The Pile I’m Standing In

“So this is my prayer: that your love will flourish and that you will not only love much but well” (Philippians 1:9, The Message).

I haven’t been able to shake these words all week. During a season when I feel particularly mean and selfish, Paul’s prayer is like a speck of clear blue sky on my dark and stormy heart. In my darkest moments, loving much and loving well feels about as plausible to me as a rainless winter in Seattle.

While I’m aware of the great changes taking place in my heart - changes that have brought more peace to my home and marriage - I still feel tight fisted anger inside me, my knuckles wrapped tightly around me, my way, and my time.

I read Paul’s prayer, caressing it like a postcard from a warm and sunny place. “Wish you were here,” it taunts me. But I am not. I am here, feeling dark and twisty.

It is as if I am enslaved to my own selfishness and anger - held, clenched, captive, to my own desires. Romans 6:17 in The Message says, “All your lives you’ve let sin tell you what to do…” And this is where I find myself: I’ve let sin tell me what to do. I’ve said, “fuck you!” to my new master, Jesus, and listened to the old one: myself. As I wrestle with this issue, more and more I realize how much my actions give Jesus the finger.

I find this both discouraging and hopeful.

Discouraging because this is the thread, the root, that weaves in and out of all my past and current depression and rage issues (with the exception of the postpartum depression era). I feel as if my ongoing struggle with this indicates a failure on my part for my inability to fix it or get over it or move on. Only recently have I come to realize my error in this line of thinking, which I will get to in another post.

But I am also hopeful, because if you were to read through my archives from 2005 (the Crazy era) you would find much despair and defeat, but very little hope. And now? I read Paul’s words about loving much and loving well, and though it feels impossible to me, I believe Paul’s prayer can be made real in my life. Loving much and loving well has become a desire of my heart, which is a far cry from where I’ve been.

More later.

During (self-inflicted) chaotic times I often wake up in the morning and will myself into getting my shit together. I declare, Today is the Day I Will Focus! I make lists, I have good intentions, I am motivated…

And then I get out of bed.

I’m like a cat distracted by a fly. I walk into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher, but instead end up doing three other things THAT ARE NOT EMPTYING THE DISHWASHER, just as an example. It’s worse when it comes to keeping the books because we do our bookkeeping with Quicken, which is on the computer, which is dangerously close to the Internet, which is the evil birth place of time-suckers, Twitter and Google Reader.

July flew past me, and I’m not sure I even noticed much of it. I missed opportunities to relax and be with friends, my kids missed out on fun activities, I wasn’t able to help people who needed me - all because I’ve been “busy.” I’ve missed living my life In Balance.

Last week I recalled the last time I wrote about this busyness, which led me to this great post by a friend on Frantic Busy vs. Smart Busy. In rereading her post, I realized this is how I’ve been living:

This kind of busy is the gal that is out of breath because she is running in circles, like a dog chasing its own tail. This busy gal is not ever getting time to rest or to enjoy those she loves or she does do those things and lets everything else fall apart around her. She isn’t really busy at all, she creates chaos by not managing/stewarding well, then has to urgently respond to the chaos- which can mask as busyness. Does she enjoy her life creating chaos? Maybe, frantic is fun? She is a busy gal, but she doesn’t seem to ever get it all done.

The other morning Bryan took a picture of my (not so) effective sign when he went into the bathroom to shower for work:

My focus found itself under a pile of used pull-ups and dirty underwear, forgotten. After Bryan and I laughed at the absurd irony of this crime scene, I felt the discouragement settle in: The failure. The ne’er-do-wells. The despair.

But all hope is not lost. The Lord is showing me my heart through this, and I’m being led through his grace into a new mindset. I see changes being made in my core that will result in new behaviors. I think lack of focus will always be my Achilles heel, but I don’t have to be mastered by it.

I can be the master over it.

I haven’t done a link post in several weeks - mostly because I’ve been too busy to do much exploring on the internet. I’m slowly starting to check out the blogs of ladies I met at Blogher, and will likely have things to share next week.

In the meantime, please read these posts. These are the hilarious, thoughtful, and poignant posts that were part of the BlogHer Community Keynote I participated in. Also, if you’d like to watch any of them on video, you can do that here (this video has a been view of my super-fine new haircut than my own video).

(thanks to fussy for all the links!)

—

Best Rant

Sarah Brown, “Attention: I have some things to say about Goldfish snack crackers.”

Danielle Wiley, “I am indeed a full-time mother, and yes, my daughter does watch Hannah Montana”

Megan Smith, “Michelle Obama Enjoys “The View:” A Recap”

Mr. Lady, “It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the sudden stop.”

Heather Barmore, “Guess who wants Typepad for Mother’s Day”

Blogging About Blogging

Liz Gumbinner, “I’m official! Hooray!”

Suebob Davis, “Blogging makes you lose your mind”

Stephanie Bergman, “Has Twitter Ruined Blogging?”

Zan, “Note to Self in the Age of the Internet: A Necessary Reminder”

Parenting

Casey, “The one about the overdose.”

Doug, “Five going on fifteen”

Polly Pagenhart, “Thanks giving”

Lindsay Ferrier, “Every Mom Needs a Little Wiggle Room”

Letter to My Body

Yvonne, “Life Changing Words”

Schmutzie, “#744: I Nudged Him Hard, Saying: “Come, Gloopy Bastard, As Thou Art”"

Jen Zug, “He should really teach all young men everywhere how to extract the truth from tired, chubby, stay at home moms”

Laurie White, “Letter to My Body, Letter to My Face”

Humor

Antonia Cornwell, “Christmas Poem”

Jenny Lawson, “High”

Evany Thomas, “Say my name!”

Deb, “Too much of a good thing?”

Angela, “The albatross and the whales, they are my brothers.”

I remember playing HORSE with a basketball once as a kid - maybe in the third or fourth grade. A friend was over, and we were in my driveway challenging each other with our shots, trying to not be the first one who missed enough to spell out the word.

On this particular occasion I was certain my friend cheated. I don’t remember how. I’m not even certain how it’s possible to cheat playing HORSE. But whatever I perceived happened, it made me so mad I threw the basketball at her. I threw it so hard, and right at her side as she tried to get out of the way, that it knocked the wind out of her.

She went home crying.

Word got back to my parents and they gave me a stern lecture and demanded I go to her house and apologize.

I refused.

You must go and apologize.

Fine, then. Ground me. I’m not apologizing!

I don’t remember how it all turned out, but I do know I was willing to give up anything to stand my ground. I was tenacious like that, and my mother recently told me she was not prepared for my fury. Apparently my older brother and sister were “easy” compared to me.

And now?

The proverbial payback. My own daughter has a will that could bend steel with a mere thought. A mother and daughter who both possess strong wills is typically not a great combination, but I digress. Perhaps a post for another day.

But I thought of this story when I found myself in a similar stand-off with Ruthie this week. Like me, Ruthie sets her resolve, and she sets it strong. I don’t give ultimatums, but I believe in the natural consequences of our actions - like the time we canceled a family outing because of her behavior.

She’s too young to “ground,” but when she refuses to listen or throws a fit, I give time outs and I take things away. I’ve taken away toys, privileges, and favorite clothes, but none of that seems to faze her. She hasn’t been attached to anything enough for it to matter. She just takes the hit and moves on.

Until now.

Bryan bought her this pair of shoes on Sunday after they went out to lunch. It’s her first pair of Big Girl shoes, in that she’s outgrown the toddler sizes. What you must know about my daughter to understand the impact of owning these shoes, is that she is a SHOE WHORE. At the mall? She darts away from me and I find her fondling $120 red patent leather shoes in Nordstrom’s. When a lady walks by with pretty three inch heals she’ll actually approach her and say in her sweet little voice, “I LIKE YOUR SHOES!”

These shoes that Bryan let her pick out? She sleeps in these shoes.

So the other day when she was refusing to go to bed, when she folded her arms in a huff and declared, “I’m NOT going to bed until you give me candy!” I said, “I’m sorry you feel that way. Now give me the shoes.”

Wailing. Moaning. Rending of garments.

I know I should have felt so sorry for her sad little heart, but inside I was tapping my fingers together like a villain with a plan: I discovered her kryptonite!

About a month ago a new friend asked me how I met Bryan, and I was caught up in telling our story. It’s a fun story, and I love to tell it, so please ask me to whenever you see me next. It makes me smile.

Today is our 7th wedding anniversary. And in writing a portion of our beginnings here in song, I see I am even more fortunate than I first believed. Woven through our story is the purposeful intention of a very patient man. Not a word wasted, not a move meandered. Just a wildly intentional, poetic, man who knows how to woo a woman.

You can listen to the mix here (open in a new browser or window).

Barry Louis Polisar - All I Want Is You

Miss Li - Oh Boy

Florence and the Machine - Kiss With a Fist

Beck - Think I’m In Love

The Weepies - Gotta Have You

Tom Baxter - Better

Bruce Cockburn - Isn’t That What Friends Are For

The Waterboys - Strange Boat

Over the Rhine - I Want You to Be My Love

Belle & Sebastian - If You Find Yourself Caught in Love

She & Him - Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?

Landon Pigg - Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop

—

“I want you to be my love.”

It seems our relationship always had a soundtrack attached to it, even from the very first eyebrow-raising interaction. In 2001 Bryan did a substantial amount of pro bono web development for a non-profit I was working for, so he was in and out of the office quite a bit. One day in February he sat down in the empty chair of my office and we chatted about nothing in particular that I remember. When he got up to leave, my friend says to me, You should see if he wants to go with us to the show….

She was referring to Over the Rhine, whose tickets for an upcoming show at the now defunct Crocodile Cafe were about to go on sale. If you’ve never heard of Over the Rhine, it’s because they are a somewhat obscure band from Ohio with a huge cult following. So when I called after him as he left and asked if he’d like to go with us to the show, I saw his eyebrows flicker up just a little as he paused, then said yes, he would love to go.

The next morning when I came into work I read the following email from Bryan:

Jen,

I just wanted to thank you for making my day yesterday.

Going to see OTR is good. Going to see them with a beautiful woman who really appreciates them — well, that’s better — much better.

bryan

As it turns out, he was also a huge Over the Rhine fan and was quite smitten with the idea I knew and apparently loved them as well. His email swooped in and clearly communicated this would not be a group outing, and that he was, in fact, asking me out on a date. Though before this reality sunk in, I found myself shouting at my computer in a cavernous office with no rugs or curtains to mute my cries, “WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!”

The Boss Man came in, read the email, smirked, and nodded his head as if to say, “Well played, Bryan. Well played.”

—

“I think I’m in love but it makes me kind of nervous to say so.”

For our second date Bryan took me to see O Brother Where Art Thou at the Harvard Exit, then we had drinks and dinner somewhere on Capital Hill. I swooned at all this attention, all the chivalry. I had just come off a two year crush on a boy who didn’t reciprocate my feelings, and wasn’t used to someone actually being into me. But this also unsettled me. I felt I was being swooped into this relationship emotionally before I completely understood what I really wanted - a pattern my friend had graciously pointed out in the past.

So I clarified.

“I just need you to know I’m not sure how I feel about where all this is going,” I said over dinner. “I like you, but I don’t know much beyond that.”

“How about this,” he said, leaning in. “I’ll just keep asking until you say No.”

Which of course meant I would NEVER EVER IN A MILLION YEARS say no, because at these words I was hooked.

—

“Isn’t that what friends are for?”

Several weeks after our first date Bryan had to leave town for a job out of the country. The trip was three weeks long, and was situated right at the point in our relationship when you either part with pleasantries or go all-in. Bryan had been married before, and I was approaching 30 - young by most standards these days, but I was tired of being in The Game. Neither of us wanted to nurture another broken heart, so there was an unspoken urgency - at least on my part - to Figure It All Out before he left.

I don’t remember what solidified my decision, but suddenly I was feeling fairly certain I would marry Bryan. So I leaned in for a kiss, and in my mind that was the beginning of our covenant. Having participated in all kinds of dysfunctional relationships from the time I was in middle school, I knew this one was different. I don’t know how I knew, especially since we hardly knew each other, but I just knew.

I asked to borrow some CD’s from his music collection. If he couldn’t be with me for the next three weeks, I wanted to know more about him through his music. Bruce Cockburn’s Breakfast In New Orleans was one of the CD’s he gave me, and I listened to it the night before he left. The next morning on the way to the airport, I gave him a card with these lyrics in it from the song:

I’ve been scraping little shavings off my ration of light
And I’ve formed it into a ball
And each time I pack a bit more onto it
And I make a bowl of my hands
And I scoop it from its secret cache under a loose board in the floor
And I blow across it
And I send it to you against those moments when the darkness blows under your door

I swear that I’m not embellishing the story when I tell you he said he thought of me, too, when he heard these lyrics again, which is why he gave me the CD. We each had a Complicated Past prior to our collision (and who doesn’t?), so we had a deep personal knowledge of Things Not Working Out. Some of that healing had to take place before we met, but the rest? We needed each other for that.

—

“I think that possibly maybe I’m falling for you.” -Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

The morning Bryan left the country we had breakfast together at the Blue Star Cafe and Pub in Wallingford (which is what I kept calling Dottie’s True Blue Cafe in San Francisco). I had another moment of panic, somehow thinking I was just the poor schlep who happened to say Yes to this guy. I knew he’d asked other women out recently before he asked me, and I wondered, Should I have said no? They said no. Should I have said no, too? How did I know I wasn’t just going along with this because he was asking me to?

Questions swirling (which is just a euphemism for holy shit, am I really thinking about making a commitment?!).

I don’t remember much of our conversation after that, but obviously I was talked down off the ledge (It’s funny to me how I manage to clearly remember the moments of panic, but not the words that brought peace). Later, when Bryan proposed marriage, he gave me the first poem he ever wrote for me. The entire thing is here, but in these verses he references that Blue Star Cafe conversation:

she has just asked me
how i know
that she is the one

and there is so much to say about the past and the future and the moment unfolding before us — sitting across a table eating Saturday morning eggs at the breakfast pub on 45th and Stone

she wants to know
the method of my surety –
how I have discerned
its measure is not madness

and my answer is simply this –
i know because i have chosen.

chosen to dive for these pearls
chosen to dig for this treasure
chosen to love her first
and last
and among
all that lies in this middle

and make no mistake
there is much that lies in this middle –
split tongue undertones
of compatibilities?
too soons?
and happily ever afters?

i will push these half-truths into full light
and say plainly –

we are not compatible –
we are wicked
and only by Grace made able

we are not going to live “happily” ever after –
we will be nourished by Joy,
through famine into laughter

we will be blessed in restful wrest –
a marriage bed of ordered mess

—

“Were sailing on a strange boat; Heading for a strange shore…” -The Waterboys

We were engaged the first weekend of April, just a month and a half after our first conversation about Over the Rhine’s upcoming show. Like many young women, I had grand ideas of what I wanted my wedding to be like. I had the songs picked out, the dance music picked out, I had the flowers picked out - all I needed was to insert a groom.

One day on a drive out to the country - I think we were going to a friend’s wedding - Bryan put on a CD by The Waterboys, and Strange Boat came on. A hush came over me as I listened. I made him play it several more times.

And then?

“I think this is the song we need to have in our wedding. We have to get rid of all the other songs and use just THIS one.”

And that bastard? He smirked. And he said, “I was hoping you would come to that conclusion.”

He’s been subtly planting ideas in my head ever since.

—

“a kick in the teeth is good for some” - Kiss With a Fist.

We were married July 27, 2001 in a hidden garden on Queen Anne. We stood under a canopy of tree branches. The caterers forgot the forks. I walked through the grass with my herb bouquet and my green dress, and I got hitched.

We have an obscene amount of fun in our marriage. No two people should be allowed to have this much fun without first getting high, but we somehow manage. When we fight, we fight hard, and I fight dirty. And there was that one year, the one after Thomas was born, that I wondered if we would make it.

But we did.

And now I hear this song, and it makes me laugh because it is so true, a kiss with a fist is better than none.

Have you ever seen hydrangeas this color? I haven’t. Pinks! and Purples! These were along the waterfront near The Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco.

Bryan has a reputation among our family and friends for making things happen with video and computers (he recently strapped a video camera to his life vest when we went white water rafting), so we received all sorts of requests for my reading to be recorded.

He sent me to BlogHer equipped with our Flip, and Kristin shot this video for me:

The most frequently asked question I heard was, “are you nervous?!” Honestly, I have to say I wasn’t. I had a rush of adrenaline as I waited for my turn, and maybe a little flutter in my chest as I prepared for the trip, but over all I felt pretty confident. Like I said before, speaking in front of a crowd is not what keeps me awake at night - especially when I’m just reading from a page. What made me more nervous over the weekend was having a single conversation over breakfast with a complete stranger. I’m so terrified of 1:1 conversation that I kept excusing myself to refill my coffee mug or find more pineapple.

But midway through Saturday I was even getting my networking groove on, and made some great contacts and met lots of new (to me) bloggers. I even got daring and tossed out a Tweet-up opportunity, risking breakfast with total strangers - ON PURPOSE. Laurie responded, and we ended up having a great time standing in line for an hour waiting for a great breakfast. I can’t say I would have been that patient alone, so having a couple bloggers to chat with while waiting spared me a mediocre breakfast somewhere else.

The whole experience was amazing, from receiving the announcement I’d be reading, to the curtain call at the end. Upon returning to normal life, fellow keynote reader, Schmutzie, twittered, “Someone run into my cubicle and call me adorable, STAT. I can’t take this lack of specialness a moment longer.”

I whole heartedly agree with that feeling. Thank you, again, Mrs. Kennedy, for opening the doors wide to the blogging community and giving us an opportunity show off what we can do.

It occurred to me this year that Sufjan Stevens may never release another album EVER AGAIN. It sure seems like that, anyway, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. But listening to Andrew Bird play live at Zoo Tunes tonight, I decided I just might be able to live with that.

Andrew Bird is brilliant.

I am in awe of his whistle. And his clap. And his ability to create layers upon layers of beautiful melody right there in front of us using a loop machine. I can’t even read and stay awake at the same time, so this kind of multitasking was inconceivable to me. It was amazing. I have a new crush, so move over Scott Berkun and Hugh MacLeod - Andrew Bird is In The House.

I know you’re wildly anticipating the video of my BlogHer Community Keynote reading, but I would first like to torture you with a few more pictures of my trip to San Francisco. (yawn).

I friend I’ve known forever and ever drove up from San Jose to spend the day with me on Sunday, and we walked ALL OVER THE UNIVERSE. We both kept commenting on how this will satisfy our need to exercise for many cheeseburgers to come.

We walked to Chinatown from the Ferry Building, and shopped, and ate Dim Sum. I had to be rolled down hill after eating a giant Hum Bao. The middle picture is me in front of the gate to Chinatown, and the one on the right is a church steeple with a plaque that says, “Son, observe the time and fly from evil.”

From Chinatown we walked up to North Beach, the Italian neighborhood. I loved this area. There was a cafe for every taste - white linens and china, or cafe tables and mugs - and most had outdoor seating along the sidewalk. We picked a casual one and sat, cups of coffee in hand, talking and people watching. The perfect pit stop to rest our feet.

From North Beach we walked up hill toward Coit Tower to get a panoramic view of the city. That little tuft of trees to the left is Washington Square in the North Beach neighborhood, and it’s at the bottom of this very very steep hill. We didn’t even walk the rest of the way up to the Coit Tower, because I was all, I THINK I’M OKAY WITH THE VIEW FROM HERE, to which my friend was quite relieved.

I was geeking out a little over the interesting architecture and the collision of lines and shapes in the financial district.

On Monday I ventured out solo, and took the bus to the Haight-Ashbury district. Maybe I was tired of window shopping and ready to go home, but my impressions of the neighborhood did not match my anticipation of it. It didn’t feel any different than walking The Ave in Seattle’s U-District - lots of hemp, lots of white boys with dreads, lots of 20-somethings who need to get a job. But I did stop in to one cafe for lunch that had this really cool bathroom. It was my favorite thing of the day.

BlogHer was held at the Westin St. Francis near Union Square - that large, rather ominous building that looks like something straight out of Gotham City. I’m sure someone has something to complain about regarding the hotel, but frankly any room with blackout curtains, a bed that soft, and the absence of children waking me in the night is a winner in my book. Oh, and I mustn’t forget to mention the double shower heads. Rocks In My Dryer took some lovely pictures inside the hotel.

Big shout out to Jen/Jenna/Jennifer of The Word Cellar, my BlogHer room mate for the weekend. We were set up on a blind date through Twitter, and it couldn’t have been a more perfect match! I hope to be sleeping with you again. Uh, wait…

Tell me, just tell me HOW I could have resisted buying this beautiful amber ring in San Francisco’s Chinatown, especially - ESPECIALLY - when my very savvy shopper friend says to the woman, "would you take FIFTEEN for this?" NEVER underestimate the power of a good bartering friend.

Sunday morning after BlogHer I took it easy, then a friend drove up from San Jose to meet me in the city. We scored free parking after a pay lot’s pay machine rejected my five dollar bill. TAKE THAT.

So I know it’s not The Daily Show or anything, but even so, I can now say to someone, “I was waiting in THE GREEN ROOM…”

On the set list, I was #16. Angela (who was last) wondered out loud if anyone would stick around to listen to us late readers. I think her nerves were being wishful.

I asked Doug of Laid Off Dad for a photo. Not my most shining moment as an anti-fangirl, but how can you resist the only rooster in the hen house?! He was very gracious, and obliged. Because he really is that awesome. Laid Off Dad is one of the first blogs I discovered Way Back When, and I have always admired his way with words.

Waiting. #16 is a long time to wait.

Meet Schmutzie. This picture totally captures the evening for me - the stage, the lights, the shadows, the curtain - it was my little moment of magical wonder. I stood there, too.

You know that little sticker they put on maps at the mall? YOU ARE HERE. This was MY moment.

Kristin shot a video of the reading with my Flip. I will post it when I get home and have a real internet connection.

Just in case you missed it, I am here:

Blogging will be… well, WHO KNOWS what could happen. But you will likely get more of the scoop if you follow my twitters.

I would love to give a big shout out to the guy in seat 24D on my flight from Seattle - he loaned me his awesome head lamp when he heard my overhead reading light was burned out. The world need more people like you in it, my friend.

In other BlogHer news of interest, Kristin’s mood rings can’t decide how she feels about being here:

You know you want me to wear this on Friday night when I read my post at the Blogher Community Keynote. And you know I’m just as tempted to do it.

I mean, seriously, look how skinny I look in this picture! I swear on the lives of both hot ABBA chicks that I am in no way as skinny as I look in this picture. It must be the off-the-shoulder neckline, or the way I’m sticking my chest out - either way it is a trick of the eye!

This evening I take off for San Francisco. I’m mostly excited, and surprisingly not nervous or insecure. I think the two years since I last attended have given me sound footing and confidence. I am who I am, and I have nothing to prove.

Of course this only means I will trip as I walk across the stage, or pee my pants just before reading. Won’t THAT be the best headline on techmeme: chubby girl with weak Kegel muscles pees in front of hundreds…