Women Wednesday: A Breakup Can Be Inevitable

I always feel as though long time spans from each Women Wednesday post.

Perhaps it is because they take so much out of me to write.

I've been writing and re-writing this one in my head on paper.

Almost a year now, back and forth, typing and backspacing,

scratching out on paper,

only to scratch it out completely.

Why?

It involves the theory of a sometimes inevitable in our female relationships...

A breakup sometimes happens.

Twice in the last two years I've experienced such a loss,

a monumental breakup with at least one female friend;

if not participating the dissolution of a group of female friends,

and each time I respond with the same question to myself:

"Why do you continue to engage if a break up is inevitable?"

While each scenario was different, the result was the same: A loss occurred.

And let's face it.

With making dinner, working, laundry, soccer practice and solving our children's (if they are school age) social snafus, who really wants to deal with their own girl drama?

Especially, when we are supposed to be grownups.

I'm probably the worst at dealing with it.

I cannot "pick" sides during a fight between my friends.

I refuse to perpetuate gossip.

And I cannot hold your hand, rub your back and lie when you're being a complete moron.

And I don't expect my friends to do the same for me.

That's why we're friends.

Call me to the carpet.

Lay out your garbage and I'll bring my truck full.

Let's do this life together, in it for the long haul kind of relationship.

I really know no other way.

I have time for garbage.

I have no time for crap.

I have a hard time biting my tongue and the Lord help you if you ask for my opinion.

Only one thing will happen,

I will give it to you.

Straight.

I'm sorry in advance.

This inherently explains some of my "girl" issues.

I truly believe that God has placed amazing, lasting women in my life to do life with me.

I believe that many of them are still to come and I must seek out their arrival.

Some of them will stay until we are old and gray.

I'm still holding out that Gayla & I's children marry.

But some paths will cross for a moment, a season even.

And ladies,

here's the deal:

THAT IS OKAY.

I guess we've watched too many girl movies and think that all breakups

are worth a box of tissues and require an Oscar winning performance like

a scene from "Steel Magnolias".

More often than not, every adult, girl "break up", you've experienced was

too much exaggeration,

not enough forgiveness

definitely lacking in communication

and you have no idea why that person is no longer in your life,

 there is just a scar they made when they left

 or resentment you conjure up when thinking of them.

Perhaps those "breakups" should be more like a really amazing Hallmark card.

Not all they hype and duration of a Hollywood production, but a

small span of time to remember what was and celebrate the moment.

You read it, you sigh and hold it close to your chest and

then you put it in a drawer and go on with your life.

Or you realize that the words were never right, tear that card up

and laugh you wasted so much time on her.

But here's what we can't do: Stop engaging one another.

Let's face it girls, God did not make us social vacuums.

We are made to connect, engage and grow.

Our men are just never going to understand all our "girlness".

Yes, breakups will happen.

They should happen in some circumstances.

But for those women who come and go too soon,

or who didn't leave soon enough,

hold their memory close.

For good or bad, her presence made part of your story.

And stories are good, only when they are retold.

So don't be afraid to tell your story to someone new.

Women Wednesday: Just Show Up

I was asked a few weeks ago by my church if I would speak at our annual Women's Conference this year. I fell over laughing when I read the email to The Hero. It wasn't the speaking, or the fact that I had to speak for 30 minutes. It was the audience.

Three years ago, a leaflet fell out of our Sunday bulletin advertising WCC's women's conference. I laughed and tossed it inside my Bible. A few days later, The Hero saw it and asked if I was going.

"Uh, I don't like girls. And this is for an entire day. An entire day surrounded by girls? No thanks. You know that's my personal version of hell."

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"K. But I thought you were praying about making some new girl friends."

It's moments like this when he renders me stupefied that I want to punch him.

"I highly doubt I'll make any new friends at a women's conference."

"Are you going to try on bike night at Hooter's?"

Insert punch to the arm.

I drug my feet for a few days and finally bought a ticket to go.

Surely, I would have something come up and would be unable to attend.

Something. Had. To. Come. Up.

It was Saturday and since we were still sans kids and The Hero was at work, I had no more excuses. I went. Late, but I went. Showing up is half the battle, right?

I sat in the back and while I didn't make any lasting friendships that day, showing up really was half the battle. It was also the beginning of laying a foundation for new relationships to form and new healing to appear.

So this week, when it seems like it's hard and you're not really wanting to engage: Just Show UP!

Women Wednesday: Word.

I made a New Years' resolution last year.

I don't even remember what now.

It doesn't really matter.

Because like most New Years' resolutions,

I broke it two days later.

I know that because I wrote it in my journal.

I do that a lot.

Break things, I mean.

Promises, hearts (haha, right), social commitments, dates with my treadmill.

And even though I am a notoriously bad New Years' resolution maker,

there were definitely things that I wanted to change in 2012.

I thought about making a list.

But giving it's past performance, I thought against it.

I thought I'd discuss it with The Hero.

But when he said he really wanted to lose the six pounds he'd put on over the holidays

by the end of the month,

I bit my clenched fist to keep from punching him.

I reread some of my blog posts, journal entries and simply sought the status of my heart in 2011.

In all that reading, there was a theme that blared out in my words and heart: hectic.

So as I prayed and pondered over whether the only thing I would carry over from

2011 was my growing jean size,

I asked that God would reveal to me just a word that I could carry with me through this year.

There were several instances that confirmed that my word would be a complete about face from last year's pace.

2012 for me will be if nothing else:

INTENTIONAL.

Everything I do.

Every word I speak.

Every word I write/type.

I want Him in the middle of each step, each family dinner, every load of laundry.

I want to be conscious of every dollar we spend, saving more and giving more.

With each of the relationships I have, I pray for them to be more full.

To stop throwing things together and start knitting them in unity.

I long to seek a solid breath of life, instead of the raspy pant of busyness.

We will say "no thank you" to extracurricular activities and

cuddle on the couch for a little bit extra togetherness.

I want to wear my faith, instead of checking the box marked "saved".

I don't want to make new friends until I have dove head first into the ones before me.

(So if we know each other in 'real' life, watch out.)

While being intentional may seem slower, I pray it will not burn less passionately.

Hopefully, it will only burn longer.

I want to be a better spouse, bringing honor to The Hero.

A woman who respects his authority in our family,

and desires to make his home a place where he is at rest.

(I've read those verses about a nagging wife,

and The Hero's back won't take him living on our roof)

A home where we practice hospitality, cry when the need arises, dance when the music is good,

laugh when it's funny and pour grace on every square inch of what we've been given.

Because that is what He has done for us.

And because there is never enough grace.

I want to be a woman from whom The Angel can seek for a good example,

and from whom The Dinosaur will learn the difference between a lady and all the rest.

I want to eat less and sweat more.

I want to speak softer and write louder.

I pray our family creates memories instead forcing togetherness.

And I will expect more from you.

More discussions, more participation in the tough stuff,

more screaming from our laptops for kids who need us,

and exploring these Wednesdays for what they were originally intended:

for us to be INTENTIONAL together as women.

Perhaps being intentional will mean less of some things, and that's ok.

I am most excited about the depth of what is left.

So let's get started: INTENTIONALLY!

Women Wednesday: The Great Debate

The Hero and I had a really hard talk two years ago when we brought home The Angel and The Dinosaur. I'm sure lots of other couples have had the same one.

"To stay at home with the kids or go back to work?"

There is a part of my femininity that may be missing, because this wasn't a difficult question for me to answer. I practically ran back to the office. I had been practicing law almost five years when the kids came home, and I was good at it. Law school wasn't cheap and I amassed more student loan debt than The Hero's mortgage on his first house. There was no way we could afford for me to stay home. Spending three weeks away from the office also revealed another horrible character flaw: I am a work-aholic. I love it.

This may be why making and keeping new girlfriends has always proved challenging for me. It's hard for me to admit that I like being at the office. That my brain lights up and ignites best when legal theories and paperwork abound. And also I think many women I meet would only judge this career choice as a character flaw. They might believe that because I work outside the home, that I am not a good mom. And let's face it, I don't need any help beating myself up about my faults.

I also have much guilt over this new personality development. I often lament my failures as a mother, sometimes on an hourly basis. Maybe we all do. Most days as I pull away from daycare, I groan that I couldn't give my kids a better mother. One who hadn't spent most of her twenties vying for grades and racking up debt. But in my spirit I know that staying at home with The Dinosaur would leave us both unfulfilled and unchallenged. He needs WAY more social interaction that one mama can give him. The boy is busy and the more kids around, the more he loves it.

And you know what?

That's ok.

It actually feels good to say that out loud (or in print).

I may never stay at home.

But that doesn't mean I don't adore my mama friends who stay at home. Most of the time I want to constantly immulate them.

And that doesn't mean they don't love me, even trekking it to the office every day. Even when I don't return their phone calls for a few days.

Some times ladies, I think the debate about whether or not we are good enough, or doing a good enough job in motherhood and life in general, doesn't happen between us women,

It happens within ourselves.

Here's to learning to embrace the creatures God created us to be, with the love that He shows us, no matter where He calls us to spend most of our days.

Women Wednesday: Makeup Removal

I am most upset with my kids when they lie to me. I don't think anything irks me like knowing that they have done something only to have them turn around and lie about it. Last night The Hero confronted me about an issue that I was not ready to address; so I did the thing I despise the most; I lied and told him I didn't know what he was talking about. Eight years together and The Hero knows me and he knows when to fight, but better than that, he knows how to win. I just had no desire to have my husband believe that I didn't have every area of my life together; even though he already knew better.

He let me go to bed feeling awful about lying to him. I was up at 6:30 this morning praying over my attitude and even The Hero was already at the station, I called and apologized.

Mommy: 0

The Hero: 2 (1 for avoiding the fight last night and 1 for out lasting me.)

I think we as women want every one around us to believe that we have it all together, that our families are a carbon copy of a Nordstrom catalog (we're more of the Old Navy variety, 'cause I can't keep The Dino without Cheeto stains) and we as women are all Maybelline models.

I wonder how much more fun The Hero and I would have had by lying in bed laughing, instead of ignoring the elephant in our bed and I wonder how much deeper my female relationships will be when we start discussing the hard stuff and removing the makeup.

Women Wednesday:

I use to think that having a great girl friend meant I had done something right,

That I had picked a good friend.

The older I get, nothing could be further from the truth.

My best girl friends in life have always chosen me.

I guess I assumed having a good friend meant I was a good friend.

It's not.

I am a horrible friend.

I forget to call.

I forget birthdays.

I change plans, often times at the last minute.

I need a girlfriend to call me out about these things.

And I've found several.

Knowing where I am lacking as a friend is not always a fun conversation.

But if I want to have a good friend, it's important to learn to be one.

And I am grateful that the good Lord has sent me just the girls for the job.

So why do we as women avoid making new friends?

I think we avoid new girl friends because:

1.) There's too much laundry to do,

2.) We haven't yet determined what keeps us from being a good friend

1.) What keeps you from being a good friend?

2.) How has a girlfriend now/in the past challenged you to be better?

Women Wednesday: Roots Part 1

Everyone has a story. It is a mixture of pain, beauty, hysterics and ridiculousness. Mine doesn't make me different from anyone else; just me. Perhaps by acknowledging that each of us have been hurt by another woman, we'll show more love to one another. Here are my roots, Part 1.

After my last Women Wednesday post, I was talking to a girlfriend who said "I thought that because you have always had good relationships with your mother and sister, you would be a terrible candidate for being afraid of women. Where did all this start?"
I laughed. Probably a huge reason why I have women issues because I was so close to my mom and sister. I always felt like I didn't need another female relationship. And I had starred in my own personal version of Mean Girls before Hayden Paniterrie arrived on the planet.

Being 75lbs and under 5ft tall at the start of junior high was laughable and boy, did my classmates laugh it up. While my body missed the memo about evolving, my father missed the memo about the color of men's collars in rural Oklahoma. While dad worked 8-5, my peers' fathers worked according to the sun; if it was in the sky, they were working. Although my parents struggled with money like everyone else in the late 1980s', the title of "spoiled rich girl" cemented my pre-teen biography.

I swore off all vanity; any modified change in my appearance only invited attention and attention was always more teasing. My hair was too straight and brown and my body resembled my nickname, "Twig". The gaggle of girls that tormented me hurt, but the silence from the boys in my class only confirmed that women run the world.

Home life was so good, I didn't want to disrupt it with my pubescent woes. Having three kids in five years left my parents busy, even if I had displayed angst about school; but I wasn't up for talking to mom and dad. While other mothers were making a home, mine was making a business. She made jewelry, ordered the best take-out ever, only turned on our oven for special occasions and looked young enough to be my big sister. Her bottle blond hair, 5'8" frame and Farrah Faucset good looks were the only positive comments I got from boys through most of my tween years. We laughed, worked and played as a team and life was a strange dichotomy of great and miserable. I hid my dive-bombing self esteem, bruises from being pushed into lockers and planted my emotions in an alternate universe, books.

I was called my first expletive in writing. Scrawled on a note and shoved in my locker, the word screamed at me. A few weeks later, one of the ringleaders held my face in the snow. I walked to my first class drenched in a mixture of tears, snow and sweat. I told my teacher I fell. She called my mother. I told mom I fell.

Gum was consistently found in my books, locker and even my hair. Name calling was after every class bell and I tried to shrink into oblivion. I was reading 6-8 books a week, both at school and home, anything to forget I was me. I was arriving at school as the last bell was ringing and hiding in the locker room during lunch. The more anti-social I became, the less banter I had to tolerate in between school bells.

I stopped talking all together second semester of my 6th grade year. I correctly answered the exact date the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor during history class and a combination spit ball and "dumb a***" followed. I tanked the test. By mid-semester, I was failing almost all of my classes. The principal called my parents.


I don't remember the incident, but it was so bad a big sister of a girl in my class broke it up outside school, brought me home and told my parents everything. They cried. I enrolled in a new school the next week. The wall against true sisterhood had structure. Four years later, I'd return to this same school and confront all these issues again.
Maybe I'll go there next week, but today my soul is raw from remembrance.

Show more sisterly love today.

Even if she doesn't deserve it.

She probably needs it the most.

Women Wednesday: Fear

Ephesians 4:1-2 "...I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love."

I'm already regretting writing these posts.

As I sit here praying over why,

I already know the answer.

Fear.

There.

I said it.

I'm scared.

Afraid of offending someone,

saying the wrong thing,

or simply not conveying what I want to say.

Give me a task, a job, a complex legal issue, advocating for a client;

add solid research, coffee and a forum for debate;

and I'm alive.

It's the lifeblood of who I am.

It's the cape I wrap around my shoulders in order to hide the insecurities;

the achievement badge that adorns my life's sash of meritorious attributes.

While I fail at almost everything else, being at my place,

in God's universe,

making succinct data of the chaos is salve to my heart.

And reminds me that at least, here,

I am not a total failure.

And for the rest of who I am, hope to be and was in the future,

it's covered in caution tape.

Because there is fear.

I think it is the best lie that the Devil ever spun.

He can apply it to so many things with us, ladies.

With his snarky laugh he reminds us

You won't be friends if she knows _____________ about you.

She'll never understand that you don't have it all together.

Don't be yourself, just follow everything that she does.

Blah. Blah.Blah.

Excuse.

Excuse.

Excuse.

And it keeps us from each other.

From growing and learning through one another.

And we know better.

I'm reading Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller.

There is a scene where Don moves into a house with 6 dudes to experience community.

I cringed while I read, because being locked in a house

with 6 other women might as well be torture for me.

No thanks, I'll take Water boarding for 200 Alex.

Why?

Fear.

Fear of being judged, unliked, not having it all together or knowing that the facade that you have sewn is just a cape your wrap around yourself to hide your insecurities.

I think the older we get, the more activities our children have

and the more "stuff" we pack in our days, we lose the ability to smile to the mom in the car pool line, ask our daycare worker how today REALLY was or seek out a woman we know could use an ear and a cup of coffee.

I think that while Don's experience in Blue Like Jazz is a great example of community,

I don't believe community is only experienced in our houses.

I think it's experienced in our hearts.

So why do I fear letting a girlfriend really know me?

My top three would have to be:

1.) Having someone know how guilty I feel certain days for being a working mom.

2.) Sharing that I struggle daily to follow Christ.

3.) Discovering how true community might shake me from my comfortable cape of selfishness.

So here's to putting aside the fear, and getting messy with one another.

I encourage you this week to put aside the fear of engaging in a new relationship this week and re-set that coffee date (Layla, name the time and place), stop just a little longer to talk and seek community with a fellow sister.

Women Wednesdays

I don't think God "talks" to me. I've known and heard about Him talking to other people, but not me. He pushes, urges me through His word, nudges me and then there are the slaps in the face. Those are usually the things that I'm reminded of again and again until it eats me to the core and I can't stop thinking about it.

For about the last year, I've been feeling pushed to approach my phobia of women and female relationships in general here on my blog. It grows stronger and stronger with each blog post I write and as I sit thinking about each next blog post, the topic looms over me. And I feel Him pushing me outside my comfort zone. Him asking me to put my issues and fears and insecurities aside and just trust Him. And Him alone.

So each Wednesday for awhile, I'll be posting my thoughts about misconceptions, stereotypes and issues that we women face together, separate, how the enemy uses those to his advantage and what the good Lord is teaching me about such things. I'm calling it Women Wednesdays. If you have topics that you want to discuss or approach in prayer, leave a comment or send me an email. I don't want this to be the complaining post, but a place where we learn more about community with one another and individually toward Jesus.

I hope that you'll join me. Maybe together we will grow a little deeper and learn a little something about one another, ourselves and all of the in between.

Remember to vote on the tab to the right. Our next adoption is a waiting child(ren) and we are giving a giveaway for the first weeks/months of our journey. We'll reveal a little more about our waiting child(ren) each week until we've told you as much as we can. This week we are voting on how many children we are bringing into our home. Leave a comment and then vote and we'll draw next week and the winner will receive a "Worth the Wait" shirt of our remaining inventory.