Wednesday, July 13, 2016

I'm a sinner

From one day to the next everything can change...everything can be made new again. I have recently gotten a glimpse into just how desperately I need Jesus. Too many days have passed where I feel that I am not "good" enough for God, so why even bother. How could God love me when I screw up every single day? When I continue to hurt those around me and can't change my ways; I continue downward until all I see is myself...standing in my pitiful pile of shit. I have nothing left and I'm drowning.. It is in these moments I have a choice. To turn to God who does in fact love me or wallow in all the ways I fall short. I am writing this blog today to share a little bit of myself and how God has changed me and continues to do so, so that it will bring glory to Him and perhaps it will speak to you in some way. The truth is, I am a sinner. Every one is. We all fall short of the glory of God because He is God. Whether you believe that or not is totally your opinion and I don't judge you if you think differently. It's your journey and your life. I'm simply going to share my thoughts and opinions on the matter. It's been awhile since I've reflected on this. I didn't want to look in the mirror because I didn't like who I was or who I had become. I've made many mistakes in my life, some grave and some of a smaller scale like eating a whole bag of peanut M&M's to comfort my feelings. All that did was give me a yeasty feeling in my bowels. Whether big or small, I've made mistakes. Who hasn't? All this to say...there comes a point in our lives where we have to look at ourselves and who we are and ask ourself the question, "who have I become and who do I want to become?" in other words, "who am I?" My decisions and choices I have made in my life have shaped me in many ways. My choice to get married has brought me through a journey of laughter and joy as well as hardship and pain, with a wonderful man who hasn't let me go even though I've hurt him in many ways. It's caused me to reflect on who I am and realize I can't be selfish and do whatever I want when there is someone else who I could consider. Our circumstances and our environment has also shaped us, but it's important to remember it's our decisions within our circumstance that really define us and make us who we are. I believe God uses difficult circumstances to show us our need for Him. It's what he does best, bring beauty from the ashes. A common misconception today is that the horrible things that happen in life are meaningless. That there is no reason for suffering or dying. That God could has not allowed bad things to happen could he? Isn't he a God of love? I believe that He is a God of love, and He absolutely allows for bad things to happen to us to show us our need for Him, because He loves us and wants to be close to us. This life is hard and there is no way around it. Read the news to find massacres of all kinds and people dying at the hands of other people. Grab a magazine to remind yourself how you don't live up to the worlds version of what a woman's "beauty" is. Look at America and how divided it is by racism, religion and politics. Look at how people are starving to death, or being traded as sex slaves and raped over and over. Look at your own life and circumstances and that might be enough to tell you how hard life is. It's endless. This world is broken. What is left? Is there hope? Is there truth in a world that says whatever YOU believe to be true is in fact truth. If there is no truth, what hope have we? Someone's truth might tell him he deems it perfectly OK to murder someone. Does that make it truth or good? Where does it end? As I'm not going to dive deeply into this theology of truth I am simply wanted to share it because it ties hand in hand with what I've been experiencing lately. Going back to...I am a sinner. Everyday in Germany has been a struggle. I'm not going to lie. From our neighbor throwing cat poop over our fence because he's mad, to people staring and laughing at me in restaurants because I'm speaking english, it's been interesting. Just that, interesting. I am not being persecuted or tortured so my circumstances are mild at that in comparison to what others are going through. So don't for one second feel sorry for me. Just bear with me. I'm constantly reminded that I am a foreigner, trying to fit in. Trying to be as German as I can so no one will notice I am from a place that has possibly the two worst presidential candidates that a country could conjure up. Sometimes the things that happen are comical, but sometimes they really really hurt. Goes to say I can't imagine being a refugee in this country or any other country for that matter. Next time you have an encounter with a foreigner or a refugee, please extend to them all the courtesy and love your heart can gather. They are hurting. They miss their family, their life, their friends, their food. If you are one of those people who are angry about the refugees coming to "your" area. You're a little jerk. You're just. A jerk. So stop it. Anyway, back to me being a sinner. For the past few years, I've been wallowing. Hard core feeling sorry for myself. Just recently I've decided that I'm done. I'm making a choice. I don't "feel" like changing. Nope. I want to justify every single one of childish fits because I'm hurting and I'm in a foreign country and I have no friends and my marriage is hard and I'm not a good mother or musician and blah blah blah. There are a million lies I start believing. But shimmering from behind all of those lies is truth. I'm sure there are some mothers here who think I'm not a good mother, especially when I don't make Elliott wear socks all the time. That's their truth. Does that make it true? There are some people who think pursuing a career in music is pointless and trivial. Does that make it true? It's their truth. So where does real truth come into play? From God. From His word. From His love. From the fact that He sees me as perfectly redeemed through His son. He always has. As soon as I claimed Him, I was sealed in Him. It was my choice to stray for a bit. God never left me or stopped loving me. He is always there, never changing and always GOOD no matter how many times I screw up. I will continue to fail, to sin, to fall short, and to stray sometimes, but the difference is I'm realizing that it's my choice to believe truth and not lies. To believe it's only what God says about me that's true. So, I know my words may be rubbish to those who don't believe in God. That's ok. I am here today saying that I am a proud child of God and there is no other place I would rather be. If God uses my words in your life somehow, it was worth the read, maybe. Know that if the world is falling apart around you and your lost and confused, you have a God who loves you and wants to be your everything. That is love and that is truth.

Monday, February 1, 2016

Back again!

I heard recently that your seventh year of marriage is the hardest. Well, Christoph and I are currently in our seventh year of marriage and thought it would be a good idea to move back to Germany! We've always had the best timing for things. Most of you know we have taken another dramatic turn in our lives. For those of you who don't...we are indeed, moving back to Germany. I know. What? I can't really believe it myself. It hasn't really hit me yet. All I know is the past month I have once again been preparing our family for another move across the world. It seems like I have lost touch with my blog the last five years. There's something about living in the states that never made it as exciting to blog. Not that my life isn't exciting, just normal. It could also be the fact that my biggest adventures for the day are making a little trip to the grocery store, or going barre class at the gym and speaking english throughout it all. Yes, thrilling. Mostly, it's been the fact that trying to make time to blog with a child under five always felt overwhelming. On top of that - writing music, cleaning, making meals, preparing for a weekend full of doing hair, and playing shows here and there until 2 am. Goes to say, blogging has taken last priority the last five years and I've been totally fine with that. Now, it's time to start again, cuz things are about to get CRAZY!

Friday, June 21, 2013

Back from whence he came...

Here we are. Elliott and I. It may sound a bit crass, but Germany is where he was conceived. I think that's why he feels so at home here. He he. We had to leave the full blooded German at home this time though. Too much work. Providing for a family is more important i guess. None the less, Elliott and I have had a wonderful time here. When you take a step back from something, you are able to better access the surroundings, and take it all in. Oma and Opa have done more than enough to make us feel home these past four weeks, and our time with them has been priceless. Not to mention all of the cool Aunts and Uncle Elliott has here. Elliott seems to think this is his home now, apart form me telling him we are flying home on an airplane next week. He looks at me a bit confused and reply's. "Go fly on airplane! Go see MiMi and BopBop, Daddy, and Liam!" A week and a half had gone by and I awoke to a message on my computer saying, "Call me when you wake up, your dad is in the hospital with stroke like symptoms." I freaked out. Then after trying to explain the situation in German to my relatives, which was a calamity, I called home. Long story short, my dad said his goodbye's to me over Skype. I thought i would never see my dad again at that point. Never hear him ask me, "what is God doing in your life?" As a teenager, this was the last thing I wanted to be asked, but right then and there it was the only conversation I wanted to have. Miraculously he made it. Our whole church lifted him up in prayer. I prayed, but this time I felt a bit guilty. Here I had been living my life, most of the time not being thankful for the things He has given me. Now, when I needed something, i expected Him to let my father live. I felt selfish. But no matter how selfish I am, God decided to spare his life and I can go on telling my dad what God is doing in my life. It makes you think, when someone you care about is at risk. I know I have learned something form it. Live every day like it's your last. A week later I found out about the fires. What a world we live in. As soon as Elliott wakes up, we are off to the Algoey. The German alps. It feels good to write again.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Rusty writing, rusty nails

It seems like forever since I have posted a blog. Maybe because it has been forever. I love writing, and I don't know where the time has gone. It's unfortunate to have forgotten about this lost love of mine. Favorably I would prefer to drop something else in my life in order to have more time to write, but that is just not possible at this moment. If i could pick something it would probably be cleaning. God, Elliot and Christoph are the priorities in my life right now. It's hard to imagine what life was like without those three amazing guys. I don't want to. I feel like I am the most blessed woman in the world at this point in my life, and each day gets even better than the last. I often ask myself how life would be different had we stayed in Germany. I think it would be just that...different. We miss things about Germany, mostly family and friends we left there, but we know this is where we are and where we should be. I have learned so many things the past couple of years. I have learned that being a mother is not about being perfect, but rather willing to make mistakes. I have learned that being a wife is not about winning, but rather willing to look at how I need to change. I have learned that people don't like being asked so many questions about how they think their hair should look; just cut my hair already. I have learned that I know how to write and compose songs. I have learned that I am more selfish than I ever thought possible. I have learned that sleep is one of the most valuable things to a wife and mother. So, you see I have learned many things. But the most important thing I have recently learned is that if I am not willing to surrender my life to God, I cannot learn much. Alright, enough about me. I know what you really want to hear is what Elliott is up to these days. To put it bluntly he is up to a lot along with pooping, sleeping, and eating. By now I'm sure you assumed he is walking. Talking is getting there. He likes to say, "hot" and "light." I can pick up a few words that I am guessing are a mixture of English and German. Separating the two comes with time. I actually like the language he speaks right now. I think it should become a set language for people to learn, oh wait it is, it's called Dutch. No, really. I am pretty sure my son is fluent in Dutch right now. Daily our schedule is pretty non eventful. We wake, eat, play, sleep, eat again, play again, sleep again, poop, eat, play, sleep. That's our life right now, which I am thoroughly enjoying. By nights after Elliott is sleeping I am either hang in out with Christoph, working, recording music, or sleeping. It depends on the week. So, there is the best update I have time for right now. I have about fifteen minutes before elliott wakes, to clean the house, and then we will head off to get the second rusty nail this month patched on our tire. I love the tire place waiting room. It' s so cosy. Oh, and we are under contract on a new house. My dream house. It's lovely and I can't wait to move in!

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Runny noses and growling gremlins

Back from a long break at writing. I feel that coercing myself to write would be pointless, so I don't. I am sorry to those of you in far and away parts of the world who like to be updated on our ever so exciting life. To be honest, the reason I don't write anymore is just for that reason. Our life IS ever so exciting, and to find time for writing about it, would mean I would have to sacrifice those exciting moments. Some exciting moments of the week were.

1. An early start:
Elliott has recently decided that if his dad is going to be waking up at six to get ready for work, he is darn well going to spend some time with him before he leaves for a ten hour day. At first I was a little sad that sleeping in (until 7) was becoming less and less habitual, but later I realized how amazing it is to spend an hour together before we go our separate ways.
This past week Elliott and I have been sick, first started by daddy, who likes to bring home the germs from the outside world. This is the first time I have been sick while having a baby. It's hard. I can't imagine what it would be if you had multiple children, and everyone was sick. I consider myself lucky right now.
11pm-I awake to Elliott crying, and by crying I mean screaming. I rush to get him, not wanting his little throat to get more irritated than it already is. This is the 3rd time already he has awoken from his 7pm bedtime.
12pm- He awakens, and I feed him to calm him down
4pm- There was no more putting him down again. He was ready to be up and play. My darling husband joined the gang, as we had an early morning cup of tea. Honestly, I was on the verge of a breakdown at this point.
5pm- I rock Elliott to sleep, hoping his medicine will let him sleep a little longer.
6pm- Elliott is up and ready to play again. I was crying at this point, worried for my little guy and in dire need of sleep. Christoph so wonderfully called into work and said he would be late. I was able to get a bit more rest.

I am so blessed with such a wonderful husband who takes care of us, even when he works so hard each day. It took me of guard to be up so much in the night, and brought me back to when Elliott used to wake every couple hours in need of food when he was little. I am so proud of all of the wonderful mothers who sometimes have the hardest, yet most rewarding job in the world.
I would also like to thank God for creating coffee beans. I wouldn't be alive today, if it weren't for coffee beans.

In these moments, it is hard, and you ask yourself if you are really cut out to be doing what you are doing. The reality is, if life weren't sometimes hard, we wouldn't appreciate anything. I am so thankful for this life that God has given me, and every single moment I have with my family.

2. Elliott's little noises
As time goes on, Elliott is beginning to discover the ability to make sounds. The first sounds of his life including crying, and farting, but i am glad to say he discovers new one's everyday. Recently he has found his natural ability to growl. I believe he picked that up from a very naughty little girl we met, while waiting to get my last name changed at the social security office. Elliott was so excited to meet someone new, especially someone his size. They were eying each other for awhile before us mothers brought them together. This little girl was a bit older, by a few months, and had starting walking. Elliott just stood there, waiting to softly touch her face as she approached. Then, BAM! This little girl attacked Elliott like a football player tackling his opponent, growling like an evil gremlin, squeezing his sides, as he helplessly let out a little shriek. His face looked as though he was wondering, just what kind of creature was this. I quickly took Elliott in my arms, faking a smile and said, "Wow, she is excited."
I never know quite how to react in these situations, as I have never been in a situation such as this.
Goes to say, Elliott has picked up his own little growl, but the difference between his growl and hers, his sounds more like a cute puppy growl while hers was something not of this world.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

The Common Wedgie

Wedgies, have been a particularly special part of my life. When I was young, it was my older brothers more pestilent choice in provoking my sister and I to never want to wear underwear for fear of our daily wedgie.
We three were on most occasions a team, but when it came to showing our love, we were always experimenting on how annoying we had to be to make the other siblings go nuts. I remembered a few occasions walking down memory lane, feeling a bit nostalgic as my in-laws and I were discussing what the German word for "wedgie" was.

I believe that God made us all special and unique in our own way. Although, it is quite possible that God made my brother a little bit more unique than the rest of us. He always came up with, what he though were brilliant ideas, of how to antagonize his sisters, leaving us both baffled at the fact he so cleverly convinced us he was in the right.
My dog Abby, was at the time my best friend during my awkward and lonely days of being a home schooled elementary student. She could do me no wrong, and as far as I was concerned, she held my heart in her paws. My brother knew my loving affection for my dog Abby, and of coarse used it against me in any which way he could. I remember numerous times being pinned up against the wall, starring into the hands of my brother holding a wet and tightly wrung kitchen towel, after the dishes were wiped dry, and put away. I would try to escape, but his craftiness proved otherwise. There I was, holding my precious Abby in my arms, while my brother awaited his opportunity. Thoughtfully, he would first ask who it was that wanted the actual whipping. "Do you want Abby to get it tonight, or is it gonna be you, sister? Make a wise decision." Looking back I am amazed at the pure satisfaction I would get upon pleasing my brother. If he was happy, then everyone was. I didn't hesitate to answer in a whimpering frown, "I'll get the whipping brother." He would never hurt me past a dull welt, and all of his fun was kept within bordered realms of normal brotherly love. In fact, I am grateful for those fond memories. It certainly gives me something to talk about when a story is needed. One other noteworthy event involved me holding a thick magazine against a wall with my head, until my mother came home from the grocery store. It usually lasted a good hour, and if I let fall, that meant me having to tell my mother what I did wrong that day. Throwing something heavy, like a paper weight, at my brothers head would normally be what I had to admit to.

Just to let you know my brother is a wonderful person, and only teased us because we were his sisters. He is in fact one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I love you brother.

My in-laws and I continued laughing at what had just happened, vacationing in the beautiful Colorado mountain range. They are all German of coarse, and it often makes for extremely funny conversations, especially when a translation is lost. It was one of my many strange questions of what a certain word meant that had caused this hysterical event. My curiosity had come upon the word wedgie. "What does that mean in German?" I has asked my brother in-law, Dave. He replied "Ars frisst hosen, which means, ass eats pants."

Now, as this is both hilarious and important information, what made it so funny was the way he said it. In his matter of fact German accent he couldn't understand what was so funny that caused the entire table, my family, to roar with laughter. I thought my dad was going to end up on the ground. Ass eats pants, not only gives you an amazing visual of the meaning of the word wedgie, it also sounds amazing and makes you want to tell the whole world what the literal translation of the word wedgie is in German.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

"Me want bread"

We have been living in the U.S. for about 8 months now, and as I reminisce on the past couple years I can now look at it objectively and see it for what it really was. Among many different experiences I had in Germany, I would consider my language schooling to be the most noteworthy when it comes to giving you a little picture of what my days consisted of. Irritated, would be a word to describe just how I felt when I could not, on a day to day basis have the ability to express exactly what is was that I wanted. I found it difficult to say how much, and what type of bread I would like, or trying to explain that I wanted flat water with ice was as though I was trying to convince the waitress that I was indeed a hippopotumus. Even telling the clerk how much I liked here hair took considerate preparation, and any chance of spontaneous conversation was ended with a nervous laugh and a feeling of incompetence. I found myself settling for much less than what I actually wanted, afraid of revealing my inadequate German vocabulary. I would often resign with a nod yes to the chicken liver, instead of the actual breast meat, later throwing it out because the American recipes for chicken liver pleasantly disguised its taste with deep fat frying. A nod yes, or no had become my first language, and before I knew it my audacity for speaking without fear of sounding stupid had later turned me into an insecure head nodder. Otherwise I sounded like this. "Yes, I want these bread." or "I want milk in me." It was months later when my frustration required me to have Christoph make the phone call I was persistently avoiding. Not only could I not order the right chicken meat, I was certainly incapable of calling a German school and retaining necessary information for starting a course.
My first day of German class brought me back to my first day of high school, after being home schooled for most of my life. I remember walking in my biology class as the "new" student, and as it was a particularly small school in the first place I felt even more singled out. I was at first known as the shy ice skater, as ice skating had been my sport of choice for the past 5 years, but later got demoted to just the shy girl, after I quit my vigorous sport. I then tried a series of other sports, later settling with soccer. Cheer leading always looked attractive to me, but the year I envied the popular senior girls, was not the year I joined the cheer leading team. The following year I tried out and made the team. But, since all of the previous years squad consisted of seniors, our team then consisted of four girls, a teacher who had a peculiar admiration for the song, "Eye of the Tiger," and an embarrassing light show we performed to that exact song. I've never hated myself more than the moment our teacher had us swinging our light sticks to the beat, and still expected us to be accepted among our fellow students after that shindig. It was awful to say the least. Not that we were bad cheerleaders, but only that the choice of dances and songs were a bit outdated.

I walked in to the emotionless classroom, where the name for our teacher was written on the white board. Mr. Andreas was only one of our three teachers we had in the three months I was there. I have described him in a previous blog, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. You can read that blog if you would like a visual. You could tell he was a narscisist, pleasured by the fact that he probably knew more than all of us combined. At least he thought so. It is quite possible the only thing he knew more than us was the German language. I heard him talking in a low voice to his mother one day, when my German had exceedingly progressed, and it seemed as though he wanted schnitzel for dinner instead of soup. I assumed from that conversation he was living with his mother, after a heartbreaking divorce that left him sad and alone. He implied this occurrence one day in class while on one of his hour long discussions about himself. I could not help feel for him, as people like that usually attempt disguise their insecurities with a facade of egotism. I was most likely the only person in our class to find him amusing. Amir, seated next to me seemed to hate his guts, and rolled his eyes every time Andreas went on another tangent of how knowledgeable he was. This usually occurred every ten minutes, and by the end of class we had accomplished barely any worksheets and were sent home with two hours worth of homework. I didn't mind though. He was better than the two other teachers, one of which voice was comparable to Ben Stein, the "Dry Eyes" commercial guy. He left me feeling depressed and in need of a nap. Andreas, spoke with such passion that it left you wanting to better learn German, just so you could know what it was he was saying in such a life or death manner. It later turned out that he mostly spoke of politics, or how the German culture is far greater than any other culture in the world. I thought it funny how comfortable he felt saying this as our classroom consisted of possibly twenty different cultures.