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| GOD HAS SPOKEN
After 15 or so attempts to create a blogspot site, and it NOT WORKING, I have been affirmed in my decision to stay with Xanga. Seriously, people, 15 (or so) attempts. Ask Neomad7. So, please, continue to visit me here at Xanga, the (up till now) trouble-free, friendly, welcoming site. I'm staying, and that's all there is to it. Blogspot doesn't want me. | | |
| I live in a world of diapers and sippy-cups, ponytail holders and pink Barbie toothpaste. The majority of my day is spent taking care of others. And, from the outset, I want to let you know I'm not complaining about this. I wouldn't trade my stay-at-home life for work, not even after the 4th poopy diaper in one day.
But in the midst of all this, sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to be just "me" again. Not "mother" or "wife" or "babysitter" or "friend", or any one of the other 2500 hats I wear in a day. Just me. ("Just Jack!") I used to get more glimpses of this when I worked, because I had an hour lunch break, and a 20 minute commute to and from work with no one else but me. I'd jam in my car, listening to the music turned up loud (because you can do that in a kid-less car), and I'd feel young and cool. Well, not as cool when we bought the mini-van; it's hard to feel cool in a mini-van, no matter how good you look or how loud your music is. I don't have as many of those times now. And it's not really something I'm mourning, or suffering from. It's just an observation.
I also had a conversation about a similar subject last night, and have been reassured by my husband that I can have more of these times, times spent with friends and no children, if I just ask. And I wonder why I don't ask. This is something I've noticed about myself lately. I don't ask for help. I just suffer silently, a martyr for the cause (whatever "the cause" is, I don't know). How stupid is that? I guess it's pride, although I'm not quite sure where it's getting me. And in this revelation I've seen an object lesson in Molly, my cat. Molly asks for things when she wants them. If she's hungry, she lets you know. She meows, and follows you around, walking around your feet and tripping you up. If she wants to be petted, she lets you know. She'll walk all over your lap, rubbing her head against your hand, nudging you. My cat is intelligent enough to ask for what she needs. So why can't I? I'm working on this.
That's all of the introspection I have for now. Time to put on my "kitchen-cleaning" hat. | | |
| Hey, MaryZiehe, whatever happened to "The Most Important Thing I Learned at Oxford"?
Would have just left a comment, but wasn't sure it'd get read.... | | |
| Actually, I just finished watching it, as you could maybe tell...
Anyway, this is one of my favorite movies ever (definitely in my "Top 10", Rishi), and I've seen it several dozen times. I don't normally look for symbolism in the movies I watch, but throughout this particular viewing, I kept thinking about the similarities between William Wallace (at least, the way he was portrayed in the movie) and Jesus. Stay with me, here.
Both men were fighting for the freedom of their people. I think that when He was on the cross, instead of "Father forgive them; they know not what they do", Jesus could just as easily have screamed out "FREEDOM!!". One of the things that kinda' bums me out about the movie is knowing that Scotland doesn't really have that freedom that William Wallace fought and died for. But the freedom that Jesus fought and died for is eternal. It's still around, for those who will take it. A lot of times that fact becomes just rhetoric to me, and certainly not as exciting or romantic (romantic as in "marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized") as Braveheart. But Jesus was (is) a passionate, exciting guy. He loved (loves) his bride way more than Wallace loved Murron. He fought (fights) for the freedom of His people, refusing to allow them to be ruled by a cruel, loathsome tyrant. Jesus, the real Jesus, not my limited, sometimes hokey view of Him, is truly a "warrior poet". His death was not trite, but filled with the same passion, pain, determination, love, and triumph as Wallace's -- actually, much more so. Jesus is a hero. I don't think I've ever associated that word with Him.
"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free." Can't you see Him yelling?
FREEDOM!!! | | |
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