clothedinjoy's Xanga

Saradactyl.com

Tue, 24 Jul 2007 15:55:54 GMT

Now has a new location!!!! Yes. I'm SO sorry Xangites, but I'm moving on to better pastures. I just love love love Typepad, and I've been paying for the account in an attempt to salvage my archives and photos that were uploaded there. SO - instead of renewing my Xanga account, I'll be blogging over at Typepad.

That blog can be reached at http://www.saradactyl.com OR http://clothedinjoy.typepad.com

If you use Bloglines or Google Reader, you can sub to my rss feed here: http://clothedinjoy.typepad.com/clothedinjoy/rss.xml

Yeah. So I reckon that's all for now.
See you all on the flip side.

Holla.

Wordless Wednesday

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 13:04:49 GMT

Missing you.

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 01:04:34 GMT

Save me a smile and an angel’s feather
Save me a walk down the streets of gold
And baby, we’ll change our minds just like old times
And maybe we’ll just fly away
Or maybe we’ll stay
My lucky doll, you’re in Heaven before me
You were my taste of Heaven here
Remember we loved to talk about it, we couldn’t wait to get there
So you go on and find your way around now.....
but remember I’m here missing you.
Do me a favor and say hey to Jesus,
and tell Him I’m missing Him too.

T e l l H i m I ’ m m i s s i n g H i m, t o o.

[lyrics by Chris Rice / photo by me]

Friday Felicities

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 14:43:27 GMT

Soft popcorn ice
Morning rain
Mourning rain
Papaya enzymes
a cell phone that ACTUALLY works
General Tso chicken from the Oriental Cafe
Lowes-to-Go [link]
Freedom
FIREWORKS! [link]

Those who THINK they know everything, annoy those of us who do.

Tue, 03 Jul 2007 17:53:58 GMT

It's Tuesday.
I saw the new Transformers movie last night.
Oooooomigoodness.
SO SO SO SO SO SO
SO
Good.
GOOD!
I'm not even that "IN" to Transformers.
Heck, I have a hard time remembering whether Optimus Prime is a good guy or a bad guy.
And yet?
I thoroughly enjoyed the movie.
Very well written.
Very well done.
Very funny.
Very dramatic.
Very... not for kids.
I wore my Starscream t-shirt.
(from Hot Topic)
It was perfect to wear for the movie.
And it's perfect to wear for the 4th of July!
It's blue and red, with stars.
Very patriotic.
Tomorrow will be one of the first Independence Days that I've spent without my family.
Everyone will be further south, and I have to work on Thursday.
So, I have to stay closer to home.
My plans are to spend the holiday w/friends.
Beth is having a cookout at her house.
And I'll demand to go see the fireworks.
hehe.
I'm tired.
I'm ready to go home.
This job is killing me.
(whispers: killing me)
My calendar this year has provided unending amusement for me.
The theme?
"Nuns Having Fun"
For July - it's a black and white photo of two nuns riding around on push scooters.
The caption?
"Traveling in religious circles."
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Amusing.

Suffering is a subcateogry.

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 19:48:55 GMT

I read an interesting interview with songwriter, Matt Redman. He was talking about the circumstances that prompted the writing of "Blessed Be Your Name". There are many who relate the book of Job to hardship... toil... grief... suffering, but from Matt's perspective:

"I think it's really about something much grander—the sovereignty of God—of which suffering is a subcategory."

In the narrowly constructed hallows of my psyche - Suffering is the name of my book-not a subcategory-having come face to face with a grief too heavy to bear. When you're waist-deep in mire, inching along toward perceived normalcy, it requires all the strength you can muster. Do we really believe God to be who He says He is? Do I really believe God to be who He says He is? Matt Redman says, "Trust is a beautiful act of worship." That it is. Nattie believed that, too - and it's just one of the reasons, I imagine, this song was her anthem.

"Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, 'Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.' In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrong." Job 1:20-22

Our lives here on earth are just.... breaths in the wind. It's a very flawed glimpse of a holy eternity, and we get so caught up in the subcategories that we often forget our books are being penned by a Sovereign Hand.

Blessed be your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where the streams of abundance flow
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name
Every blessing you pour out,
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your glorious name
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say:
"Lord, Blessed be your name."

Welcome to Bizarro World!

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 17:51:16 GMT

Yesterday, I wore my dress as a shirt.
Yesterday, I wore my necklace as a bracelet.
Yesterday, I ate a sub for lunch and had coffee for breakfast.
Yesterday, I did my hair before I got dressed.

I woke up, and tripped head long into Bizarro World. For its regular inhabitants, the bizarre is normal; the normal - bizarre. It's normal to eat hot ice cream, and take a bath in dirt. Even their speech patterns are different. To an outsider, it sounds a lot like they're saying - "Sucks to be here, it does!" Which translated roughly into English means , "This is a wonderful place to live!". In Bizarro World, everything opposite; backwards. Wrong is right, good is bad, happy is sad. It's the world as the world shouldn't, not, not be.... but it is.

Grief is a lot like that. Everything that SHOULD be right with the world - isn't. It isn't normal for women to die young and leave their babies behind. It isn't normal to lose a best friend, or for your parents' marriage to fall apart. It isn't normal that a widow should be left alone with no one to care for. Death. To the outside world, NOTHING about this seems normal or right.

I could spend an endless hour in a graveyard. Slabs of marble and granite marking the spot in which a family has chosen to bury their dead. Complex existences condensed into chiseled dates and one sentence declarations. Vibrant greens and floras thriving in spite of smelly decomposition processes happening not six feet below the surface. It's a cornucopia of ironies and contradictions - which unabashedly draw souls that are naturally inclined toward death.

Graves simplify the mystic intrigue of death. It compacts nicely into our neat wooden packages of basic human understanding. However, our understanding is wrapped up in experience, which is why it is so hard to allow our brains to wrap itself around what our hearts already know: death is necessary to life. Nothing REALLY lives except for that it first dies. It sounds poetic. It sounds right.

But no matter how right it sounds.......... it isn't. Like my friend Dana said, "It sucks to have a hole in your life. I wish we could fix it, but some things don't fix."

Welcome to Bizarro World; welcome to grief.

".....for I know Whom I have believed, and I am convinced that He is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me." (2 Tim. 1:12b)

Remembering

Sat, 16 Jun 2007 13:45:06 GMT

Roland Robert DeMers, Sr.

Wed, 13 Jun 2007 17:49:39 GMT

Better known to me as Paw-paw, went Home on Monday night. I'm so relieved that he's no longer suffering, but no matter how much you're convinced that "it" will happen, you're never prepared when "it" actually does. I will miss him so. He died on the anniversary of his marriage to his best friend: their 62nd wedding anniversary, to be exact. He was loved, and he loved his family and his Jesus. Paw-paw lived an amazing life, and I will be a blessed woman to be married to a man who loves me even half as much as Roland loved his Edith.

I love you, Paw-paw.
Save me a seat at the table.

Carnations are crap.

Wed, 13 Jun 2007 17:24:36 GMT

There is such a strong bond between all 12 of us "Administrators" of the Women at Home Ministry. We were best friends long before the message board came to fruition. How does that happen? Well - we're not talking a couple of emails a day. We're talking thousands of emails in a month. These women know me as well (if not better) than people who have known me my whole life. When Nattie died...... a part of me died, too. I can't really express how difficult this road has been... to lose someone so dear to me. That is supposed to happen to other people. It doesn't happen to me. I'm just not well versed in how this whole grief thing is supposed to work.

The admins. decided that we (of COURSE) would send flowers for Nattie's memorial. We made the decision to buy this big ole fancy, colorful, HUGE, beautiful monstrosity of a thing - and send it in her honor. Then the call came from the florist that they ran out of the flowers that were pictured on their website, but they would do their best to substitute with an equal quality of flora.

There were some who were at the memorial, and posted pictures of the flower arrangement from the admins. Holy crap, I could not have been more disappointed. I hated being so petty about stupid flowers (it doesn't matter, they're dead anyway, and Nattie is probably [in Jojo's words] setting up the internet in Heaven, and laughing over me balking over the carnations) In MY opinion, it was ugly and tacky and not at ALL what I thought would represent our love for her and our sorrow over her passing. Daisies were her favorite flower. And they put in these weedy looking things. Coupled with RED roses. And NEON PINK carnations. CARNATIONS, people. The cheapest and tackiest flower on the planet. I HATE carnations. Cheri and I have a mutual hatred of this so-called-flower, so yesterday we all discussed, and snarked over the arrangement and the loathsome carnations and packing peanuts. (Yes, packing peanuts)

Now - Joanne (who was actually at the memorial) said that the pink carnations were not NEARLY as prominent in the arrangement as the photos portrayed. Which is probably true.... I can totally see how those would be particularly LUMINOUS from the flash of the camera. So, that made me feel a little better. Then - to top it off, Cheri emailed us this little tid bit about the pink carnation:

"Pink carnations have the most symbolic and historical significance. According to legend, carnations first appeared on Earth as Jesus carried the cross. Mary shed tears at Jesus's plight, and carnations sprang up from where her tears fell. (Sara's note: blah, blah, blah - so not true, but whatever... it's this next part that really got me:) Thus the pink carnation became the symbol of a mother's undying love."

The florist screwed up.... but God has a strong track record of using screw ups for His glory. His ways are NOT our ways - even when it comes to something as stupid and pointless and petty as a floral arrangement: Natalie loved her babies, and they will carry that love with them forever. The carnations were there, in all their tacky glory, representing her undying love for her children - even in death.

My life is riddled with carnations. Useless, cheap filler. You know - stuff that just gets me by, and fills in the space until I get to where I'm going. But....... God is in the filler. He's taking my crap and working it for His glory, and by His sovereign grace there is poignant significance in the stuff that just seems pointless, meaningless, or difficult to swallow:

Taking the 17,236th "you've got the wrong number" call of the day.
Helping a woman go through all of her bills, so that she'll know what she really owes to the hospital.
Crying with my Mama.
Putting my fork in the dishwasher.
Throwing things.
(particularly *wee tiny packing peanuts* ala Dana)
Paying my bills on time.
Getting poop on my shoe.
Feeling so sad, I think I might die.
(um, not because of the poop)
Shunning Kleenex for the absorbency of a full-sized towel.
Choosing a banana over a candy bar.
My damn pen refusing to work.
Sketching haphazardly through a haze of tears and snot.
Finding long-lost pictures of Nattie.
Uglyass carnations being put in a floral arrangement.

"....a mother's undying love."
That sounds about right.