A Year with Aslan: Day 23 – Pleased with Nothing

So, I’ve ended my adventures in Narnia – at least I’ve actually read The Chronicles of Narnia in their entirety.  It’s a bittersweet moment – one that brought me chills of excitement, tears of joy and sadness, and a longing even more for a lion named Aslan.

And while I’ll continue to look back on Narnia, I’m looking forward to beginning my adventures in Middle Earth.  There’s something just as special about the bravery of two hobbits and a great king!

For a month now, well…23 days…I’ve lived in Narnia – having adventures with Eustace and Jill, Shasta and Aravis, Digory and Polly…and Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.  But it was a return to the Dawn Treader that my daily Aslan reading gave me tonight.  And the reminder of the boy Eustace used to be…quite unhappy with his lot on board the fine ship.

In all of these books, there seems to be a character opposed to the magic of Narnia, unwilling to open up and accept the wonder.  In the end they get their come-uppance…and it’s not really surprising…
And to be honest, I’m not really sure where I’m going with all of this…because for the past two years, I’ve been Eustace – wishing I was back where I was…not happy with the here and now.  And while, lately, I’ve felt a change…a kind of acceptance for things…I still feel that anger and resentment rising up in me sometimes.

And I think I like to pin a lot of that anger on my brother.  I don’t know why.  Maybe because I know the kind of life I’d like to be living…knowing if I could, I WOULD.  And I see my brother, quite capable of living the life I WANT to be living and yet he does nothing with it.  He squanders all that is given to him…and I’m angry and I’m hurt.  I want nothing more than to yell at my brother, to tell him how I’m feeling, to tell him how hurtful it is to watch him continually let me down…let my family down…

but I can’t.
I think it partly goes back to what I wrote last night – would what I say be just as hurtful to him?  Would it make a difference? 

And I see my parents and I know they’re hurting as much as I am by they way he treats us.  And I know they’re faced with tough decisions…they say they’re going to act upon…and for the life of me, I hope they do – but for the life of me…I can’t step into their shoes…because as much as I can say I understand their torment, I don’t.  I see my brother continuing to mess up, continuing to disappoint, and I hear threats of action being tossed around…yet I see nothing happening.
And I almost feel like that’s more of a let down.  Because, as hard as it may be to put those words into action…it’s harder to watch the downward spiral of a brother I love and pray for daily.

What I want more than anything right now is wisdom.  I want the courage to speak my mind and heart to my brother, and to do so in a loving way.  I want my brother’s heart to remain open to the words I so want to say to him.  I want to witness a change in him.
I want to know the direction my life should take…in a ministry…in a career.  I want to quit worrying about what’s next and learn to be content in what I have.

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; than peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.  Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness.  James 3: 17-18

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow.  What is your life?  You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.  Instead, you out to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”  As it is, you boast and brag.  All such boasting is evil. Anyone, then who knows the good he out to do and doesn’t do it, sins. James 4: 13-17

A Year with Aslan: Day 22 – Minding Our Own Business

To be honest, as much as I’m loving my daily Narnian readings, I have more to say about my reading out of James tonight – and who know…maybe I”ll find a connection between the two…

But tonight’s reading speaks about taming the tongue, or minding what comes out of the mouth, that the tongue is the fiercest weapon our body weilds…capable of bringing people to their knees. 
And I’m all for controlling what I say…because God knows I need to sometimes.  What comes out of our mouths…the words we say are a direct reflection of what’s going on in our hearts…and sometimes that freaks me out…especially when I find myself biting my tongue in anger.  Because I know what I’m thinking…and just because the words don’t come out…the thought is still there…and I don’t like the person I am when those thoughts are there.

But what about the person I am when I keep certain thoughts to myself…knowing they could cause pain if said out loud…but knowing it may be doing more harm if kept quiet?
For so long I’ve witnessed the downward spiral that seems to be my brother’s life…his way of making decisions….or not making decisions.  And it hurts to watch.  I see a relationship that needs mending…a marriage that isn’t…a sibling relationship I wish could be…
and I’m afraid to speak my mind. 
I’m afraid of what will come out – I’m more afraid, I guess, of what may come out of my brother’s mouth.  Because, while I can control mine…I can’t control his…

In tonight’s passage of Narnia – Professor Kirk advises the older siblings to mind their own business.   And maybe it’s good advice.  Maybe it’s best if I don’t stick my nose into the business of others…my brother’s business…and let him fall on his own.  Because they way he seems to be going…I honestly have to wonder how much help I can be.

I know James is talking more about minding the words of anger, hatred, and contempt that may come from the mouth.  And…those I have to work on.   I can’t imagine what God may be thinking when I’m driving sometimes, singing along with a worship song only to stop mid-chorus to yell at the driver in front of me to move a little faster…  Or when I’m frustrated with the dogs when they bark…or the cat when he gets into things…or when my routine is broken even the slightest…
My heart’s not always a pretty picture.

But, I wonder what James would say about speaking the truth…as ugly as it may be.  I wonder what Professor Kirk would say…
Because despite the words that come out, they’re not meant to cause pain, but to promote healing – and that’s got to be a good thing, right?

Fixing the Distance

My relationship with my grandmother has never been a mystery to most people who know me.  My memories of our relationship are not what I would really think of the typical grandmother/granddaughter relationship.
Nana and I never baked cookies together when I was a kid.
I never really even looked forward to going to her house much, to tell the truth.
There was so much stress and tension in our relationship, simply because I felt no real affection emanating from her toward me (at least not all that often).  Expressions regarding my weight…my excessive weight were more likely to be heard from her than I love you.

I remember one particular time my brothers and I were staying with Nana and Papaw – typically when my parents were out-of-town (mostly for visits to the Mayo Clinic for Mom’s check-ups) – I remember I’d taken my bike with me (we only lived a block and a half from them as we grew up).  I was riding my bike around the block and wrecked.  I remember walking my bike back to the house, tears streaming down my face.  I remember my grandmother poking her head out the upstairs window and calling out to me, What are you crying about now!?  My grandfather was the one that took me in, examined my bumps and scraps, and cleaned them up for me.

It was in my grandfather’s lap I’d sit at night and rock. 

Over the past several years, really since I made my first trip to Northern Ireland, I’ve seen a change in our relationship.  Maybe there’s more a sense of kinship now, I’m not sure.  But things are slightly different. 
There aren’t the constant remarks concerning my weight and occasionally Nana will say she loves me.

I think maybe that’s what makes these last couple weeks so…confusing for me.

All my life I’ve felt cheated out of a relationship with my grandmother.  I’m not sure how many times I’ve thought, had my dad’s mother not died before I was born….then I’d have a real grandmother.
And part of me feels shame for thinking such thoughts…
But, given the track record with my grandmother…I don’t know that one would blame me.

I remember in high school, my mom was going back to the Clinic for a procedure.  Michael and I were going to stay with Nana and Papaw, but I ended up making arrangements to stay with a friend.  I was shaking as I called Nana to tell her I’d be staying somewhere else, that I thought it best for both of us, given the tense relationship we had.  Well, you’re the one who never get’s along, she snapped over the phone.
I hung up in tears that day and took my bags over to my friend’s house.

I’ve learned to do what’s asked of me, driving my grandmother somewhere when needed…offering her a chair when she comes in.  Sometimes we even talk and carry on a decent conversation.  Though most times, if I’m sitting at the store and she comes in especially, we’ll sit in silence for a few minutes and then I’ll get up and walk away.

I’ve never known how to carry on a conversation with her….and it saddens me.

For two weeks, now, Nana’s been clinging onto life following  major hear surgery.  She’s been on a respirator, sedated, battling kidney failure.  I watch my family members respond with tears and anxious prayers for a full recovery.  I hear the doctor’s reports, some days are good and some days (like today) aren’t. 
We’re not sure how she’ll fair once she’s off the respirator, if and when the fluid build-up is alleviated (they did a round of dialysis today to help) if she’ll even make a turn around.  She’s barely awake as it is….

It pains me to see my family hurting.
It pains me to see my grandmother failing…

It pains me to think of what I’ve missed out on all these years….what could have been.
It pains me to think…that should she make a full recovery…I have no idea how to even begin fixing the distance that has plagued us all my life.

Love ’em Like Jesus

I’ve had this phrase running through my head for several hours now – wondering what exactly it means.
There’s a lot going on with the family right now – a lot that calls a few things into question about what I previously thought about…some people. And it makes me wonder how much is too much…how much is not enough…and maybe even, where lines should be drawn.

I’ve had the idea thrown around that maybe I’m where I am to be a witness to the people around me – and I’m not opposed to that idea. The idea that I’m still in Cynthiana for a reason hasn’t escaped me – but maybe…what if…I’m being the wrong kind of witness?

So often I assume “love them like Jesus” just meant unconditional love – love the “least of these”… “do unto others”…
but…even God tells people the things they need to hear…and sometimes He doesn’t tell them in a “still small voice” – sometimes God gets tired of whispering and decides to yell…
I mean – Jesus storming the temple to overturn the tables of the money-changers didn’t mean he didn’t love them…he just didn’t like what they were doing…right?
So, why am I constantly walking on eggshells with the people around me, afraid to hurt feelings…afraid to start an argument…to say what I feel about what I’m seeing and hearing?
What if what I have to say is exactly what they need to hear? What if I tell someone to get off their butt and get a job? What if I tell someone they need to start taking responsibility for the decisions they’ve made in life…a child…a lifestyle…
what if???
It doesn’t mean I don’t love them – right?
I want to see the people in my life – in my family – succeed and be happy with what they do, with what they have. I want them to thrive – I want them to lead a life of example…of integrity.

What I’m seeing right now is NOT what I call living a life of example – a life of integrity…
and sure, I’ve thought that maybe they don’t know what that looks like…but, I know that’s not true.

Things are so messed up – and I’m not sure if “loving” them one way will hurt them more than if I “loved” them another way.

I’m saying all this, yet I’m still trying to form the thoughts in my mind – I guess really…what I want to say is what I should be saying…and maybe…after some time of prayer and consideration…I’ll have the courage to say what needs to be said.

Lessons from a 4-year-old

I was playing Play-Doh with my neice last weekend…I think it was last weekend  – I’m losing my mind in my old age…
whenever it was – we were playing…at least she was.

For my neice’s birthday, my grandparents bought her this Play-Doh set – you can make popcorn, hotdogs, ice cream – it’s really kinda cool.  I never had Play-Doh as a kid, and well…yeah…I’m a little jealous of the whole thing.
But anyway, she’s been begging me to play with her ever since she opened it.  So – a month later, Michael and I are celebrating our birthday and finally we get to play Play-Doh.
I’m laying out newspaper, clearing off the table, attempting to keep an area specifically designated for the mess I know will be coming.

So, there we are, sitting at the kitchen table – rolling out wads of Doh – mashing it…and yes…mixing it – I always hated Play-Doh commercials – they make the things look so simple – they have colors on top of colors, making perfect looking hamburgers, perfect looking ice-cream cones…perfect looking everything.  I knew if I tried to make a proper looking ice-cream cone, the yellow would mix in with the brown, the white would mix in with the pink, etc.  It never came out that way –

did it matter to Caitie??? 
she proceeds to mix the brown with the red, the white with the yellow, and the green with the brown – we’ve got lumps of Blah-Doh as she continues to roll and mash!
I couldn’t help but watch in amazement as her face is just riddled with joy and excitement – all the while I’m continually picking pieces of Doh out of the noddle-making traps, the stencils, and of course…the kitchen table.

“You don’t care if your messy, do you?” I asked her as she moved her work from the table to the chair in which she sat – all-the-while getting bits of Play-Doh in her hair, on her clothes, and on my mom’s nice seat cushions…
“You like being messing, don’t you?”

“I just like to have fun,” she laughed.  “And you like to clean…”

I just got schooled….

Stress-free Living

I feel like writing…something…anything…
I’ve been sitting at the computer today, looking at cabins in Gatlinburg – not really because I have a huge desire to go to Gatlinburg, but because my grandfather has decided to take the whole family on a vacation this summer. Doesn’t really seem like a vacation to me – but they think it’ll be the last time our whole family can get together …

A vacation is something that takes you AWAY from stress, to a place that doesn’t remind of you home…not something that CAUSES stress
A cramped cabin with 20+ people isn’t my idea of fun – maybe it used to be…when we all had something more than blood-line in common.

I don’t know – it seems to be causing more stress than anything – trying to coordinate schedules for that many people is really a nightmare. I don’t know what my job situation will be this summer – so I can’t really say with certainity that I can or cannot go.

It’s not that I don’t love Gatlinburg…and it’s not that i don’t love my family…there’s just a lot of stress that comes with my family. I guess it’s the same for most families. It’s just that I’m around it ALL THE TIME and I’d really like a vacation to get away from it –
I mean, I keep waiting for a job to get me away from it…just seems backwards to me.

In all actuality I’d prefer a week at the beach with my immediate family to a long weekend in the mountains with everyone. Looking at cottages in Atlantic Beach, NC has me nostalgic for the Outer Banks and the way vacations used to be with my family – when I felt comfortable with my family.
Reading Nicholas Sparks novels doesn’t help the situation either –

That’s another thing…I’ve never read a book that uses the setting as well as Sparks does. The setting is practically a character in his book! It’s amazing how sensory his novels are – at least it’s that way with “The Last Song”
– what I wouldn’t give for a job in North Carolina – for a view of the ocean, for a cottage on the beach…
talk about stress-free living!!

Attachment disorder

I waiting for a document to attach to my e-mail…
it’s taking forever, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of lesson I can pull from this. Not sure there’s actually a LESSON to be pulled from attaching a document – especially a document highlighting a restaurant that no longer exists – place is just a parking lot now.

Although it makes me think about my grandfather –
it was his bright idea to feature historic places around Cynthiana in the free monthly/bi-montly catalog of businesses offered in town. Of course, I’m the one writing it up – making sense out of my grandfather’s illegible handwriting and wondering if he really has all his facts – and well, let’s face it – memories in order.
The man is 87 – sharp as a tac most days – still driving my mom (and everyone else) crazy with his never say die attitude with the family business (don’t even get me started on that).
(Five minutes later…still waiting for the attachment to take hold)…

Anyway – my less-than-200-word feature article features the Lemonette Restaurant (something I imagine to be like the diner in Pleasantville or Back to the Future) – kids in their poodle skirts coming in on a Friday night ordering burgers and a cherry coke – dancing to whatever song is playing on the juke box – greasers greasing their hair, hitting the pinball machine a little too hard (ignoring the warnings of the fountain attendant to keep their hands off the glass)…
(still attaching)
Makes me nostalgic for the days I never knew…or at least makes me want to watch Pleasantville (or at least an episode of Leave it to Beaver or something).

Kids these days…they don’t know what they’re missin’.
(I’m giving up on the attachment)