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O Come All Ye Faithful

A staple of my personal holiday hit parade list at this time of year is the classic carol “O Come All Ye Faithful.” You don’t hear it on the radio much (I assume due to its sacred and not secular nature) but there are literally thousands of wonderful recorded versions of this, from Sarah Maclachlan to Andrea Bocelli. I’ve heard it performed in Latin and in English, by large choirs and soloists, by men and women. The one commonality that resounds: it is a call to the faithful to celebrate this time of year.

As it says in the title, this is a call for ALL the faithful. Christmas and the arrival of the baby Jesus are not just for the ‘good’ and the ‘holy’ and the fancy fussy Christians that e83a233d7ca6904fbe5bbbd2adf0e75adutifully attend some stuffy old church every Sunday in their finest clothes. This time of year is meant to remind all Christians of their faith and of the humble beginnings of the Christ Child. The hymn is a call to all of us to remember what our faith is based in and to renew the joy and peace found in believing.

I wouldn’t dare to presume but I personally don’t think God cares what a good, faithful Christian wears to church or how much money they put in the offering plate. I don’t think he cares what skin color or what gender or what political bend a worshipper has. I don’t think he judges based on what their job is or what kind of car they drive. He cares about how we treat the people around us, in how we give of ourselves to the world, and what we contribute to bettering our fellow human beings.

I am a sinner. As a good friend of mine, who is a pastor, reminds me all the time — we are all sinners! But this is my favorite time of year because we sinners can be renewed with the birth of that baby in the stable in Bethlehem. From the lowliest birth, the faithful are reenergized with the joy of our Savior. Every December, we are called to remember and reinvest in the basic tenets of what we believe: peace, goodwill to men, kindness to all creatures, love your neighbor, and forgive those who have wronged you, to name just a few.

So, “O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant, O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem. Come and behold him, born the King of Angels. O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.” Blessings to ALL ye faithful!

 

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For the annual Christmas parade in our town this year, I wore a ridiculous set of one-piece Union suit Grinch jammies and a goofy Who hairdo and rode the float with my work family. We laughed, we danced, we sang (badly), and we wished a “Merry Christmas” to anyone who’d listen. Every year, my work enters a themed float in the

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photo credit: Ted Mueller Photography

parade and we join in the Christmas spirit – but this year was particularly special for me – I discovered two wonderful things:

 

1)      Tapping into your inner child helps you find the Holiday Spirit. As adults, we get so buried in the stress of baking, buying, and bustling. We forget that this time of year is about magic and giving and smiles and laughs and family and wishing goodwill to our fellow human beings. But taking a moment to giggle and be goofy can reset your Christmas batteries and remind you about the pure JOY that should come with this time of year.

2)      I have finally reached the point in my life where I no longer care if others judge me for what I wear, what I look like, how I’m behaving or what I am doing with my life. I  have literally spent decades trying to fit in and conform and to please all people all the time. Hallelujah, I now find that maturity has caught up with me, that I am content enough to be my own person, to stand out and stand up, to be ok with being ‘odd’ or ‘nerdy’ or ‘frumpy’ – it doesn’t matter because I’m happy. Finally, after all of these years, I am comfortable enough in my own skin to just be myself — for the good, the bad, or the ridiculous!

So now, in the warm glow of my Christmas tree, I find the courage to admit the truth…I am on the downward slide in my life into being a Golden Girl. And I’m perfectly content with that. I am going to embrace the spirit of this holiday and celebrate this wonderful world we live in and find joy in those special moments in my life. And I hope all of you will do the same.

🎄🎄HAPPY HOLIDAY SEASON FROM THIS CRAZY OLD LADY!!🎄🎄

While I shamefacedly admit that it has been more than 5 years since I last posted, I must also report that those 5 years have been full of personal growth, mental breakdowns, massive life changes and the journey to real adulthood.

As Miranda Lambert wrote, “I can judge the cover ’cause I wrote the book, On losing sleep and gaining weight, On pain and shame and crazy trains.”

When I first started putting my thoughts up here, it was because I was going through an ugly divorce. I needed somewhere to vent, to let out the anger and bitterness and sense of betrayal and loss. Looking back, I regret that I unleashed some of those negative moments on the world – but if I hadn’t have let them out, I very probably would have imploded.

Then, as I navigated the path of being newly single, the blog turned into simply a place to have someone listen to me and see the random and quirky ways in which my mind turns. Meeting new people and opening my mind up after your world turns upside down is an adventure.561897_10201061746363896_1110025133_n

And now? Life has settled for me. I have a better handle on who I am and what I want out of life. I have come to accept that ugly phase of my life and to use it to try to grow into a better person. I am stronger, I am happier, I have opened my life up to new adventures.

So welcome back to my world, hopefully it’s a quieter place…

 

[Maroon 5]

I’m at a payphone trying to call home / All of my change I spent on you

Where have the times gone / Baby it’s all wrong /where are the plans we made for two?
Yeah, I, I know it’s hard to remember / The people we used to be

It’s even harder to picture / That you’re not here next to me

You say it’s too late to make it / But is it too late to try?

And in our time that you wasted / All of our bridges burned down
I’ve wasted my nights / You turned out the lights

Now I’m paralyzed / Still stuck in that time when we called it love / But even the sun sets in paradise
If happy ever after did exist / I would still be holding you like this

All those fairytales are full of shit / One more stupid love song  / I’ll be sick
You turned your back on tomorrow / Cause you forgot yesterday

I gave you my love to borrow / But you just gave it away

You can’t expect me to be fine / I don’t expect you to care

I know I’ve said it before / But all of our bridges burned down
 [Wiz Khalifa]

Man work that shit / I’ll be out spending all this money while you sitting round

Wondering why it wasn’t you who came up from nothing

Made it from the bottom / Now when you see me I’m stunning

And all of my cars start with the push up a button

Telling me the chances I blew up / or whatever you call it

Switched the number to my phone / So you never could call it

Don’t need my name on my show / You can tell it I’m ballin’

Swish, what a shame could have got picked / Had a really good game but you missed your last shot

So you talk about who you see at the top / Or what you could’ve saw

But sad to say it’s over for Phantom / pulled up valet open doors / Wiz like go away, got what you was looking for

Now ask me who they want / So you can go and take that little piece of shit with you

I’m at a payphone trying to call home / All of my change I spent on you

Where have the times gone / Baby it’s all wrong /where are the plans we made for two?

If happy ever after did exist / I would still be holding you like this

All those fairytales are full of shit / One more stupid love song / I’ll be sick
Now I’m at a payphone…

Damaged Goods?

I have spent the better part of the last 2 years thinking that I am now permanently damaged goods. Besides the constant sense of bitterness and the fragile state of my already-heavily-damaged ego, I have questioned if these experiences have made me unfit for future human relationships. Forget about the male-female romantic type of relationships (of which I fear I am permanently unfit) but even just the simple human interactions. What happens if I am too screwed up to ever have a normal friendship again??

If you had asked me 10 years ago where I envisioned my life would be at this juncture, you can bet your sweet bippy that it never would have occurred to me that I would be more lost than I was at 18 – rootless and struggling with my faith, my self-esteem, and my future – I thought I had outgrown these sorts of emotions. So now I feel that I am too messed up, too crazy, too jaded, too broken – damaged goods.

So last night, in spending some time with my nearly-perfect friend (who will be known here only as “The B”) I discovered that I am not alone in the feeling of being ‘damaged.’ “The B”  is tall, gorgeous, outgoing, funny, intelligent and charismatic – and yet feels that she isn’t good enough. We actually spent quite a bit of the evening arguing over who is crazier, more angry, and/or more flawed. How is that a woman who is almost the perfect ideal of a female in current American society share the same sense of inadequacy that I have? “The B” is the kind of woman that I want to be when I grow up – how can SHE feel that she’s as crazy as I am?!

Is it a woman thing? Are we, as females, programmed to feel inadequate in some way at all times in our lives? I don’t think that’s exclusively the answer – although I DO believe that females specialize in feeling insecure and flawed. But I know many men who suffer from some of the same feelings that we have, especially the men who have been through shattering divorces or other life-altering events. These men are normal, everyday guys who have managed (just like “The B” and I) to get out of bed and face each new day. So, no, I don’t think it’s just ‘a woman thing’ – I actually think it’s more widespread than that.

My evening with “The B” has helped me to realize something very important – we are ALL damaged goods! There is not a single person, no matter how good it looks like they may have it in life, that is truly content with who they are. Maybe it’s trauma (emotional or physical) that has damaged someone, maybe it’s simply born in them – but we ALL feel that we have flaws. I am so glad to have company in the Damaged Goods area of the department store of life! Does it make me a bad person to rejoice in the company I keep?? I have truly wonderful friends that have helped me to realize that they too struggle with the damages in their lives – and if they can survive, so can I!

So, to”The B” I send the assurance that we are both crazier than hell, totally screwed up, and yet totally lovable!! And we are not alone – there are a lot of us that are Damaged Goods – and we should stand proud!

A true child of the ’80’s am I, raised on the wisdom of sitcoms and television dramas. I admit especially to being a M*A*S*H-aholic. Back in its heyday, my big brother watched it (he being the older, wiser, and more worldly of the two of us) and I admit now to an obsessive need to view the marathons on TVLand and Hallmark Channel every chance I get. Many an important life lesson was learned from that show (along with The Golden Girls) and even now I find that the TV shows of my childhood are still shaping my values.

The episode I was watching earlier tonight was the pen pal letters episode – Hawkeye’s friend back home gets her elementary school students in Crabapple Cove, Maine to write letters to the personnel of the 4077th. In the midst of writing back to the children and amongst the amusing and mundane anecdotes that the staff chooses to tell the kids about, there are several poignant moments in which the staff is forced to reexamine their role in the war – and in life. One of the students writes a letter that Hawkeye must answer in which the student says he hates the doctors because they fixed up his brother and sent him back into combat in which he was subsequently killed. As Hawkeye is pondering how to answer this child, a child is brought in from a local orphanage who has a severe brain injury – and the priest who runs the orphanage prays “Dear God, I thank you for providing….to have them here in this place at this time is truly a sign of Your providence.”  All of a sudden, Hawkeye knows what to write to the poor young student back home, full of so much anger: “I understand your feelings. Sometimes I hate myself for being here. But once in a while, in the midst of this insanity, a very small event can make my being here seem almost bearable.”

I had seen this episode at least 5 times before and yet this was the first time that this whole exchange made me stop and go hmmmm….

I am a woman of strong faith. I have stated over and over and over again that I am sure God has a plan for me, that the struggles and pain that I have suffered for the last 10 years have not been in vain. I constantly recite the AA mantra “Let go and let God.” Despite my faith, I admit that I have often questioned why God has put me in this situation, given me this kind of pain.

Now, thanks to a television show (geez, welcome to religion in America), I have a whole new way of looking at things. Because of God’s plan, I was put here at this moment in time in this particular geographical location for a purpose. Divine providence has brought me to this moment in my life with my own special brand of emotional baggage for a purpose. And, much like Hawkeye, I don’t quite know yet what that purpose is – but I have a strong faith that my small event is coming, that event which will make it all clear.  I have only to wait and to trust in the Lord and to believe that my time is coming. I will let you know when that time comes. In the meantime, I can only hope that I will become Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan when I grow up. But that’s a topic for another day.

Grace & Athleticism

Those two words have never applied to me, EVER. Hi, my name is Becky, and I am hopelessly out of touch with the way my body is supposed to work in any coordinated movement.

When you are the fat kid growing up, the choices for showcasing whatever god-given body skills you have are slim. My mother enrolled me in the requisite “little girl” dance classes – and even I have to admit how ridiculous that was! The ballet tights and tutu must have made me look like the hippos in Fantasia – those fashions were not invented for chubby little girls. And yet I actually truly loved dancing. From the graceful and ordered movements of ballet to the all-out noisemaking in tap class, I really liked dancing. But, when you reach those dreaded pre-teenage years and realize that you don’t look good in that spandex, you give up the love of the activity in some twisted sense of self-preservation and damaged ego. When all the little girls around you are tiny and petite and graceful – and you are everything BUT – you decide that maybe you should find a new hobby, maybe knitting or reading or underwater basketweaving. Anything that didn’t require spandex and coordination…

I was never athletic either. I tried softball for a few years when I was 11 or 12 but I never tore up the field with any outstanding skill. Despite a lifetime love of baseball (instilled in me by my dad, the walking baseball encyclopedia, and my brother, the consummate Yankee fan) and the wish that I could play, I was often stuck in right field for the safety of all parties involved. I was too self-conscious to hit, I was too fat to run, I was too scared to field a ball. Yep, Derek Jeter I wasn’t!

So, now having a brief background into my non-athletic past, I hope you will now allow me a moment of utter pride in the smallest of victories- I actually am trying a team sport again! After 20+ years of being too self-conscious about my weight, my body style and my general lack of coordination, I am actually leaping into a new game – vintage baseball. More to follow on this great sport (!) but I just had to share my joy right now! I actually got out on a field with a bunch of very athletic and very coordinated guys and tried something *gasp* athletic with them! What am I thinking?!

I am so grateful to those guys – this is just my small way of saying thank you to them – for putting up with me. The first practice I sucked big time – and the second week was only marginally better. The guys are being very tolerant of my general lack of skill and are being very understanding as I learn the body mechanics needed to play. Sadly, I am paying the price for hiding my body and not developing any athletic grace for the first 30 years of my life. Or, rather, I should say that my poor teammates are paying the price. But I am working hard to improve – I even now have my own private batting/throwing coach (bless my wonderful coworker and friend Jen) – and practice every day to try to improve. For love of the game, I am trying, dammit!!

But, meanwhile, I am just tickled to death that I have tried something new, something that required almost every ounce of courage I own.  This was a HUGE step for me and, without the confidence I have pieced back together as I have shed some of these pounds, I would never have been able in the past to be brave enough for this. While I lack (and probably always will) a natural sense of grace or athleticism, I have something even better – HEART!