Then You Were.

I was an only child, and then Eames was born. That was the beginning of my lucid memories. I was no longer going to be alone. A counterpart was coming for me.

The night of May 12, 1985, when mom woke me up in my toddler sleep (it was kind of her to do this, so my next morning was less confusing), it was like I woke up from the daze that defined my first 2.7 years on Earth. I was no longer alone, which meant I had better start remembering things.

Most of my memories from Coronado are the result of photographs, but I do remember games and punishments. My favorite games were Volcano and the one when mom and dad tossed us in a sheet. Wild. Loved those games. And I loved Oreos and wandering out to see my friends - those were the things that got me in trouble. I don't think it was ever necessary for an authority figure to shame me. Any ounce of that scarred me, and distracted me from the simple parental disappointment that would unfailingly reroute my disobedient impulses. I think I should consider that when parenting and friending... shaming is completely counterproductive for some. Most? All?

But lucky for me, 9.9 out of 10 memories from Coronado were bliss. That being a happy child on an island kind of bliss. Until we moved. Then... it was that being a happy child on a farm kind of bliss. With two more rascally brothers to come.

Last year, I got a new partner in life. Not a brother this time, but a husband. Not that I was in a daze my first 32 years on Earth leading up to that event, (No, I was more alive than I can fathom when I really stop and think about it.), but I do feel fundamentally less alone than ever. The shift makes me insatiably curious to learn how my experience of the world will be different now than it was before. Different like life before having brothers seemed like nothing once they came along. Another chapter. Or is it a sequel? Or the first pages following a prologue? Or maybe... it's the screenplay based on a best seller? Time to stop while I'm ahead.

The point is, it is good to share life with someone. Whoever that is. And the other point, things change. In big ways. That is life.

An Ever So Costly Leftness Every Time, Thankyouverymuch

There is this mindset that I have never trusted. It freaks me out, in fact. I reject it pretty darn consistently whenever it waves its 50% off sign in front of me. I just don't buy it.

I don't buy rightness.

It makes me ever so nervous when people are so entirely convinced that they are ever so right and are unbearably plagued by all the people being so wrong. ("Stupid" often replacing "wrong.") It's not that I don't believe in black and white, and all I can see is grey. It's just that... I believe in black AND white. And I tend to think that everybody has got a point worth listening to as long as they've got a pulse (or a diary if they're dead).

Sure, I don't agree with every point I hear... but I enjoy trying to understand how it came about. In that person's mind. And then, if I can succeed, it might not sound quite so "stupid." At least the person won't, even if their point is. Maybe they don't understand logic. Maybe they have a mental health condition. Maybe they are inebriated.

Unfortunately, I did happen to buy rightness on a recent occasion. What can I say? It was 90% off. Everybody was doing it. Ok, so I may have bought a LOT of it. I went all in. And I was completely accurate in my original conviction that It. Is. Not. Worth. The. Discount. Being smug and self-righteous, feeling superior and disdainful, rolling eyes and chilling the shoulders... this is all rotten through and through. It's stinky and rotten and I simply don't understand how it can be so damn popular.

So I have since returned my purchase. But the nasty leftover filth is difficult to clean up. Apologies seem to be worthless to people who have been wronged by rightness. I'm committed to trying to understand that now, though. I refuse entertain the conviction that someone who would reject a sincere apology is "stupid." I can pretty easily understand that decision. I get it. I just wish I could be getting it at someone else's expense rather than my own.

But, more importantly than my own self-preservation, I feel grateful for the love of a God who uses my shitty decisions to deepen my understanding of his grace, and the grace He expects of me. I prefer to feel ALIVE in response to lovely things, but pain and epiphany sure do seem to do the trick every time. So I pray tonight, for my brokenness and for the broken relationships that break my heart: Come Lord Jesus Come.