finding wonder in the mundane

i guess I do have balls

We have neighbors across the street who just had a relative move in from a commonly-known prison city around these parts.

Parent of the year that I am, I wanted to know just exactly what he was in for, so I asked him.

I had been trying, with little to no success, to get the answer out of the neighbors' children. I told them the convict in question looked familiar (Scott wonders if I saw him in a wanted poster at the post office), and I wondered what his name was. They said, "Uncle Tim" (name changed to protect the innocent - or not-so-innocent, as the case may be.) Well, you won't really have much success googling "Child Mo*lester Uncle Tim", so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Lucy was blowing bubbles with Uncle Tim's niece, and Scott was out there with them. I was in the middle of changing the most crap-tacular diaper of the century (my kid can poop), and upon seeing Uncle Tim by himself out the living room window, wife-beater, pants down to his ankles, muscled-up arms, tattoos and all, I ran out the door quicker than you can say "please don't be a child mo*lester, Uncle Tim". I bounded over to their yard and introduced myself.

"Hi, I'm Rachel. We live across the street. I understand you just moved from prisontown - what were you in for?"

Uncle Tim just stood there looking at me, jaw open.

"Who told you?"

I wave my hand casually, hoping he won't drag out a pistol and whip me.

"Oh, one of the kids or something. So anyway, what were you in for?"

"Drug posession."

"How long were you there?"

"4 years."

"Phew. I was just hoping you weren't a child mol*ester."

"Do I LOOK like a child mole*ster?"

"Well, what exactly does a child mole*ster look like? I have no idea. I'm not a violent person, but if you touch my kid, you're dead."
(what got INTO me?)

Then I asked Uncle Tim if there were really gangs in prison like on Lisa Ling's National Geographic Explorer. He told me we could talk about it sometime. (Wha????)

Scott still can't believe I just out and asked him what he was in for. I can't really, either. If you could see this guy - well, he looks like a Hell's Angel. My husband DID say one of the reasons he was first attracted to me was because I "keep life fun".

I might get us shot and thrown into a river in the process, but at least it will be fun.

the song that broke it open

Take a listen: Download 04_you_did_that_for_me.wma

"Rachel, you have the classic 'Catholic Guilt', and you aren't even Catholic."

My sister in law used to be Catholic; she converted to Protestantism shortly after she met my brother.

I talked with my small group on Wednesday night about feeling like I need to be so many things for so many people, to the point where I am just run ragged. I have a few friends (and I mean a few) who I feel I can be myself with; who don't require anything of me. Friends I can say "no" to and know they aren't going to get offended or upset when I say no. And, sadly, these are the friends who get the shaft when I'm trying to "reach out" to the lady at McDonald's or be a friend to my pharmacist (no joke) when she needs to sit at the Toyota repair shop for 3 hours and for me to sit there with her, or my neighbor who is getting a divorce and needs to just talk, or my trashmen who are, apparently, very thirsty for Coca Cola.

In general, I can't say no. I feel guilty for just having a friend over and visiting. After all, there are people to save and things to do. There are a few people I can say "no" to, but like I said, they are the people I know I can rest in; people who I know, for whatever reason, will still love little old me. I befriend everyone. But the result of that is I have so many phone calls to return, so many emails to write. So many people I want to show love to; so many people for whom I want the love of Christ to be real. So much work to do, and honestly? I'm tired. I'm so tired.

I've always struggled with wanting to make people happy. I know part of this is an extension of my OCD, but when I was small I would make note of every wrong thing I did throughout the day. Then, at the end of the day, I would show my mom the list and she would forgive me of it all. I vividly remember one of those wrong things was feeling jealous of my friend Kiki, whose aunt and uncle were about to adopt their first daughter. I wrote that down because I knew it was a sin. I hung onto that for days; wasn't that evil to be jealous of someone?

My whole life I have struggled to be someone; be someone really worth noting. I wanted to be a good singer, a good writer. I wanted to dress fashionably (yeah, gave that one up long ago), I wanted to be skinny. I wanted everyone to see what a good person I was. I have often been scared of the reckoning I will have at the end of my life when God asks us, "What did you do to further My kingdom?" I am afraid I will come short. So, so short. I think about that all the time.

Sometimes, in the dark of the night when I can't sleep, I'll come down here to the computer in my chilly basement and google "cancer" or "lost my baby" and I'll just email people I don't even know, just to encourage them, to tell them there is hope. I feel guilty that my kid doesn't have cancer or I don't have to use a walker or my husband is a cool guy. I am, in a sense, paying penance.

The treadmill goes faster and faster, and my ankles are breaking.

If you know me you know I am a severely flawed individual. I can be selfish and crabby and angry and jealous, and I have a double chin. But I still want you to see the Christ that I love. HOW can you see Him if I fail to afford myself the forgiveness and freedom He has promised us? Is my search of the Catholic faith just an extension of my wanting to DO something more for Jesus' love? To somehow EARN my salvation? I can never earn it. His grace is sufficient; it HAS to be, because He said so. I can't lose it, no matter what I do. If I could, is it really all-encompassing grace?

I have been looking forward to a family weekend this weekend. I know parents will call and want to do things. And I'll feel bad to say "no" because I want to make them happy and say "yes". But, showing others God's love is not saying "yes, yes, yes. unequivicably, yes." Showing others God's love is ALSO showing yourself some of the same love because you are His creation. He mysteriously knit me together in my mother's womb, the same way He did for my neighbor and the garbage man. He breathed the elixir of life into my bones and I am His song.

I am His song!

The funny thing about religion is that we want to add to it - to add to what is there so that it says, "You must do this and this and this to be worthy." This is the human's plight, without God. We must do, be, achieve.

What does that have to do with Grace?

The love of God for me is like a favorite song, a wooly sweater, my husband's arm draped on my shoulder. God loves me because I exist and He created me. Nothing more, nothing less.

I was watching Asher drift off to sleep just a minute ago. He was humming to himself and when he saw me watching him, his sweet little mouth broke into a grin. He is so trusting. He knows I love him simply because he is mine.

There's a lesson in there somewhere.