The pain of being an outspoken women in a C of C world.

Life as a woman in a C of C isn’t easy. Life as a woman with opinions and the ability to speak her mind is painful.

I’ve been struggling with the “new church” it’s the old church with a new name.  Not too much has changed, a guitar, a drum of some sort, and a new meeting place.  If I change the paint on my house and hang new drapes nothing is really that different. I have the same opinions in my house. Right?  So why am I so sad I’m old enough to know this truth?  I was excited about the changes! A new name! The one that I submitted that God put on my heart years before! I stood up for leaving church of Christ on it! I thought that we needed to stand boldly about who we are! I was happy to have a change in music. The new worship minister slowed the music down and added more of the old stuff. I even told him that I thought that it was a good idea so that the changes weren’t so drastic.

 But it’s not better, not at all.

The minister has a token woman that he pulls out to show us he is progressive, look at me I let a woman preach.  He talks like he believes that woman are equal but when a woman who isn’t a “You’re the greatest minister” BLANK kisser speaks up he is floored. He can’t take it at all.

I’ve been told where to stand and who to talk to. I’ve been told to stay quiet about how I feel.

I apologized for speaking up; he brought it up several times. 

How can you stand up on a stage and preach forgiveness when you can’t forgive?

I’m not a perfect person but I forgive. Okay so I’m still working on the baby daddy and that woman he married, they hurt my kids and the mamma bear comes out. I’m working on it. I’ve spoken in confidence to him only to have those words repeated from the pulpit. He has yelled at me when I simply asked if one of the men was in the building because the guest speaker, the one standing next to him, wanted to use some equipment. That man cussed me out in front of my child and my minister set that up by talking behind my back and working it up. The man and I are fine, I forgave, he forgave, and we are fine.  

My children and I were asked to his home for dinner and I agreed to come, when I went to confirm and get the address I was told he would be out of town.  Okay, life happens.

I’ve put in years of service. I’m honestly am not sure how many. I’ve worked long hours; I did so because I believe in what I do. I believe that I made a difference. The men have cut down my work, oh they don’t think so at all.

Now we have more women doing what I do and that makes me happy I can take a break. The issue is that one woman has done a lot of taking and the men have listened and they have talked. They claimed that they didn’t but I do know better. I was called into a meeting that was an attack on me. They had no real reason to attack when it was all said and done.

The minister does know that he started treating me differently when I was going through a divorce.  What? You say. Yes, a worship minister did the same. Perhaps I made them feel uncomfortable or they thought I was wrong. I don’t know. I’m sure that I have changed, I know I have. I was raised to speak up; I stopped because an abusive man hates that in a woman. Now I speak up.

I also loved the minister who came before him; he’s great at challenging me. He and I had a relationship. He has just the right amount of sarcasm. My dad once talked to me about a sermon and a couple of things he had said. He made a joke about eating donuts and drinking diet soda then threw in a democrat joke. I laughed and explained that it was all aimed at me. I miss him a lot.

Why stay so long? After all I have choices, this is Oklahoma we love our churches and banks. You’d laugh if you were from these parts.

I’ve stayed for my son. I’ve stayed for the people that I love. I’ve now made new friends and I hate the idea of not spending time with them. My heart hurts from the pull but I know that I need to seek Jesus somewhere else.

‘cause Bill didn’t raise his daughter to keep her mouth shut. His response was “I should hope not!”

I work with special kids

Now I’m back. I’ve missed being here; I hope that you enjoy what I have to say.


I work with special needs teens, something that in no way would surprise my family. My Grandmother was one of the first teachers in our area to teach special needs kids in a classroom. My dad worked with juveniles in trouble. I stared by working as an in-home therapist with autistic children.

 I loved my job. It was different every day, new challenges new struggles, and lots of love. The hardest part of it all was the parent’s struggles. Moms that shut it all out, a mom who took the brunt of it all on herself, dads that worked late or went out of town a lot, not all of them mind you, some came in the house with a smile as if all was great. I can’t imagine what like was like at times for these parents but I saw the struggles up-close, in seeing those struggles I have a very different view then some of my team members have. When conversations come up about why a parent might have sent a child to school that morning, I have some insight. Some days a parent can take no more. I try not to judge a family; I got to leave a client’s house with the knowledge that I could find peace at home.

The parents of special needs kids have a lot going on and it goes on every moment in their lives. They don’t just wake up and take the kids without a much planned out day with how to do recon and recovery. Along the way were tears and laughs when I did in-home, most of all love. Some parents are working hard to prepare for their child’s future while others seem to just be treading water, they are just doing what the know to do.

My job is wonderful. I was hugged so many times today; I laughed, and did productive things. At the end of my day I was glad to go home to spend time with my children. I have one in college and one in high school, my life is blessed.

Welcome back welcome home

I so miss this space. A lot has happened in my world and I'm ready to talk about it. I don't expect a lot of people to take note that I am back but it's a nice place to talk about life. Welcome.

Steel life

Stainless steel greets the opening of my tomb . . .

my solace . . .

my haven

My resolve fades

My time to release . . .

once again I'm in this box

I kick the wall and allow tears to caress my face

When the doors open I pull myself together and find my car

I’d like to know why but God won’t tell me . . .

not now . . .

not on this earth . . .

And someday it won’t matter

I know I’m strong enough

I have no choice to be anything else

Tonight I tell my children

When morning comes with a jolt of reality from a sweet dream

I once again will stand in front of the steel doors

I allow not one tear after the first night when we both let them flow

Got your coffee?

Well then let’s talk about how I eat my words . . . a lot.

Example being

I have a small event coming up and I noticed that one of the mean girls in on the invite list. By mean I say’n that she will most likely bring up some pain that a former friend is going through and even though this lady has shut the door on our friendship (due to the pain that she is in right now and doesn’t want anyone except close friends with her) I still care for her and in no way want to discuss what is going on in her life. I want to lift her up in prayer not hear her being trashed. I also have ill feelings towards this person, now I know that I’m suppose to tell her and I did. I sent her an email telling her just how I felt about her and she responded with a huh? It must be the other woman not me. She left my church with a you don’t like me attitude and a slam of the door. I waved a fond farewell and an I wish you well in life thought. Her husband ran for office and lost much to our relief. She is a therapist and trashes her patients to others. I have a list, a long list of her offences to me. Okay I know that I should let it all go, I shouldn’t even care at all but seeing her name brought it back to me.

So how am I eating those words?

Today I told a coworker that she needed to let it go and give it to God over issues with another coworker. I told her to take those nuggets of grace and hold on to them. These words taste icky but hold true. I’m to chew on the darn nuggets of grace and like it. Aren’t I?

My son has something to do that evening so I don’t know if I can even go, we’ll see.

And so ya’ll know I’d try to talk to her about it but she won’t understand, trust me.

We stuff our lives in the corners of the house only to excavate them to discover how you once lived.

Tonight I decided to go through a box that was labeled office. I still haven’t completely gone through all the stuff from the divorce, when I thought that we were going to have to move my sister went into a frenzy of packing. Needless to say I was stunned by all of the events going on… yes it was me who filed for divorce but I had lots of ground to do so. Life became about the divorce. Not a quickie . . . no. . . . he wanted to fight so we fought. The kids and I went to Disney World. My son fell and broke his hip, I had knee surgery, we healed and went on vacation to Alaska my sister was diagnosed with Alveolar soft part sarcoma. Then after a year lost the battle. Now I’m going through boxes of our lives.


Life has been a journey . . . as it always is . . . if you’re live’n it right

In this box are papers of a past life. Hotel room keys from that trip to Texas that made it clear to me.

Pictures drawn from Miss Littles hands... I found the purple me that I used for my picture in this blog. It felt like an old friend’s picture. I found writings from Codepoke because sometimes I didn’t have time to read it on the computer. Get well cards and I’m sorry for your loss. I had a birthday card from a high school friend, we still keep in touch. A copy of email addresses one friend now dead. Many lost to life’s new journeys

A lot of stuff that should have been tossed a long time ago.

We build these lives and little by little they began to change.

I know you’re looking at the things I’ve written and thinking HEY! They change as fast as your airbag comes at you. Yes they do that also. But the things that your day to day life misses is that the kids are growing up. They are moving forward. I’m happy for them. My son is a senior this year. Wow my little boy is turning into a man and I’m a bit sad but jumping for joy for him. Miss Littles is working on that grown up stuff but having a struggle with it. She’s still a bright spot in our lives, even when I’m listening to the new drama in her life.


I found my son’s press pass, a card that she made, and his medal from the Duke Talent search for outstanding ACT scores. A photo of my niece, yes she’s named after me. Life moving past and a lot of stuff to toss out.

It’s our world in a box with about 10 more to go.

Yiks!

Baby Bird.

I love being off on Sundays.
I still get up early because I have to be at church.

This morning started of okay I did what I always do and so on, only as I was pulling out of my driveway I spotted a baby bird on my walkway. Poor little thing. It's rather far from it's home, I don't have any trees in the front yard. We pulled away hoping that the momma would take care of the little squawker.

After church the boy and I met my dad for lunch. It was nice to spent time with The Dad and seems to be doing well.

I expected to find the little lost bird dead when I pulled into the garage. I was wrong that little one is a trooper. It was clearly upset and very hungry. Still no mamma in sight. I waited to hear a distressed momma. I know if my babies were out of the nest I'd be squawking up a storm. No upset parent.

Animals are different from us. For what ever reason this bird has found it self in a predicament that is going to kill it.

I want to take the little one out of it misery but kept thinking what if I spot a mamma or daddy. I wanted to pick that bird up and take it in and take care of it. Baby birds need a lot of care and to be honest I can't do it.

So there outside is the strongest baby bird I have ever seen and I'm in here thinking of how God sees us as these baby birds with our mouths hanging open begging for more and more and more not at all worried about the sin that is lurking around the corner ready to gobble us up. The difference is that I am not God and just can't save this baby bird. the blessing is that God can save our ugly-cute squawking selves.

Thank you God for saving us.