Old vs. New

Old vs. New

Well, I began my day wearing the “Awkward” shirt.  No, please don’t post a snide remark about how much of my clothing is awkward.  I’m liable to either go postal on you or break into an uncontrollable sob.  I wore the shirt from the picture on this page.  It simply says, “Awkward.”  I wore it to the church this morning.  I’ve tried to figure out why I wore it.  1) I felt awkward.  2) It’s really funny, and I want people to be able to laugh a little.  3)  I think it might invite people in to talking a little more… maybe.  Anyways, it got a good laugh from at least one person.  I’m planning on wearing it a lot.  I might even intentionally wear it two times in a row when I know I’m going to see the same people.  I know… a cardinal sin in our culture.

I began the process of packing up my office.  Seriously, why do I have so many books?  I haven’t read a lot of them.  They’re like trophies in the way that they falsely communicate that I am “learned.”  Anyways, hoping McKay’s will buy a few of them.  My pride will cause me to cling to some that I have no intention of reading… I just want to make sure I still have enough on the shelves to appear like I read.

Got back from the office and moved into full gear as we got the family ready to go to Dollywood.  Dollywood was amazing.  Such sweet time with my kids.  Hearing Elliott cackle with delight brings me such joy.  We got to be with sweet friends.  It was just easy and awesome.  The old me probably would have stopped right there.  The new, messier me needs to fill in a few of the gaps.  When I got home from the office, I was incredibly crotchety.  I don’t even completely know why.  As I think back to my middle school Language Arts classes, my mind dissects the word, “crotchety” into its root word.  No need to type it.  We’ll just say that it isn’t pretty.  That was me. 

In the midst of my crotchetiness I was trying to feed Charli her baby cereal.  Of course, I’m getting frustrated with her (make sure you understand that she is the sweetest baby in the world, she lived in the NICU for 139 days, she has lost two brothers… and again she is the sweetest baby in the world), and I’m getting ticked that she is so difficult to feed.  Simultaneously, Elliott decides that he wants to “help” me with a few things.  As he “helps,” he continues to knock things off the refrigerator, knock over his drink, etc.  He insisted on “helping” to fix the messes he was making.  Of course, this made matters worse.  I grabbed his sippy cup and tossed it across the room.  Let me make sure I communicate this clearly.  It was not an overhand throw like I practiced in my dodgeball days.  It was more like I aggressively slid it across the floor, but the cup happened to get some air.  Anyways, I looked up at Elliott after having “tossed” his cup.  His eyes were unlike I had ever seen them.  He was not afraid.  His eyes communicated a significant amount of confusion, but there seemed to be some pity in the way he looked at me.  It was like he was thinking, “What in the world is wrong with my dad?”  I apologized, but I think I was grateful that I didn’t have to answer the question, “What’s wrong with you?”

Seems I have so many people that care for me.  I’m deeply blessed.  I’m constantly asked the question, “Are you okay?”  I don’t even know what that means.  Does it mean, “Do you have enough money for groceries and bills?”  Does it mean, “Are you stable?”  Does it mean, “Do I need to worry about you?”  Not sure what it means.  I think I’m going to avoid answering that question directly.

All I do know is that beneath the surface there’s a lot going on.  If you scratch the surface, you’re likely to get a gusher.  That’s a metaphor if you missed it.  If I bump my toe, I’m likely to respond in disproportionate anger.  If I get offended, I’m likely to go off the handle as they say. 

I wonder if you ever feel this way?  I wonder why I have avoided sharing these types of things as much in the past.  I wonder if you share your struggles.  Don’t get me wrong… I’m still selective in what I share.  I’ve got a long way to go, but I want to invite you to join me in greater authenticity.  I desperately need it.