her name is allie...

but I just call her "little cat."
I wish I could upload the picture of her on my new digital camera (thanks, Leah and Chad) so that you all could appreciate her cuteness.
I'm not really a cat fan: I've always lived in a house with dogs. She just looked so cold there in the snow on our porch. She shivered and meowed, and I couldn't leave her out there all night. To be honest, I thought she belonged to the guy who lives in the downstairs apartment. Sure enough, after I'd taken care of her for a couple of days, he came up and claimed her. Well, he said she belonged to him but that he didn't want her. Twelve hour days at work and a bigger bossier cat were his reasons. Did I want her? I looked over at her, hiding under the table from him, and I just couldn't give her back.
But now I'm searching for a home for the little cat. She's really a good girl. She goes potty in the litter box only. She doesn't chew things up or break things. She's soft and cuddly and friendly. She learns quickly not to climb up on the counters or table-- at least when I'm around. :-) But I'm outvoted by the allergies, the anti-little-cat friends, and a roommate that's never lived with an animal in the house and is bizarrely freaked out by the fact that Allie doesn't just sit still and look cute like a stuffed toy.
So today I put up a sign at work, and surprisingly, I cried twice today thinking about it. It will be even more traumatic when I have to give her up, but better a good home where she will be loved than the animal shelter or the snow bank where my neighbor will send her.
I know all the cliches about old maids and cats, but there is something to be said for having a physical being of some kind around that loves me unconditionally. To come home to something that wants to show me affection is very addicting. To know that being with me makes one little cat totally and completely happy is, well, somehow amazingly cheering.
ok. now I've cried three times today about this.

Axiom

Never blog when you're ticked off.
Now I break the rule by doing just that on my break at work.
I'm ticked off about women. Some women just don't know when to stay out of stuff. They think that every opinion that they have on any issue is worth sharing. They jump into every situation bursting with "holy" ferocity and "righteous" indignation. Maybe the reason I get so ticked off about these women is that I have a natural inclination to be one. Fortunately, God has surrounded me with wise people who help me check my instinctive urges to argue and has given me common sense to listen to them. He may at some time give me a husband who will help me protect my reputation and conscience by keeping me accountable for my words. But some of these women ARE married.
So now I'm ticked off about the wimpy husbands of some of these big mouthed women. :-)
Axiom 2: If you must blog when ticked off do it on your own blog.

single focused

It was this quote from Samuel Johnson's Rasselas on singleness that helped me finally decide to do it.
"To live without feeling or exciting sympathy, to be fortunate without adding to the felicity of others, or afflicted without tasting the balm of pity, is a state more gloomy than solitude; it is not retreat, but exclusion from mankind. Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures."

Yep. I'm going to write a book. I'm going to write a book about being single. Truly there are many great authors who have written on this subject. (Elisabeth Elliot's Quest for Love; Margaret Clarkson's So You're Single as just a couple of examples) They give Biblical advice and wisdom about having the correct perspective on this situation. In no way can anything that I have to say compare to what one of these godly women has to say on this subject. I'm not going to write a "how to be single" book or a "why are you single" book or even a "how to not be single anymore" book. I really don't know enough to do that. I'd just like to write a memoir type book that gives a view into what types of issues single Christians face, an easily read, interesting book that would let another married Christian understand how to better help me to glorify God. I'd like it to be a book filled with humor and contentment, not complaints, that another single Christian could read and be encouraged in the joy of the Lord. I've always thought that I'd better wait to write. Someday when I have more wisdom, more holiness, more discretion, more experience, then I'll write. But I guess it wouldn't hurt me to express myself on an issue, knowing that as I grow in the Lord that I will understand more and that I will probably change my mind with added maturity someday.

I'm just letting you know way in advance about my book writing intentions, so don't get too excited yet. I don't even know all of the topics which will be covered in this epic. Chapter possibilities include:
Hospitality and the Single Christian--Do it. How to do it. How to extend it to singles you know. Special feature of this chapter includes the sad poem "Sunday Afternoon, The Loneliest Hours".

"If You Were Only _________" (thinner, fatter, holier, happier, prettier, smarter, quieter, louder, you fill in...)--Advice given by well meaning people who love you on how to catch a man. How to give it to a single person. How not to give it to a single person. How to grow from it as a single person. How not to focus upon it as a single person.

The Joy of Children-- Enjoy the children in your church. Rejoice even in not having children. Be a blessing as a babysitter. Don't make a career of babysitting.

Friday night adventures-- what can Christian singles find to do for fun while everyone else is out getting drunk? Lots of great personal experience stories here.

Fighting the sins that will destroy you-- discontent, bitterness, sexual immorality, rebellion.

Well, my ignorance is already showing. Maybe I won't write. But I'll think about it. If this project is something I believe will contribute to God's glory maybe I will try it out.

can you believe it?

...poor poetry still flourishes in my mind. I know, you're being sarcastic when I hear you saying, "Thank you for sharing." :-)

Night Driving

Darkness and light and other competing opposites
Like the flash and shadows trapped in my rear view mirror,
Tearing me apart,
Leaving me broken,
Clutching a useless steering wheel.


The Conversation

They meant it to be kind
But smug was the unfortunate result:
Cheesy shared smile,
Matching expressions of complacent interest,
Staring at me, but internally tuned in to each other
On a different frequency.
Great gain, small losses
In the gradual amputations of lesser friendships.

awkward moments

Grief truly has its awkward moments. even old grief. even "boy, I thought I was moving on with this" grief.
Sunday night I was with a friend that I haven't seen in a while. He was commenting on the picture of my dad and me on the fridge.
"Who's your boyfriend?"
"What?"
"Starting to go for older men, huh?" Smile.
Now I get it and smile. "Oh. That's my dad."
"I know." Another smile and a friendly pause. "So how is your dad doing?"
And all of a sudden I want to puke before I have to say the words.
"Um, he died last year."
Terribly awkward pause. Now I feel more sorry for him because he had no idea and doesn't know what to say. I try to pull off a nonchalant "it's ok and I'm so used to talking about this now" tone to salvage the rest of conversation while I answer his questions about when and how.
Ugly grief that surprises me when it invades my mind. I have learned to submit my thoughts on this to the gracious sovreignty of God, but sometimes the pain still surprises me.

Like today. It should be an easy letter to write. I was going to write to a friend. I just heard his dad isn't doing well after a lengthy illness and transplant. Encouraging words of empathy should just pour from my heart. But instead, in my sinfulness, I found myself battling anger and, frighteningly enough, jealousy. I was jealous of the time they've had to prepare themselves for this moment. I was jealous of the goodbyes. I was jealous of their shared faith in Christ that gives them sweet fellowship together. I was jealous of their certainty of forever together. I was jealous of the temporary nature of their parting, if it comes. I was jealous of every year lived past fifty-two.

So, I put aside the letter and prayed for grace... and forgiveness... and joy. I know my prayers will be answered, for myself, for my friend, for his family. God is still very good.

at least...

During a fairly brutal but honest review of why I'm not married and/or attractive to guys, a male friend mentioned that, positively, I do have a good sense of humor. At the time, this really didn't cheer me up or outweigh all the other areas of my life that were judged unattractive and needing work. I've really never heard the groom mention that he thought his bride was the girl of his dreams because she was funny. However, this quote I read today made me appreciate my area of strength a little more.

"Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing." William James

nothing to say

worth saying, that is. I've let this blog go because it's very inconvenient to keep up without a computer, because I'm too busy trying to keep up with all of my other life responsibilities, because I'm focusing on keeping work time for work, because I just haven't had anything to say that seemed worthwhile.
I am alive and blessed in many ways. No need to worry about me. Always many reasons to pray for me. :-) If God provides, I will get to go home to see my family next week.
I'll try sometime to put up a link to our church's relief ministry for Katrina victims. There's lots of stuff there worth contemplating.

"Speak what we feel..."

"...not what we ought to say."
So last night I finally took Joy's advice and made it to a production by the theater group Overshadowed. (Go to Joy's blog to find the link. You know how backward I am when it comes to these things. I'm just fighting with the backspace key here on the Garard's computer this afternoon.)

In order to prepare for seeing a three person show of King Lear, I pulled out the old Norton Anthology and "brushed up on my Shakespeare." I thoroughly enjoyed the prep work. Good thing, too, because I had to explain it to Mel, Grace, and Crystal. In the version I enacted for Grace, the roles were played by Splenda, Equal, or Sweet N' Low packets. Albany, Edgar, and Gloucester were all yellow Splenda, which kept throwing me off. Without an understanding of the basic plot of a Shakespeare play, there's no way to understand things like deeper meanings or even to really enjoy the beauty of the poetry itself.

So back to the play. Although the trip into the Chicago area with Joy, Grace, and Crystal was eventful in itself, I'll save that for another time. The performance was very well done. With only three talented actors and a handful of simple props, there we were back in Shakespeare's world inhabited by larger than life characters who spoke words that expressed our innermost thoughts and captured our wildest dreams. Nathan Bennett, Rebecca Hervas, and Andy Croston put, it seemed, their whole selves into portraying the story for us in that hour and a half. You pay to see a play like that, and still you walk away feeling like you've been given a gift. I've got food for intellectual thought for days and new motivation to finish that dusty Brit Lit II correspondance course on my shelf.

Insomnia

It's been a long time since I've had this kind of insomnia. Sure, lots of times I can't sleep, usually due to worry or illness or some other negative thing. But last night I had the good kind of insomnia. You know, when you can't sleep because you're so excited about what is going on or about what will happen next-- like when you're a kid on Christmas Eve or like when Joy would put a crockpot of soup on to cook overnight and I would wake up at 3 a.m., because it just smelled so good. Tomorrow is so full of potential that it's hard to wait.

I wasn't prepared for this feeling. I had a long conversation with Pastor and Jennie last night. One of those that starts out with, "Let's talk about a certain situation" but quickly develops into, "Let's talk about Karyn's life issues and spiritual needs." :-) I don't always exactly enjoy these kinds of conversations, but I am always thankful for them. But last night I couldn't sleep because of the excitement that was running through my mind.

God is working in my life. He is answering my prayers to show me where I need to change to be more like His Son. He is preparing my heart learn more of Himself. He loves me so much that He is intervening once again in my life for my good. He's also answering prayers for provision and direction in the lives of people that I care about around me. God is working, and I am thrilled to be allowed to be be part of His plan.

I woke up as soon as light came through my window. BEFORE MY ALARM! Don't panic, it would be too good to be true if that became a habit. The excitement was just still lingering on. So, yeah, I have an overwhelming and frightening list of "things to work on," but if God cares enough to let me know what those things are, I am excited to see how He will work to help me overcome them.

From the library

So, I'm finally checking my blog from the crowded computer lab of the Rockford Public Library (trying not to think how many germs are on this keyboard and feeling thankful for hand sanitizer).
Carl, it seems, is threatening to pull out old videos of my sixth grade self. Really, Carl, you were there. You know how icky that would be.
It's funny, but I've thought about that girl some this week already. She was so skinny and self-conscious, tripping around in her too-long plaid uniform skirt with the too-long mass of red hair, always wishing away her big glasses and buck-teeth. She hid from reality a lot in any book she could get her hands on. Occasionally her friends forced her out. Let's see, we had Pleasant, Karyn, Lisa, Stephanie, and Angie that year. I think it was called "United Sixth Grade." Frightening that I remember that. United could have been left out, though, since we fought all the time. Alliances were made and broken, the black top was a battlefield on the days we weren't laughing together. We fought about boys and other friends and petty misunderstandings and boys. The one with the loudest mouth and the biggest vocabulary often won-- and then I'd go back to my book.
I'm thankful that so much has changed. Now, friendships are more valuable and their maintenance is taken seriously. The Biblical principle of going to a friend in private when you learn of a problem is practiced more faithfully. I'm always so thrilled to walk away rejoicing after finding out that there was no problem or after resolving it while it was so small. Friendships are strengthened, and communication lines are kept clear and open.
It doesn't always happen so smoothly, of course. Sometimes you walk away rejoicing and find out days later that second and third and fourth parties have turned something simple into something like an avalanche. It's then that I bump into her: her, the sixth grade me who wants to come out kicking and screaming with frustration. Change is realized when I watch her shouts turn to tears. Grace is poured out when she can follow wise counsel and sit tightly with her mouth shut. That's so unnatural. When confronted with a discouraging, "I heard that she said that he said...", my mouth actually opened and said, "I can't listen to that. He or she should talk to me to my face. I will not listen to or act upon second-hand information anymore." Bizarre and amazing.
I'm sure I'll suffer a relapse. Sins of the tongue and heart are besetting until we die. I just pray that I can somehow hold onto this joy of a clean conscience for a little while, that I can continue to resist the urge of detailed self-defense, that I can focus my thoughts on the One who really matters, that I can keep from bitterness at finding out that other people are just as sinful as I am.
Go ahead and pull out the Ollie Octopus video, Carl. I can take seeing that girl again. I need all the reminders I can get to go forward. I don't want to fall back into being her again, unless it's weight-wise. :-)