In May, my husband and I made the decision that we needed to visit my paternal grandparents on their farm in Kansas. There were rumblings since Christmas of them moving out of their house on the farm and into a sort of retirement-independent living community in town. During a discussion with my father after his own visit to see them, I felt a tug on my heart. My father said they were going through old boxes, photographs, and memorabilia, sorting what they wanted to keep and give away. Along with those items were a lot of memories, stories I've never heard and my grandparents may have never told until that point. If they were going to leave the farm, I needed to visit one more time and pay homage to the memories I had made in the house and with my grandparents, to the stories I will tell my children, and to the place in my heart that the farm has a hold on.
In Brent and I's conversation, I was telling him about what my father had said, how they were sorting through their lives and making an effort to both literally a figuratively move on. I recounted how I had spent, on two separate occasions, a week at their farm sorting through their old photographs and making each my grandmother and grandfather their own heritage scrapbook, filled with their ancestors' pictures, stories, and in the process, learning more about who I am. I told Brent about how my grandparents are people I deeply respect and love, and how my grandfather was born on the property he still lives on, almost 90 years later (that, in and of itself, is amazing!) Now Brent had only met them and visited the farm once, a visit that lasted possibly only 24 hours. But what was happening during my telling him these things was that I was realizing why it was so important that I go visit: my grandparents were the most consistent and steady family I had growing up.
Of course they aren't my only family growing up. I have been blessed with a large, loving, hilarious, and mostly uncomplicated family on both my mother and father's side. But for some reason, my paternal grandparents had a special place in my life. Maybe it's because there's a part of me that wishes I was raised by them, living a simple country lifestyle, surrounded by the beauty of a Kansas agricultural landscape. Maybe it's because, year after year, we would visit and they would still be there, still their same old selves, still believing that the Lord is good, still married, still providing the best poppyseed bread and mashed potatoes you could find anywhere. Their house changed very little over the years: they painted the wood paneling one year, got new drapes another. But I know their farmhouse like the back of my hand, and am amazed in it's simple, yet sturdy construction and use.
Their farm is one of the safest places in the world for me.
So when we actually visited in early August, we did the usual small-town Western Kansas activities: walked around the dirt roads, attended the county fair complete with funnel cakes, demolition derby, and pork burgers, as well as simply just sitting around and visiting. That's another thing I love about their farm - besides being in the quiet, peaceful country, there really isn't much to do. You just hang out. And I loved it! During our visit, Brent and I, as well as my father and stepmom, observed the changes going on, had discussions, and wondered at the best course of action. I knew the purpose of my visit, though: to grieve and rejoice. To find closure in a part of my life I am so grateful for.
On the last morning we were there, Brent and I went on a walk around the property, stumbling through overgrown grass, sliding along the gravel, and marveling at the freshly-cut wheat fields nearby with the perfect and clean blue sky as a backdrop. We even snuck a few shots in the cornfield. Towards the end, we sat on the concrete slab next to a large steel building that housed expensive farming equipment and decades of tools and farming supplies, shaded from the morning sun. I don't remember what we said, but I just started crying. The kind of crying that begins as a tight knot in your chest, comes out in unattractive gasps and sniffles, and generally makes me self-conscious that this might be one of those moments where Brent wonders who this lady is and what is happening to her.
I was so grateful to God for allowing me to have this place, for having these grandparents. I was mourning their departure and the change in their living situation, but most importantly, I was learning how to let go. I was learning how to appreciate their presence in my life, yet as I sat there depositing snot onto Brent's shirt, I was also learning how to cling to a new presence: my husband. I was learning how even though I had a physical picture of steadfast love in my life through my grandparents, the Lord was standing behind them with even more steadfastness and faithfulness. I was learning to step forward and into a new life.
The Lord has never abandoned me. He has always been looking out for me, meeting my needs, and providing in ways that I can only realize later. I'm so thankful for the influence my grandparents had on me and can only hope I can love like they have, consistently and faithfully, powered by a God who never sleeps or slumbers. A God who sees all and knows my heart. A God who is very, very real.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Why Newlyweds Disappear
Starting when I was in college and then until the time I got married myself, I noticed a curious trend with friends that had recently gotten married: they disappeared. Not like really disappeared like in Harry Potter (soooo cool though!), but I just didn't see them that much. They would be absent from daily life and often events that normally I would expect them at. They would do curious things like say "I need to get home before dinner." Or "we're having date night tonight." Isn't every night date night? I mean, don't y'all just have dinner and stare into each other's eyes all the time? It was very weird.
My outlook on marriage at that point was that you get married so you can hang out with your best friend ALL the time as opposed to just a few hours a day, but really nothing else changes. Your current relationships, both male and female, stay the same. You can still be expected to show up at social functions, speak to your friends and family the same way, and have the same level of interest and care for them.
Yup, not so much. Here's why we disappear. (Or at least, my opinion.)
We're essentially new people. We have consciously made a decision to start a new life together, and part of starting a new life is figuring out how to LIVE. Firstly, how do I live with another person? Why do they fart under the covers and laugh? Why do they take so long brushing their teeth? Does everything really need to be THAT clean? Secondly, if I'm forming a new life with this other person, how well do I know them? My pastor's wife remarked that she remembers wondering 6 months into marriage, compared to when they got married, how little they knew of each other! I need to spend time with them to understand not only their likes, dislikes, etc, but who they are as a person and how I can help them become the best version of themselves possible. These answers don't just come magically when you say "I do," walk down the aisle, and are suddenly married. They come over time.
It's not that I don't want to hang out with my friends, relate with them the same way, and/or spend time and energy pouring into them, but I've found a new person that is my priority. This is not to say I don't do any of the former things AT ALL, they just are put aside for a bit as my husband and I figure out who we are, who we want to be, and how this whole marriage thing works.
Eventually, we'll get to a place where we can reintegrate, if you will, but it takes a little time. It's hard because it's different, yet so so good. And it's needed. I promise!
Thursday, July 31, 2014
New Name: New Identity
The first day back at work after returning from my honeymoon, my intern was following me around as I was rounding on my patients. After writing a note in a patient's chart, I signed my name as usual, but then stopped short and stared at the only signature I'd ever known: Rebecca May. She noticed my pause, saying, "Aren't you going to sign your new name?" I was dumbfounded. I guess so? What is my new name? How do I sign it? Is it really MY name yet? Is it official? Who says?
It wasn't until a month later, after submitting paperwork and driving all across town that I held two, small pieces of paper that announced indeed, I was Rebecca May Bassett. It wasn't until then that it felt real. I would go to a doctor's appointment, but get confused when they asked my name - am I Rebecca May here or the new one? Con artists must be pretty smart to keep up with all the aliases they have! I could barely keep straight who knew which name and when people questioned my pause, having to explain the situation. I know who I am, I promise!
One step in the journey to becoming Mrs. Bassett was leaving behind my given name: Rebecca Suzanne Jecha (ye-ka) May. Oof, I know, it's a long one. But it was mine. I was originally sans the Suzanne, added when I was 5 years old. The only thing I remember about the name change announcement from my parents was my deep sadness that I wouldn't be able to rhyme my name anymore - Rebecca Jecha May had such a nice, rhythmic ring to it!
So there was a process or handful of moments when I would stare at the new name, then back at my old one, and mentally release my identity as the former in order to fully embrace the latter. As it goes with changing your name, so does your identity. What you are called greatly impacts your identity, who you think you are, and how others perceive you. Naming children must be such a weighty task!
Another thing I realized was that I actually began the name-changing process 10 years ago at Camp Eagle when my friend Mitchell randomly asked one day, "Hey, can we call you Reba?" I had no objections, it sounded cool, so I obliged. Unbeknownst to me, God was preparing a new chapter for my life, one that began small, but as I graduated, moved to Kansas, then moved to Austin, it began to write itself into the most beautiful, redemptive story I could never have thought up. Since moving to Austin, God has increasingly dug into my heart, exposed the lies and hurt that was there, and graciously and warmly healed and redeemed who I thought I was as He was forming me into who I actually am. Thus, my new name began to rest comfortably in a new heart: Reba.
So when I married my husband and "took" his last name as my own, replacing my past with my future, I was in essence forming my new identity.
Reba Bassett, an entirely new woman in more ways than one.
It wasn't until a month later, after submitting paperwork and driving all across town that I held two, small pieces of paper that announced indeed, I was Rebecca May Bassett. It wasn't until then that it felt real. I would go to a doctor's appointment, but get confused when they asked my name - am I Rebecca May here or the new one? Con artists must be pretty smart to keep up with all the aliases they have! I could barely keep straight who knew which name and when people questioned my pause, having to explain the situation. I know who I am, I promise!
One step in the journey to becoming Mrs. Bassett was leaving behind my given name: Rebecca Suzanne Jecha (ye-ka) May. Oof, I know, it's a long one. But it was mine. I was originally sans the Suzanne, added when I was 5 years old. The only thing I remember about the name change announcement from my parents was my deep sadness that I wouldn't be able to rhyme my name anymore - Rebecca Jecha May had such a nice, rhythmic ring to it!
So there was a process or handful of moments when I would stare at the new name, then back at my old one, and mentally release my identity as the former in order to fully embrace the latter. As it goes with changing your name, so does your identity. What you are called greatly impacts your identity, who you think you are, and how others perceive you. Naming children must be such a weighty task!
Another thing I realized was that I actually began the name-changing process 10 years ago at Camp Eagle when my friend Mitchell randomly asked one day, "Hey, can we call you Reba?" I had no objections, it sounded cool, so I obliged. Unbeknownst to me, God was preparing a new chapter for my life, one that began small, but as I graduated, moved to Kansas, then moved to Austin, it began to write itself into the most beautiful, redemptive story I could never have thought up. Since moving to Austin, God has increasingly dug into my heart, exposed the lies and hurt that was there, and graciously and warmly healed and redeemed who I thought I was as He was forming me into who I actually am. Thus, my new name began to rest comfortably in a new heart: Reba.
So when I married my husband and "took" his last name as my own, replacing my past with my future, I was in essence forming my new identity.
Reba Bassett, an entirely new woman in more ways than one.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Why I Write
I'm not a professional writer, but I do enjoy expressing my thoughts verbally and on "paper." Typing seems to be the fastest way for my thoughts to record themselves, and I often find myself typing my journal entries instead of physically writing them because there is just so much to spew out.
I never know when I'll have an observation, idea, or topic I feel the need to write about; it just happens. Sometimes the only way to fully understand and process something is for me to explore it through writing. Akin to a sudden need to use the restroom, the illustrious David Sedaris has remarked that he often can't control his writing prompts, creating lots of awkward situations in which he MUST WRITE in the basement instead of spending time with his in-laws upstairs, in one example. I usually write ideas in my phone to look at later when I'm uninterrupted and feeling the "flow" to write.
But I really just write for myself. I have no desire to be a famous blogger, writer, or have anything go viral - in fact, that would make me really uncomfortable. I write because I want to understand myself, and in sharing it with others, want them to understand me, too. I write because it helps me see my ideas and thoughts in an organized fashion, which is typically not how they initially show up in my brain. I write because it soothes me to have something resolved; something finished and posted. Even though the issue may not be finished, I at least have part of the puzzle I can use as a signpost when I navigate the process later on.
This blog is simply me processing life. There is a lot that is new, a lot that is changing. And I don't want to miss any of it. I hope you enjoy my journey!
I never know when I'll have an observation, idea, or topic I feel the need to write about; it just happens. Sometimes the only way to fully understand and process something is for me to explore it through writing. Akin to a sudden need to use the restroom, the illustrious David Sedaris has remarked that he often can't control his writing prompts, creating lots of awkward situations in which he MUST WRITE in the basement instead of spending time with his in-laws upstairs, in one example. I usually write ideas in my phone to look at later when I'm uninterrupted and feeling the "flow" to write.
But I really just write for myself. I have no desire to be a famous blogger, writer, or have anything go viral - in fact, that would make me really uncomfortable. I write because I want to understand myself, and in sharing it with others, want them to understand me, too. I write because it helps me see my ideas and thoughts in an organized fashion, which is typically not how they initially show up in my brain. I write because it soothes me to have something resolved; something finished and posted. Even though the issue may not be finished, I at least have part of the puzzle I can use as a signpost when I navigate the process later on.
This blog is simply me processing life. There is a lot that is new, a lot that is changing. And I don't want to miss any of it. I hope you enjoy my journey!
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
On Being Blunt
One thing I highly value is efficiency. Whatever is the quickest and most productive way to get something done is the best. While I am a verbal processor and can want to explore things out loud often, when a question is asked that I can answer quickly, I do. Why waste time beating around the bush? Just be honest.
Apparently that's a unique trait.
There have been several times my husband and I have, to anyone else, the most bluntest and honest conversation, usually covering a lot of ground in about 10 seconds. I'm so thankful that he's not intimidated by it, and in fact, appreciates the way we communicate. It would drive me crazy if it took 20 minutes to cover the same ground, especially with someone I know better than any other relationship.
Case in point, we were sitting out on the patio after dinner one night, across the table from each other, and he asked what I wanted to do that evening. Rather than say "maybe we could watch a movie" or "maybe we could go on a walk" with several winks and bats of my eyelashes, I simply said, "I think I need some touch time." I tend to receive love and comfort through physical touch, and instead of suggesting ways that could happen and letting him guess until he got it right, I simply said what I really needed, the deepest, most honest answer I could give. He laughed, and we ended up snuggling on the couch, talking and relaxing. My honest answer gave him freedom to pick any number of options, knowing the real felt need at the time.
But beyond efficiency, I also prize being blunt and honest because it's taken me awhile to be ok with who I am and what I really want to say. I used to be a person who saw my value as very low, and therefore what I wanted to communicate as not important. It's taken a lot of healing and disbelieving lies to get me to feel like I have a voice that people want to hear. I haven't "arrived" at being totally honest (not sure anyone does!), and often have to remember to just "get it out there" instead of letting myself be intimidated by how I think the other person is perceiving who I am or what I'm saying.
But I do feel much better when what's really going on can be put out there instead of waltzing around the issue, hoping someone will know me well enough to guess my needs. I feel safe when I know what is the truth, what is the status quo, and what might happen in the future rather than just guessing and waiting and wondering. I think I do it more for myself than anyone else.
I've also had to learn tact, and how to balance compassion with honesty; listening between the lines. And it's tough, probably just as tough as it is for someone who isn't used to honesty and being blunt. Regardless of your communication style, the bottom line is to listen. You'd be surprised what some people really are saying.
Apparently that's a unique trait.
There have been several times my husband and I have, to anyone else, the most bluntest and honest conversation, usually covering a lot of ground in about 10 seconds. I'm so thankful that he's not intimidated by it, and in fact, appreciates the way we communicate. It would drive me crazy if it took 20 minutes to cover the same ground, especially with someone I know better than any other relationship.
Case in point, we were sitting out on the patio after dinner one night, across the table from each other, and he asked what I wanted to do that evening. Rather than say "maybe we could watch a movie" or "maybe we could go on a walk" with several winks and bats of my eyelashes, I simply said, "I think I need some touch time." I tend to receive love and comfort through physical touch, and instead of suggesting ways that could happen and letting him guess until he got it right, I simply said what I really needed, the deepest, most honest answer I could give. He laughed, and we ended up snuggling on the couch, talking and relaxing. My honest answer gave him freedom to pick any number of options, knowing the real felt need at the time.
But beyond efficiency, I also prize being blunt and honest because it's taken me awhile to be ok with who I am and what I really want to say. I used to be a person who saw my value as very low, and therefore what I wanted to communicate as not important. It's taken a lot of healing and disbelieving lies to get me to feel like I have a voice that people want to hear. I haven't "arrived" at being totally honest (not sure anyone does!), and often have to remember to just "get it out there" instead of letting myself be intimidated by how I think the other person is perceiving who I am or what I'm saying.
But I do feel much better when what's really going on can be put out there instead of waltzing around the issue, hoping someone will know me well enough to guess my needs. I feel safe when I know what is the truth, what is the status quo, and what might happen in the future rather than just guessing and waiting and wondering. I think I do it more for myself than anyone else.
I've also had to learn tact, and how to balance compassion with honesty; listening between the lines. And it's tough, probably just as tough as it is for someone who isn't used to honesty and being blunt. Regardless of your communication style, the bottom line is to listen. You'd be surprised what some people really are saying.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
30 Thanks
{no particular order}
1. How completely different my life is now than when I was dreaming it up at age 10. The Lord has been so good to redeem and completely blow my meager expectations out of the water! I could never have imagined where I would be today.
2. My amazing, hilarious, strong, honest, and adventurous husband who loves me so well. I am a different and better person because of him. And he's pretty cute. :)
3. That I am not perfect.
4. My grandparents, their parents, their parents, and the generations before me. Each action my ancestors had has affected my life, and I am so grateful for each. I particularly am thankful for my grandparents, as they've taught me so much about respect, laughter, work ethic, and love for the Lord.
5. A job that is many many many answers to prayer and fasting; a job where I teach and facilitate exercise and recovery, interact with and love on people, and yet come home with stories of hope, healing, and interesting patients!
6. Sweet tea, over ice, with sliced lemon, in a mason jar. My end of work treat.
7. The opportunity to play guitar and lead worship for our small group. Half the time I don't have a clue what I'm doing, and I'm so thankful it's not about my skill. I get to be a part of some amazing stuff!
8. The beautiful combination of sun, water, and quiet. So healing and restorative.
9. The 3 summers I worked at Camp Eagle/Eagle Quest. I got a lot of my work ethic from the continual experiences of being handed a task and told to go do it. I learned resourcefulness, time management, and ultimately how to have fun doing it!
10. The 9 months I worked for Starbucks. There are things I learned and experienced that I could not have done so anywhere else.
11. Freedom.
12. Brownie batter. Yum!
13. Music. There are just some things that can only be expressed through singing, listening, and playing. So thankful for it's therapeutic effects, mood-boosting aspects, and ability to make me cry!
14. The knowledge that I am loved, and loved deeply. This truly gives me the greatest happiness I've known.
15. The feeling of clean sheets the first time you lay on them.
16. This may seem odd, but the first time you smell yourself on a backpacking trip. It reminds me that I'm in the middle of nowhere, that I don't have to shower, and that I'm doing something completely different than my usual life. And it makes me appreciate the shower at the end of it!
17. Dr. Tew, my rheumatologist, the first doctor I met upon moving to Austin. He not only is a big sweetheart, but is calm, gives me perspective, and understands my needs. He also is a doctor who fought to keep me as his patient when my insurance changed. I am so grateful for his care and direction over the past 4.5 years of craziness!
18. Sentimentality. I am so grateful for a way to enjoy memories, give respect, and value what really matters. I cry a lot and keep seemingly insignificant objects, but I love it!
19. My church. Who would've thought I would become one of the crazy and happy dancers during worship? They have provided such a beautiful atmosphere for my healing and maturing in the last 4 years.
20. Dry milk and saving butter wrappers to oil a pan. These practices I grew up with taught me a lot about the value of what I have access to now.
21. All I have, I have received as a gift, not based on my performance or failures.
22. SUMMER! I could do this all year. The Lord knew what He was doing when I was born in June.
23. The newness of marriage. It's almost as if I have one story: before I got married, and now I have another. The world is before us!
24. Stories. One of my favorite volunteer jobs was to record the life stories of elderly individuals in the hospital. There's something so tender and humbling about hearing someone's story, and I'm so grateful for how it helps me love and relate with them more, knowing where they're coming from. We all have a story!
25. This goes with summer, but SUN and WATER, typically together. I feel so alive after being outside in the sun, cooling off in the water, or just letting the water calm me by staring at its consistency and peace.
26. I have an amazing community of friends and family. It's so heart-wrenching to see patients who literally have no one to care for them. I'm so grateful I have such a beautiful mix of people who I can rely on and they can rely on me.
27. Through all of my health issues, I have always been able to exercise, in some form or fashion. Being active, working out really hard, pushing it, lifting too much, being sore, sweating... these all help me de-stress, improve my physical health, but most importantly remind me that I am ALIVE! I am so grateful I can breathe and do what I love, regardless of my trachea size. :)
28. The combination of bacon and avocados, so full of texture (and fat). Nothing better!
29. Pictures from NASA of the universe. It helps me see God's perspective as well as remember His hugeness! (follow them on instagram!)
30. Finally, I am thankful for these amazing 30 years the Lord has given me. I can't imagine what the next 30 will look like... but I'm excited to see what story He writes with my life!
1. How completely different my life is now than when I was dreaming it up at age 10. The Lord has been so good to redeem and completely blow my meager expectations out of the water! I could never have imagined where I would be today.
2. My amazing, hilarious, strong, honest, and adventurous husband who loves me so well. I am a different and better person because of him. And he's pretty cute. :)
3. That I am not perfect.
4. My grandparents, their parents, their parents, and the generations before me. Each action my ancestors had has affected my life, and I am so grateful for each. I particularly am thankful for my grandparents, as they've taught me so much about respect, laughter, work ethic, and love for the Lord.
5. A job that is many many many answers to prayer and fasting; a job where I teach and facilitate exercise and recovery, interact with and love on people, and yet come home with stories of hope, healing, and interesting patients!
6. Sweet tea, over ice, with sliced lemon, in a mason jar. My end of work treat.
7. The opportunity to play guitar and lead worship for our small group. Half the time I don't have a clue what I'm doing, and I'm so thankful it's not about my skill. I get to be a part of some amazing stuff!
8. The beautiful combination of sun, water, and quiet. So healing and restorative.
9. The 3 summers I worked at Camp Eagle/Eagle Quest. I got a lot of my work ethic from the continual experiences of being handed a task and told to go do it. I learned resourcefulness, time management, and ultimately how to have fun doing it!
10. The 9 months I worked for Starbucks. There are things I learned and experienced that I could not have done so anywhere else.
11. Freedom.
12. Brownie batter. Yum!
13. Music. There are just some things that can only be expressed through singing, listening, and playing. So thankful for it's therapeutic effects, mood-boosting aspects, and ability to make me cry!
14. The knowledge that I am loved, and loved deeply. This truly gives me the greatest happiness I've known.
15. The feeling of clean sheets the first time you lay on them.
16. This may seem odd, but the first time you smell yourself on a backpacking trip. It reminds me that I'm in the middle of nowhere, that I don't have to shower, and that I'm doing something completely different than my usual life. And it makes me appreciate the shower at the end of it!
17. Dr. Tew, my rheumatologist, the first doctor I met upon moving to Austin. He not only is a big sweetheart, but is calm, gives me perspective, and understands my needs. He also is a doctor who fought to keep me as his patient when my insurance changed. I am so grateful for his care and direction over the past 4.5 years of craziness!
18. Sentimentality. I am so grateful for a way to enjoy memories, give respect, and value what really matters. I cry a lot and keep seemingly insignificant objects, but I love it!
19. My church. Who would've thought I would become one of the crazy and happy dancers during worship? They have provided such a beautiful atmosphere for my healing and maturing in the last 4 years.
20. Dry milk and saving butter wrappers to oil a pan. These practices I grew up with taught me a lot about the value of what I have access to now.
21. All I have, I have received as a gift, not based on my performance or failures.
22. SUMMER! I could do this all year. The Lord knew what He was doing when I was born in June.
23. The newness of marriage. It's almost as if I have one story: before I got married, and now I have another. The world is before us!
24. Stories. One of my favorite volunteer jobs was to record the life stories of elderly individuals in the hospital. There's something so tender and humbling about hearing someone's story, and I'm so grateful for how it helps me love and relate with them more, knowing where they're coming from. We all have a story!
25. This goes with summer, but SUN and WATER, typically together. I feel so alive after being outside in the sun, cooling off in the water, or just letting the water calm me by staring at its consistency and peace.
26. I have an amazing community of friends and family. It's so heart-wrenching to see patients who literally have no one to care for them. I'm so grateful I have such a beautiful mix of people who I can rely on and they can rely on me.
27. Through all of my health issues, I have always been able to exercise, in some form or fashion. Being active, working out really hard, pushing it, lifting too much, being sore, sweating... these all help me de-stress, improve my physical health, but most importantly remind me that I am ALIVE! I am so grateful I can breathe and do what I love, regardless of my trachea size. :)
28. The combination of bacon and avocados, so full of texture (and fat). Nothing better!
29. Pictures from NASA of the universe. It helps me see God's perspective as well as remember His hugeness! (follow them on instagram!)
30. Finally, I am thankful for these amazing 30 years the Lord has given me. I can't imagine what the next 30 will look like... but I'm excited to see what story He writes with my life!
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Giving Permission
{This is a follow-up to the post Who is this person next to me?! as I've continued to explore this topic as well as talk to several people who have had similar experiences}
It's so funny how you're in the oddest places, when all of a sudden you hear a word or see a picture or hear a lyric that you are acutely aware of. It's like time stops and all you can do is zone in on the stimulus that caught your senses. Well, I was in BodyPump class the other day, and the bicep track was Kelly Clarkson's Bad Side. I was intrigued by a few of the lines, so here's all of them for your reference:
Oh oh oh, there's a place that I know
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone
If I show it to you now
Will it make you run away?
Or will you stay
Even if it hurts
Even if I try to push you out
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am
Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it
You know that we're worth it
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?
Like a diamond
From black dust
It's hard to know
What can become
If you give up
So don't give up on me
Please remind me who I really am
Don't run away
Don't run away
Just tell me that you will stay
Promise me you will stay
Don't run away
Don't run away
Just promise me you will stay
Promise me you will stay
It's so funny how you're in the oddest places, when all of a sudden you hear a word or see a picture or hear a lyric that you are acutely aware of. It's like time stops and all you can do is zone in on the stimulus that caught your senses. Well, I was in BodyPump class the other day, and the bicep track was Kelly Clarkson's Bad Side. I was intrigued by a few of the lines, so here's all of them for your reference:
Oh oh oh, there's a place that I know
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone
If I show it to you now
Will it make you run away?
Or will you stay
Even if it hurts
Even if I try to push you out
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am
Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it
You know that we're worth it
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?
Like a diamond
From black dust
It's hard to know
What can become
If you give up
So don't give up on me
Please remind me who I really am
Don't run away
Don't run away
Just tell me that you will stay
Promise me you will stay
Don't run away
Don't run away
Just promise me you will stay
Promise me you will stay
I don't know why I'm so surprised that pop music would have such deep lyrics, but I was encouraged. Someone else feels this way! And not just people I hang out with and know personally! Songs have a way of uniting us by establishing a common viewpoint, whether it be a struggle, question, or observation. I love it.
So I began thinking more about how a major question of marriage is, "Do you want to deal with my stuff? My junk? The stuff no one else knows? The weird stuff? Will you still love me?" That's the risk of promising to love someone else - you don't really know them until you love them deeper. You have no clue what you don't know, and that's why it's so scary sometimes!
However, I would submit that an even more important question could be, "Do I want to deal with my own stuff? My junk? Am I comfortable with not only someone else seeing it, but actually dealing with it?"
Lately I've had a few days where my junk is just THERE and I can't avoid it anymore. My husband is exceptionally patient and gracious, giving me space when I wake up grumpy and haven't had my time with Jesus yet. But beyond understanding how I respond is the challenge of actually giving myself the grace to be a mess. Why is that a challenge? Because even though we want to appear well, everyone's a mess! It's easy to just see the outside of who we are, but really there's SO much going on that we don't know, even to ourselves. It's hard, but recognizing my humanity and giving myself permission to be imperfect are probably the healthiest things I can do in my marriage, and in my life.
So give yourself permission to not be perfect today. And smile. It gets better.
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