In the midst of my Jon & Kate tirade yesterday, Kara said something that rang very true.
Hearing about divorce makes you look at your spouse differently.
Even if it's just for a moment, they're suddenly an individual again - with thoughts, wants, and needs separate from you.
Makes me shudder just to think about it.
At the same time, it makes me so thankful that such thoughts feel so foreign.
Of course Keith is his own person.
But I certainly don't think of him like that.
I don't even really think of him as "mine."
He's part of me.
Plain and simple.
And so very beautiful.
So yeah - I have those gloomy no-one-ever-plans-for-divorce-so-what-makes-me-different thoughts.
For a minute.
And that's all.
Thank God.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Soapbox
In February, my position was "downsized."
In other words, I don't make as much money now as I did then.
That reality has forced my family to shuffle our priorities a bit.
First thing to go: TV.
And that doesn't mean we just get fewer channels, or have crappy reception.
We get zero channels.
Period.
I missed it for about a week.
And every once in a while, I long for a Sunday afternoon with Mike Rowe.
But by and large, I can't remember when we had time to watch.
That doesn't make me a better person than you.
Just like the fact that you jog doesn't make you a better person than me.
Just had to put that out there.
Can you guess where this is going?
I've got something to say about... you guessed it: Jon & Kate.
I don't have anything new to say about their situation.
You've read my opinions stated by reporters a thousand times already:
-Heartbroken for the kids
-Knew it was coming
-The show will need to change if it will survive
-Kate can be a real bitch sometimes
-I miss the coupon clipping, real-life family from Season 1
-Yadda yadda yadda
That said, I fell in love with this family long ago, but especially while I was home on maternity leave.
Kate and me were buds. And I could ID her kids better than ones I see in person sometimes. I felt more connected to them than I did with people I actually have relationships with. Part of that was a symptom of my much needed postpartum hibernation. But part of that is the direct result of me just getting way too wrapped up in TV.
There, I said it.
Again, if you "follow" a show, I'm not judging you here. Seriously.
I would kill for an episode of Intervention right now.
And I heard about the new "Obsessed" series on A&E. Oooh, I want me some of that.
But I digress.
What's really irking my tater today is everybody saying "Shame on TLC"
"Shame on Kate"
"Shame on Jon"
"TLC should cancel the show"
Why? Because your obsession with watching someone else's life fall apart makes them money? Are you kidding?
If you watch the show, you have no right to judge or cast blame (or shame) on anyone - you fed the fire. I did, too.
And if you don't watch the show, then shut up.
Guess I should take my own advice, eh?
I didn't realize I felt so passionately about all this until right now. (thanks a lot, Kara)
Just don't get me started on American Idol.
In other words, I don't make as much money now as I did then.
That reality has forced my family to shuffle our priorities a bit.
First thing to go: TV.
And that doesn't mean we just get fewer channels, or have crappy reception.
We get zero channels.
Period.
I missed it for about a week.
And every once in a while, I long for a Sunday afternoon with Mike Rowe.
But by and large, I can't remember when we had time to watch.
That doesn't make me a better person than you.
Just like the fact that you jog doesn't make you a better person than me.
Just had to put that out there.
Can you guess where this is going?
I've got something to say about... you guessed it: Jon & Kate.
I don't have anything new to say about their situation.
You've read my opinions stated by reporters a thousand times already:
-Heartbroken for the kids
-Knew it was coming
-The show will need to change if it will survive
-Kate can be a real bitch sometimes
-I miss the coupon clipping, real-life family from Season 1
-Yadda yadda yadda
That said, I fell in love with this family long ago, but especially while I was home on maternity leave.
Kate and me were buds. And I could ID her kids better than ones I see in person sometimes. I felt more connected to them than I did with people I actually have relationships with. Part of that was a symptom of my much needed postpartum hibernation. But part of that is the direct result of me just getting way too wrapped up in TV.
There, I said it.
Again, if you "follow" a show, I'm not judging you here. Seriously.
I would kill for an episode of Intervention right now.
And I heard about the new "Obsessed" series on A&E. Oooh, I want me some of that.
But I digress.
What's really irking my tater today is everybody saying "Shame on TLC"
"Shame on Kate"
"Shame on Jon"
"TLC should cancel the show"
Why? Because your obsession with watching someone else's life fall apart makes them money? Are you kidding?
If you watch the show, you have no right to judge or cast blame (or shame) on anyone - you fed the fire. I did, too.
And if you don't watch the show, then shut up.
Guess I should take my own advice, eh?
I didn't realize I felt so passionately about all this until right now. (thanks a lot, Kara)
Just don't get me started on American Idol.
Monday, June 22, 2009
When it rains...
...my basement floods.
For the third year in a row, Holland is seeing record amounts of rainfall.
This past weekend's storm may qualify as a State of Emergency.
My family weathered the storm in a dry tent.
We came home two days later to 3 inches of water in the basement.
The cats were flooded out from their litter box, so even our dry rooms needed some drastic cleaning measures.
Oh how I miss our 2nd floor rental apartment right now. With a landlord. Who you call when stuff smells real bad, leaks, or is broken.
But, after 24 hours, we're in a much better place.
We have amazing families who came to help.
We know better than to keep our good stuff vulnerable in the basement.
Our basement isn't finished, so the carpet that's down is fixable.
Did I mention our amazing families?
Not to mention my POWER HOUSE husband.
Seriously - is there anything sexier than a man with a mop?
There's still about 200% humidity in our house and hotter than you-know-where.
But I'm calling it quits.
After two hours at the laundromat, I feel like Charlie looks:
For the third year in a row, Holland is seeing record amounts of rainfall.
This past weekend's storm may qualify as a State of Emergency.
My family weathered the storm in a dry tent.
We came home two days later to 3 inches of water in the basement.
The cats were flooded out from their litter box, so even our dry rooms needed some drastic cleaning measures.
Oh how I miss our 2nd floor rental apartment right now. With a landlord. Who you call when stuff smells real bad, leaks, or is broken.
But, after 24 hours, we're in a much better place.
We have amazing families who came to help.
We know better than to keep our good stuff vulnerable in the basement.
Our basement isn't finished, so the carpet that's down is fixable.
Did I mention our amazing families?
Not to mention my POWER HOUSE husband.
Seriously - is there anything sexier than a man with a mop?
There's still about 200% humidity in our house and hotter than you-know-where.
But I'm calling it quits.
After two hours at the laundromat, I feel like Charlie looks:
Friday, June 19, 2009
Just a cool thing
Bathtub IV from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.
©2009 COPYRIGHT - All Rights reserved
Project info @ vimeo.com/channels/keithloutitssydney
This film is 100% 'real', but there are some new techniques for me here, such as using time lapse to create the illusion of forward movement for the helicopter ocean scenes. These flight sequences would not be possible without the skill and patience of Chief Pilot Peter Yates. Thanks also to Trevor Cracknell (for getting wet!) and Family.
Music:
“CLEMENTINE” (Megan Washington)
Performed by Washington
© 2008 J Albert & Son Pty Limited
Used with permission
Artist Info @ keithloutit.com
Project info @ vimeo.com/channels/keithloutitssydney
Security
Thunder has always fascinated me.
There's no other sound I can think of that I experience on a regular basis that doesn't originate somewhere tangible.
Light, particles, electricity - that's cool, too. But really, when I think about light, I'm more dumbfounded by a lightbulb than by lightning. Guess I'm just used to bright stuff coming out of the sky.
But sound? Seriously. That's amazing.
One of the longest, most intense storms of my life blew through last night.
I didn't hear the storm at first, but Ben did.
I woke up to his fussing in the monitor, only to realize that it was thunder woke him.
I rocked him for a short bit, waiting for the storm to pass.
When it was clear it was going to be a long night, I brought him back to bed with me.
Laying there awake, watching the light display, I couldn't help but remember laying in between my parents on scary nights. The same clap of thunder that can feel like the end of the world in a room alone is nothing more than an annoyingly loud noise when you're nestled between the two most important people in your life. I remember praying that my dad would fall asleep before the storm ended so that I wouldn't have to go back to bed alone.
Last night for the first time, I got a glimpse of what it was like for them. With all our windows open (Oh, how I love June), the thunder was so loud and so sharp that with each clap, Ben would jolt up like a popcorn kernel exploding. He was so zonked that he never opened his eyes, but he would reach to touch my arm, or leg. As soon as he was sure of my presence, he settled back in.
When he was first born, I felt like a pregnant lady who gave birth. Not long after that, I became a mother - in the Hallmark sense of the word. You know, "You give so much and expect so little in return" kind of thing. I'm just now starting to feel like a mommy. By mommy I mean Ben's favorite person on earth. His security.
I'm here to tell you that's the best feeling in the world.
There's no other sound I can think of that I experience on a regular basis that doesn't originate somewhere tangible.
Light, particles, electricity - that's cool, too. But really, when I think about light, I'm more dumbfounded by a lightbulb than by lightning. Guess I'm just used to bright stuff coming out of the sky.
But sound? Seriously. That's amazing.
One of the longest, most intense storms of my life blew through last night.
I didn't hear the storm at first, but Ben did.
I woke up to his fussing in the monitor, only to realize that it was thunder woke him.
I rocked him for a short bit, waiting for the storm to pass.
When it was clear it was going to be a long night, I brought him back to bed with me.
Laying there awake, watching the light display, I couldn't help but remember laying in between my parents on scary nights. The same clap of thunder that can feel like the end of the world in a room alone is nothing more than an annoyingly loud noise when you're nestled between the two most important people in your life. I remember praying that my dad would fall asleep before the storm ended so that I wouldn't have to go back to bed alone.
Last night for the first time, I got a glimpse of what it was like for them. With all our windows open (Oh, how I love June), the thunder was so loud and so sharp that with each clap, Ben would jolt up like a popcorn kernel exploding. He was so zonked that he never opened his eyes, but he would reach to touch my arm, or leg. As soon as he was sure of my presence, he settled back in.
When he was first born, I felt like a pregnant lady who gave birth. Not long after that, I became a mother - in the Hallmark sense of the word. You know, "You give so much and expect so little in return" kind of thing. I'm just now starting to feel like a mommy. By mommy I mean Ben's favorite person on earth. His security.
I'm here to tell you that's the best feeling in the world.
Confirmed
I've always wondered what people are doing when they read my blog.
At least one of you is naked.
May the rest of you always wonder....
At least one of you is naked.
May the rest of you always wonder....
Monday, June 15, 2009
I Will Rise
I woke up with a heavy heart this morning.
Grief is a peculiar thing.
Empathetic grief even more so.
My commute to work on Mondays is about 4 minutes.
I rarely hear an entire song, news story, or DJ conversation.
This morning, however, as I buckled my seat belt, Chris Tomlin's "I Will Rise" came on.
I've heard this song countless times. But today, I couldn't help but tune in.
My heart is glad I did.
There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"
Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes
Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
And I hear the voice of many angels sing,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
Grief is a peculiar thing.
Empathetic grief even more so.
My commute to work on Mondays is about 4 minutes.
I rarely hear an entire song, news story, or DJ conversation.
This morning, however, as I buckled my seat belt, Chris Tomlin's "I Will Rise" came on.
I've heard this song countless times. But today, I couldn't help but tune in.
My heart is glad I did.
There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"
Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes
Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
And I hear the voice of many angels sing,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Joy & sorrow
Life is just never what you expect it to be.
I spent all day preparing for, traveling to, attending, wasting time prior to reception, celebrating, and coming home from a wedding where someone I know quite well married someone I know not at all.
It's the happiest day of their life.
I thought about blogging about that a bit more.
But now it's late.
We're home and decompressing a bit.
We heard tragic news this morning.
One of the teens that Keith used to mentor was killed in a car accident last night.
It's still sinking in a bit.
Thank God that he was a man of real faith.
That blessed assurance does not help make sense of any of it, however.
In a darkened living room, with my party dress in the hamper and my bathrobe tied tight, I danced to Our Song with my husband and we cried.
For Nathan.
For dreams lost.
For fear that it should ever come any closer to home than it already has.
For guilt at the relief that it hasn't.
But mostly for the sorrow we feel for his family.
I spent all day preparing for, traveling to, attending, wasting time prior to reception, celebrating, and coming home from a wedding where someone I know quite well married someone I know not at all.
It's the happiest day of their life.
I thought about blogging about that a bit more.
But now it's late.
We're home and decompressing a bit.
We heard tragic news this morning.
One of the teens that Keith used to mentor was killed in a car accident last night.
It's still sinking in a bit.
Thank God that he was a man of real faith.
That blessed assurance does not help make sense of any of it, however.
In a darkened living room, with my party dress in the hamper and my bathrobe tied tight, I danced to Our Song with my husband and we cried.
For Nathan.
For dreams lost.
For fear that it should ever come any closer to home than it already has.
For guilt at the relief that it hasn't.
But mostly for the sorrow we feel for his family.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
exposed
I'm no athlete.
Even if I was, I think I'd still have issues with the locker room.
The closest I come to getting naked in public was camp - where I perfected the art of changing clothes without ever being naked.
But that's impossible in a swim suit.
Therefore, when swimming, I dress (and undress) at home.
And no - giving birth does not need to forever hinder one's modesty.
So there I was - the Aquatic Center. Ben's first night in a pool. Pretty exciting stuff.
We were just arriving, still in the parking lot, getting Ben out of the car seat and a woman noticed his cuteness and stopped to say a friendly hi.
When I entered the locker room, I saw her again, out of the corner of my eye. She was undressing. So I stopped myself from the impulse to turn and say hi again - she was really very friendly.
Instead, my inner dialogue went something like:
Oh boy - I hate locker rooms. Don't panic! Divert the eyes. Where is the bloody changing table?! Why is it in her area? Oh yes - I can have my back to her.
I got Ben settled in nicely on the changing table and got to work. It didn't take him long to figure out how cool his voice sounded in the echoey room. So he started jabbering (aka YELLING) up a storm.
I was talking to him and laughing.
From behind me I heard, "He's so cute - how old is he?"
I turned around thinking "If she's initiating conversation, she must be dressed."
You can guess how wrong I was.
So there I am, one hand on naked, squirming, yelling happily Ben - while my body is half turned towards an aging 100% naked woman -and my eyes are darting around like a pinball machine.
What's the polite thing to do here?
Turn your back to her?
Face her. All of her?
I settled on locking in on the most intense eye contact of my life.
She made some other comments about Ben. Or babies. Or the economy. I have no idea.
I smiled, nodded, and turned back around - never happier to wipe Ben's butt cheeks in my life.
Even if I was, I think I'd still have issues with the locker room.
The closest I come to getting naked in public was camp - where I perfected the art of changing clothes without ever being naked.
But that's impossible in a swim suit.
Therefore, when swimming, I dress (and undress) at home.
And no - giving birth does not need to forever hinder one's modesty.
So there I was - the Aquatic Center. Ben's first night in a pool. Pretty exciting stuff.
We were just arriving, still in the parking lot, getting Ben out of the car seat and a woman noticed his cuteness and stopped to say a friendly hi.
When I entered the locker room, I saw her again, out of the corner of my eye. She was undressing. So I stopped myself from the impulse to turn and say hi again - she was really very friendly.
Instead, my inner dialogue went something like:
Oh boy - I hate locker rooms. Don't panic! Divert the eyes. Where is the bloody changing table?! Why is it in her area? Oh yes - I can have my back to her.
I got Ben settled in nicely on the changing table and got to work. It didn't take him long to figure out how cool his voice sounded in the echoey room. So he started jabbering (aka YELLING) up a storm.
I was talking to him and laughing.
From behind me I heard, "He's so cute - how old is he?"
I turned around thinking "If she's initiating conversation, she must be dressed."
You can guess how wrong I was.
So there I am, one hand on naked, squirming, yelling happily Ben - while my body is half turned towards an aging 100% naked woman -and my eyes are darting around like a pinball machine.
What's the polite thing to do here?
Turn your back to her?
Face her. All of her?
I settled on locking in on the most intense eye contact of my life.
She made some other comments about Ben. Or babies. Or the economy. I have no idea.
I smiled, nodded, and turned back around - never happier to wipe Ben's butt cheeks in my life.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Communion Prayer
One of the greatest blessings about my membership at Madison is the opportunity, responsibility, and privilege to serve communion alongside my husband. Our church offers communion once a month and we have 6 stations where people can approach for the elements. Accepting communion practices in the Reformed tradition has been a challenge for my Lutheran Raised Self to deal with ever since Freshmen year of college at Hope.
I'm here to tell you, 11 years later, I love both traditions. And I truly think they both get some things right and some things a little less right.
But that's neither here nor there.
Yesterday was Communion Sunday.
Yesterday, I got to look into the eyes of about 100 brothers and sisters and tell them Christ's body was broken for them. For the forgiveness of their sins. Then I got to offer them a plate and see them accept it. Accept Him. Accept forgiveness.
Lots of people come with eyes sparkling with tears. Sometimes I join them. Other people get uncomfortable with the 1:1 eye contact. I don't (anymore).
When people approach so clearly broken and hurting, I pray that by participating in communion, some of their hurt is lessened. Often, the faces of those who are really hurting stay with me during the week and I continue to pray for their nameless hurts.
Today, I'm praying for a woman who's hungry.
And I'm not talking about being hungry in the spiritual sense.
This woman's stomach was empty. I can only guess her cupboards were, too.
I looked for her after the service, eager to invite her to join us for breakfast.
I didn't find her.
I know that the four cubes of bread she asked for at communion did not satisfy her physical needs.
Today, I just cannot shake her face from my mind.
Feed her, Lord.
I'm here to tell you, 11 years later, I love both traditions. And I truly think they both get some things right and some things a little less right.
But that's neither here nor there.
Yesterday was Communion Sunday.
Yesterday, I got to look into the eyes of about 100 brothers and sisters and tell them Christ's body was broken for them. For the forgiveness of their sins. Then I got to offer them a plate and see them accept it. Accept Him. Accept forgiveness.
Lots of people come with eyes sparkling with tears. Sometimes I join them. Other people get uncomfortable with the 1:1 eye contact. I don't (anymore).
When people approach so clearly broken and hurting, I pray that by participating in communion, some of their hurt is lessened. Often, the faces of those who are really hurting stay with me during the week and I continue to pray for their nameless hurts.
Today, I'm praying for a woman who's hungry.
And I'm not talking about being hungry in the spiritual sense.
This woman's stomach was empty. I can only guess her cupboards were, too.
I looked for her after the service, eager to invite her to join us for breakfast.
I didn't find her.
I know that the four cubes of bread she asked for at communion did not satisfy her physical needs.
Today, I just cannot shake her face from my mind.
Feed her, Lord.
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