white space

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It seems writing has taken a backseat these days.  People talk about white space and margins, and by the time I’ve done the things I need to do, combined with some extra things I’d like to do, it hasn’t left me much margin for writing.

I got discouraged a while back, and after that point, I “set the pen down”.  Too many revisions, too many rejections, not enough reward for the hours caused me to take a step back and say, “You know, I think I’m going to be done for a while.”

So I ripped up our living room carpet, in anticipation of getting some dark, wood-looking, laminate floors.  We’d gone to visit my sister-in-law, and while we were there, I became a fan of her Norwex dry-mop.  All I needed was laminate flooring.  For months I’ve been bringing home the samples of flooring from Menards.  Long story short, we decided we didn’t have the money right now, but that was after I’d already thrown out the carpet.

My husband was like, “I don’t know, what if we just leave it like this?”  I looked at the floor and kinda liked the idea.  Even Ma Ingalls never had it this good.  As different as we are on some things, neither one of us were raised as fancy-type people, and I don’t even know what I mean when I say that, except to say that we’re the type of people who would both, for the most part, be fine with just leaving our living room floor as plywood.

The reward is there at least.

 

the senate vote

The Senate voted to confirm Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court.  At any other point in my life I would have seen this as a victory.  The conservatives now rule the court 5-4.  Maybe now, after all of these terrible, awful years, maybe now our country will stop killing babies.

I feel like whatever we gained wasn’t worth it.

If you’re innocent, you’re innocent.  If you’re guilty, you’re guilty.

The only scenario where I can see this as victory is if he was innocent.  He didn’t do it.  Ford was wrong in accusing him of sexual assault.  She either lied or misidentified.  But why, then, still, does this winning scenario still not feel like a proper relief?

If he was guilty, if he did it, and Ford was telling the truth in her statements, but there was no evidence to support her claims of assault, then that doesn’t make him innocent to me.  If he is guilty of sexual assault, and got away with it–the Law failed someone.

But we have our majority now

So it’s okay?

I don’t know why I was more naturally inclined to believe Ford, even though with suspicion, that Kavanaugh had sexually assaulted her in their teens.  Maybe it’s because I’m actually a woman, and past the point of wanting to impress the conservative men with my pro-men conservative political opinions. The idea of a man harming a woman seems to me worse than the other way around, like an unspoken natural law has been broken.

Do I think that the sins of our youth ought to haunt us for life and hold the power to destroy our lives even decades later? No, I don’t.  But is that because I love Kavanaugh, or because I love myself?  I hope it’s because I know God still loves and has mercy on me.

I believe in forgiveness.  If he did it, and got away with it, that doesn’t change the fact that Kavanaugh is forgiven.  If Christine Blasey Ford lied, breaking the commandments by bearing false witness against her neighbor, then I believe that she, too, is forgiven.

If it is true, like I have heard some say, that something definitely happened to her, it just wasn’t Kavanaugh who did that “something” , then still her attacker is out there, somewhere.  There is forgiveness for him, and God still loves and sees Christine Ford.

I don’t know what to do with all of this cultural sexual turmoil.  Recently, when talking to a psychologist, he said, “Listen.  Men tend to begin naive and they tend to end naive.”  I asked later on then, how women tend to begin and to end.  In fitting conversational context, he said, “Women tend to begin emotional, and they tend to end emotional.”

May the women find peace and the men find knowledge.

May the world find rest in a Love that overcomes.

May the unchanged heart inside us never be our fate.

brett kavanaugh

When I was little I remember a question that often came up among sibling play.  If you could have any superpower in the world, what would it be?  It was always a tough decision for me between being able to fly, or, to be able to make yourself invisible.

I think about that sometimes when I think about mom life.  There have been times when being invisible feels painful, like a part of you is actually missing, like the meaning of your life is absent if there isn’t actually another person there to testify, to witness.

Yesterday I watched the testimonies of Brett Kavanaugh and Christine Blasey Ford.  I’ve only recently heard of Brett Kavanaugh.   I’d heard snippets of the senate confirmation hearings a few times on NPR while listening to the radio in the car with my husband.  If I hear about something enough times, I’ll ask him, “Ok, so what exactly is going here?”

Politics is kind of like one big soap opera.  I used to watch Days of our Lives with my mom.  I actually got hooked on the show for a while, and actually cared about what happened in John, Kristen, and Marlena’s lives.  There was something super annoying about soap operas though.  You watched for an entire hour, and the story barely moved.

I wish I had the power to be able to tell when somebody is lying.  Something felt off about the first testimony, the way she used those big words to describe brain function and memories.  The second testimony had me briefly choked up as I listened in the beginning, then tapered off into silent moments of disappointment–unbecoming of a man.

I can’t see any reason for Ford, personally, to lie.  But I also can’t see everything.   I don’t understand why Kavanaugh had to get so attitudish with all the drinking questions–why not just be honest about it?  But I don’t understand everything.  So maybe she’s a little weird.  So maybe he’s not Mr. Strong, Calm, and Composed Under Pressure all the time.

I want to hear what Mark Judge has to say.  When I looked him up online, it said he was an American author.  When I looked him up on Amazon, his memoir, Wasted: Tales of a GenX Drunk, was out of print.  So I went and read the first chapter excerpt of A Tremor of Bliss: Sex, Catholicism, and Rock ‘n’ Roll–Wow.  I’m looking forward to reading more.

I’m not convinced he’s innocent, but yes, I can see the point about having no evidence. There have been a few articles about how mothers of sons need to take a stand against a political environment that allows what many have seen as a vicious, public defaming of an innocent man.  I’ve never even heard of phrases like “due process” before any of this.

At least not that I can remember.

Maybe I’m just burying my head in the sand–I wouldn’t put it past me.

We’re just gonna stay right here a bit longer.

psalm 107

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Oh Lord, that I might have a song to sing…

My voice is lost
my heart is gone
my story read
and dead for life

Who have I in heaven but You?
And earth has nothing I desire besides You

You have redeemed my soul
from the pit of emptiness
You have redeemed my soul from death

Let the loving deeds of the Lord be retold
of a love foretold from the infinite dayspring

Find me, O God!  For my soul is tied up

and I linger in loneliness

Some wandered in desert wastelands,
    finding no way to a city where they could settle.
They were hungry and thirsty,
    and their lives ebbed away.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
    and he delivered them from their distress.
He led them by a straight way
    to a city where they could settle.

He brought them out of darkness, the utter darkness,
    and broke away their chains.

Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love
    and his wonderful deeds for mankind,
for he breaks down gates of bronze
    and cuts through bars of iron.

He fills the hungry with good things.

faith hill

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This morning on vacation, before heading to the beach, I found myself watching Faith Hill and Tim McGraw interviews. It was one of those things where I’d run into her in the search feed on Instagram, and after looking through a few photos, I was intrigued.

It blew my mind a little when I saw how many followers she had. Faith Hill has 1 M followers. One million. Just to offer a comparison, President Donald Trump has about 9 million. Adele has 32 M. Katy Perry has almost 72 M. Taylor Swift has over 100 million.

When I was in high school, Faith Hill was big. “This Kiss” was on the radio constantly. I was never a fan of that particular song, but “It’s Your Love” was the theme for my Freshman high school homecoming dance. Somewhere in there was “Just To Hear You Say that You Love Me.”

“I’d walk across this world just to be…”

That line, right when they hit the word “walk” was so beautiful. I’d play that particular song line over and over, frustrated by the unique and beautiful harmonies, ones that as an alto in the choir, I could never quite figure out because the notes and the harmonies seemed to go up, not down.

Faith Hill was beautiful. With the possible exception of Catherine Zeta Jones, Faith Hill was the closest to goddess-like beauty I’d ever seen in a real-life woman. Her smile along with her powerful singing voice cemented her in my mind as someone who truly was the most beautiful woman in all the world.

It’s weird to see people who were famous when you were younger. I watched an interview from the height of her fame, just a year or two younger than I am now. Had Instagram been around back then, she would have the 100 M followers.

Her children are in college now. She and her husband recently traveled the world in their soul2soul tour. They did daytime and prime time interviews again. The two were still married after 21 years. They had also both recently turned 50.

She looked different.

I wish I could tell these women it’s okay. You don’t have to stay the person you once were, and you don’t have to try so hard to get back here. I’m not saying Faith Hill is doing this, but at fifty years old, it’s okay to not look like you’re thirty anymore.

Faith Hill has an amazing voice. I wish I could sit down and interview her myself. Tell me what it was like to be famous. What was it like to travel the world, to raise your girls with the man you love for life? What would you tell your 34-year old self?

Why do I have a feeling it somehow keeps coming back to those same little words?

“Enjoy it.”