Snippets

Thoughts that have nothing to do with each other.

Rain
It’s been so long since it has rained consistently that I find myself waking up at night surprised to hear it. A comfort has become a novelty.

Film
“The Descendants” is an exquisite study of grief. Grief is messy, awkward and strange. We make odd choices, cling to strange people and shut out the ones who want to help. Eventually we are able to scrape it together and return to life; a new, unfamiliar definition of normal.

Travel
On a recent trip to the Northwest there was a short time, early in the morning, when the waters of Oyster Bay were perfectly still. No people, no boats, no birds diving for breakfast. A smooth reflection of trees untouched by waves or ripples.

Life
He saved her from a tragedy, and she goes everywhere with him. She is silent, and approaches with a friendly wag, but waits a few feet away until I reach out a hand in greeting. Her back is soft and bony all at once, and her gentle nose nudges my knee. I have never heard her make a sound. It’s almost startling when she appears around my desk or in the hallway, and I think I frightened her once when I gasped. She never stays long, returning to her master’s side. I wish she could tell her story.

Overheard
“It’s the American dream!” said the man with a laugh. “And if you’re American, it’s a nightmare.”

Future
Anticipation is wonderful because something long-awaited is on its way and terrible because it hasn’t yet arrived. Something wonderful is close but all the details haven’t yet fallen into place; I want to rush toward it as fast as possible but don’t want to overlook any important preparation.

Article

This is a very good article. I have written about this issue before. See here. It makes a marriage more difficult, but not impossible.

http://www.russellmoore.com/2012/01/23/should-i-marry-a-man-with-pornography-struggles-my-response/

Popular Destinations

I frequently get email promotions and discounts from various hotel chains. Today's shouted "Save up to 20% at Popular Destinations!"

But I don't want to go where everyone else goes. Right now I want a vacation of solitude. A cottage on the beach where it's just me, the waves, the sand, the crying seagulls. A cabin deep in the woods next to an untouched stream. A camper parked beneath a mountain, sharing the silence and the sunsets.

I'm not opposed to sharing it with good friends, but I've never been drawn to the packed beaches of Cancun or the swarming streets of Vegas. There are famous places I'd love to see, but sometimes...I just want nature, pure and simple.

Marriage and the Modern Sitcom

For the past few evenings I’ve been at our new home unpacking and organizing while Matt is officiating basketball games and other such obligations. I turn on the TV while I work for the sake of background noise (being home alone is definitely not one of my favorite things).

On Wednesday the show I usually watched was postponed, and the next channel up was showing the new sitcom “Up All Night." Less than 5 minutes in I was totally disgusted by it. The main characters are struggling to regain intimacy with each other in the early months of parenthood and attempt to schedule a night when they can have time with just each other. Several nights pass where they can’t make it work. Mid-week the wife comes home exuberant and ready to focus on her husband. He’s sitting on the couch in sweatpants, playing a video game. She starts to cuddle up to him, and he, not even pausing the game, informs her that he has already pleasured himself because he thought she was working late. She stomps off. The laugh track roars. I almost threw a bottle of window cleaner through the TV.

Was that situation seriously just played for laughs? Do you have any idea how soul-crushing that would be for a wife to hear? “I’m sorry, honey. My personal needs were so great that I couldn’t wait an extra half-hour for you to get home. Yes, I’m telling you that I don’t need you in this marriage. Yup, I know that makes you feel unattractive and unneeded. So what if we’ve been planning on this all week? My needs have been satisfied, and now this video game requires my full attention. Go away.”

I haven't been though it yet, but I know having a newborn is no walk in the park. I know that there will be long stretches of sleeplessness and frustration. But that kind of callous act is like tearing stitches out of a healing wound. Pregnancy and childbirth are awesome but also physically traumatic, and regaining the energy and desire for intimacy takes time. Obviously the husband will be ready before the wife is, but taking care of your own needs while completely ignoring your spouse is no way to strengthen a marriage in a time of hardship. There are many ways to be intimate without actually having sex. Focus on that first and rebuild the foundation.

Even if he no longer felt “the need” he should have turned off that TV and focused on his wife. Intimacy to him seems to be only about his satisfaction. Once he has been satiated, nothing else matters. And that will kill a marriage faster than almost anything else.

I could probably go one for hours about this show and several other popular sitcoms, but I won’t (at least not now). I could see some positive elements in the show: their wildly successful friend Ava has become dissatisfied with her glamorous yet shallow relationships and longs for something real. She begins dating a single dad who will hopefully show her what responsibility really means. Reagan and Chris do love each other, but often show it in very crude and self-centered ways. Humor is a vital ingredient to successful marriages and parenting, but true humor should never come at someone else’s expense. Build each other up, don’t tear them down.

Overall, the moments that could be considered heartwarming in that show are few and far between. In the end it is yet another prime-time stab at marriage and the (apparently) hilarity of selfishness and dysfunction. Marriage today is suffering enough already – does it really need to be ripped apart even more?

New beginning

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end…”

                                                                                         -Semisonic





I think our new beginning from last fall has finally come to an end and we are about to begin again. It’s a life restart. A second chance to make it, really make it, on our own.

Friday we got the call that our application had been approved. Saturday we began organizing our long-stored belongings, preparing for the move across town. Sunday we planned, and Monday we started packing, anticipating 9 AM the next morning, when the new place would officially be ours.

Tuesday at 8:45 AM I sat in the car and sobbed because we had hit an unexpected wall.  I should have expected it with every obstacle we’d been through to get to that point, but it still hit me like a falling piano. My pride crumbled as we called our parents asking for help, then called the realtor’s office and told them we had been temporarily delayed. I sat stiff and red-eyed as we arrived at the bank to ask for a high-interest cash advance on our credit card. The joy of the early morning was gone. I prepared to settle back into familiar disappointment.

But the bank representative who helped us was kind and encouraging. The lady processing our lease talked us through the paperwork with a smile even though we were over an hour late. The keys were put into our hands and we unlocked our front door for the first time. I didn’t show happiness as much as I could have, and I apologize to Matt for that. But quietly, tearfully, I was happy. I am happy.

We still have a long, uphill battle to defeat debt, but we’ll make it. We can’t run out and buy fancy new things for our house, but so what? After having our belongings in storage for 14 months, it will all seem new to us. And new isn’t what’s important anyway. The important thing is what we make out of what we have.

It may not seem like a lot, but it is to me. I’m ready to make that house our home.

Every drop counts

We got rain this past weekend.

While Matt and I were away in Illinois, 2.5 inches poured down on central Texas. Yes, 2.5 inches hardly affects the long-term destruction of the drought, and yes, our room at my parent's house flooded while we were away, but that doesn't change the fact that rain is welcome and wonderful.

I turned on the TV Saturday night and almost jumped with joy that the Rangers game was experiencing a rain delay. The next day our plane bounced through a storm and touched down on a rain-soaked Houston tarmac. The past three days have remained cloudy and cool, and a few drops fell as we left the restaurant after lunch today.

As we walked to the car I happily held out my hand to catch the drops. A well-dressed, middle-aged woman with designer sunglasses and stylish hair looked up from her smart phone to enjoy the sight of rain. "Every drop counts, doesn't it?" she said to me with a smile.

"Yes it does," I agreed.

It really does.

Animal Escapades (Part 3)

18.

Since mid-July, 18 raccoons have been lured by the irresistible bait of homemade, hand-cut peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Big raccoons. Little raccoons. Timid raccoons. Angry raccoons. It seems that no matter how many are caught, more will come. They appear at all hours of the day and night.

I got home one Friday afternoon and a raccoon raced past my car and up the nearest tree. He clung to a high branch, panting with exhaustion. How far had he come to reach the cooling waters of our decorative pond? He descended the minute we were inside and sat beneath the pond’s waterfall, soaking up the downpour.

Due to raccoons taking up residence in the eves of our roof, Papa recently set the trap much closer to the house.10 minutes after it was set I heard it snap shut. The porch light revealed a closed but empty cage. As he worked to reset it I noticed the escapee watching from the garden shed roof only a few feet away. The moment the house door closed he came down and began pulling the sandwich out through the bars. Piece by piece he pulled out a full quarter, climbed back to the shed roof and enjoyed his snack. For the second quarter he brazenly walked in, failing to trigger to poor, tired trap. The third he pulled through the bars again. He disappeared after that and we thought he was done for the night.

The next morning he snarled from inside the cage as we left for church. His greed had overcome his common sense, and he’d ventured in to pick up the crumbs. This was no cowering raccoon like the first - he hissed and growled and dashed his head against the bars as I approached.

“I admire your style,” I told him, “But your pride tripped you up.”

How good is a raccoon’s sense of direction? Have any walked the miles back to our yard only to be captured a second time?

I suppose the moral is this: raccoons will do anything for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Jury’s still out as to whether they prefer it cut into squares or triangles.