Random Acts of Kindness...

Saturday sucked. It was just plain rotten. I was tired. I had to work for my boss. My friend kinda laid into me about needing to quit my job... I cried. It was terrible. I went home, took a four hour nap. My bro called and I told him to come over and we'd go grab a bite to eat. He knocks on the door and upon me opening it. He holds out a single pink rose (mind you, he didn't know I had a crappy day) and says, "For you!" I was still very tired from the nap and I'm positive that I did not give him the appropriate appreciation he deserved. But I could have cried it meant so much to me... simply because he thought of me.

I have never been fond of pink roses, but I will forever think of my brother when I see one now and they will hold a special place in my heart just because of my bizzle.

So, props to you Beef. You made me feel like a million and a half bucks! You're the best and some day some chic (if she meets my approval of course) is going to break the bank when she gets you.

You ROCK. Straight up yo.

I'm so tired of the friggin' north Dallas attitude. Tired of it. I don't care how much money you make, you that doesn't give you the right to treat people like crap. And I don't care if you wear Gucci or Prada or whatever other name brand or shop at Neiman's or Lord and Taylor or wherever else... get over yourself. I hate materialism. And I work with all these ladies who are obsessed with it and I find myself some days being so overwhelmed by it that I feel the need to give in because I don't feel pretty enough... I already didn't feel like enough because of J and now there's this. E is a body builder and N is a millionaire... good grief. Like my self-esteem needed this? I hate Satan.

My bro and I are standing in the kitchen the other day, I'm making enchiladas and he says to me, "There should be no reason you struggle with self-esteem."

???????

And I feel like crap. Why does this have to be such a struggle? The desire to be wanted or to be desired? I don't want to be because of what I wear or drive... God forbid it... but because of who I am and what type of spirit I exude.

?????????

O.k. you guys are going to be tired of my emotional vomit. I'm sorry. But this week has been crazy and I got an email from The Idiot due to a situation and it pissed me off. The fact that he took the time to type out my name enrages me. Anyway...

And I wouldn't be thinking so much about any of this except that tonight I'm going out to eat with a bunch of fabulous ladies from church. We're getting decked to the 9's and going to eat at this really nice place. We've had it planned for two months (maybe longer) so I've saved up. And E comes in the office earlier and makes a comment about my body and it just blew my whole day... I know it's dumb. It's really dumb but I could have melted into the floor because of what my boss said afterward. Good grief people. So I'm trying to think positive but it's hard. It's just really frustrating... I bought this dress to wear and now I'm debating on even wearing it because of what she said... I could cry. It's so stupid. Thanks E. We know you're perfect, do you have to make the rest of us feel like we're not because we know it. My ex made sure to let me know. Thanks. Thank you very much.

This is one of my best friends Bekah and her boyfriend Abe. She blesses my life... I took this pic of them while in Galveston in May. This is probably one of my favorite portraits I've taken thus far. I love the symmetry. Over all I think it's composed well. Anyway, I was really missing her today. 

Running the Gauntlet

Last night my bro the Great Beefalo, Sydney and I walked around Valley Ranch. It was after midnight and things were pleasantly peaceful. On our way back toward the house we came to a piece of sidewalk that was spotted with sprinkler heads. They were on, spraying away, dousing the sidewalk. Pivoting at various intervals spewing their life giving water on the grass... and the paved way home.

"You wanna run the gauntlet?" I asked.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."

The three of us stood there, all thinking about the timing... it had to be just right. (Yes, Sydney was calculating as well. Ears flat, nose twitching, she was preparing.)

Beef started to jog and then stopped abruptly. Me being behind him (and too short to see what was going on) slammed into his back.

"GO!" I said frantically.
"I was but..."

And Sydney and Beef took off leaving me in the spray. So we all just ran, at first trying to make the effort to not get sprayed, however, this idea was soon abandoned and we simply ran to keep from getting further soaked.

My cackling laughter could probably be heard for a block or two. We came to the end of the gauntlet, wet and laughing.

We walked on, getting closer to our final destination and lo and behold, there was another, yes, another gauntlet of sprinklers.

"You wanna try again?"
There was some sort of gutteral response to this.
"Or we could just run through them."
"You serious?"
"Yes!"

So we ran through the sprinklers, laughing, feeling like we were kids again even though we had just been discussing the weights on our hearts and were up, walking Valley Ranch well after midnight on a worknight like the irresponsible adults we were.

Have no Fear, your Double-D Leader is Here!

Are only boob-less women supposed to be leading the church? Holy cow. Is there a book chapter and verse on that one?

So I get this email from a friend of mine. She's much older. Has kids my age. She tells me in this email that I may need to "disguise my boobs" being that I'm in a position of leadership now. Excuse me? Disguise my boobs? If I was walking around with cleavage hangin' out all the time I can see where this might be coming from... but when I don't I don't see where this is coming from. Are you serious!?!?!?! So if I'm just sitting in the pew doing nothing, I can have all the boobs I want, but when you start getting active (no pun intended) then you have to schedule breast reduction surgery? This chaps my hide and burns my biscuits. Even better, steams my clams. What am I supposed to do? Cut them off? I've talked to three different people, people I KNOW would tell me if I needed to make a change. People who would tell me to go change clothes. My brother wouldn't be seen in public with me and he WOULD tell me to change if I was wearing anything inappropriate. What in the world!?!?!

Maybe if that idiot would get his head out of the gutter he wouldn't have made such disgusting comment. Unprovoked. We were just standing there and he said it... what in the world? Are you kidding me?!?!?! He's 33! Grow up pervert! "Well, if you had been wearing a different blouse, maybe he wouldn't have said such a thing." I WAS WEARING A T-SHIRT. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with me! Maybe it was his vile mind. Have you heard the rest of what he says and does all the time? And he's supposed to be my partner in ministry! Why? Why? Why?

Good grief.

I picked up the mail today for work and there was a postcard that said: "Are you certifiable?"

And the first thing I thought was: "Are you certifiably insane?"

Here's the chance for a dig Beef. Go ahead. Make your day.

Keyboard of Life

Sometimes when I'm typing at work, I get tired or I'm not paying attention. I'm on the phone, I'm looking away at a sheet of paper... and my fingers loose their reference but I'm still typing. When I look back up at the screen nothing makes sense. What I have typed does not read as it should. It doesn't say anything. It's nonsense.

I think sometimes in life we get so caught up or so distracted; we get so comfortable that we don't realize how far away it is from where we need to be. The things we fill ours heads with are great indicators as to how far away we are from where our focus ought to be. We wonder why we're having such problems, why things are going right. Just like our fingers on the keyboard.

Today I'm going to move my fingers over, make sure the index fingers are on the given guides and go from there. Keep my eyes on the screen to be sure I'm headed in the right direction. Today I'm going to be aware.

How comfortable are you with where you are today?

To be or not to be...

I like that I use an alias on my blog... that none of you (with the exception of a few other blogging heroes like Beef & Writer) know who I am! I am Rambouillet! Ram!Bwaa ha haaaaaaaaa!!! Oy. That sounded kind of evil. And I'm going for the good of humanity here...

Continuing on, it is most enjoyable to have an alias. I chose my for specific reasons as I'm sure most of you have yours. I like this veil of secrecy, the shroud of the unknown. After all, y'all know way too much about the rest of me to know my real name.

I'd like to think that my blog is like that of a super-hero. Yes. Yes... that's it. And this is the place where when I'm not working, when I'm not leading the singles group at church, when I'm not being the older sister, when I'm not being a daughter, when I'm not being the oldest grandchild (on both sides of the family)... when I'm not being what it is that I feel I have to be for everyone else at a specific moment in time I come here and be me. Say what I want to, be what I want to... I can be Rambouillet.

So really, it's kind of like the inverse of a super-hero. Super-hero's typically use their alias when fighting crime. I use mine when fighting my own demons.

My space. My words. My thoughts. Some days I love them. Some days I hate them. But mostly I just enjoy the freedom to express myself and not worry about the public finding out it's me: _________.

Do you worry about people finding out it's you?

Props to Lord Byron & Writer

If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. ~Lord Byron

I have enjoyed writing for the whole of my life. As early as fifth grade, I won an award for my writing. This is not to say that I could now, but I have previously. Writer's post (you should all check out his fantastic blog @ meanderingmusingsmustermadness.blogspot.com) has inspired this post especially since Ray Bradbury is one of my absolute favorite writer's of all time. His description of things makes my mind run wild with all sorts of fantastical nonsense. I love it...

Now, my blog is for my purposes and my purposes only. As are my three or four journals I keep at the house. No one reads those of course... they are simply for my own sanity. :) However, it is important that you all know that much like what Lord Byron said, I write to empty my mind. I write to sort thoughts and collect the ideas and data swirling about in my head. I wrote a short poem about that once. Don't know if I posted it or not. But it was the very same idea... emptying the mind... ink forming letters, creating words, stringing thoughts onto pages.

I do appreciate those of you who stick around for my nonsense. Especially in all of it's unedited insanity.

Sometimes I find myself aching to write down a thought so bad that I've found myself keeping a pad of paper in my car and in my purse so that at any given time I can write down whatever it is that ails me. What joyous release to be able to express oneself with words! What a tragedy to be without words... to be without words is to be without thought and what a true tragedy that is.

A few months ago I didn't know what a blog was and now I find that it is a place of solace and comfort, a place to vent. A place to lay one's head. A place to sit. A place to bounce ideas from one continent, one city to another. One mind to another. It is another place for me to be me.

I used to be so embarrassed at my writing, especially my poetry. In fact, I never told anyone I wrote any. But you know it really doesn't matter what anyone thinks. It's really a matter of what I'm thinking and whether or not I want to write it down or not. You don't have to like it. I don't necessarily want you to. This is a big deal because I've spent the better part of my life trying so hard to be what every one else wanted me to... trying so hard to please everyone else, thinking about what they wanted and liked and never thinking about what I really wanted and liked.

So, the long and short of it is this: I write to clear my head. I write because I enjoy it. I write because I feel better when I do. Like singing.

Give us this day...

I was thinking this morning, the reason we have so many letters to various churches in the Bible is due to the fact that every church, no matter the denomination has flaws. While this conclusion may seem elementary, it may not be such. Take a look at your own church or the churches you have visited and the attitudes they have so rigorously embodied and transferred to others knowing them to be the "truth." People do a lot of stupid and terrible things when they think they're in the right.

We're all just trying to figure things out. We're all mixed up and all in the wrong. And that does not mean (as Romans discusses) that we should abuse grace. What is does mean is that we should not judge. That we should be slow to anger abounding in love, as the Pslams state God is. We should love our brothers, because it covers a multitude of sins (I Peter 4). We should give each other a little grace, hmmmm... like the forgiveness and grace Christ gave us? Funny the Bible talks about that and yet we are so quick to forget about it. Are we not called to be imitators of God? (Ephesians 5)

Satan parades as an Angel of Light and oh does he does his work well, church warring against church when we should all be unified. We all know Christ. We worship the same God. And yet we war and argue with one another... when will we see the damage we are doing to our ownselves? No wonder the world wants nothing to do with us.

God forgive us when we fail to see our own iniquities and are so quick to point out and cast out other's. Help us to see with Your eyes, spiritual eyes, the eyes of Your spirit so the we are able to do Your will in the works of Your churches throughout the world. Renew our minds, restore our hearts.

God forgive us.

Not Just Any Tuesday

Ah... where do I start? I don't know why it has taken me so long to blog about this. I guess I didn't want to ruin a good thing. But I read Claraslvr's blog about her wonderful evening and was inspired to write about mine... so here I go. And besides, my posts have been dark of late.

He picked me up around 6 o'clock on a Tuesday evening. It was sunny outside. I had only been given a hint at what we were doing... something about "swinging things." Having been given a dress code as well (how cute is that?!?!) casual and kind of athletic, I of course had spent my day off stressing about what to wear. Typical girl thing to do. Do I normally stress about what to wear? No. I went with olive capris, a white tank with a black flower embellishment (just the right touch of feminity) and black flip flops. I debated on the black flip flops since he said athletic, but at the behest of my roommate went with them.

A knock at the door. So, I get my bag, put up the dog, and we're off. Off to where? I don't know yet but the conversation is great. And I must add that he did open the car door for me. A gentleman. *sigh*

In the midst of our wonderful conversation he asks me if I've ever played golf. Nope. Not ever, never so much as picked up a club (and somehow I suspect he knows this already... I'll have to ask him one day, but I think, it's only a theory, but I think he overheard a conversation two days before involving my boss and a few other people about how to swing a golf club and I was going on about how I've never played before and never so much as swung a club. So, they all stood around and tried to tell me how to hold a club and whatnot... all the time he was only a few feet away.)
So he tells me we're going to a driving range.

We stayed at the driving range for a good two hours. I, of course, had the obligatory strikes but actually all in all didn't do so bad. Not for the first time anyway. He let me borrow his glove so I wouldn't get blisters (what a sweetheart) although I didn't realize he was playing without one until we were almost finished. When I offered to give it back he kindly refused.

I ended up playing barefoot due to the fact the flip flops weren't working so well. Why had I listened to my roommate? I should have gone with my original instinct... some cute tennis shoes... oh well.

We talked about the books we enjoy reading and the our families and all kinds of stuff. Leadership in the church... frustrations... It was most enjoyable... most.

M was kind enough to go to the opposite end of the area where you drive, so that I could make a fool of myself and only he and I could laugh, not the whole of the range. Ever the gentleman! Well, we had visitors. One in particular liked to pitch alot of dirt as he sliced the ball. I was getting showered in dirt. This is the only time on the date I became paranoid. I know, it's ridiculous. It reminded me of an old Ally McBeal episode (I hated that show, only watched one) where the guy had a little bit of salad dressing on his face and it bugged her bad she pictured him the remainder of the evening, face dripping with dressing. Well, I just knew my face was going to be caked with mud between the sweat and the dirt being thrown in our direction by the guy upwind!

When we had exhausted our bucket of golf balls we packed up his clubs and headed toward the car where he once again, opened the door (I could get used to this...)

Off to Mi Cocina (two firsts in one night), a really nice mexican food restaurant. We sat down and I think it took about 45 minutes to order because we spent so much time talking. Anyway, we shut the place down. I was so impressed because M made it a point to know the waiter's name. He was so polite and made sure to say thank you, even for the small things. Like my Dad does. It was a breath of fresh air.

He talked about his witness and it was amazing... I felt like I'd finally met someone who felt like I had for so much of my life. It was awesome.

Before the evening was over, we agreed that we had to "do this again." Since then we have talked at least every other day, if not more.

He is most enjoyable.

Pigskin

The rustling of dried leaves over the pavement. Smells of chimney smoke; the quiet in the air, sounds dampened by the cool. The smell of newly sharpened lead pencils and school bells...

It's time for some pigskin.

Texas High school football is great because it's mostly just a bunch of boys playin' ball cause they want to. Sometimes because their dads want them to. Sometimes to impress a girl. But mostly, cause it's about the spirit of Friday night. It's about the floodlights in the stadium. The fight song played over a roaring crowd. The adrenaline. And for what? Some 17 year old kids. We'll go scream our heads off to pump up the ego of a 17 year old. He'll feel like a pro. That's awesome.

I love to see the glow of stadium lights on Friday. LOVE IT. It stirs something in me, makes this thing in me rise up and it takes hold of my heart.

This one's for Discom

So, Discom, you wanted me to give you some Cliff Notes. To update you on my life. Well, your recent post regarding "BJs" has inspired me. No, I was not a prostitute in a former life. Even better a wife. Yes folks. I was someone's wife. But apparently I wasn't... well, enough. So here I am. Branded for life. In the good 'ol C of C, that means I can't be saved. Not even Christ's blood is good enough for the sin of Divorce. So here I am, Red Letter and all. Capital D.

You know people tend to think that women are the one's who hold sex over men's heads and keep it from them, that we are the only culprits. WRONG. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Now, it happens more that way than the other but that does not mean that women are the only ones who use it as a weapon. Sex is not a tool. It is not a weapon. NOT a weapon.

I know that at some point in my life I knew deep down in my soul, in my heart of hearts that God made sex this beautiful, wonderful thing. But now, I have a hard time believing it. I know it. I'll tell people that all day. But I have a hard time believing it. Knowing and believing are different.

By the time it was all over, we were married 2 1/2 years and I can count on two hands the number of times we did it. And when we did it was terrible... it was like some sort of out of body experience. He may as well have been sitting across the room watching - watching and hating it. It was awful. The man had issues. Issues with a lot of stuff... like his mom. Good grief, that's a tale in itself.

And you know what really sucks... I WAITED. I WAITED DANG IT!!!! Is this what I get for waiting!?!?!?! There are millions of people out there who have sex all the freakin' time... ug. It just pisses me off.

He would tell me that sex was "gross," that it was "too messy." There were about 20 different excuses. He was too tired. He had a headache. He didn't want to hurt me. Would I really be that interested if it hurt?!?!?! And he NEVER did anything to please me. And that is no exaggeration.

And so you pray: God, help me be patient. Help me be a better wife. Help me not be so angry. Help me have a better attitude.

And then you pray for death because you've been wounded so deeply by the least suspected person and no one believes you. And then when he stops talking to you and he won't go to counseling and he fakes it to the world and the fakeness is about the make you crazy... you know what has to be done. So you start to think of ways to make it look like an accident so your parents won't be worried about what you were thinking when you went. After all, divorce is unforgivable but there are some who think suicide is sort of up in the air.

He told me once that the reason he looked at porn was because he admired the artistic qualities of it. That has to be the biggest bunch of bullsh** I've ever heard. I asked him one time if he'd ever cheated on me and his response was, "What's your definition of cheating?"

You know, I don't wish any ill will on him. I've forgiven him. I have some hurts to deal with, but I have forgiven him. Now I have to forgive myself. That's the hard part.

And the last thing he said to me before he walked out the door for the last time was, "Well, I would say I'd see you around, but I guess not."

And I'm much better off. Spiritually, physically, everything. Better off. This Ram ain't far from the flock and I ain't going to hell. I know where the Shepherd is and I'm in safe keeping.

For right now, that's all I have to say about that.

Early Morning Sydney

At a loss...

I feel at such a loss right now, that everything is coming together and falling apart all at the same time. Like worlds are ripping apart. No more UNT... no more speech path. Maybe teaching art? Maybe inner city work? God help me! Cause all I want to do is Your will but I gotta have some help.

Patience and time. Patience and time.

For those of you who pray... I would appreciate it. I need wisdom and guidance to decipher the spirits at battle around me daily. We are at war.

If You Want Me To

This is a song by Ginny Owens and it has encouraged me greatly the past few years. The first time I listened to the album this song came off of I bawled the through the whole thing. It was like she knew exactly where I was coming from! The title of this particular song is captured in heading of this post. Most of the time I can't listen to it without crying. I've decided though that crying is o.k.


The pathway is broken
And the signs are unclear
And I don’t know the reason why you brought me here
But just because you love me the way that you do
I’m gonna walk through the valley
If you want me to

Chorus:
Cause I’m not who I was
When I took my first step
And I’m clinging to the promise you’re not through with me yet
So if all of these trials bring me closer to you
Then I will go through the fire
If you want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When you lead me through a world that’s not my home
But you never said it would be easy
You only said I’d never go alone

So when the whole world turns against me
And I’m all by myself
And I can’t hear you answer my cries for help
I’ll remember the suffering your love put you through
And I will go through the valley
If you want me to

Office Depot

I run to Office Depot for work alot, mostly to their Copy Center. There are three main people who run the copy center: Eric, Jamie and Kim. When I go to Office Depot I spend more time there listening to their life stories than shopping for my boss which please me fine. I'm sure people think it strange, which pleases me as well.

Eric's wife died in February. He met her over the internet. She lived in China and he went there to marry her. I'm not sure how long they were married but she had a brain tumor and died.

No one at the office would know this because no one else takes the time to ask the simple question: How are you today Eric? I simply asked one day and got an ear full of the above. So we sent flowers to his house after the funeral. He has since then met another woman, who has a son (his last wife was barren, so this is a blessing!) and has been to China this summer to marry her. He has been gone several weeks on vacation to met and marry her. He was back this week... I was so excited to hear how things went and see pictures. She is beautiful and Eric was beaming!

Jamie is married to a wonderful man. She doesn't have to talk about how great he is. You can tell by the way it resonates in her voice. Her husband went to the Sunset school of preaching in Lubbock, Texas... how crazy! She was shocked that I knew of it. She is a doll and I enjoy visiting with her.

Kim is new to the crew. Today I listened to her talk about her pregnancy. I had no clue she was pregnant but apparently she wanted someone to know and needed someone to talk to about it. I stood there for 20 minutes after getting my copies made and listened to her. Hardly said a thing... just listened. She's 22 and has a boyfriend in Shreveport. She's planning on moving there sometime in the next few weeks. She's due in November. It sounds as though she has plenty of family and friends in Shreveport who love and support her (which is such a relief!!!)

I hope that my listening serves them in some way... I hope I minister to them in my own quiet way when standing at their service counter. Ha. That's funny. Their service counter!

can anyone tell me how to add my photo to my profile, you know, so that when I post I have a pic? I would appreciate the help!

Spiritually Scrumptious

I had lunch today with a lady I've known since middle school. Oddly enough, our paths have crossed here in the metroplex in the singles group at PC. How funny! Her and her husband are interested in working with the singles and her daughter (who is my age, we were in the youth group together years ago) is in the group I'm leading here as well.

She wanted to hear about my story and I just wanted to bask in her presence for awhile. We started out (before we even sat down to the table) and the tears began to well up... so we prayed we wouldn't cry. And lo and behold... we didn't. For two hours we talked about our deepest hurts... and didn't shed a tear. It was wonderful... discussing spiritual warfare and looking back on our lives and seeing how we have been so deceived by the Great Deceiver; how we have overcome in spite of it with the help of the Almighty and not only that but come out better for it, pain and all.

We had shrimp and fruit (an odd combination I thought at first) but it was terribly wonderful to the palate! I wish, now back at my desk, that I had some more!

Blessings... we finished our lunch with a prayer of thankfulness... and then we cried... tears of joy.

He is good. God is SO good.

And I just wanted to share his goodness with you.

The Distance

A fellow blogger has spurred me to write this... and while I have tried to keep it light lately cause my thoughts are usually weighted so (I have to have some relief somewhere...) I am inspired. Take heed: there may be a few rabbit trails along the way. So I hope you like rabbits.

I have felt, my entire life that I have been set apart. That I am called to something; chosen, even. I have understood from such a young age. Not just knowing the answers to questions, because I haven't always known, still don't. But seeing the bigger picture, the forest for the trees. I would go on youth trips and get letters weeks later from youth ministers saying how impressed they were... that they know people who were twice my age with less wisdom than me. I didn't ever think much of it really.

I used to wake up in middle school and cry every morning because I was still alive. I didn't want to be here... amidst the masses who didn't get it, who didn't appreciate or understand God. Not that I completely understood either, but at least I longed to. I would pray, o Lord, I would pray to be taken home. Finding true friends has always been a challenge and such work because it has always been such a frustration to me that people do not "get it." And disappointment gets old quickly... the heart can only take so much...

When I was baptised, I felt so clean. I remember that feeling. I remember the conviction, the urgency and the desire to tell the whole of the world about the good news I had received.

I am a wretch, LORD knows I'm a wretch. Why he ever wasted His time saving me is a conundrum but I'm glad he took me into His peace, His salvation. I cherish my redemption. Continually cleansed by the blood... what a thought, that something so crimson makes something so pristine?

Praise God.

With understanding, comes responsibility (as my brother and I often hold each other accountable to when we seem to be near the end of our ropes). So I will take on this Singles group and do my very best. After all, its all I can do. Even though by all rights I wasn't "supposed" to be in a singles group. God does have a great sense of humor doesn't He? He does work for the good... He does take our sin that separates and draws us nearer to him.

Holy, holy, holy is the LORD God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.

and His church said...