Colleenish

Grace

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 08 Nov 2016 06:25:00 +0000

Grace grace grace I pray.

It's a season of agree to disagree in a painful way. Take, for example, this election. One side says you're voting for a liar and giving up on babies. The other days you're voting for a racist sexual predator. Do you care about babies or women? Isn't it a painful shouting match? Isn't this kind of debate always a "oh shit. How did I get sucked into that" kind of thing?

Grace grace grace

Disagreeing with those who are close. Choosing sides. Drawing in the sand. Building walls to protect ourselves.

Grace grace grace

Grace for the people who are jerks. Grace for myself in my muddling and failure and sin.

Jesus made room for women and babies, went out of his way to do so. He made room for the broken and jerks. For me.

I refuse to believe that he wants a single person to be alone or a single relationship to be cut. I refuse to believe that we are cast out because of our wrongness or even our sin. Love is our doctor, and grace is his salve. Smear it everywhere.

Grace grace

Glide

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 08 Nov 2016 06:24:00 +0000

I've had enough swimming lessons that I doubt I'll drown. I've taken lessons during every decade of my life. I've had enough where I know my strokes. I know what my body should be doing. I know how exhausting and right it can feel when your arms take long, strong strokes, and then you glide.

My body has changed a lot these days though. We don't always know each other. Losing forty pounds was terrifying, but gaining it back has been stressful too. Twenty pounds gained this month. I love it, but I still startle when I look in the mirror. Is that me? Do I want that to be me? Am I ever going to settle into a normal?

I've been disconnected from my swimming. I know to keep my head in the water, but it keeps popping out. I know to think of the pole going straight through my body, but it doesn't matter what I know. I panic. I can't keep my face in like I won't be able to breathe.

Diabetes is overwhelming. Most of the time I can take it as it comes. But the anger and grief and depression catch me in those odd moments. They tie me down and take a lot of time."Why is your body doing this to you?" they ask. I don't know.

The other day I put on my suit and got into the water, but I knew it was all wrong. I couldn't get the rhythms right. Only later did I realized that my blood sugar was too low, probably affecting my coordination.

And that happens too often now. I loved the needles at first. Nothing else had worked. The insulin works. But last week I went from high to low over and over. I can tell when I'm low. The shaking, sweating, and general panic of adrenaline is hard to miss. I can deal, but I wouldn't choose it to be like this.

And really all I can do is show up. Put on my suit. Bring the body that I currently have whether it's the tired one in those tiny shorts or the one with the round, bruised belly.

All I can do is take my current body to the doctor. Feed it good food and medicine. Be as active as possible. Be kind to this stranger that is housing my soul. Read the diabetes books, but don't be dismayed. Cut out the extra sugar. Give myself breaks and then slack and then more breaks.

Today, the water felt perfect, like it had been made for me. My shoulders were strong. My feet and hands moved like I wanted them to. I reigned as queen of the tiny pool. Body and soul merged. "Oh. There I am." Stroke. Stroke. Glide.

Humility

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Mon, 10 Oct 2016 03:06:00 +0000

I'm learning to live with sickness.

I'm learning that my worth is not in how I feel, what I do, or how I look. But it's hard to remember that.

I'm learning that I don't have much self-control as i wish, but that each day new.

I'm learning to celebrate the little things, a bath, a clean kitchen, a clean desk, unpacking one box, candles, feeling well enough to have a normal day.

I'm learning to accept a ride, prayers, encouragement, and help.

I'm learning that even worst cases can be blessings.

I'm learning that I don't have to be positive or happy, but it helps to keep moving.

I'm learning that when other people are worried, I need to listen. I need to be humble like when I drink and someone asks for my keys.

I'm learning that I'm fragile. The line between feeling good and crying like a toddler to go home isn't that thick.

I'm learning that I'm loved, and there are many people to pick me up when I fall.

Update: Cancer

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Fri, 29 Apr 2016 03:46:00 +0000

Dad is doing well. He is going to do chemo, radiation, and another surgery, but both of the cancers appear to be slow-growing and not life threatening at this point. This surgery is expected to be much more minor, but he'll probably have to do intravenous chemo instead of pills this time around. He is already more himself.

This has been really scary, especially because of bad communication. Thank God that Dad's okay for now.

Thoughts in Which My Dad has Cancer

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Wed, 13 Apr 2016 15:54:00 +0000

My dad was just diagnosed a second kind cancer. He's a lifelong smoker, both of whose parents died of cancer. This isn't a worst case scenario. I just don't know what that means. I don't really know what's going on. The waiting is hard. I want it to be over and him to be okay.

The waiting may be the hardest part. The suspended grief and fears. Telling myself for a month that the lump is probably just a harmless cyst, and then being wrong. Thinking about his death, knowing later I may have to say, "Ha ha. I don't know why I worried." Right now I do know.

I can only talk about it in bursts. It's not that I don't want people to know, it's just that I'm already having a hard time. And there are only so many times I want to cry in any given week.

I don't know how to balance the need to not worry with the need to be prepared.

It feels weird to work it into conversations, "So...btw...my dad has two kinds of cancer. Feel bad for me.," But I do talk about it because I want people to know. I feels awkward, but I get mad at my friends for not sharing the hard things on their lives.

Having a big family just multiplies the sadness. I hurt for each of them, and the pain echoes.

The doctors should have a new plan sometime this week. Something I've heard before.

The worst part for me is knowing he's suffering. My strong, selfless dad. Watching him lay on front of the tv endlessly, unable to do much more.

Pray for us. Sometimes I can't.

Best Books of 2015

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Mon, 28 Dec 2015 01:50:00 +0000

I had a hard time choosing books this year. There are lots of good ones.

Novels
March by Geraldine Brooks Grownup book about the Mr. March, a minor character in Little Women. It explores fidelity and war. Stirring. Poetic. I loved reading it.
The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King
A book about a girl who gets lost in the woods. This short read was engrossing and surprisingly philosophical. A good read for anyone.

Graphic Novels
This One Summer by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki Beautiful book about the joy and confusion of being a young adolescent.
Lena Finkle's Magic Barrel by Anya Ulinich This is an odd, autobiographical book about a American immigrant who wades through unhappiness. Her journey through mistakes and not knowing herself is unique.
The Arrival by Shaun Tan
This wordless book tells the story about a man who immigrates to a new place. It blends the familiar and the alien to create a complex story. I bought it for two family members.

Nonfiction
The Seven Principals for Making Marriage Work by John Gottman
Best relationship book that I've ever read. Research based advice on how to evaluate and strengthen your relationship.
tiny beautiful things: Advice on Life and Love by Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed
An advice column that feels like it was written by your best friend to your best self. This book speaks to the most important parts of the human experience. These columns address love, friendship, grief, and failure. The letter to the woman who had miscarried made me cry. I didn't agree with every piece of advice, but I loved the beauty and thoughtfulness of the answers.
How We Decide by Jonah Lehrer
Accessible science about how our brains make decisions and when they are most likely to be right.

One I Hated
The Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher
I love the suspense of this goofy series about a wizard private eye. I've read a bunch of the books and recommended it many times. There's always been some sexism. The main character describes every woman's sex appeal as soon as we meet her. It's as if the most important thing about her is whether he would do her or not. I've overlooked that for the sake of the story.

But then Butcher introduced a character named "Listens-to-the-wind" aka "Injun' Joe." That seems really tasteless. I'm done recommending these books.

Honorable Mention
Accidental Saints by Nadia Bolz-Weber
Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawton
How to Be Interesting by Jessica Hagy
For Better: The Science of a Good Marriage by Tara Parker-Pope

Inchoate Faith

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Wed, 29 Jul 2015 06:55:00 +0000

I read the phrase "inchoate faith" today.

I looked up inchoate. (IN-KOE-ATE) It means forming and growing and changing, not being finished and complete. I love that. I have inchoate faith. I'm not where I'm going to end up. T I'm in the incomplete part. I don't have the answers.

That gives me hope.

Painful Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Wed, 29 Jul 2015 06:46:00 +0000

My sister who is a lot younger than me got a teaching job this week. The first job she applied for. They called her the next day. I helped her apply for the job, and I'm so so happy but her.

But also.

I've been working forever to find a teaching job. And doing heaps of hard things. And feeling inadequate for so long.

I'm not even sure that I want to teach, just that I want to try. I want a chance.

I think she's naturally a better teacher than me. I wanted a head start.

I feel like a loser. Like I should have done a hundred things differently. Like I'm not working hard enough.

Some of that is true. I don't know if I'm cut out to be a teacher. I think I could have done some things differently to get a better start in the profession. I'm limited by being myself, by not being great at research, by being easily overwhelmed by these kinds of decisions, by not being prepared enough. I wonder if I should have taken bigger risks. I can't change the past though.

I couldn't have worked harder.

I'm not really unhappy for my sister.

I don't want to listen to shame. I am loved and worthy.

But, friends, it's been painful.

A Good Person

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Sun, 26 Jul 2015 03:52:00 +0000

When I grow up, I want to be a good person.
Someone who gives themselves to make something beautiful.
Which maybe is fundamentally flawed.
I want to be a good person who doesn't trumpet her good acts. Or do them just so people can think well of her.
I want to spend it all. I want to max out my credit cards. Use up all my goodwill.
For the sake of something bigger.
I want to taste failure, to hold it in my mouth and swish it around on my palette.
I don't want to be unsullied. I don't want to be a virgin. I don't want to be on a pedestal.
But I want to be a good person.

I'm enrolling in good person school. I'm filling my backpack with an open heart and mind and freshly sharpened moxie.
I'm listening to the teachers and taking notes. I'm sitting in the front of Professor Goodfriend's class.
I'm showing up on time for Doctor Nature's lecture.
I'm getting up early to study Mrs. Trueword's notes.
I don't like Mr. Discipline, but I still show up to his Monday morning lectures.
Mrs. Daring fascinates me, but her final project seems hard.
I'm not flunking out this time. I'm ready to do the work. I'm hoping to pass with flying colors.
I don't want to waste this time.

Belated Best Books of 2014

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Sat, 13 Jun 2015 01:27:00 +0000

This is late, but I wanted to keep track. I didn't read as many books this year as I did in the previous years, so I'll keep this brief.

Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple Totally cute book about a snarky woman who is dealing with a lot of pain. I had some very good conversations about this one. Highly recommended.

Courage: Gutsy Poems for Girls edited by Karen Finneyfrock and Mindy Nettifee Modern and stirring poems.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie
One of Alexie's best known works; still shines. I loved the poetic prose and the raw honesty.

The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion
Another cute book, a romance about a man who decides to start a Wife Project. Very warm and funny.

A Long Way From Chicago by Richard Peck
Similar to the Secondhand Lions movie, kids visit their grandpa and have hilarious adventures. Peck shows so much humor and imagination in so little space. Also check out the sequel.

And one I kind of hated.
All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
This book was incredibly beautiful. It won some prestigious awards. It read like a fairy tale that was historically correct and suspenseful. I stayed up for hours to finish it. And....I hated the last few pages. I was prepared for an ecstatic or devastating ending. But this one just felt cruel.

Honorable Mention: The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry, Holes, The Power of Habit, Let's Pretend This Never Happened.

On Shaming People For Not Going to Church

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Sat, 13 Jun 2015 01:02:00 +0000

The people who won't come back are the ones who tried the hardest.

We would like an apology for backing that truck over out hearts.
There's so much blood.

Instead we get yelled at for dissenting. Called faithless and bitter. In so many words. By our friends.

How can we go back to that?

Tell me again about service, about being a martyr. If only we had cleaned more bathrooms, spent more time in nursery, listened to more sermons on cassettes. If only we had let ourselves be stabbed, wounded one with time. Jab us with your pointed fingers. Never say you bleed.

Why God! Why did you let your chosen people act like a bunch of jerks? Why did you let us stay in that danger, that rip tide of death?

I know all the right answers. But who will sit with me when death is near? Right answers mean nothing then.

Be near us, God. Even when we grieve. Wipe our blood off of each other's weapons.

What I'm Into May 2015

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 02 Jun 2015 02:13:00 +0000

I haven't blogged in a while, so I thought this format might be a good way to ease myself into a routine.

Books:One time I was hanging out with friends, and no one else wanted to talk to this drunk guy who was there. He spent an hour talking about the Dresden Files and how they changed his life. They are corny, fun (but not life-changing) books about a wizard private investigator. Later I found out that a lot of people I know read them. I just bought the two next ones. Love.

Also notable is The Arrival by Shaun Tan, a wordless graphic novel about immigration to an alien land.

Life:

With moving and work, I did one quarter of my school work in three quarters of the allotted time. Shit's hitting the fan now. I've got it though. I hope.

Our swimming pool opened at the apartment. Even though I am the world's worst swimmer, I can't stay away. Just a few months ago, I was so stressed by not finding a place to move a feeling like a loser. Now, I have a beautiful, beautiful apartment and roommate. I am so rich.

I quit my pizza making job. The timing ended up being Providential, but I'm surprised at how much I miss it. I miss taking care of all those little high schoolers.

Bob and I have started bickering a little, which is my favorite. It's communication, and it's undergirded in care and respect. I generally only share the negative, unedited Colleen with people I really trust. He totally spoiled me for my birthday, which I took full advantage of.

I got glasses! I still feel kind of fishbowly and off balance, but I'm so relieved for my eyes to have a break. I'm nervous about looking like a dork, but considering the glasses I wore as a teen, there's no place to go but up.

Music: I've fallen in love with Sufjan Stevens again. His new album is largely about his troubled relationship with his mom and her death from cancer. It's so sad and beautiful. Sometimes I just want to hear about really sad things. I feel so beat down by all the fake, upbeat answers. It helps me a lot to know that other people are there in the mire, that they see the bullshit. I have totally been listening to this and crying for no specific reason.

Feminism: What It Means to Me

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Thu, 18 Dec 2014 05:56:00 +0000

It means that if you say or imply a woman is a slut, I will ask you to stop. I'm sorry for those times that I haven't.

It doesn't mean I yell at clueless men who open doors for me. But if I ask you to stop and you don't, we won't be friends.

It means no means no.

It means I hurt for the abused. And I tell my friends and family to leave, to run away, to fight back. That no one gets to hit you. I don't give second chances to that kind of evil.

It means I'm not a fucking saint.

It might mean we disagree about men and women's roles. That's okay as long as you listen. Don't assume I'm a bad person for thinking differently.

It means I don't think there's anything wrong with my friends who are single or childless. I think the world is better because they are who they are.

It means I love Jesus.

It means I don't tolerate homophobic slurs.

It means I love being strong, physically, emotionally, intellectually. Women are strong.

It means I disagree that "men are protectors and women are nurturers" way of thinking. Don't stop girls from being strong. Don't stop boys from being caring.

It means that I think women's value comes from being people, not objects, sexual or otherwise.

Is that so different or villainous? Aren't there ways we agree?

Colleen

kindness

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 23 Sep 2014 18:34:00 +0000

Be kind to yourself. Be extreme about your compassion. Who says you have to be fair? Throw out your list of failures. Misplace your list of faults. Dance. Start again.

Tell yourself all the good things about yourself.
Don't pretend you don't know them.
Savor your life. Savor your body.

Treat yourself:
Like you are strong and wise and lovely.
To tea.
To hard things.
To joy.
Well.

I love this quote from Pinterest

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 11 Mar 2014 03:09:00 +0000

Your job is not to judge. Your job is not to figure out if someone deserves something. Your job is to lift the fallen, to restore the broken, to heal the hurting.

Best Books of 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Sun, 05 Jan 2014 03:43:00 +0000

The unusual thing about these books is that the first half of them are nonfiction. I read way more nonfiction than normal this year.Almost half the books I read were nonfiction. And I really enjoyed it. In other news, I joined a book club. That has been fun.

Queen Bees and Wannabees by Rosalind Wiseman
One of the best books ever about teenage girls. Very insightful into what motivates the typical teenage girl
It talks about how to get her to stop rolling her eyes, how to tell if she is being bullied, and a lot more. I found it to be incredibly helpful and true.

Daring Greatly by Brene BrownI love even the title. This book discusses feelings that are human and so universal, guilt and shame. Brown gives lots of anecdotes and advice on how to disarm shame, and how to live courageously.

Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine BooThis heartcrushing book reads like a novel, but is the true story of events that happen in a slum in India. The worst part for me was the story about the boy whose life goal is to get enough nutrition that his body will grow to a normal size. The stories about the poverty are awful, but also they show the hope that lives inside these people too. This book was important, informative, and beautiful.

A Year of Biblical Living by Rachel Held EvansThis humorous books deals very carefully with what it means to live biblically. Evans writes about touchy subjects with a ton of grace and self-deprecation. She does things like praising her husband at the city gate and practicing silence. She confronted a bunch of parts of the Bible that make me cringe. And then she comes to conclusions that don't dismiss the Bible, but also don't rob women of their humanity.

Stiff by Mary Roach
Mary Roach talks about what happens to us after death. She is informative, a little gross, hilarious, and extremely thought provoking. Death is often a taboo subject, but Roach does a stellar job of helping us face it.

Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes by Chris CrutcherThis young adult book is about a teen with horrible burns and her loyal friend. I love books where the characters are dynamic, growing as the story goes along. This book is impossibly exciting, but it ends without the same stereotypes that it begins with.

The Shipping News by Annie ProulxThis unique novel is not an especially easy read. It is gothic with dark, bizarre characters, most of whom are unhappy. Yet those same characters made it a wonderful read.

Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew QuickThis book is about a macho guy who is trying to remember what happened and why his wife left him. And he is trying to be a good enough person to win her back. I liked the characterizations and couldn't help but to root for him. A fun read.

Who Could That Be at This Hour? by Lemony Snicket
This is the first book in an unfinished children's series about asking the wrong questions. It is zany. A young Lemony Snicket, apprentice of an undisclosed organization, goes to a small town to solve mysteries that quickly become more and more sinister and convoluted. My favorite character is Moxie, the newspaper girl who takes her portable typewriter everywhere.

The Second Life of Abigail Walker by Frances O'Roark Dowell
A wise children's book about friendship and change. Abby decides that she doesn't want to do what it takes to be part of the cool crowd any more. So she gets bullied. I liked that this book is more realistic about bullying. Abby doesn't deal with it by developing magic powers like in other stories. She does what she can to stay safe, even if it means hiding. She develops into a strong, admirable person.

When I Was On Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Wed, 09 Oct 2013 00:46:00 +0000

It's been a long time since I prayed to "be on fire for God." I feel like it happened eons ago. It's such an apt thing that to pray because I did burn, and eventually I burnt out. Let me tell you about that.

As a teen I was totally wholehearted about loving God. I was really sweet and dangerous, mistakenly basing my whole life on doing the right things for Him. My friends and I had long conversations about courtship and kissing dating goodbye, while we drew each other pictures of Veggie Tales characters. I did dances to Steven Curtis Chapman songs. I would do practically anything to feel God in a room. I read my Bible and Christian books over and over. I befriended only people who wanted God just as much as I did. I was willing to look goofy for God, willing not to fit into my peer group.

I didn't understand that loving God can take on many forms. I didn't really understand God.

I thought about what I would do if someone rushed in with a gun and said they would kill me if I didn't denounce God. Because loving God was such a huge, important thing, that even one percent of doubt or disobedience would pollute my beliefs, ruin my relationship with God.

And, yeah, I was self-righteous and obnoxious. I was still a stupid, knowitall, idealistic teen. But also, I was horribly lonely. I believed God wanted me to be uncomfortable for Him and to be totally different from the world, so I didn't know how to make friends.

But God met me where I was. I look back and feel embarrassed and frustrated at that version of myself. But that version of myself was doing her best. And without that version of myself, I wouldn't be a Christian.

What I would tell my teenage, on fire, self is this: That your big test isn't going to be men with guns. Or whether you betray your silly standards or not. The big test in life is how well you love in a million trillion big and little moments. Love others and yourself. Because you are loved. And you would be loved even if you walked out of that room and denied Christ.
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school year

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 03 Sep 2013 20:53:00 +0000

The new school year is in swing. I want it to be great. I want to perfectly take care of every priority, with nothing falling through the cracks. But I already know I'm weak.

The topic (fixation) of my life this week is how life could have been. All the choices that brought me here. And I've been attacked by facebook jealousy. You know, where other people seem to have it better than you, and you feel like you missed out. Some of my friends got great teaching jobs that I feel especially shamed by.

I must say blah!

Yet, I wonder if this is a healthy thing, evaluating what I've done and thinking about what other steps I should take. I keep rejecting any shame, but the rest of it all can be healthy.

My conclusions:
I want this year to be full of adventure and to lead towards adventure. I need some new things to try. If you have suggestions, I want to hear them.

I want to be better organized and make better use of my time. I've been super lazy this summer, and I'm ready to get back to work.

I really want to teach. I need to keep learning about my profession. I want to feel more capable.

1. What are your resolutions for life right now?
2. What adventures do you want to have?

This One's for the Guys

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Thu, 16 May 2013 19:52:00 +0000

I've had this conversation about delayed adolescence several times this week. It seems a few of my friends have been reading this article about how guys our age aren't growing up.

I guess that's sort of true. We all give in to the entertainment culture sometimes; I know I watch way too much Netflix. Some guys I know still live with their parents. Or are working dead end jobs. Or still aren't sure what they want to do with their lives. And the women in almost any church outnumber the men by a noticeable ratio. Or whatever. I guess that if you buy into this Evangelical Christian idea that if the ultimate goal is to be married, have a bunch of kids, and lead in your church, then these guys are failures.

But that's not my perspective.

For one thing, it doesn't make you more godly to get married at 19. I know many people who have waited partly because they are making the world better instead of making money. The Bible is pretty clear that married and not married are both honorable.

For another thing, the economy sucks and people are doing the best they can. It's hard to figure out what you want to do and get hired doing it right now.

And lastly, I think this is about expectations. If it's okay for you not to want to date someone, even if he's nice, then it has to be okay for guys not to be ready to date you. That doesn't make him immature. He might just not like you; that sucks, but it's not wrong. It is so hard to be friends with Christian guys because there are ALL KINDS of wild expectations and assumptions. We have to quit doing that to one another

I can name upwards of 25 AWESOME guys my age. My sisters are sick of how often I rave about my friends' husband's and about how well they treat my friends. These guys might be unique in their bravery and dedication, but I'm not convinced that they are rare. I salute them.

Life

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 05:30:00 +0000

How is life?

Um...mostly I'm just tired. I know a lot of you are too. If you have a new baby. If you are working for something really big. If you are teaching full time. If you're going to school and working. If you're doing fourteen hour days.

I hate complaining about being tired. I know that it is sometimes part of being an adult, that it's not a complaint unique to me. Okay. So I promise to suck it up soon.

But tonight, I'm just tired, friend. I worked seven full shifts this week, often doubling up. One night I slept on the couch because I couldn't make it down the hall.

Also, there is cooking and cleaning and life to do. I hate that the things in my life, such as loving friends well, feel like a chore instead of a joy. Forgive my weakness. I'm just tired tonight.

I Just Want to Say That I'm Happy

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 19 Feb 2013 04:26:00 +0000

Hi,

I just want to say that I'm happy.

I'm single. I don't date because there's no one around that I want to date. And I'm okay with that.

I think that's hard for people to believe. Our world tells us that we would be better off with a romantic relationship, even a bad relationship. I don't think that's true. I actually spend a lot less time crying and eating ice cream than you probably picture.

I know it's odd to be single and content. Sure, I have the occasional "I wish I had that" pang, but usually I am happy. I don't feel that I less than other people, somehow sick. I'm not waiting for someone to come along and complete me.

Being single might be my thing. Not to brag, but I'm really good at it. You might even say that I'm a prodigy at keeping out of relationships.
I'm single, but I am not lonely. Married people probably have just as many times when they're lonely or sad as I have. I have a ton of great family. I have a ton of great friends. I have church.

I like being me (mostly). I like my goals, my quirks, my life. I can read for three hours at a time, take a break, and read some more. I question things deeply and come to my own conclusions. I'm quiet. I don't spend a lot of time on my hair. I'm pretty happy being myself.

I already have a lot to give. I already have good friendships. I already take care of people that you may not see. I already have life experiences. I already have cared for a ton of kids. I already have big dreams. I already have a fulfilling life. I already have a Savior.

I would rather see someone else's happily ever after than have my own. I accept that my worth is not in my relationship status, that the best day of my life will not be my wedding day. I am already loved. I wish the rest of the world would see that too.

Colleen

Please see my talking about singleness disclaimer.

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Sat, 09 Feb 2013 07:22:00 +0000

I love this retelling of Pride and Prejudice.

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 06:38:00 +0000

This is the blog in which I tell you that I have subscribed to a newspaper.
Because they gave me a free paper. Because I got sentimental about this dying piece of art. Because I forgot that I already have multiple blogs and fourteen books to read (seriously, I counted. And that only includes one of my loaners from my sister).

So now I'm going to get a newspaper. Every. Single. Day.
I don't see it lasting for more than a few months. But if you need me, I'll be reading the paper. Maybe you should come over for a cup of caffeine and help me out.

Chivalry vs. Consideration

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Tue, 29 Jan 2013 02:53:00 +0000

One of my friends made a big mistake recently. Some guy insisted on carrying a chair for her. After trying to get him to back off, she finally exclaimed, "Screw you!"
I sympathize with her, although I think there are better ways to address the problem. Personally, I have a speech that I give out about how I want to be considered as a person and not a gender. Here are some of the main ideas of that speech.

I know genuinely nice guys who do all the traditional chivalry stuff. I know a lot of girls like that. I know it can be well intended, as respect, as kindness. But it doesn't feel like kindness to me. It feels like an affront.

So here's the deal with all of that: I want to be treated like a person, not as either a higher being or as property.

Opening doors -- Um...I've got that. When I was around guys who expected to open doors, I always had to awkwardly wonder, "Should I wait a second? Does he have this? Can I just sink through the floor with embarrassment, please, God?" Doors aren't heavy, and it's logistically awkward for them to be opened for me. Unless I've got my arms full or something, leave me alone.

Carrying stuff -- Sometimes guys want to carry heavy stuff for me. This is totally okay if it's really too heavy for me, or if I have too much. I honestly appreciate it if I can't or shouldn't try to do it. But I should get to be the judge of that. If I say, "No, I've got it," and someone insists, they are being really condescending. You would never insist on carrying somethinf for a guy. It's not okay to do it to me either. Sometimes I like to be strong.

Paying for dates -- Sometimes I let my friends pay for meals or coffee. Sometimes I don't. That too should be my choice. I have a job like most adults.

I do not mind being helped. But I do mind not being able to choose whether I get help or not. When I was a kid, the church I went to decided that all kids should call all adults Mr. and Mrs. My parents mostly agreed, with one important distinction. Our family rule is that we call people what they want to be called. If you really prefer Ed, we will call you Ed. That to me illustrates the difference between chivalry and actual manners. There is a difference between acting in a way that appears polite and acting in a way that is genuinely considerate of other people's wishes.

I do want my brothers to treat women well. But that isn't limited to the useless chivalry of opening a door. I tell my brothers that they had better talk to the awkward, uncool girls, even if they just say hi. I hope that they never use words like, "bitch, "skank," "whore," or "slut" to talk about any woman. I teach them to recognize when songs are demeaning to women, and to count that against those bands. I have taught them that I am going to be mad when I hear sermons that make women seem to be property, that exclude women, or that only count women who are mothers. And they know they are on thin ice when they make jokes about women being weak or emotional. I might laugh, but they better be standing out of reach.

I don't want to be mean or ungrateful. I'm not going to stop and fight with strangers over a door, but I tend to equate chivalry with prejudice, with forcing me to be weak. If I say that I've got it, you should listen.

Learning to Understand

noreply@blogger.com (Calamity Colleen) — Wed, 23 Jan 2013 06:35:00 +0000

I say that I want to go to church, but it makes me too angry. She says, “It amazes me that you still want to go at all.” I get her just as much as she gets me.

I understand that sometimes you need to sit in the back of the church with your arms crossed, that in those moments you can be crying out to God more authentically than the times you jumped up and down in the front. I get that God can handle my anger, that He can handle my curse words. I get that faith is not a feeling. I clearly understand that if we pray out loud in a circle holding hands that you might run out, or pretend to go to the bathroom and cry, or never come back. I've been there.

I know that if you grew up in a church, you hear a million voices in your head saying, “If you really loved God, it would show. If you leave this church, you are breaking covenant. You are setting a bad example. You need to get over yourself.” Those voices don't tell the whole truth.

Sometimes faith is like a seed. You can't even tell it's alive sometimes. It's just a little rock burried in the ground, but it contains life.

When you leave churches, when you don't want to be part of the system, when you quit doing childcare, I understand. I know that church is fucked up.

It's okay not to be okay. Even when you don't know why. It's okay to be messy. It's okay to be wrong.

I know what it's like not to have the words to pray any more.

Even so, I hope that you make good choices. I hope that you don't burn every bridge. I hope that you don't hurt yourself, disfigure yourself completely. I hope that you don't forget that you were made to look like God.

I hope you have friends who will listen, who will let you hurt, who will let you heal. I hope you do the good things that you can do, because those are the bread crumbs of grace, leading you forward. I hope you see beauty.

Stop doing religion. Just accept what God is doing for you.

I understand that we'll never figure it out.

But I believe in God, and I hope you do too, despite the doubts. I believe that He is good, and that He died for me. I believe that we are well-loved, and because of that we can somehow belong to each other.

When we are completely well-loved, what more is there to fear?