In Mourning

With all that is going on right now - the frantic holiday season, my upcoming one-year anniversary, Ross's many recent interviews, hopes to lead a new ladies' Bible study group and the unexpected passing of a young friend - I have been, until last night, too overwhelmed to write.  When too many thoughts and ideas crowd my mind, they are unable to flow as freely as they should.  Instead, they jostel each other, clamoring for space and voice, and, unable to move, they fester and rot.

Last night provided and unfortunate remedy to that.

The news of Melissa Lynch's sudden death yesterday was shocking and I know that most of us who called her our friend are numb, unable to process the fact that a vibrant and beautiful young lady and fellow actress is no longer with us.  I don't profess to have any answers to the painful, angry questions her passing has brought.  All I know is that I am praying to my God, the supplier of all needs, who will comfort those who mourn with the completeness of his love and mercy.

We need time to express our anger, our fear, our regret and our shock.  I don't believe that God condemns us when, in our confusion and outrage, we ask, "Why?"  I do believe that he wants us to run into his arms so he can bring us peace - although he doesn't always provide answers.  There likely isn't an answer that would satisfy us anyway.  Why so young a woman?  So beautiful and talented a friend?  Why so perfect a smile?  Yet, there is a measure of good that can emerge from all this...

Those of us who remain, who acted with her and therefore took a little part of her soul with us when we left Clarion, have regrouped.  People who have not had much contact, if any, in years, have found each other again, carrying the matching banners of mourning.  We have rediscovered common and beautiful memories - not only memories that involve Melissa and her great talent, but memories that remind us of why we fell in love with our art.  If we close our eyes, we can remember the glowing glory of standing under a single, golden spotlight...the giddy, nervous laughter of pre-show superstitions...the thrilling triumph of a standing ovation...the shared intimacy of creating lives and a histories out of nothing...

The radio station is frequently listen to, K-Love, often features a guest speaker during the morning show.  Yesterday, it was a pastor who has been encouraging his congregation not to make New Year's resolutions, but instead to choose just one word that will act as a lens through which they want to see themselves and their lives.  

The word that immediately came into my head as I drove the icy back roads to the bank yesterday morning was "relationship".  I had spent so many hours this past year fretting over not being a good enough wife, sister, daughter, friend, employee, Christian, leader.  I made myself sick comparing myself to people I considered more successful than myself.  I grew depressed and anxious, and more withdrawn than I had been previously.   All of the beneficial social and relationship-building skills I had gained through training at Starbucks, Dollar Bank and Berean Fellowship crumbled from disuse.  I wasn't spending much time with my friends.  I was sometimes reluctant to help at church, even though such work previously brought me joy.

It slowly dawned on me that feeding my insecurities was not the way to build and sustain healthy relationships.  I mean, I knew that and have always known that, but as I was driving, I just felt lightened by the reminder of that knowledge.  Relationships involve sacrifice, passion, effort and determination.  They rarely just happen, and even those that seem to happen organically still require nurturing and care.  I felt that God was reminding me about my duties to the people in my life with whom I have relationships: my husband, my family, my co-workers, my church and my friends.  And he reminded me that service to others cannot dwell in the same heart as self-loathing, so I must choose.

Just as I was beginning to make that decision daily, I was struck with the news of an old friend whose relationship I had let fade.  And I was filled with sadness and regret at both the news itself and the fact that I had lost touch with her - and myself.

Although I would much rather have been reignited by something other that the death of a charming young woman, I am determined that I will gather up the memories - and the potential - of passion into a beautiful bouquet and display them where I can see and enjoy them as often as a please...and allow them to remind me that nothing follows us to the grave but the relationships we have built.

Surgery, A Farewell Party and a Big Green Ogre

Life is good.

 

Not perfect, but good.

Last Thursday I had minor surgery for a small benign cyst in my right hand (I'd had the cyst for years, but it had recently begun to get bigger and slightly painful).  Not a lot of people knew I was planning it (despite the numerous facebook updates!) and were shocked to see me later in the week with a heavily wrapped hand.  When asked, I told them that Ross bit me.  The best part was that some people believed me.

I couldn't possibly have timed by surgery better, though.  This past weekend, my baby sister came home from college (and a fascinating missions trip to the Philippines) and I got to spend some quality time with her.  I learned that, in the Philippines, children pee on their siblings, toads never die, and that white people are magical.  Now, that's according to Jules, of course, so there may be a tiny bit of room for error.  But I'm pretty sure it's the gospel truth. 

On a more serious note about her trip, Jules went with a Christian organization from her college, The University of Wyoming (I have a bumper sticker!) and spent nearly two weeks on the islands.  This wonderful group of young people dug a well for a village that had been drinking dirty water, painted rooms in an orphanage, provided treats and clothing to children with none, presented a VBS for little ones, and shared the love of Christ with the forgotten.  It's not a coincidence that Julia left the States on Mothers' Day.  Although she didn't get to spend the day with her mom, she did give her a wonderful gift: she went out into the world and acted on all the wonderful things her mom had spent years teaching her.  

I am very, very proud of my baby sister.

On Sunday, my church threw a going-away party for our beloved flautist, Helen Kim, who is headed to NYC for her Masters degree in Early Childhood Education.  We will miss her so much.  Like her (now) fiance Aaron Perdue before her, Helen has charmed all of us with her sweet, humble nature and sincere love for Jesus.  Both Aaron and Helen have made lasting impressions on us with their musical talents and wonderful personalities.  It's selfish, we admit, but we all truly hope that God's ultimate plan for their lives brings them back to make their home in Pittsburgh.  But if that never happens, we know they'll always be a part of our family.

After Helen's party, Ross and I - and Jules, MomDee, Kaitlynn, Pastor Steph, Colleen and Kathryn - went to see Shrek: Forever After.  The following is a movie review (without spoilers), so if you haven't seen the movie yet (and you want to), you'd best stop here!

I liked it.

While it wasn't as innovative, clever or funny as either of the first two (or as dramatic as the third), it touched on some really important life lessons that most Disney movies tend to avoid.  For example: what happens after 'happily ever after'?  What do we do when we have everything we want, but are still unhappy?  While we often credit Disney for introducing the feisty, independent heroines who refused to be 'damsels in distress' (Jasmine from Aladdin is a great example), we forget that these princesses, too, are falling head-over-heels at age 16, running away from home, etc., and not presenting us real pictures of "true love".  Granted, big neon green ogres may also seem a little unrealistic, but they're easier to relate to than singing mermaids, sleeping princesses, and dwarf-hounded maidens.  Here we have an irritable protagonist with friends he doesn't always appreciate; a young woman who, while strong-willed, still dreams of true love and struggles to see herself as beautiful; unlikely courtships, pride and vanity, deception, and the answer to the questions asked earlier...

What happens after 'happily ever after' is that Prince and Princess learn to live together.  They fight, they love, they have children, they laugh, they are disappointed, they develop a routine, they forget to appreciate each other, they take each other for granted, they hurt each other, they forgive, they better reflect "real life" than most movies reveal.

What I liked, too, was the way the movie series presented the relationship between Shrek and Fiona.  They had their share of disagreements (often caused by pride or miscommunication) but they were also shown as loving: kissing, hugging and touching each other often.  While that may not be normal for ogres, I thought it was a great and subtle reminder of something we humans need for a healthy relationship: connection and compassion.  And, yes, the physical expression of those things.

Maybe I'm partial to the Shrek movies because, of all the film heroines I've ever encountered, my figure and personality most closely resemble Fiona's - as an ogress, of course.  Maybe I like them because Ross does a pretty darn good impersonation of most of the characters (including a particularly irritating version of Donkey).  Maybe it's simply because I have always appreciated a very clever, twisted take on favorite fairy tales.  Maybe it's because I secretly like rooting for the underdog.  Whatever the reason, I'm sure that this series will have a respected place in our DVD collection for years to come.

And, yes, I have asked Ross to take me to see Shrek: The Musical next March.  His reply is still pending.

I'll keep you updated, rest assured.

Ross Vs. The Snuggie

Those of our friends who have known Ross for a long time know his reputation.  They know that he's a friendly guy who loves Jesus, enjoys helping people make smart financial decisions, and eats almost everything except cheese.  He also has a reputation for being a little bit of a miser when it comes to the heating bill.  Jokes were made when we got engaged last summer; for some reason people assumed that Ross might break his strict 55-degrees year-round mentality.  For the sake of his wife, you know.

Fat chance.  The man will spend his last dime to send a missionary to Africa.  He often picks out classy jewelry for me and surprises me.  He never questions the grocery bill, no matter how many odd, exotic foods I've bought.  No, Ross is in no way a stingy man.  Unless we're talking utilities.  The boy is absolutely capable of living without light, other than the glow of the computer screen, and without power, other than the microwave and said computer.  I assume the neighbors think he's genuinely nocturnal.  Knowing this, and knowing that my marriage would leave me out in the cold, so to speak, I put just one thing on my Christmas list last year.

A Snuggie.

Mock them as overmarketed blankets if you will, but when I was staying with my dad and stepmum Deana, I absolutely coveted hers.  She would sit, bundled up in the living room, managing her eBay website on her laptop while my dad watched The History Channel.  She looked enviously comfortable.  Ross had just bought me a netbook, and I imagined I'd be "snuggied up" typing my blogs and short stories, sipping a cup of tea (with milk and sugar, thank you) after I cooked him a delicious meal.  Oh, it would be heavenly!

It was Deana's mother, in fact, who bought me the Snuggie.  I didn't use it right away, as the real chill of winter still lay ahead.  In fact, in the excitement of being a newlywed, I forgot about it entirely until about a month after the wedding.  That weekend, a magnificently huge blizzard crushed the northeastern United States and draped Pittsburgh in mounds and mounds of velvety, pure white snow.  Beautiful.  Breathtaking.  And very, very nippy.

This was around the time when I realized that Ross was a sheet-thief.  He'd unthinkingly rip the covers from me, and I'd be left steadily nudging and whimpering at him until he realized what he'd done and returned a portion of the comforter to my side of the bed.  After several nights of this, I got smart and figured that, if I wrapped myself in the Snuggie before I got under the covers, even if he accidentally pulled them off, I'd still be pretty darn warm.  While this technique worked well for me personally (also helping me to avoid my hubby's ice-cold hands and feet), Ross's hopes of cuddling were dashed nightly.  Apparently, when your wife is tucked tightly into a fleece burrito, romance is very difficult. 

When he learned that I would not be relinquishing my Snuggie in favor of him anytime soon, Ross launched a campaign of hatred against it.  He called it names.  He tried to hide it from me.  He told me it ran away.  He threatened to cut it up into little pieces with his knife.  Then he changed tactics.  He requested to wash it for me, and after he'd dried it as well, he reported in a Marlon Brando-esque murmur that he'd just "wanted to put it through da ringer".

Warmer weather, and not my husband's vows of blanket banishment, is what actually unwrapped me from my fleecy new friend.  Although, I am pretty certain that, unless we're able to have new, draft-free­ windows installed this year, the Snuggie will be again keeping me company on cold winter nights - with or without Ross's consent!

Heck, it's cheaper than Equitable gas, anyway.

Sharing the Covers (and Other Newlywed Challenges)

My husband is gentle and kind.  He is thoughtful, insightful and expressive.  He is motivated and has an impressive work ethic.  He dresses well.  He appreciates my cooking and helps to clean up after dinner.  He also likes to vacuum, and he enjoys grocery shopping with me.

He also steals the freakin' sheets. 

This little "quirk" didn't how up until about two months into our marriage.  Just as I was beginning to warm to the idea of sharing a bed with another human being for the rest of my life; just as I was beginning to love snuggling up to his ridiculously overheated body and freezing cold feet, he changed the rules of the game.  It wasn't subtle either.  He didn't employ the "sneak 'n' steal" technique - you know, when you tug the covers your way, inch by inch, over the course of an entire night, and your spouse wakes up to wonder where the comforter went.  No, this was blatant.  This was the "as-soon-as-you-get-comfortable-and-are-drifting-off-to-sleep-I-will-rip-the-covers-from-your-body-and-mercilessly-expose-you-to-the-bitter-cold-drafts-in-the-bedroom" technique.

While I believe that he doesn't do it on purpose, it's one of the things we're going to have to deal with - as adults - in our marriage.  We're learning how to mesh two dramatically different sleep schedules as well.  While we both work day shifts for our jobs, Ross is used to staying up until after midnight, reading or messing around on the computer.  I, on the other hand, like to curl up in bed with a crossword puzzle at ten o'clock, beg Ross to come to bed, and fall asleep by a quarter after.  Ross "rectifies" this by simply nudging me awake for a goodnight kiss, rolling over and falling asleep.  THEN STEALING THE COVERS.

While his cover-stealing treachery was a shock to me, I had a few bombshells of my own to drop.  Apparently, I am obsessed with reading and comparing nutrition labels.  This is a relatively new phenomenon that I didn't even realize until I began cooking for Ross.  Though I taught myself how to cook in college, I wasn't concerned in any way about the quality of the food I was eating.  I was just happy that it didn't always come out of a can or a tray!  A few years ago, when I began to become more conscious of my weight and health, I also grew more aware of what I was actually eating.  Getting the best possible "bang" for my caloric "buck" became a game, an obsession.  I often make my own homemade salsa or pasta sauce so I can slash carbs and salt.  I'm hardly a health food nut, but I am always willing to spend a few cents more to buy a product with more fiber, less sodium, or a lower cholesterol content.   But that means reading those labels and comparing them for everything!  Poor Ross.  He's been the recipient of many merciless lectures about how Ho-Hos will kill him, and how the spicy, sodium-laced deli meats he likes to pile high on white bread will rob his future children of their father.  While I know these things are valid points, I also know I need to back off and let the man make his own choices.  It's hard because both our fathers have diabetes, and high blood pressure runs in our family.  Neither of us are as physically active as we need to be, but how will my nagging going to help encourage him?

It won't any more than his cover-stealing is going to encourage me to kiss him goodnight!