We are definitely people who need human connection. And not just, “hey, how are you?” kinda connection, but real and true interaction with each other. The kind you get when you sit and talk, usually over food and drink it seems, with friends and sometimes with people you’ve just met or are new to your world. Somehow, in everyone, we find something in which we can connect. Something that is uniquely common in human beings. Now we can choose to ignore this connection very easy. There are definitely people in which our connection is weak at best. But, there is still something in which we could relate to that person if we chose. A struggle, a fear, a weakness, a history. This connection with people has been lacking in my life and it is resulting in a further need to retract from interaction, a further need to isolate myself, to stay focused only on me and my hurts, my problems, my needs. This lack of connection isn’t because I have a lack friends around that I can and do connect with when I’m with them. It’s the lack of opportunity to spend time with them and divulge the true me or to listen to the true them right now. We all have so many good excuses. We all are really very busy and very tired. Some of us literally interact with people all day, but we’re playing a different role with these people. The manager role, teacher role, nurse role, sales role, secretary role, business owner role, cook role, etc. etc. And yes, the mom and dad role. For those of us who stay home to run our household full time, interaction may or may not be constant (depending on if your kids are at home all day or at school) but connection, at least for me, tends to me very minimal. And thus isolation sets in. Isolation is a very cruel form of punishment. It’s actually documented fact to be one of the cruelest forms of punishment with prisoners. I’m sure there are many excellent research papers out there to describe in great deal why isolation is so detrimental to the mind. I can only comment on what it is doing to mine. And probably, what it does to most of us. When I am left with no one to talk to or to listen to but myself, day after day after day, I will only hear and talk back to constant negative evaluations of myself. For me, it is unceasing. And I can be told a billion times that I need to stop this negative talk, replace it with positive talk (real Truth talk) and I will try, but that dark critical judgmental voice is very loud and tireless. Where does this voice come from? It’s very persuasive and the proof it provides is hard to counter. I mean, I am out of shape, tired all the time, my kids are spoiled, fight all time, have little chores in which they get away with not doing all the time, I have no paying job to contribute to our finances, I rarely cook for our family….etc. and so forth. These are concrete facts. And they seam too great to conquer in light of the many situations and complications there are in my life. In anyone’s life really. So where do they come from? This criticism this negative self talk? I could blame Satan, as Eve did in the garden. Say it’s all his fault. But Satan just set up the machine by which our world operates. The crazy thing is, we turn the gears, we provide the fuel and energy to keep this crazy machine going. What does this machine produce? NOTHING. But what it promises to produce is self worth. And do we ever power this machine. Our fallenness loves to keep us in a place that denies our true worth and replaces it with the need to prove it. Even those of you like me who claim and hold tight to our Christian faith, constantly fall back into the roll of denying our uniqueness and trying to prove our goodness. What do I mean about denying our uniqueness? I mean we are all trying to be basically the same. A well known, “worthy” person who changes the course of the lives of people all over the world. Whether it be with money, words, sacrifice, power, fame, all of the above or many unlisted, we want to be KNOWN, to be remembered. To be significant, valuable. We fuel this machine with blood, sweat and tears. Literally! We must be fit and in shape. We need to be running 1/2 marathons or marathons. We should be working out, drinking nasty tasting protein drinks, eating organic, paleo, gleuten free, vegan, you name it. We should be fashionable. Our hair done right, makeup on smooth. We should be color blocking, accessorizing, adding prints and patterns. We should have flawless skin. We should be getting botox, restalyn and cosmetic surgery to help with that. We should travel lots, we should ski, dance, swim, scuba, climb a tall mountain. We should read to our kids, all of them, 30 minutes or more night, we should play games with them, we should cook meals and eat around the table, we should limit t.v. and video games, we should have chores and allowances. We should own a house, we should have granite counter tops and stainless steal appliances. We should definitely have antique bronzed fixtures and hardware on our cabinetry. We should have 2 ovens. We should have a high paying job. A CV or resume that proves that. We should have achievements in our field and accolades by our peers. We should volunteer. We should serve at a homeless shelter, foster a child, travel to impoverished countries and dig wells. For us Christians, we should live boldly our faith. We should host Bible studies, sign up for mission trips. We should give our money freely and generously. We should pray with our kids and before every meal and with our spouse and always, unceasing. We should repent of our sins. We should always remember we are sinners and not perfect, yet! Oh what else is there! This is just the tiny list of things I can think of right off the top of my head that I think I should have or be doing. Wait, I forgot. I should be humble enough to recognize that all that I just mentioned isn’t what I “really want” and then tell people, “I could care less if I ever had that. It’s not important and doesn’t make people happy”. And yet, ALL of us crank those gears everyday trying to live up to some perfect worthy standard. We feed it with our sweat and tears of failure because we can’t live up to this elusive facade of a worthy person. We teach our children at tiny young ages how to crank these same gears. Why else do we worry about what preschool they get in, signing them up for every sport we can every season of the year. Piling on foreign languages, music lessons, singing lessons, boy scouts, Sunday school, debate club, science club, tutoring sessions. Constantly hovering over, blaming and badgering their teachers to make sure our kids get A’s in school. Coercing them to volunteer, to sign up for AP classes and excel to make sure they get into the “best” colleges. Ahhhhh, what are we doing to ourselves and our children. What is so wrong with a kid who doesn’t do any sports. Didn’t learn a foreign language while at school. No AP classes. C average. Doesn’t go to college but chooses a vocational career in which they enjoy what they do and pay the bills. Yep, you’re right. They will go unnoticed. And that kills us as parents. In actuality, that child is more unique then all of us on this crazy “self worth” stairmaster.
We also add serious fuel to this machine with our criticisms and judgments of people who “fail” (and who doesn’t) at living a worthy life. I think this is why self talk is so real to us. Because we’ve hard these exact same criticisms before. We’ve said them about others. We ignore those who don’t excel to our crazy standards. We criticize parents whose kids are overweight or whose kids are acting up while in public. We criticize the parents who kids don’t play perfect while at the McDonalds play place. Of course you’re being criticized for bringing your kid to McDonalds in the first place. We criticize people who feed their kids organic foods and the ones who don’t. We have no sympathy for the overweight, no sympathy for the depressed or the anxious, no sympathy for those who don’t do what the world has said we should all do. I can’t eat with chopsticks and I don’t know how to order sushi. How could I be so unrefined and uncultured. So I’m criticized for being suburban, plain, conservative. Course we criticize all you city dwellers for being so indulgent, self centered, constantly on parade. It doesn’t stop. In order to have self worth, we have to be better than someone. To be better than someone, we choose to tear them down. Now we have worth.
Here is the reality, if we choose to see it, if we choose to remember it. We have worth. Had it from the moment of conception. Not because we have anything of worth to offer this world. But because we were made with worth knitted into our soul our being by our Creator. It is a part of us whether we recognize it or not. Whether you believe in God or not. We have intrinsic worth of such magnitude that it escapes our earthly minds. It’s just true. It’s reality. Our kids have such worth, no matter what they accomplish or not, more worth than the best meaning parent on this planet could ever bestow upon or recognize in their child. Whether your child reads at 4 or reads at 8 or never will be able to read. Whether he or she ever can play a sport, sing, dance, compute, whatever, your kid has massive worth. And so do I. So do you. I will never have a fitness magazine photoshopped body, I don’t ever want to run a marathon, I currently stay at home and clean the house, do laundry, volunteer minimally at my child’s school, have flawed skin, little energy, weak sex drive, don’t cook, hate scrapbooking, dislike crafts, love dance but can’t do it like I did 20 years ago, LOVE Jesus but am an imperfect follower and example of my faith, I drive a really dirty and old mini van, haven’t volunteered at homeless shelters or mission trips, struggle to follow politics and economics, weak at best at knowing my history, love science though, am terrible at memorizing scripture and don’t have a cause that I’m active in to name a few things. And yet I, as are you, am in reality of more worth than if all the stars and grains of sands were flawless diamonds. That is rubbish compared to who I am, who you are. I will probably die (actually I will die) and within a couple of generations will not be remembered by even my own family line. So I can add my energy, blood, sweat, tears, criticism and hatred to Satan’s machine or I can really connect with the 1 person who sees me as I really am. Worthy of dying for while I offer nothing in return. Worthy of dying for simply because He made me with such worth that He gave up his throne in heaven to die for a girl who forgets Him and ignores Him more than I remember Him. This is where I can connect with people, even when I cannot interact with them. We are all feeding the machine desperately trying to find our worth our importance. May we all listen for His still quiet voice, never shouted, never forced on us speaking truth to us always. May we let go of the gear and crank handles of the machine and rest and be with people. Letting them know that no matter what they are doing, what they have, what they like and don’t like what they accomplish and what they fail at are all worthy because it makes them, them! You, or your child who never makes the high school team let alone college or professional and doesn’t attend some top 50 school and who never becomes CEO of some company has intrinsic and great worth. We wouldn’t hate that upper 1% of society or care what they pay or don’t pay if we could stop assigning to them some great worth because of their financial status. We say we hate that type of wealth, we call them greedy, we demand fairness! But why? Because we feed the machine that says wealth equals worth. That owning a home equals worth, that traveling the world equals worth, that cable t.v., flat screen t.v.’s iPads and iPhones, Blackberrys, Lexus’, yachts, private jets, closets with thousands of pairs of shoes and millions of dollars of coutre clothing equals worth. It doesn’t. So stop trying to strive for it. Stop demanding that what others have they share with you. People who know their worth, share their worth. People who don’t know, don’t share. There are a lot of miserable rich powerful people. And we feed them their poison. Have mercy on them and stop fueling the machine that produces in them the need to have billions. Have mercy on them. Have mercy on me who has thousands and still searches for worth. Mercy on me who has a beautiful warm home, always food available, clothes, entertainment, cars, can travel and yet is still exhausted because my blood sweat and tears is pored into a scam instead of into people.
Even if you are all alone, you have a connection. Even if you don’t believe in God yet, you are connected to me to begin with.
You have worth!
I am unique and I am the same as you! A child of God.

I go to prayer often, but always every night, and one of the many things I pray for is contentment. But actually, I’m not sure what I’m praying for, what that means, or do I really want it. I’m assuming it is some sort of satisfaction with life. This, I do not have and I’m sure I’m not alone in this struggle. So how do I feel about “life in general” right now? Surely, it is the opposite of content…I feel regret. I could have said many other feelings like hollow, void, lost but those are all the symptoms of my one main, one core issue. Regret. Regret: to feel sorrow or remorse for; to think of with a sense of loss, disappointment or dissatisfaction. I feel regret for just about everything I do. I regret that I regret because it is so contrary to the Christian life. It is such a disregard for the path God has me on. My biggest regret is that I feel I have compromised my identity. The selfish me now stomps my foot and says “NO!, That’s not how I wanted my life to be!” I gave up more of me in my 20’s and 30’s then I wanted to. I sacrificed dreams and passions and normal youthful adventures for?…for…For everything that I’m mad about now. For “right”, “good”, “Christian”, “moral”. For my husband, my children, for God. The problem is I have been trying too hard. Trying to be perfect and good. Trying to show my worth to God who already knows my great worth. He sees me as far more worthy than I see myself. He made me, He died for me. He offers me everything. “All that I have is yours” He speaks to me. But I still regret that I gave up so much of what makes me, me. And there is not getting some of it back. I will never dance like I could of in my 20’s and now with Ballroom gone, even if someday I could restart, I’ll never get to the level I think I was capable of. I regret I even started. I regret I quit. Truly, I do not have contentment with my life. For this I ask for forgiveness. I am the bratty child not happy with the gifts she’s been given. God, if I only knew you better.
So I pray for contentment, to be satisfied with the life I’ve been given. To be satisfied. Sounds stale. Definitely doesn’t sound like the life God wants for us as spoken of in the Bible. No, those lives are overflowing, abundant, joyous, uncontainable, prosperous, passionate. Lives full of everything. Pain and pleasure. Anticipatory lives. Ever yearning for lives. Lives so full of the reality of God, the reality of His love for His children, for them specifically. The reality that all the stuff I regret not doing, not experiencing is the stale life. But this is where I’m trapped right now. In a place where I have cerebral knowledge of God and His kingdom and His reality. I know him academically. But the deep, intimate heart knowledge of Him I strain to grasp. Or rather, I fight to allow. My body literally aches at the loss of dance in my life. My muscles, my mind, my dreams feel tortured to me as I mourn the dancer I wish I could be or could’ve been. I still long for earthly desires to be met. Earthly wishes like fame, success, competition, performance. I love to perform, to entertain, to inspire. I still want to be wanted. Until I can give up wanting these things more than wanting to really know my God I’m stuck with regret and endless prayers for this elusive contentment. Maybe I shouldn’t pray for contentment. At least, definitely not for satisfaction of the status quo. I shouldn’t be content with the relationship I have with God now. I regret keeping Him at a safe distance. Oh to have the courage to love God more than the things of this world. But right now I fight. And this fight between flesh and spirit is unceasing and exhausting, and painful. It’s confusing. But these symptoms of feeling hollow, void, empty, lost is what I’m being torn down to. So who am I? To the world-nothing. To Him who created me-EVERYTHING. My prayer will be that I be filled by the reality of God, of Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit. This is the only way I can let go of regret. Please God, fill me and all the others who have their own unique circumstances for which they live with the same regret and emptiness. Amen

I am.  I am also a Hater. But that is another blog.  To begin with, I’m not used to assigning positive attributes to myself.  But I am beginning to believe that is not right.  We all have beautiful and positive attributes to ourselves.  We were created in the image of God.  There is no way He does not exude himself though us.  So, I am a lover.  I absolutely LOVE people.  The human race.  I especially find myself drawn to those who are not looked upon by the masses as anything of worth. I constantly find myself wondering about the man or woman on the corner begging for money. The “Useless”, I love them. True, they may have made poor decisions, and may continue to make poor decisions regarding alcohol, drugs, sex, money. But when do I not make poor decisions. Mostly I wonder about their mind.  I can’t imagine the rejection they feel.  The loneliness.  Knowing that they are looked upon as the rejects of society.  I love the “Ugly”.  Those of us who have been seen as not attractive, even ugly, our character judged by our looks.  I see them and see beauty.  I see kindness in their face. I also wonder about their minds as well.  Maybe I make them sadder then they really are.  But I wonder about the pain they’ve endured, I wonder about the self talk they torture themselves with.  Wondering if they are worthy of anyone, worthy of goodness, worthy of love.  I love the Shy.  I love knowing that they soak up so much more of the world then I will ever see.  They concentrate on their surroundings, they really look into people around them.  I think they see the real persons in front of them while the rest of us see only the facades, the characters created.  I love the Angry.  Why are they so angry? They may have all the worldly things that we think should make anyone “happy”. But they obviously lack real companionship, love, friendship, faith, trust.  Who has hurt them so much? I want them to know that I love them.  Not like a husband loves a wife, but as one human should love and care for another.  To not want pain, anger, fear, destruction, sin, misery, loneliness, separation, death to consume anyone. I love the Beautiful.  For they are beautiful.  One can’t help to look and stare.  I should not envy or hate them.  They were created with a beauty that I should praise God for giving them. Since when is beauty bad.  Besides, have you stopped to notice the beauty in so many men and woman around us. There are so many beautiful people in this world. Look past the glasses, or the messy hair. Perhaps they have no makeup on. Maybe their clothes are dated and don’t fit right. But they are BEAUTIFUL.  I think I confuse beautiful and sexy.  It’s easy to do that in this world.  Men and women are beautiful only if they are sexy.  The chiseled jaw, the wide shoulders and developed muscles of a man. The curves of a woman, cleavage, long thin legs.  And of course the appropriate attire to cling to these attributes and reveal as much of them as possible. Don’t get me wrong, these men and woman have beauty, but it is revealed in sexiness, sensuality.  Beauty does not have to be revealed and shown that way.   This is why I love the characters in movies who throughout are seen as average at best but then are revealed in such wondrous beauty at the end.  They were always there. Always beautiful. It takes dressing them up to make the rest of us see them.  But I see you. And I wonder about you.  I love the Talented.  The gifted, the athletic.  Such amazement you give me.  To be able to cultivate your talent and perfect it and present it to others for their enjoyment or their critique.  I love the Poor. To work and struggle and to have the necessities. If only they can see they have what they need.  If only I could see I have more than I need.  I love the Rich.  The providers to many. The employers, philanthropists.  If only they could see they have what others need.  I love the Sick and the Suffering.  The pain and fear they endure.  The life lessons they are receiving. Sadly, it is only through loss, pain, death that we finally tune our ears to hear God speaking to us.  Why do I ignore him when all seems well? But I thank Him for the struggles and torment I’ve been through.  For it is then that I see the gift of life, the beauty around me, the blessings bestowed on me. The purpose of living. The wonder of creation.  It is through suffering that I have learned to love the Useless, the Ugly, they Shy, the Angry, the Beautiful, the Talented, The Poor, the Rich, the Sick and the Suffering, the Wicked, the Wise, the Spoiled, the Content, the Lost and the Found. For I am all of these.  And I have learned to love myself.

I Am a Lover. And I pray I am NOT unique in this.

UniquelytheSame

I must acknowledge that one of my personalities is that of anadulteress.  I most definitely think and desire for something more than my husband, even at times, more than my Creator.  I know this now, rather I should say, I am learning this about myself because this thing I really want all the time has, temporarily at least, been taken from me.  Now when I tell you that this passion, this lust, this desire I have is for dance, many of you will disregard this as something of any consequence.  The problem is, it has most definitely affected my marriage and my faith.  How? Because I want to dance all the time.  I don’t want to be at home, not with my family, not studying Truth, not doing anything that hasn’t to do with dance.  It consumes my thoughts.  I listen to music whenever I can and I imagine dancing to it.  I watch and re-watch videos of dancing, mine and others.  I daydream about becoming excellent and competing and winning.  But all for what purpose?  I do think I have to explain my desire more clearly.  It hasn’t always been this way.

Almost 17 years ago, I married my husband.  I was 20 years old and 6 days.  Young, young, young.  I was most definately in love with him.  I willing did anything I could for him, for us.  Though I loved dancing, and was dancing professional jazz at the time, I did what I thought I was “supposed” to do.  I quit.  It was time for me to do the “responsible” thing.  I needed to concentrate on my studies at the University, I needed a job, and I needed, no…wanted, to spend every moment with my husband.  Dance was a passion, yes!  But it was “extra-curricular”.  This wasn’t something I could continue spending hours a day at.  Right?  Well, it seemed right at the time.

Every once in awhile along these last 17 years, I would go take some jazz, ballet, or lyrical classes.  I even signed up for classes and suddenly was asked to perform with their company at a performance, which I did!  And I loved it, BUT I was pregnant with my first at that time.  After performing it was back to what I was “supposed” to do, and that wasn’t dance while pregnant.  I’m not blaming anyone.  I was ecstatic to be expecting our first child.  We had tried for just over 2 years and I couldn’t wait to be a mom!

Fast forward to 2 years ago.  That is how it feels.  Like a fast forward.  I now have 3 children.  I stay home to raise them. And I haven’t danced in years.  I sacrificed this aspect of my life for the lives of my family.  Always for others.  I say this not in a proud way.  I say it in a defeated way.  I realize my heart was never in the right place.  Year after year I denied myself the pleasure of dancing.  Because I thought I was “supposed” to.  Dancing never seemed the “right” sort of thing to do in the Christian life.  I thought.  No one I knew danced.  No one really ever wanted to go dancing with me.  So, I figured, maybe it’s not the best thing to be doing.

And then…I was dead.  Dead spiritually, emotionally, physically, in my marriage, in my friendships.  I was gone.  Daily living was brutal and futile.  There was no joy in ANYTHING.  Not my children, not my husband (who at this time was rarely home…that’s another blog) not in friendships, not in food, exercise….nothing.

I will tell you about these last 2 years in a future blog.  Needless to say, despite the conviction I had that God was EVERYTHING I needed, I obviously didn’t really have faith in that.  Because my TRUE love, DANCE, had not been there.  It was in dance that I found my identity.  It was in dance that I felt beautiful, alive, attractive, noticed, talented, desired.  It was in dance that I received the attention I so desperately sought after.  My Creator no longer had substance in my life.  I cried out to Him all the time, but I ignored His words.  I ignored the fact that He made me who I am.  He made me the dancer.  He put within me the passion, the rhythm, syncopation, structure, strength.  But I ignored Him and instead heard only the lies of destruction.

Then 1 year ago, almost to the day, I started dancing again! Ballroom dancing!  I had healed in many ways from the deep darkness of the previous year.  From the darkness of many many years to be quite honest. 

It was like air had been put back into my lungs after suffocating for so long.  I couldn’t get enough.  The feelings of pure joy and satisfaction and life were overwhelming and over flowing in me. Ballroom dancing brought out in me such incredible emotion and feeling.  That at times is startled me.  I danced as much as I could. I practiced at home, as I was pushing the grocery cart. I was constantly on the Internet looking up costumes, makeup, videos, competitions, shoes.  Oh the shoes!  My whole persona changed actually.  I began wearing makeup, dressing up, dressing sexy, wearing accessories.  Through dance I met people and friends who enjoyed what I enjoyed and I finally felt understood and accepted. I met one of the best friends of my entire life.  She knows who she is! 

But do you notice something, that I didn’t at the time?  My happiness was coming from a created thing.  It was coming from what I received from the external.  Not from an internal and eternal sense of contentment and peace.  And it wasn’t coming from my husband or my family.  In fact, they were getting in the way.  Oh and worse.  They reminded me of the years lost.  Constant reminder of my age now and the years of youth gone.  Family wasn’t just nothing anymore, now they were something to be angry at.

So my Creator took it away again.  I had to move away from the place and the dance and the people that brought me such great bliss.  I had to move far far away for my husband’s job.  Another sacrifice I must endure for someone else.

And yes, I thought I wouldn’t survive this.  Or at the very least, our marriage wouldn’t survive.  But here I am now, catching you up on many many years so you can follow with me as I learn to appreciate the gift of dance in my life while keeping my eyes and my heart and my devotion on the Gift-or.

I am an Adulteress!  I cheated on my God and my husband.  Dance is his name.  Dance is my idol.  Well….dance is one of my idols. And I’m not sure I can give it up.  My prayer is that I won’t have to, but that I can dance with a greater Purpose and deeper passion then before, because I recognize this as a blessing, a gift. And just one of the many gifts in my life.  With my husband and my children being even better gifts.  With opened eyes, mind and heart to my Creator being the greatest gift.

Though I feel unique in my struggle.  I have a feeling I am the same as many of you.

Really not sure what I’m doing or why exactly. Except that I’m beginning to realize I’m probably not as different from most people. And yet, I’m going to spend the next year journaling who I am, so I can appreciate and recognize the uniqueness that I have. I was “supposed” to start on January 1st. “Supposed to” is one of my most frequently used and thought word. For some reason I believe I am “supposed to” do many things. The problem is, I’m not very satisfied doing all my “supposed to’s”. So I start my journaling late and have a bit of feeling of stupidity, lameness, failure, etc. etc. Crazy…except for me, nobody knows I’m doing this and no one but me knows that I’m “late” in starting this. This may be an area in which I should let go of feeling I am “supposed” to do so many things. But for now…it is who I am. A person who constantly creates things I need to do, or images of who I am “supposed” to be, or what a I believe a truley unique is “supposed” to look like.

If I were to be asked right now, “who are you?” I would have to say….???? not sure really. I’m a person who enjoys being alone a lot. Would love to be in quiet, alone, solitude just listening to music and day dreaming. But I am also a person who loves to be around people and be witty and funny and loved. I LOVE to dance!! I love to push the envelope in conversations, I love to flirt. I really love to fantasize. Not in a pornographic way…I daydream my life as scenes in a movie. Almost every instance I am in (either during or after) I will imagine it as if it were a movie. Was there meaning in that experience? Was it a joyous, frighting, exhilerating, romantic, troublesome moment? Will the people I interacted with be changed or ponder about me or our meeting? If I was alone…like I am now, am I still being watched and viewed and is what I’m doing significant? Hmm. I think to much. It’s because of this way I think that leads me to have many days of feeling unsatisfied. Whose life looks like a movie? And yet, I do believe I am known and seen. And one day my life will be reviewed and critiqued.

So confusing I am. So much faith and lack of faith in one person. So much sadness and yet apparent excitement for life. It’s multiple personalities except with total awareness of all the different personalities.

Can’t wait to figure out if one of those persons is the real me.

Or maybe I am all them.

UniquelyTheSame