Archive for the ‘The Everyday’ Category

lions, murder, and dreams, oh my.

Saturday, February 21st, 2009

Drew woke up around midnight last night, screaming and sobbing. I ran to his room and asked him what was wrong (that actually does work sometimes) but he went into I’ll-throw-my-body-in-the-floor-and-wail-until-you-figure-it-out mode. OVERWHELMING.

I tried giving him something to drink, rubbing his back, checking his diaper, re-tucking the blankets, asking if his tummy had an owie, or if there were any OTHER owie’s I needed to look at. He just kept screaming and hitting his head on his pillow. I finally gave him some medicine for his tummy in case he had a tummy ache.

Then I took him over to the rocking chair and wrapped a blanket around him and started singing while I rocked. He fought me as hard as he could, wriggling and trying to get down, all the while – screaming. After TEN LONG MINUTES in which it felt like days passed, he just suddenly slumped into my arms and laid his head down and started snoring slightly.

I tiptoed back to his bed and laid him down. But his blanket was stuck underneath him a little so I eased it out very carefully, trying not to wake him, when he suddenly said, “Hi. Blanket? Night night.”

Oops. I thought he was sleeping. I kissed him and tucked him back in and crawled into bed again.

And then I woke up at one with a very sick Daniel. I’ve never seen him so sick in all of our marriage. I felt so sorry for him. I brought him warm washcloths and offered to run to Wal-Mart (open 24 hours) and buy some medicine to settle his stomach because we are out of it.

He said he actually felt better after getting sick (isn’t that the way it always works? heh.) so we went downstairs and sat in the living room in the dark and talked about whether I should sleep on the couch as to avoid any more germs by sleeping in the same bed with him.

I decided not to because our couch is horribly uncomfortable (the one in the living room, NOT the one in Drew’s room – it’s the wiggliest couch in the world) and because I figured that I hadn’t avoided any germs already. I did spray Lysol on the bed, and then Febreeze, because I can’t stand the smell of Lysol and it was like HEAVEN to have the smell of Febreeze all around me while trying to drift back off to sleep.

I finally fell asleep.

And Oh, Wow. The dream I had was so freaky that when I woke up, I immediately ran downstairs and checked to see if my laptop had charged enough for me to write it down before forgetting it. Elsa, my laptop, was completely charged. Yay.

So, here’s my story.

~

The people I graduated from college with gathered a particular conference together one weekend. It was a conference with some sort of ceremony as well.

Daniel, Drew, and I found a place to stay at this rather eclectic Inn ran by an older Asian couple. We paid for a beautiful room (the most expensive one). We walked in and were so impressed and in awe. Only when we started to look closer did we realize something wasn’t right. The salt and pepper shakers in the kitchen were turned over and the lids were off. Salt and pepper were glumped into piles all over the table. And when I walked by the bathroom, there was a bowl of orange water sitting in the floor. And fingerprints all over the mirrors throughout the room.

I walked back over to Daniel, who was unpacking, and said, “I think we may be in a room that wasn’t cleaned. Which is awful. Don’t unpack yet – I need to go speak with the owners and have us moved to another room.”

At that moment, a man opened a door (that we didn’t know was a door) and ran into our room and stopped and stared at us.

“Oh! This must be your room. We were just put in here, I’m so sorry.”

“No, this isn’t my room. I just wanted to come in and talk to you.”

I completely flipped out then. Not only were we in a dirty room at this Very Odd Inn but it was possible for random people to just walk into our room if they wanted to?

I started screaming at the top of my lungs and had a meltdown. The owners rushed into the room (again, no knocking or anything) and asked what was wrong.

I just pointed at the strange man and said “HE GOT IN HERE. OUR ROOM IS DIRTY. AUGH.” The owners just smiled and assured us that the man was the wife’s brother and that our room was clean and that the fingerprints, salt & pepper, and orange water came with every room.

The strange man rushed over to Daniel and said, “the only reason I came in here is because I wanted to tell you that you and your family HAVE to attend the conference and ceremony tonight.”

Daniel told him that we were already planning on going and satisfied, the man ran back out.

Then we saw the older couple (the owners) standing by the window and muttering. We walked over and looked outside to see a VERY ANGRY LION pouncing about.

“WHY is there a lion outside?”

The older woman explained, “oh, we’ve always had this lion on the property. He’s very angry and gets mad about everything. We have to be very careful when we go outside or he will attack us.”

Furious that they didn’t tell us when we were registering that OH BY THE WAY, WE HAVE AN ANGRY LION, I sputtered and grew red-faced. Then, they opened the window and leaned out to TALK to the lion. It apparently was meant as a calming gesture but the lion jumped through the window and started chasing us all around, growling and snapping his teeth.

Screaming, of course, we all ran around in a circle. Then the couple ran to the window and produced two small silver toys, clinked them together, and threw them out the window. The lion whirled around and ran to the window and jumped out, attacking the toys with vengeance.

They slammed the windows and then apologized profusely about the lion having gotten into our room.

Everyone left our room to go into the main room of the Inn and discuss the lion problem. Everyone except me, Drew, and a nanny type lady who worked at the Inn. We were sitting in the floor near the window when I felt something sting HORRIBLY between my toenails!! I looked down and saw three scorpions, dead (apparently biting me killed them), right by my feet.

I screamed so loudly and ran to the other side of the room as fast as I could. The nanny was trying to understand what I was saying but I was screaming so loud and talking so fast that it was hard. Finally, she heard me say “GET DREW OFF THE FLOOR! SCORPIONS!”

She grabbed him and ran over to be with me. On the safe side of the room.

The problem must have resolved itself because the next thing I remember is Daniel and I trying to get our luggage and Drew from our room to the elevator (we had our own personal elevator in our room) but someone was shooting at us through the window. We had to army crawl to the elevator and jump and hop to avoid the bullets. We finally got all of our luggage and Drew onto the elevator to head downstairs, and then on to our car.

We made it to the car safely, with no one shooting at us outside and with no lion attacks.

We gathered into a huge auditorium (if you’ve been to the FMA at BJU, it was EXACTLY like that) that seated about 7,000 people. But the only people attending were folks that graduated with me in 2003. So, not nearly enough to fill up one section in the auditorium. And oddly, I didn’t recognize ANY faces around me.

The conference/ceremony began with one particular professor speaking. I don’t remember what he was speaking about but suddenly he started blinking and speaking much slower. His voiced cracked and then he stopped his speech and leaned towards the mike.

“You kids better not make FUN OF ME. I know my words don’t make sense and my face is crumbling away but if you tease me then I will CHASE YOU.” He started moaning and making dying noises into the mike and wiping imaginary drool away.

He jumped up and started chasing a few people around and then mass panic set in and everyone started running for the exits. Finally, one brave man hit the professor as hard as he could – right in the face.

And the professor just fell to the ground, giggling. “My face! It hurts! But it’s still there. It’s all in my mind!!”

After that, we all sat back down for the next speech.

A very squishy woman, with a redneck drawl, and short bright red hair, stood up to give a speech. But she threw her speech down and pulled out a shotgun instead.

“I want to confess that I had to go to prison for many long years because of killing people. I just wanted to tell my story.”

No one budged while she told her story and then as she ended, she raised the gun up and started shooting people in the audience. Everyone fell into the floor and started hiding behind the seats.

Daniel, Drew and I were hiding behind a row of seats and panicking about being killed again. All of the sudden, Daniel pulled out a thick envelope and acted like he was going to stand up.

I whispered, loudly, “ARE YOU CRAZY? SHE’S GOING TO KILL YOU IF YOU STAND UP!”

“No, she won’t. But I have to go up there.”

“NO YOU DO NOT. SIT DOWN.”

“No, I need to read these. This envelope holds letters from John, me, and has my confession of when I was in prison for murder too. And I have to read them to everyone.”

“Oh. Alright. YOUR NAME IS JOHN?”

And with that, my alarm went off and I woke up thinking WHO DID I MARRY?!?!

~

Is that not the FREAKIEST dream ever? I love that I didn’t mind that my husband had murdered anyone, I just couldn’t believe that Daniel wasn’t his real name.

crash-time.

Friday, February 20th, 2009

It’s been a long day.

Daniel has been sickly all day long and is finally curled up in bed, shivering, no doubt.

Drew is all tucked in, snoring. Exhausted from all the chasing through the house, climbing on the furniture, playing the piano, and eating large amounts of lasagna.

And I’m about to hit the sack myself. But I’m also hoping and praying my laptop will charge at least a LITTLE BIT during the night tonight so I can use it in the morning. My power adaptor just quit working sometime today and we’ve ordered another one but in the meantime, I have to pinch the little bugger and squint and hop on one foot to practically get it working for 5 seconds.

It doesn’t help that I’m completely over the moon about World of Warcraft now and can’t play after Drew’s gone to bed because my laptop won’t last long enough for me to put the kaboom on some enemies. Ladylike kaboom. Of course.

I’ve never played a MMORPG game before and had a real strong prejudice against it for a long time. What on EARTH was wrong with me? It’s like my nerd side + adventure side + secret ladylike kaboom side is all together and it’s PARTY TIME. Plus, I love the fact that my friends and I can hang out in the game. Becca helped me out tremendously last night while I was eating a bowl of cereal before bed. Thank you! You rock! Even if I’m jealous of your brightly colored ostrich pet-thing.

I’m really glad Friday is over and now we have Saturday to deal with. It was going to be wiggly, with plans and all, but now that Daniel is sick I have a feeling it’s just going to be a saltines, sprite, bratty diet, and lying around sort of day.

Hmm. That doesn’t sound so bad come to think of it.

to be remembered.

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

Each life experience leaves a layer of memory like a deposit of sediment: things we’ve loved and moments of contentment we’ve cherished that when recalled, reveal glimmers of our true selves.

Some women are hesitant to recall their past because they’re afraid they’ll dredge up painful memories. But just as each illness brings a gift for us if we will look for it, so each painful memory comes bearing a peace offering. There is nothing to fear. The past only asks to be remembered.

– Sarah Ban Breathnach

febreeze and zombies.

Wednesday, February 18th, 2009

If perfume was made from Febreeze, I’d totally buy it. I’m just saying. I’ve been cleaning so much in the past two days that I feel like I’ve been spritzing it every 5 seconds. Come to think of it, I probably have been spritzing it that much. No wonder the bottle is almost empty.

Besides the cloud of Febreeze that is apparently hovering in our house right now, we’ve also been eating a lot of waffles, watching Austin Powers movies, and I’ve been surfing the Crime Library and watching CSI episodes a little too much.

Last night, Daniel was going to pick up dinner on his way home. I turned on the pole light that is right beside the driveway, opened the front door, and waited for him. He got home pretty soon and walked in while flipping through the mail. And he had no food with him.

“Hi and all that but where’s dinner?”

“Oh, riiiiight (Austin Powers influence), I knew I forgot something.”

And with that he turned around and walked back out the door.

I thought he meant that it was in the car. But after five minutes passed, I wondered what on earth had he purchased that would require five minutes of slow and heavy lifting before he could bring it in the house.

I ran to the door and looked outside and the CAR WAS GONE.

OH MY WORD. I immediately imagined that five guys in black leather had jumped out from our leave-less bushes and had forced him into the car at gunpoint and ordered him to drive to an undisclosed location where they would chop his fingers off slowly until he revealed where on earth he bought that awesome hair gel he’s been using.

And thaaaaat’s when I told myself, “Jennifer, you need to stop reading Crime Library. And watching CSI.”

It turns out he had forgot to even PURCHASE dinner.

We have another day of cleaning planned. And by we, I mean me. Drew is pretty much just driving cars on the floor, the couch, the window sill, the high-chair legs, the dining room table, and perfecting his zombie walk.

What’s his zombie walk, you ask?

Well, it’s where he walks like a zombie. I kid you not. He sticks both arms straight out in front of him and lowers his head until his chin touches his collar bone and then waddles through the house. With a wide grin on his face. And in a high pitched voice, he says, “look at me! look at me!”

Neither Daniel nor I have taught him this. I promise. He’s just started doing it and he’s continuing it because he gets the most awesome reaction from his mommy.

speak to me in the light of the dawn.

Sunday, February 15th, 2009

Since the beginning of this year, I’ve been in the bluest, most angsty depression you can imagine. At times, it felt worse than the scary post-partum depression I experienced after a rough recovery while healing from the c-section with Drew.

Those days were scary. Scissors, throwing pots, ripping pages out of books, finding myself in the floor of the bathroom and not remembering how I got there. In time, I realized the “Christian” advice of just committing more to Christ so He would heal my obvious sin problem was very, very wrong and found my way to a doctor. Interestingly, it was a Christian doctor who wrapped her arms around me and whispered that she treated so many folks in our community (the upstate of South Carolina at that time) who’d been told all of their life that depression was a sin problem. She prayed over me and we talked faith and science for quite a while. Anti-depressants were a life-saver at that moment. As was my husband who gingerly and sweetly walked through those days with me.

(If you know very little of depression, or the effect that depression can have on the other spouse, please go read Jon Armstrong’s story.)

After we moved here, I went off the meds simply because I was feeling a lot better and when it was time for my prescription to be refilled, I thought, why not try a month without it to see if I need them permanently or all the time. A perfectly normal thought.

I did very well from August – December. Yes, there was change, in a variety of forms, and the normal stress of life was always present, but I was able to function very well through it all. I had blue days occasionally but we all have those.

After we visited South Carolina for Christmas, and then had a New Years celebration in Maryland, we came home and I slowly sank into a depressed state. I think many different things contributed to it all. I was sick with a sinus infection for a month, I started having asthma problems at night, and with the cold Pennsylvania days blustering around the house and Daniel having our only car, Drew and I have been stuck in the house for 6 1/2 weeks. I think we’ve gotten out of the house during the day for maybe 4 days.

The laundry has piled up, the dishes have stacked in the sink, and for one week, I only showered once. I didn’t even have the strength to take my clothes off and stand in the hot water. And yet I ached to.

Each day has been the same. Daniel leaves for work, and Drew and I slowly wake up and eat breakfast while watching Sesame Street. Then we color, read books, and play with toys. And all the while, I cry. I change his diaper, I give him a bath (and yet couldn’t muster the strength to shower), we eat lunch, I teach him blue, yellow, red, and during his naps I go into the guest room and sit in the chair by the window.

I tried to read my Bible. I tried to read books. I tried to surf online. I deactivated Twitter and Facebook. And I sat curled up in the chair and wept for two hours every day. Drew would snore, and I’d watch the squirrels play in the tree, and see the little neighbor girl arrive home from school each day. She’d wave at her mom and run into the house and I’d envy her ability to skip on days when snow was covering everything. I stopped going to church for a while. And I avoided all phone calls and emails.

Our evenings consisted of Daniel arriving home, and comforting me for a bit before he planned dinner, did laundry, and straightened the house. I’d hold Drew and read books but without the wiggly voice I always use. I tried to play the piano and I tried to sing. But it was as though I had no voice with which to sing.

We finally had the talk about how perhaps I really needed to get to a doctor and get back on some medication so I could start to function again. But in the back of my mind, I kept fighting this voice that spoke with Christian authority urging me to simply ask God what I was doing wrong and that once I confronted my sin, I would be healed of these blue days.

It was as though I had learned nothing in the past two years of my on and off struggle with depression and reconciling it with God. It was difficult to think of depression as an illness that simply happens to some folks through nothing that they’ve done at all. I told myself that if I or Daniel had not seen or felt improvement in two weeks, that I’d schedule an appointment with a doctor.

That was two weeks ago.

And on the other side of that long conversation, with Daniel and God, I am wide eyed in amazement.

One evening, I sat in the floor with my laptop and thought perhaps I could use some of this time in which I was off Facebook, Twitter, and blogging, to find all of my past archives and sync them into Fairly Ordinary. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to publish them all but I just wanted them in one place.

It was pretty mindless to sit and scroll, copy and paste, and create entries in WordPress. But I did read every word, and I slowly began to relive all of these stories.

Part of my biggest frustration in the past two years is that I’ve felt like I don’t know who I am anymore. The woman I was in college, and the woman I was after college is different. And the woman I was when I met Daniel, and the woman I was after we were married for a year is different. And Lord knows the woman I was before being a mother and the woman I am now are really, really different.

The more I learn of God and the more I learn about life, my creeds seem to shatter and I slowly find myself realizing that life is truly only about acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. The rest is grace and freedom.

I’m so thankful to have learned of the sweet grace of Jesus but I’ve still paced back and forth on the question of but who am I now?

As I relived my stories, I realized that I am still the same Jennifer.

The same Jennifer who wept at the piano and in hot baths, who knew to lift her head to the sky, who realized that she was being woven into the story of redemption, who reminded herself that nothing compares even when those she loves walks away from Christianity, who spent weeks listening to Taylor Sorenson’s I Sought for the King so many times that my cd broke, who had days that felt like annoying drips from the kitchen sink, and the same Jennifer who rediscovered the beauty of grace and peace woven into the story of the One who is my Rescuer.

I’m just someone who has forgotten the depth of some chapters in my life. I laughed and cried as I re-read the stories. I rolled my eyes at the naivety during my college days. I wiped tears as I read and remembered the hearts I hurt and those who hurt mine. And I winced as I read things about faith that are simply not true. But all of these pieces are part of my glorious story.

A story of one fairly ordinary girl who met God as a child and had no idea what she was getting into. And I still don’t. 🙂

I felt my heart healing, the sadness leaving, and joy flooding over my soul as I remembered all the times God brought me through. I reminded myself of His mercy, I bathed in His love, and I opened my front door on a cold winter day while crying as I realized that no matter if these dark days were going to subside or linger, that I’m loved by the God of the universe and He cares where I am and how I feel and He’s not sitting in Heaven marking off a list of lessons that Jennifer Needs to Learn.

In other words, this life isn’t a Sunday School Lesson in which I need to get an A+ or I’ll have to repeat the lesson. Nor is life about finding the ever elusive Will of God that even when found needs a secret map or decoder ring to decipher.

It’s simply about acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. The rest is grace and freedom.

Interestingly, the dark depression has lifted for the moment. We’ve realized that my being indoors all week doesn’t help me emotionally and so we’ve visited parks at lunchtime, had dinners out in the evening, and music has poured out of our living room late into the evening.

I still don’t know if I need medication but I’m willing to see a doctor and head back down that road if that is what my body needs. I just know that this dark depression I was in was very real and painful and my body and soul have healed without meds for the time being. I am just taking each day at a time right now.

This weekend was so encouraging. We spent Valentines Day in Hershey, Pennsylvania where we trekked through ZooAmerica and Chocolate World (and I am actually sick of chocolate now – and yes, that’s blasphemous I realize), and I finally found myself back at church this morning.

I’m so incredibly glad I did.

Daniel is playing with the band now so I took over his technical/keynote responsibilities. I had to get there early and was around when the band started to practice.

I sat in a puddle of tears as I heard for the first time, C.S. Lewis Song. It’s based off of his writings and the lead singer this morning read from Till We Have Faces before she sang. You can find the lyrics here and below is the video by Brooke Fraser:

We then talked about big hairy questions that make a lot of Christians normally squirm. Things like why does God allow bad things to happen to anyone, much less Christians? Why are their tsunamis, earthquakes, famine, and airplanes crashing into houses? If God is all powerful, then does God cause pain?

It wasn’t a pretentious time of We Have All the Answers and you are welcome to gather around and learn. We just shared our stories and read the Bible and marveled on what is true about life and God.

At one point, someone was sharing that a particular painful chapter in their life had been when a family member was very ill. In their crying out to God, they began to learn that pain isn’t something that God sends to teach a lesson (my dark depression isn’t just a sound bop on the head from the Almighty who is itching to remind me to rely on Him) but that through the curse of a broken earth or a broken body, and through our own stumblings and failures, we do have pain.

We do have depression, ended relationships, sickly family members, children without food, dying dreams, and the blackest of days – but we can see God through the pain. And by see, I mean, really know.

And with all creation groan as I wait for hope to come for me.

I’m on the other side of the pain for the moment. My soul is encouraged and I’ve written this down to remind myself in the days ahead…although the pain will no doubt come, there will be an end.

My patient husband and sweet son are sleeping right now. I’m thinking I might order Pizza Hut’s pasta for dinner. And now it’s the middle of February and I feel like I’ve lost a month and a half in this year. But I haven’t. I’ve gained perspective and a gentle reminder that He was here all along.

The days ahead look interesting.

Our stay in Carlisle looks as if it won’t be much longer. Because of Daniel’s job, we are 90% sure we’ll be moving to Ann Arbor, Michigan in the coming months. And who knows what other pieces of our story will change. But all along, no matter where we live, no matter how dark my days are, I will listen to His voice in the light of the dawn and wait for Him to hold my hand when I’m singing loudly and full of joy or when I’m blindly stumbling through my day and unable to step into a hot shower.

For I was made to live. I was made to love. I was made to know You.

And hope is coming for me.