• artsy fartsy,  Family Matters,  Life Lessons,  spilling my guts

    Prayer Beads

    prayerbeads2

    Caution: This post contains controversial topics that I’m super sensitive about.

    PART A

    The elephant in the room that has stopped me from blogging (and going home to visit my family…ugh, I know!) is that I’m dating a man who is not a Christian. (!!!)

    There. I said it.  This is a huge big deal for me and my family and all the friends who’ve helped me leave my marriage.  Many people who care deeply about me think I am making another mistake.  I’ve pulled away from people that I know won’t approve. Of course it hurts.

    Maybe my fears are worse than reality.

    He’s kind. He listens and understands when I don’t expect him to. He is a philosophy major so we talk about my  faith and his lack of faith often. It’s not swept under the rug.  Our future is messy and I can’t see beyond the next curve. Since I’m a five-year-plan kind of woman this scares me, of course.

    However, I think we are in each other’s lives for a reason.

    He has a daughter Bug’s age. We see each other at school and the park and we even have play-dates sometimes. It’s terribly convenient but of course we are cautious. He’s an ex too and nobody wants to replace anybody.

    *     *     *

    PART B

    A lot of you know that Bug struggles with anxiety. To sum up a long story in a short sentence: It’s been a rough year.

    Her dad and I waffle between  telling her to tough it out and worrying that we aren’t offering her the help that she needs. We’re so afraid that she’ll be labeled, held back, treated differently if we give her special treatment but then when you see the fear in her eyes, and the fact that she can’t even walk up the ramp to her second grade class without dry heaving, you just want to wrap her up in your arms and take her home and let her finish out the year home-schooled.

    But we don’t think that is the answer. We think it would make it worse actually but of course we could be wrong.

    That’s the hardest part for us as parents is the second-guessing.

    We’ve talked to professionals.  We make sure she gets balanced meals and plenty of sleep. We’ve found comfort in prayer and reading the bible. Bug more so than me, even. Bug has become a regular little Pilgrims Progress requesting Proverbs and Fear-Not verses daily. We’ve tried mediation, and all kinds of re-setting the brain tricks. We’ve read books and worked workbooks.  We’ve pretty much talked to everyone under the sun.  We’ve found a therapist and had one get-to-know-you meeting.  I have mixed feelings.

    Her school is working with us (which is great) and some things are getting better.  Some things work. Some things don’t work. Some things work until they don’t.

    I finally understand how people feel when they say they don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ve had so many strangers reach out to help Bug. She’s so adorable and everyone loves her.  I totally get that and appreciate their intent but sometimes I just want to stop strangers and say, Yes, I have looked into your fish-oil-sweat-of-bees-vitamin-supplement-drops-electro-accupuncture-shock-therapy-musical-bears-yoga-pilates-ballet-therapy. Yes, I’ve tried to talking about “my happy place” and it doesn’t work!  Please, just stop talking to me and let me get through my day with my crying child. And then I secretly punch them inside my head.

    Deep breath.

    Maybe I’m suffering from a little anxiety myself. (See part A) I dreamt I accidentally let another women’s children drown the other night. It was horrible. And then last night when a car alarm kept going off every twenty minutes between the hours of 11pm and 3 am, I dreamt I was in a parking lot maze with various members of my family jumping out from behind cars as zombies. I dreamt that if I could just find the car that was honking and blow it up with my bazooka, I could finally save Bug and escape to the next level of life.

    *    *     *

    Part C

    But I didn’t write this post because I wanted to let you inside my brain. I wanted to share this craft that my friend made with Bug and his daughter. It was very thoughtful and it touched my heart.

    He’d been thinking about Bug a lot and he wanted to share something that has helped him over the years: Prayer beads.

    This is where I have to take a moment and talk to my family and friends who are conservative Christians.

    I’m not converting to Islam.  He is not even Muslim and even IF we were ever to blend our lives (which I can’t see because it’s behind a curve still!!!)  he would never ever ever want us to convert to Islam. He is an American. He’s lived here most of his life and he wasn’t even raised Muslim. His parents are non-practicing Muslims. He’s not going to beat me or make me walk six paces behind him.  I’m not going to start praying on a prayer rug or hang a clock on the wall that wails at me at three in the morning. I hate that I even have to preface this sweet craft with defensive disclaimers. I hate that I even have to be controversial and take on this subject. You know me. I hate this.

    I know some of you don’t understand why I’m even feeling defensive but I have friends at all spectrums of faith and there have been times in my life where I have been that very conservative Christian and even taking a yoga class seemed like a way to open up my mind in ways I shouldn’t. I was not raised with prayer beads and they seem very Catholic (which I am not) and Muslim (which I am not). When I pray, I pray openly in sentences, not in repetition. I never understood prayer beads.

    But now I do. They don’t have to be beads that you say prayers with. You can pray with them of course but they are more of a way to say a mantra over and over without losing track of where you are.

    I remember when I was getting married I was a complete basket case (Bug doesn’t fall far from the tree) and Toby taught me to say over and over, “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” whenever I would start to panic.  It worked.  Sometimes when your mind gets stuck in a hamster wheel of worry, you have to stop it by forcing it to go down new paths.

    Prayer beads are something you can touch as you force your brain to go down new paths. As you push each bead around you say to yourself something positive. Bug says, “It’s going to be okay. Nobody is going to puke today.”

    prayerbeads3

    When my friend gave Bug the prayer beads that he made for her we went out to get frozen yogurt and made a production out of it. He explained how it helped him when he was going through rough times. It was really really sweet. Then later we went to his house and she made one for her friend who also suffers from anxiety.

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    They counted out pretty beads, lined them up in a pattern in a crack on the coffee table and then strung them together with very fine string. Then they wrapped the ends with embroidery floss and made a tassel. It was strange sitting back and not being in charge of a craft for once.

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    And then we went home.

    I’m sad that I had to mess up this really pretty craft with all my internal arguments. What a drag, right?

    Moving to Irvine has been a really big learning curve for me. We are surrounded by a lot of people from different countries with different faiths.  We’ve made so many new friends and opened our minds to so many new things.  Good things, not bad things!  New foods, new customs, new traditions, new feelings… it’s a new way of life. I like it. I’m happy here. Even though I feel like a foreigner sometimes, I feel like I belong here.

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    Part D

    I just want to say from my heart that I appreciate my past and everyone. I don’t want to turn my back on anyone. I’m just afraid of the criticism. I miss this blog. I want to let you into my life and how it is going. I really really do.  I also want to ask you to please try to understand.

    New things are scary but they aren’t always wrong.

  • Life Lessons,  party party

    Charis Party vs. Storm

    charisparty1

    When I was in fourth grade my mom had a Tupperware® party and I handed out pre-printed, corporate, fill-in-the-blank Tupperware party invitations to my classmates at school. In hindsight I realize that this was pretty brave of me because I don’t remember being really super tight with any of my girlfriends AND this was also the year that boys started “going out” with girls. I was really really shy and the whole world seemed very scary to me back then so the fact that I actually had the guts to hand out invitations to people my own age in my class was a pretty big deal.

    I think somewhere in my brain I thought that the word “party” meant it was cool and I completely spaced on the Tupperware part. Or maybe I really believed Tupperware was cool back then because my mom sold it and she was really funny when she stood up in front of a group and made jokes about using a fix-and-mix bowl as an umbrella.  She did have really cool wedge high heels back in those days. I remember them clearly.  I don’t remember loving Tupperware though.  I HATED my Tupperware lunch box with a PASSION!

    Anyway, I guess I figured this party was going to be really fun and all my friends would hang out.  My mom would just sell Tupperware to the parents (who of course would come too) on the side or something. I don’t know. My brain was as fuzzy back then as it is now trying to remember it all.

    As the day of the party loomed, my excitement grew. As I imagined all the fun we were going to have, I started to prepare in the only way I knew how: I punched some confetti, with my hole puncher. I punched all afternoon and saved it in a plastic bag. By the time I was done I had probably a cup or so of multicolored little punches. It was very exciting.

    You can probably guess what happened. Seven o’clock rolled around and nobody came. I sat on the fireplace in my Sunday best holding my bag of confetti with worry.  Finally, one friend showed up. She wasn’t even a friend I had invited. She was a friend of a friend who’s mom really wanted some Tupperware. At this point I was so glad to see this girl. I couldn’t wait to show her my big bag of confetti.

    While the moms talked Tupperware, we went in my room, opened up my big bag of confetti and threw it up in the air.

    Tah Dah!

    And that was that. There it was, all over my bedroom floor. The fun lasted for three seconds. Three seconds.  I think we scraped it all up and tried it again. But it still wasn’t much fun. I was sorely disappointed.

    Ever since that party I have become that person who will invite 50 friends so that ten will show up. Seriously.

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    So you can imagine how I felt as my “Authentic Thai Dinner” for The Charis Project loomed and one by one every single one of my rsvp-ing friends called and said they couldn’t make it because of various reasons. Epic storm, flooding canyons, tight money situations, sickness, babysitters gone extinct… Everyone had great excuses. My inner fourth-grader felt like crying.

    aaron

    Here Aaron had come all the way from Thailand (for other reasons, not just this party, of course), we’d bought all this food (which added up even though it was from an Asian market and remarkably cheap) and it was going to just be me, my friend who let me borrow his amazing house and Aaron eating Thai food all by ourselves.

    I wanted to go out into the garden and eat worms.

    The storm raged sprinkled on, mirroring my mood.

    And then somebody showed up! My old boss from that job I had over the summer at the invitation studio.  I think she felt sorry for me because she called her daughter, who just happened to be in the area, and she came too! Then two neighbors came by and another friend showed up with her eight-year-old daughter. So there we were, a small party of ten!

    And you know, it was actually perfect. Everyone sat down together and we listened to Aaron’s talk about The Charis Project with undivided attention. I had hoped that the party would be big enough so that giving money to a charity wasn’t going to be the main emphasis. I wanted everyone to enjoy the delicious food that Aaron cooked (with gusto), and have fun and if they felt like opening up their hearts and checkbooks it would be passive, not in your face. I didn’t want anyone to feel guilted into giving money.

    But then Aaron gave his talk and when you have to deal with children dying, you kind of get over your squeamishness about asking for money. He just put it out there. Thankfully, what they are doing in Thailand is pretty amazing and my friends really were interested. They asked what they could do to help and he just told them how it is: volunteering and money. That’s what will help the Charis Project.

    I don’t know how much anyone gave. I personally didn’t give anything other than my time and the groceries and decorations…which was kind of a lot but I like doing this sort of thing. However, I learned a big lesson: Don’t have parties in the winter!

    Just kidding! I mean, that is sort of true. But what I really learned is that I need to be okay with nobody showing up. It’s not a popularity contest. It’s a charity and I’m doing it because I believe in it.  I also learned another tidbit from Aaron. He said that the best way to get people to show up is to ask them to bring something specific. A table cloth, a special dish…something that they’d really feel bad about if they didn’t come.

    So don’t be surprised if I ask you to bring the main dish next time I have a party!

    (I’ll bring the confetti.)