Wind Moments or What It Was

I’m in one of my moods. One of my deep moods.

When will I be content? I was not raised to value contentedness. Content was as unatural a concept as submit. Ramirez woman, Mexican woman, Catholic women do not submit. We knew the word and we loathed it. Content, though, was hardly even on the radar screen.  What does that mean? If you’re not reaching for the stars, you’ve given up and will never be anything. Loser. Lame-o. Typical. Content? I don’t get it.

It always strikes me when we have a high school small group meeting that teaches me so much that I’m floored for a few days following. I love leading a small group because of how much I get out of it. There. I said it. The Bible mostly, but also the discussion, the satisfaction of reaching young girls in a meaningful way. We’re going through Colossians. And The Message – no we don’t teach out of the message but I like to throw out different translations for the sake of exploration – lists in chapter 3: v 13 (ish) “Be even tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense.”

Content with second place. What is the best time of life? Someone tell me so I can be ready to embrace it. In junior high, I knew the answer. In junior high, junior high was the best time of life. And I loved it. LOVED it. So much so that I sobbed the last day of school before going into high school because I knew everything was going to change. That the best part of life was going to change. OK, everyone sobbed. In high school, I figured out pretty quickly that high school was the best part of life. And I was right. The friends, the activities, the dances and dating. High school was the best part… mostly.

I don’t think I really got it in college. There were times, walking through campus to my favorite classes with my favorite professors. Or hanging out in the dorms, eating in the dining hall. Moments. In my memory, theres always a wind blowing through my hair. haha. That was the feeling I wanted out of college, wind blowing through my hair, and those wind moments are the ones I remember. But only moments. I missed a lot of it because I came face to face with the concept of being the only one like me. I didn’t identify with anyone, I thought, and the heartbreak of high school friendships left me wary of really trying. I remember the last week of college though. I got it then. Decorating mortar board hats. Cramming mattresses into one stinking small room so we could all sleep together. Midnight Bibleopoly. I didn’t get it until it was too late.

Content with second place. I find time and again that I’m trying to convince myself that this IS the best time of my life. That I’d better slow down or I’ll miss it. Like I missed college. I miss it when I get consumed with accomplishment. With moving ahead. With positions and titles, salaries and perks, cars and restaurants, furniture and clothes, being on trend or ahead of trend, when can I buy a house, when can we have a baby, when can I stop working. I become obsessed with first place. But maybe first place isn’t what I think it is. Maybe first place sucks. Really. Because you don’t even realize it once you’re there. Maybe being content with second place is when you feel the wind. Junior high was when and it wasn’t high school. High school was when and it wasn’t college. College was when but it wasn’t the beginning of the rest of my life. And it didn’t matter what it wasn’t. What mattered was what it was.

Does that even make sense?

Its Beginning

In a series of events entirely out of the ordinary, I’ve found myself going on trips and being (dare I say it) sociable! Being of a more timid nature, I find the couch potato mode of life the most desirable. Jeff’s ridiculously busy world, though, pulls me off the couch. For some reason he wants to share his world with me. And I can’t help but be absolutely thrilled by that. He comes home at the end of the day (or I do) and whatever events or topics were most intriguing that day he shares and shares and shares and seeks my opinion and input and feedback. And as a result I find that my desire to be a part of his world keeps growing. And so I find myself becoming a “Pastor’s Wife.” And I’m really excited about it!

WHEEEEEE!

We’re going on a trip! And we’re taking the train!!!! I haven’t been on a train since… the 3rd grade. Other than a metro. I’m totally excited!

National Youth Workers Convention. Don’t miss it.  It’s gonna be flippin’ sweet. I’ll letcha know.

I’m a wretch. A rambling wretch.

I’ve been itching to blog for the last couple of months but every time I sit down to the computer I can’t think of anything to say. I blame my college girlfriends. During the summer, they began including me in their daily emails and thats sort of been my outlet. Or, some might say, its been draining me of all the good stuff so that when I come home from work I have the sense that I’ve already expressed myself in writing and so ought rather to stare mindlessly into the boob tube. Or, God forbid, to make myself useful and clean something. But at long last, I found myself home sick these last two days with minimal outlet so here I am again indulging cyberspace with my ramblings.

Monday night Jeff and I went grocery shopping, which we always do together. I had begun feeling crummy that day with the impending head cold that was so vicious its kept me home, unpaid, for the aforementioned time period. But at the time, I thought it was just allergies, so off to WinCo we went. When we got back home I was grumpy and irritable. We began putting the groceries away which of course lead to cleaning out the refrigerator which lead to more grump and irritation. All the while, my endearing husband was gently and lovingly assisting me while trying to keep his mouth shut because everything he said only seemed to annoy me. After pulling out the fourth bag of freezer burned nastiness labeled “ice” I came across a ziplocked monstrocity labeled, “Jeff & Eve’s wedding cake.” First thought: EEWWWW! I pulled it out and turned for the trash can when Jeff asked, “whats that?” I don’t know why I stopped, but I did, and looking at him I answered. I then laid it on the table and sheepishly stared at it.

We never intended to save the cake. You know that tradition, you save the top most layer of the wedding cake, freeze it, and on your one year anniversary you’re supposed to eat it. Disgusting! Really, who came up with that? We both thought it was more gross than sentimental. However, we found that many people, including the cake server at the reception, were mortified at the thought that the tradition might not be carried out. So the server, unbeknownst to us at the time, saved the little cake and sent it home with my mother-in-law who wrapped it like mad and shoved it in the back of the freezer “just in case we changed our minds.” Of course she forgot about it and sent it home with us around the 17 month mark.

“I wonder what it looks like” I said and I pulled it out of the bag. Side by side we began pulling away layer after layer of foil. After about 3 minutes, we finally hit gold and there it was. Just like it had been on our wedding day. Only frozen. Simple, pretty, still white, still had a dot pattern on the sides. Surprised that it didn’t look more … fuzzy … I said, “I wonder what it looks like on the inside.” Cutting a wedge out of the side, we found it was still the same white cake we remembered. Then I smiled. I picked up a piece of the cake and raised it to Jeff’s face. He grinned back asking if I wanted him to eat it. “I want to eat it,” I said, “but I want you to go first.” Naturally. Relieved that the Ice Queen was melting, he pulled some of the fondant off and tasted it. He liked it and continued. I took a bite too. It was cold and sweet and very dry. We started talking about the cake. How much it had cost. How bad we felt when so little of it was eaten. How the fondant still tasted so good and could probably survive a nuclear explosion along with the cockroaches. We chuckled.

And then he said, “its 2 years and 6 days old.” He stepped close to me, placing one arm around me and holding the other hand away because his fingers were still covered in frosting. “Happy 2 year and 6 day anniversary, my love.” And he kissed me on the forehead.

We don’t travel much. We don’t do many exciting things or own a lot of fun stuff. He’s always working on homework and I’m always cleaning up after the two of us. The time we spend “out” is at church most of the time which is really just work for him. But this is why I got married. For the everyday. And I find again and again that the everyday can be so amazing. No matter how grumpy the Ice Queen may get.

Highlights

Remember that magazine? Highlights? In every doctor’s office in America. Oh the joy of the doctor’s office. Making learning fun since 1946.

#1: Michael Buble

Got free tickets from work to see Michael Buble live and in concert at the Save Mart Center on Tuesday. Crystal Dower and I got all gussied up for the event. The opening act we thought was lame until we realized they didn’t have a band and were making all of the “instrumental music” without instruments. AMAZING! Check out Naturally 7 on youtube if thats what blows your skirt up. Michael was crass, but enjoyable none the less. And from where we sat in the not-quite-the-nose-bleed-section only appeared to be about an inch tall… very strange for such an arrogant little man. I’m glad I didn’t pay $160 for tickets, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself, the company and the music.

#2: Getting pulled over

On our way home from the concert, Crystal and I got pulled over. Apparently Crystal has a headlight out. After explaining to the cop that we were on our way home from the concert and that Michael was “a bit more crass than we expected” Crystal handed her license to him only to find that it was expired. At which point he ran my license and I had to drive Crystal home. Relatively uneventful it may seem, except that we were pulled over in front of Fashion Fair Mall where Crystal works and the security guard came to point fingers and laugh all the while humiliating Crystal. HILARIOUS! If you would like a copy of the surveillance footage, email me and I will get an additional copy from Jose the security guard. Free bag of popcorn with video.

#3: Jeff came home from his trip. Its fantastic to have him home and not away. And … well thats pretty much it for that one.
Lowlights – the lesser known childhood commentary

#1: Someone in advertising got fired at work. Felt really bad for her. Didn’t see it coming. And thats really all I should say about that. I hope she finds work soon and that its something that she’s good at and that she loves to do. Here’s hoping there aren’t any more firings in the works and at the very least, that I’m not one of the unsuspecting schmoes.

#2: I weighed myself for the first time in 18 months and … it wasn’t pretty.
I’ve whined about it ever since and dragged Jeff out of bed this morning to go running with me. Maybe dragged is too strong a word. I mumbled “do you want to go running” and he popped right out of bed, got dressed and waited about 15 minutes for me to follow suit. And then we headed east and “ran” to the first cross street where I thought I was going to die. We then proceeded to walk swiftly for the remaining 7/8 mile.

Thats all for me. Hope you all have a magical mothers day.
*Highlights/Lowlights are in order of occurrence and do not reflect the preference of the author. The fact that my husband coming home is ranked #3 means nothing.

A Finger Full of Frosting

Jeff’s out of town.

Whenever Jeff goes away, I go for walks. At least on the first night that he’s gone. Mostly because I like to have something to tell him when he calls and says “So what’ve you been up to?” He never expects exercise to be an element of my alone time. And he gets that sound in his voice like he’s impressed with me. I like that sound. Its the cherry on top of the icecream sundae. Not only did he think of me, not only did he call, but he was surprised by me, impressed with me. That little sound helps me get through another morning of waking up to the alarm clock without a husband there to reset it for half an hour later, or to gently coax me into wiping the sleep away from my eyes when all of the half-hour-laters have run out.

So anyway, I went for a walk. And, as usual, I fell in love with my neighborhood. I am always taken aback when I come face to face with the charm of this place. Houses from every decade since the 1920’s. All intermingling along tree lined streets. In the shade of the criss crossing branches you find putting green lawns and colorful gardens. Cobblestone pillars and pathways. Rounded doors, red doors, shutters with shapes carved from the center. And oh the eaves. Eaves straight from storybook cottages where Grandmother’s bake goodies and children are nestled snug in their beds.

My favorite houses are the ones with lights on. Lit up inside. Lights in the living room, lights in the kitchen. And people! Men & women sitting on sofas and around tables, smiling and laughing. Houses filled with chatter and with light. Or a single sillhouette reading under the light of a lamp. I feel like an intruder peering into the windows of beautiful houses. Theres something intimate about them. Some sweetness not intended to be shared with me. Its romantic. A smattering of innocent romance. Not Hollywood romance, not something cheesy or cliche. Just an air of goodness. I feel like I’ve missed something wonderful if I just walk by without a glance. Who can keep from slipping a finger in the frosting of a birthday cake when nobody seems to be looking?

Mmmm… frosting…

commercial lame-ness

I’m getting real tired of all the political commercials….especially the ones about props 94, 95, 96, 97….the indian gaming ones. I got my primary election guide in the mail and I’ve read in it a bit and I still don’t know what/who I’m gonna vote for! All I know is that having Arnold speak on commercials to try and gain favor with any audience is probably not a great idea…where is Carrifoenyuh anyway? If anyone has any insight into all the political garbage please do tell!

I’m soon heading off to dinner at Red Robin. mmmmmmmm! Gonna get me a A-1 Peppercorn Burger. If you’ve never had it, or been to Red Robin for that matter, you really haven’t lived yet! If I was to add up all the $$ I’ve spent at Red Robin since starting college in ‘02 I could probably resurrect the economy of some small poverty-stricken African nation……dang….not good! Anyway, that was comepletely worthless information for you….I’m out!

J

there’s a new villain in town

Satan, Lucifer, the Devil, the Father of Lies, the Evil One, Bally Total Fitness…they’re all different ways of saying the same thing. At first I thought I might have been being a bit dramatic, but then I was reading the Word and I found confirmation! 1 Jeffrolonians 5:8 says, “Stay Alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the Bally Total Fitness. It prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour!” (NJT) I leave the decoding of the translation abbreviation to your imagination, it shouldn’t be to much of a stretch for you. Anyway, all this to say that I’ve been to the gym twice now and its real good and real bad all at the same time…nuff said!

Wow, what a week. I’ve been to Lemoore 4 times in the last 2 weeks and 3 of those times were just last week. The Lord is definitely doing something in Lemoore, Eve and I just need to figure out if this is the best place for us to join Him in his work…the place He wants us to be. So, if you’re a praying person we’d definitely appreciate your prayer along those lines! Be sure to let us know if he says something to ya about it.

On a more serious note, I was doing some message prep in Luke 15 this afternoon and read this: “Tax collectors and other notorious sinners often came to listen to Jesus teach.” I know that at first glance that doesn’t seem like much, but something about it really hit me. Those guys never went to listen to the Pharisees and Scribes teach because they only taught law and condemnation. Jesus taught love…and there is where I think I find the difference. There was something so intriguingly different about Jesus and his message that it attracted the “worst” of sinners, and these sinners didn’t debate him and point out his hypocrisy, they listened to him. Wow. When was the last time a notorious “sinner” often came to listen to you talk about Jesus without debating you and presupposing your hypocrisy….I know it doesn’t happen very often to me. Maybe its because I often fail to truly live an intriguingly different life with an intriguingly different message backing it up. What separates us as Jesus-followers from “the crowd?” Just a thought to chew on!

that’s all for now……

-J-

Last Tuesday Night

Jello Legs

Finally made it to the gym. Couldn’t pay for an entire month without actually seeing the inside or sitting on one of those bicycle machines, now could I? One small step for Eve, one big step for Eve’s behind. No, I’m not over proportioned or flabby really. But those of you who know me (I’m assuming all of you or you wouldn’t be reading this oh so fascinating blog) know that a walk around the block is my idea of a marathon. The most regular exercise I’ve gotten in a long time is walking up the stairs at work to the second floor and if it didn’t have a landing half way up there, I probably would concede to the elevator. So yes, it is a big step for Eve.

And my trainer, you ask. Yes. I said trainer. He’s not only an ex-marine. He used to train marines. Gloat gloat, gloat gloat. I should’ve known what I was in for when he left us on the bikes for 10 minutes as a “warm up.” Yes. I said 10 minutes as though that were a long time. And I meant it. We pushed up, curled up, jumped up, lifted up and bent our bodies into strange positions. It hurt. Word to the wise. He’ll keep asking “how are you feeling” until long after you feel like dieing. You’ve got to come up with a good excuse, like dizziness or severely labored breathing before you get a break. Luckily, or unluckily to be more precise, I experienced both symptoms and thus ended the journey to hell before actually pulling into the station.

Have your legs ever felt like jello? Real jello? In all reality, it was a decent experience. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not about to pay to go through that on a weekly basis. But I feel a bit more confident walking into the gym. You know, like I almost have a right to be there. I plan to become familiar with some bicycles or walking machines and take a pilates class or two for my abs. In fact, I would even venture to say that I want to go back. I want to get healthy. Tomorrow, my stiff, sore glutes may try to convince me otherwise. So keep asking me about it or the glutes may win.

Eve