Little Moments of Joy

I’ve had a bit of a tough week, but today I’m feeling better and think I shall just make a list of things that are currently bringing me moments of joy:

Lunchtime walks in the little square next to my library. Someone tossed rose petals into the fountain and just watching them float while listening to the trickling water lowered my blood pressure.

Reruns of Forged in Fire on Netflix. Something about watching people grind out swords and knives and axes by hand does it for me. And nothing is quite as fulfilling to hear as those words from Doug Marchaida after slashing up a forensic dummy, “It will KEAL!” For something a bit more therapeutic and wholesome, try The Great Pottery Throwdown on HBOMax.

My silly puppy figuring out how to wrap mum and I around her little paws more and more each day. Lately she’s taken to booping us on the leg with her nose, then herding us wherever she wants us to go. Usually to the back door to let her outside so she can chase squirrels and bark noisily. She also is trying to get us to hand feed her. Sigh. She’s almost 2! Good thing she’s so cute.

Getting interviewed over the phone by my second oldest nephew for a school project on “an adventurous extended relative.” It was so good to relive my traveling days, and have an excuse to dig up old photos from Australia from a couple decades ago. Yes, I used to be incredibly adventurous, and it’s good to remember that’s still part of me. Someday, time and money and global pandemic permitting, I’d like to get back some of that adventure. 

Clips of Harry Styles at Coachella dancing in a sparkly jumpsuit. I don’t even listen to his music or follow him, as I’m not really a pop music kind of gal, but the sheer radiating happiness that comes from his stage presence is contagious, even through the small screen of my phone in 10 second clips on Instagram.

Cheesy romance novels, fantasy graphic novels, and Victorian feminist murder mysteries, accessed for free via my library’s Hoopla and cloudLibrary accounts and my library card. Yay for guaranteed HEAs (Happily Ever Afters) and all the free books you could read/listen to.

Successful storytimes, even with TONS of new toddlers. We started our spring storytime sessions last week, and have a particularly young group this round, many of whom have never been anywhere before. So it’s been a joy to have the storytimes go well, and to have parents, grandparents, and guardians who are incredibly supportive, encouraging, and easy going. Plus, the flannel stories we made for spring are freakin’ adorable!

Prayer. I might be utterly fed up with the white evangelical church, but I am not done with my faith or my relationship with Christ. Prayer is getting me through so much these days, as it has throughout my life. My brain doesn’t have the ability to disconnect from things like thoughts of war, injustice, or abuse, so I often struggle as a counselor, concerned friend, and responsible member of society to not get dragged down into deep, lasting, cynical depression. I do have some coping mechanisms to help me disengage when needed, the most effective thing I personally can do is pray. I’m not one to say “thoughts and prayers” and do nothing – I try to do everything in my power to “do good, seek justice: help the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Isaiah 1:17). But in my day to day life, when there is little to nothing I can do in that moment or circumstance, prayer gets me through. I have a good God who cares about my worries, fears, concerns, pleas, and laments. A God who listens, understands, and acts. Prayer brings me joy.

I’m trying to recognize the little things of beauty and goodness more and more each day, so listing little moments like this and the things that help me get through daily life helps. What is bringing you moments of joy this week?

Getting a Little Messy

It’s springtime, which means things get a little messy. Mum and I have done some backyard gardening, with Dandelion as our “helper.” And with all this new life, my allergies go crazy, so my head is frequently a stuffed mess. Being a permanently single 40-something Christian dealing with other Christians’ strongly held views of singleness? Also messy.

A couple months ago, I was able to have 1½ hour long conversation with my friend, pastor and writer Scott Mehl, about “The Mess of Singleness” for his podcast, “The Messy Podcast.” The episode aired at the end of March, but I didn’t think to mention it here at the time. If you haven’t had the chance to listen to it, I strongly encourage you to check it out. It holds truths, challenges, and encouragements for both singles and marrieds. 

You can find it on Apple or Spotify:

Just when I think I’ve said everything there is to say on this topic, someone like Scott comes along with great questions, and I realize there is so much more that needs to be expressed about living the life of a single adult in today’s Christian church environments. 

One of the main things I wanted to express is that singleness is vast and varied. From the young 20-something who has just started dating, to the 75 year old man who recently lost his wife of 50 years, from the divorced single parent, to the never-married person in middle age, singleness is not one-size-fits-all. 

If the Christian community wants to serve its single people well, it needs to expand its perspective and be ready to truly get to know each individual and what their specific needs are rather than treating singles ministry like a monolithic entity, usually geared toward young adults with the goal of marrying off as many of us as possible.

I’d love to hear what you think of the topics touched on in this interview, so feel free to comment or message me back once you’ve listened! What would you like me to discuss next time? What needs to be repeated, delved into more deeply here on my blog, or what have I missed thus far?

On Old Insecurities

It was a Friday night, and I found myself feeling a little panicked. I NEEDED to dye my hair. Now for those of you who know me, you know well that I’ve been dying my hair various shades of burgundy/red/purple/etc. since the 1990’s, so this is nothing new. But I get lazy and also like my hair to be healthy, so I usually let it go a couple months between home box dye jobs and the used-to-be-dark-brown-but-are-now-pretty-grey roots rarely bother me. That Friday, however, I felt compelled to get my hair back to its fresh, bright, new burgundy.

Why that specific day, you ask? I had an outdoor event to attend on Saturday. With like 15 people. In LA. Gasp!!!

Looking at the RSVP list online, I knew the vast majority of the attendees would be friends – people who have seen me in various states of my life, the good, the bad, and the ugly. They are all supportive, encouraging, lovely people who accept me as I am and seem to genuinely enjoy my presence. People I lived life with for 10 years before moving out of LA. But after 2 years of living the life of a trying-to-keep-my-mum-and-littles-alive-during-a-global-pandemic hermit, my brain was off and running.  Insecurities from over a decade ago loomed large and negative views of myself I had overcome popped back up, unbidden. Just – POOF! There they were!

I found myself scrolling through that RSVP list to see who all would be there, and started categorizing the differences between them and myself.

  • They were all thin and/or fit (significantly more so than my plus size self)
  • They were all stylish (ah, fashionable LA)
  • They all had great teeth (well, better than mine, which is not difficult)
  • They were almost all married (all but 1 or 2)

After this quick assessment, my brain informed me that I would be the one and onely chubby single friend, who had never had braces, in the tent-like maxi-dress.

So that Friday night, I texted my sister and bestie that I was dying my hair because I felt super frumpy. Which my autocorrect changed to grumpy. Appropriate.

Once I realized what my brain was thinking (that doesn’t always happen right away, you know?), I found it fascinating. I spent years in my late 20’s/early 30’s coming to terms with my weight and had decided that, for me, it was healthiest to accept being plus sized and move on with my life rather than keep trying to lose weight and have it constantly on my mind, feeding into my already-prone-to-depression self. It was and is freeing. The concern about fashion was an odd one for me, as I’ve always kind of done my own thing. The thing about being one of the only single people there is something I’ve dealt with for 2 decades now, and doesn’t usually bother me. And the teeth thing? Where did that come from? I don’t think that even bothered me when I lived in LA! So weird!

I sat back and pondered these intrusive thoughts and where they’d come from. Since I have barely socialized these past 2 years, and rarely in a large group, it seems to have brought back some very unexpected insecurities. It was more fascinating to me than concerning to have my mind wander to these places it hadn’t for so long. I could look at these thoughts and go “that’s interesting” but not let them get to me. I think the not socializing for 2 years may have some unknown side effects in my life, which I find intriguing. 

As these thoughts were all ones I had processed and come to terms with ages ago, I was able to hold them out away from me and look at them with curiosity, then tuck them safely away with a younger, less healthy version of my past self. 

Yes, I did dye my hair that night – but I did so like I always do, because I enjoy having reddish hair. It makes me feel confident and a little punkrock, most like myself. It looks healthier and is easier to take care of. And I enjoyed it because I no longer felt the NEED to look better. 

The party was enjoyable, everyone (as I suspected) was kind, happy to see me, positive, and non-judgmental. I was a bit of a wallflower for some moments of it, but that is normal for my awkward self and something I don’t mind. And yes, for curious minds, I was indeed the only plus sized person there, and only one of a couple singles. I didn’t actually notice anyone’s teeth, so can’t make a call on that, and they were all pretty freakin’ stylish, but I somehow fit in just fine.

What’s the moral of the story, you ask? It’s not that kind of a story. This is merely a descriptive personal tale of one moment of my life, not a universally prescriptive parable. The only universal truth in this is that socializing is hard for many of us, and can dredge up some past insecurities we thought were gone forever. When that happens, we’ll all just deal with them the best we can in that specific moment, with the capacity and resources we have available at that specific time. Godspeed to you all as you head out to (safely) socialize once again.