Circle of Friends

I've been thinking of this for some time now, thinking of writing about the friends in my life.  If I were to die tomorrow, would people know how much they truly meant to me?  So many of my dearest friends are scattered throughout the states making it difficult to keep in touch with them.  Facebook is an avenue to use when none other is available, but who really has time to follow the lives of all their friends on Facebook?  Besides, it's so impersonal.  In my ideal world, I'd have time to send cards and letters to those I miss and love so dearly, but who am I kidding?  I barely have time to send my monthly check to the utility companies who lack online payment capabilities...

So today I write my first "Circle of Friends" blog.  In no order of significance (as who can possibly rank their friends in order of importance), I start with my oldest and dearest friend, Valerie.  Now, a crazy woman named Martha may object as I met the two of them at the same time, but as Valerie has taken my place in Utah in putting up with my two older sisters, she certainly (and understandably) trumps Martha...

I don't remember when I first gave Valerie the nickname "Old Faithful" but she would be able to tell you.  Valerie has the memory of an elephant and it is guaranteed that the memories you have purposely forgotten, she will bring up in a random conversations.  The only good thing about Valerie being able to recall all of the details of our friendship is that I have a photo of her wearing tight black leather pants and sporting them like the hootchie-mamas we once were!

So, yes, my Old Faithful friend is the kind of friend that will always be there for you.  When no one else is around, Valerie will be there for you.  I remember having to move out of my apartment after a dirt-biking accident put me in a wheelchair, unable to work.  I was a young 20 years old and had no health insurance because at that age, you think you are invincible.  So, here is me in my wheelchair having to pack up and move ... somewhere.  I don't even remember where I moved to (I was on a lot of pain meds at the time), but I do remember Valerie being the only friend in my circle of friends that helped me pack up my apartment.

Years later after I had relocated with the company we (including Martha) worked for, Valerie and my sister, Deb, began hanging out.  Now, I don't remember when I brought the two of them together.  It could have been during all the going away events we had before I moved away or maybe on one of my holiday trips home when we ladies would hootchie it up at the clubs, but somewhere along the way, Val and Deb became good friends.

I have to stop to explain one thing about Valerie:  she has a very unique, dry and sarcastic sense of humor.  She CRACKS ME UP, but if you don't know her, she might offend you.  (I'm laughing as I write this!)  I vaguely recall a get together with my oldest sister and some of her friends... I learned about this via telephone since I was living in Virginia at the time, but something about "Valerie offended someone" causing a big blow-up of some sort.  Meanwhile, I'm on the phone laughing about it because I LOVE Valerie and find her to be one of the funniest people I've ever met, but I so know how her humor isn't for the light-hearted or easily offended.  It took a few more years for me to build a friendship between Valerie and my oldest sister (had to get the older sister over that blow-up, whatever it was), but Valerie is family now.  She is one of my sisters.  Family get-togethers in Utah aren't complete if Valerie isn't there.

Over the years, we don't talk as often.  Our conversations are always several hours long so it makes it hard when I'm two hours ahead and our schedules are busy and uncoordinated, but I hope in my heart that Valerie knows how much she means to me.  I know after months of not talking, I can call her (even in tears) and will laugh for the next two hours.  I'll get off the phone feeling loved and valued for who I am and know there is someone important in my life.  I know if my sister needs someone to be there, Valerie will be there for her because she really has become a part of our family (dysfunctional though it is).  I know that for all my flaws and imperfections, and my lack of keeping in touch, Valerie is here for me, a true friend.  Although we always joke about her nickname, my life is better because of Old Faithful.

So, I hope you've enjoyed getting to know about my oldest friend, Val, and I hope you've enjoyed reading my first installment of Circle of Friends!

Purposely Confused

I just got home from an adoption meeting at my church.  A bittersweet evening for me, I struggled with going yet couldn't have stayed away from it.  I don't know what God wants from me as I look at my life and the irony of it all.  I feel like the biggest hypocrite.  I write a health blog while being sick and unhealthy and I'm a twice certified foster parent who has never fostered a child.  I just don't know what He wants.  Did I not pray enough?  Did I not pray correctly?  Am I just not good enough?  I've spent two years training and reading and studying and networking and I am once again feeling so disconnected from my dream.  I look at all that God is doing in the lives of those around me and I just feel lost in the shuffle.  Once again, the paper-pushing workaholic machine with no meaning and no purpose.  The "go-to girl" with no place of her own to go to. 
I just don't know what He wants.

Deleted Comments

Ooops!  I just accidentally deleted all the comments ever made on  my blog.  

:0(

Sorry everyone!  I was trying to figure out how I could get notified when someone leaves a comment... still haven't figured that out yet...

The Dutiful Daughter

My devotion today was in 2 Corinthians 2 where Paul is speaking to those in Corinth.  He spoke of him who has caused you sorrow (some versions read "grief" or "pain") and that you should forgive him and comfort him. 

Are you kidding me?!  Like, how does God do that??  I get the text from my sis that my dad relapsed last night and may have surgery today and then I read this devotion, about forgiving and comforting the one who has caused you grief...  unbelievable!  And it isn't even the forgiving part because I dealt with that a long time ago.  It's the comfort him part.  Does he really deserve any comfort from me?

I groaned out load to God and huffed "fine" with my lips in a childish pout.  So on my way to work, I called my dad like I always do when he is in the hospital, the good little daughter.

The Horrible Daughter

I was facilitating at a seminar today.  When it was over, I received a text message from my father.  My father is the last man on earth who I would ever think I'd receive a text message from, but there it was.  I also had a voicemail from him.  He's in the hospital ... again.  He goes in practically yearly with bowel problems I'd rather not discuss.  Backtracking, he had a stroke about 23 years ago and the doctors gave him five years to live.  He's still kicking and still a horrible father.  To type that, I feel bad.  See, I forgave my father some time ago, but because it is not healthy for me to have him in my life, I don't speak to him.  I do call him every time he lands in the hospital because I just feel bad for the bastard.  He has never known love.  Not in his own childhood, and not now.  I picture him lying there in the hospital, all alone and confused, with a possibility of dying and I end up calling him (he lives in Utah).

I didn't call him today, though.  I cringed when I read that text.  If I reply to him via text, he will text me for the rest of my life (or his).  I'll never get away from him contacting me.  He is like that, and with my 13 year old little brother currently in the custody of my older sister, I can only imagine the text messages my father will send me every time he is cursing her out on the phone and she hangs up on him.

He will never learn and will never change.  Vicious, manipulative, emotionally and verbally abusive...  Even his voicemail was filled with him trying to make me feel bad so I would call him.  He told me that I am the only one that calls him, that I am the only one he can talk to because my older sister and younger brother will only text him.  Well, they did call once and my sister did stop by the hospital once, but I'm the only one he can talk to.  What in the world he's talking about is beyond me because I NEVER call him.  Not on his birthday, not on holidays, and when he calls me on my birthday, I don't answer the phone.  He is just the same man trying to make me feel bad, trying to manipulate me into calling him. 

I may have called him if he didn't leave such a ridiculous voicemail, but I just can't have that in my life anymore.  I refuse to let anyone treat me the way he has always treated my sisters, my mother, and my little brother.  There is no hatred in me.  The anger and bitterness is gone and for that I can only thank God (and the Beth Moore bible study "Breaking Free").  It was clearly the grace of God that freed me from the bondage I was in because of my father.  I saw him for the broken man he is and my heart changed, but today I am ambivalent.  I'm sooo very tired of having to play the good daughter and call him every stinking time he lands in the hospital just in case he dies and I end up regretting my decision not to call him.

I know these are horrible things to verbalize, especially in a public blog, but why blog or even write if we can't learn and grow from one another?  I've been through a lot in my life, but I've also come a long way to get here and I'm not afraid to share who I am, even if it's the ugly parts in me.  We all have ugly stuff and I don't have the energy or desire anymore to wear a happy mask and pretend I'm not struggling.  I did that for years and I was miserable (I feel pretty darn good about my life right now, I might add).  I want to be transparent enough to one day help someone else who goes through what I've gone through.  Everyday after breakthrough healings isn't going to be peachy and today is one of those days as I wonder if I should call my father and if that makes me a horrible daughter.

Politics or Jesus?

Here's me: when I think of donkeys and elephants, I think of my recent safari in Africa.  I don't think about politics.  I used to follow the political scene much more closely (I had a mad crush on Anderson Cooper, haha!), but it just wasn't me.  All the fighting and anger and hatred; all the slandering of people because of the party they subscribe to... I just don't have that in me.

So imagine my surprise when I attended this great seminar about the Affordable Care Act and posted about it on Facebook.  Lord have mercy!!  People I love were saying downright mean things about other people I love, and condescendingly emailing me on the side ("poor, sweet, stupid Kathy, I know how you just want to take care of the world, but sweety, you really better pray about this, do some research, speak to your pastor about the HORROR of your political ignorance... Love you! xoxo").

Seriously.

Yes, I did pray this morning, but NOT about elephants and donkeys.  However, I came across Luke 6:27 where Jesus tells the people to love your enemy.  Do good to those who hate you.  Pray for them.  Bless those who curse you.  Folks, Jesus loves everyone, Republicans and Democrats included.  Quite frankly, my church has done more to improve the North Side (inner city, urban) community than any political or governmental entity.  So thanks for all the political hugs and kisses, but I think I'm going to follow my heart.  I'm going to continue in my "ignorance" and love everyone and follow Jesus and His laws. 

Keep On Writing!

I have thought about this blog more times than I can count.  To actually write a blog (let alone go public with it) has been a great feat for me because although I love to write, I haven't really written in years.  When I left Virginia, a place I grew to love, a place I grew period, I became so disconnected with myself and life that words that once flowed ceased.  The things I did write were so forced, so redundant.  The stuff I was writing was just plain awful until I quit writing altogether.  I spent my time instead working, working, relocating, working, relocating again, working... There was nothing left in my heart to write about.

During those years, I often longed to write again.  I can't explain the pure joy of putting words on paper, especially when they just fly from my pen.  When I am in the flow of words, there's no place else I'd rather be.  Even today, I can read stuff I wrote ten years ago and get a happy feeling.  I believe it has something to do with releasing all the thoughts, feelings and emotions that verbally I cannot express.  Writing has transformed my life in so many ways.  It stirs me cognitively (is that a word?) and I can think clearer in all areas of my life.  It gives me energy to accomplish great things and mundane things.  I feel connected with not only who I am, but with the Holy Spirit who guides my pen.  My life is just more satisfying to me when I am writing.
So why in heavens have I not written on this blog in so long?!  Like I said, I think about it every day and wish I were writing something, anything.  In fairness, I am writing a nutrition and health blog for my church, but I hope in the future daily grind of my life, I remember what I just wrote above and choose to keep up with this more personal blog.  Stay tuned!!

Moonless, Starless Night: A Poem

I can't sleep.
It's nothing new,
but my early morning physical therapy looms,
stressing me out. 
I keep thinking of someone,
someone I haven't been able to let go of. 
He's someone who loved me.
Someone who was there for me,
making me laugh
when my world was crumbling down. 
And when I feel like I have no one,
I think of a time I had him. 
But if I'm real, I never had him. 
Like a forbidden love in a cheesy romance novel,
we could never be,
so we laughed
and we loved
until we couldn't anymore. 
And when I can't sleep on nights like these,
when neither the moon nor the stars can comfort me,
I think of him
and weep
and cry myself to sleep.

Remembrance:Remembering 9/11 and Those Still Mourning

Ten years ago today, I was awakened by my father calling. That was before auto voicemail was the norm and I could hear his panicked voice from the living room. I got up to listen again to his crazy message, so confused. What is he talking about? I turned on the TV and that's when I saw the same tragedy the rest of the world was seeing. It only took a minute for the shock to be replaced by fear. My best friend lived in New York City and I couldn't get through. Phone lines were a disaster and all I knew about her job was that she was working near the towers.  I was panicked over her safety. Where was my sister?

Praise God when her sister called me to say she was okay. They were able to get through to one another before the phone lines went crazy.

Such panic the world was in and I remember my sister calling me from work because of the plane that crashed near Pittsburgh. Could I get hold of Aunt Rosie to make sure she and the family were okay? No one felt safe and I was sick to my stomach watching the TV but could not drag myself away.

I worked at a restaurant and the owner wouldn't close so I had to go in. I was so angry, as were the other employees, because he only wanted us there so he wouldn't have to cancel his monthly wine luncheon. I remember the one table we had in two hours: a woman upset that her flight was cancelled because she had planned on vacationing somewhere in Europe. I couldn't believe it. Such entitlement when America had just been attacked by terrorists. I don't remember what I or the rest of the staff said to our boss, but he finally relented to letting us leave once his wine luncheon party was served their first course. I remember my disgust at hearing the laughter coming from the party as we left the restaurant. How could anyone laugh when our country had been attacked a few short hours ago? When thousands were dead? When the image of people jumping out of windows was so vivid in my mind?

For the days and weeks following, I couldn't tear my eyes from the TV. My obsession for ESPN was replaced by this tragedy and as I think back to that day, I want to call my dad and tell him I've forgiven him.

It can't be easy for those personally affected by 9/11 to find forgiveness in their hearts. It's taken me two decades to forgive my father. 

However, my prayers today are for those of you still mourning your losses from 9/11, for those of you still anxious from the terror experienced.  I pray not only for the victims but for the rescue workers and others involved. May the Lord bless and comfort you all.

I end with lines from one of my favorite Scriptures:

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on us, because Jesus Christ has been sent to preach good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom from the captives, and to comfort all who mourn. He will provide for those who grieve, bestowing on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. 

(Found in Isaiah 61)

God Bless America

March 2010

I'm behind in posting so here is a poem I wrote on March 5th as a new Christian:

            Untitled

   The sun on my face
a warm breeze caressing me
   the rainbow on my drive
that set my teardrops free
   for I knew you were there
loving and romancing me
   but it has been years
since I've opened my heart to anything
   Oh Jesus, my God,
you've not given up on me
   I can still feel your kisses
softly whispering to me.
   You are opening up my heart
for all that I can be
   and I know that I am loved
for your Son, Christ, died for me.