know. I don't know. When I think about it, I feel fearful which makes me think maybe I should be going, because fear isn't a God thing.
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind" - 2 Timothy 1:7(NKJV)

All my life I've longed to "go". I love travel, I love history, I love God. This should be a slam dunk decision.

If anyone is out there reading this, I'd like your thoughts. If you pray I'd like those too. I have to decide by April 10.

mellowing with age

Saw my ex yesterday. While running an errand I jumped off the highway to grab lunch (mmm, love eating in the car) and apparently some massive construction project took out the power for the traffic signals in 2 intersections in Roeland Park. Yup, there he was in his utility blues, patrol car lights flashing, directing traffic. Funny, 12 years later I can still tell his mood by how he's moving his arms and hands. Course no one's going to be happy to be a traffic cop in the rain. And he most certainly did not appear happy.

He looked nice though. In a rounder, grayer sort of way. Unmistakable profile. Made me check the mirror to see how I'm holding up. Not bad, I think. Made me also think lots of wistful things, mostly relating to failure and the crystal clear hindsight I now have about that marriage, and me in that marriage. Some of us carry baggage and some of us just stuff it in a closet somewhere because we can't quite bear to part with it.

I hear he's a daddy twice over and belongs to a church now. I've heard people mellow with age.

Even me. Even him.

i am unfashionable

When I was a non-custodial stepmama, I walked round in ignorant bliss of urban fashion, pop music, cell phone couture and conversations involving the use of the word "dawg". I liked that.

Now I know way more than I want to know about Southpole, Marc Ecko, Baby Phat and Enyce. These are what has replaced Abercrombie, American Eagle, etc. in my girl-child's fashion vocabulary. Her migration from preppy surf & skate wear to urban baby-got-back wear is, I know, a product of her new school. Her mother hates it. I worry about it because I don't want her to start acting like something she's not. She's ever one to take on the colors of her surroundings, like a pretty little chameleon. Although in fairness, she's always preferred sporty clothing and these brands do run along those lines.

I just wish she would lead, instead of always following.

I wonder when I became unfashionable?

not really that dark

The blog is looking kind of gloomy lately... I'm not really as grouchy as I appear in print. Actually I'm starting to feel better. More sun, longer days, the promise of spring. I feel like I'm waking up from my long winter's nap. I just realized that Easter is next Sunday. And mushroom season in the midwest is drawing ever nearer -- as is camping season, a prospect that makes me happy and T delirious with joy.

I'm ready for a quiet evening out by a crackling fire with a drink and a marshmallow stick. But this weekend I get to collect up our tax stuff and perhaps even clean out the garage. It's not as bad as the stuff I found here (uh, this stuff makes me dizzy just looking at it) but it's getting to the point where we're ready to start throwing things away. Or setting them afire. Perhaps I can grab my marshmallow stick and a drink and settle down for a nice crackling fire in the driveway.

Nothing makes me feel better like cleaning. How sick is that?

Spring, glorious spring!