It’s time to come clean, to confess the compromises to my principals and beliefs over the last couple years and admit to the consequences of my choices. It’s like the song “Slow Fade” by Casting Crowns: “It’s a slow fade, when you give yourself away. It’s a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray. And thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid, when you give yourself away. People never crumble in a day...” I didn’t set out to be in consumer debt again after working so hard with my ex-husband to get out of it. I didn’t set out to have an ex-husband. I didn’t plan to be dating in my late thirties proclaiming my boundaries publicly because our culture falsely dictates that hook-ups and friends-with-benefits are supposed to be normal not scandalous. There’s a little known saying: “Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” It’s a warning of sorts; the “little foxes” as they’re called in this Biblical passage are the little things that, over time, ruin us. The little foxes invade our thoughts, our relationships, our sensibilities and slowly eat away at the rich, ripe fruit we’ve tended to and watched grow. With stealth and cunning they sneak in and take and weaken and reduce our harvest. Little by little, day by day, without vigilance and accountability a luscious vineyard becomes a picked over field of lackluster fruit. Today, I look over a windy and battered vineyard that is my life and wonder... who have I become? I’m nothing like she who once was. I know that life circumstances like mine lend themselves to a change in lifestyle. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now; I’m blessed to have gone through this in the day and place we live. Had I been abandoned in a different time or country, I wouldn’t have fared so well. I have a job and community that supports struggling single women and doesn’t prey on them. I live a happy, comfortable, independent life that keeps me safe. It’s a good life I’ve been dropped into, but it’s different. I am alone; free and unfettered to taste and see and hear and feel all that that I can... but also unaccountable. I don’t answer to anyone and, no one cares what I do with my time, talent or money... for me, this is the biggest little fox in the skulk. Some people are loners and can effectively live and manage their vineyard on their own. While I am fiercely ambitious and motivated, I know that I am a companionable soul and work my vineyard best in fellowship. It’s not that I need someone to tell me what to do… no, no... I appreciate knowledgeable guidance but I’ll learn how to grow, water and nourish my fruit myself; that part I’ve got covered. It’s near the borders, where the creeping vermin sneak in, and in the bounty I have to share, where a companion, accountability partner, or teammate works best for me. Let me explain… If I am left to myself, yes, I want a vineyard capable of sustaining me, but so what if some of the fruit is consumed by pests? There’s still enough for me to live off of. Sure it’s not the best, it’s not the most, it’s not the smartest way to tend a vineyard but… who cares? As long as it’s enough for me, it’s good enough. But, add a partner to the mix, someone I know will also enjoy my fruit, suddenly I’m motivated to shoo those foxes away and build fences and borders to keep them out. Why? So I have more bounty to share with them of course! I have external motivation, someone else to give to, to share with. I have a greater reason to care. It’s not the same as being desperate for a companion. I don’t need someone for my vineyard to grow. God has blessed me with a wonderful body, mind, soul and spirit. He has given me opportunity to grow good fruit. I do that, but there’s something about me that manages myself better when I know there’s someone else directly affected. I lost my someone… my someones actually… In the same amount of time that my ex-husband left, my kids transitioned from childhood into young adults, capable of making their own choices, quite independently of me. He didn’t want me. They didn’t need me. I, alone, was left to tend my vineyard, and the little foxes started creeping. The biggest compromises came in the areas of finance and romance and it is in these two areas I must make my confession, but this is enough for now, confession is inevitable but it will wait a bit longer, just a bit...
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During my Run Wenatchee 10K walk last Thursday, God painted the sky with bright, beautiful, brilliant brush-strokes of sensuous, sunset splendor. That sexy skyscape, coupled with a house blessing I was part of last Saturday, and a guest in a dark place that was invited into my home earlier this week, got me thinking about falling in love.
The greatest love story of my life started with a sunset and an invitation and a paradigm shift. It seemed insignificant at the time but now, it’s one of my most beautiful, treasured recollections. I’m drawn to beauty; in shape, in form, in color, texture, taste, smell and sound. Beauty arrests me. Even though I’m a mover and a shaker, when beauty strikes, even for milliseconds, I can catch it and hold it and remember it, reflect on it, recollect how it made me marvel in a moment. That sunset was beautiful. That sunset seduced me and changed my life. In that moment any doubt I had was gone. I knew… there was more. He knocked. I didn’t let Him in, I simply, offhandedly acknowledged Presence. That day, from then to now is my love story. No one who knows me now seems to be able to understand how I could have been so different. But, I know what I was. I know the choices I made, the hurt and hate and brokenness inside me that I also perpetrated onto others. No one could help, though many tried. I was hopeless, helpless, and lifeless, on a crash course for ruining my life and taking precious cargo with me. And still He knocked. Patient, persistent, passionate, pursuit. Day after day, week after week, month after month, opening my eyes to His wondrous deeds, mostly in the beauty of creation but also in His word and true followers. I fell in love, awestruck, heart-beating faster, "He loves ME" kind of love! Me? Me! When you feel gross, when you hate yourself and Someone noble, and good and honest loves you... it changes you, or at least, Love changed me. He knocked. The pipe was in my hand, I considered my ways. I turned my steps toward him. I put the pipe down and opened the door… That’s my miracle, but really it’s more like a metamorphosis than a miracle, unless you consider slow, gradual change from a baser life to a better one miraculous. That’s my story. That’s the life I laid down and this is the new life I live! Like a guest into my home, and a lover into my heart, I let Christ into every part of my life. Like a Master craftsman, Mr. fix-it, house cleaner, and interior decorator all in one mighty saving package of grace and forgiveness, I’m letting Him work me over. Not because of fear or obligation but because of love and honor. God loves me, I love God. I want to honor Him because I love him. The thing is His love cleans me, heals me, refreshes and renews me. I am better for myself, my family, my friends and my community because I want to show His kind of character and love to others. It is not always easy but it is never oppressive, restrictive or demeaning. Drugs were oppressive. Addiction was restrictive. Hate, greed, envy were demeaning. His ways are good! Even this lonely, little, life I live; as silly and insignificant in the grand scheme of things as it is… it’s such a good life! I love it! I traded chains for freedom, mire for mountains, oppression for goals, love for Love, Life for life. He loves me and gave me a new life so I give Him all of mine. And nothing and no one can separate me from His love! He says: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” – Revelation 3:20 If ever you want to talk about my story, or God, find me and ask! I’m happy to listen and share! Everyone who has spent a little bit of time around me hopefully knows a few things: #1) I love Jesus, #2) I love my family & friends, #3) I love most things fitness/movement related & #4) I love nerdy things like memorizing historical documents and scripture and watching scientific debates. It would be the #2 category that this particular blog falls into...
I love my family & my friends, I want them all to be happy and feel loved and not have to be alone. What this means is when I see an opportunity for friends of mine to connect with like-minded souls... I like to facilitate that connection in anyway I can. I’m a wing chick! I enjoy the role! I’m not cupid but a couple friends have scored a couple dates, I can’t say anyone has gone to the next level… yet but, there’s hope! There’s always hope where Love and Light are concerned! I thought I was a good wing chick until I watched Matthew Hussey’s video on being a bad wing chick… and it hurt my feelings! According to this guy, apparently I owe some of my boys and babes an apology for my crappy wing chicky-ness. I apologize (and I sincerely mean it from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry if my wing chickin’ has been an epic fail for anyone, y’all know I love you and only mean to connect people that might not have otherwise met) I would like to take a moment to defend my honor and explain my motives. Watch Matthew Hussey’s video to fully understand my defense: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATL01kP0Uh8 #1: The Houdini: OK here’s the deal, if you’re a girl and I’ve ever done this to you, that’s on you, you didn’t signal that you needed me to stick around and rescue you from a guy you weren’t interested in. Guys, trust me she knows what signal I’m talking about, we have a woman sense we communicate with. If you’re one of my guys, well... I figure you’re a grown man and can handle yourself, so find me later, and tell me what your signal is for next time. Seriously though, I always thought my job as a wing chick was to facilitate a meeting. If I introduce two people and they seem to hit it off talking and I’m just standing there it feels weird. I feel like if I say anything I’m butting in and being rude, and I’m trying to connect you two, so it naturally made sense to me to find something else to do while the two of you talked. Apparently that’s more rude than butting in is, who knew!? I suppose this is something I’ll have to work at because to stay where I’m not necessary feels uncomfortable to me. Moving on… #2 The overzealous cheerleader: Well, yeah I’m overzealous! Have you met me?!?! What am I not overzealous about? That’s just me, and I’m pretty sure everyone I choose to spend any significant amount of time with is a pretty awesome, amazing, positive, fun and cool person too. Why wouldn’t I tout their sensational characteristics or arms or eyes or intelligence or fitness level? Would it seriously be better to be like… “Hey, friend, this is my other friend, they’re OK… I guess. I mean, if you like people like that...” Nah! You want to hear me tell you something cool about them, right? Or is it stealing their thunder? Or even worse, making them look desperate? I really hope I haven't done that to anyone. Sorry if I have, and to anyone who felt like I was cheerleading for someone, they’re not desperate, they’re cool and you should talk to them to improve your own life and network if nothing else, I promise I won’t bail on the convo this time ;) And finally… #3 The overprotective bodyguard: This is all I’ll say about this one. I am most definitely over protective of the people I love. Since moving to Chelan county I have invested time, energy, love and life into my community, my friends and my passions. The people that I know aren’t just friends, gym-mates, co-workers, fellow advocates, dance partners, running & hiking buddies, church compadres, etc. these people are pretty much my family. I love them! I want the best for them! … and if you hurt them, you’ll answer for it and… I am a short, feisty Italian and if you hurt my friends I’ll bust your knee caps capiche? :) So, if you need me to wing chick, I am at your service! But, I’ve decided that I need to dial back my busy-bodiness and won’t initiate anymore connections ‘cause sometimes being a wing chick gets you into awkward situations and I’d like to not have any more of those. Trust: A firm believe in the reliability, truth, ability or strength of someone or something
Her voice was melodic and well worn. I could tell, even without seeing her, she was at least a septuagenarian (in her seventies). She left a simple voice mail but her closing statement gave me pause... “I trust I’ll hear from you soon.” She trusted me. I know it was, like she is, an antiquated relic from bygone days, but it struck me. She trusted me. With ADHD, simple things like calls are difficult. There’s nothing to “pin” the moment to. Fact exchanging phone calls are the worst… post-it and paper at my desk, notes app on my phone, Subway napkin on my counter, never sear the facts in my brain quite right. But she trusted she would hear from me. What was it about the phrase? Ahhhh, it was Jesse Collver in eleventh grade. Trust flooded back, setting my heart to beat wildly and calming my anxieties all in the same sweet memory. Full disclosure, I had a high school boyfriend and Jesse was not him. Also, I think it’s safe to say almost every girl in high school pined for Jesse – these facts may come in handy later, so hang on to them and follow me on a journey into trust. The year was 1994 and the high school boyfriend (I later found out) rigged a survey allowing me to become a Natural Helper. I remember little about the group except for the retreat where Jesse became the definition of trust for the rest of my life. All new Natural Helpers went on a weekend getaway to a lodge, in the middle of nowhere, to learn how to be better helpers. There was a bus ride and other workshops and food and girls like the gregarious Gwen giggling in bunks far too late into the night, but I only remember Jesse... and trust. I trusted few people back then (or now if I’m completely honest). I knew people meant well but rarely followed through. Bad things had happened to me and people let me down. I trusted few, but I watched everyone. Words and actions, over time, could eventually transfer a person into my “safe” category. That didn’t necessarily translate to “trusting” them, but at least I felt a measure of safety around them. Jesse was safe, probably because he was precisely my definition of handsome and had never said or done anything to me to make me doubt the quality of his teenaged character. And there we were, a bus full of kids, in a wooden lodge in the forest… and we had to play a trust game. It was simple; one person steps into the middle of a human circle and falls backward with arms across chest and eyes closed, the others catch. It was all fun and games to catch. I was well acquainted with catching what falls and trying to manage it. But when my turn came; I couldn’t fall back. I don’t know how many times I couldn’t fall but I remember the instructor coaching me to trust, prompting the kids to assure me they were trustworthy and still I couldn’t. Then Jesse made trust real. He walked up behind me, this big, strong, safe young man; his heat, at my back, blocked out the noise and giggles and frustration building inside me. His nearness, his presence thrilled me. HE was at my back! HE whom I had admired from a far for a year and a half of high school days, which was pretty much forever at sixteen. He was with me. And he spoke… Lips pressed gently to my ear; two hushed, warm words whispered… “Trust me.” His breath tickled and teased and pulled at my insides. My breath caught somewhere between in and exhale. In that moment, everything in me belonged to him. HE was trustworthy. I knew there was absolutely, 100% no way he would be there, if he intended to let me hit the ground. Heart beating wildly; I nodded. I would trust him. I crossed my arms, closed my eyes and fell… into arms at the ready. That was trust. That is trust. To this day, when I think of trusting someone, I go back to falling into his arms. I don’t know how it would have played out had a girlfriend or boy with whom I had no secret affection or attraction to whispered to me. But it happened the way it did, and I know trust because of it. My sweet septuagenarian trusted that she’d hear back from me, and though the facts of that call-back conversation lay scribbled on a bright yellow post-it I may soon forget, I didn’t break her trust. “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’” From the moment I read this verse in Isaiah (30:21), I thought of Jesse at my back, strong and warm behind me, gentle and safe beside me, completely assuring inside me. I’m so grateful for this picture of trust and humbled to say I honestly trust the LORD this much. I don’t understand the circumstances of my life, but… I trust Him. He is my strength and my hope and my confidence. I trust the LORD with all my heart, mind, soul and spirit. May you also come to know something so trustworthy in your own life. If ever you want to talk about trusting Christ, I would be honored to speak with you! I screwed up! I caused pain and for that I’m sorry but I learned an amazing truth about good men of honor. My paradigm has shifted, my mind been blown, and though there was pain I’m grateful for this new truth that I can walk in. It modifies my plan but it’s necessary in order to maintain my dignity in the eyes of the good men I want to get to know.
The thing is, the cardinal rule when analyzing data is that you “let the data speak for itself.” Never make the data fit assumptions, never mess with the data to rationalize theories; but that is exactly what I did because I wanted my plan to work. Why my plan anyway? Why can’t I just leave love to chance or God or time or whatever? I’d like to say I think my plan does leave love to all of that BUT also takes into account some sad, sorrowful truths. #1) I’m looking for a partner to share my life with and this will be my third marriage. I am not going to be that woman with five husbands and the one I end up with won’t even be one I’m married to. This is it. I have NO margin of error. #2) We live in a society with a 50% failure rate at marriage… that doesn’t even count broken relationships where love once was that never make it to marriage. #3) In the evangelical Christian culture, divorce is humiliatingly higher than the overall average population. I believe if I seek a partner the way it’s being done in our society now, the way I’ve done it before, I’m going to fail again. It needs to be different. I thought my plan was a near-perfect way to avoid the pitfalls of feeling in love and falling in love without rationally thinking it through. I don’t want to fail at love again, I want the next time to be the last time. While I love The Middle for being able to do what I want, when I want with whom I want, I don’t want to be single and searching any longer than necessary. I don’t want to be alone. Thousands of good, kind, loving men just in my local area don’t want to be alone either. I’m a quality woman that wants the best in a relationship and so do they. There’s no point in messing around for years to find “the one” when there are literally hundreds that are suitable. I figured the best way to save time would be to be a quality casual date for guys right now and get to know several good guys at once. My theory made sense to me... condense the men into the shortest amount of time possible, see whom I am most compatible with (knowing no one will be 100% compatible), take time to maintain my individual identity as I continue to heal, and when the time is up… see how it plays out with the most compatible guy of whomever is there, rinse and repeat, as needed until one gets me in the boat. The plan provided time, because I KNOW I’m not ready for a relationship right now, but not too much time so that I end up becoming a woman of such independence that I’m not going to want to share life with someone but will rather want them to do life my way. I still think the intention behind my plan is good… but the execution neglected to take into consideration a trait inherent in the hearts, minds and souls of the best kind of men. I’d like to call it jealousy, and then ask any good men reading this to hang on before you defend yourself against the word. That’s one of the things I learned; good men will try not to call it what it is. Men of valor live by a code of honor and the way we throw the word jealousy around now, it is not an honorable trait. When we think of jealousy, ideas of possessive, angry, insecure, controlling jerks come to mind. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about righteous jealousy; it is so mind-blowingly different. It’s actually a beautiful thing now that I’m letting the data speak for itself. So beautiful. An honorable trait, a godly trait. One to be desired in a good man. One to be respected as I continue to date. Let me explain this good jealousy as I’ve seen it play out over these last five months… I’ve intentionally studied and watched men I identify as the good kind. Are they prefect? No, but they are so amazing that I am in awe at their acts of noble strength, kindness, courage, humility, service, support, protection, activism and involvement. These men, the good men of the world, know better than we women can understand, the heart of a good man and how pure it is despite the secret insecurities and mistakes they may make. They are real-life heroes as opposed to the bad guys. Bad guys are evil, vile perpetrators of bad stuff. Good men take pride in humbly, faithfully protecting our world from them, in big things like military service and small things like assessing the people around them to identify any possible threats and walking on the street side of the road to protect those they’re with. They know they’re not perfect but they also know they make an active choice to be a good man every day. In the context of dating what I’ve observed in my, and my single lady friend’s dating adventures, and from the lives and words of others is that a good man is willing to meet and date a quality causal woman until it breaks the code of honor. What I’ve observed is that there comes a point when a man believes himself to be a suitable partner, the kind that would love and protect the woman they’re dating and something inside them can no longer be cool with quality casual. Either it must change or end because… jealousy. They are good men, they know what they can offer and have no intention or desire to compete with anyone, who in their opinion, wouldn’t be the best option. These good men I write of are sure of what they are able to provide. It’s not insecurity; I feel like it’s the exact opposite, righteous jealousy, is assurance they are the best for me and an intolerance to be compared to someone else. What I think I’m realizing is that good men in general appreciate the opportunity to show a woman they are dating who they are, what they do, think and feel in a non-competitive arena. Be sure of this, if they’re into a lady enough, they will, um … “fight” for their opportunity because they believe they’re the best (and it's honestly kind of humbling to be the object of that kind of desire). BUT it’s disrespectful and dishonorable of me, if I choose to identify myself as a dignified woman, to purposely put them in that position (although if they know they're the best for the lady they should fight for her if they believe she's misguided in her attentions). That’s where I screwed up. I’m not dating losers, neither are my friends. These are good, kind, honorable, respectful men and one after another this same aversion to quality casual dating appears. The data speaks, I must listen. My plan must be, and has been altered. If I want a good man, I must give good men the opportunity to reveal themselves to me within an arena of undivided time and attention. NO that doesn’t mean I’m having a relationship! NO that doesn’t mean my plan or timeline changes except that there is only one good man I’ll be doing fun stuff with at a time. It scares me because, honestly, I think it’ll be much harder to hold my emotional and physical boundaries because, for me, familiarity breeds comfort and I’m a creature of comfort. But I think the change must happen in order to maintain my honor in the eyes of good men. So, I screwed up, I learned how beautiful righteous jealousy is, I am giving one good guy at a time undivided attention and I must now ferociously guard my heart to be sure I don't slip and fall in love but still stay the course and find rational love that makes sense. |
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