August Twenty-Seven.

If I was not opposed to it, I would be using superfluous amounts of curse words in this blog entry.  However, I know the good Lord would not appreciate such language, so I will try to refrain.

One year ago I sat alone in my dorm room at America's Keswick, one hour and fifteen minutes away from my home.  One year ago today I called my mom's cell phone to hear her voice and wish her a happy birthday.  She was so happy.  She made it to August 27th.  "I knew you would, Mommy." I said with a twinge of sarcasm.  Of course she was going to have another birthday.  It was only Lymphoma.

The phone call didn't last long, she was out at dinner with the rest of the family.  I should have been there.  I should have explained my situation to my boss.  I should have just left.  But instead I sat in my room waiting for my nightly responsibilities to begin.  Looking back, I don't remember what I did that night.  Quite frankly, I don't give a crap.  It doesn't matter, it didn't matter.  All I remember is falling asleep that night was hard.  Not because I was sad not to be home, but because I was so self-absorbed, so caught up in the mess I had made.

On August 26th we made bars of soap as an activity.  I made a pink one with lavender flowers in it.  I knew my mom would have loved it.  I was going to wrap it up and give it to her as soon as I got home.  But I lost it.  I never found it.  I never gave her a birthday present.

And now it's August 27th.  I'm sitting alone in my bedroom,  one hour and fifteen minutes away from America's Keswick.  I went out to dinner tonight, but Mommy wasn't there.  We had a cake with custard and fresh strawberries, topped with lots and lots of pink and white flowers.  We all just sat there, staring at it.  Nobody wanted to touch it.  Probably because it's just not right to have cake without the special birthday person not there.

I miss hearing my mom walk in the door and setting her keys on the table.  I miss her complaining about the dishes not getting done.  I miss her walking up the stairs to bring me a shirt that somehow got mixed up in her laundry.  I miss her sitting on the end of my bed, commenting on my massive amounts of dirty clothes, and then in the same breath, complementing my picture of Andrew.  I miss walking in on her kneeled beside her bed praying.  I miss her giving me a hug and saying "You're a good Doobie".

Mommy, I love you.  I can't wait to see.  If I could, I would have a countdown of days til I get to give you a hug (just like the ones you and I would make for me seeing Andrew).  I miss you so much, but I love you even more than that.

Because Pink is Her Favorite; Because it Reminds Me of Her.

I didn't get the "dorm room experience" last year, I won't this year, and by the time Junior and Senior year roll around, I won't want it. So I kind of created my own "experience" by completely redecorating my bedroom. It still has pink walls, and is still Paris themed. But I now have a new bed, new sheets, new chair, new lights, and new end tables. It feels like new everything, quite honestly.

I really like my new room, but I think my favorite part is the pink daisy that's sitting on the pink end table.

Sweet Serenades.

sing me to sleep and I will be the content.
hold my hand through the night and I will be safe.

what would happen if you sing me to sleep while holding my hand?
I hope I find out.

The Ocean is Salty, Just Like Tears.

God, I know it's selfish, but I want to get married, grow old, and die in my husband's arms.

Forget love, I just want you to make sense to me tonight.
Forget words, I just want you to make sense to me tonight.
-Anchor & Braille

Losing My Grip.

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house
The wind makes this place creak, the lights they are flickering.
The moon she is lurking, the clock it stopped working
At a quarter past three.
There's something dancing here in the shadows
And I wish it were us.

You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight.
You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight.
Tonight.
Tonight.

Can't get your memory, off of my mind, my mind.
Just want your heartbeat, on top of mine, of mine.
There's something dancing, here in the shadows
And I wish it were us.

You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight.
You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight.
Tonight.
Tonight.

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house.
Your spirit I can't see, but I still believe
I can feel your breath on me.

You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight.
You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight.
Tonight.
Tonight.

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house.

Stupid Birds.

Is it weird that a part of me enjoys embracing pain and sadness?

There's a certain song that I played over and over again many months ago because I thought it was melancholy, but sweet. Lonely, but comforting. I suppose I liked the dismal lyrics mixed with its ironically catchy beat. I sang it to myself, played it on repeat, memorized its every ebb and flow. It became some what of an obsession.

Over the years I have found refuge in music in times of uncertainty, in times of depression, in times of mourning. Usually it's one song in particular. In fact, I think I have a song for each of the major changes in my life. Even though I once listened to them constantly, now that the event has passed and time has elapsed, I can't even recall the last time I listened to one of those "monumental therapists". I guess because I don't want to return to that place of emotional distress. Makes sense.

But this one song floated into my head today as I cleaned out my computer files from this past fall. At first I was excited that I even remembered the song existed. Booyah for rediscovering songs! However as I hummed it to myself and continued deleting files, I remembered why that song had settled in my head. Suddenly I was not excited, but disgusted. I wanted nothing more than to forget the song, and more importantly forget all the memories attached to it.

And yet here I am, listening to it on repeat.

So is it strange that I welcome this pathetically sad and hopelessly romantic song with all of the painful baggage it carries back into my life?

I guess I'll never know why sparrows love the snow.

-A Perspective.

A Day to Remember.

"Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it; for this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins." Matthew 22:26-28

As Liam and I sat down in the pew for church this morning, he leaned in and whispered excitedly, "Next week I'm being baptized!". A huge smile swept across my face as I gave him a hug. I am so excited for him. He asked me a few weeks ago when it would be "his turn" to be baptized. He accepted Christ as Savior a couple years ago after VBS. He had been asking Mommy some questions and he decided to say a prayer and join God's family. We haven't had any recent baptisms, so I know that this is something Liam has been thinking about and waiting for. He knows that it is an important step, but he can't wait to go to the class next Sunday to find out exactly what is going to happen during the service as he publicly declares his decision to follow Jesus Christ.

I could see it in the way his eyes lit up when he said it was finally his time to be baptized. He is so excited.

Today was also Lord's Supper. Now, up until this point Liam has not taken part in the service. But today, without any instruction, or questioning, he took a piece of bread, cup of juice and partook in the Lord's Supper. I was taken aback at first. He was so eager to take a small piece of matzah bread and tiny cup of grape juice. But then it occurred to me, Liam has been watching everyone do this for years and now today after realizing that he would be baptized soon and understanding the seriousness of the ceremony chose to not only partake, but was excited! I then thought to myself... how often do adults just pass the elements, or consume them, void of any meaning.

It makes sense now. "For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” Mark 10:14-15

Oh to be young at heart, willing to accept, eager to serve, and excited to change.

-A Perspective