The Truth About Me

So I've been doing a LOT of thinking lately. And there is a LOT to express right now. So much so, I'm not even sure where to start. But since this is a blog about me, I'll start there.

I recently broke up with the man I met this summer. It was horrible. I was cold, solid, unyielding. I said I'd listen. But I didn't. I told him I didn't love him and slammed the door in his face. As soon as I did, I fell on my face crying on my stairs. I don't know why I did it, but I shut him out. I closed my heart, and I walked away, not caring what would happen to him, how it would impact him or make him feel. Not caring that I could be making the biggest mistake of my life. I was, after all, dumping the only man that has ever truly loved me.

But he didn't leave. He stayed. He left me a present in my mailbox. He texted the  next day. He wasn't going to give up. And so we prayed. I felt the need to pray about what should happen. I needed to know that what we were doing and where we were going was where I wanted and needed to go according to God's plan. SO we both prayed for three days. Those were the most excruciating three days of my life. I felt really strongly that we shouldn't be "together" but that I didn't want him out of my life. That didn't make sense to me, and I was so confused, I just prayed that God would provide a clear answer, the same answer to both of us.

And he did. We agreed to date. How this is different than before is only internal, and probably confined to me. But it has allowed me to take a step back emotionally. To decide and determine what it is I really want, and to hopefully find that in him.

But what this has revealed, even more than the fact that this guy loves me unconditionally, is how incredibly selfish I am. I always wondered if I was more of the introverted variety than the extroverted. However, I think what has become glaringly clear is that I am not just introverted. Yes, I would rather spend the afternoon by myself in a coffee shop, tapping away at my laptop, or reading the same book I've already read three times. But I am selfish. I don't want to share my time with anyone. I don't want to answer to anyone. I don't want anyone to question my secret darknesses and inconsistencies. I don't want to have to be honest in the way that relationships require. And I don't want to have to love like I am loved. Because it's hard. And I'm not good at it. Even as a child, I could say these same things about myself. And I have not grown up in the slightest.

And maybe that's exactly why God has put this man in my life. To help me grow up. To share my darknesses and inconsistencies with. And to show me that it is possible to love through them.

I don't know for sure if this man is that one. But I know for sure that my heart is being changed. All of the ugly layers are beginning to peel away. And I mean UGLY. I have been meaner and more selfish since the break up as these things are revealed to me than I ever have been before. My only hope is that if I cling to Jesus he will not just peel them back, but reform the heart that is somewhere beneath. Because I know it's there somewhere. I can feel it beating.

Uneasy

So I've been unhappy recently. And I can't figure out why. I'm teaching well, much better than last year, somewhat successfully juggling two jobs (I took on night school responsibilities this year in order to earn some extra cash) and have been seeing a really sweet guy that adores me. So what could be wrong?

Part of me thinks that it has something to do with the HUGE amount of upheaval I've felt over the last several months. An big unplanned purchase (new car,) a new relationship (that is still working!?) and this feeling of spiritual longing has lead me to feeling uneasy. I can't help but wonder if there is something I can delete from this equation that would help me feel more satisfied.

Because that's the real problem. I don't feel satisfied. I wonder if I could be doing more, be doing better. I wonder if this relationship is "the one" and I worry that I will make the wrong choice in so many areas of my life. And with constant decisions being made, that does not add up to feeling confident in making them. I don't see my friends, and I haven't felt the emotional support of them in a while. I know it is there, I just don't get to feel it as much or as often as I'd like. We've all grown up a little, entered into new lives, some in new places. And while they are still near and dear to my heart, I can't help but miss what we had even just a year ago. Maybe that's part of my problem. I'm grieving the loss of the life that I had. It looks different now, and I'm not ready for that.

Part of me knows the answer is easy: trust God. But...

And then I'm lost. I don't have any excuses left. I need prayer. I need rest. I need Jesus to show me my choices are right or to kindly guide me to the right ones.

A student said to me today that I'm always frowning. I know that wasn't the case just a few weeks ago. But I feel like this funk has settled over me, and I'm not happy with anything right now. I have known for a while that something was coming. Something was on the horizon that would change my life. Are these new developments those things? Is this relationship that thing? Where do I go from here?

That's the next step. Find out. None of that is easy. In fact, it's uneasy.

Note to self

You cannot rationalize away every mistake you make. Sometimes you can, but mostly you can't. To anyone listening, you will sound like an idiot, lying to yourself, making up fantastical stories of dragons...maybe not dragons...but stories to fill in the blank spaces of your mistake.
If you choose to make the mistake knowingly, you must be prepared for the repercussions: alienation, guilt, loneliness, hours of your life wasted away...
Getting out of the situation sucks. There will be ambiguity, unanswered questions (of yourself and others) and a lot of negative thoughts (about yourself and others.)

Life can suck sometimes. This is when I wish I didn't have any responsibilities, any bills or a job to keep, no expectations to meet. All of that grown up shit. Unfortunately, it's the thought that it's that way of thinking that got me here: rather than take responsibility, meet expectations and act like an a rational person in general.

I don't know. perhaps.

dis CONNECTED

All of this technology is great. So great, that I have no need for people in my life anymore. Apparently.

This isn't a pro/con list (although you know how I love lists!) of how technology affects our lives. There are plenty of those out there, and enough super-smart bloggers with more time and putting in more effort than I to do that here. Instead, A rant.

I've found over the last few months that it bothers me more and more when people tell me they read my blog. Not that I don't want them to, because in fact I have invited several people to read it, given them the address and so on. But the part about it that bothers me is the appearance of intimacy by simply READING about me. Few have offered to go out to coffee, have dinner, a ball game. And the ones that do, I anxiously await comments from, because I know that the conversation will be continued in person. This is another issue: commenting on a blog, or anywhere else on the internet, is not a valid form of friendship. Just as texting is not a conversation, a comment is usually finite. A conversation is fluid, and gives way to more than just words, but to meaning.

I'm struggling with this issue right now in particular because it seems that some of those who I thought were closest to me, have settled into a comfortable and convenient routine. Rather than spend time with me (regularly scheduled, weekly time that has been in place far longer than either of us) they think a text saying something entirely superficial will suffice. As if there is a communication quota, and the more innane words sent via cellular waves, the closer they are to meeting the quota.

I will not settle for meaninglessness. And if that is what my relationships have turned into, whether because of technology or by way of technology, something has to change. I don't know if that's leaving the technology behind, which at this point in our society would be pretty radical. Disconnecting entirely could have the opposite effect I'm longing for, and leave me even more disconnected than I am now. However, a weekly text of comment left on my blog will not suffice.

All of this to say that I want genuine connection. No cheap, digital, replacement.

"...Because I love you..."

A friend of mine, who I haven't spoken with in far too long, was in an accident yesterday. He's a teacher and coach, and was driving some of his student-athletes to their annual pre-season retreat. One student died; he's in critical condition.

This man has seriously impacted my life, though I don't know now if I will be able to express how much to him. His eternally positive mindset, his loving discipline, and constancy in all things is more than admirable, it's unfathomable. When I was wavering on whether to teach or not, it was his kind words of encouragement that reminded me that by teaching, I am loving. The unofficial lesson in his classroom: "I love you." If only I could be that kind of teacher someday...

Please pray for healing of this man's life.

Know Me

I am so thankful for good friends.

Tonight, my life suddenly (divinely?) snapped into focus, and while I'm still not sure what I'm looking at, I do know what it is that I don't want to look at.

A friend from college died this morning. I got a text tonight (as I was preparing to act recklessly and be foolish) telling me this, and I wanted to cry, throw up and run away all at the same time. I had planned on spending my evening in a less than prudent manner, perhaps partaking in a beverage or three and in the company of persons that I do not need to even waste brain cells thinking about. The kind that meet people in dark street corners, or parking lots. Literally.

Instead, as I was getting ready, two friends called me and I was roped into meeting for coffee (I have to keep up appearances after all). Then my aunt, who I almost never talk to, called me, but left no message. This is the aunt who is nearly clairvoyant, and I was sure she knew what I was up to. And then, on my way to meet my friends for coffee, intent on skipping out when I got a call or text, I did indeed receive a text. See above.

I circled the block simply in want of something to do. I wasn't sure if I should stay or go or park or what. So I parked, went inside, fidgeted, and called my friend who had texted me the news. I no longer planned on meeting any person anywhere. How is it that something so minute, in the grander scheme of things, can shake you so?

By the end of the night, all of my questions, doubts, insecurities, struggles were laid bare on the coffee table before my two friends. I was naked (metaphorically speaking) in front of people that I'm still not sure I trust. Not because I don't love them, but because I don't trust anyone. ANYONE.

But I realize I have a lot of work to do. A few weeks ago, a dear friend (indeed the one to call tonight) said to me, "I think you should spend a lot of time with Jesus. Get to know each other." I agree. I just don't trust people enough to let them get to know me.

Let's be real...

I'm not confident of my decision to be a teacher.
It's not for the most obvious reasons. I don't care that I won't be making huge amounts of money. I'm single afterall, and anything I make will be more than I'm making now. It's not the standardized testing, or the policies in place that dictates what and how I teach.

But more than that, I don't know that I can commit the way a teacher needs to commit. How do you give your whole life over to thirty plus people that will probably never appreciate you? How do you submit your time, your lifestyle to them? I'm still young, and I want to do all the young and fun and crazy things that come along with that. How do I do that, and wake up the next morning, telling my students to make good choices, teaching them to be intentional and wise, when I want to be irrational and reckless?

I guess this is perhaps put into greater perspective when you consider the age I want to teach (I think.) Middle school students begin to see through you, and the older they get the more likely it is that they will not believe you if you lie, and then grin. How do I keep my personal life and professional life as a teacher separate when so many teachers are being strung up for their personal actions in the media? Is this me being over cautious? Over anxious?

I took the first of a series of test yesterday, and my confidence wavered, or rather, continued to be undermined, after I realized I'm not even prepared for the test, much less teaching for a life time. I'm hoping this is just me freaking out, and that I'll get through it, but I really want to be making a decision that is RIGHT.How do I know?

Humility

There comes a point in every person's life where they have to, MUST, be more transparent with those that surround them than they are comfortable with. And it takes more courage than it often appears to take: to stand in front of someone and admit your greatest fear has come to reality.

I don't know that I have experienced that in it's fullness, but I know that I have tasted it for myself, and have been on the receiving side of such conversations. It takes humility to make such an admission, but I think the more humility comes when we, as the hearers, don't let that play into our judgment, our interactions, with the person before us.

I must admit I went into class expecting more excuses and more hemming and hawing, and was shocked to see my professor in the state that she was. Keep us all in your prayers. It will be a huge learning curve for us all as we continue to dig into our program, not only to become better teachers, but better humans.

moooving

So I did it. And the results are slightly unexpected.

I moved out yesterday. And the reactions from those closest to me has been heart wrenching, to say the least. I found great apartment, something I could only have dreamed I would ever live in, in the heart of downtown, thanks to the advice of a friend. I met with this same friend for coffee this weekend, only to be berated for now living alone (I hadn't slept the night there yet!) and lectured on the benefits of living with roommates. While I listened, and took to heart what she said, there is...no ARE TONS...of reasons why I want to live alone.

Let me list them for you.

1. I have never lived by myself. The kind of by myself where n one will open my door and peek their head in just because they can, or a dog will come running up the stairs and drag my underwear around the room, or my things magically disappear when someone is "cleaning."
2. I don't know if I'm messy or clean, or neat or cluttery. I've never been given the chance to find out. Someone is always imposing their expectations upon me before I can do something myself.
3. (Do you see a theme?) I really like time to myself. When I live with people, I spend time away from the house, which is actually nice, but so much time that I find myself driving circling just to find somewhere to be that is away from the people I live with. Being in public fills two needs for me: being alone, and being alone with other people. It's a sense of togetherness, of relationship, with no actual relationship other than that we are all at the same place at the same time. This in and of itself is kind of an interesting relationship to ponder when you're there...
4. Responsibility. I want to be responsible. For my bills, my rent, my environment, myself. I can't (or I just plain don't) be responsible if someone else, in most recent months my parents, is always doing everything for me.
5. It's time to F***ing grow up.

It makes it hard to stick to it when your mom won't talk to you though.

I guess that's where the growing up part comes in...yes?
I'm hoping to take some pictures of my cute new place when I get a freaking camera. I will post them for you to see.

PS Did I mention the apartment has three mini-flights of stairs to get to it? I love built in workouts. It makes me feel less guilt when I don't REALLY work out.

save the drama for your mama

It has been quite an interesting week.

Thank you for your prayers. Last night in class, we spent a good portion on Conflict Management, not textbook illustration, but real live learning. It was pretty amazing to 27 people come to consensus that, YES, there is a problem, NO we don't want it to ruin our experience or negate our learning, and YES we want to resolve it in a timely and positive manner. I can't say how much I appreciated the experience. I have never gone into something with such a sense of foreboding and walked away feeling as relieved as I did then. As the actual conflict will continue until a major player returns, and my own conversation with that player has yet to take place, I will refrain from any specific details.

The hunt is over...it's not perfect, it's not even great by any standards (unless you happen to think cute, quaint and cozy are perfect, which I'm of half a mind to think) but I'm doing it. I can't begin to explain the turmoil that took place at nine o' clock this morning, while the leasing agent stood by and watched as my parents, who asked to come and see my new home, and then refused to advise me of their opinion.

I love and respect my parents, as much as it might seem opposite, and when they act that way, as if they have nothing to with me, all the while telling me quite directly though indirectly that they disapprove of something I do, it INFURIATES me.

My dad surprising made me feel better...I'm grown and I make my own decisions, don't let anything stand in the way of those, not my mother and her manipulative ways, her guilt, my fears. If it ends up being a bad deal...get over it and move on. I thought it was appropriate then, that this was today's index over at Indexed.

Unrest

I think I finally realized why I've been feeling so incomplete lately.

Last week I flipped through the pages of a book that so correctly AND IMMEDIATELY encapsulated things I've been trying to put into words for the last few months.

I don't belong here.

I am not in a place, literally and figuratively, that nourishes my soul. That lifts me up and encourages me just by driving to work, by walking the streets, just by being among the people that call it home with ease.

I'm looking for an apartment with vigor...spending any spare second I have (and even those that aren't spare, but that I can scrape together anyway) to no avail. And part of my unhappiness with my search i think ,is that I know I'm not suppossed to stay here. The discontent I feel is soul-deep. It's not just not liking a location or the leaders, it's a general unrest, and uneasiness that makes me long for other things. greater, bigger, smaller.

I don't know if my search will be fruitful, or fruitless, but I will keep looking and see what comes up with the advent of spring. Perhaps something that will make do until my great epiphany.

SEX--in the not-so-physical-sense

Oh...it's been on my brain. But maybe not in the way you might suppose.

I have been hearing really great things about this book. Written by the same girl (gurl, lady, woman?) who wrote Juno, the fabulously fierce and unapologetic movie about all things teen wrote a memoirish book-- about her foray into the world of strippers and the sex world-- that is causing a stir. It sounds just racy enough to make me giggle, but not blush. And I like walking that line.

Along similar lines, I have been thinking about moving out. And part of the reason, as a wiser and older woman put it to me just a few days ago, is because living with your parents when you're nearly 24 is just not conducive to...life.

I went and looked at an apartment that the leasing agent clearly did not want to rent to me. Not because of me, but because of who my prospective neighbors would be. I was obviously too much of an upstanding citizen to rent from such a property. I'm in such a pickle. On the one hand, it would be so prudent to live at "home" (whatever that means anymore. I'm not sure I even know.) I could save money and then, by the time I leave for wherever fate takes me next year, mind you I will be officially in my mid-twenties by that time, I will be in a much better position to afford whatever it is that fate might choose. Right?

Except here's the thing: I don't want to be prudent. Or responsible. Or anything that remotely resembles adulthood. I want to be carefree and irresponsible. In all honesty, I want to be able to go out drinking, and not have my mom stay up making sure I get home safe. I want to be able to do my laundry. Or not. And not be reminded that the pants I'm wearing haven't been washed for two weeks. I want to be able to be go and do and see. And call home like most other people.

I realize that so much of what my parents do are out of love, and not anything more malicious.

But I want to be 23. And live like I'm twenty three. No younger no older. A lover, a sinner.

How selfish is this?

Feeling myself

I realized today that I don't much feel myself lately. If at all, anymore.
I got dressed this morning, and nothing felt quite right.
I went driving, and didn't recognize the music I was hearing.
I looked in the mirror, and avoided eye contact with myself.

I keep thinking a change will help. A new hair color. New scenery. New new newnewnew.
I think, in part, it will. A lot of not feeling myself has to do with not being able to BE myself, living with my parents and all. Ugh...

Maybe it's just the weather.

12 steps

I think I found an answer to my nagging dissatisfaction.

The last few months have I've spent in purgatory: a state of some distraction, with no real direction, no real landing space and no real calm. I realize I'm living in reality, but it feels cast off, like someone else's leftover life, and not really mine. Not really one that I'm actively living, actively engaging in.

Step one: Move. I realize that to some of you, even some that know me, this might looklike running away from something. But I want to feel settled. Something that I don't and haven't since I moved to Idaho. I've been in constant transition. From one house to another, from one group of friends to another, one job to the next. I want some stability. Some piece of something that is my own for a preconceived amount of time. Even if it's rented, even if it's trashy. It's mine for a while.

Step two: Yoga. I started sometime in February as part of a wellness program with work. I pretty much love it. Right now I yoga (is there a verb for what you do when you do yoga?) once a week, and any spare time I have to practice at home. Which is not much. Spare time that is. I would love to find a more structured and affordable way to practice more often. A class, a group of friends to learn with etc.

Step three: The Artists Way
I know I need to write more, and I would love to go through this book as a way to inspire creativity and passion for my writing. I subscribe to the MSA Seed Sampler, and this month's sample had a call for letters. It made me rethink the things I spend my time on. In the call, it gave examples of things to write about. All of which I want to do, have started to do, but have failed for some reason or another. I know part of it has to do with time: how I spend it and how I value it. Or don't. I would love to plant a garden, throw a party to celebrate life, or volunteer
more.

Step four: Blog. So you and I can keep track of how I'm doing with it all.

Shortcomings and tea

I had coffee with a friend yesterday. And it made me think how much things change. How much you can change in such a short amount of time. Or maybe, how quickly time goes, and before we know it, we have become different people.

I looked at this friend and didn't recognize them. All the mannerisms were there. The same hair, and familiar hands. But your eyes were vacant; void of any emotion, even when the voice was telling me you were so excited. I wanted to badly to believe you. But I didn't. And I don''t. And that's ok. Because it's not up to me.

And the only thing I came away with is this thought: what am I doing to nourish my soul? How am I making sure my eyes match my voice, my hands stay familiar to those I love, and my heart close to those I care about? And I'm not sure I have an answer.

There is so much that I'm doing. And just doing. Nothing is exciting, nothing is hopeful.

Empty.

Lonely.

Stress Full.

I want my life to be

JOYFUL!

Loving.

CareFull, friendly, generous, open, gracious, sexy, learning, loving, beautiful, simple...

Calm.

And so I knit. But in an effort to better myself. Better myself? In an effort to create for myself a hobby, a way to relax, I learned something new. Rather than relax in something familiar and restful, I felt it necessary to challenge myself. The word stresssult comes to mind.

Angst

I'm still having a hard time deciding which grade level to teach. A friend in my class, who truthfully doesn't know me all that well personally but whose opinion I respect the utmost regardless, said to me this weekend that she thought I should teach at the elementary level. And it hit me in the heart. Like someone told me they loved me. Words that resound as truth, even if flippantly cast from the lips. But to be honest in return, I don't know if I have what it takes to teach there. And I'm scared to.

I'm scared that I would fall into the category "teacher" rather than woman. That I would be seen as a woman with thirty children, who has no need for more, or any of her own. That I would resort to wearing shapeless yet comfortable shift dresses and wooden bead necklaces in hopes to downplay my shapely figure so as not to bring on puberty too early for any youngster.

And I don't know that I can completely convey my fear of teaching every subject to a class of thirty-some developing minds that I'm not sure I can completely comprehend. Not that I would say I have a firm grasp on the subject that I am pursuing to teach either.

I'm almost two months in the sixteen that it will take me to finish this program to be certified "teacher," and I'm still having these doubts. I think an experience I had today might best show rather than tell the heart part of this dilema:

I do an outreach storytime at a nearby elementary school. I look forward to walking into the first grade classrooms. The smiles, the cheerful hello's and "I saw you"s. The hugs. Oh...the hugs. It's nearly always the best part of my day, even if the rest of it is hurried, and hard and no fun. However, today, it got better. One of the little girls from that class saw me while I was away from the library. Just a normal person. And she hugged me, sat next to me, told me about her day, thought hard when I asked her a question. And I loved seeing her. She didn't cut into my personal life. I didn't lack confidence, or feel awkward though her father was obviously curious as to my identity and relationship with his child. I was a teacher, friend. And it made me second-guess myself again. Who do I teach? The one's like this; young and lovable even when they are not, or the older, more moldable, hard to reach and unendingly gratifyingly when you do?

Tuesday Blues

I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed. It hit me like a slow crash of waves today. I'm in a lot over my head right now.

And in ways that alone wouldn't matter. And in ways that to most people don't matter. And really, even if I stop and think about it, it doesn't matter. But I guess emotion doesn't discriminate.

My brand new computer isn't working right. And a small thing like that, becomes bigger when I think about all that was sacrificed to buy me that computer, when I think about how much I'm counting on that computer working correctly, and when I realize I've scheduled my time around it. So when it doesn't, I feel trapped in time and space.

I'm "behind" at work. Not really, just not quick enough, sure enough or ambitious enough.

And I'm feeling ambivalent about a lot of things: choices I have made, need to still make, and have put off making. And those loom above me like a marionette puppet. Did I ever mention I'm afraid of puppets.

Ah, the week is almost half over. Is it sad that I'm looking forward to the weekend and it's only Tuesday?

Fighting fair

I posted this over at a friends blog. I thought I would add it here if anyone was interested.


"If the father steps out of the line for some reason (abandonment, abuse, neglect, or poor choices like not putting his children first) his spot in the line remains empty. Empty in the sense that it can only be filled by that one person. Some would say others can fill the role, but from my own experience the longing is for the person who is or should be in the front of the line."
I recently ended a, ahem, conversation with my own dad with the words being shoved in my face "what is it that I don't do for you?" And immediately all the answers came to mind...you chose 34 football players over me when I was seven every day and left me and the rest of your family sitting in a Sizzler, you buy me things instead of spending your time on me, you think that being around is the same as being there for me. I think the other super-emotionally-in-touch friend of ours said it really well last week when he said his parents don't fight at all, his mom runs at the first sign of conflict. Am I adapting the same fighting stance: am I more willing to overlook the issue, to say "well, I can't do anything about it now, so I might as well not try?" And how do I get past that part so that I can fight fair still, without letting it damage me so much that I am no longer a constantly damaged person, and also not a repressed, hardened heart? Is it that the question that everyone really faces? Not whether or not there is an eternal fountain of youth, but if they can make it to death in this way?

Those faces

A few months ago I subscribed to the Al Jezeera news feed. And it has slowly been changing my life. Almost imperceptibly, but still.

Some days I scroll through the headlines, wincing away the "Bomb blasts" and "kills nine." Other days, like today, I click on the first one and read the whole story, then the next and the next. It's so painful. How do we even exist? Our world, humans, countries, men and women. Why is our country not like this? Is, and I've just not seen it, or have I but in different ways?

I wonder what it would be like to work with an aid organization. To see those faces. THOSE faces. like it wasn't mine, won't be mine. But it will be, one day. I think . I'm no different, am I?

Christmas time is gone again

SO Christmas is over. And I feel cheap and dirty. Not to mention totally panic stricken. All causes aside, I think I am taaking a break from Christmas. Next year, I don't want to exchange gifts, but rather give them if I feel so moved, and receive them if someone is floating that river with me.

For many reasons, but perhaps this one being the most influential: My family is quite large, and really only growing as people mature and marry and add to our family tree. So We draw one name, for which we buy a one gift for that so named person, and then kids and our immediate family if we desire. The person I drew, my uncle, is not necessarily hard to buy for. A real guys-guy into hunting and fishing and animal-killing of all kinds, appreciate anything remotely related to that. I however, am on my way to hardcare veganism (*Note that I am still a carnivore, though) and really have a hard time just giving into that. Now...these are the things I ask myself: Would he like it? yes. Does he need it? No. If I don't buy it for him, would he go buy it for himself (and does he ablely have the means to do so)? yes. So why would I want to buy something like that? Isn't the point of gift giving, not to give into the every wish and whim of someone, but to surprise and delight them with something they thought they never needed or wanted? Maybe that is not your idea of christmas shopping, but I know that I hate receiving purly practical gifts, nearly as much as I hate receiving gifts I could have bought for myself. They are not much of a gift, if they fall into either category, in my mind.

I had an idea to make a donation in his name, something in line with my undle's beliefs and something I know he would appreciate though probably not to himself, and give him a gift representative of that donation for his own use. When I presented this idea to my parents for their input, I was whole-heartedly denied. "That's not really thinking of him." said one. "Would you want someone to do that for your christmas gift?" said the other. YES! A resounding yes! So with this in the back of my mind, I went about thinking of what I could get/give my uncle. I was quite shocked that before I could even get something for him, my parents bought him something, stuck my name on it and mailed it to him for me. YEAH!

Fast forward a few weeks...and my mom opens a small box with a plastic cow and goat inside. My dad reads the card that says they have contributed to a family gift, giving a family in Africa a cow, goat, some sheep, geese, ducks, seeds, school supplies and bibles. They loved it. They fawned over it. They said "What a great idea!" Literally. Those words came out of my fathers mouth. I say this not to make them look bad, I wouldn't want that necessarily. But to bring light to the fact that we all are incrediblly hypocritical. So much so that if it's come from one person it's a horrible idea, and if the same idea comes from someone else, it's a great one. Maybe it's in the presentation. Maybe it's in the givers intention. Maybe they actually hated it still, and are only appearing hypocritical to save face to the family that they love, and only I know the truth.

I do know, that I should have given like I wanted to. I should stop asking for permission. And start asking for forgiveness. They say it's always easier that way. But Forgiveness is so much harder to ask for. Permission is harder to get.