Miracles, in picture form.

Being a Girl is Hard.

Being a girl is hard. It just is. There are so many things that we deal with that boys don't think twice about. Friends hurt our feelings and while situationally things might get easier, sometimes the hurts go really deep and scar us at our core. We spend hours as a teenager wondering what people will think about us and wondering if we will fit in. Then we grow up a little and pretend to think less about those things, all the while just finding new ways to think about them.

And so we've just (supposedly) bought a house.

Our offer got submitted and accepted tonight... a different house than the first two mentioned, but great in a whole new set of ways. And it was built in 1994. We've got to get points for that, right?

Here's where being a girl kicks in. Already there are thougts going through my head about what people will say... did we "rebound" into this house since the other one just fell through? Did we really think through this decision or just wanted A house? And... even bigger... did we pick this house because it's right down the road from two of my best friends???

I have spent years carving out my identity separate from my girlfriends. I have always been "that girl" who cares very much that she has a best friend. More so than having a boyfriend, best friends have always been much more important to me. And I've always wanted these women to know that they are my best friends and I theirs. I've often fallen into the shadow of a more popular, more dynamic "lead" where I end up being the short funny sidekick. It's taken a lot of journaling, a lot of my crushes falling for them, and a lot of building my own esteem to realize that my worth is not directly related to my best friend-ships.

So when this great house became available right down the road from my dear friends... and yes, my best friend in town... my first thought was that we should not take it for that very reason. In it's own backward way, it felt like I was somehow asking my girlfriend in 7th grade to go to the bathroom with me at class change. It felt like I was once again hiding in the shadow of those friendships.

Until a wise friend of mine pointed out to me that it was just the opposite... that it was a mature and "grown up" decision to choose to live our lives (and bring Elizabeth up) in a neighborhood surrounded by people we love. These are people we see 3 to 4 times a week anyway... essentially, I'm just going to be Going Green in that we can now walk to each other's homes rather than drive.

I'm already guarding my heart from the "attacks"... especially because I know one friend also looked at this house and didn't like it. Thankfully, God has brought me to a better understanding of who I am separate from my friendships that allows me to enjoy them all the more. And, thankfully, we'll be living in a (mold-free, unlike the last one!) house that will be a home.

And, thankfully, my girlfriends will be right around the corner.
And I don't care who knows it.
LYLAS.
BFF.
RHTS.
Out the door in 94.

I'm just so over it.

This all just sucks. (Sorry Tom...)

We made an offer on a house... but it looks like it might fall through. Bad inspection today. I'm so bummed.

That was the one bright spot in our week... prior to that I've had a sick baby, a sick husband, and my step-mom is in the hospital and has not been doing well at all.

Can we just scrap this week and have a do-over?
I'm just so over it.

Roller Coasters

I have very vivid memories of roller coasters in my life. My first experience was going to Carowinds with Jamey's family for his birthday... and we were both too short to ride one. Yep, even the Scooby Doo one. Sadly, the bumper cars were enough to jog my bladder up a bit for a kindergardener, so I don't know why I thought I could have even handled a more adventurous ride.

Jump ahead to my eighth grade year... I clearly remember how cool I thought my Aunt Debi was because she would ride that rickety old roller coaster with me at the Pavillion in Myrtle Beach. I'm not sure if we rode it before or after having a Peaches Corner hot dog, but I remember feeling queasy nonetheless.

Freshman year at UNC during one of my asthma exacerbations (mentioned below) when I was having the closest I've ever come to a near-death experience, I fully remember feeling as though I was riding a roller coaster in the real-life ambulence trip. As I was unconscious, I didn't realize it was an ambulence, and instead my subconscious had me screaming and hanging on for fear of death in some imagined coaster car. As we got closer to the "station", my ex-boyfriend who was riding with me kept encouraging me to hang on due to my screaming to him "I'm not going to make it!" (I've since then equated his role in my subconscious to my spiritual cheerleader, and maybe that was what God was using to cheer me on to waking up.) (I'm not making any of this up, by the way... it freaked me out then and it freaks me out even now that I've shared such a story with the masses or lack thereof online...)

My current roller coaster is a little less exciting, but just as real to my psyche. Dan and I are in the process of looking for and buying a house. I took the forbidden step last week of falling in love with one... now nothing else comes close. We went to several open houses today and realized that if nothing else, we are both on the same page in our love with THE house. We've taken a couple of friends with us to look at THE house, and they keep offering encouragement- "it looks like a Becky and Dan house!" or "oh yeah, I can so see you here."

Enter the roller coaster. Conversations in our house range from "Where will we put the guest bed?" to "Should we wait another year to save more?" I talked to my Dad today who offered fatherly advice of "don't bite off more house than you can chew." Yes, this house is bigger/nicer than we originally thought we could/would have. But we have waited. We have prayed. We have paid off debts. We have fought. We have looked at our options. And now we are in love.

Hopefully I will be able to invite you all to a cookout at THE house sometime soon. If that's not the case, will you please bring a clean receptical for me to throw up in? I might need it anyway... roller coasters often do that to me.

Pieces of my life so far...

For Christmas, my mom gave me Amy Grant's book Mosaic, Pieces of My Life So Far. I fully expected it to be a memoir in the traditional sense and was really excited about reading all about her life. Instead, it's a collection of thoughts and reflections- snipits if you will- of her experiences. Basically, it's a published and bound blog.

This morning as I read more about her family, I started thinking about what my book, similarly composed, would look like. Pieces of my life so far.

I would tell stories of my childhood... of being a Daddy's girl; taking walks with my nanny and picking daisies; loving the way my Mom looked and smelled before she went on a date with my Daddy.

I would tell of that horrible road into adolesence... where my best friends were only my best friends if it felt right; of my Daddy moving out and that first day coming home from school to find all of his things gone... and how I first noticed the vacant spot on the counter where the coffee pot had been; of finding my first real boyfriend who I would fall for in middle school and continue to fall for throughout the years into college; of finding my first love and dreaming of a life together where I would be a preacher's wife... until a woman named Donna asked me why I didn't just want to be the preacher; and of taking my role in high school very, very seriously.

I would tell stories of years in Blue Heaven with friends who showed me what friendship was like when you chose to be friends rather than just being thrown together; of wondering if I would ever find love again; of doubting my intellect and my worth as I struggled to graduate (as discussed in great length below); and of learning to appreciate the "random" places I ended up only to find out God had put me there.

I would talk fondly of deciding it was okay to date a nerd who drove a hand-me-down mini-van and how getting over myself would allow me to fall in love with the man I would marry; of living and laughing with girls in that little farm house with a cute white dog; of developing my ministry in a church I love so much and the people that came with it; of having one of the best summers of my life only to watch it fall apart when friendships were shaken by girlfriends with unnecessary jealously or uncertain relationships after secrets were shared; then sobbing when my mini-van nerd picked me up to move me away...

I would grow up through the pages of the Land of Black and Gold where my heart would hurt unmeasurable hurt as lost and longed for babies were not met; meeting a woman in Panera who would teach me how to be a mom and how to be a bold friend; watching patterns of friendships ebb and flow as girls changed their phases of life; and how my heart became whole when I first saw that little girl with blonde hair whose skin was purple on that night in October.

My stories wouldn't appeal to everyone. In fact, writing them would be their worth... a chance for me to process through the people and events who have made me who I am. But as I read Amy Grant's book, I'm thankful for a glance into her life. Whether or not you are thankful for being able to glance into mine, I am thankful you chose to.

Things That Make Me Crazy.

Not a real "important" blog... just some thoughts I've had today. These are some things that make me crazy:

1. When people spell stationery/stationary wrong. The kind I make and sell is spelled stationery. Notice the "e". Think: "envelope." Stationary, the other kind, has an "a". My friend Renee says it's memorable because of the part of your body on which you sit... when you are stationary.

2. When things I paint are cuter in my head than they are when I paint them.

3. When my dog barks shortly after E is put to bed.

4. When my mother asks me 400 times to answer questions I can't.

5. When I get my self worked up about things that may or may not happen. i.e., Will people talk about breastfeeding too much tomorrow night at Bunko, or Will my feelings get hurt next week.

6. That people think my little girl is a little boy. But, sometimes she does look like Ralph Wiggem.

7. When I look around my "office" and see projects I still have finished. Off to work on those...

Has my life come to this?

My friend Katie summed it up nicely Monday morning at Bible Study. We were talking about coveting and she said a few months ago before they got their new car that she found herself coveting station wagons. She said her first thought when realizing that she was coveting a station wagon* was "Has my life really come to this?!? A station wagon?!?!"

I had the same thought today when I saw one of my crushes. He was driving past me. In a minivan. Has it really come to this? Have my days of crushes on real crushable people- like Kirk Cameron or Michael J. Fox moved on to the non-crushables?

I am constantly drawn to nerds. That's nothing new. Maybe I should have seen it coming when one of my first crushes was Alex P. Keaton- staunch Republican conservative. (I thought at the time that I balanced out that nerdy crush with the "rebel" crush on bad boy Mike Siever.) Because of my love for the nerds, no one is ever surprised when I confess my love for people like Peter Sagal, or (back in the day) Drew Carey. And because I'm 100% female, no one questions my love for the hot hot hot men like James Denton during the first season of Desperate Housewives, or Taye Diggs, well, anytime he breathes. And because I'm 100% Tarheel, no one (except for Erin Amrich who says that he's too old for me) questions my love for Roy Williams. Those "public" crushes kind of make sense to people.

But Lord knows I've always been cursed with the love for the "every day" man.

I've crushed on worship leaders of almost every church organization I've ever been a part of. I've crushed on my boyfriends before they were my boyfriends, and then their best friends once I was dating those boyfriends. I've crushed on teachers, leaders, friends' fathers and brothers... you name it, I've crushed.

Dan knows all about my crushes, don't worry. I am very open and honest with my love of other men. In fact, our friend Sinclair said the other day as I referrenced someone as "my boyfriend"... "wait, Becky... who isn't your boyfriend?" Sigh. So true.

The last 2 weeks have been hell for our family. We have ridden the emotional rollercoaster of cancer up and down. I have cried and cried and ached and ached. But in the midst of it... I've smiled. I have smiled... because... I was told someone had a crush on me. On ME!

An old friend from high school who I found on Myspace said these words:
Yep...I had a serious crush on you as a teenager! It was one of the only reasons I went to church! .... Anyway, how are you? Fill me in on your life. I'm so happy you messaged me...I figured you wouldn't even remember me.

Happy day of days... the crush-er became the crush-ee! My heart did a flip and I basked in my high school glow for a few minutes before I told Dan (and, yes, he made fun of me) then I wrote my friend back.

It's amazing what this silly revelation has done to my perspective this week. His words gave me confidence that I had been noticed in days when my identity felt so conflicted and bound to the identity of others. My place in the space of his life had meant something. My place in the space of someone's life other than my own had meant something. Maybe that's what my crushes are all about... allowing others to fill space in my life. Giving credibility for who they are and what they do (and, yes, even how they look.) I will continue to have crushes on people as long as I'm able. And maybe I'll even share that with them. Or maybe I'll just smile as they drive past me in their minivan... all the while thinking "Has my life really come to this?" Men in minivans, taking up space once occupied by Alex P. Keaton and Mike Siever.

As I've been sitting here writing this, an old friend who is married to a former crush called me. She asked if we wanted to hang out tonight. We are going to. Oh Lord... does this mean I have to rethink what I'm wearing?!?!?!? Some things never change... Has my life really come to this??

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*Please note: I am the proud owner of a station wagon. And not just ANY station wagon. One with a NICE sound system. And... neon lights. And I'm not kidding. Who wouldn't covet that?