Twenty-Five Years of Thank Y'alls

     The nephew I mentioned earlier in the week is turning 25.  That intrigued me, because apparently, while my future sister-in-law was pushing, I was at the prom or some other such serious minded task. Yep, My Faithful 14, this year is the silver anniversary of my high school graduation.  I didn't attend the 20th reunion.  I really don't remember why, but it seems now it was for the best.

      I joined Facebook last week.  I don't really have any comment to that except to say, it is what I thought it was.  At any rate, one of the first friend requests I had was from our class president.  And I accepted.  This is where the 'Silver Storm' started.  I looked at Charice's albums from the reunion...

BAD MISTAKE.

It appears that almost every girl in the class is testing out the theory: "You can't be too rich or too thin.."  I don't think I hyperventilated, but...I really don't remember.  I felt SUPER inadequate.  We went to the salon.  I got a cut.  It didn't help. I was helpless to quiet the "wailing,whining, inadequate inner adolescent".  (I could with enough money, but that is what I thought was the essence of the difficulty at the time). I don't look like them.  I didn't belong there anyway. That was Monday.
        I have had a little time to soak in it.  Can it really be that I was supposed to look like someone else?  I mean, be like someone else?  I don't know what all has happened to the people who were in those pics, some of whom were in Mrs. Marks' PM kindergarten class with me.  I had to ask myself, what is the whole picture of my life so far?  What am I?  There are not a lot of resumes or auditions after you become an SAHM.  So maybe we lose track of who we are and what we have accomplished.  So I got to thinking...

1)Love. This blog is called crazybeloved for a reason.  I am, most probably, crazy.  I am still loved by many including God who says:

"The LORD your God is among you, a warrior who saves.  He will rejoice over you with gladness.  He will bring you quietness with His love.  He will delight in you with shouts of joy."  

He is crazy in love with me[and everyone else in the world, but I am content that means me too].  He loves me even though I have a filthy sailor's mouth and I like to watch the Barber Shop Movies and Drowning Mona (honestly, so much cursing, but an hysterical story).  He loves me even though, I am vain.  Sometimes I hate myself and think I am less than nothing...still His love doesn't change.  I can't shake Him off or take Him by surprise. I know because I have done some stupid @#$%.  I mean really.  Stupid.  @#$%.

     I am also loved by my husband who has put up with a lot of crazy.  I am often loved by the Divas-In-Residence, who are 12.5 and mostly hate me because I am their mother.  I am crazy in love with all of these.  I have a few friends who love me and I love them.  And when if they see the blog title, they will say, "Yup."*

2)Birth. I haven't ever given birth.  There is an upside.  Consisting of two things that I feel free to discuss here.

a.It didn't keep me from becoming a mom.  They are mine.  They are real. b.My breasts look much like they did when I was 21.  They are mine.  They are real.

3)Doula. A nurse said I was one of the best doulas she had ever seen...on one of my apprentice births. I don't tend to take credit for what I do well.  She has worked with my mentor and her mentor. Here's to falling bass-ackwards into good pedigree. But really.  It is a miracle. Every. Single. Time.

4)Homeschool. This is the Welcome Back, Kotter of homeschool. AND There is a racist family homeschooling in my community from whom I will do everything that I can to protect my children from having contact.  Including putting them in public school in my totally unacceptable neighborhood school.  Talk about unsafe.  Her.  And her kids. As much as the school.

5)Historic.  We live in the "Historic Overlay" (read 'Hood).  It's a choice.  I lean toward the urban homestead.  Alone.  When Mickey thinks of grass he thinks of the golf course and the girls might break a nail.  This is not a builder home with high ceilings and integrated vac.  It is old and dusty and the electrical has a poltergeist. My kitchen is the newest one I have ever cooked in. My neighbors range from neurologists to drug dealers.  I am within sight of a homeless ministry and the very best Onion Rings in North America.  Friday, they are showing Mad City Chickens @ Remedy. I am totally going.

6)Adoption.  Outside our comfort zone.  For the duration.  I think every person needs to search their hearts for what God would have them do in regards to adoption.  Emma and Mercy are responsible for the depth and the fragrance and the texture of our lives.  Isaiah is coming.  We have no idea which direction this adoption will take us.   God gave me a heart to do with what He will.  If it doesn't get broken, how do I know I was living life on the edge?  If I choose the areas that have the potential to break it, at least I know the direction the heartbreak will come from.  Our hearts will repair and regenerate if utilized properly.

7)Race. Yeah, Caucasian, and card carrying Native American marry and adopt bi-racial and Chinese.  In the 'American South'. Heaven is not going to be all separated out into cultural groups.  I totally don't deserve to run back and forth across the invisible line.  It is a pleasure of the magnitude of worship, food, sex, and driving your car too fast.  If you no longer see the color of your friend's skin, you are deleting part of their identity and making them acceptable to yourself by making them more like you.  Everyone wants to be seen.  Even if we are fish belly blue.

8)Weight.  I went there.  I put it on.  I took it off.  We have a friend who had the surgery and nearly died.  I never miss BL on Tuesday nights.  Those are some big folks.  They are getting the weight off.  No pills.  No knives. (Knives and pills. Sounds like an episode of Dragnet).  It tries to sneak back on when I get too proud to discipline myself.  Like now. I only run if I am being chased.

9) Beauty.  It is in objective thing.  Otherwise, there is no art class.  I don't know if I can trust the people who have called me beautiful in the past(they had motive). Were it true..., I was in no spot to enjoy it at the time. Now that things are admittedly, nowhere near as smooth as they once were, I want to be beautiful on the inside. And deep. 

10) Poetry.  Life is lyric.  No more faking.  This isn't a "too rich or too thin" question.  The truth is that I do know what I am and if I allowed my heart to decide, this life would take my breath away.

Thank you, Class of '85.

*you know who you are**.  

**Go to the bottom of the page and drag your cursor across the words POST A COMMENT.      Chantele.