I Wish I Could Be YOU!

I sometimes feel perfectly content with life, and who I’ve become…
that is until I see someone or something that’s more than, better than, who I am
and what I have.

I mostly love being me. Except when I have those days…
where I forget to pick my kids up from school and they have to call me.

Those days when I open the door on the side of the road for my husband who started to walk home
because I was late, only to look up and see it isn’t my husband after all.

Those days when I stay up to make bread, using the last our precious ingredients, only to forget to add the butter.

Ya know those days.   

Comparison is an evil beast.  Comparison brings death.

 

It’s bedtime here and I’m about to dream.
I sometimes dream I am you.

You walk into my schools all organized with your stuff on wheels all nice and neat.
Your party is planned, mine is not.
As you stroll by perfectly put together
I pray you don’t see me with the cheese dip that spilled all over my car.
My three legged crock pot tipped.
As you walk by I say to myself,
“Today, just this once, why can’t I be you instead of me?”  

There you are at church with your friends.
I hear your laughter and see your smiles.
There’s this hollow invisible feeling inside me
I want what I have to look like what yours appears to me to be.
I’m suddenly not thankful
as I sit empty inside and I wish I were you not me.

I read your blog I see your tweets.  
You cry and and cyper-space hands you a tissue.
I wonder how, I can’t see why
What’s the difference between you and me?
I’m not sure, I can’t figure it out,
but I will dream tonight of what it’s like if I could be you
and you could be me.

Your on the play ground, your at the mall, in my inbox and mailbox,
even in the stall.
Your on TV and in the news, at the gym,
at my restraunt and you wear cool shoes. 

I want out of this body, out of this mind; it’s not working, it’s striving,
to be all that you are; everything that it’s not.
I feel frustrated, I feel strife.

I’d rather right now be Barney Fife.

(hey it’s the middle of the night and it had to end… and I’m not you after all)

 

You most likely never have those days or thoughts because your you.
But I’m me and sometimes I let comparison creep in, o.k. every day
I let comparison creep in.  It’s my bent.  I’m fighting it.

Jesus, 
You love me just the way I am.
Thank you.
Help me not to compare myself.
Grow in me a heart that is content, pleased, and satisfied
with who you’ve made me to be.
Show me in love my blind spots so I can grow and mature
taking the best of the qualities you made me with
and using them to reflect your light.
Love me today in all my shortcomings.
Amen.
 

Please Like Me:

In the silence of this setting I steal moments to let my heart be as the water and reflect on this new year.  Here the water is still and serene; but only a few meters down shallow rocks cause it to ripple in a song that is neither happy or sad but rather what you want it to be.

A tear steal down and I find in a moment all the emotions of this year flood out but only for a moment as I am not alone and this is not the moment to add water to water.  That will be for a later time.

The depth of feeling that hold my heart hostage  in these moments sing a sad song that has lamented over my life.  Seeping in slowly and mythodically digging it’s wrangled roots into the crevises of who I am.

It un-nerves me like nothing else and I find the shreek that I cry is a muffled attempt, a plea for help, but the words and actions that  trip out are so misunderstood.  

My life is good.  It’s in the soil of all that is good and well that dark shadows loom and evil works it’s will against me.  It’s the lie in my thought that speaks to me of being unliked, unloved, friendless, and alone.

It’s whispers drive me and under that breath I strive.
I strive for your approval, your friendship, your love.

It’s a lonely place.  It’s a quiet place.  It’s a place that knows tears and questions.

The leaves echo and mock my hearts cry:

will you please like ME?  Will someone be my friend?

I feel too

I walk into your home where there are lots of people I don’t know.
You think I’m rude perhaps; quiet on the chair, unengaged.

I don’t know what to say, how to find the common ground.
I’m afraid.
Maybe you won’t like me, maybe I’ll give you my thoughts and memories
and you won’t care and I’ll be left standing there again; alone as you walk away
to more fascinating things.
I’ve been hurt.  I am  hurt. 

You ask me to go out and hang and I’m reluctant.  Maybe you think I’m just shy
or anti-social.
I’m curling up inside over the history of one time Starbuck friends I thought would be life long relationships.
I’m not sure I have strength to try one more time.
My eyes sparkle.  I want to.  It’s the cry of my heart to be with…  but I’m afraid.  Too afraid right now.
Of course I can’t tell you that, so I’ll be busy instead… but I’ll get back with you.

You see me at church.  We are all smiles.
We chat and all seems swell.
“We should get together sometime”, you say.
My eyes glaze over and I suddenly have to go.
Perhaps you think I’m rude, or off, or maybe it’s just you.
Inside I’m dying.  It’s the 8 people before you who said the same thing, week after
week with no intention of follow thru; it’s become the nice thing to say.
It poison’s my need for authentic and I’m dying inside.
I feel misunderstood.  Very misunderstood. 

It’s not that I don’t want to be your friend.  It’s this hurting place that’s afraid to trust again so I build walls to protect my heart and my walls keep you out when I want to let you in.
Please pursue me anyway.  I need you.  I want you. I just don’t know how to ask anymore.  respond anymore. live anymore.

Will no one knock now?  alone.  
Will no one ask now?  quiet.
Will no one?

“I’ve Really Enjoyed My Life… There Is Not One Part of It I’m Not Thankful For…”

I was chatting on the phone with Nana.
Nana is my favorite person in the world.

She told me today there is not one part of her life she is NOT thankful for.
WIth a warmth in her voice that makes me soft and melty she says,
“I’ve really enjoyed my life.”

That’s nice and all but if anyone could not have enjoyed life she would own the rights.

Married to an abusive man who raped, beat, and nearly killed her and her 5 children on more than one occasion.  She lived with a devil and suffered his wrath.
He actually burned their home down to get insurance money to support his booze.

She’s lived on the streets homeless with her kids, and has seen hard times in her life.
But she’s one of those people who always loves.
As long as I’ve known her she has always turned hard times into good times.
Quick to forgive, she loves to a fault if there is such a thing and people are healed because of it.
I know I have been. 

I want to be more like her!
I want to enjoy the simple things in my life and be thankful in all things good and bad.
I want to see the best in people. 
I want to be like Nana.

If I Could Only be This Creative…

They say true art is taking something ordinary and transforming it into something extra ordinary.
I LOVE IT when artists take emotions & expieriences from my living room and use them to make me laugh.  I sit back and think… now why didn’t I think of that??? 

This one is my new favorite!  Watch it, did it make your smile crack?

My Wildest Dreams

When I was a little girl every day was an adventure; each moment a gift; each season a time to dream.
There were the dreams of being with certain people, becoming a certain people.  
Dreams colored with achievements, places, relationships, quests and searches, love and hope. Ideals that were beyond me. 

Nothing was impossible.  Nothing could stand in my way.  I loved to dream.

Out the window… under the sky… in  the yard… at the park… in the woods… dreams were made to be created and I gave time my fair share; for I am a dreamer.

There are forces in life that willed me to dream.

But then I grew up and in the process reality checked in and paid for my dreams handing me a substitute that felt real.  I bought it’s ways, tasted it’s flavor, choked on it’s lie, and died.

I traded dreams for budgets, jobs, more practical ways of doing things.  I put on a coat of someone else’s ideas about  how the world is and forgot how to dream.