Monday, July 30, 2012

The Well

I have written a few blogs and decided not to post them. I have a tendency to do that. I review, decide I've gone too far, or it's too personal, or something like that. And then I don't post them.

So I really need to get a last one in while it's still July. I have so many things swirling around in my head lately that make it impossible to enjoy the here and now. So here's a blog post, now.

I haven't really changed my mind about this--my favorite story from the bible is the "Woman at the Well". I don't know exactly what it is, since most themes from the bible are repeated over and over, you can find them anywhere, and this one is pretty standard for messages, but it hits me every time.

It's hot, it's miserable, like this summer is, and a woman that he really shouldn't be talking to is getting water too, in the middle of the day. She's the only one there, because lots of people disapprove of her "lifestyle". She's alone. Maybe she just wanted to avoid people. I bet her head, like mine, was full of a thousand worries, and doubts about herself. She was probably a mess.

He asks her for water, which is weird. Just drinking water from her cup would have made him unclean, but he doesn't care (because clean is bigger than unclean) and he has some more important things to worry about. She says something like, "um, are you crazy?" and He tells her he has living water. He says, if you knew who I was, you would have asked me for living water, and I would have given it to you.

When I was a T.A. for a music class I read a review of a choral piece someone had seen. I'd never seen was written by a young woman, and told this story. At the part where Jesus mentions "living water", the writer described that one person said "living water" and then another, and more, adding sound until suddenly all the voices met, and said "living water" in this big wall of sound harmony. This is what I picture happening in her head, as she realized that the guy she's talking to is not just a normal guy. Living Water, she's thinking, I need that, I don't know what it is. I need it.

So she says, "ok, I want the living water." and he says, "ok, go get your husband". And she says, "i don't have one". I think she usually lies about this, but she decided to be honest. He says, "it's true, you've had 5 husbands, and now you're just playing house with a guy." And I picture him telling me, "it's true, you've had 5 doughnuts, and there's one in your pocket now." And at that moment, I'd feel known. Not convicted, or pardoned, just known.

And she says, "ok, I see you know stuff. You must be a prophet." she asks him a religious question, because that's where we always go....where are we supposed to worship?" She wonders. "Some guys say over here, some guys say over there." Probably they fight about it often. She wishes she had a good answer.

He says, you know, a time is coming when you will worship in spirit and truth, and the location isn't going to matter.

She says, "huh, you mean when Jesus comes?"

And he says, "yeah. That's who I am." And I bet she breathed out for the first time in the whole conversation.

This is who I want to meet every day. A God who knows me fully. Who calls me out, and who doesn't want to have a discussion with me about which church is better. Someone who offers living water. Because I'm not positive what it is, but it sounds fantastic.

Friday, July 20, 2012


A New Song about loss....I thought after hearing about the shooting I wanted to post the words (though I did not write it for this).

Little Boy Blue
COme Blow Your Horn
The Sheep's in the Meadow
The Cow's in the corn
My Little Girl plays with her ball across the street
And the river is five miles deep
The river is five miles deep

You left that morning
Without a word
With barely an image
Nothing to be heard
You slipped from my hands, and my heart skipped a beat
But there are some things you just can't keep
And the river is five miles deep
The river is five miles deep

I talk to him about you
You imagine I do
And his words predictably are few
It's noticeably heartbreaking
And somewhat sweet
But the river is five miles deep
The river is five miles deep

I pray I recover, I walk in these shoes
I sing everything set to somebody's blues
I wonder if I'll ever stop missing the beat
And I wish I could forget how to weep

But the river is five miles deep
Your river is five miles deep.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

The Distance Between Us

Today was a hard day, but I just read the blog I wrote on July 8th and I can't believe how MUCH better I feel! I guess, maybe, the miscarriage took a while, physically? No more headaches. I am taking an insane amount of iron, and still not testing in a normal range. I TELL YOU, I have trouble absorbing it. That, or somewhere in my body I am bleeding. I am really hoping it's the former.

I swam today during my break of teaching 12 students. It was really nice. Probably the best part of my day. In my swimming, I feel like the water washes away the day. I feel like nothing is going wrong. I feel grateful, hungry, happy, thin.

This summer has been so overwhelming. Financially, it's been so tough. We are now swamped with miscarriage bills. We just paid $500 to fix our air conditioner in the middle of a record-hot drought. When I say "paid" I mean we piled it on to a credit card. Hubby told me, "let me worry about it. It's mine this time" knowing how sick it makes me that we are still piling on debt. But I am not sure I have let it go.

I have been teaching students who feel they "have" to take lessons to make their teachers happy. They are often untalented, uninterested, and not working on anything I tell them to. They are not planning on continuing, and their parents send me stupid messages, trying to make sure that their student's failure to to their lesson, get better, or become someone DIFFERENT is somehow the voice teacher's fault. THIS IS NOT MY CALLING. There is a part of voice teaching that I adore. It is not this.

The loss of Baby Blue. That was another part. I decided to name the baby I lost. But I don't want a real name...just a color. Just the way I felt. Baby Blue. And the physical problems. And the heat! Boy I can complain, can't I?

So I sent Baby S away. I thought it would help us bond, give us time to get things done. And it did, it does. But I am MISSING HER SO BADLY! It's killing me!

Now all I want is a new fall. I want the students I love back! I want to sing.

Today I started reading my favorite book again. Well, I put it in the car, with the intent to read it. But that's a Start :) What's So Amazing About Grace I am hoping to fall in love with Jesus again. Because honestly, everything's pretty good when you're in love with Jesus. Ain't no religion gives you that, I promise. I feel like I can barely live without hubby now. But I definitely know who my great love story is. It's kind of all I know.

That being said, I listened to a lot of talk radio on the way to and from Michigan last week. TOO MUCH. Enough to get mad and get happy and laugh and cry. I learned the following things: 1. I love shows where people read excerpts from their own books. 2. I wish there were more stories on the radio (like the pre-tv show era) and 3. I think I'm getting more liberal politically now that I don't live in NYC. Ironic, huh?

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Baby Blessing

I have spent a while now asking myself when recovery will come. When will I stop feeling this strange mix of overly-emotional, somewhat reclusive, insanely tired, sleeping all the time, terrible headaches, crazy attachment to my husband, and a short fuse?

I am starting to realize that some of these must be physical. I think perhaps I am severely anemic, experiencing the symptoms of extreme fatigue, headaches, irritability and dizziness. These symptoms are going on all the time, and I feel like I can't get to be myself again. I take my daughter to the park but I immediately feel a terrible headache and a desire to nap. I just want to lay down. I sleep for 9 hours and wake up "ok". When I first moved to Iowa I sprung out of bed. Where is THAT me?

So I am seeing a doctor on Tuesday. The man who last I saw was telling me that a miscarriage would be tough emotionally, and that hubby and I should "communicate" a lot. I still don't exactly know what that meant. I do know that hubby has been in extra-care mode lately, really stepping up and being very loving. I feel like I wish I could be with him all the time. We haven't had an argument, and I haven't felt negatively about him in a while. Unfortunately, I think some of this "ease" of marriage is brought on by my tiredness and sense of loss. I am too fatigued to argue and too grateful for what I do have to rock the boat.

I am submitting for an audition next month, because I still feel like I have failed if I don't go and do it. I need to just step up and do it unless I have peace about not doing it. I think. Or something like that. That means I have to practice. Ahem. Hopefully that will come.

I wanted to write that when a 3 year old is bad, they are very very bad. But when they are good, they are miracles. Blessings. My quiet time with Baby S, my days out with her, are just so wonderful. She wants me to lay down with her while she goes to sleep at night. When I do she just wants to hug me a thousand times. She laughs and gives me these huge, healing, insanely wonderful hugs. Then she says she loves me. Then eventually I get frustrated and say she HAS to go to sleep. But secrety I just adore the hugs too.

Everything is exciting to her, everything makes her gasp with excitement. She is in love with me in a way I've never experienced before. And she is a massive, massive blessing.

RIght now she is torturing me with Baby TV. It's really awful. Every few minutes she turns around and tells me "I LOVE this part mom. THis is my favorite." It's doesn't really matter which part it is.

And later she'll scream at me and throw herself on the ground because I didn't let her puncture the juice box with the straw (because I forgot), but she'll woo me back pretty shortly after. It's not so different from Opera, when I think about it.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Heat, Storms, Figurines, Death

I am writing! It feels like a miracle.

For the last few weeks I have imagined writing on this blog over and over. I have imagined talking about the miscarriage with PROFOUND observations. I sometimes write it in my own head as I walk along the street, or in my car. I write and write, and then I get on the computer and I do something else.

It's so amazingly hot and miserable here. It's worse than winter, in my opinion. I am trapped inside, not wanting to do anything outdoors. My child is insane and bouncing off the walls. I go to the gym, at least. She gets nothing. If I take her out for a bit, she asks to be held. I am panicking--does she need more nutrition, have I not trained her to be active? Am I the horrible mom I imagine I must be?

But it's just damn hot. So that's why she wants me to hold her. NO ONE wants to walk out there. Hubby reassures me that it will be cooler next week. I am praying earnestly, fervently, for weather I can take her out in. A walk....a wagon ride. Maybe a ride on our bikes!! It all sounds delicious.

About 5 days ago we had a raging (but short) storm. 80mph winds knocked out power for about 20,000 people in our city, amazing. Over here, thank God, we kept power. But the storm managed to pick up our daughter's "play house" and throw it across the lawn, into our satellite dish. And so we are halfway through a week with no tv. I thought I would miss it less...*sigh*.

Last week hubby we decided we should sell some things at craft fairs this fall. He brought home 20 figurines to paint. On a random week, this might not have been so appealing, but this's a dream. I am painting, painting, painting. I find myself, in every small moment, painting animal figurines. I don't know if I'm obsessed, or if it's therapy. But I am hoping to sell them in the fall and pay for some medical bills. Good plan, right?

Another nice thing about the painting is that hubby and I do it together. So late at night, without tv, we sit around the table and chat while we paint our little ceramic animals. It feels nice. It might be what I need right now.

Summer brings about a lot of reminders of death. Our neighbor lost her father. He was 91. He died of a completely natural cause. He had a long, fruitful life, and died with people around him who loved him. She still cries when she talks about it. A few recent deaths in this area came way too young. Someone I know recently wrote about the death of a 29 year old man, after suffering with cancer, leaving behind his children who will barely remember him.

And right now, I feel the loss of a child I never knew.

Sometimes my faith is wonky. Sometimes I struggle with what I really believe. But one thing that stays with me...something I really believe which I think many people don't, is that death is wrong. It's unnatural. I don't think we were made to die. I think this is some natural part of life's experience that we should accept or embrace. And I don't really want to do that. I don't ever want to lose anyone I love. I want only to see them again in another world, made perfect, dancing around with God, throwing off the shackles of a pretty mean world they left behind.

Weirdly, with all the things I have trouble embracing, that has a pretty big hold on my heart.