I'm not a Christian

My beloved older sister recently told me to ... "be 'christian like'" in a comment on my previous blog. There's a problem with this statement. I don't want to be "Christian like". I want to be "Christ like". And there's a HUGE difference.

I dislike being put into the Christian mold. It is a mold that has been known for hate, hypocrisy, greed, and everything that goes against what Christ stood for. Christians act their best on Sundays, then ignore the fact that God exists the other six days of the week. Or, you have those that are in church whenever it's open, some to seek God, most to brag about how often they attend church. I can't stand that. God isn't a building. Don't brag about going to a building. It's not impressing anyone. You shouldn't be bragging to begin with. It creates the persona of "holier than thou" which is what most Christians are known for.

I want to be a follower of Christ. I want to bear His image daily. I want people to come to know the Lord simply because His love has shone through me, not because I've shoved a tract or the Bible into their face and told them they were going to Hell. That irritates me. I try my hardest to reflect Christ's character and to be a good follower of Him, and I fail continually. Until I reach Heaven, I will always fail (I know, quite depressing...). I'm still trying to figure out the concretes of my faith. I can't really tell you why I believe in God. I can only show you. I love my Lord, more than anything else, more than my husband or my son. He is my redeemer, my healer. I will never be able to deny Him, should I ever want to.

My God is an awesome God. I will praise Him for all of my days. He has been nothing but wonderful to me, giving me my son, saving my life. I owe Him everything. I still have questions, but I know they'll be answered in time.

So, please, don't put me in the "Christianity" mold. Put me in the "Follower of Christ" mold. Because that's what I am.

I Just Want to be Happy

I have been really down in the dumps for the past week or two. Normallly I don't let things bother me as much as they have been lately. I've been coming down pretty hard on myself, between trying to keep the house clean, trying to take care of Balian, and arguing with John. Life just seems never ending right now, and if Jesus were to come back this minute, I'd be more than happy to jump into His arms. And that's with my irrational fear of Heaven.

I'm trying to think of the things that make me happy... Random researching, writing, reading a good book or two (hundred), sleeping, dreaming, photography... And I'm trying to get back into these things. However, when I become depressed, all of it takes a back seat. I become complacent, boring. Right now I feel like I don't really have a place in this world. I feel like the awkward kid I have never been.

I also feel too much pressure from everyone in my circle of people. Pressure to be a good mom. Pressure to be a good wife. Pressure to lose weight. Pressure to look good. Pressure to have that bubbly personality. Pressure to always put on a good front. Pressure to keep a clean home. Pressure to be a good student. Pressure to be a good Christian. Pressure to always be there for someone else when they are never there for me.

I'm starting to buckle underneath all of the pressure. And I don't know what to do. I am incredibly hard on myself, and I tend to degrade myself on a daily basis. Because I'm not living up to the examples and the pressures everyone is putting on me.

What makes me happy? Being with my son and my husband. Doing random research just because I can. Reading, writing, and photography. Dreaming. Sleeping.

But it's never enough.

I dislike days like this

Sometimes it just seems like the world falls down around your shoulders, and you begin to lose hope, and faith in god because things aren't going as you plan. I know that's how it is for me right now. My life right now is definitely not as I had foreseen it when John and I married. John would have finished his masters, had a job as a counselor, I would be done with my English degree, raising Balian, John would be home everyday, life would be good. Instead, John's gone, I'm raising Balian on my own, still not done with my degree, and every day that passes hurts more and more.

I'm trying so hard to keep faith in God, and to remember that He has a plan for me, even though I don't know it, and I can't see it, He has me covered. But it's so hard to remember when the thing you want most in the world is, literally, thousands of miles beyond your reach.

*sigh*

I guess it's time to quit whining and get back to work.

Year in Review

One year ago today, I was sitting in a MEPS processing center, eight months pregnant, waiting on John to swear in so that I could tell him good bye. I stood with him while he waited to get the order to get on the van. He was the last person in, saying good bye to me and his unborn son. That's the first of maybe three times I've ever seen my husband cry like that.

It's been a very long, very wild year. Three weeks after John left, I was induced and gave birth to a 6 pound 6 ounce baby boy. Two months later, Balian took his first out of state trip to watch daddy graduate from Basic Training, the first time John was able to see his little boy. A  month later, a plane trip to Arizona for a four day weekend. The next month, a plane trip to Virginia. In November, back to Arizona. That time, John was actually able to stay with us in our room. The best four days of my life. John came home in December for three weeks of leave (effectively putting him ten days in the hole with leave), then off to Korea (the third of the three times I've seen my husband cry so hard). We moved back to Virginia, I moved out of an old place, into a new, and I feel like I'm starting life over again with each move.

This year has not been easy for me. I'm glad everyone has such a high regard for me, saying that I'm so strong to deal with it like I have, how they wouldn't be able to. Truth is, I'm just as weak as anyone else. My tear stained pillow can recount the number of nights I've fallen asleep crying. I miss him so terribly, my heart literally aches with the pain. I can't, however, focus on that when I have a child depending on me to raise him. So I put on a happy face and forget, or a time, that I'm separated from the man whom I love above all else in this world. It's amazing what you can do when you're forced to do it.

Not a day goes by I don't wish that I had spoken up, told him not to join, but then, I'd be depriving him of his dream. He loves his career, and for that, I'm glad. I'm happy that he's found his calling, I'm happy that he's found his sense of purpose in this. I'm happy that he's happy.

I really have learned a lot about myself in the past year. I figured out I don't need my husband there to help me breathe (before he left, we were so attatched at the hip you would have mistaken us for siamese twins). I've come to the realization that I'm stronger than what I give myself credit for. I've also come to value time a whole lot more. It's amazing what just one minute can mean when you're waiting for an airline to start boarding. I've also come to realize how incredibly blessed I am to have friends and family who have held my hand throughout almost all of this.

It's not been easy, and I can't say I've enjoyed this ride (I've never like roller coasters), but we've made it this far. In seven months, he'll be home again, hopefully for at least a year and a half to make up for the year and a half lost. Until then, I'll continue despising the Army, and he'll continue doing whatever it is that he does.

His alone

I don't have movie star glamour.
I don't wear make-up.
I have little patience.
I have too many flaws to count.
I'm not the world's greatest mom.
I'm not the world's greatest wife.
I fall into sin daily.
I fall from grace every minute.

BUT

I don't need the movie star looks
I don't need the make up
I have patience where it counts
I have love despite my flaws
I'm not the world's worst mom
I'm not the world's worst wife
I fall into bed happy
I fall into His arms daily.

I am loved
I am content
I am happy
I am His.

A Romantic What?

I was raised in the Disney generation. I idolized characters like Belle and Pocahontas and Jasmine. I wanted a prince like the Beast or Aladdin or John Smith. I wanted the romance. The never ending, happily ever, romance.

And thirteen years later, I was slapped in the face with reality.

Life isn't a Disney movie (I know, don't have a heart attack). Life is comprised of situations. What you make of those situations determines how your life is, ends up being, etc.

So now back to romance.

I read way too much. I also have a very big imagination. I'm trying to come up with the most romantic evening physically possible for John. And I'm at a complete loss. I'm thinking dinner, a bed and breakfast, absolutely NO Balian, just for a night. Lots of cuddling, lots of being held, perfect alone time. His idea is staying in the house and going to bed and cuddling there after putting monkey to sleep. NOT romantic for me. Is there a middle here?? I'm at a loss to try and find it. I'm still trying to live out my fairy tale ending and he's living in reality land. My house is not romantic. I know I can try to make it that way, and I know we have before, but I'm in need of difference. I'm in need of a night with my husband away from my child (who is currently screaming at my feet because he knows dinner is done). Romance, after you're married, is so hard to come by. Romance after you have a child is just impossible.

I'm open to any and all suggestions. I want a night out. He wants a night in. I want a candle lit bubble bath, but our tub doesn't hold two people. He wants sex and then sleep. How do you fill two very different people's desires??

Today...

I am feeling incredibly accomplished at the moment. Balian and I were both up and ready to walk out of the house for morning errands by 10:30, an unprecedented event! I drove by Once Upon a Child to see if they had a jogging stroller sitting outside (I would like to get one before  Balian comes home). Then we went to a furniture store. When I first moved in, I received a coupon from them for a free table lamp. It's not the prettiest of things, but it's free! Then we went to my storage unit to get what I thought were boxes of books but were instead boxes of John's school notebooks from Emmanuel. I also picked up my microwave!! I have a microwave again! And a toaster! This makes me incredibly excited! When we got back to the house, I started cleaning and unpacking the boxes. I have an idea to turn some of our books into a night stand. It looks really good so far, but I need some more books. I still have 100-200 left at the old place. I only have a little under two weeks to get the rest of my stuff out of there, but I'm still terrified to go back. Probably not a good thing.

I can't tell if Balian is sick, teething, or is having bad allergy problems. His nose drips all day, no matter how much I suck it out. I'm not taking him to the doctor because they won't do anything for him but suck his nose out and tell me to give him saline (can you tell I've been to the doctor with him over a cold more than once?). Unless it starts creeping into his chest, I'm just going to have to wait it out. Which is killing me. Because he is incredibly grouchy...


I've figured out why I like Dragon Age so much. It's like a cross between two of my favorite games: KOTOR and Oblivion. It plays like KOTOR, but has a storyline similar to Oblivion. It's a fun game and I'm completely hooked. I only play after Balian goes to bed, but I'm up until 1 playing. I can't wait to finish the storyline!

Yes. I am a complete dork.

Left in the Dust

I have no degree.

Nor any chance of having one for the next year and a half or so.

And I've been in college since January of 2006.

My husband is working on his Master's degree. I have three friends that just graduated Law School. I have six or seven friends who just graduated with a B.A. in English, two of whom did it in three years. I also have multiple other friends who have graduated, either from Liberty or Emmanuel, plus I have two or three friends who are leaving for Law School.

Yeah. I'm feeling incredibly...

Lazy?
Unintelligent?
Left behind?

Pretty much all three. College has not been kind to me, and I have not been kind to it. I treated it the same way that I treated high school: as a joke. As something that, even if I don't study, I'll still pass. Yeah, well, after two semesters, I realized that, ha, the joke's on me. So after nearly failing out of Emmanuel, I went to Liberty. Then I have a kid. Then after coming this close to getting my degree, I switch majors. Again. For one thing, I never should have added a minor. For another, I never should have given up on classes so easily.

For another, I should have just done the work.

So now, I'm sitting on the bleachers, cheering on my friends while hiding my insane jealousy at the fact that they get to move on with their lives.

And I still don't.

My How I've Changed

Changes in our lives happen so quietly, so quickly, that we rarely ever notice them. Sometimes it takes someone pointing out the change in order for us to see it. During insightful times, we notice them ourselves.

I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece, a cousin, a granddaughter, and a great granddaughter. I am a Creationist, pro-life, against homosexual marriage, and a Christian, although I'm still trying to discover what that last part actually means.

In the last ten years I have changed almost completely. Personality wise, I've grown to be less outgoing than I once was. I'm not as much of a flirt and I'm beginning to understand the way I interact wtih others and how that effects my relationships with them.

Beliefs wise, I've done a complete 180. In high school, I termed myself a Pagan. I studied Wicca, was pro-gay marriage and pro-choice. When I was 18, I became a Christian. God's call was just too strong in my life for me to ignore Him anymore. Even as a Christian, though, I was still pro-gay marriage and pro-choice. Even as a Christian, I was the biggest flirt ever and quite a bit of a whore. I was living my Pagan lifestyle, but calling myself a Christian.

Three years ago, I married a Christian Ministries graduate, John Hershman. He's my sanity in this world. He saw the person I could be, saw the person I was, and loved me (and still loves me). His love for me parallels God's love for this world. No matter what I've done to him (and I've done a lot), John will always love me, forgive me, and take me back. It's the same with God. No matter how much you deny Him, no matter how much you hate Him, He will always be ready and waiting to fold you  back into His arms.

But back to three years ago. Before John and I were married, I went to a gyno, who told me that, because of hormone imbalance issues, I would have trouble getting pregnant and having a child. Well, naive and just flat out uneducated as I was, I failed to get a second opinion and just took his word for it. Regardless, having a doctor say that to me right before I was married  hurt. A lot. That semester, in GNED, we were talking about abortion and it just hit me. For what reason am I pro-choice? Because I have no right over another person's body. The lamest excuse. Ever. I became upset. I realized that every abortion taking place was one less child that could be adopted by a family who can't have kids. This hit me incredibly hard, for obvious reasons. I began to see each child as my own, and I felt each of their pain. I felt it especially when I heard my son's hearbeat for the first time. How can anyone who has seen the little heart beating so fast, heard its myriad of thumps, not believe that it is a human being, deserving of every right to live?

And now I'm off of that soapbox.

I've made a lot of changes in my life. I'm a stay at home mom, and am actually happy that way. I think more women should try it, if they can. My dreams have changed, although I still want to write. I want to do research and photography.

I want to live. And I do believe I am.

So...

A lot has been happening lately, in life, in love, in friends, in family. I have moved to my own place, we took a trip to D.C., my first Mother's Day, school...

   So earlier this month I made the move to my own place. This has been the best decision I've made since John left for Basic. In the three years we've been married, we've never truly had a place to call our own. Our first place as a married couple was in another family's house. We watched their kids while they were away (they drove semi's for a living). After that, we moved into my in-law's house. This was a slight improvement, but still sucked. We lived in John's old room down in the basement and his little brotherstayed upstairs. John's parent didn't live there, thankfully. There was a lot of strife in that situation and I was pretty miserable for the duration of it. Last year, we moved into my dad's old house, the house I was, for the most part, raised in. While we were by ourselves and were left alone to do whatever, it really didn't feel like mine. Memories of mom and dad, while they were still mom and dad, haunted me throughout the house. Visions of the way things used to be met me around every corner. Was it any wonder I wanted out? In January, I moved in with two other girls to help them get out of a living situation they had found harmful. It was advantageous for the first few months, but after that I knew I didn't belong there. A married woman with a child should not live with two unmarried girls. It's strange to finally have my own place after all of this time. I can hang my pictures where I want. If I don't feel like doing dishes, I don't have to. I don't have to pick Balian's toys off of the floor if I don't want to. I am in control, and I'm not having to worry about two other people living with me. I can't even begin to describe how much stress is gone and how much relief I have just with this simple move. Now, if only I can get my force powers strong enough to move the rest of my stuff from there to here...

  This past Friday, I drove an amazing friend of mine to Washington D.C. A three hour car ride, and seven or eight hours spent wandering around the Mall, the Art Gallery, trying to find a CVS, and then trying to find food. It was FANTASTIC and EXACTLY what I needed. I've not been on a trip like that with a friend in a very long time. Being married has a tendency to segregate you. You lose what few friends you had to begin with, and, at least in my case, you find it very hard to make new ones. I've become socially awkward. Sad, but true. D.C. held the same charms it had the first time John and I went. After dropping Cassandra off at the airport, I went to Arlington National Cemetery. It's humbling being there, realizing, as you look past the thousands of graves, what our soldiers have given up to protect us, to protect their home. It's also saddening to see the Tomb of the Unkown Soldier and know that, while we are grateful for his service, we'll never be able to tell his family of his sacrifice.

   My first Mother's Day was, well, just another day almost. I wrote an incredibly sad poem, cried while I rocked Balian to sleep, more out of the fact that he's turning one next month than anything else, went to Nana's to visit with family and, as with everything else, took lots and lots of pictures. School starts back in August. I'm taking 12 credit hours, four classes: Religious Issues in Dramatic Literature, Literary Criticism, Religion and Politics, and a seminar over Charles Dickens. It'll be an interesting semester, although a hard one.

One More Year

At One second, you stole my breath.
At One minute, you stole my heart.
At One hour, I knew I'd do it all over again.
At One day, I knew I'd do anything for you.
At One week, I was happy to be home with you.
At One month, I was happy to be your mom.

When you started formula,
I wanted you back on my breast.

When you started sitting up,
I wanted you lying on me again.

When you started crawling,
I wanted you swaddled.

When you started talking,
I wanted your coos.

When you started walking,
I wanted you little again.


So much happens
In the course of a year.
People come, people go
And our hearts are forever changed.

The life of a child
brought into my life
Has left its tiny handprints
on my heart.

And now that this year
Is almost up
My only desire
Is one more year.

One more year
To cradle you in my arms.

One more year
To have you on my hip.

One more year
To watch you sweetly sleep.

One more year
Before you no longer need me.


These tears I cry
Mixed joy and sorrow
For the hours I've cherished
And the seconds I've squandered.

You are my child,
My baby boy,
Now
And for one more year.

Why I Mourn the Death of Osama Bin Laden

In case you’ve been living underground in a cave for the past ten years and haven’t been able to catch up on current events lately, Osama Bin Laden is the man accused of plotting the September 11^th attacks in 2001, among other atrocities. He is, and now forever will be, a terrorist, an extremist Muslim, an enemy of the United States (a club that is growing ever larger by the day). On May 1, 2011, he was reportedly shot and killed by a group of soldiers in a house in Pakistan. Almost the entire North American continent was in celebration that night.

I like to call myself a peaceable person. I enjoy peace and quiet, I enjoy not having a war going on, I enjoy lack of fighting. I’m not violent (although I can be) and I try to be compassionate towards others as much as possible. I’m also entirely way too forgiving.

I was one of the few that did not take a part in celebrations on the night of Bin Laden’s death. I find nothing to celebrate in the death of a man who is going to Hell for his sins with no hope of redemption. Instead, I find it saddening, sorrowful. Please understand, I truly do believe that the American people, especially those whose families have suffered since 9/11, but justice does not mean ending in death.

I feel like, after ten years, most people have forgotten the name Osama Bin Laden. There have been other fish to fry, other necessities of home life that have had to be taken care of.

It was my Freshmen year of high school. We had only been in school for a month. I was in my physical science class. My teacher was Mrs. Adams. Her husband, Mr. Adams, also taught science at our school. They were a pretty cool pair. Needless to say, Halloween was always exciting in their class. J I don’t remember exactly what we were doing in class that day, but I remember our principal coming over the loud speakers, telling all of the teachers to turn on the TV’s to the local news, that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Me, being 14 and more socially oriented than education oriented, had no idea what the World Trade Center was, nor honestly did I care. It was tragic, and I remember being sad that all of those lives were needlessly lost, but it didn’t disrupt my life as it had the families of those trapped in the buildings.

Ten years later, I still feel sorrow for the lives that were lost, but more aggravation that the United States, a nation that has always called itself a “Christian Nation”, one that always prided itself on its’ morals and values, has held onto a grudge against one man. It’s been called the “War on Terror” but I feel like the title “The War That Has Made Us Look Like War Mongering Idiots” would be more correct. More lives have been lost due to this ten year (and counting… you don’t really expect it to end now that Bin Laden is dead, do you?) war than was in the tragic event that started it.

No, I do not believe that Bin Laden should have escaped with what he had done, but is killing hundreds, if not thousands of innocent people really the answer? Are we really a nation that is so bent on hate and revenge that we steamroller all who happen to be in our path?

This war should have ended ten years ago instead of being drug on the way that it has. There are more important issues we should have been facing, the recession for example, instead of being hell bent to spend as many lives as possible in an attempt at getting back at one man, one man who, in the past few years, has fallen out of power and has been replaced.

So what have we gained from this killing? A morale boost? A feeling of satisfaction? Can you honestly say that you’ll sleep better tonight, knowing that you’ve not lost any sleep over this man for nine years? He should have been brought to justice, not brutally murdered; yet the man who shot him will be hailed as a hero instead of a villain.

I fear that, today, I’ve lost respect for our nation. And I believe that we should fear retaliation. This war is not over because one pawn is dead. This war will not be over because every terrorists dies. It’s a war that rages in the heart and in the soul, and will never end.

Instead of cursing his name, you should have been praying for him, and for his family. For his country. For your family and for your country. If we were truly a Christian nation, if you were truly a Christian, a follower of Jesus, you would have forgiven him and prayed.

And I am just as guilty as the rest.