Strangely Content

Someone somewhere pointed out to me that peace was no big deal unless you could find it and hold on to it in the midst of chaos. Today, I would have to agree. Whole heartedly agree. People derive their peace from many places, but as a religious (perhaps faithful is a better word?) person I find my peace in God.

There are so many things that are happening around me that I don't understand. I may understand the forensics or the pathology, if you will, but the reasoning...no.

I have so many "Why?" questions that burn through my soul and so far no answers to those. Why cancer? Why both grandparents at once? Why are we having trouble keeping our company afloat? Why does another one of my children need to have an incurable genetic disease? Why am I left virtually untouched? Why can my mother not get out of bed? Why can we not find an investor for prospects as good as these?

Many other things seem to be a matter of "When?" or "How long?" How long will my grandparents be with us? When do we give up on this company? How long until Squib really begins to feel the symptoms of his NF1? How long until it's just me and Dad and the kids kicking around in this house? Will both the kids be kicking around the house? How will I get through that? How will I get through that if its still just me on my own?

Those all seem to be depressing questions.

OK, they are depressing questions. But very real. A weaker person would not be able to admit to those questions. I don't dwell on them because they have no known answers until the situations actually present themselves. And I have a general knowledge of have I have made it so far...

If you have no faith or system of belief, then I can't imagine how you deal with them. As for me, they are merely a portion of the conversations I have with God. I ask Him honestly what is on my mind and heart and sometimes He answers and sometimes it seems that he doesn't. A lot of the time He says "What difference does it make?" That's just as good an answer as any other, but the human being in me rolls my eyes and yearns for a concrete number or specific answer. Perhaps there is none.

To this He usually adds, "Will the answers to those questions really change what you are doing right now or tomorrow or the next day?"

No, they won't.

Then, it always strikes me as bizarre that God operates on a need-to-know basis. The truth is, though, that the answers to all those questions, if I knew them, would drive me nuts. There's a reason we aren't able to know the future. I, for one, would be spending my days trying to prevent all those things from happening and eventually would drive myself into the ground in more ways than one. My gut-level knowledge is quite enough I think, thank you.

Instead, I can go about my life in the best way I know how and rest in the fact that God knows what is going on and is way more equipped to deal with my life than I am. There's where the peace comes. Granted, it's like being in the eye of the storm, but it is, nevertheless, peaceful there and I do not need to be moved from it. Occasionally, I step into the chaos of my own volition and learn this lesson AGAIN and have to drag my sopping wet, battered spirit into the eye to recover.

But it is remarkable that I find myself so strangely content. Even happy.

Enjoying the little things...

...like taking Squib to the town Christmas lighting last night. Simple and beautiful. Mingling with friends everywhere and counting down until the lights flickered on and the square around the courthouse and the courthouse itself glowed with the beautiful clear lights of Christmas....

...or the way I feel when Beanstalk wraps his whole body--arms and legs--around me when he gives me a hug...

...even the way both boys like to sleep with one of my sweaters after I've worn it because it smells like Mommy and it comforts them...

...or the way Beanstalk waves his arms in the air and cheers, "Yay! Yay! Yay!" when he's heard a song he likes...

...or how Squib HAS to give me three kisses before he naps, sleeps, or leaves...

In the face of these supposedly "little" things, how could you doubt the care of a loving God who gives unexpected gifts like peace and contentment--regardless of any chaos you may see swirling about you?

Living off the "little" things,

Scat

Wednesday...Quit Throwing Knives Around!!!

Wednesday at the Scat household.

Hump Day. And I really do wonder where that term originates from. 'nough on that.

By as early as 8:30 this morning the arguments were already breaking out....Squib and Mimi were arguing about exactly how and where a toddler should be when he is being dried off and dressed. I am happy to report that she won via sheer force of will and muscle. Buddy was kinda like me, ducking under the bullets of "wheuhr my sots?!" and "I wan dis, no dat, no dis, no dat!" Step through to the kitchen and Papa was being stared down to the bone by Baba who was waving a turquoise piece of paper at him and emphasizing very heavily that "this time she REALLY wanted him to send in the warranty information and NOT LOSE IT!" That she's about three inches taller than him commands a lot of presence when she chooses to use that. (BTW, he NEVER sent this in and the fridge made an epic fail not three days after the warranty lapsed. Which is probably why he has me do "this" now...whatever "this" happens to be.)

Okay, I'm checking horoscopes now and planning my escape to the office.

Which isn't such a huge elopement because the office is at the end of the driveway. And I got things squared away there and by the time I went back in to see if SqB had done away with the human race, everyone had retreated to their corners and were all quietly stewing in their own juices.

Things are tense, though. So I checked the weather and the phase of the moon before I got to work on the workstation that I single-handedly cratered the night before. I had managed to get it back to where I was at 9:30 pm last night by 12:30 am the night before, but that's a three hour loss and I'm feelin' it. Am I going to mention it? Not amongst this lot!

This morning was a repeat of yesterday, almost ("ohmost" is Squib's favorite word). He, I think, is suffering from terminal PMS. No, I am not stupid. Yes, I know that stands for pre-menstrual syndrome. And terminal refers to death. I mean what I say...the child can't make a decision and commit to it for more than one second. The second, no the millisecond, I start one movie, he wants to watch another....I'd still be there switching movies (which he can do himself but has decided I'm "just bettuh add it."). I stopped that business after our third choice and now NO ONE is watching ANYTHING. You'd think I'd killed him with all the animated and repentant weeping and gnashing of teeth.

"Oh momma, Oh momma. dust fwow me in da twash."

(That last line is his most recent quip).

My Aunt Fanny. Bite me kid. Bring it on. I brought you into this world and I sure will take away your "memote" and your "wovies," too! GO and READ a BOOK. If you've got a problem with that, call CPS! Tell them I'm teaching you to read and I need to go to jail! Music is next, so they'll need reinforcements...that's right! There will be singing and dancing and maybe a craft. Holy cow!

The drama continued through lunch and seemed to always center around the knives people kept handing him. Squib is four. He can learn to use a butter knife or any other kind of knife, but the absolute key is SUPERVISION! And, on the whole, he doesn't really use them (yet), so once the knife-throwing begins there is NO reason to give the knife back to him and I really have no compunction to feel badly for the person who rearms my son when they know for a fact he is in a knife-throwing mood. It was bad today. Like a little chimpanzee at the lunch table and finally Baba could take it no longer and screamed:

"QUIT THROWING KNIVES AROUND!"

I would have added a good solid expletive to the end, but my child was present and I'm controlling myself. Instead I just ducked the out-going knife which (butter-loaded) hit her square in the pants. I stifled myself and made a REALLY feeble try at disciplining young Knife-Thrower. I think I said something like "It's not nice to throw knives AT people" which sparked a lot of questions about what you COULD throw knives at.....Scorpions are definitely at the top of the Knife 'Em List.

Then, as if in a dream, SqB pops up and says "Momma, wut time id it?"

NAP TIME!!!!!! And off he went. See? Mood swings. Definitely PMS!

It was a really short nap. Need I say more?

I was rudely interrupted while trying to make a pit stop in the front bathroom because, "You need to hurry up and help me with the TB NOW, Momma. NOW!" Can't you see I'm bare-a@@ to the wind here? Obviously not, because he waltzed right in to hand me toilet paper, shove me off the stool and flush while pushing me out the door. GEEZ! Like we're saving the world every time we turn on the DVD player!? Glad I was finished doing my business!

Which brings me to another topic...the video babysitter. Yes, I have a confession to make. The TV? Yes, it pretty much runs from the time Squib gets up to the time he goes to bed with few exceptions. Now, we don't have cable or mainstream TV. He may only watch DVDs that we select and purchase for him. So that's only a slight advantage over the completely committed TV-sitter, but he's really always doing something else, too....trains, cars, coloring, spelling, reading (which he insists on doing from one of my novels and does turn off the TV for = scary), and most recently writing. And he sorta "minds the farm."

He's the social director. Knows where everyone is. Greets everyone as they come and go. Gets the low down on the incoming purchases and outgoing shipments. Goes to the mailbox with Buddy. Helps dole things out and distributes TP and mail to their rightful owners (Does TP have an "owner?" Apparently it does. It is always kept in...balance). He'll even gladly tell you when it is you should make your bed--though he neglects to mention this to me :) He knows where his bread gets buttered. Sort of. Well, he at least knows who will feed him "real" Doritos.

But all is not gloom, doom, and arguments around here. I will admit to you, my ether audience, that there are friends and loved ones that make my existence quite wonderful! My weekend with Attrition here was great as usual. I had an awesome dinner with friends Sunday evening. I am actively messaging with a couple friends that keep my heart full and my mind fresh. They challenge me to be a better friend, mom, or whatever-I-am.

Both Squash Blossom and Beanstalk have their great moments, too--more often than not. I love that Squib insists on "fwee (3) kisses" each time we part ( nap, bedtime, Sunday School, going to dad's, moving three feet to the left) one on each cheek and one on the forehead. Beanstalk is growing by leaps and bounds and his love for me is abundant. Full body hugs from Beanstalk are a little hard 'cause he's just gettin' heavier, but I'm gonna give and receive until I just cain't walk no more! My quiver is full so-to-speak and though there are areas that are empty, the emptiness is not so noticeable some of the time because other things overflow and fill it. I can see the day when the holes are full and I believe God will make good on His promises to me. It's so awesome to be loved.

Love covers a multitude of sins,

Scat

Some Days Just Stink

Compared to some, actually to most, my day has been one big frolic in a field of bluebonnets. Sure, I was woken up early and driven crazy. I spent most of the day exasperated and was ready to quit my job several times before noon. Then all the fam started rolling in with their disastrous stories of not being able to spend enough money (gee, what suffering) due to limits on various banking cards. Yes, this is generally my area, but today I just couldn't sympathize with their grousing over having to write a check instead of being able to use their debit card (no, we don't get charged differently). Not today. Today I just couldn't seem to care about such a minor thing. They all got what they wanted.

But today...in a small town I grew up in...some one had a day that litterally came from hell. The "M" family has known us Scats for some time. Their daughter "S" is one year younger than I and their son, "A" is one year younger than attrition. He and attrition were pretty tight for a few years. M's world shattered into pieces last week with the death of his wife "C." Now A and his two sons spent the day preparing for and having the first of two memorial services for C. She was a singular individual. A devout Christian, she worked for a battered children and women's shelter. She also was an outspoken advocate for the shelter. I did not know her well, but most who did remarked that ALL knew her to be first and foremost a follower of Christ. Her care was for the lost, the battered, and for her friends and family.

This puts any petty little thought of suffering or trials I have had for some time now to shame. And even I tell God that while I know he gives and he takes away...I need to see that His name is blessed in this somehow. I know it will be, but after all, I am a child and the request escapes my mouth before I can think.

A was a friend of Attrition's. Attrition is shattered and I have no basis for comfort except to say that this world is not our home. Satan has been given reign here only for a short time. And THEN the God of ALL creation will return and EVERYTHING will be as it SHOULD be.

As a Christian, I should feel a little out of place here. I just don't belong in a fallen world except to complete the tasks given to me by my Father. But, quite frankly, after today I am ready to go home.