An ongoing diary of my quest to find my biological relatives, at age 35, and as a single mom.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Monday, October 6, 2014
Unraveling my Yellow Tape: Adoptive parents are clear indicators of human gra...
Unraveling my Yellow Tape: Adoptive parents are clear indicators of human gra...: I'm compelled to disclose some more of this story since I have kinda just left things hanging for the past year or so and let me tell y...
Adoptive parents are clear indicators of human grace
I'm compelled to disclose some more of this story since I have kinda just left things hanging for the past year or so and let me tell you why. I went to my high school reunion last night- 20th to be exact, and I saw an old, and I mean old friend, Shannon. HAHA on old. We are clearly the same rotten age, and holding on tightly to our thirties as if dangling from a cliff overlooking the ocean on a James Bond flick from 1978. Actually, if I remember correctly, she is one year older than me, so she is clearly hanging on much tighter than me.
Anyway, she told me she read my entire blog, and I was shocked. I have no idea who reads this, unless you tell me, like she did. Moreover, I don't write this for the readership, although it's always nice to be complimented. It makes it seem more worthwhile, escaping the obvious reality that writing allows me to process all of this unfolding of truth (and lies).
I feel honored that anyone reads this, and my hopes are to write a book entailing the quest. I want somehow to incorporate the Godly perspective in all of this. Not sure how that will happen, but faithful that God will lead the way, if I just begin the typing.
A lot of the time, I don't really know where it all comes from when I write. I don't speak eloquently. I'm not over the top intelligent, probably just average Jill based on my life choices. That's to be held for the second book. How NOT to Live Your Life by Buga Fairley. So I'll maintain that God uses me for this. I'm sure that someone is getting something out of it.
Back to the quest. I am not even sure where I left off, so I'll just tell you what's happened recently. Approximately six weeks ago I felt brave one day. But let me preface this with it started with me lying on the green couch wailing out to God that I didn't understand why this woman wouldn't talk to me. I laid there alone, sun beaming in directly at me through the naked window, cradling the phone and scolding it's power at the same time.
I had effectively, on a whim, decided that I would call my birth uncle (by marriage), who is a complete stranger to me.
The uncle has a name. It's Wayne. He is married to my birth mother's older sister, who is 8 years older. He was easily located because he owns a business and let's face it, Google makes everything easier. What did we ever do without it? Bing doesn't hold a candle, but that's beside the point.
It apparently was his cell phone, because the voice mail didn't mention the company name. I left a message.
Hello Wayne. My name is Brooke Fairley and I'm calling on a personal note. Please call me back when you have some time. I almost hung up without giving him my number. Choke it up to nervous jitters.
I hung up and decided that he would probably not call me back.
I laid on the green couch and cried. What had I just done? All the rules of adoptee to birth mother engagement say that this is the absolute wrong approach. They tell us that this sort of thing only pisses people off. Because of the shame brought onto the mothers and the high degree of privacy they maintain to achieve throughout the years, this abrupt calling of near relatives before ever speaking to the birth mother is a big no-no. The crippling fear of being found out has these mothers in knots. They go on for their whole lives, some of them, thinking that one day they will be found. Paralyzed by the very thought.
I did it anyway.
You see, these women, went to undeniable lengths to hide their pregnancies. They couldn't face the harsh public eye. If subjected to it, they would be shunned and could lose everything.
That was the mentality.
The devil is a liar. He is out to steal, kill, and destroy. He stole the baby from the mothers. He killed any chance at happiness after having a baby for these mothers. And that asshole destroyed any chance of a relationship. I believe that the cruelty of the times was a direct result of his terrible doings. He instilled the fear, produced the anxiety, and discouraged mothers from keeping their babies by fueling the fires in the public eye.
God's answer was adoption. He gave the parents who could not have children the opportunity to be parents. Who knows if maybe God had previously decided to not allow those parents to have children. And through his loving grace gave them a second chance, answered their prayers, gave them children to love. It's my opinion that parents who adopt are the most loving of all. They take in a child that didn't come from their own womb, and love that child as if she were their own blood. They make an agreement with God (and with an agency likely) to take care of the child for the rest of their lives. That means unconditional love.
The Bible tells us that we are all adopted by God. Ephesians 1:5 says, God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.
I believe that adoption is the ultimate gift and lesson at the same time. Parents make a commitment to God and adoptees know what it feels like to be loved by people who weren't forced by law to love them. To be taken care of by these selfless people is the greatest gift. It is the ultimate gift of grace and it's human grace, which is something we don't see enough of.
So I waited on the couch, crying out to God in another moment of misunderstanding. I was letting the better part of me sink, and the questioning part of me rise and demand answers. So in my temporary insanity, I thought it would be OK to make that call that I knew in my heart was the wrong thing to do. And I had to live with myself.
You see, love doesn't make demands. And I was demanding that this woman confront me from all angles. I had now sunken to new lows by attempting to allow someone who may or may not have known about my birth, in on our little secret.
That was dangerous. But what did I have to lose? I guess, my integrity. The devil doesn't want us to have it. And I let him win that battle. Regretably so.
As the light was beaming on my face and I was holding the phone still against my chest, it rang. It was Wayne. The call went like this.
Hello, this is Wayne. I am returning your call.
Yes. Hello Wayne. Thank you for calling me back. Um... (long pause). This is a little awkward for me, and it probably will be for you. Are you available to talk for a little bit?
Yes. Sure. (sounding curious though puzzled)
Your sister in law, Colette, is my birth mother. In 1976 she had a baby, and gave her up for adoption. That's me. I'm the baby.
to be continued....
Anyway, she told me she read my entire blog, and I was shocked. I have no idea who reads this, unless you tell me, like she did. Moreover, I don't write this for the readership, although it's always nice to be complimented. It makes it seem more worthwhile, escaping the obvious reality that writing allows me to process all of this unfolding of truth (and lies).
I feel honored that anyone reads this, and my hopes are to write a book entailing the quest. I want somehow to incorporate the Godly perspective in all of this. Not sure how that will happen, but faithful that God will lead the way, if I just begin the typing.
A lot of the time, I don't really know where it all comes from when I write. I don't speak eloquently. I'm not over the top intelligent, probably just average Jill based on my life choices. That's to be held for the second book. How NOT to Live Your Life by Buga Fairley. So I'll maintain that God uses me for this. I'm sure that someone is getting something out of it.
Back to the quest. I am not even sure where I left off, so I'll just tell you what's happened recently. Approximately six weeks ago I felt brave one day. But let me preface this with it started with me lying on the green couch wailing out to God that I didn't understand why this woman wouldn't talk to me. I laid there alone, sun beaming in directly at me through the naked window, cradling the phone and scolding it's power at the same time.
I had effectively, on a whim, decided that I would call my birth uncle (by marriage), who is a complete stranger to me.
The uncle has a name. It's Wayne. He is married to my birth mother's older sister, who is 8 years older. He was easily located because he owns a business and let's face it, Google makes everything easier. What did we ever do without it? Bing doesn't hold a candle, but that's beside the point.
It apparently was his cell phone, because the voice mail didn't mention the company name. I left a message.
Hello Wayne. My name is Brooke Fairley and I'm calling on a personal note. Please call me back when you have some time. I almost hung up without giving him my number. Choke it up to nervous jitters.
I hung up and decided that he would probably not call me back.
I laid on the green couch and cried. What had I just done? All the rules of adoptee to birth mother engagement say that this is the absolute wrong approach. They tell us that this sort of thing only pisses people off. Because of the shame brought onto the mothers and the high degree of privacy they maintain to achieve throughout the years, this abrupt calling of near relatives before ever speaking to the birth mother is a big no-no. The crippling fear of being found out has these mothers in knots. They go on for their whole lives, some of them, thinking that one day they will be found. Paralyzed by the very thought.
I did it anyway.
You see, these women, went to undeniable lengths to hide their pregnancies. They couldn't face the harsh public eye. If subjected to it, they would be shunned and could lose everything.
That was the mentality.
The devil is a liar. He is out to steal, kill, and destroy. He stole the baby from the mothers. He killed any chance at happiness after having a baby for these mothers. And that asshole destroyed any chance of a relationship. I believe that the cruelty of the times was a direct result of his terrible doings. He instilled the fear, produced the anxiety, and discouraged mothers from keeping their babies by fueling the fires in the public eye.
God's answer was adoption. He gave the parents who could not have children the opportunity to be parents. Who knows if maybe God had previously decided to not allow those parents to have children. And through his loving grace gave them a second chance, answered their prayers, gave them children to love. It's my opinion that parents who adopt are the most loving of all. They take in a child that didn't come from their own womb, and love that child as if she were their own blood. They make an agreement with God (and with an agency likely) to take care of the child for the rest of their lives. That means unconditional love.
The Bible tells us that we are all adopted by God. Ephesians 1:5 says, God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.
I believe that adoption is the ultimate gift and lesson at the same time. Parents make a commitment to God and adoptees know what it feels like to be loved by people who weren't forced by law to love them. To be taken care of by these selfless people is the greatest gift. It is the ultimate gift of grace and it's human grace, which is something we don't see enough of.
So I waited on the couch, crying out to God in another moment of misunderstanding. I was letting the better part of me sink, and the questioning part of me rise and demand answers. So in my temporary insanity, I thought it would be OK to make that call that I knew in my heart was the wrong thing to do. And I had to live with myself.
You see, love doesn't make demands. And I was demanding that this woman confront me from all angles. I had now sunken to new lows by attempting to allow someone who may or may not have known about my birth, in on our little secret.
That was dangerous. But what did I have to lose? I guess, my integrity. The devil doesn't want us to have it. And I let him win that battle. Regretably so.
As the light was beaming on my face and I was holding the phone still against my chest, it rang. It was Wayne. The call went like this.
Hello, this is Wayne. I am returning your call.
Yes. Hello Wayne. Thank you for calling me back. Um... (long pause). This is a little awkward for me, and it probably will be for you. Are you available to talk for a little bit?
Yes. Sure. (sounding curious though puzzled)
Your sister in law, Colette, is my birth mother. In 1976 she had a baby, and gave her up for adoption. That's me. I'm the baby.
to be continued....
Friday, October 18, 2013
Paperwork Schmaperwerk
It has been months I've made any brazen attempts at knowing this strange woman who quite possibly begrudgingly carried me in her warm womb, then in a matter of six short, but painful hours, squeezed me through her birth canal and then left my life forever. The paperwork I have on my birth which is completely compiled in one tight paragraph, did not detail the nuances of childbirth and pregnancy the way most loving mothers would recall having their first born child- splashed with descriptive actions like 'felt your little kicks" and, "rubbing my belly," and the word glisten was perfectly absent. There is a simple, almost polite, completely sterile, three sentence paragraph with not a single comma. Bland and nondescript- as if baby birthing in 1976 was equal to a one-liner joke told by a Rodney Dangerfield impersonator in a seedy off off Broadway flat in NY's finest shitty neighborhood. I don't get it. Not one iota of detail surrounding the birth of a human being except a scientific description of my twisted right foot, and a suggested path to correction. Wow. That is one great book to read- about as informative and interesting as reading a printer manual in Mandarin.
I guess this disgusting lack of description is particularly deflating to someone like me for selfish reasons. I like to describe things. Nothing makes me more happy than to accurately and intricately outline a story. I like to know the juice, drink the juice, be the juice. The nitty gritty intrigues my mind, and I get off on being understood and explaining things to the point of undeniability. And when it is finished, you'll know because you will want more- like now. Like exactly now.
Truth be told, all of this driving desire to reunite with these perfect strangers is a combo of selfish determination and self-unawareness- self being the key descriptor. It's just not right to want to invade someones privacy for senseless reasons that only pertain to myself. Devilishly transparent, even putrid you might be thinking. Either way, I will get to the bottom of this if I have to think this thing into the ground and later excavate it. I hate to say this will be the death of me because I am hoping and praying that breath will be spoken into this relationship, but I have somewhat prepared for a slam in the face heart-wrenching NO, which is really what I've already been dealing with I suppose. The fact that these long lost people of mine, well formerly mine, in utero only, have not responded to my oddball requests and multiple letters to my birth mother, each more forceful than its predecessor, the fact that they have not responded in any form or fashion reminds me of Dumb and Dumber when Lloyd was told that there was one in a million chances that he would have a chance with the girl, and he jumped up, clicking his heels, and said, "You mean there is a chance!" Actually, in the movie I don't recall any leprechaun heel clicking moves in that scene, but there could have been. My memory isn't as good as yours probably.
I have turned into Lloyd. Great. Despite the very real truth that I love Dumb and Dumber with all my heart and even have a VHS copy of it in case the DVD accidentally cracks, I do not insist on insulting my intelligence like that, but I prefer to see the humor in most things uncomfortable.
Lucky for me (and Lloyd) there is hope- that small sliver of detail that people often forget about when the going gets rough. I plan to rely on that and faith for the rest of my life, and until either of those run out, I know in my heart that I will be fine. Period.
I will continue the elusive chase I imagine, until I feel satisfied with one answer, or until I am completely pushed off the face of the earth- whichever comes first.
I like to keep the stalking fresh and switch it up every now and then. Occasionally, banging through the keyboard by means of a random message sent on Facebook, not surprising at all if you think about it, considering 100,000,000,000 (too many zeros) people are finely in-tune with it's feed and consider posting to it a daily ritual, myself included. I have not picked up the phone to call my birth aunt though lately; Melody is her name- to announce to her family on what sounded like a 1987 Radio Shack answering machine that I have been looking for them for quite some time, and that I believe that we are related. No return call. Twice I called, twice left messages, the second more direct than the first and probably more insistent on a return call, which was not honored nor probably appreciated, based on the response I got- which was zip, zilch, and zero all combined into a whopping bag of nothing.
I have also written the birth mother one snail mail letter, and two separate emails. None returned, so that is a clear indicator that Mr.M Daemon did not get a hold of them. I also have bombarded her friend, and my former friend who has assimilated to the non-responsiveness that the rest of the family is taking up. She unknowingly released the privied information to the search angel, Debi, who ultimately found my birth mother for me, in a very closed, and very sealed adoption dating back to the seventies. I just aged myself, but for the sake of the storyline, which is really my life story unfolding as you see it here, I will take it like a champ. The friend who outed my birth mother, probably got a tongue lashing and a cold shoulder after that, which might assign some truth into the character of my birth mother and her unassuming family. Well I honestly don't believe she told any one in her family other than her sister, and parents who visited her while she was in the maternity home which was and still is located in Charlotte.
One day soon, I might have a visit to the Florence Crittenton Home for unwed mothers. I might just have a visit this weekend. I'll take my camera and upload some pics of the joint since no one thought it was appropriate back then when I was born. I guess instead of creating memories, the birth mothers wanted to shove the memory of birthing a baby and giving it away to complete strangers to raise is something that was not especially camera worthy, and not exactly fond, and probably something that kept resurfacing at odd times throughout the years creating much pain and undue suffering.
But I guess back then, the idea was to keep the privacy of the adoptive parents at the forefront, and the rights of the birth parents practically abolished like the detailed descriptions were of the births and what led up to the births. That would include any real life situations that could have been addressed without having to give up a child. Maybe that is the truth. Maybe if those thoughts were revisited for too long, ideas would form that would lead to different outcomes and different lives, affecting the world in a much easier, digestible light. Maybe, just maybe I would not be sitting here right now, typing this.
I am very thankful for my family. Do not get it twisted. I am truly blessed, but with that blessing came a very real interest, inherited if you will, and born deep into my soul in finding my people. I think anyone who takes that for granted has no idea what it is like to be the one who doesn't.
If it happens that we meet, that we exchange some open communication, some rhetoric is dialed up, maybe even some real life interaction, I don't know what I should expect because I have already formed in my mind what it will look like when it happens. That is a probably one of the only private things about this story of mine that I have remained sealed about. That too, will be revealed, as more is revealed, an unveiling of a mystery. That mystery holds the key to me. And by God, I am determined to get to the bottom of it- even if the outcome is devastatingly unfavorable. I can assume closure, and this chapter will be no longer an anomaly in this life.
I guess this disgusting lack of description is particularly deflating to someone like me for selfish reasons. I like to describe things. Nothing makes me more happy than to accurately and intricately outline a story. I like to know the juice, drink the juice, be the juice. The nitty gritty intrigues my mind, and I get off on being understood and explaining things to the point of undeniability. And when it is finished, you'll know because you will want more- like now. Like exactly now.
Truth be told, all of this driving desire to reunite with these perfect strangers is a combo of selfish determination and self-unawareness- self being the key descriptor. It's just not right to want to invade someones privacy for senseless reasons that only pertain to myself. Devilishly transparent, even putrid you might be thinking. Either way, I will get to the bottom of this if I have to think this thing into the ground and later excavate it. I hate to say this will be the death of me because I am hoping and praying that breath will be spoken into this relationship, but I have somewhat prepared for a slam in the face heart-wrenching NO, which is really what I've already been dealing with I suppose. The fact that these long lost people of mine, well formerly mine, in utero only, have not responded to my oddball requests and multiple letters to my birth mother, each more forceful than its predecessor, the fact that they have not responded in any form or fashion reminds me of Dumb and Dumber when Lloyd was told that there was one in a million chances that he would have a chance with the girl, and he jumped up, clicking his heels, and said, "You mean there is a chance!" Actually, in the movie I don't recall any leprechaun heel clicking moves in that scene, but there could have been. My memory isn't as good as yours probably.
I have turned into Lloyd. Great. Despite the very real truth that I love Dumb and Dumber with all my heart and even have a VHS copy of it in case the DVD accidentally cracks, I do not insist on insulting my intelligence like that, but I prefer to see the humor in most things uncomfortable.
Lucky for me (and Lloyd) there is hope- that small sliver of detail that people often forget about when the going gets rough. I plan to rely on that and faith for the rest of my life, and until either of those run out, I know in my heart that I will be fine. Period.
I will continue the elusive chase I imagine, until I feel satisfied with one answer, or until I am completely pushed off the face of the earth- whichever comes first.
I like to keep the stalking fresh and switch it up every now and then. Occasionally, banging through the keyboard by means of a random message sent on Facebook, not surprising at all if you think about it, considering 100,000,000,000 (too many zeros) people are finely in-tune with it's feed and consider posting to it a daily ritual, myself included. I have not picked up the phone to call my birth aunt though lately; Melody is her name- to announce to her family on what sounded like a 1987 Radio Shack answering machine that I have been looking for them for quite some time, and that I believe that we are related. No return call. Twice I called, twice left messages, the second more direct than the first and probably more insistent on a return call, which was not honored nor probably appreciated, based on the response I got- which was zip, zilch, and zero all combined into a whopping bag of nothing.
I have also written the birth mother one snail mail letter, and two separate emails. None returned, so that is a clear indicator that Mr.M Daemon did not get a hold of them. I also have bombarded her friend, and my former friend who has assimilated to the non-responsiveness that the rest of the family is taking up. She unknowingly released the privied information to the search angel, Debi, who ultimately found my birth mother for me, in a very closed, and very sealed adoption dating back to the seventies. I just aged myself, but for the sake of the storyline, which is really my life story unfolding as you see it here, I will take it like a champ. The friend who outed my birth mother, probably got a tongue lashing and a cold shoulder after that, which might assign some truth into the character of my birth mother and her unassuming family. Well I honestly don't believe she told any one in her family other than her sister, and parents who visited her while she was in the maternity home which was and still is located in Charlotte.
One day soon, I might have a visit to the Florence Crittenton Home for unwed mothers. I might just have a visit this weekend. I'll take my camera and upload some pics of the joint since no one thought it was appropriate back then when I was born. I guess instead of creating memories, the birth mothers wanted to shove the memory of birthing a baby and giving it away to complete strangers to raise is something that was not especially camera worthy, and not exactly fond, and probably something that kept resurfacing at odd times throughout the years creating much pain and undue suffering.
But I guess back then, the idea was to keep the privacy of the adoptive parents at the forefront, and the rights of the birth parents practically abolished like the detailed descriptions were of the births and what led up to the births. That would include any real life situations that could have been addressed without having to give up a child. Maybe that is the truth. Maybe if those thoughts were revisited for too long, ideas would form that would lead to different outcomes and different lives, affecting the world in a much easier, digestible light. Maybe, just maybe I would not be sitting here right now, typing this.
I am very thankful for my family. Do not get it twisted. I am truly blessed, but with that blessing came a very real interest, inherited if you will, and born deep into my soul in finding my people. I think anyone who takes that for granted has no idea what it is like to be the one who doesn't.
If it happens that we meet, that we exchange some open communication, some rhetoric is dialed up, maybe even some real life interaction, I don't know what I should expect because I have already formed in my mind what it will look like when it happens. That is a probably one of the only private things about this story of mine that I have remained sealed about. That too, will be revealed, as more is revealed, an unveiling of a mystery. That mystery holds the key to me. And by God, I am determined to get to the bottom of it- even if the outcome is devastatingly unfavorable. I can assume closure, and this chapter will be no longer an anomaly in this life.
Monday, April 15, 2013
My Sobriety and Her Secrets Revealed
My birthday came and went like most birthdays normally do. Part of me was secretly wishing to find a letter in my mailbox from Colette. The other parts of me were toying with many other ideas, one in particular- that I would mail her another card for my birthday, and as I think about it more and more, I still feel like I should, yet I'm positively hesitant.
As I have told my story to the people in my life who care enough to ask or read this blog, I have always been left with new outlooks after our conversations. It's true you never know what another person is going through until you have walked a mile in one's shoes. The truth is, we will never be anyone else, never walk in another's shoes, unless we leave ours on the roof of the car and drive off forgetting they were there, and never fully grasp what another is thinking or feeling. In my stuckness, in my Brookeness, I will never truly know what Colette is going through when she thinks of me, and how I would play a role in her life if we were to meet today.
I equate what she might be feeling with my ceasing to drink alcohol. I have never been fully aware of what it's like to be sober on my own accord for my entire adult life, except during pregnancy. I have gone a month here and a month there, maybe a few months at a time, but I never intended to be sober forever like I plan to now. My whole way of life will be altered, changed forever, for the good I am certain. My friends will probably drop like flies, my outlook will modify, my activities for sure will change, not being consummed with where the next drink will take place or when. Everything will change, again I am certain for the better. I will not be the same Brooke anymore. I will evolve, just as Colette has evolved from that scared 21 year old college student who accidentally got pregnant by her boyfriend. She is not the same person anymore, no longer a kid full with dreams and excitement mixed with nervousness. She has gone through a lot since I was born- had more children, been married and divorced, lost both parents, made a career and name for herself. She has evolved.
I too shall evolve.
I was planning to parallel the changes that could take place in both of our lives based on uncertainties that could arise from a first meeting that hasn't taken place yet, and maybe never will, but realized as I thought through it more today on the green couch, while sipping my overly stout coffee, that there are more locked boxes that need to be pryed open. Way more.
There are so many things to be accounted for.
She doesn't know what our lives will be like if entangled with one another just as I don't know what living sober will be like. It's likely I will become withdrawn over the course, pouring into my writing, into Sarah, and certainly be engulfed in self-discovery when I have for so long tried to mask myself of who I was- a drunk- powerless and often misunderstood. I will emerge a butterfly through my change, with sparkling colors and a wing span that screams immense. My upward mobility will not be squandered in thoughtless acts, in a drunken disguise. I will finally be myself again, what God wishes for my life, what I have wished for, for so long.
It will be a choice and not a consequence.
Colette will be able to put her shame behind her, her fear of the unknown, her disguise. She would be able to say to someone that she couldn't talk to before, "Yes, I had a baby. Yes, I did it in secret, and now I am not afraid to tell the world that I did those things because I am not that child anymore. I can be myself. I can let go of my anxiety, my overwhelmed feelings, my hurtful past that was squashed over and over for all the wrong reasons." She can let go of it all just by meeting me. She can see that she did the right thing by giving me up. There is nothing more appropriate than a meeting with me to release her of those feelings forever. So I think. One meeting could be the closure that she needed- one time seeing my face and wrapping her arms around me, and feeling my heart when she speaks to me, when we speak to eachother, and knowing my soul is good. That would be all it would take.
That sounds like a fairy tale probably because I believe in fairy tales. Of the many things I struggle with, helping to set her free is one of them, and if not meeting me ever, never looking into my eyes is what will ultimately heal her, I guess that will be that. It will make me sad to know that she will never invite me to see her, but at least I will know that I conquered a major setback in my own life while trying to help someone else with theirs. I will be sober, and I will notice the little things, become acquainted with beauty and understand that relationships aren't driven by disguises. I will be able to account for everything in my life, and without shame.
Shame is another senseless depressor that ties us together in this tangled web. I will be released from mine, and she will also. Simultaneously, we could lose it forever- the shame, the paralyzing guilt. We can bounce good energy off one another, share in our successes, leave the quiet desperation behind forever.
If I were to dive deeper into this whole thing called life, I would also notice that my unemployment has pushed me into things that I needed to settle. I needed this break of the schedule. I needed to work some things out, and push myself in ways that people don't normally gravitate towards, but instead are usually pushed into. I can't complain about my life. It's pretty amazing right now. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I have a mother who loves me unconditionally, who takes great pride in loving me that way, and to her death always will. She is amazing, and more and more I realize that she is the only mother that I will ever need. Thank God for my real mom- Lynne. I am truly blessed, always have been.
All in all, I will be fine, and so will Colette if we meet or not.
Lord, keep me thankful, keep me sober, and please Lord just keep me.
As I have told my story to the people in my life who care enough to ask or read this blog, I have always been left with new outlooks after our conversations. It's true you never know what another person is going through until you have walked a mile in one's shoes. The truth is, we will never be anyone else, never walk in another's shoes, unless we leave ours on the roof of the car and drive off forgetting they were there, and never fully grasp what another is thinking or feeling. In my stuckness, in my Brookeness, I will never truly know what Colette is going through when she thinks of me, and how I would play a role in her life if we were to meet today.
I equate what she might be feeling with my ceasing to drink alcohol. I have never been fully aware of what it's like to be sober on my own accord for my entire adult life, except during pregnancy. I have gone a month here and a month there, maybe a few months at a time, but I never intended to be sober forever like I plan to now. My whole way of life will be altered, changed forever, for the good I am certain. My friends will probably drop like flies, my outlook will modify, my activities for sure will change, not being consummed with where the next drink will take place or when. Everything will change, again I am certain for the better. I will not be the same Brooke anymore. I will evolve, just as Colette has evolved from that scared 21 year old college student who accidentally got pregnant by her boyfriend. She is not the same person anymore, no longer a kid full with dreams and excitement mixed with nervousness. She has gone through a lot since I was born- had more children, been married and divorced, lost both parents, made a career and name for herself. She has evolved.
I too shall evolve.
I was planning to parallel the changes that could take place in both of our lives based on uncertainties that could arise from a first meeting that hasn't taken place yet, and maybe never will, but realized as I thought through it more today on the green couch, while sipping my overly stout coffee, that there are more locked boxes that need to be pryed open. Way more.
There are so many things to be accounted for.
She doesn't know what our lives will be like if entangled with one another just as I don't know what living sober will be like. It's likely I will become withdrawn over the course, pouring into my writing, into Sarah, and certainly be engulfed in self-discovery when I have for so long tried to mask myself of who I was- a drunk- powerless and often misunderstood. I will emerge a butterfly through my change, with sparkling colors and a wing span that screams immense. My upward mobility will not be squandered in thoughtless acts, in a drunken disguise. I will finally be myself again, what God wishes for my life, what I have wished for, for so long.
It will be a choice and not a consequence.
Colette will be able to put her shame behind her, her fear of the unknown, her disguise. She would be able to say to someone that she couldn't talk to before, "Yes, I had a baby. Yes, I did it in secret, and now I am not afraid to tell the world that I did those things because I am not that child anymore. I can be myself. I can let go of my anxiety, my overwhelmed feelings, my hurtful past that was squashed over and over for all the wrong reasons." She can let go of it all just by meeting me. She can see that she did the right thing by giving me up. There is nothing more appropriate than a meeting with me to release her of those feelings forever. So I think. One meeting could be the closure that she needed- one time seeing my face and wrapping her arms around me, and feeling my heart when she speaks to me, when we speak to eachother, and knowing my soul is good. That would be all it would take.
That sounds like a fairy tale probably because I believe in fairy tales. Of the many things I struggle with, helping to set her free is one of them, and if not meeting me ever, never looking into my eyes is what will ultimately heal her, I guess that will be that. It will make me sad to know that she will never invite me to see her, but at least I will know that I conquered a major setback in my own life while trying to help someone else with theirs. I will be sober, and I will notice the little things, become acquainted with beauty and understand that relationships aren't driven by disguises. I will be able to account for everything in my life, and without shame.
Shame is another senseless depressor that ties us together in this tangled web. I will be released from mine, and she will also. Simultaneously, we could lose it forever- the shame, the paralyzing guilt. We can bounce good energy off one another, share in our successes, leave the quiet desperation behind forever.
If I were to dive deeper into this whole thing called life, I would also notice that my unemployment has pushed me into things that I needed to settle. I needed this break of the schedule. I needed to work some things out, and push myself in ways that people don't normally gravitate towards, but instead are usually pushed into. I can't complain about my life. It's pretty amazing right now. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I have a mother who loves me unconditionally, who takes great pride in loving me that way, and to her death always will. She is amazing, and more and more I realize that she is the only mother that I will ever need. Thank God for my real mom- Lynne. I am truly blessed, always have been.
All in all, I will be fine, and so will Colette if we meet or not.
Lord, keep me thankful, keep me sober, and please Lord just keep me.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Exercising your Democratic Demons- VOTE TODAY
I know, voting has little to nothing to do with my adoption, but exercising your right to vote has everything to do with being American. I encourage everyone to vote today AGAINST Amendment One. You might be thinking, "and you claim to be Christian?" You might be thinking, "that is against the sanctity of marriage". WRONG. It's for LOVE. It's FOR the freedom of choice God gave us when he made us. It's FOR keeping insurance for children of gay parents and for men and women living together who aren't gay, also referred to as common law marriage. Let me explain this further for those of you who have not read up on the issue- many of us haven't until recently, myself included.
Say I lived with Sarah's father still. Thank God I had the guts to get away from his pathetic excuse for a human being self when I did. (Sarah was one, when I finally grew a set. I was encouraged by many friends, but Boyce was with me when we took his things to his parents house and finally said, "SIANARA SUCKA". Thank you Boyce.)We were never married. But we lived together for 3 horrible, long years. Do I sound jaded? I'm not really. I can tolerate him now. Anywho, if I had gotten in a serious car accident, and there was a decision to be made on my health, God forbid, if there was a decision to be made on my life vs pulling a plug, Paul would not have been able to make that decision even though we lived together if this amendment would have been passed. He would also not have been able to have the insurance that he did through my company. When he cut his hand really badly at work he wouldn't have been able to afford health care so he probably wouldn't have gone to the hospital for treatment. If this amendment passes there is a very good possibility that many people who have insurance- including MANY children, under current domestic partnership acknowledgements, could and very most likely will lose their insurance. This is a very real threat to many Americans. The reason that this could happen is like this:
Example: Ameriprise Financial acknowledges domestic partnerships currently. There are many AMPF employees who receive benefits through this acknowledgement. Shareholder #34 doesn't agree with this. He doesn't think it's fair that he is paying for insurance for a couple that is "not married". He decides to sue AMPF for going against the NC Constitution by allowing non-married couples insurance. Therefore, AMPF, nationally will cut all insurance for all domestic partnerships cutting thousands upon thousands of families their benefits. Imagine if that was you and your child has spinibifida. You and your child lose insurance. Now what? She goes to Medicaid? What kind of insurance is that? Is that top of the line care? I doubt it. Don't you want the best for your child? Yes. The answer is always yes if you are normal.
The amount of lawsuits that will spring up from this amendment will be devastating and cause a trickle down effect. This will back up the courts. This will cause loss of productivity. This will cause longer wait times on hold with your insurance company (an insignificant value, but an effect nonetheless). This will cause inflation because so many people will not be able to afford quality health care, and will be looking to Medicaid for support. This will cause taxes to increase. This is devastating to the country. I didn't touch on many other reasons.
This amendment is also discriminatory. It screams, "We don't care about you. You are not worth as much as we are." It's demoralizing, and downright wrong.
There are so many reasons I'm voting against the amendment.
But...one of the main reasons I'm voting against this Amendment is this: I don't believe that GOD himself would vote for this Amendment. I think it's not something that he's pouring over. He is not worried about who loves who. He's probably more concerned about who doesn't love who- and that's what this amendment is about. It's about division. It's judgemental. It's not understanding of others. It's not loving. It's not fair. It's also not fair for the government to decide what marriage should be. I don't want Uncle Sam telling me which church to go to or what Bible to read. I certainly don't want them deciding who should be allowed to be married and who shouldn't.
I love the Lord, and I am voting AGAINST AMENDMENT ONE.
Even if you don't agree with me- you should at least put your two cents in by voting. Stand up for your right to vote.
I anticipate this will have a higher voter turn out than the presidential primaries did. Gay people make up a VERY LARGE portion of society. Don't leave them in the cold. Unmarried couples living together with children make up an even larger portion of society. You most likely know at least one in each category. Do you not care about their rights? Are they not as good as you? Don't be a judge when we both know there is only one real judge.
Say I lived with Sarah's father still. Thank God I had the guts to get away from his pathetic excuse for a human being self when I did. (Sarah was one, when I finally grew a set. I was encouraged by many friends, but Boyce was with me when we took his things to his parents house and finally said, "SIANARA SUCKA". Thank you Boyce.)We were never married. But we lived together for 3 horrible, long years. Do I sound jaded? I'm not really. I can tolerate him now. Anywho, if I had gotten in a serious car accident, and there was a decision to be made on my health, God forbid, if there was a decision to be made on my life vs pulling a plug, Paul would not have been able to make that decision even though we lived together if this amendment would have been passed. He would also not have been able to have the insurance that he did through my company. When he cut his hand really badly at work he wouldn't have been able to afford health care so he probably wouldn't have gone to the hospital for treatment. If this amendment passes there is a very good possibility that many people who have insurance- including MANY children, under current domestic partnership acknowledgements, could and very most likely will lose their insurance. This is a very real threat to many Americans. The reason that this could happen is like this:
Example: Ameriprise Financial acknowledges domestic partnerships currently. There are many AMPF employees who receive benefits through this acknowledgement. Shareholder #34 doesn't agree with this. He doesn't think it's fair that he is paying for insurance for a couple that is "not married". He decides to sue AMPF for going against the NC Constitution by allowing non-married couples insurance. Therefore, AMPF, nationally will cut all insurance for all domestic partnerships cutting thousands upon thousands of families their benefits. Imagine if that was you and your child has spinibifida. You and your child lose insurance. Now what? She goes to Medicaid? What kind of insurance is that? Is that top of the line care? I doubt it. Don't you want the best for your child? Yes. The answer is always yes if you are normal.
The amount of lawsuits that will spring up from this amendment will be devastating and cause a trickle down effect. This will back up the courts. This will cause loss of productivity. This will cause longer wait times on hold with your insurance company (an insignificant value, but an effect nonetheless). This will cause inflation because so many people will not be able to afford quality health care, and will be looking to Medicaid for support. This will cause taxes to increase. This is devastating to the country. I didn't touch on many other reasons.
This amendment is also discriminatory. It screams, "We don't care about you. You are not worth as much as we are." It's demoralizing, and downright wrong.
There are so many reasons I'm voting against the amendment.
But...one of the main reasons I'm voting against this Amendment is this: I don't believe that GOD himself would vote for this Amendment. I think it's not something that he's pouring over. He is not worried about who loves who. He's probably more concerned about who doesn't love who- and that's what this amendment is about. It's about division. It's judgemental. It's not understanding of others. It's not loving. It's not fair. It's also not fair for the government to decide what marriage should be. I don't want Uncle Sam telling me which church to go to or what Bible to read. I certainly don't want them deciding who should be allowed to be married and who shouldn't.
I love the Lord, and I am voting AGAINST AMENDMENT ONE.
Even if you don't agree with me- you should at least put your two cents in by voting. Stand up for your right to vote.
I anticipate this will have a higher voter turn out than the presidential primaries did. Gay people make up a VERY LARGE portion of society. Don't leave them in the cold. Unmarried couples living together with children make up an even larger portion of society. You most likely know at least one in each category. Do you not care about their rights? Are they not as good as you? Don't be a judge when we both know there is only one real judge.
Monday, April 23, 2012
My FINAL post...a happy ending
It dawned on me that my birth mother might find this blog now that she has my name. It would not be hard for her to find this since for some probably incredibly self-absorbed reason I have tweeted a post here and there. I can't explain why I feel compelled to share such a personal struggle with an often cold, heartless world, and even if I could, you most likely would not understand it unless you are adopted. In fact, I came to the realization that most people do not understand the dynamic of adoption- including the adoptees. I've noticed that many adoptees don't see the goodness in it, because they are sometimes too self-absorbed and reeling from the unknowns that they themselves do not find the truth in the matter- that adoption more often than not, stemmed from love in the purest form. It stemmed from a place in the heart that has boundless love and grace.
People don't realize that when we give something up, we are making room for something new and something better. That's how God describes brokenness. He says that he must break us to rebuild us. And how can I go my entire life thinking about why this woman gave me up without first realizing that had she not have, I would not know the people that I do, had the family that I have, or led the life that I've lived? How could I not have the perspective that shows me that what I have been devoid of, was nothing that really made a difference in of itself to begin with? I would have never thought that I would come to this realization while sitting at my computer at work on a Monday morning.
I finally came full circle.
I realize now that whatever it was that I felt I needed so badly in my life, my birth mother, my blood relatives, my history, never really mattered in the first place. I never needed what I didn't have, and I think that's what God was trying to tell me all this time I have been writing this blog and doing this search, acting as if it was a rescue. I never needed to be saved, and neither did Colette. We were separated for a reason that God had planned. We needed to be taught some of the most valuable of all lessons. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for myself. I think he was trying to generate some gratitude from me- gratitude that I have always had what I needed when I needed it, and for as long as I needed it. That's my gift in all of this. I am finally beginning to understand the lesson at hand- the lifelong lesson, and they are always lifelong in my opinion. We can never have too much knowledge, too much understanding, too much grace. I have received it, and I thank God for giving me this gift that never ceases to fill hearts- the gift of gratitude, of gratefulness, of thankfulness, of grace. And boy do I need all I can get of grace. But in order for me to be able to receive God's gifts in my life, I needed to be thankful for what I have already been given- which is a life of wonderful blessings. I have a wonderful family, a beautiful daughter. I have a great job. I have a house, a car, and I attend a wonderful church that I feel so happy to be a part of. But the things that matter most...matters of the heart, those are the true blessings- the intangibles- happiness, love, gratitude, peace, joy, generosity, kindness, understanding of others, cheer, consideration of others.
So as of right now this second, I have finally realized that I do not need to know the reasons for my lifelong separation from the woman who gave birth to me. It doesn't matter. It was a loving plan that God had made for me. It was His way of saying, "I love you, my child," as he continually does for all of us. It's unfortunate that we don't pay enough attention to His whispers. I am so glad that I finally heard Him say, "You are MY child, Brooke."
I think I can probably retire this blog now. So it's with great pleasure and peace in my heart that I can bid you au revoir...
Unless I hear from Colette of course, and I will fill you in then...
People don't realize that when we give something up, we are making room for something new and something better. That's how God describes brokenness. He says that he must break us to rebuild us. And how can I go my entire life thinking about why this woman gave me up without first realizing that had she not have, I would not know the people that I do, had the family that I have, or led the life that I've lived? How could I not have the perspective that shows me that what I have been devoid of, was nothing that really made a difference in of itself to begin with? I would have never thought that I would come to this realization while sitting at my computer at work on a Monday morning.
I finally came full circle.
I realize now that whatever it was that I felt I needed so badly in my life, my birth mother, my blood relatives, my history, never really mattered in the first place. I never needed what I didn't have, and I think that's what God was trying to tell me all this time I have been writing this blog and doing this search, acting as if it was a rescue. I never needed to be saved, and neither did Colette. We were separated for a reason that God had planned. We needed to be taught some of the most valuable of all lessons. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for myself. I think he was trying to generate some gratitude from me- gratitude that I have always had what I needed when I needed it, and for as long as I needed it. That's my gift in all of this. I am finally beginning to understand the lesson at hand- the lifelong lesson, and they are always lifelong in my opinion. We can never have too much knowledge, too much understanding, too much grace. I have received it, and I thank God for giving me this gift that never ceases to fill hearts- the gift of gratitude, of gratefulness, of thankfulness, of grace. And boy do I need all I can get of grace. But in order for me to be able to receive God's gifts in my life, I needed to be thankful for what I have already been given- which is a life of wonderful blessings. I have a wonderful family, a beautiful daughter. I have a great job. I have a house, a car, and I attend a wonderful church that I feel so happy to be a part of. But the things that matter most...matters of the heart, those are the true blessings- the intangibles- happiness, love, gratitude, peace, joy, generosity, kindness, understanding of others, cheer, consideration of others.
So as of right now this second, I have finally realized that I do not need to know the reasons for my lifelong separation from the woman who gave birth to me. It doesn't matter. It was a loving plan that God had made for me. It was His way of saying, "I love you, my child," as he continually does for all of us. It's unfortunate that we don't pay enough attention to His whispers. I am so glad that I finally heard Him say, "You are MY child, Brooke."
I think I can probably retire this blog now. So it's with great pleasure and peace in my heart that I can bid you au revoir...
Unless I hear from Colette of course, and I will fill you in then...
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Day 6- no response, but it's fine.
So, I haven't posted anything since the day I dropped the card on April 11. My boss, Lynn, went with me to do it. She is incredibly freaking awesome, and has been nothing but encouraging to me and supportive. I am blessed to have a boss that actually cares about me on a personal level. (It's all personal in my opinion- everything is.)
There really hasn't been a good reason for my lack of posting, except that I haven't had a lot of time, and I haven't had much to say about it. Everyone keeps asking me if I've heard anything, to which I have replied a monotone, and today a somewhat saddened, "No". It's kind of like when you are not pregnant and someone asks you if you are. You either feel one of two things: you're really pissed at the person for insinuating you are plumper than you thought you were, OR, you are upset because you want to be pregnant, but for some reason, maybe God has another loving plan for your life, you are not. Either way, I am focused on staying positive and trying not to think of it too much, and praying for Colette, when I remember to. I forget to pray too much. It's one of the things I'm working on.
I know it will end up the way God intended it to end up, so knowing that makes it easier. It took me since last August to gain the courage to make the first move, to give up the upper hand, which relinquished me from having all the power in this dynamic situation. Sometimes, that's all God wants from us- for us to set aside our pride, to let go of the upper hand, and let Him do His job. That's not easy for someone like me, and probably most people. But it's something we all must do, so that He can give us our best. So for today, and hopefully for the rest of my life, I will relinquish the control to Him, and let Him be the decider of my fate, and trust Him that it will be what is right and good.
I know I preach a lot, and it might bother a few of you who read my blog, and I'm sorry if you are one of those people, not because I'm possibly offending you, but because I'm sorry you aren't strong enough to let go of your foolish pride that holds you back from believing in our beautiful Author and Creator, the one who beckons at you every day, in many many ways, and wants you back.
There really hasn't been a good reason for my lack of posting, except that I haven't had a lot of time, and I haven't had much to say about it. Everyone keeps asking me if I've heard anything, to which I have replied a monotone, and today a somewhat saddened, "No". It's kind of like when you are not pregnant and someone asks you if you are. You either feel one of two things: you're really pissed at the person for insinuating you are plumper than you thought you were, OR, you are upset because you want to be pregnant, but for some reason, maybe God has another loving plan for your life, you are not. Either way, I am focused on staying positive and trying not to think of it too much, and praying for Colette, when I remember to. I forget to pray too much. It's one of the things I'm working on.
I know it will end up the way God intended it to end up, so knowing that makes it easier. It took me since last August to gain the courage to make the first move, to give up the upper hand, which relinquished me from having all the power in this dynamic situation. Sometimes, that's all God wants from us- for us to set aside our pride, to let go of the upper hand, and let Him do His job. That's not easy for someone like me, and probably most people. But it's something we all must do, so that He can give us our best. So for today, and hopefully for the rest of my life, I will relinquish the control to Him, and let Him be the decider of my fate, and trust Him that it will be what is right and good.
I know I preach a lot, and it might bother a few of you who read my blog, and I'm sorry if you are one of those people, not because I'm possibly offending you, but because I'm sorry you aren't strong enough to let go of your foolish pride that holds you back from believing in our beautiful Author and Creator, the one who beckons at you every day, in many many ways, and wants you back.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Tomorrow is the day that we've all been waiting for
For my birthday, which is Thursday, and I'm not telling you how old I am, but with a little digging in my blog you could very easily find out if you cared enough, I am going to mail a card to my birth mother. It's not going to be something long and drawn out. It won't be a tear jerker like my previous letters. Nope. Instead, it will be something short and sweet and to the point. It will more resemble an invitation than anything else. It's time.
You should have seen me at Harris Teeter last night trying to find an appropriate card. It was like watching nursing home residents in their wheelchairs argue about who jumped who in line at 4:30 when the white clothed people ring the cowbell. Some of them hit with their canes, others with their stuffed animals. Either way, it's pretty freaking funny. As you can imagine, there wasn't much to choose from. Had it been cheese that I was looking for, I would have had a much rougher time deciding. There's this nifty, but not thrifty, gift shop here in Charlotte, that has an incredible array of paper products and fun gift ideas that would have sufficiently done the job (thanks Paper Skyscraper for not being in Mint Hill), but as it were, I was there, in Mint Hill, where I loathingly reside, and as I tell people routinely, Mint Hill just doesn't have much to choose from (in anything, men included). There were two cards that I had to choose from. Both were tinging on the side of cheesy and both were altogether pretty lame. One of them made mention of faith, courage, and strength- three of my favorite attributes in people and aliens. The other, had the words inside, "you are thought of more often than you think." I was leaning towards that one, but it had a picture of a cheesy telephone drawn on it, and it looked like something you could pick up at the stab-n-grab on the way to the beach. I decided against it. I got the semi-cheesy one that mentioned courage. I liked what it said. And I had no choice. I would probably go to Paper Skyscraper this afternoon had I not taken the bus today. Taking the bus is economical, but not practical when you are a single mom. Oh well. I refuse to let my lack of a proper card hold me back from finally sending the card. In fact, I think I will just go straight to Walgreens when I get to my car and buy a new card there since they might have a better selection. I'm going to look really silly and really chintzy returning a Hallmark card to Harris Teeter. Who cares? I'm sure I've looked much worse. Just ask anyone I know. I've toppled the charts on looking stupid. I am a hall of famer.
So this is what my note will say verbatim:
For my birthday this year, I wanted to give something precious away, and since I already lost my virginity, I thought I would invite you to join in my life. I think we've been separated long enough. Don't you? I am ready now. I hope you are too. But if you are not, I will hunt you down and kill your family.
OK, no. That's not what it will say verbatim. But it sounded pretty damn funny. Instead I think I will say this:
For my birthday this year, I decided I would send out the best invitation ever to only one person. We have been separated long enough. I'm ready to invite you into my life. I hope you are ready to join. It will only cost you $500/Mo. with no down payment payable in equal installments by the 5th of the month.
OK, no again. But that would be so funny. It will be short and you get the gist. I don't plan on letting her off the hook so easily by telling her that I forgive her for letting me go, even though I'm not mad or hurt. She doesn't need to know everything yet. I also don't plan on telling her about Sarah, but I will include a picture of us together. I think a picture says a thousand words and a few cuss words in the mix in braille if you throw up a bird, which I don't intend on doing. But that would be kinda funny too. I'm beginning to see a pattern here. White couch here I come.
Lastly, and on a more sincere note, I would like to say that I welcome a relationship with my birth mother, and despite having made a mockery of my life and of adoption in general, by writing a blog for my peers and the world to see and gawk at, I truly do care about the outcome. I did this for one main reason- to document my search for other adoptees who are in limbo and in search themselves and feel isolated in that they don't have many peers who can relate to their situation, nor understand, and it has ultimately become a creative outlet for me to express my feelings without cussing someone out, which is never good.
I will post a video of myself dropping the letter in the mailbox at work tomorrow, provided I can get someone to video it. My timing might be off by one day because I don't know how long it will take for the letter to get from Crown Town to J-Vegas, but we shall see. It's been almost 36 years, she can wait one more day. Crap, I ended up telling you anyway. I can't keep a secret to save my life.
You should have seen me at Harris Teeter last night trying to find an appropriate card. It was like watching nursing home residents in their wheelchairs argue about who jumped who in line at 4:30 when the white clothed people ring the cowbell. Some of them hit with their canes, others with their stuffed animals. Either way, it's pretty freaking funny. As you can imagine, there wasn't much to choose from. Had it been cheese that I was looking for, I would have had a much rougher time deciding. There's this nifty, but not thrifty, gift shop here in Charlotte, that has an incredible array of paper products and fun gift ideas that would have sufficiently done the job (thanks Paper Skyscraper for not being in Mint Hill), but as it were, I was there, in Mint Hill, where I loathingly reside, and as I tell people routinely, Mint Hill just doesn't have much to choose from (in anything, men included). There were two cards that I had to choose from. Both were tinging on the side of cheesy and both were altogether pretty lame. One of them made mention of faith, courage, and strength- three of my favorite attributes in people and aliens. The other, had the words inside, "you are thought of more often than you think." I was leaning towards that one, but it had a picture of a cheesy telephone drawn on it, and it looked like something you could pick up at the stab-n-grab on the way to the beach. I decided against it. I got the semi-cheesy one that mentioned courage. I liked what it said. And I had no choice. I would probably go to Paper Skyscraper this afternoon had I not taken the bus today. Taking the bus is economical, but not practical when you are a single mom. Oh well. I refuse to let my lack of a proper card hold me back from finally sending the card. In fact, I think I will just go straight to Walgreens when I get to my car and buy a new card there since they might have a better selection. I'm going to look really silly and really chintzy returning a Hallmark card to Harris Teeter. Who cares? I'm sure I've looked much worse. Just ask anyone I know. I've toppled the charts on looking stupid. I am a hall of famer.
So this is what my note will say verbatim:
For my birthday this year, I wanted to give something precious away, and since I already lost my virginity, I thought I would invite you to join in my life. I think we've been separated long enough. Don't you? I am ready now. I hope you are too. But if you are not, I will hunt you down and kill your family.
OK, no. That's not what it will say verbatim. But it sounded pretty damn funny. Instead I think I will say this:
For my birthday this year, I decided I would send out the best invitation ever to only one person. We have been separated long enough. I'm ready to invite you into my life. I hope you are ready to join. It will only cost you $500/Mo. with no down payment payable in equal installments by the 5th of the month.
OK, no again. But that would be so funny. It will be short and you get the gist. I don't plan on letting her off the hook so easily by telling her that I forgive her for letting me go, even though I'm not mad or hurt. She doesn't need to know everything yet. I also don't plan on telling her about Sarah, but I will include a picture of us together. I think a picture says a thousand words and a few cuss words in the mix in braille if you throw up a bird, which I don't intend on doing. But that would be kinda funny too. I'm beginning to see a pattern here. White couch here I come.
Lastly, and on a more sincere note, I would like to say that I welcome a relationship with my birth mother, and despite having made a mockery of my life and of adoption in general, by writing a blog for my peers and the world to see and gawk at, I truly do care about the outcome. I did this for one main reason- to document my search for other adoptees who are in limbo and in search themselves and feel isolated in that they don't have many peers who can relate to their situation, nor understand, and it has ultimately become a creative outlet for me to express my feelings without cussing someone out, which is never good.
I will post a video of myself dropping the letter in the mailbox at work tomorrow, provided I can get someone to video it. My timing might be off by one day because I don't know how long it will take for the letter to get from Crown Town to J-Vegas, but we shall see. It's been almost 36 years, she can wait one more day. Crap, I ended up telling you anyway. I can't keep a secret to save my life.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Change your Lens dude.
How I wish there was a Starbucks in my neighborhood. No, actually, let's make it in my house, and on my nightstand right this second. Don't you wish you could just think something up, and it would happen? Some people say that you can. They call it the the law of reciprocity, which in essence, really means, that what you exert comes back to you. I don't know if I believe all that crap, but one thing is for certain. The people that you surround yourself with will undoubtedly change your outcomes if you let them. We will obviously have many outcomes in our lives because nothing stays the same, nothing is permanent, and life is a constant motion.
I learned this lesson the hard way in many cases, especially recently. I happen to be very trusting person, thus probably naive to the world and its many inhabitants. There are those who want to bring process improvement, who are driven by matters of the heart, who are not hesitant to help, and not thinking in terms of dollar signs, but genuinely want to help one another. And you have those who want to save the world, but who want and expect to get rich doing so, and instead of climbing the mountain with a walking stick, they climb over people instead, squashing them like ants on a sidewalk. And there are those who don't care period. They don't genuinely care about themselves, others, or anything for that matter. In their twisted mind they are "helping, " but the truth of the matter is, they are doing just the opposite. They are making matters worse. I wouldn't say that there are 3 types of people in the world because I'm not a fan of stereotyping. But I would say that people are often mislead. We are guilty of doing it, and we are victims of it.
I believe that setbacks are just lessons learned. Some happen to be more biting than others, but they are all the same whether we want to believe it or not. We should all try to constantly clean our lenses, and if you want to think in terms of the bigger picture, one could say that we all need to be viewing our setbacks as welcomed times for us to grow and learn and morph. It's all in your outlook. No problem is too big. None is worse than another. It's all relevant, and it's real, and you are always capable of fixing whatever it is that plagues you just by cleaning your lens. And while you might not be able to change the actual outcome or actually put the broken pieces back together because maybe some are missing, maybe some are cracked, you are able and capable of changing the way you let the brokeness affect you as a whole. You can choose to be aware of your surroundings or be self aware.
Now I know you are thinking, "Brooke, that's bullshit. A 4 year old daughter who has Spinibifida is not comparable to your pipes in your house being shaken up a little. A terminally ill mother of 6 young children is nowhere near the likes of a car breaking down or a missed school bus, or a computer virus that shuts down your website." And while you might be thinking that they are not related, not in the same category of pain, same lines of stress, or in comparison by any means, they are all relative, and all manageable.
How we deal with stressors in our lives that have potential to rip away layers of our very beings is most important. The way we react can often lead to our outcomes, and the people we involve ourselves with can interfere with healthy reactions regularly. This is a very sensitive topic for many people in the world today. Whiners and nay sayers will tell you over and over again that it can't be done, that there is no way, that you are naive in your thinking. And you will start believing their lies. So before you get entangled with people who don't think positively, and don't clean their lenses often, politely remove yourself from their realm. It's OK to withdraw. Your services have been rendered long enough. And some people you can never change. But you can always, always change yourself.
I have peace in my heart because I know that God is working on me and for me. You can always know that God is working in your behalf even when you don't see it. Often times you won't. And often times you will not understand your adversity. But if you embrace your adversity, you will grow in ways that you would have never thought possible especially, "in that situation." But always know that He is working on your behalf- the silent partner. I owe it to God. Without him, nothing is possible.
I learned this lesson the hard way in many cases, especially recently. I happen to be very trusting person, thus probably naive to the world and its many inhabitants. There are those who want to bring process improvement, who are driven by matters of the heart, who are not hesitant to help, and not thinking in terms of dollar signs, but genuinely want to help one another. And you have those who want to save the world, but who want and expect to get rich doing so, and instead of climbing the mountain with a walking stick, they climb over people instead, squashing them like ants on a sidewalk. And there are those who don't care period. They don't genuinely care about themselves, others, or anything for that matter. In their twisted mind they are "helping, " but the truth of the matter is, they are doing just the opposite. They are making matters worse. I wouldn't say that there are 3 types of people in the world because I'm not a fan of stereotyping. But I would say that people are often mislead. We are guilty of doing it, and we are victims of it.
I believe that setbacks are just lessons learned. Some happen to be more biting than others, but they are all the same whether we want to believe it or not. We should all try to constantly clean our lenses, and if you want to think in terms of the bigger picture, one could say that we all need to be viewing our setbacks as welcomed times for us to grow and learn and morph. It's all in your outlook. No problem is too big. None is worse than another. It's all relevant, and it's real, and you are always capable of fixing whatever it is that plagues you just by cleaning your lens. And while you might not be able to change the actual outcome or actually put the broken pieces back together because maybe some are missing, maybe some are cracked, you are able and capable of changing the way you let the brokeness affect you as a whole. You can choose to be aware of your surroundings or be self aware.
Now I know you are thinking, "Brooke, that's bullshit. A 4 year old daughter who has Spinibifida is not comparable to your pipes in your house being shaken up a little. A terminally ill mother of 6 young children is nowhere near the likes of a car breaking down or a missed school bus, or a computer virus that shuts down your website." And while you might be thinking that they are not related, not in the same category of pain, same lines of stress, or in comparison by any means, they are all relative, and all manageable.
How we deal with stressors in our lives that have potential to rip away layers of our very beings is most important. The way we react can often lead to our outcomes, and the people we involve ourselves with can interfere with healthy reactions regularly. This is a very sensitive topic for many people in the world today. Whiners and nay sayers will tell you over and over again that it can't be done, that there is no way, that you are naive in your thinking. And you will start believing their lies. So before you get entangled with people who don't think positively, and don't clean their lenses often, politely remove yourself from their realm. It's OK to withdraw. Your services have been rendered long enough. And some people you can never change. But you can always, always change yourself.
I have peace in my heart because I know that God is working on me and for me. You can always know that God is working in your behalf even when you don't see it. Often times you won't. And often times you will not understand your adversity. But if you embrace your adversity, you will grow in ways that you would have never thought possible especially, "in that situation." But always know that He is working on your behalf- the silent partner. I owe it to God. Without him, nothing is possible.
Final Thought
A couple days ago a co-worker of mine, who I consider to be a real friend, because we meet at the mind quite frequently, and our hearts seem to be in sync also, told me something that resonated in me. She said that God can't fix your heart if you don't give him all the pieces. I think that says it all for now. I love our "smoke breaks" (Neither of us smoke. Smoking is yucky.)Friday, February 17, 2012
VD is finally gone.
I unassumingly let VD (my humorous declaration of Valentine's day), pass by again, but not first without my sending cutesy cards to people I love first. In theory, I covered my bases, and did what I should have done, except one major thing. I didn't send the letter. It's still sitting in my free Columbia Management black faux leather zippered notebook that managed to end up somewhere in the middle of the heaping pile of junk mail and miscellaneous tax documents on my kitchen counter, amass all of the other random papers that should be filed away neatly in some labeled manila folder in a dusty, black fire-proof file cabinet that looks like it was born in the middle of WWII and sold at a general store somewhere in the back of the store near a bathroom.
I think I may have mentioned that because some pipe in my house has decided to have an upheaval and somehow roused all the other pipes to rebel again the rest of the house with him, my house is a wreck- more than normal. My peaceful chaos is now complete chaos, and the only real room in the house that I can find any peace is the bathroom- which I guess, in truth, is not too far from how it normally is anyway. Come to think of it, I'm not so sure why I've let this pipe and water issue rule my psyche the last few weeks, which is creeping into a month now, to think about it even further.
My toaster has come down off it's high horse atop the fridge, and is now meandering with the lowly appliances, like the broken microwave, and the clock radio. My 15 cookbooks which did nothing for me, but thin out my bank account- they were mostly impulse buys, are now scattered across counter space that normally would be reserved for the paper, and since the paper space is being used for that, the papers have made their way to the kitchen table, so the table, as of recently, has not been used for its original design. This whole thing has thrown off my life as I know it. Just one little angry pipe has caused this total disruption.
Anyone who says that life is not a byproduct of cause and effect is a fool. I think that guy with the crazy haircut and mustache was right when he laid out his theory of relativity. One doesn't have to be a scientist to discover that when one thing is broken it causes other things to be affected.
I'm not going to gripe anymore about this problem. The way I see it, and if I keep telling myself this out loud and online, I think it will finally soak in, and be true. If this is the worst problem that I have to worry about, I should be thankful. Yes, I am thankful that I was able to buy a house at at time when most others could not. I got the house that I wanted at the price that I wanted, and I have poured more money than Trump has in his ankle wallet at any given moment, into said house to make it home.
I haven't been writing much lately either, but I don't know if that is a byproduct of my current housing disarray or of laziness. I'll choose the ladder to keep it honest.
I thought about mailing a letter to my birth mother as Karen suggested for VD. But it was a fleeting thought, just being honest again. I never put any real and quantitative effort into picking out a card and looking for the handwritten, on a piece of white printer card stock, letter I wrote, than spans the front and back of the page, partially because I already knew where it was. I guess I can maintain that not all is unraveled through this temporary housing set-back. I might have to write another letter because thinking back now, it might be slightly accusatory, and against the proper rules of engagement as deemed by every adoption agency in the country and probably world. People are people no matter from which continent you find yourself breathing air. We all have hearts. We all have minds. We all hopefully have a heart mind connection and if we don't we should be locked up somewhere and labeled with a reactive attachment disorder diagnosis.
Back to the letter. I might have some free time tonight after I get home from this incredible night that I am lucky enough to embark on later today that involves lifting up teenage moms. I am very excited to learn from these young mothers. I was asked to be a mentor to one of them for the night, and possibly ongoing, I'm hoping anyway. And even though I'm supposed to be the one who is leading this young girl who I am paired up with, I have a strong feeling that I will learn more from her than I might be able to teach her. Just when you think you will be the one sharing with someone else, you find out they are sharing more with you. I have learned that lesson many times over. I am happy to be a part of something wonderful, and like I said a thousand times, and like you probably hate to read it, if you don't have a church that you are involved with and crave to go to, you need to find one. Don't let another day go by. People who love God are happy people, and people who are involved in making others happy, lead happy productive lives. We go back to the theory of relativity. Thank you Einstein for pointing out the obvious but making it more complex than DNA. We go back to my adoption. Ain't life grand?
I think I may have mentioned that because some pipe in my house has decided to have an upheaval and somehow roused all the other pipes to rebel again the rest of the house with him, my house is a wreck- more than normal. My peaceful chaos is now complete chaos, and the only real room in the house that I can find any peace is the bathroom- which I guess, in truth, is not too far from how it normally is anyway. Come to think of it, I'm not so sure why I've let this pipe and water issue rule my psyche the last few weeks, which is creeping into a month now, to think about it even further.
My toaster has come down off it's high horse atop the fridge, and is now meandering with the lowly appliances, like the broken microwave, and the clock radio. My 15 cookbooks which did nothing for me, but thin out my bank account- they were mostly impulse buys, are now scattered across counter space that normally would be reserved for the paper, and since the paper space is being used for that, the papers have made their way to the kitchen table, so the table, as of recently, has not been used for its original design. This whole thing has thrown off my life as I know it. Just one little angry pipe has caused this total disruption.
Anyone who says that life is not a byproduct of cause and effect is a fool. I think that guy with the crazy haircut and mustache was right when he laid out his theory of relativity. One doesn't have to be a scientist to discover that when one thing is broken it causes other things to be affected.
I'm not going to gripe anymore about this problem. The way I see it, and if I keep telling myself this out loud and online, I think it will finally soak in, and be true. If this is the worst problem that I have to worry about, I should be thankful. Yes, I am thankful that I was able to buy a house at at time when most others could not. I got the house that I wanted at the price that I wanted, and I have poured more money than Trump has in his ankle wallet at any given moment, into said house to make it home.
I haven't been writing much lately either, but I don't know if that is a byproduct of my current housing disarray or of laziness. I'll choose the ladder to keep it honest.
I thought about mailing a letter to my birth mother as Karen suggested for VD. But it was a fleeting thought, just being honest again. I never put any real and quantitative effort into picking out a card and looking for the handwritten, on a piece of white printer card stock, letter I wrote, than spans the front and back of the page, partially because I already knew where it was. I guess I can maintain that not all is unraveled through this temporary housing set-back. I might have to write another letter because thinking back now, it might be slightly accusatory, and against the proper rules of engagement as deemed by every adoption agency in the country and probably world. People are people no matter from which continent you find yourself breathing air. We all have hearts. We all have minds. We all hopefully have a heart mind connection and if we don't we should be locked up somewhere and labeled with a reactive attachment disorder diagnosis.
Back to the letter. I might have some free time tonight after I get home from this incredible night that I am lucky enough to embark on later today that involves lifting up teenage moms. I am very excited to learn from these young mothers. I was asked to be a mentor to one of them for the night, and possibly ongoing, I'm hoping anyway. And even though I'm supposed to be the one who is leading this young girl who I am paired up with, I have a strong feeling that I will learn more from her than I might be able to teach her. Just when you think you will be the one sharing with someone else, you find out they are sharing more with you. I have learned that lesson many times over. I am happy to be a part of something wonderful, and like I said a thousand times, and like you probably hate to read it, if you don't have a church that you are involved with and crave to go to, you need to find one. Don't let another day go by. People who love God are happy people, and people who are involved in making others happy, lead happy productive lives. We go back to the theory of relativity. Thank you Einstein for pointing out the obvious but making it more complex than DNA. We go back to my adoption. Ain't life grand?
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Writing takes a back seat
I had a fractional hiccup in my day to day routine, if you dare call anything in life routine. It's nothing that prayer and cussing can't heal. I just wanted to let you know that I am still contemplating the actual snail mail drop (of the letter). I am pretty sure that Colette knows about my knowing. The cat has been let out of the bag. I feel certain. She is probably freaking out about now, just like I was when I found out about her. It's taken me a quarter of a year to decide whether or not I even want to involve her in my life. Who's to say that she doesn't have equally amounted hesitation and some initially, I'm imagining, denial.
I need to read more on the topic. So, I just wanted to put it out there, that I am still in cold pursuit, because it's definitely not hot at this point, still in pursuit of finding some people like me in the world, people who resemble me, and are obnoxious like me. Wait, let me think about that one. I don't like obnoxious people. That's funny isn't it. I think I just realized something about myself.
I have an interesting story to divulge. It involves another reunion. For some great reason, I am constantly put in front of people who have stories to tell of reunions. Maybe God wants me to write a book about reunions. Hmmmmm....I will write it later tonight, provided I get my laptop from my house. It's an eye-opener. And who doesn't like those?
I need to read more on the topic. So, I just wanted to put it out there, that I am still in cold pursuit, because it's definitely not hot at this point, still in pursuit of finding some people like me in the world, people who resemble me, and are obnoxious like me. Wait, let me think about that one. I don't like obnoxious people. That's funny isn't it. I think I just realized something about myself.
I have an interesting story to divulge. It involves another reunion. For some great reason, I am constantly put in front of people who have stories to tell of reunions. Maybe God wants me to write a book about reunions. Hmmmmm....I will write it later tonight, provided I get my laptop from my house. It's an eye-opener. And who doesn't like those?
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Feeling Christine Caine inspired
I've been attending Elevation Church for a few years now. I can't say anything bad about it- not one thing. Each time I walk out of those double doors, Sarah trailing behind me or in tow on my hip, I can't help but feel rejuvenated. If I tried to deny it, I would be a fool. If I tried to understand why God does the things He does, I would be an idiot.
So why do I have a hard time believing He will fulfill His promises? I know that I'm the one to blame for this inadequacy in myself, and that He will always be there to protect and love me, no matter how I screw up. And believe me when I say this, I screw up a lot. I think that's fairly humanistic.
I attended the CodeOrangeRevival last night to see Christine Caine, and I was lucky enough to have been asked to sit on stage, a new thing that Pastor Steven felt would be encouraging for him and the other preachers. Some of them are traveling the globe to be here, in Charlotte, NC, and have set aside their families and churches to be able to speak the word to our church. For that, I feel very thankful, along with the other thousands of Elevators in our city and across the globe.
When I say globe, I am not embellishing. There is one pastor, in particular, who came all the way from Australia to be with us. Her name is Pastor Christine Caine. She is an inspiration to womanhood. She leads and speaks with passion and takes human rights very seriously. Having started a campaign called A21, Christine Caine is nothing shy of extraordinary, although I feel she would never admit that.
A21 is a campaign against human trafficking. There is a shelter set up in Greece as a safe haven for trafficked women that offers safety, comfort, medical attention, financial help with college studies, psychological care and a place where the victims can be restored with the love that God has for them. She took this challenge on with her faith in God, and with the knowledge that God can do anything, and to quote scripture, "through Him all things are made."
Why can't I take that thought, that all- withstanding truth, and apply it to my own life? I trust Him with my finances, for the most part anyway. He has always come through, and I have never gone without in that regard. I trust him with my health. I have had what some might call, some pretty bad scares in my life, but I have reemerged unscathed.
In fact, just last week, I had talked myself into believing that I had some kind of tumor on my cervix. I was freaking out and went to the doctor only to find that what I was feeling in that woman part of mine, was in fact my cervix. But as I was sitting in the doctor's room, very vulnerable, very unsure, very worrisome to the point of tears, I looked over to my left. And there, sitting in the magazine rack right in the very front pocket was a children's Bible. You know that Bible. It has the enlarged B for Bible, and with it's hardback blue cover, so familiar to me, I guess because I had seen it over the years at various offices of sorts, usually doctor's offices, as I recall. Its original print date was probably 1972, but the Bible doesn't have updated editions, so what real difference does it make to have one that has a more recent picture or one of a woman wearing an Afro and bell bottoms?
I picked it up and opened it to whatever page it landed on, like many of us thoughtlessly do, which I've been told is probably not the right way to read the Bible, because when we open it up and expect that we have opened it up to the page that God wants to speak to us through, we are giving ourselves the credit, when really the credit should always be given to Him.
Irregardless, the page that it happened to land on, the page that gave me comfort at a time that I needed it most, in that instance anyway, was Genesis. I think it's a fair assumption that most believers and non-believers know what story that is. It's the story of Adam and Eve. It's the story that describes the beginning of time, the creation story, and the story that forced humankind into the labors of life that we will constantly toil with. But the end of that particular story, and even still there has not been a true end to God's story, and never will be, I might add, gives birth to hope. It shows God's infinite love for us, and reminds us that even though we screw up, He will always love us. It never says we won't be punished for our actions. We will be. That's life on Earth, and maybe in Heaven, but I haven't been there yet to be able to write about it.
The point that I got lost on though, while thinking about everything that has recently transpired in my life, is that I don't truth Him enough. I don't trust that He will do what He promises. The only way that I know I will be able to do that, is by exalting Him, and through surrender. No one more than me hates the idea of surrender. Surrender? I'm not doing that. That means I have to give up? No way. I am all in, all the time. I refuse to say that I lost, another common denominator of humans. We are fighters. We are finishers. We are competitive by nature, even those of us who falsely, yet profusely proclaim that we aren't.
I need to try to learn that in His time, my life will come together. And the thing is, humans created time, not God. We put a ticker on everything, like Pastor Christine said last night. I stand guilty as charged.
We think that we are the deciders of fate. How presumptuous of us, how inflated, how inequitable.
This is where I start to stumble. If we are to wait on God, to let Him lead our lives, then how can I be proactive? I've always been told by my Mom that God helps those who help themselves. So how am I to know when I am not helping myself?
Is being on Match.com against the rules? Should I be patiently waiting on God to bring me a man instead of putting my antennae out there? I struggle with that sometimes. I want to have a man in my life that loves me, that I can love, but more importantly who loves God just as much as me, if not more. I haven't had any luck thus far. It's been about 5 months, and I'm about to cash in on their 6 month guarantee. You watch.
I believe that He is working on me still. He knows that I'm not at a point in my life that I can fully give someone else the love they need, and I am not fully capable to receive it. Some might think they are, and they stay in these destructive relationships for years, ignoring the obvious because they are too afraid to be alone. They don't want to start over. It's pretty scary to start over for most people, me included. I stayed in a loveless relationship for 6 years of my life. Then went on to another for another 3 years. For what? All because I was too afraid that my heart might hurt a little? My schedule might change? My child will miss him? There's a common excuse for many people. But the fact about that is this. Kids are resilient, much more than adults are. They forget quicker, and they don't understand the ramifications of a break-up because they don't know what true love is. So using that as an excuse is lame. Sorry to say it. The effects of staying in an unloving relationship until your kids grow up and are able to understand what true love is, is far more damaging and will require much more psychological attention in the long run.
I was concerned that my circle of friends would be broken, and it was. I was worried that I wouldn't do the same unGodly things that I did, you know what I'm talking about here, and I didn't. Let's be honest here. It's not sex that we crave. It's love. It's someone who cares about your well being. It's knowing that someone is there for you when you fall on your face. It's having someone help you brush yourself off and boost you up when you are too timid to try again. I crave that. I don't crave sex, and God tells us that sex before marriage is not the way. He doesn't say that there won't be incredible temptation. He doesn't say that it doesn't feel good. It does; we all know it does.
I'm trying to help myself trust Him more with everything in my being. Sex is something that, like most people, married and single, I like. And knowing that He doesn't want me to do it before I get married makes it even harder to do it. It makes it unpleasant even, when normally it would be great. I'm not speaking of anything recent here, just saying that since I have really started injecting God's word into my life, I have been a changed woman. I make better decisions. I think more logically. And I trust Him certainly more than I ever did. As soon as I can fully surrender to Him, I will be in much better shape though. I'm looking to make myself better, and in the process help a few others make themselves better.
Thanks for reading my blog. I appreciate every one's active interest in what little ole Brooke has to say.
So why do I have a hard time believing He will fulfill His promises? I know that I'm the one to blame for this inadequacy in myself, and that He will always be there to protect and love me, no matter how I screw up. And believe me when I say this, I screw up a lot. I think that's fairly humanistic.
I attended the CodeOrangeRevival last night to see Christine Caine, and I was lucky enough to have been asked to sit on stage, a new thing that Pastor Steven felt would be encouraging for him and the other preachers. Some of them are traveling the globe to be here, in Charlotte, NC, and have set aside their families and churches to be able to speak the word to our church. For that, I feel very thankful, along with the other thousands of Elevators in our city and across the globe.
When I say globe, I am not embellishing. There is one pastor, in particular, who came all the way from Australia to be with us. Her name is Pastor Christine Caine. She is an inspiration to womanhood. She leads and speaks with passion and takes human rights very seriously. Having started a campaign called A21, Christine Caine is nothing shy of extraordinary, although I feel she would never admit that.
A21 is a campaign against human trafficking. There is a shelter set up in Greece as a safe haven for trafficked women that offers safety, comfort, medical attention, financial help with college studies, psychological care and a place where the victims can be restored with the love that God has for them. She took this challenge on with her faith in God, and with the knowledge that God can do anything, and to quote scripture, "through Him all things are made."
Why can't I take that thought, that all- withstanding truth, and apply it to my own life? I trust Him with my finances, for the most part anyway. He has always come through, and I have never gone without in that regard. I trust him with my health. I have had what some might call, some pretty bad scares in my life, but I have reemerged unscathed.
In fact, just last week, I had talked myself into believing that I had some kind of tumor on my cervix. I was freaking out and went to the doctor only to find that what I was feeling in that woman part of mine, was in fact my cervix. But as I was sitting in the doctor's room, very vulnerable, very unsure, very worrisome to the point of tears, I looked over to my left. And there, sitting in the magazine rack right in the very front pocket was a children's Bible. You know that Bible. It has the enlarged B for Bible, and with it's hardback blue cover, so familiar to me, I guess because I had seen it over the years at various offices of sorts, usually doctor's offices, as I recall. Its original print date was probably 1972, but the Bible doesn't have updated editions, so what real difference does it make to have one that has a more recent picture or one of a woman wearing an Afro and bell bottoms?
I picked it up and opened it to whatever page it landed on, like many of us thoughtlessly do, which I've been told is probably not the right way to read the Bible, because when we open it up and expect that we have opened it up to the page that God wants to speak to us through, we are giving ourselves the credit, when really the credit should always be given to Him.
Irregardless, the page that it happened to land on, the page that gave me comfort at a time that I needed it most, in that instance anyway, was Genesis. I think it's a fair assumption that most believers and non-believers know what story that is. It's the story of Adam and Eve. It's the story that describes the beginning of time, the creation story, and the story that forced humankind into the labors of life that we will constantly toil with. But the end of that particular story, and even still there has not been a true end to God's story, and never will be, I might add, gives birth to hope. It shows God's infinite love for us, and reminds us that even though we screw up, He will always love us. It never says we won't be punished for our actions. We will be. That's life on Earth, and maybe in Heaven, but I haven't been there yet to be able to write about it.
The point that I got lost on though, while thinking about everything that has recently transpired in my life, is that I don't truth Him enough. I don't trust that He will do what He promises. The only way that I know I will be able to do that, is by exalting Him, and through surrender. No one more than me hates the idea of surrender. Surrender? I'm not doing that. That means I have to give up? No way. I am all in, all the time. I refuse to say that I lost, another common denominator of humans. We are fighters. We are finishers. We are competitive by nature, even those of us who falsely, yet profusely proclaim that we aren't.
I need to try to learn that in His time, my life will come together. And the thing is, humans created time, not God. We put a ticker on everything, like Pastor Christine said last night. I stand guilty as charged.
We think that we are the deciders of fate. How presumptuous of us, how inflated, how inequitable.
This is where I start to stumble. If we are to wait on God, to let Him lead our lives, then how can I be proactive? I've always been told by my Mom that God helps those who help themselves. So how am I to know when I am not helping myself?
Is being on Match.com against the rules? Should I be patiently waiting on God to bring me a man instead of putting my antennae out there? I struggle with that sometimes. I want to have a man in my life that loves me, that I can love, but more importantly who loves God just as much as me, if not more. I haven't had any luck thus far. It's been about 5 months, and I'm about to cash in on their 6 month guarantee. You watch.
I believe that He is working on me still. He knows that I'm not at a point in my life that I can fully give someone else the love they need, and I am not fully capable to receive it. Some might think they are, and they stay in these destructive relationships for years, ignoring the obvious because they are too afraid to be alone. They don't want to start over. It's pretty scary to start over for most people, me included. I stayed in a loveless relationship for 6 years of my life. Then went on to another for another 3 years. For what? All because I was too afraid that my heart might hurt a little? My schedule might change? My child will miss him? There's a common excuse for many people. But the fact about that is this. Kids are resilient, much more than adults are. They forget quicker, and they don't understand the ramifications of a break-up because they don't know what true love is. So using that as an excuse is lame. Sorry to say it. The effects of staying in an unloving relationship until your kids grow up and are able to understand what true love is, is far more damaging and will require much more psychological attention in the long run.
I was concerned that my circle of friends would be broken, and it was. I was worried that I wouldn't do the same unGodly things that I did, you know what I'm talking about here, and I didn't. Let's be honest here. It's not sex that we crave. It's love. It's someone who cares about your well being. It's knowing that someone is there for you when you fall on your face. It's having someone help you brush yourself off and boost you up when you are too timid to try again. I crave that. I don't crave sex, and God tells us that sex before marriage is not the way. He doesn't say that there won't be incredible temptation. He doesn't say that it doesn't feel good. It does; we all know it does.
I'm trying to help myself trust Him more with everything in my being. Sex is something that, like most people, married and single, I like. And knowing that He doesn't want me to do it before I get married makes it even harder to do it. It makes it unpleasant even, when normally it would be great. I'm not speaking of anything recent here, just saying that since I have really started injecting God's word into my life, I have been a changed woman. I make better decisions. I think more logically. And I trust Him certainly more than I ever did. As soon as I can fully surrender to Him, I will be in much better shape though. I'm looking to make myself better, and in the process help a few others make themselves better.
Thanks for reading my blog. I appreciate every one's active interest in what little ole Brooke has to say.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Christmas Eve and it dawned on me
So, 2012 is marching quickly upon us. I'm wondering what this even numbered year will present for me, for the country, for my family. I'm hoping that my visions of death in a car will be squashed, that my small group will have more direction, that I can be a leader, and lead by example.
I hope that I can be more understanding of my friends situations, who are in what I call ridiculous relationships with boys who ultimately suck, and by suck, I mean suck the life out of my friends. I hope that I can say the right things at the right times, and avoid touchy subjects at inopportune times.
With these hopes, I also ask that my friends can be more choosy, that they can each realize that they are worth more than they currently project.
I ask for a better relationship with my mother, and a bigger set of balls than I've ever had, not to proudly display, but to modestly back up my good intentions.
For 2012, I wish that Sarah gets into a good school, and can be a leader, and when the time is right, she will follow the right people and make the right choices.
It's not the amount of pictures that we took in 2011 that sums up what effectively marks the close of a year, nor the parties we attended in the month of December in celebration of Christmas or Hanukkah, or whatever it is that you give praise to. It's not the amount of friends you may have or not have on Facebook that represent us.
At the end of the day, at the end of the year, it's not what we thought was important that actually was. It wasn't the amount of money that we lost in a risky stock market trade that your friend promised was the goldmine, but really turned out to be the black hole. And it isn't that stunning diamond ring your honey surprised you with, when he got down on the very same knee that he broke playing ice hockey in 7th grade, when the new orthopeadist said he might have a slight limp, but thankfully, he didn't. It's the love that fuels us to do nice things for eachother. It's not the gifts. It's not the wrappings. It's the motive and the love.
As, I'm sitting here surrounded by beautiful packages, decorations that shine, lights that twinkle and music that is somehow not irritating still even though it has permeated every public arena and radio wave for the last month straight, relentlessly, I'm sitting here thinking that these small things are a culmination of what is to come.
These are the little details that God wants us to find solace in. These simple ways we find peace are just one more way that God shows His love for us.
I've always known, as most people probably have, those who believe in a greater being, be it Christian or otherwise, I've always known that God presents himself in the little things. That's what keeps us coming back. I can't speak for everyone, clearly, but the bells and whistles, the lights on Broadway, the cool breezes on a scorching summer day when you're impatiently waiting in line at the farmer's market, and the gramma in front of you wants to debate the price of a bag of tomatoes, the random twenty you found in your front jeans pocket when you needed to pay for parking and you had no cash in your thin little wallet- it's those things that keep us reeling.
I hear people say all the time, "I hate all the hustle and bustle of Christmas. It's not about spending a grip of cash you don't even have to spend." I may be guilty of saying it myself. I think it could be argued that we have all felt that way at least once or twice during the Christmas season.
But I realized tonight, that even though we may spend money we don't have, and we run around, fighting over parking spaces, burning up perfectly good food in our kitchens because that neighbor decided that she wanted to make a cake, and was missing the not 1, not 2, not even 3 eggs that a good cake recipe calls for, but 4 eggs, and realized that she was too lazy to go to the store, but not lazy enough to take on the rum cake, and she wouldn't leave your front porch because yelping about the other neighbor had somehow become the number one priority- in front of the cake, it's for a reason. We do these things, these out-of-our-wayisms, these seemingly never endingisms so that we can make others happy. That is the richness of life. That's what God intended for us.
He wants us to celebrate how much He loves us, by showing others how much we can love each other. And what a better time of the year than Jesus's birthday?
Praise God.
I wish that we could all take a moment to realize that all this stress and busyness is not all in vain. We do these things to make others happy. And that's the fat of life. That's what He wants.
Next time you are doing something for someone else that you really don't want to do, begrudgingly, try changing your attitude. Take the role of servant. Do it with JOY in your heart. The true blessing is that you are now BOTH the giver and the receiver. You are now receiving the other person's burden. And you are giving out a break to someone else. Don't we all need a break?
Praise be to God. Merry Christmas everyone.
I hope that I can be more understanding of my friends situations, who are in what I call ridiculous relationships with boys who ultimately suck, and by suck, I mean suck the life out of my friends. I hope that I can say the right things at the right times, and avoid touchy subjects at inopportune times.
With these hopes, I also ask that my friends can be more choosy, that they can each realize that they are worth more than they currently project.
I ask for a better relationship with my mother, and a bigger set of balls than I've ever had, not to proudly display, but to modestly back up my good intentions.
For 2012, I wish that Sarah gets into a good school, and can be a leader, and when the time is right, she will follow the right people and make the right choices.
It's not the amount of pictures that we took in 2011 that sums up what effectively marks the close of a year, nor the parties we attended in the month of December in celebration of Christmas or Hanukkah, or whatever it is that you give praise to. It's not the amount of friends you may have or not have on Facebook that represent us.
At the end of the day, at the end of the year, it's not what we thought was important that actually was. It wasn't the amount of money that we lost in a risky stock market trade that your friend promised was the goldmine, but really turned out to be the black hole. And it isn't that stunning diamond ring your honey surprised you with, when he got down on the very same knee that he broke playing ice hockey in 7th grade, when the new orthopeadist said he might have a slight limp, but thankfully, he didn't. It's the love that fuels us to do nice things for eachother. It's not the gifts. It's not the wrappings. It's the motive and the love.
As, I'm sitting here surrounded by beautiful packages, decorations that shine, lights that twinkle and music that is somehow not irritating still even though it has permeated every public arena and radio wave for the last month straight, relentlessly, I'm sitting here thinking that these small things are a culmination of what is to come.
These are the little details that God wants us to find solace in. These simple ways we find peace are just one more way that God shows His love for us.
I've always known, as most people probably have, those who believe in a greater being, be it Christian or otherwise, I've always known that God presents himself in the little things. That's what keeps us coming back. I can't speak for everyone, clearly, but the bells and whistles, the lights on Broadway, the cool breezes on a scorching summer day when you're impatiently waiting in line at the farmer's market, and the gramma in front of you wants to debate the price of a bag of tomatoes, the random twenty you found in your front jeans pocket when you needed to pay for parking and you had no cash in your thin little wallet- it's those things that keep us reeling.
I hear people say all the time, "I hate all the hustle and bustle of Christmas. It's not about spending a grip of cash you don't even have to spend." I may be guilty of saying it myself. I think it could be argued that we have all felt that way at least once or twice during the Christmas season.
But I realized tonight, that even though we may spend money we don't have, and we run around, fighting over parking spaces, burning up perfectly good food in our kitchens because that neighbor decided that she wanted to make a cake, and was missing the not 1, not 2, not even 3 eggs that a good cake recipe calls for, but 4 eggs, and realized that she was too lazy to go to the store, but not lazy enough to take on the rum cake, and she wouldn't leave your front porch because yelping about the other neighbor had somehow become the number one priority- in front of the cake, it's for a reason. We do these things, these out-of-our-wayisms, these seemingly never endingisms so that we can make others happy. That is the richness of life. That's what God intended for us.
He wants us to celebrate how much He loves us, by showing others how much we can love each other. And what a better time of the year than Jesus's birthday?
Praise God.
I wish that we could all take a moment to realize that all this stress and busyness is not all in vain. We do these things to make others happy. And that's the fat of life. That's what He wants.
Next time you are doing something for someone else that you really don't want to do, begrudgingly, try changing your attitude. Take the role of servant. Do it with JOY in your heart. The true blessing is that you are now BOTH the giver and the receiver. You are now receiving the other person's burden. And you are giving out a break to someone else. Don't we all need a break?
Praise be to God. Merry Christmas everyone.
Monday, December 19, 2011
And again, I will forgive the jerk
A particularly rough day is deserving of a little self loathing, a healthy dose of denial, and a heaping mound of forgiveness, but not before an even deeper sea of questions float around in my brain. I'm obviously speaking from personal experience here, and riding on the dirtiest of coattails that were probably worn by some grey, curly wig wearing, black cloaked, pinky lifted, teensy glasses wearing man from the sixteenth century, who overly anunciated his words, and only spoke with the Queen's English.
I feel like I have to explain my actions, to justify the beginning that for the most part, and unfortunately so, has often ended ugly.
Another try for Paul, has again ended in sorrow. Another chance to redeem himself, lost in translation, clouded mostly by his uncontrolled alcohol consumption, a genetic tragedy that he needs to take care of or it will most assuredly steal his life.
I TRY not to judge people for having addictions. Unless, there is a child involved, and in my case there is, since Paul is my daughter's father. Ouch. I think I just contradicted myself. Ok. I'm human. I don't fault anyone for having an addiction if they truly have remorse for their actions. There, that makes more sense.
I know, that it could just as easily be me on the other end of the stick. I could be that girl sticking a needle in between my toes, smoking a glass dick in the school bathroom, sniffing a bump of coke from a key in the car during lunch. I could be that person.
I try not to do things that I know could have me by the balls because I know my personality. I'm the fun one, the trouble maker, risky and wild. It could just as easily be me who gets caught up. I know, because I've been caught up before.
Regardless, it makes it easier for me to forgive Paul when he's drunk, and being obnoxious, when he says things about my deceased brother, when he makes desparaging comments about my Mom for no good reason, and somehow, rediculously extracting bits and pieces of untamed arguments from something that I have done.
He comes in and out. Mostly out, but when he is around, I never withhold his love for Sarah. Most people around me don't get that. They think I must be co-dependent. No. I'm not. I know who I am. I know what I stand for. I know when it's time to say, "No."
Sometimes I wonder if it's me that never learns when it comes to matters of the heart- never giving up on people, which can result in being let down by the same person over and over in similar situations. I don't know if I ever want to learn. To know is to be jaded. I think I'll stay just as I am.
I'm left in a moral dilleama, never fully sure if I'm being naive, or just being nice, forgiving to a fault. I seem to find myself in these same predicaments with the same people repeatedly. I know you're thinking, why in the world doesn't she learn from her mistakes? People are people. They don't change.
That is not true.
We all change. We have different seasons of our lives that enable us to move in different directions. Some people don't want to change their ways. That's unfortunate. They guard themselves. They build walls.
I guess I just think everyone needs a get out of jail free card. Some of us more than others, but nevertheless, we are all guilty of making mistakes. We all do things we regret, we're sorry for later, and we sometimes wish we could take back. The sad truth is that we can't. But what we can do, is being cogniscent of eachother.
We can be forgiving. We can start over and over and over. Yeah, it will hurt sometimes. Yeah, it migh rip a few protective barriers, but it's the least we can do for one another.
I will probably give Sarah's father try after try, chance after chance to prove himself, to make good of his screw ups. I will not give him full access to my heart, but I will leave the key under the mat for him now and then. I will let him love Sarah and let him back in her life when he begs and barters, and brings over an insane amount of precut Christmas cookies that fill up my fridge. He can make an excuse as to why he hasn't paid any child support. He can say the check is in the mail, that he has another job offer, that is probably in truth, non-existant.
I will never be physically attracted to him again in any form or fashion romantically or otherwise, but I will recognize that under that rough, unshaven, occasionally dirty exterior, there is a soft soul dying to be fed and loved. Somehow people don't get that. I have had to explain on more than a few occasions that there is no romantic attraction any longer on my end. None. Honestly, I don't recall there ever being any. I'm sorry to even put those thoughts to words, and embarassed a little too.
I will forgive Paul. I will do this because I know there have been times in my life that I needed another chance. There have been times in my life I didn't deserve another chance- things I did to my parents that weren't worthy of forgiveness.
That's unconditional love, and correct me if I'm wrong, but God commands it.
I will probably be hurt more, probably be let down, but not before a fighting chance has been offered first.
Very few people in this world understand what true forgiveness is, and even fewer people practice it in their daily lives, and can honestly say they forgive, and without holding a slight grudge.
Maybe that's why I stay happy. I don't know if there's a direct coorelation. But I know that if I walk around hating people I will not be happy.
So, I will give hundreds of chances to people who probably don't deserve them. I will be hurt many more times, but at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I can forgive. And that makes me a stronger person.
If you don't understand that, maybe you should try to forgive someone today that you never thought you could. And I will again, forgive Paul for acting like a total ass tonight.
I feel like I have to explain my actions, to justify the beginning that for the most part, and unfortunately so, has often ended ugly.
Another try for Paul, has again ended in sorrow. Another chance to redeem himself, lost in translation, clouded mostly by his uncontrolled alcohol consumption, a genetic tragedy that he needs to take care of or it will most assuredly steal his life.
I TRY not to judge people for having addictions. Unless, there is a child involved, and in my case there is, since Paul is my daughter's father. Ouch. I think I just contradicted myself. Ok. I'm human. I don't fault anyone for having an addiction if they truly have remorse for their actions. There, that makes more sense.
I know, that it could just as easily be me on the other end of the stick. I could be that girl sticking a needle in between my toes, smoking a glass dick in the school bathroom, sniffing a bump of coke from a key in the car during lunch. I could be that person.
I try not to do things that I know could have me by the balls because I know my personality. I'm the fun one, the trouble maker, risky and wild. It could just as easily be me who gets caught up. I know, because I've been caught up before.
Regardless, it makes it easier for me to forgive Paul when he's drunk, and being obnoxious, when he says things about my deceased brother, when he makes desparaging comments about my Mom for no good reason, and somehow, rediculously extracting bits and pieces of untamed arguments from something that I have done.
He comes in and out. Mostly out, but when he is around, I never withhold his love for Sarah. Most people around me don't get that. They think I must be co-dependent. No. I'm not. I know who I am. I know what I stand for. I know when it's time to say, "No."
Sometimes I wonder if it's me that never learns when it comes to matters of the heart- never giving up on people, which can result in being let down by the same person over and over in similar situations. I don't know if I ever want to learn. To know is to be jaded. I think I'll stay just as I am.
I'm left in a moral dilleama, never fully sure if I'm being naive, or just being nice, forgiving to a fault. I seem to find myself in these same predicaments with the same people repeatedly. I know you're thinking, why in the world doesn't she learn from her mistakes? People are people. They don't change.
That is not true.
We all change. We have different seasons of our lives that enable us to move in different directions. Some people don't want to change their ways. That's unfortunate. They guard themselves. They build walls.
I guess I just think everyone needs a get out of jail free card. Some of us more than others, but nevertheless, we are all guilty of making mistakes. We all do things we regret, we're sorry for later, and we sometimes wish we could take back. The sad truth is that we can't. But what we can do, is being cogniscent of eachother.
We can be forgiving. We can start over and over and over. Yeah, it will hurt sometimes. Yeah, it migh rip a few protective barriers, but it's the least we can do for one another.
I will probably give Sarah's father try after try, chance after chance to prove himself, to make good of his screw ups. I will not give him full access to my heart, but I will leave the key under the mat for him now and then. I will let him love Sarah and let him back in her life when he begs and barters, and brings over an insane amount of precut Christmas cookies that fill up my fridge. He can make an excuse as to why he hasn't paid any child support. He can say the check is in the mail, that he has another job offer, that is probably in truth, non-existant.
I will never be physically attracted to him again in any form or fashion romantically or otherwise, but I will recognize that under that rough, unshaven, occasionally dirty exterior, there is a soft soul dying to be fed and loved. Somehow people don't get that. I have had to explain on more than a few occasions that there is no romantic attraction any longer on my end. None. Honestly, I don't recall there ever being any. I'm sorry to even put those thoughts to words, and embarassed a little too.
I will forgive Paul. I will do this because I know there have been times in my life that I needed another chance. There have been times in my life I didn't deserve another chance- things I did to my parents that weren't worthy of forgiveness.
That's unconditional love, and correct me if I'm wrong, but God commands it.
I will probably be hurt more, probably be let down, but not before a fighting chance has been offered first.
Very few people in this world understand what true forgiveness is, and even fewer people practice it in their daily lives, and can honestly say they forgive, and without holding a slight grudge.
Maybe that's why I stay happy. I don't know if there's a direct coorelation. But I know that if I walk around hating people I will not be happy.
So, I will give hundreds of chances to people who probably don't deserve them. I will be hurt many more times, but at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I can forgive. And that makes me a stronger person.
If you don't understand that, maybe you should try to forgive someone today that you never thought you could. And I will again, forgive Paul for acting like a total ass tonight.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Sometimes I have these great ideas of things to write about, and I even go as far as writing them down on a scrap piece of paper, and guess what happens. Yes, I lose that little piece of ripped off paper. In fact, I can't even remember where I was when I tore it off of that unsuspecting, lonely piece of unwanted paper. Back to square one.
Today at church there I was, sitting with close friends, my friend, and her awesome son, who's 12, backed into a corner, which I don't mind because I can be found crying on occasion when I'm there.
That, I can't explain. Some people laugh when they're uncomfortable. Some people talk too much when they don't know what to say, which is the exact opposite of what should happen in my opinion, but I am not the authority on all things right. Thank God, you're thinking.
I cry at church, and when I am happy. I cry at weddings probably more than I have cried at funerals. Commercials with hungry children and sad, abused puppies and kittens make me cry, some Hallmark commercials too. I wish I could appropriately describe what it is that pulls at my heart strings, so sometimes I could avoid it. Don't we all want to escape from feeling at times?
I would just like to go one day without having some form of extreme feeling. I can hear one of my bosses now, "Brooke, you're a woman. Your mood will change like you change your underwear, that is, if you change them once a day in the trailor park."
We joke a lot about my being from North Carolina. Somehow, he forgets that he is too. You know that addage that is played out, but still funny, "you can take the boy out of the country but you can't take the country out of the boy." If you really want to be redneck, you can take the of's out of that statement.
At times I would just like to be a plain white sheet of paper- no lines, no random red dots, no spaces to be skipped on occasion. I just want to be a plain white sheet draped over a beautiful, but never before revealed to the public, awaiting at auction, Picasso, that some rich, and wanton person of the male species would buy at his own discretion probably without first consulting his wife.
I want to be someone else sometimes, not all the time, but occasionally I would just like to not care. I would like to be devoid of thinking about other people and hearing everyone's problems. I would like to leave work at work, and would like to be greedy. I would like to disassociate, to avoid others, to be cold, to not care. It would be so much easier.
I am thankful that I am not that way, but it would be so easy.
Life shouldn't be a breeze should it? We are put here to learn, to morph, to grow, and inspire others to do that. At least that's my take of life. At least that's why I am here. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that God wants me to show leadership in generosity. How do I know, you wonder?
Because he told me many times. He let me know what I need to do.
He lets us all know. We don't all listen.
The price we pay for not listening is much higher than the price we pay for obeying, for some, the price tag is just too high. But I'm here to say that it's not.
And listen here, I'm no saint by any means. I make a million mistakes. I can't take credit for much, I'll admit. But I try to obey when it comes to my finances. And I have never gone hungry. I may have wondered where the money will come from on occasion, but it always ends up working out.
I'm not telling you this because I want credit, but I am saying this because I know there are people who read my blog who are generous as well.
I know there are people here who could be more giving, and are scared to trust Him with your finances. I'm telling you as an encouragement to do it for yourself. I want you to see how easy it is to trust God when he says he's going to come through. And He always comes through.
We don't though.
This was not at all what I had intended on writing about today. It's funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
Today at church there I was, sitting with close friends, my friend, and her awesome son, who's 12, backed into a corner, which I don't mind because I can be found crying on occasion when I'm there.
That, I can't explain. Some people laugh when they're uncomfortable. Some people talk too much when they don't know what to say, which is the exact opposite of what should happen in my opinion, but I am not the authority on all things right. Thank God, you're thinking.
I cry at church, and when I am happy. I cry at weddings probably more than I have cried at funerals. Commercials with hungry children and sad, abused puppies and kittens make me cry, some Hallmark commercials too. I wish I could appropriately describe what it is that pulls at my heart strings, so sometimes I could avoid it. Don't we all want to escape from feeling at times?
I would just like to go one day without having some form of extreme feeling. I can hear one of my bosses now, "Brooke, you're a woman. Your mood will change like you change your underwear, that is, if you change them once a day in the trailor park."
We joke a lot about my being from North Carolina. Somehow, he forgets that he is too. You know that addage that is played out, but still funny, "you can take the boy out of the country but you can't take the country out of the boy." If you really want to be redneck, you can take the of's out of that statement.
At times I would just like to be a plain white sheet of paper- no lines, no random red dots, no spaces to be skipped on occasion. I just want to be a plain white sheet draped over a beautiful, but never before revealed to the public, awaiting at auction, Picasso, that some rich, and wanton person of the male species would buy at his own discretion probably without first consulting his wife.
I want to be someone else sometimes, not all the time, but occasionally I would just like to not care. I would like to be devoid of thinking about other people and hearing everyone's problems. I would like to leave work at work, and would like to be greedy. I would like to disassociate, to avoid others, to be cold, to not care. It would be so much easier.
I am thankful that I am not that way, but it would be so easy.
Life shouldn't be a breeze should it? We are put here to learn, to morph, to grow, and inspire others to do that. At least that's my take of life. At least that's why I am here. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that God wants me to show leadership in generosity. How do I know, you wonder?
Because he told me many times. He let me know what I need to do.
He lets us all know. We don't all listen.
The price we pay for not listening is much higher than the price we pay for obeying, for some, the price tag is just too high. But I'm here to say that it's not.
And listen here, I'm no saint by any means. I make a million mistakes. I can't take credit for much, I'll admit. But I try to obey when it comes to my finances. And I have never gone hungry. I may have wondered where the money will come from on occasion, but it always ends up working out.
I'm not telling you this because I want credit, but I am saying this because I know there are people who read my blog who are generous as well.
I know there are people here who could be more giving, and are scared to trust Him with your finances. I'm telling you as an encouragement to do it for yourself. I want you to see how easy it is to trust God when he says he's going to come through. And He always comes through.
We don't though.
This was not at all what I had intended on writing about today. It's funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
Thursday, December 8, 2011
secrets? I have none.
I always wonder what kind of impact I will make on the world. Doesn't everyone?
Do we not all wonder what we'll turn out as, some of us secretively, some of us blatantly obviously, and for some of us, it's hard to believe that we even think of others even while we're sitting on the toilet and have nothing else to think about.
It's never my intention to make my name known, but it is on the contrary, to share ideas and I'll admit, maybe to show to people that I have known at some point in my life, that I have changed. I am not who I once was.
I hope you aren't either, unless you were a saint.
Life is journey, and you can't truly grow unless you learn from your mistakes and use them as stepping stones. I accidentally typed stoners.
That was funny and quirky.
That is the richness of life- the quirky moments, the small things, the times where you think no one notices you, and they do.
I hate to sound preachy, arbitrary even, but I mean it when I say that life is rich- even when rain is predicted. It's full when we see empty. It's beauty in the mire. We fail to see the simple abundance of goodness when we are surrounded with it because we find ourselves consumed with earthly desires.
We think we all need to be rich, to be heard, to be known, to be understood by all. Truthfully, and by God, we all won't achieve that, and realistically, we won't understand why. But as soon as we can understand that the small things are what make up life, we will begin to reap the benefits of a deeper understanding. You don't have to be rich and famous to impact the world.
The impact of goodness doesn't have a number attached to it. It's not quantitative. Thank God it's not.
My Mom asked me the other day as I was walking up the stairs at her house, and at such a perfectly appropriate time, if I didn't feel that writing a blog for everyone to see (those few who take active interest), was exploitative (not her word), even invasive of my privacy. I'm sure it wasn't my privacy that she was most concerned about.
So, with respect for her, I'll not speak of her unless something really juicy happens from now on.
I don't want to put a strain on our relationship.
But here's the deal: I enjoy the ability to be frank in writing. It's such a release. I honestly think everyone in the world should find their voice through writing.
Most people can't speak out loud. They refrain from confronting situations that propose honesty in its purest form.
We all are guilty of it.
We won't talk about what happens in the virtual world.
We use computers and computer programs to hide and to make avatars of who we would really like to be.
In fact, I believe, and I spoke with a long time friend about this just yesterday, that we don't even choose communication anymore.
We choose to text instead of talk. We choose to email instead of calling. We choose to evite instead of taking the time to buy stamps.
We are constantly taking short cuts. Why?
How have we gotten so far removed from others that we take short cuts in our personal lives? We don't have relationships anymore. We barely even see each other face to face. We hide in our little "me bubbles", and I hate that.
My mom rarely talks to anyone outside of her bubble. And that's OK for her. It's what some people do. It's normal.
I don't want to be normal.
I don't want to be in the bubble. I would give anything to have my mom's open mindedness, her understanding, her wisdom. One day I will. What price will I have to pay to get it, I wonder? That's unimportant.
What it's like to have those qualities...that's what I'm after.
I am not at that point yet in my life where I can be comfortable with who I am without making a statement. It's who I am right now. It's probably what I will be for a while. I was born to be that person. The loud one. The constant advocate. The debater.
But when it all comes down to the nitty gritty, I'm about everyone else. It's not about me. It's about you.
It's about what you stand for, and how I can help you. You should see the trails of thoughts inside my brain, riding the waves like it's the hundred year storm and you are Bodhi in Australia and Keanu Reeves is waiting to lock you wrists together at the shore.
Mom, if I write about you, please don't be upset with me. That's all I can really say because I write about what I am about. And if you are a part of my life, you can most likely assume that you will be in some story that I will write. That goes for everyone.
Sarah, my four year old, has told me on a few occasions that I embarrass her. I told her to get used to it. That's mean isn't it?
No, I told her this: Sarah, the things that are important for you are important to me. And the things that are important to me, are important to my family, and the things that are important to my friends are important to their family, and that's how the world goes around. Whether you want to admit it or not, people care. Get used to it. I care. I love you, or I wouldn't tell anyone the funny little things you say.
Her response: Mom, let's just keep some things a secret.
What can I say to that but, "I love you, and you're awesome. Don't let anyone EVER tell you different. I know, and I'm your mom."
That is exactly what I said.
That was what I meant.
I am so psyched about Christmas. Yaaaaaay! It's the world's chance to be what God intended us to be- in unison.
Are you excited for the right reasons? Are you going to stop not believing?
Do we not all wonder what we'll turn out as, some of us secretively, some of us blatantly obviously, and for some of us, it's hard to believe that we even think of others even while we're sitting on the toilet and have nothing else to think about.
It's never my intention to make my name known, but it is on the contrary, to share ideas and I'll admit, maybe to show to people that I have known at some point in my life, that I have changed. I am not who I once was.
I hope you aren't either, unless you were a saint.
Life is journey, and you can't truly grow unless you learn from your mistakes and use them as stepping stones. I accidentally typed stoners.
That was funny and quirky.
That is the richness of life- the quirky moments, the small things, the times where you think no one notices you, and they do.
I hate to sound preachy, arbitrary even, but I mean it when I say that life is rich- even when rain is predicted. It's full when we see empty. It's beauty in the mire. We fail to see the simple abundance of goodness when we are surrounded with it because we find ourselves consumed with earthly desires.
We think we all need to be rich, to be heard, to be known, to be understood by all. Truthfully, and by God, we all won't achieve that, and realistically, we won't understand why. But as soon as we can understand that the small things are what make up life, we will begin to reap the benefits of a deeper understanding. You don't have to be rich and famous to impact the world.
The impact of goodness doesn't have a number attached to it. It's not quantitative. Thank God it's not.
My Mom asked me the other day as I was walking up the stairs at her house, and at such a perfectly appropriate time, if I didn't feel that writing a blog for everyone to see (those few who take active interest), was exploitative (not her word), even invasive of my privacy. I'm sure it wasn't my privacy that she was most concerned about.
So, with respect for her, I'll not speak of her unless something really juicy happens from now on.
I don't want to put a strain on our relationship.
But here's the deal: I enjoy the ability to be frank in writing. It's such a release. I honestly think everyone in the world should find their voice through writing.
Most people can't speak out loud. They refrain from confronting situations that propose honesty in its purest form.
We all are guilty of it.
We won't talk about what happens in the virtual world.
We use computers and computer programs to hide and to make avatars of who we would really like to be.
In fact, I believe, and I spoke with a long time friend about this just yesterday, that we don't even choose communication anymore.
We choose to text instead of talk. We choose to email instead of calling. We choose to evite instead of taking the time to buy stamps.
We are constantly taking short cuts. Why?
How have we gotten so far removed from others that we take short cuts in our personal lives? We don't have relationships anymore. We barely even see each other face to face. We hide in our little "me bubbles", and I hate that.
My mom rarely talks to anyone outside of her bubble. And that's OK for her. It's what some people do. It's normal.
I don't want to be normal.
I don't want to be in the bubble. I would give anything to have my mom's open mindedness, her understanding, her wisdom. One day I will. What price will I have to pay to get it, I wonder? That's unimportant.
What it's like to have those qualities...that's what I'm after.
I am not at that point yet in my life where I can be comfortable with who I am without making a statement. It's who I am right now. It's probably what I will be for a while. I was born to be that person. The loud one. The constant advocate. The debater.
But when it all comes down to the nitty gritty, I'm about everyone else. It's not about me. It's about you.
It's about what you stand for, and how I can help you. You should see the trails of thoughts inside my brain, riding the waves like it's the hundred year storm and you are Bodhi in Australia and Keanu Reeves is waiting to lock you wrists together at the shore.
Mom, if I write about you, please don't be upset with me. That's all I can really say because I write about what I am about. And if you are a part of my life, you can most likely assume that you will be in some story that I will write. That goes for everyone.
Sarah, my four year old, has told me on a few occasions that I embarrass her. I told her to get used to it. That's mean isn't it?
No, I told her this: Sarah, the things that are important for you are important to me. And the things that are important to me, are important to my family, and the things that are important to my friends are important to their family, and that's how the world goes around. Whether you want to admit it or not, people care. Get used to it. I care. I love you, or I wouldn't tell anyone the funny little things you say.
Her response: Mom, let's just keep some things a secret.
What can I say to that but, "I love you, and you're awesome. Don't let anyone EVER tell you different. I know, and I'm your mom."
That is exactly what I said.
That was what I meant.
I am so psyched about Christmas. Yaaaaaay! It's the world's chance to be what God intended us to be- in unison.
Are you excited for the right reasons? Are you going to stop not believing?
Saturday, December 3, 2011
When I die
When I die, please play the "over the rainbow" by IZ okawawissomeoneoranother.
And I love the video. I'd like a funeral like that. I think Wilson would like that too. I'm thinking right now that maybe he would like me spread his ashes in that manner....Oh how would he love his friends to all gather as friends in his honor, or not in anyone's honor, but as people coming together just because they had something in common together....Wilson. And something to share....and it's so simple. It's called love.
I want to spread his ashes. I want it to be something that he would have liked. I can't wait to see him again.
I miss Wilson. This makes me cry. I pray that God can allow me to look past outward appearances and allow me to see what people are really made of.
God, I pray this prayer...
Please allow all of us, who are united through my brother, Wilson, and my Dad, John, to become one with one another regardless of anything that might prohibit us, and let us all be accepted by one another, and be loved by one another in and through You. Thank You, God for allowing life to happen, even though we screw it up on a daily basis, and thank You for being understanding because we couldn't be. Please help us to be more like You when we don't think of you, and when we don't act like we even know You.
Keep us reminded of Your brilliance and love and shining wholeness that we will only be a small fraction of it, but because you love us more than we will ever understand. We will cover the Earth and be here to represent You.
Lord, let us be what You intend. Please forgive us when when we stray from You, but thank You for always welcoming us back. We will always love you, if we are smart....=) God you will always find us, when we are hiding in the deepest places, and on behalf of many, I thank You, and wish that You will draw those here that are far from You closer to You and from this service God, You will make them understand that You are the way, and make them know that You are always with them even through the pain. God , it is through You that we all live, and I thank You. Love is a freedom. You have always given us the choice. Thank You. In Jesus's name I pray.
And I love the video. I'd like a funeral like that. I think Wilson would like that too. I'm thinking right now that maybe he would like me spread his ashes in that manner....Oh how would he love his friends to all gather as friends in his honor, or not in anyone's honor, but as people coming together just because they had something in common together....Wilson. And something to share....and it's so simple. It's called love.
I want to spread his ashes. I want it to be something that he would have liked. I can't wait to see him again.
I miss Wilson. This makes me cry. I pray that God can allow me to look past outward appearances and allow me to see what people are really made of.
God, I pray this prayer...
Please allow all of us, who are united through my brother, Wilson, and my Dad, John, to become one with one another regardless of anything that might prohibit us, and let us all be accepted by one another, and be loved by one another in and through You. Thank You, God for allowing life to happen, even though we screw it up on a daily basis, and thank You for being understanding because we couldn't be. Please help us to be more like You when we don't think of you, and when we don't act like we even know You.
Keep us reminded of Your brilliance and love and shining wholeness that we will only be a small fraction of it, but because you love us more than we will ever understand. We will cover the Earth and be here to represent You.
Lord, let us be what You intend. Please forgive us when when we stray from You, but thank You for always welcoming us back. We will always love you, if we are smart....=) God you will always find us, when we are hiding in the deepest places, and on behalf of many, I thank You, and wish that You will draw those here that are far from You closer to You and from this service God, You will make them understand that You are the way, and make them know that You are always with them even through the pain. God , it is through You that we all live, and I thank You. Love is a freedom. You have always given us the choice. Thank You. In Jesus's name I pray.
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