Online friends are awesome
It’s been crazy day and I’m just now checking in on my computer since this morning. I’ve spent my day sorting $9,998.00 worth of Boy Scout Popcorn and then distributing it waiting for those scouts the parents to come pick up the popcorn at the designated location. As usual, there is always the one that didn’t get the message or forgot or whatever the excuse. This year there were more than just the one, but as of this minute I only have the popcorn that my son sold (not the other 39 boys’). OH, and the chocolate covered pretzels are really good! *licks fingers* Sweet’n'Salty. I will be hiding this bag from the rest of the house. Yes, I will.
I have so much more I want to say and to help explain, but I just don’t have the words to make it clear about which options work and which ones don’t and why. There is so much more than what I have written. So much more than what I can say. So much more about the history of why things are like they are here. So much more. Bad days come and bad days go. I am quite certain I will see them again. I am quite certain that all my days will not always be bad.
I have had a number of phone calls (voice mails), e-mails, and chat notes sent my way today. I can not thank everyone enough for the kind words. I know I made it sound horrible, and truly life is tough right now, but I have an awesome husband and great children. We have a roof over our heads and we will keep it somehow. We have food in the fridge and the biggest damn turkey ever that will probably feed us for a month. Earlier this week we had some friends call us and ask us how we liked our venison cut. They had another good hunting day and no more room in their freezer. I have missed my freezer full of venison since I quit hunting. We are in need of some things for school uniforms, but we have skorts and tights and I can probably ask the principle if there is a clothes bank of donated and outgrown uniforms. The principle lives down the road from us and I see her walking often so I may just stop her the next time I see her on one of her walks around the block. If there is not an outgrown uniform bank, then maybe I just need to start one. I am sure we are not the only ones who end up in this situation. With six children the Christmas giving is always a bit of a challenge and a few children ago we started drawing names, for many reasons, but mostly budget. If each child got a present from Santa, and one from Mama and Papa, and one from each sibling - we’d never have room for anything in this house, even our beds. LOL. So I told them this year we’d be giving only homemade gifts this year. The announcement was fairly well received. I got the “Well, I wish you knew how to make electronic things.” “Well, what if I draw Bairno’s name? What’s he gonna give me? Drool.” “At least that’s homemade.” And then there were the girls: “Oh, I like the jewelry you make.” “What about Santa?” That one hurt, but I reminded them that Santa makes everything homemade. “That’s right.” “Nintendo is made in Japan, not Santa’s workshop.” These children; I’m afraid they got my gadget gene. I’ve been missing my Palm since it died and I would love and iPod and I want Photoshop and drool this and drool that and yada, yada, yada. But I know deep inside that one way or another it will work out. I know that the gifts are not important. I know what is important about Christmas. And it’s not that cute little baby in a manger, it’s the Cross. What’s important is why that baby came here to earth to begin with.
I am trying to decide how to go about handling some of this and I wonder if one of my ideas may be helpful to other pastoral wives of any denomination. We are a different breed and have so many things of which we can not speak. Things we have been told. Things that have been shared with us privately. Things that effect other things and balance is difficult when a decision has to be made. In a position of not being allowed to be the complete mama-bear because of the fear of retribution that could fall on my husband and his job. In a position to have to choose between things no wife or mother of a man of any other profession are asked to choose. Balancing what is “expected” with reality and then having to explain reality when the glass house we live in only gets viewed threw glass bricks making each person’s opinion of what they think is fact a distortion of the truth without concern for seeking the complete Truth.
Not stated by me (and on my husband’s blog), but what I feel often:
Here’s the thing. The Church is the bride of Christ and Jesus married a very, very cheap woman. . . You’ve outlined in a nutshell why I have such a hard time going to church.
I’m still sad. I’m still stressed. I’m still angry at times. But I’ve got my chocolate covered pretzels and my really big turkey. I still want that Manhattan, though. Don’t worry, I’m not pulling out the life insurance policies ((That’s not an option, Y’all.)). Yet. ;)
I’m glad your outlook has improved. A homemade Christmas sounds great! I was actually thinking about that just the other day.
I’m always impressed when people can see the silver lining because I rarely can in my own life. Kudos!
and pass the pretzels!
Ann’s last blog post..Twilight Spiel