Six Word Saturday (11/27/10)

I wish I was a Sim

Whenever my husband's alarm goes off for work in the morning, I pretty much always forget what I'm dreaming because I wake up to the song that's playing.  On Sunday mornings I wake up on my own so I usually remember part of my dreams then.  One time a missionary to Morocco told my Sunday school class that Muslims get converted to Christianity sometimes because they have vivid dreams of Jesus talking to them.  Well, mine aren't so life-changing and I'm not really sure if God speaks to me in mine.  But anyway, last Sunday's dream is still on my mind because it was such a good dream.

For some reason my real life was seen as a game of Sims 2.  Everyone I saw had a diamond-shaped plumbob hovering over their head just like in the Sims (the plumbob changes colors depending on their mood and fulfilled needs - green is preferable, yellow means they're fading, red means deficient, but platinum means excellent).  Okay, in my dream, me and my husband didn't have our three current children, but we had quintuplet toddlers (FIVE TODDLERS!?!?).  Anyway, four of them looked like me and my husband and one of them was very dark skinned like an Ethiopian.  And in my dream my normally outspoken opinionated husband didn't have much to say about the dark kid because we both knew that it was his side of the family who had intermingled with slaves a long time ago.  (Weird!)

Alien Sim reading to a toddler

But in my dream these five little toddlers were just babbling happily with each other, green plumbobs over their heads, waiting for me to get them each out of their crib.  And they were all just wearing a diaper, and they went in a line by the changing table and just stood there patiently waiting their turn for me to get them dressed.  And I just remember feeling in my dream that I really ENJOYED being their mom and how satisfying it was to take care of them all.  Every time I started dressing one, I would tell him/her I loved them and they would say they loved me too.  And the last one I dressed was the black toddler, and I remember I said I loved him and he said "even me, mommy?" and I said "Especially you!" and he smiled so big and I felt SOOO happy!

Toddler taking nap in dog bed

And then I woke up.

I've been thinking about this dream all week, and if God was really telling me something in it, maybe he was saying that I should enjoy being a mom.  If my family and my husband's family (and the neighbors and my friends, etc.) want to grade me, it's like maybe God's telling me who cares what they think.

Broke up

My oldest son came over for dinner tonight.  He said he didn't want to tell me last Sunday but he and his girlfriend broke up.  She apparently is listening to her friends and they don't think she should "waste" her last year of high school tied down in a relationship.  Hmm, interesting, my son spent all four years of high school in a relationship with HER!

I'm not mad at her.

I love her.

I'm so pissed off at my husband right now too, because up until about a year ago, he never "allowed" her to come over!  My son would go over there (she lived with her uncle next door to us till her mother got out of rehab).  Every single day he went over there and she couldn't come over here.  And then the uncle transferred jobs and moved out of town (after her mother got an apartment and a job).  And then all of a sudden it was okay for my son's girlfriend to come over.  Apparently my husband just didn't like the uncle.  So I wish I could've loved her for the first three years too!!!  I hate my husband right now!!!!

My son has already went on two dates with some girl he "went out with" in junior high.

I'm hurting so bad.  My therapist had to move my appointment to tomorrow instead of Wednesday because of his Thanksgiving travel, so I guess at least it's comforting knowing I get to see him.

Six Word Saturday (11/20/10)

So much to do this weekend

First, I just want to vent - the remodeling still isn't finished on the "facade" of the strip mall where I volunteer at.  Their trucks are all over the parking lot and it's hard to find a space, plus they have scaffolding in front of both the front and side door.  Thursday when I left to go home I didn't duck down far enough out the door and hit the top of my head so hard on the scaffolding that I fell backwards flat on my back in the parking lot and hit my head on the pavement!  I really have half a mind not to go volunteer till the construction is done.  I guess I'm okay but it triggered me being afraid of other things, like getting in a car accident or getting sick and having to go to the hospital, etc.

On a good note, today I'm going to a luncheon with the people from Rachel's Vineyard.  I guess it's like a reunion.  I really can't wait to see everyone again!

Tomorrow at church is Consecration Sunday.  I'm not sure what it is exactly because I've only been going to this Methodist church since Halloween.  They're serving breakfast after each service.  I've been going to this church because my neighbors go there and it's closer to my house and the people there don't seem so judgmental.  Yet.

Six Word Saturday (11/13/10)

I Am Reading A Good Book

I guess one good thing about my therapist is he knows how much I love to read.  So every couple months he asks me if I've read such-and-such book.  The latest book he suggested is called TrueFaced.  I'm about one third of the way through.

There is just so much in this book already that makes me almost glad my life has been a big freaking mess!  God's grace is an amazing gift.

Six Word Saturday (11/6/10)

Jesus Would Say That Too -- NOT!

Yesterday the place where I volunteer had a pizza party and cake to celebrate all the volunteers with a birthday from July to December.  Everything was going just fine till the end.  The director started talking about one of the new volunteers ("C") who is only volunteering here to fulfill court probation.  I've seen her a couple times but have only said hello, because she's usually in the middle of a big pile of lessons to stamp.  Anyway, the director (the DIRECTOR!!!) starts telling everyone that "C" told him a few weeks ago that she was a lesbian.  He told us he kind of figured she was since she wore masculine clothes and had a weird hairstyle.  But holy moly, you'd have thought the director told everyone C was a serial killer with all the tongue clicking and shaking heads going on.  I should've made up some excuse to go home, because the rest of what he said just broke my heart.  He said he has a really hard time even saying hello to her -- get this, he has to PRAY that he has the strength to say hello to her.  And of course everyone's all commiserating with him that she "has to" volunteer here.  I was so sad hearing how unloving they sounded.

After everyone else started leaving, I went up to the director's wife and asked her if C got to choose where she volunteered (she did).  Okay, correct me if I'm wrong, but if you knew a really outspoken lesbian, do you think she'd CHOOSE to volunteer with Christians or would she pick some other place that's secular?  Secular, right?  I told the director's wife that the Bible study leader who I initially volunteered there with, had a list of probably 100 places in town that we could've volunteered at.  I told the director's wife twice during my conversation that THERE MUST BE A REASON GOD HAS "C" VOLUNTEERING WITH US!  Out of 100 places, she picked us.

I can't stop thinking about that Woman from the Well exercise we did at the retreat.  Jesus KNEW she had five husbands, Jesus KNEW he "shouldn't" associate with her, but just the way Jesus was looking and speaking to her the woman KNEW Jesus loved her!!!!  THAT'S why she got all excited and ran back to town telling everyone that Jesus knew all about her!  Because she could tell he still LOVED HER!!!

I'm so anxious for Tuesday to get here so I can go volunteer and hopefully see "C" and say hi and think of some other things to say to her.  THAT is what Jesus would do.

Rachel's Vineyard, day 3

During the morning meeting they told us we had been living in a bubble there and to be careful to stay close to God everyday after we got home.  We chose one of each other's names on cards out of a basket.  The name I picked was the counselor E.  We were supposed to write on the card how that person was a blessing.  So I wrote things down about E and just sobbed my eyes out (it really sucked knowing I'd have to say goodbye to her, this person who meant so much to me already, when the retreat was over).  Then we each took turns going up to our person and reading the card to them.  Another counselor actually selected my name.  (I still have the card in my jacket pocket.)  Here is what she wrote about me:

Debbie

Beautiful Smile

Strong woman

Willing to take on a task

Putting yourself in a different and strange environment for healing

Openess to share to help others

Blossomed since Friday

We passed around the wine (pitcher of grape juice) again and poured into the big goblet for each thing that blessed us during the weekend.  I put "love" and "healing."  Then we shared the cup and drank each other's joy and blessings.  That was really cool.

The Memorial Service

My therapist came!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me and the other two ladies were in the kitchen filling out some paperwork, and I heard him laughing in the other room!  I was glad he was there but I felt funny at first like maybe he wasn't glad to be there or something.  I asked him if he would mind helping me do things during the ceremony, mostly I just needed to hold his arm for balance becuase I was wearing a dress and flats, and I didn't want to slip.  I had been using a cane for balance most of the weekend and I just wanted the ceremony to stand out more, not my cane.  He said he could help me.  So once the ceremony started all of a sudden I realized he wasn't there for me, he was there for Claudia .. that felt so good to have someone important to me acknowledging my baby's existence.

M read her letter for her baby out loud, but when she first got up there she started seriously crying hard.  One of the counselors and M's daughter were standing with her for support.  Still that was really painful to watch.  I'm almost thinking M was gonna read her letter to her "little girl M" self but maybe it was too painful for her?  At any rate, then T read her letter for her baby out loud too.  When I walked up there with my therapist I got really nervous so I don't think I got much out of "my" part of the service.  I read my "little girl Debbie" letter and the poem I wrote for Claudia.  I don't want to share them anymore.  I felt so dumb, as soon as they were read, I just felt like they weren't even very good!  It was humiliating.  It still is.

Then I had to place the two bereavement dolls representing Claudia and little girl Debbie in the cradle.  THAT WAS HARD.  That was so hard.  I mean, I'm even crying right now remembering it.  It's just a stupid hot-dog shaped doll in a blanket but it hurts so much remembering I had to let them go.

The priest gave me a lovely Certificate of Life that had Claudia's name on it.  One of the other counselors gave me a rose and a pin.  And then me and my therapist sat back down.  Then the priest said some things, and then the service was over.  I asked my therapist if he was gonna stay for the mass (which he did).  Then we had a reception of desserts.  I told my therapist it really meant the world to me that he came!!  After he ate his pie, he said he had to go.  I wish I could have "felt" more around him.  I just felt like a zombie during my part of the service because I was so nervous.  I also feel like I was scared he'd be mad if I cried.

Then we packed up our stuff and my roomie M gave me a ride home!  We're supposed to meet on November 20 for a "reunion" at one of the counselor's houses.  I just can't wait to see everyone again.

Rachel's Vineyard, day 2

Before I forget, during Day 1 after the story of the woman caught in adultery, the counselors pointed out some other rocks on the table and told us to pick one out.  M took a huge one (we estimated it was 20 lbs.), I took a heavy brick-sized one (with kind of pointed edges) and T took a round one about the size of her hand.  The counselors told us we were to carry these rocks with us at all times during the retreat, and it represents the burdens we are still holding onto about the abortion.  During dinner that night T had to go to her room and retrieve her rock because we caught her without it.  And before bed I had to remind M she had to sleep with hers.  At least their rocks didn't have pointed edges like mine!  M got a Sharpie and started writing directly on her rock all the things that were hurting her, and I wrote a few words on mine "shame ... anger ... stolen ... unforgiveness ..."

Okay, onto day 2.  This was the day we told our "stories."  We had to mention things from our whole life including childhood, I guess so they could get the big picture.  I didn't cry very much during mine which I was glad for.  I felt like a really bad person by the end though.  The other two ladies didn't really cry either except M when she was talking about her brother dying.  The counselors mentioned that it sounded like I never really had a childhood (since I was in the hospital and sick so much), that I wasn't allowed to make decisions, and that I suffered two traumas (date rape & the abortion).  I guess it felt good to be validated and safe.  Lupe noticed I didn't like to be helped, but she commented due to my past I feel like a burden on people.

We also had mass in the morning before breakfast.  I followed along except for the wafer/wine thing.  Also, one of the songs mentioned "our cross" but I don't have a cross:  I know Jesus died for my sins so I don't need to carry one.

This day we did an exercise about Lazarus.  First they read the story from the Bible and then led us through a meditation putting ourselves in the story as Lazarus.  They told us parts of our body could feel "dead" after the abortion - for example, your heart (if you feel brokenhearted), your hands (if you feel powerless), your head (if you feel confused), your abdomen (if you've never had additional children), and feet was something but I can't remember.  The priest put fragrant oil in the sign of a cross on my head (to symbolize how they anointed Lazarus's body with oils as they prepared him for burial).  Then they went up to each of us and asked what part of our body felt dead. I picked my heart (brokenhearted) and my hands (for being powerless, indecisive and not being able to move forward), and they wrapped gauze around my shoulders and around my hands.  They read a few more things and then they acted out Jesus' words, "Lazarus, come out."  Lazarus wasn't dead anymore and my heart and hands weren't dead anymore.  I loved the symbolism and reminder in this one.  God can heal my heart and give me strength whenever I need it.  When I "came out of the cave," it felt so nice like I didn't have to live in darkness and shame and powerlessness.  I truly felt better.

Then we were to write an anger letter to someone.  I picked Dr. Ford (our family doctor).  I know I wrote one to him during the structured recovery group last spring, but I still had plenty to be mad about.  I pretty much said I was glad Dr. Ragsdale (abortion doctor) died in 2004 and I couldn't wait for Dr. Ford to die too.  Before I read my letter to everyone, I told the priest he was gonna hate me at the end (where I said I wished Dr. Ford would die).  After I read it, the priest told me it was okay to wish Dr. Ford was dead just not to actually kill him.

After this, M decided she could get rid of her rock (and so did T, for some reason).  They let M demolish hers with a mallet and T just threw hers in the yard.  I shouldn't judge them but I felt like I still had stuff to work through and figured they would too.

The next exercise was the Woman who touched Jesus' cloak.  They read the Bible story about how she bled 12 years and went to doctors to no avail, and how she was considered unclean and shunned by everyone.  She desperately made her way through the crowd hoping to just touch Jesus.  After she did, he turned around and said he felt power go through him and asked who touched him.  She said she did and Jesus said her faith healed her.  So the counselors guided us through another meditation where we put ourselves in the scene as the woman.  (This wasn't that much of a stretch for me, because before my hysterectomy I bled every single day for a couple years, and also I feel shunned and disgusting just because of who I am.)  They had a cloth representing Jesus' cloak draped over a cross in the middle of the room.  We were to imagine we were the woman and we would say what part of us was "bleeding" and then go up and touch the cloak.  The meditation touched me so deep and I couldn't stop crying but I went up and touched it twice -- once because my heart bleeds for all the people I miss who die or leave me, then another time for all the rejection I've felt (just like the woman feeling shunned).  This felt so good to me, like Jesus heard me and would have the power to take the pain in my heart away.

After dinner the exercise was about the woman at the well.  After the meditation, where you put yourself in the story and imagine meeting this incredibly loving person who knows all about you and still loves you and who says you can get living water from Him, we each took turns pouring water from a pitcher into a fountain in the room and said, "Yes, Jesus, I accept your living water."  This meditation and actions made me feel so loved and accepted!!!

Then was the most special meditation of all.  We did an exercise about our babies.  The meditation was so perfectly described that I could really imagine the field and flowers and seeing children and Claudia playing with Jesus.  We had our eyes closed and part of the meditation was the child coming to give me flowers.  As that was said, someone in real life pressed a little bouquet of real flowers in my hand.  I cried and cried.

After that meditation was a naming ceremony (if you hadn't given your baby a name yet).  Then we lit a floating candle in the fountain for our baby and said, "This light is for me and my baby ____" and named them.  The other two babies were Alice and Little Freddie.  Then we circled around the fountain and sang Amazing Grace and This Little Light of Mine.  We then filled out some papers for the baby's certificate of life.

After this, I decided I could throw that rock away.  So one of the counselors had me say what it represented to me, and I said anger, guilt, shame, unforgiveness and sorrow, and the counselor hurled it into a field for me!  Yeah!  It felt like I myself was doing it, it felt awesome!  He told me now I can't carry it literally anymore in my heart either.  In my journal I said, "I think I will make it through without it now."  (Nine days out, I am doing pretty good.)

Well, this night we signed up for an hour of "Adoration."  Apparently, Catholics take turns doing this all night.  T signed up for 10:00 so I picked 11:00 (even though that felt pretty late for me).  I suppose they said the rosary and other stuff during their turn to spend time with God, but all I did was write a poem for Claudia like a eulogy.

They also passed out bereavement dolls.  They are the size of a hot dog bun, shaped like a hot dog made out of white cloth, wrapped in a white flannel blanket with lace edges.  I also got a second one as a "Baby Debbie" to remind myself of what "little girl Me" needed so much when she was little, and write a letter to "her."  I wasn't sure if we were supposed to read that letter at the memorial service.  But I slept with both bereavement dolls.  I didn't really have much feeling about the dolls at that time.