I'm working on a non-fiction project called Bohemian Forgiveness: 5 Unconventional Paths to Forgiving What You'll Never Forget.
I have a literary agent. And submissions to publishing houses are underway. Meanwhile, a graphic designer is creating a collateral design that will feature 25 excerpts. This is a sample!
I'll keep you posted as we progress!
copyright 2018. Ame B. Design
Girl (!). Just last week I blogged about hitting the "fast balls." I must say, when I read over this "pearl of wisdom" (read with sarcastic tone) before officially posting, I was pleased--in that I genuinely attempt to identify something positive about my "fast ball" experiences, or at the very least find humor in them. More often than not, God uses humor to talk me off life's edges BEFORE He engages me in spiritual growth. It's just how we roll.
So last week I took a few hits:
1. Hit #1: The electricity stopped working in my son's room.
Um, okay. Since Mr. Electrician is not in the budget, he was quickly moved to the bottom of my "hit list."
Solution: "Hey Z (my beloved son), you'll have to sleep in the guest room for now."
2. Hit #2: A pipe in my sprinkler system burst, so I can no longer water my lawn like most of the mid to upper-class Americans who cannot fathom the worry associated with whether or not their child will develop a life threatening disease from their ONLY source of water.
Solution: Home Depot. Circa 1950 sprinkler. Yes, I must set my oven timer (another luxury) to remind me to turn the water off. Yes, it's a spoiled-American-pain-in-the-butt. BUT, it works. All I need now is a yellow Slip-and-Slide and to freshen up on my cart wheels. It's all good.
3. Hit #3: On a more personal note. It was time. Time to make the dreaded call to my gynecologist.
Me: Yes, I need to schedule an exam.
Front-Desk-Appointment-Maker: A well woman exam?
Me: I wish. I have reasons to believe my ex-husband was unfaithful and I need to be screened for every STD known to man-kind.
Awkward moment of silence. (Possibly imagined.)
Front-Desk-Appointment-Maker: Okay. Hold, please, while I take a moment to judge you see what we have available.
Solution: God. Add appointment to Iphone calendar. Beer (Don't judge me, I'm fragile). Cry. Battle a steady stream of sustained rage and humiliation. Cry. Cry again and again. (Not necessarily in this order.) And then I washed my face and invited my older son to join me and Z for dinner and meet up with old friend, Amanda, to watch fireworks.
Cut to park: Here, I sit in my camp chair drinking bottled water amongst sweet families. I try hard to forget that I once believed I ever truly had what I see . . . Husbands who love their wives. Dads swinging their toddler boys over their shoulders. Little girls dancing to the 70's disco band without a care in the world, and young boys wrestling one another to the grassy ground. You get the quintessential "family" picture.
Right about the time I question why I would torture myself so, the band plays Boogie Shoes by K.C. and The Sunshine Band, and Amanda says to me, "Don't look now, but Drunk Mom is about to get down!"
"Drunk Mom" and her BFF were seated in front of us (when they weren't shakin' their booties), with designated-driver husbands happy to see them have a good time.
Mind you, I'm not talkin' fall-down-traumatize-your-kid via public- intoxication-drunk. I'm referring to Psalm 104:15, where the Bible refers to wine as something that "makes glad the heart of man." Or in this case, two sweet moms whose 2-(3?) wine coolers kicked in and reminded me how innocent and fun life can be. Trust me, there was no shuttin' this dancethon down!
I suppose it's an odd thing to blog about, but I'm not sure I could've made it through the night without them. I truly believe in my heart, God knew I needed something to laugh about until I could fall into my bed and under His wing. And let the rage, the unfairness, and the humiliation of making that appointment, pour from my heart and spill through my eyes in the privacy of my bedroom with my two Labs and their loyal efforts to offer me a sense of safety.
No matter what happens now . . . no matter what: God is God. And God is good. He loves me. He loves you. He wants to honor His daughters and cleanse us of shame. And I, for one, am willing to share honestly, if it helps ONE woman who's shell-shocked by the careless sin of another. I have nothing to lose. I'm beginning to understand what the Apostle Paul meant in Philippians 1:21, when he said, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain."
I will not worry about my reputation when other women just like me, must--through no fault of their own, schedule an appointment for an STD screening because someone they loved was too broken to treat them with higher regard.
If this message clicks with you and you're having trouble sleeping. Know that when I wake in the night, I pray for us.
You are not alone,
Published on Wednesday, July 9, 2014 @ 1:34 PM CDT