I am native.
This of course means family is a very important thing in my life, not in the "families are forever" theme that you hear so much in a predominantly LDS community, but more that you stand by your family, stand with them, be the backup no matter what.
But in spite of all of that, you cannot choose your family. Believe me I know. I have family that I may or may not have chosen in the first place or as Mark Lowry puts it "You'll cry at their funeral but you don't want to go on vacation with them."
But in spite of that family is such a necessary thing. And you always look for those bonds in any situation.
In the SCA we have "households" where we literally create our families around one person. And we have siblings that we adopt. I'm still a member of Wolfhaven, the household of Duke Moonwulf. I was brought in by Lord Sedric Westbrook who is squired to Sir Alan Culross. Though I am really inactive at the moment, I still embrace that name. I still wear my blue belt and take a moment to stroke the dragon favor that hangs at my waist.
You see, when I was taken into Wolfhaven, I was taken into Lord Sedric's family. His daughter and I wore the same favors and I was friends with his late wife. Which is why the grief was so heavy when she passed away almost two years ago. Because I literally allowed them to be my family. To this day I miss Lisa (Lady Audrey) whenever it's late at night and I want to chat online.
Cuil Cholium was family too. Each of the fighters in our group taught me something different. Chivalry, honor, the customs of the Society and many different styles of fighting. The ladies allowed me to spend my time attempting to beat up on the men and then fit flawlessly back into their circle and do needlework, spin and cook.
Women like Joy, Anne-Marie, Lisa, Nancy, Tamra and Theresa taught me strength and judgement on so many levels.
But then I found out that one of the lights of Cuil Cholium had faded when Joy passed from this life unexpectedly. I still have not grieved properly. And sometimes I think the wound from loosing Joy and Lisa will not heal. Because these women were not just my friends, they are part of my family. Part of a family that has bonds far different than blood.
I have a family here too. Bishop and Sister Rice and Pastor Craig and Sister Andrea are the cornerstones of my family in Idaho. Then we add personalities like Justin. Church members, co-workers And the hoop expands even more. The sacred hoop that the Indian people talk about.
Never think that these people are "just friends" (I despise that phrase. As if anything was less important than friends sometimes!) but they are part of my kin, the family that God has created for me in Idaho.
My SCA family are not mere friends, they too are my family. When things happen I need to grieve with that family.
I don't know why I am writing all of this tonight and as it's almost 1 AM, I am probably rambling, but know this.
I love my family that God has given me. The family that was gifted to me at birth.
But God also let me create a family in a place that I wouldn't have had one otherwise and those bonds are strong as well. And I am blessed beyond measure.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Changing Times
So it was supposed to be the first day of school. And part of me feels like I should be getting ready for the first lunch of the year and praying with my students. Or assigning kickball teams for the week.
Instead, I'm at the school checking my e-mail on a computer (my internet doesn't get hooked up til tomorrow) and thinking about work at 3 PM. Selling and working at Office Max.
The ups and downs of the news all summer in regards to school and then I hear the words I'd been half dreading from Pastor Craig "There's no school this year Sister Naomi" I reeled between disbelief and some relief that I wouldn't be living such a crazy pace this year. But I was prepared and now that the decision is made, I am peaceful.
And the journey that started four years ago on the missions trip takes another crazy turn.
Idaho Falls has become my home. It's been two years now since I moved here and I can't imagine my life anywhere else. I have a church that I love, friends at work, a job that I mostly enjoy. What more can a woman want in life?
So I stay in the home that I have chosen. With the family and friends that I have here.
Because I'm blessed beyond measure in so many ways.
Instead, I'm at the school checking my e-mail on a computer (my internet doesn't get hooked up til tomorrow) and thinking about work at 3 PM. Selling and working at Office Max.
The ups and downs of the news all summer in regards to school and then I hear the words I'd been half dreading from Pastor Craig "There's no school this year Sister Naomi" I reeled between disbelief and some relief that I wouldn't be living such a crazy pace this year. But I was prepared and now that the decision is made, I am peaceful.
And the journey that started four years ago on the missions trip takes another crazy turn.
Idaho Falls has become my home. It's been two years now since I moved here and I can't imagine my life anywhere else. I have a church that I love, friends at work, a job that I mostly enjoy. What more can a woman want in life?
So I stay in the home that I have chosen. With the family and friends that I have here.
Because I'm blessed beyond measure in so many ways.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Coming Back to Myself...
There are certain things that always make me feel like I'm reuniting parts of myself. Scents, sounds, etc....
Scents: Patchouli and Lavender (mixed too), the smell of White Linen or Estee Lauder's Beautiful. The smell of a flooded river mixed with grass.
Sounds: Any kind of Baroque Music.
Authors: T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound
Art: Cassatt or pretty much anything in the Western Wing of the Indiana University Art Museum.
These things are usually influences that have made me much of what I am. My comfort time sometimes is Bach cranked (Tocatta and Fugue to be exact) while curled up in a chair with The Complete Works of T.S. Eliot as I try to take apart either "The Wasteland" or "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". ("Do not do not ask what is it. Let us go and make our visit")
Soooo Mrs. Mannix, 11th Grade Honors English. For some reason.
Lately I've been seeing things in muted shades, which for me is odd. I'm vivid, creative and see things in unusual forms most of the time, but I've been trying to get my depression under control again and it's been rough.
But something else can bring me back to myself. Being flat on my face at an altar sobbing my heart out. As I had doubted that my prayers were going to be answered and then I look up and see the answer in front of me as two friends are praying at the altar with tears running down their cheeks.
All I could do was throw myself on to my face and sob as I just said "I'm sorry I doubted you God. I'm sorry I doubted."
So many times, we clutter our brains with our human thoughts and our knowledge of human failures that we limit what God can do with what WE can do.
I'm blessed. So blessed to serve an awesome God that will answer prayers. In spite of my very tiny amount of faith sometimes. He's still faithful to me.
"Though in my heart I have questioned, even failed to believe yet he's been faithful, faithful to me."
When I left Idaho Falls almost five years ago I left part of my heart here. A sliver of it with a friend that probably didn't realize it (and neither did I until later) and part of it in downtown IF. I feel as if I have picked my pieces up anda put them back together. As if I'm whole unbroken here except when I am broken before God.
So now the sight of mountains and the smell of sage and sitting on a chunk of basalt overlooking the river and the sight of so many things mean that I am home.
And that God is good. He ALWAYS answers prayer even when it looks impossible.
Scents: Patchouli and Lavender (mixed too), the smell of White Linen or Estee Lauder's Beautiful. The smell of a flooded river mixed with grass.
Sounds: Any kind of Baroque Music.
Authors: T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound
Art: Cassatt or pretty much anything in the Western Wing of the Indiana University Art Museum.
These things are usually influences that have made me much of what I am. My comfort time sometimes is Bach cranked (Tocatta and Fugue to be exact) while curled up in a chair with The Complete Works of T.S. Eliot as I try to take apart either "The Wasteland" or "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". ("Do not do not ask what is it. Let us go and make our visit")
Soooo Mrs. Mannix, 11th Grade Honors English. For some reason.
Lately I've been seeing things in muted shades, which for me is odd. I'm vivid, creative and see things in unusual forms most of the time, but I've been trying to get my depression under control again and it's been rough.
But something else can bring me back to myself. Being flat on my face at an altar sobbing my heart out. As I had doubted that my prayers were going to be answered and then I look up and see the answer in front of me as two friends are praying at the altar with tears running down their cheeks.
All I could do was throw myself on to my face and sob as I just said "I'm sorry I doubted you God. I'm sorry I doubted."
So many times, we clutter our brains with our human thoughts and our knowledge of human failures that we limit what God can do with what WE can do.
I'm blessed. So blessed to serve an awesome God that will answer prayers. In spite of my very tiny amount of faith sometimes. He's still faithful to me.
"Though in my heart I have questioned, even failed to believe yet he's been faithful, faithful to me."
When I left Idaho Falls almost five years ago I left part of my heart here. A sliver of it with a friend that probably didn't realize it (and neither did I until later) and part of it in downtown IF. I feel as if I have picked my pieces up anda put them back together. As if I'm whole unbroken here except when I am broken before God.
So now the sight of mountains and the smell of sage and sitting on a chunk of basalt overlooking the river and the sight of so many things mean that I am home.
And that God is good. He ALWAYS answers prayer even when it looks impossible.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Interdependency and frustration...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEKGp6WO9fU
"I am here
You don't have to worry
I can see your tears
I'll be there in a hurry when you call
Friends are there to catch you when you fall
Here's my shoulder you can lean on me..."
The ongoing thing with having an Mp3 player is that I have filled it with the world's wackiest mish mash of tunes, including ones that got me through some rough times in college. Including this Kirk Franklin tune, which I caught myself PASSIONATELY mouthing the words in the middle of WalMart LOL.
Bishop Rice told me two weeks ago that I needed to take care of myself to be of value to the church, because I'm a cog in the machine and it will skip if the teeth are broken. Probably not the best analogy to use on the mechanically ungifted, but I got the point.
Right now, I'm watching friends and family doing things I don't agree with. Or not knowing what they are doing. Or what they are thinking. Of course, I'm spending some of my days wanting to completely hide in the sound booth (Don't go too close, I'm not going to be happy. It's a new set of walls) I find that I am still fairly open with my pastor and his wife as well as Bishop and Sister Rice. Lying to my pastor or to the bishop and saying everything is ok when it's not is pointless. They WILL call me on it. (Bishop will usually be like "Quit lying, how are you really")
The problem is that noone else sometimes feels the interdependency or knows what it is about. Maybe because I am in leadership that I feel things so keenly or maybe it's that I'm very sensitive. (sometimes not one of my more endearing qualities)
When someone is not there, it's heartbreaking and things aren't the same. But with my sensitivity I do wonder what I did. It's not the best thing in the world, but frankly it does happen.
My brother Matt and his wife are backslid and I am thankfully spared the weekly heartbreak of that except any other moment I think of my wonderful wreckless brother and his wife and their wonderful little boy. Then it's like a knife turning again.
Then I have other friends, maybe not backslid, but working away from their first love in many ways. Not sure where to go. It is heartbreaking to watch and NOTHING I can do. I want to yell, I want to scream "don't you know what you are doing?" "Don't you know the church limps without each and every member of the body in its place?"
But I can't do anything. Nothing but ignore the lump in my throat when they are not there. Put my head in my hands and pray. Pray that they are miserable when they are not at church. That God draws them to him. That God reminds them when they feel far from him, they moved not God.
It's frustrating. It's heartbreaking. Watching friends that I've made over the years turn away from God. Why would anyone want to leave? Or as PfR sings "I don't understand how you can walk away from love"
Granted, over the years I am not the biggest fan of Pentecostal culture in general. Thank God, it's not the case out West as much as it was back East. I'm a firm fan of home missions churches and that feel. Many times larger churches try to eat each other alive and spit each other out if they are not careful.
I've heard it stated by friends that Pentecostals kill their walking wounded. Let that never be me. Let me fight it with every breath I have.
This is so rambling I know. And it's not something I would've even been so passionate about two years ago. But I'm here. I see how much we depend on each other. So to any of my friends that are looking to walk away, please remember this...
"Friends are there to catch you when you fall
Here's my shoulder you can lean on me..."
"I am here
You don't have to worry
I can see your tears
I'll be there in a hurry when you call
Friends are there to catch you when you fall
Here's my shoulder you can lean on me..."
The ongoing thing with having an Mp3 player is that I have filled it with the world's wackiest mish mash of tunes, including ones that got me through some rough times in college. Including this Kirk Franklin tune, which I caught myself PASSIONATELY mouthing the words in the middle of WalMart LOL.
Bishop Rice told me two weeks ago that I needed to take care of myself to be of value to the church, because I'm a cog in the machine and it will skip if the teeth are broken. Probably not the best analogy to use on the mechanically ungifted, but I got the point.
Right now, I'm watching friends and family doing things I don't agree with. Or not knowing what they are doing. Or what they are thinking. Of course, I'm spending some of my days wanting to completely hide in the sound booth (Don't go too close, I'm not going to be happy. It's a new set of walls) I find that I am still fairly open with my pastor and his wife as well as Bishop and Sister Rice. Lying to my pastor or to the bishop and saying everything is ok when it's not is pointless. They WILL call me on it. (Bishop will usually be like "Quit lying, how are you really")
The problem is that noone else sometimes feels the interdependency or knows what it is about. Maybe because I am in leadership that I feel things so keenly or maybe it's that I'm very sensitive. (sometimes not one of my more endearing qualities)
When someone is not there, it's heartbreaking and things aren't the same. But with my sensitivity I do wonder what I did. It's not the best thing in the world, but frankly it does happen.
My brother Matt and his wife are backslid and I am thankfully spared the weekly heartbreak of that except any other moment I think of my wonderful wreckless brother and his wife and their wonderful little boy. Then it's like a knife turning again.
Then I have other friends, maybe not backslid, but working away from their first love in many ways. Not sure where to go. It is heartbreaking to watch and NOTHING I can do. I want to yell, I want to scream "don't you know what you are doing?" "Don't you know the church limps without each and every member of the body in its place?"
But I can't do anything. Nothing but ignore the lump in my throat when they are not there. Put my head in my hands and pray. Pray that they are miserable when they are not at church. That God draws them to him. That God reminds them when they feel far from him, they moved not God.
It's frustrating. It's heartbreaking. Watching friends that I've made over the years turn away from God. Why would anyone want to leave? Or as PfR sings "I don't understand how you can walk away from love"
Granted, over the years I am not the biggest fan of Pentecostal culture in general. Thank God, it's not the case out West as much as it was back East. I'm a firm fan of home missions churches and that feel. Many times larger churches try to eat each other alive and spit each other out if they are not careful.
I've heard it stated by friends that Pentecostals kill their walking wounded. Let that never be me. Let me fight it with every breath I have.
This is so rambling I know. And it's not something I would've even been so passionate about two years ago. But I'm here. I see how much we depend on each other. So to any of my friends that are looking to walk away, please remember this...
"Friends are there to catch you when you fall
Here's my shoulder you can lean on me..."
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Day Musings...
So it's Memorial Day. Theoretically a holiday of barbecues and picnics.
Unless of course you grew up in a long line of military and then you sit and think. It's different this year after loosing my beloved grandfather who was a veteran of World War II and Korea.
So today, I salute the veterans in and out of my family. I give you this list of the men and women I know and respect. Thank you. All of you.
Irvin Banta (Grandpa -- World War II and Korea)
Robert Stone (Grandpa -- Korea)
Charles D. Banta (Dad)
Irvin J. Banta (Uncle)
Marie C. Wilson (Aunt)
Dana Griffith (Uncle)
Friends:
John Hakes (Korea and Vietnam)
Steve Snyder
Wayne McWhorter
Steve Mitchell
John Stauffer
David Carpenter
Danny Catt
Randall Keller
These are just the names that I am thinking of right now.
I'm defined by the veterans in my life. As a daughter of warriors on all sides, this defines me.
So thanks, all of you. And don't forget to thank a veteran today!
Unless of course you grew up in a long line of military and then you sit and think. It's different this year after loosing my beloved grandfather who was a veteran of World War II and Korea.
So today, I salute the veterans in and out of my family. I give you this list of the men and women I know and respect. Thank you. All of you.
Irvin Banta (Grandpa -- World War II and Korea)
Robert Stone (Grandpa -- Korea)
Charles D. Banta (Dad)
Irvin J. Banta (Uncle)
Marie C. Wilson (Aunt)
Dana Griffith (Uncle)
Friends:
John Hakes (Korea and Vietnam)
Steve Snyder
Wayne McWhorter
Steve Mitchell
John Stauffer
David Carpenter
Danny Catt
Randall Keller
These are just the names that I am thinking of right now.
I'm defined by the veterans in my life. As a daughter of warriors on all sides, this defines me.
So thanks, all of you. And don't forget to thank a veteran today!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Insecurities
So I am here. Looking in the mirror, I am completely different from one year ago. Curled hair, confident look, different clothes...
The thing is, sometimes I feel like the same girl that graduated from Brown County High School in Nashville and wants to hide...
*shrugs*
While I'm confident in my life, there are times that old self comes crashing in on me.
It has recently. When I have a conversation with someone, I second guess it for two days. I make myself miserable thinking I have made a complete idiot of myself and replay every moment in my head. Then when the person doesn't speak to me the next day, I call myself twenty forms of stupid and try to figure out what happened.
Irrational? Ummm yes. I know it's irrational. Just too many people in my hometown, in my old school would use MY words against me. My innocence and my trust. Guys especially. Made me distrustful of all guys except my brothers (and probably why I adopted so many of them).
How do I stop this? I'm trying to break old habits in interpersonal relationships here and sometimes I think I am making progress. But then I find myself going back into my old habits.
Who I was does indeed make me who I am. But do I really have to keep being THAT person who is so insecure that she wants to hide away from site?
Thirty years and sometimes I feel like I have learned nothing.
The thing is, sometimes I feel like the same girl that graduated from Brown County High School in Nashville and wants to hide...
*shrugs*
While I'm confident in my life, there are times that old self comes crashing in on me.
It has recently. When I have a conversation with someone, I second guess it for two days. I make myself miserable thinking I have made a complete idiot of myself and replay every moment in my head. Then when the person doesn't speak to me the next day, I call myself twenty forms of stupid and try to figure out what happened.
Irrational? Ummm yes. I know it's irrational. Just too many people in my hometown, in my old school would use MY words against me. My innocence and my trust. Guys especially. Made me distrustful of all guys except my brothers (and probably why I adopted so many of them).
How do I stop this? I'm trying to break old habits in interpersonal relationships here and sometimes I think I am making progress. But then I find myself going back into my old habits.
Who I was does indeed make me who I am. But do I really have to keep being THAT person who is so insecure that she wants to hide away from site?
Thirty years and sometimes I feel like I have learned nothing.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Desert Rose
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7OGieXHM5g
Ignore the very 80's/90's look but the song...
I loaded a good friend's Mp3 player recently and added this song to both of our playlists.
I don't know what is up lately, but I've started thinking a bit more about what is behind me and what has made me who I am today.
This song was my theme after I left Indiana University. When I felt like my dreams were dying and I didn't want to go back to my hometown. Sister Seniour called me "our Esther" in those days because of an IBC musical at Music Fest (where the line that got me crying was "God why can't I serve you where I want to serve you?")
The desert rose, the idea of something beautiful coming out of some of the dryest points of life is just amazing to me. And that's the nickname that I gave myself at so many points. Amazingly enough, I am now literally, living in the high desert and blooming in a spot where I thought would kill me if you'd asked me ten years ago.
God is good. He's the God of second chances and third chances and fourth chances. In spite of my rebellious streak a mile wide, he chooses to use me here in Idaho. He CHOOSES to see me through his blood and not for all my faults and failures, my thoughtless tongue and my impetous nature.
And for now, that's enough.
Ignore the very 80's/90's look but the song...
I loaded a good friend's Mp3 player recently and added this song to both of our playlists.
I don't know what is up lately, but I've started thinking a bit more about what is behind me and what has made me who I am today.
This song was my theme after I left Indiana University. When I felt like my dreams were dying and I didn't want to go back to my hometown. Sister Seniour called me "our Esther" in those days because of an IBC musical at Music Fest (where the line that got me crying was "God why can't I serve you where I want to serve you?")
The desert rose, the idea of something beautiful coming out of some of the dryest points of life is just amazing to me. And that's the nickname that I gave myself at so many points. Amazingly enough, I am now literally, living in the high desert and blooming in a spot where I thought would kill me if you'd asked me ten years ago.
God is good. He's the God of second chances and third chances and fourth chances. In spite of my rebellious streak a mile wide, he chooses to use me here in Idaho. He CHOOSES to see me through his blood and not for all my faults and failures, my thoughtless tongue and my impetous nature.
And for now, that's enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
