Who Are You? Who Am I?

My last blog was about why I would not want to be a Pastor's Wife and how, although I did not choose it, I am proud and happy to call myself an Army Wife. Today's is about how, try as you might, you will ultimately define yourself by who you surround yourself with.

I read through the comments on the other blog and the thing that stuck out the most to me was that I need to be true to myself, true to God, and to find my own individuality. However. If I am to be true to myself, I would have to say that I have NO idea WHATSOEVER who I am or who I'm supposed to be. I define myself  by my situation in life and I adapt to wherever I am at the time. Therefore, who I am, changes with time and situations.

For example, although I do not believe I'd make an exemplary Pastor's Wife, if forced with the situation, I'm sure I'd do fine. I adapt. Right now, I am an Army Wife. Regardless of what I do, that defines who I am for the moment since every decision I make, whether it be for myself or my family, revolves around the Army. That is just how it's going to be until John retires.

When John and I married, my life became about him. When I gave birth to our first son, my life expanded to include him. I consider my life fulfilled if I can be the best mom and wife I can be. This doesn't mean I have dreams of my own. This doesn't mean I don't have a personality all my own. Most anyone can tell you that. My greatest dream is to work for National Geographic as a photojournalist, but if I never complete this dream, I know I can live happily knowing that I've done what I could for my family.

My family defines me. My husband's career defines me. My child defines me. And this is true for everyone! No one can truly say that they are living life to their own full potential. No one can say that they are being entirely true to their selves. It's an impossibility.

There are so many things that define us. The people we surround ourselves with. The groups we identify with. Our pasts. Everything. The only thing I can say is that I have the same bubbly, outgoing, spastic personality that I've had since I was in Elementary School. But with more anger issues.

I am an Army Brat. I am an Army Wife. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a pre-eclampsia victim. I have high cholesterol. I am a reader. I am a writer. I am a photographer. I am a student. I am a Christian. This is all what makes me, me. 

I'd Rather Be An Army Wife

My most recent status on Facebook said that I'd rather be an Army wife than ever be a Pastor's wife. This statement, of course, sparked quite a few questions. So I thought I'd dedicate this blog to be an explanation of the reasons why I'd rather be an Army wife than any other kind.

Let me first say that I did not choose this life for myself. I was quite content having John at home, although I knew he was not happy doing what he was doing. He's my husband and my best friend. I enjoyed his company, I enjoyed being able to talk to him before falling asleep at night, and I definitely enjoyed the sex. When John told me that he was joining the Army, my first reaction was to scream out "NO!" It would mean him being gone for a year at a time, mission exercises that would take him away for a month or more, plus the drama that generally always accompanies being an Army wife. The moving from place to place really doesn't bother me. I love adventure and new places.

The more John talked about the Army, the more he fell in love with the thought of being a soldier. It really seemed like a dream come true for him. I knew that if I denied him this opportunity, if I told him not to join, then we both would regret it. I didn't want to be the one to crush his dreams, and I knew that if he didn't join, that's exactly what I would be doing. So I held my tongue, he swore in, and has now been gone for almost a year, and will not be returning until next year.

I feel like I'm suffering a fate worse than deployment. The bright spot? He has Skype. Thank God for Skype. For that reason, I know I'm a lot luckier than most wives.

Before joining the Army, he was still considering being a pastor. I knew then that I did not want to be a Pastor's wife.

As an Army wife, I face long deployments, fear of the men in suits bringing bad news, sometimes days or weeks at a time where I don't hear from my soldier and have to wonder where he's at. It's actually not that bad.

As a Pastor's wife, I would have faced church every Sunday. Ladies Bible Studies. Events and concerts I would have been expected to attend. And I would have been expected to care about everyone in the church. And I don't (I know... harsh, right?)

I am not a Pastor's wife. I can never fit that mold. I don't like church. I don't like being chained to a church. Sometimes, I don't like God. And I definitely do not like pretending that everything is perfect in my life while having to care for other people's concerns.

As an Army wife, I have a freedom that allows me to be myself. I can cuss, drink, and blurt out my opinions about anything and everything. I'm uncensored (which is how I like it). That freedom doesn't exist for a Pastor's wife, where everything she does is scrutinized by the entire body of the church.

And I can also say that I love my husband more for the fact that he's doing something for his country, for his family, doing something he loves, something that will always challenge him and push him, than if he were in a job that I knew that he would be burnt out on.

Nothing against pastor wives. But that's just not for me.

Proof of a Creator

Did you know that every color that has ever been thought of, ever manufactured, can be made with four colors: the three primary colors (red, yellow, blue) and white. Pink is simply red and white. Green is blue and yellow. Orange is red and yellow. To get brown you mix orange and red. Blue, green, and brown mixes into black. White and black make gray. Every color of the rainbow is a variation of these four colors. Every variation of gamma rays is a variation of these colors.

The normal strand of human DNA carries the genes for over a billion different combination for hair color, skin color, eye color, height, weight, temperament, ear shape, even eyelash length. Just as the four colors combine into limitless numbers of color, so, too, can the DNA erupt into a billion different possibilities for a human life.

Four different colors. One tiny strand of information. How can information such as this just evolve out of nothing?

I believe in a Creator. I believe in One Supreme Being who shaped our earth into what it is. I believe that He created our world in 6 days and rested on the 7th. This is a basic belief for me. And it's not hard to believe it when I look around.

This Earth is far too grand to have been shaped by anything other than the Maker. There are hidden gems and fascinating discoveries that point to creation by design. The way that the Earth is in the perfect spot to support life, the different layers of the atmosphere that ensure that we aren't burned by the sun. The uniqueness of every fingerprint. For me, it all points to a God who created me, who loves me so much He's given me an entire world to explore.

The next time you see a sunset, a flower, a new animal, think of how it was made. The thought that went into it. Think of its' DNA and the billions of possibilities that it has. Then remember how easy it is to forget that there is something grander than ourselves, that our lives end far too quickly, but that there is something waiting after that means so much more than we can possibly imagine.

My Flaws Are Not My Own

Every human being on this planet, every person that has ever been created or has yet to be conceived has flaws. Only one person has ever been perfect, and He died on the cross, crucified by those He was trying to save. Flaws are what makes us human. It's what separates us from any other living, breathing animal on the planet.

My one main problem with our flawed condition is that people are very quick to point out each other's flaws. As a general rule, you always find the flaws in others that are most represented in yourself, something that you've struggled with and overcome or something that is still yet to be discovered.

I'm having a hard time in my living situation at the moment, and I'm trying my very hardest to remember that I'm a  flawed individual and that, try as I might, I can not see everything exactly the way that the other person sees it because our flaws color our vision.

My flaws include being overemotional, anger issues, stereotyping, cowardice, and taking things way too personally. I have many, many other flaws, but these are the ones that are popping into my head at the moment. These are pretty common flaws. I could say I share these with at least 75% of the world population.

I already have a blog written on being overemotional. I tend to be either very very very happy or very very very sad, or very very very angry. There's not a whole lot of middle ground for me. I do have my blah moods, but even those tend to sway towards extremism. I have horrible anger issues that I've been trying my hardest to control and conquer. I have an incredibly bad habit of stereotyping based off of what a person looks like, what they wear, or how they speak. Five minutes into a conversation, I've already put you into a category. Yet I don't let that stop me from being a friend. I am an immense coward, or was at least. I am overcoming this everyday. I let people walk over me because I'm afraid of being a burden, or of telling them what they're doing is wrong. Or because I desperately want to be their friend.

This brings me to the last flaw I listed. I take things VERY personally. It doesn't matter what it is. You can cut in front of me in a shopping line, and I will spend the next five minutes wondering why you did that to me, of all people, and whether or not it has anything to do with the persona I give off or because I look easy or what.  This is my worst habit, and I'm trying to overcome it, but it's a daily struggle.

I am a flawed individual. You, the reader, are a flawed individual. The President of the US and the Queen of England are both flawed individuals. We are a flawed country and a flawed world. We stress the flaws in others, but maybe we should start seeing the good in everyone else instead of the bad. Why can't we all live more optimistically instead of being doom and gloom?

And why can't we open our mouths and talk about why we're bothered about the flaws instead of using the flaws themselves as an excuse to be bothered? 

Kayleigh Day 2011

Today is Kayleigh Day! Kayleigh Arnold is the daughter of my best friend Jonathanmilliondollarsmile Arnold and Amysmileneverfades Blades-Arnold. One year ago today, she went to sleep and never woke up. Research is still undergoing as to what causes SIDS. If you're feeling gracious, please make a donation to the SIDS organization to help further their research and make sure no more families have to go through a loss like this. Please keep their family in prayers, wear pink to raise awareness, and then hold your loved ones close and be grateful for the time you have with them, however short.

I love you both so much! You're constantly in my prayers!

Link for donations:

https://www.sids.org/online/index.html

The Girls are Going Away

I am overweight and it drives me insane. I feel very unattractive. One of the things that bothers me the most about the way that I look and how I perceive myself is my incredibly large chest. No matter what I wear, I pour out of it because my chest is so large. It's always been huge, but it's jumped a cup or so since I was pregnant with Balian.

Well, I'm sad to say that the girls are going to disappear for a while. I'm trying my hardest to dress modestly because I know that it bothers people when I'm hanging out of my shirts, and frankly, it bothers me, too. It's back to t-shirts for me and higher tank tops than I have been wearing.

I'm a mom. I'm a wife. I don't need extra distractions by others staring, telling me to cover up, or hitting on me. Yes I have it, but that doesn't mean I have to flaunt it.

I'm still trying to lose weight, so maybe afterwards I'll feel more comfortable wearing the smaller clothes I've been putting myself into. Until then, though, I'm dressing for comfort.

God's Word is Greater

One thing that I've discovered over the past couple of weeks is that if God tells you to do something, you need to do it, but you can't lean on Him for everything. You have to put work into it yourself.

In the last blog, I said that I was going to take a break from school, but was eventually going to go back to finish my degree in English. Well, God has other ideas. I'm currently waiting to hear back about an acceptance into Liberty's Resident Undergrad program.

Two problems that have me freaked right now. Number one is my current GPA, which is 1.81. I turned in some paperwork to replace a failing grade with a "C" so hopefully that will bump it up to at least a 1.85. Being an online student has ruined my GPA because I'm notoriously lazy and a big procrastinator. Being Online enables that in so many different ways... Another problem is the workload for next semester. On top of taking two CLEP tests and two ICE's (Liberty's version of CLEP), I am going to be taking 16 hours of resident classes, all 400 level except for one course. I'm understandably freaked out about this. I'm lazy. 12 hours of this load is upper level English classes. The last 4 is a random astronomy class I have to take as an Integrative course. I'm freaked out big time.

My plan is to take the four tests, finish this semester off, independently learn a foreign language (preferably German), then CLEP that, and, if my GPA is high enough and I can win a battle against LU's CSER office, I graduate with a BA in English. After almost six years.

I'm trying very hard to trust God and to put my faith in Him. He's made it painfully clear that this is what He wants me to do; but I'm terrified of failing. God can't do my coursework for me. That's completely up to me, and I'm only human. I fail. A lot. I can lean on Him for support, for strength, for guidance, but I can't ask him to write four eight page essays for me. He won't do it.

Damn free will.

I need prayer. LOTS of it. If I manage to pull this off this semester, I only have Him to praise, not myself. Because I'd never be able to do this alone.