10-Minute Life Update

Disclaimer: this is a stream-of-consciousness post, so go with the flow :)

I am perfectly aware that my blog looks horrible right now. I just don't have the energy to try to make it look all fancy for you, dear reader, when an afternoon nap is calling my name.

That is the perfect synecdoche for where I am right now, as a matter of fact. I know there are things in my life that could be better - isn't there always? - and yet I have to content myself with less-than-best because there isn't enough of me to do everything perfectly.

This is a hard thing for a perfectionist. Parenting has been really sanctifying in this way (a common refrain on this blog, I know). The  moment things start to look out of control - and between a 3 1/2 year old and a 1 1/2 year old, it happens a lot - I feel that I have failed to fulfill my mission, the mission of perfection. It's debilitating. I am glad that God has graciously given me a self-analytical mind so that I can see this, and even laugh at it on my good days.

Speaking of laughter, one thing I'm slowly, slowly learning right now is how to laugh at myself and at situations. For all that I have a goofy side, I tend to take most things pretty seriously. It's why I'm good at listening and sympathizing, but bad at seeing the bright side of things and letting stuff go. You may guess that my husband is the more serious one between the two of us...but you would be wrong. He's the one that inspires me to choose laughter when faced with the choice between laughing and crying. He's the optimist in this relationship. I'm thankful for him!

It's strange that this July marks SEVEN years of marriage to Chris. Now that Facebook has the time-hoppy feature where you can look back on memories, I've been able to see several posts that occurred before I was dating Chris, or before I had even met him. In some ways I'm definitely who I was before (change comes hard), but in some ways my heart has been significantly transformed. It makes me contemplate the fruitlessness of comparing today to yesterday. It's like comparing an apple to a grenade. Or something.

Well, that's the sign that I should get off of here and take my nap...

Sayonara, dear reader!

Beautiful | Crazy

Can't sleep for thinking again.

I have concluded that I have a weak mind (Jedi mind tricks would work on me - after all, I'm not a Toydarian! There's a nice little Easter egg for you Star Wars punks out there).

Ahem. As I was saying, I have concluded that I have a weak mind. I think I am more easily overwhelmed than the average person. Having experienced clinical depression, I know I am biologically predisposed to mental illness. Also, I recognize that my coping mechanisms are often flimsier than others', and I reach what I call "crisis point" sooner than many. And yet, where this knowledge would've once discouraged me, it is now, by the grace of God, nothing more than a neutral set of facts.

For I know that my weak mind is not me. Look at it this way: if I were suddenly diagnosed with cancer, the cancer would be an outworking of an imperfect body born into a sinful world. You would not say it was a result of me, though, would you? Jaimie with cancer would still be...Jaimie. My skills, traits, quirks - they'd all still be there. My personality, soul and spirit would be in tact, too. In the same way, my weak and broken mind is an outworking of an imperfect body in a sinful world. Jaimie with a broken mind is still Jaimie. Therefore I have great hope.

One day, when Christ brings about the new heaven and the new earth, there will be neither physical sickness nor mental sickness. The infirmity of the mind as well as the body will be washed away in the perfection that comes in being fully immersed in Christ's presence.

That's not to say that our "true essence" is separate from our body. Accepting that would be bowing to Platonic dualism - a fallacy that can easily lead to the belief that the body isn't important. Indeed, we are both spiritual and physical creatures. The two cannot be separated without removing something that is inherently part of who God made us to be. Otherwise, why does the Bible say we will have actual, resurrected bodies one day? Why would we want or need them?

All this to say that I'm glad that the Lord has worked in my heart over so many years to show me that I am not the sum of my defects. Indeed, I am a child of God's image - no small thing! I just haven't seen just what that looks like, yet.

These thoughts pour from my heart after an evening when a thousand stresses crashed home, and my husband was there to catch me and hold me and listen to me, and my God was there to give me the light and joy and strength that comes from hope and truth. So, I overflow with thankfulness in all of this, because God is good, has been good to me, and will ever continue to be!

From Inside My Lil' Cocoon

The last time someone asked me how my novel was going, I answered without thinking, "Somebody needs to die." What I meant was, I needed to kill off a character in my novel that I hadn't killed in the first draft. Well, that person is dead, so now I can blog in peace.

Is it strange that I enjoy killing off characters in my novel? The other scene I distinctly enjoyed was a breakup scene. I've since psychoanalyzed myself and decided I simply like having control over "people's" lives. The control I have as an author over my novel makes me feel a little more in control of my microcosm, makes my head feel a bit more organized, my thoughts more linear (because let's face it - my thoughts resemble an O-ball way more often than they do a line).

This is an O-ball, by the way.

I learned my lesson from last time I tried to write in Starbucks. This time, I brought ear plugs. Unfortunately, I can still hear the atrocious music, but conversation is all muffled, so no more discussions about how my feet don't reach the floor.

Something about this cocoon of silence is incredibly comforting. Yet another example of my introversion. Not being able to tune in to the words of other people - even as much as I like people-watching - makes me feel secure and alone. And alone time is what I need right now, despite the fact I am writing a post for public consumption.

But you know, in the end, I write not for the public, but because I like to.

It's good to be out of the apartment. I'm so thankful for the time that Chris gives me to write every Monday and Tuesday evening. Little Ellie is going through some kind of developmental leap and it's temporarily made her a pill. She requires constant attention, and things that usually make her happy only do so for a few minutes before she decides she's upset again. I love her, and I definitely miss her after a few hours away from her, but I'm glad for the break.

We just got back from a trip to Colorado Springs - Ellie's first plane ride! She actually enjoyed the airport, I think. She stared at all the people with great interest (takes after her momma). It was downright cool there, even cold at night. What a beautiful place. Sometimes I forget what naturally lovely places there are in the States because I'm Texas born and bred and Oklahoma schooled. Not that TX and OK don't have their own beauties, but let's face it - just like Robert Downey, Jr. is more handsome than David Crowder, as a whole, Colorado is prettier than Oklahoma and Texas.

Thoughts from a First-Time Harry Potter Reader

Well, folks, the title is just what it sounds. I've never read Harry Potter before! Please, hold back your collective gasp! I'm a poser bibliophile is what I am, apparently. Instead of shunning me from your hearts and minds forever, though, perhaps you'd like to hear a few of my thoughts first?

Books vs. Movies

I'm not far into The Sorcerer's Stone yet. In fact, Harry has only just learned of his past from Hagrid, since those darn Dursleys (just thinking about them makes my blood pressure rise) failed to inform him that he is a wizard. 

However, one thing is eminently clear - the Harry Potter movies are incapable of creating proper pathos for Harry.

[Pathos (n) - an emotion of sympathetic pity]

Surprisingly, since I sometimes sport the memory of a goldfish, I remember the first time I watched The Sorcerer's Stone. I recall that the Dursleys were annoying, and that Dudley was ugly. Honestly, though, the only thing I remember about Harry Potter is that he was smiling gleefully when his letters from Hogwarts came pouring through the fireplace. I had no sense of compassion or hurt for the fact that he was basically being abused by his family. 

Reading the book, on the other hand, makes me want to cry for the kid. Shut up in the cupboard under the stairs, thinking a good day is a trip to the zoo where he is practically ignored...awful stuff. 

You might be thinking, "The books is always better than the movie." While I cannot substantiate that statement, based on the principle delineated in the following scene in Napoleon Dynamite...

Napoleon: This is pretty much the worst video ever made.

Kip: Napoleon, like any one can even know that.

...I can say that I already see how seriously lacking my conception of HP characters is having only seen the movies. Some movies are able to communicate a depth of character that does the book some justice, but the HP series probably isn't among them. The story may be much too complex for that, or the movie making just not quite thoughtful enough.

I'll read on, and we shall see!

Read This, You Button Face

I've neglected you, folks. It probably feels much longer than it's actually been since I've blogged, as I stop both reading blogs and writing on my own when I go through one of these uninspired periods.

I've been inspired in non-blog writing lately, though, so I've been working on my novel and a new, humorous short story. This gives me a break from the almost-60,000 words (phew!) that I've completed on the still-untitled fantasy work.

The last few days have been rough for me. On bad days, I find it difficult to do almost anything, including the things I generally enjoy doing. However, it's going to be okay. This is a fact that I couldn't grasp before, but the fact that I now know hope flowing in my heart assures me that God is continuously healing me, no matter how slowly I feel like he's doing it. My husband is, of course, taking good care of me. Especially when I am able to let go of my pride and fear enough to ask for help...

Chris, myself, and our good friend Stephen (who writes the blog Gospelized) are heading to Colorado Springs this Monday to spend time with family for Thanksgiving. I'm greatly excited. Want to know the best part of the story? I forgot that my Thanksgiving break actually doesn't begin until Wednesday. I am one of those kids who never, ever misses class, so that's why it's funny to me. I guess it probably wasn't funny to you. Oh, well.

Apparently, the fact that I'm on the internet is causing Chris's HALO game to lag. Someone just killed him, and Chris proceeded to call the uncouth scoundrel a "button face." These are the common "expletives" that you will hear within in the Krycho household. I like to tell the story about the time I was on the road and yelled to a frustrating driver, "What are you doing, you...bumblebee?!"

Yummm. Warm, homemade Nestle toll house cookies are baking, sweetening the air with their thick, chocolate-laden scent and warming my hands and toes with the heat from the oven where they are pleasantly housed. These grey autumnal days, while often bad for the mood, can be good for the heart when such things are in the mix!

And now, my response to something Chris just said to me: "I like killing people after it ends." I'll leave  you to try to figure out what the heck I was talking about. And for those of you who know the inside joke, the answer is not bounty hunters. Which are only legal in the U.S. and the Philippines, by the way -- the two countries of my immediate ethnic background.

Spaghetti Brain

Alas, but there's not much in my head right now.

I am engaged in a brief stint of being slightly annoyed with the world, but that will soon pass, I hope. Mostly, I get annoyed with the world when I'm annoyed with myself and not exactly sure why I am. Usually it has something to do with the idea that I should have accomplished something that I haven't. And that's the best explanation I can give you.

I was once told that men's brains are like waffles and women's are like spaghetti. Men can keep various issues in various compartments, like syrup in those little tiny squares. Women have everything all tangled up, sauce, noodles, mushrooms, meatballs and all.

Okay, I lied. There is something in my head right now: lots and lots of spaghetti.

The Biggest Mistake

Looking back, one of the biggest mistakes I made in my life was trying not to make any mistakes.

---

Episode IV of the Krychocosm coming soon.

I finished sweeping the floor; time to sweep up some lies?

It's strange to me that my earliest class during the week is 11:30, and today, I don't even have one until 1:30. This leaves me much time for pondering what to do with my time.

Huzzah!

There are always more things that can be done. I have this fantastic ability to note those particular things, and to beat myself up if I can't think of activities other than non-work or non-ministry related ones. For me, these usually are: reading, writing, HALO, going on walks, having people over and talking with my husband. I fear that if I do these for any length of time, I might be squandering my life.

I am discouraged by that thought. Then, I remember that God is a God of joy and inner peace. There is hard and tiring work to be done, and He provides grace for us as we do it (both preparation and execution). However, I believe there is a tiredness of God and tiredness of the flesh. I cannot ignore that God has said "His yoke is easy and His burden is light," as well as that "His commands are not burdensome."

Not burdensome does not mean not difficult. I think we can agree that a Christian life comes with spiritual, emotional and physical difficulty. However, for my part, I do a heart check when I merely feel saddled by myriad good projects I "have to" do for God.

No matter how many "good things" I'm doing, they aren't good if they are done merely to tick the checklist of guiltless self-fulfillment, or to earn God's love and pleasure.

I think that absolutely everything we do is means of glorifying God, even reading, writing, HALO...you get the picture!

What does that glorification look like, specifically? I suspect it is a position of the heart, and not something I can achieve by striving and striving.

Shoot me your thoughts.

-Jaimie

The Weight of Disappointment

Folks, do you remember my previous post about babies? If you don't, take a look-see.

Wonderful. Thank you!

I'm writing to announce...that I am NOT pregnant. And, oddly enough, I've been devastated all morning and afternoon.

When I wrote the baby post, I obviously wasn't going to voice my suspicions that the pregnancy guess might be an accurate one. To make a long story short, I experienced a string of potential pregnancy symptoms this week that had me, in my idealistic fervor, believing there was a little baby inside. Chris and I waited out the week: he kept back his own opinion so as to not intensify my already-confused emotions.

Ah, emotions. This week has been filled with moments of terror juxtaposed with moments of high excitement.

I repeatedly told myself I wouldn't think about the possibility of a baby, especially since it would overthrow all our plans and freak out my family. However, my thinking about not thinking about it just made me think about it.

I can't describe the emotions wrapped up in the idea. I kept telling my husband that "I don't know how to feel." Parenthood is a hugely serious thing, and at the moment when I put my hand on my tummy and said, laughingly, "Are you in there?" the implications began to hit me at full speed, and I summarily stopped laughing. I was caught in the netherworld between joyous hope and debilitating fear.

A week of confusion, ending with the conclusion I subconsciously expected in the first place. I shed a lot of tears today.

I feel silly, but at the same time I know that this feeling of mourning, if you will, is somehow legitimate.

I'm writing to empty my mind of the secret that has been wanting to burst out for seven days.

I'm at peace, now, because God is faithful and good. I realize He understands emotion--truly "called for" or not--and comforts well. He is a great listener! I can only hope and pray that this experience pours greater faith into me. The sadness will probably return in some degree, I know, but I consider this another chip off my barrier to surrender. Which, as all will agree in the end, is entirely worth the disappointment.

You didn't even know it was there...

Good day, dear reader. Well, my last final is this afternoon, so I'm sprinting to freedom with a silly grin on my face...while flipping frantically through A History of the Ancient Near East and memorizing the names of Old Kingdom pharaohs.

Except for when I'm on the computer, of course.

I came upon something striking this morning in a Psalm that I've read several times before. In Psalm 19, David opens by extolling the glory of God, and then the goodness of his law. After listing how amazing the Word in five verses, he closes with a sort-of introspection:

Who can discern his errors? Declare me innocent from hidden faults. Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me! [note: I like the exclamation point here!] Then I shall be blameless, and innocent of great transgression.

Easy for you to say, David. How do you plan to go about doing that?

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

David is praying for something he's not entirely aware of. Of course he doesn't know his hidden faults: they're hidden! Yet, the psalmist desires to be "blameless." This is not for personal fulfillment but for the glory of God spoken about at the opening of the psalm. "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight" [emphasis mine].

How does David confront sins he didn't know were there? He appeals to God.

This challenges me to make a higher standard for myself in my speech and thoughts; I don't want them to merely be permissible, but "acceptable!" More importantly, I want to depend on God to sanctify me here. This is a personal conviction, so let the Lord speak to you through this passage as He will.

I agree with David when he says in verse eight that "the precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart!"

Celebrate the coming of our Lord this holiday! Have safe travel and a restful vacation!

Dry Spell

I hate dry spells.

Maybe God is trying to show me that I cannot conjure wisdom or understanding; He is the great Teacher.

I always try to derive the "lesson" that I'm "supposed to learn" from God when life happens, and I mean always. Unsurprisingly, I hit a wall when I can't even hypothesize the lesson because the situation seems so pointless.

Right now, inspiration isn't coming easy. By inspiration, I think I mean that feeling of spirituality that often accompanies a personal insight or revelation. While I objectively recognize what a good thing this is--my relationship with God cannot and must not be based upon feelings--I still hate dry spells!

God, give me the patience to walk through this period, and the grace to sit at your feet and know you more, no matter what I think or how I feel.

Writer's High and Other Things

I'm currently working on a short story for intro to professional writing, and oh, do I love it! It's supposed to be 2,000 words, but I'm about to spill over that already.

There is something very exciting and refreshing about writing someone else's world. I find myself lost in the world as I write. Though I will forever insist I'm not trying to exist through the people I create, I can't help but do that, sometimes. I grow so immersed in the colors and voices and places.

The project? A sort-of commentary on reaching womanhood and right vs. wrong. Stay tuned.

---

How was your Thanksgiving? Excellent, I hope. My mom spoiled me to pieces while I was visiting my family in Fort Worth. She bought me a box of Godiva dark chocolates, as she did last year, which I plan to eat one at a time every morning until Christmas. It's like an Advent calendar...minus recognition of Advent. And the calendar.

Chris and I purchased our first Christmas tree, which is terribly exciting to my ever-present inner child. Though it is only 4 1/2 feet tall, I am happy because that guarantees my ability to put ornaments at the top.

---

Today, my professor told us, "You're twenty! You've been alive politically for, like, five seconds."

Lol, professor. Lol.

That's all I got. More steak and less popcorn at a later date, but maybe not until after finals are over...

Contemplations in Brief

Hi, guys. It seems I've been a bit out of commission of late. I'm sure I have more to write about than I feel like I do, but I'll just give you the skinny and let you enjoy not having to read too chunky of paragraphs.

Marriage.

Marriage just so happens to rock. I don't know how much strength I'd have left right now--spiritually, emotionally, even physically--without a strong arm to hold onto while walking, a tender hand to give me a surprise bouquet of pink roses. My husband is a source of strength; while I know I cannot depend on him like I can the perfect power of Christ, I also know that he is an earthly picture of Christ's amazing love.

Here's to you, husband.

College.

Well, I haven't wanted to pull my hair out at all, this semester. I'd say that's a good sign this is my best one yet. I love my classes--except for when I don't--and find my classmates to be the most intriguing bunch I've ever shared excessively shallow or painfully erudite conversation with.

Holidays.

Blast. Chris just asked me for Christmas ideas, and I think my eye is now twitching a bit. I'm afraid of accumulating too much stuff, but then there are things I want. Should I be less materialistic and do without the desires, asking for more practical gifts (socks and underwear are now out of the question, Mom and Dad!)? How should Chris and I buy for two families? Who expects what? Should I even be deliberating about this?

I shake my fist at you, complicated holiday culture! Christmas has already crept up on us though Thanksgiving's not yet arrived!

That's that. More profound thoughts later, when I'm in commission again. I hope that's soon.

Me: A Paradox, or Just a Person?

Sometimes being yourself feels a whole lot like making a fool of yourself, you know?

I just came from my Intro to Professional Writing class, where, after awhile, you just can't help but let your true personality come through. That class is strange to me, because I enjoy it so much; however, I constantly get the feeling that I come off a little weird to my peers.

Okay, I am a little weird, but I stumble over myself much more in this class than, say, the class where we're reading and discussing Plato, Machiavelli, Erasmus. Although it's an hour of sheer discussion, I'm not unsure of myself at all. I've never been more (openly) opinionated than I am there. I always go home afterward feeling energized, feeling that I've connected with my classmates on more than a surface level, even after we've intellectually duked it out. And I don't even like duking it out; at least, I didn't use to!

It seems to me that the abstract realm is my "turf." I feel a bit boring at times, because of that, especially when I hear my professional writing classmates delineating their hobbies: Attending concerts, traveling, or--though it is not a lifestyle I would ask for--partying. My hobbies, at the moment? Writing, reading, Church activities, baking. Passive? I guess. The true me? I don't know. I can't say yes, because deep inside, I'm not passive, and I don't want to be.

I don't think any of these particular, mellow interests preclude the inherent desire that we, as humans, have for adventure. I dream of not staying put, not fulfilling the typical American Dream, seeing God change lives through me, momentously and for His glory, wherever He puts Chris and me.

The tension between my quiet side and my free spirit confuses me.
I already know I'm confusing (I'm a woman :p), but am I a complete paradox?

Hopeful, Not Hoodwinked

It's fall, and the whole world breathes in a little more deeply.

U2 is at OU, and the whole campus breathes in a little more coolness. Not least because there's a funky green stage in our stadium.

---

Philippians 4:8-9, which Bruce preached on today (and which my very cool husband blogged about), was a balm for the wounds of my raw cynicism that I told you about in the last post:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

This doesn't mean making Olsteen proud with your-best-life-now optimism; "practicing these things" won't make problems just go away. However, a right (and I do mean right, since it's Biblical) perspective is, at the least, effective counter-cynicism.

Right perspective or focus is of the essence. Of course there are things that I can balk and despair at daily; we live in a nasty, fallen world. I'm sure Paul knew that when he wrote Philippians (he certainly did in 2 Corinthians 1:8-9, where he says "we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself"). However, we are instructed to think differently than how our natural tendencies would lead us.

There's a good reason for all that is written in the Word.

Thank you, Lord, that "your word is truth" (John 17:17), and your truth is encouragement beyond any pep-talks I could ever give myself!

---

P.S. I think I may have a food allergy. I will assume the fetal position for several weeks if it ends us being either lactose or gluten. More on that, later!

Feelings: Take once nightly with grain of salt.

It's way past my bedtime; I took melatonin (not a drug, in case you don't feel like looking it up), but I still can't sleep.

My stomach has been in tumult for an hour straight and is just now settling, and it is, apparently, indirectly correlated with my brain. Meaning, my brain refuses to settle down now.

It has been the most bizarre of weeks. Both Chris and I were sick and relegated to the apartment for too long, and are trying not to be dumb and relapse because we're both so keyed up that we can resume normal life again. Health is quite underrated!

My car (La Bamba) was crunched from behind--and possibly totaled--on date night, on an innocuous trip to pick up a pizza. Dang pizza. Sure was tasty, though!

And, as you may expect at almost 1 a.m., my already-fractious thoughts are in even smaller shards, many and confusing. I want to wake Chris up, but I would feel awful doing so without a reason except for want of the company. It's at times like these where I realize, with full force, that I possess zero control over my life.

Things happen; life happens. It doesn't stop for me. It leaves me behind.

I question what I know to be true as I rifle through the week's confusion; I totter on the edge of doubt and fear. I remind myself, as if reciting a mantra, that God is sovereign. I try to lie back and know it.

I'll sleep now. I remember, from middle and high school, that spinning deep thoughts during the hours that emotion deposes reason can be quite unproductive. Besides, I did say I wanted company, and I'm pretty sure Chris isn't getting up for at least five more hours. I'm think I can find some shut-eye in there, somewhere! :)