cat

Well, Mr. made a toy for the cat. She loves it. Unfortunately it requires human participation. She sits by it and stares us down until one or the other of us picks it up and dangles it for her to chase.

Our feather duster fell apart. Cleverly, Mr. took the wooden handle, tied some left-over Christmas ribbon to it (yes, from last Christmas), and then stapled a few feathers to the ends of each ribbon. She could care less about most of it, but is fixated on the feathers. Something about that hunting instinct draws her right to those bird-like things.

We took her to the vet a few days ago and put her in her new carrier to get her there. Before that day she had been mildly curious about the carrier, casually in and out of it from time to time. Unfortunately, the visit to the vet was a bit traumatic. Now she wants nothing to do with the carrier. Tactical error.

So tonight I took her favorite thing and combined it with her least favorite thing. I drug the ribbons with the feathers in through one end of the carrier, then out the other. She was sorely tempted and stared at it a long time. After a little more coaxing, she went half-way into the carrier to pounce on the feathers, but then backed right out again. Well, it's a start.

No question that the airplane ride is going to confirm her hatred of the carrier, but we have to trick her into liking it before that.

Trying not to worry traveling half-way around the world with her. Way too much other stuff to get done before we cross that bridge.

erratic

So, last night the electricity went a bit crazy. We had dips in power, so that the light bulbs went very dim and the fans hardly spun. Then we would have huge surges, the lights gleaming too brightly and the fans whirling faster than they were meant to.

It lasted all night and part of the morning. I don't know what caused it, but it shorted out one of our surge protectors. But, that's why we have them, I guess. It kept the TV and fridge from blowing up—which is a good thing.

In a way, my emotions have been mirroring our electricity recently. Especially in regard to this move. I have times of excitement and optimism, followed by rather sad times. Up and down, cheery and gloomy. There are so many good things to look forward to. Also so many good things to leave behind.

Bah. The bittersweet nature of life and change and learning and leaving.

On a fun note, I bought a winter coat today. You will not understand the significance of this achievement until you know that 1)  I haven't had a new winter coat since before I was married and 2) The weather today was in the high 80's, the temps in the market were over 90, but I tried the coat on anyway, to make sure everything felt right. The only thing that didn't feel right was having a heavy winter coat on in those oven-like conditions.

Mr. and I also had a good laugh during coat-buying (he got one too) because we were very clumsy zipping them up. I never realized zipping up bulky winter coats was a skill one could lose. But there's no denying that we were both quite awkward about it.

And then there were the two good-bye meals we had today. Oh, not that we won't see those people again before we go, but it was the "let's have some quality time together" undercurrents that gave the meals a sense of poignancy. And I didn't take photos of the people we were with. And I kind of regret it.

sales

Today. Monday. The start of a whole new week. Last week I was at about 50%. Exercise, blog, cooking, about half of where I'd like it to be. I hope to get back on top of things this week. But I'm trying to be a bit forgiving with myself, because I know this next month is going to be crazy as we get ready to leave. There is only so much one can take on at once.

But I did jog this morning and it felt really good. I took some time to shoot photos as I walked from one place to another, and it was soooo enjoyable. It feels like I finally have room to breathe again, after about 3 really busy, breathless weeks.

Saturday was kind of a fun day. I took my calendars (which are finally printed, but that's a whole story in itself) and some of my photographs to a craft fair, where I rented a table and set my work out to see how they would sell.

What sticks out to me most about the day is watching people look at my photos. It's kind of a vulnerable, intimate moment. It's like I'm saying, "Hi. Here's how I see the world. I hope you like it." From what I could see, many people did like it. My display seemed to draw them and my photos made them smile. It was awesome. Unfortunately, few liked them enough to actually buy a piece.

I think part of my downfall is that they were photos. Many people probably looked at them and thought, "Well, I could probably do that if I tried." And, yes, many of the shots were scenes that are common enough around here. But it actually takes a lot of time and intentionality to really get good shots.

Regardless, it was really neat to see people enjoy my photography.

I cleaned up with the calendars, though, which helped with the financial end of things.

OK. Enough for tonight. Time to get to bed. Hopefully you'll hear a lot more from me this week. :-)

tags

Have you ever thought about how funny it is that, when we join a big group of people, we write our names on a big sticker and slap it somewhere on our shirt? Looking around at the seminar room full of people last week, it just struck me as kind of bizarre. But everyone had done it, obediently and without thinking twice.

Do you notice how silly you feel when you go out in public and forget to take your name tag off? But there is no embarrassment when everybody else is doing it.

I also realized today that I was due for a change in perspective. I have been taking a photo a day for over a year now. And what began as a pursuit of beauty, the practice of really seeing beauty at least once a day, has now become daily pressure to "get a good shot."

Now, I even enjoy it from that angle. There is something exciting about the hunt, the tracking down and capturing of a good shot. But it isn't the same thing as pursuing beauty. There is no conquest there. It's more about opening your eyes to and appreciating what is already there. It's about breathing and basking and being. I need to get back to that.

re-restart

Today is Tuesday. I awoke yesterday vowing that I would get back into the swing of everything. Exercise, blog, e-mailing—all those things I have let go during these busy weeks. Well, Monday didn't go as I planned.

But Tuesday…

I'm finally gaining some traction. I got up and jogged. I answered some old e-mails and composed a few new ones that were long overdue. I had a meeting with Mr. to see where we were in our preparations to move back to the US.

Which we will do one month from yesterday. Whew. Wow.

I will not start the count-down yet. (Maybe with the beginning of December…) but in honor of the big change coming our way, here's one thing I will miss, and one thing I won't, about living here:

I will miss the old cyclo guy who lives and works on our street. (He sleeps in his 3-wheeled bicycle chair, so basically the street where he works is his place of residence.)

I will not miss the sight of emotionally unstable individuals heady with power (aka: the military) roaming the streets with semi-automatic weapons.

identity

I met early this week with a woman. She is a very unhappy person, and always seems to be in crisis. In all honesty, I was not looking forward to the meeting.

I prayed and asked God to help me love her in the way He did. I read John chapter 1 first thing in the morning, and the phrase "grace and truth" seemed to stand out to me. I asked Him to show me how to be a voice of both grace and truth in her life today.

At some point during the conversation she revealed that one message that had come through strongly in her younger formative years was that a woman's worth was in bearing children and pleasing her husband. She began looking for those roles to give her significance.

With a sad laugh of both bitterness and irony she said, "Look at me. I'm almost forty and not married yet. Where does that leave me?"

With shock I realized this person has been waiting for over half her life for identity. Waiting for a husband to define her. Waiting for her life to begin and feeling worthless in the mean time. It explained a lot.

I tried to convey her great value in God's eyes regardless of role or achievement. I reminded her that her position as a daughter of God is what should define her. I told her she had a lot to offer.

She looked at me out of the corners of her eyes with a bemused smile, not believing me at all. I could feel her ache, her longing to embrace my words. Could it really be? And as soon as hope flickered it died instantly, smothered by years of self-loathing and rejection.

As we finished our talk I realized that I hadn't persuaded her or fixed her. But at least I spoke some truth. And I thanked God for answering my prayer, because He had helped me see her through His eyes.

again

So I seem to have dropped off of the daily blog schedule again. It's not that I'm sick. I'm OK, although I still have this weird lingering cough. I am, however, quite busy. I felt lucky to just stay one step ahead of the things I needed to do, and filled every hour with productivity. When I did have a few minutes free, I just wanted to waste them. I wanted the luxury of not doing anything.

Hence, the blog suffered. I did, however, keep taking photos each day. Some days were more visually successful than others, but I did make a point to take them.

That's about the only thing I kept up. I also let my exercise slide, and I haven't worked in an extended time with God yet, either.

It was the final push to get everything around for some seminars I have been organizing. I booked the meeting place and arranged meals, advertised the event and took registrations. Sent out information and collected fees. So, whew. Yes. I'm tired.

Plus I was trying to keep all the other balls up in the air while I juggled this very large one. Coaching, meetings, calendar. And on top of that we have pushed our departure date to move back to the US up a month, so all of those arrangements suddenly feel very immediate and urgent.

I didn't handle the stress that well this week. Even though things were fine and I had no doubt everything would come together, I worried a good deal. Lost sleep. Which, of course, only makes it harder for you to be successful at the very things you're worrying about.

Anyway, I will play catch-up again with photos and multiple random blogs. I don't know. Has my reliable once-a-day routine gone out the window forever? It kind of feels nice not to be so slavish about it.

passion

My husband loves me. I know that without question. He loves me in a very gentle, steady, faithful way. No, he is not demonstrative. He is not emotional or passionate. He is solid.

And that is what I want. Truly. I grew up in a home with a unsteady man who had extreme highs and lows of emotion. It is not a good way to live. I am so grateful for this rock-solid man who takes life in stride and enfolds me into his world in an unassuming, comfortable manner.

And yet, and yet…

My fickle, fickle, foolish heart. It wanders, wanders, into flights of fancy. It imagines worlds of adventure, danger, heart-pounding drama. And passion. I don't even mean of a physical, sexual type. I mean that intense protective fascination and delight with another. Breath-taking. Consuming.

Two fatal flaws with this practice:

One: I don't actually want to live that way. The lives people live in dramas on TV, the highs and lows, near-death experiences every week, fiery relationships—no one can function like that. It isn't the actually the life I want.

Two: The reality is that I am loved in that way already. The I'd-die-for-you kind of way. I know Mr. love runs deep and strong, even if he isn't very expressive about it. And beyond that, I am loved by Jesus even more purely, more passionately, than any human ever could. His pursuit, wooing, sacrifice, and desire for me is beyond even my imagination. Better than any movie or book could conjure.

Why, why do I run to fragments of falsehood, something imaginary, when I could instead be nestling deeply into the reality of True Love? When my mind wanders, it does just that—untrue to the two men in my life who love me most.

sigh.

listen

I spent a good bit of the day yesterday listening to people. I seem to be good at it, and even though I don't say much, people usually say it was really helpful to have talked things through. I also find it extremely fulfilling. But I came away from the conversations yesterday wondering, wondering.

I wondered why people seem so starved for someone to talk to. Is listening a lost art? Are most people so interested in their own thoughts and words that they don't give others a chance to talk? Why is it so hard for some people to be open and vulnerable with another? Are trusting relationships so rare?

Of course, with the people I met yesterday our stated goal in getting together is for me to listen and for them to talk. It is a little one-sided. I don't have many expectations for reciprocation. But it makes me really happy to build them up like that. It's so wonderful to be a steady presence in their lives, to see them calmed by a few hours of being with me.

It's kind of like their thoughts and feelings are stormy waves that just crash and swirl around in their heads, with no outlet. And then, once a week, they can just let it all flow out. I'm kind of like a big rock that their pent-up ideas can flow around and crash against, but I remain unshaken. And somehow in the process the waters still, the confusion gets sorted, the emotions settle. It's an amazing thing.

But the other thing I started wondering—and this is a new thought for me—is, who does that for me? Where's my listener? Mr. is a lot of wonderful things, but when I express concerns or troubled thoughts, he wants to fix things. And that's not what I'm looking for. It's not listening. It actually inhibits me from sharing freely with him, because I see it agitates him and he takes such responsibility on  himself to make things "OK".

I know I don't have such a strong need to process things verbally. It does help at times, for sure, but it isn't my only way to cope. But, sure, I'd like someone to just sit and listen to me from time to time.

On the flip side, however, I also wondered—briefly—if I would actually be able to sit and talk about myself the whole time. I would feel kind of selfish. I'm not sure if I could do it, without trying to turn to conversation to the other person from time to time.

Please don't get me wrong. I really like the ladies I met with yesterday, and am SO happy to fill this role in their lives. I don't think of them as selfish—I see them as courageous, struggling with so many things alone. I truly believe they need the outlet I provide for them. I'm just not sure I have the same need at the same level of intensity.

Maybe that's what makes me a good listener.