Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are full of deceit. Proverbs 27:6

That verse means that a real friend will tell you the truth even if it hurts, while an enemy will tell you that you are right when you are clearly wrong.

I had a friend come over the other day. Someone I really enjoy spending time with, who I respect, and who isn't afraid to be a real friend and tell me the truth (in love of course). Her and her husband have been faithful friends to Brian and I, and I can safely say that we owe a lot of our personal growth to their supportive, honest, and sometimes painful feedback.

During the course of our conversation, she paid me a compliment. A compliment that was so nice, so meaningful to me, that I actually told her to stop talking for a minute. I wanted to take that compliment and wrap it around me, I wanted to absorb it into my being. For one of the first times in my adult life, someone told me something nice about myself that:

• I had no idea was the case until it was told to me.
• Was completely unexpected.
• I whole heartedly believed it to be true at that very moment.
• I did not, at any point in time think, "Yeah, I'm just fooling you, wait until you REALLY get to know me".

There is alot more than that comment that has brought me to this point, but her words will serve as a marker for the moment when I came to accept who I really am. A headstone for the insecurity that held me back until now.

If the wounds of a friend are faithful, how can I describe the feeling of a sincere blessing? I can't, except to say that I am greatful.

I just remembered why I'm not as clean as my mom.

My mom's house is spotless. You could eat off of the floor. The bathroom Floor. The basement Floor. The concrete steps that lead up to the front door. You know how most homes have a unique smell? It's usually a distinct odor that stays in your clothes and hair when you leave. Sometimes it's the scent of candles, or garlic, or the new carpet. The odor in my mom's house? Clean. She always complains that she never has time to clean and do stuff around the house. I secretly think that she must clean in her sleep and doesn't realize it, because her house is ALWAYS clean. Growing up, we cleaned the entire house, from top to bottom every Saturday. If we wanted to go out on Saturday, we cleaned on Friday, or my mom was gracious enough to do the chores on her own, because there was no outing or holiday important enough to NOT DO CHORES.

My house is pretty clean. I like to keep it "company ready". I don't like clutter and I don't like feeling embarrassed when people come over. I like to feel organized and I do the best I can. But I'm not my mother.

On Monday, I had a flashback of living at my mom's house and I decided to give the floors the scrubbing of their life. An hour and a half it took me to clean about 700 square feet. I swept, I vacuumed, I mopped with piping hot water and Pine Sol, I rinsed with cold water, I dried. It was floor perfection. A floor my mother would be proud of.

Then... Yoli came home. She spends the night every now and then. It was dark and wet outside. My pristine floors were ruined by her boots tracks. But it was nothing a few paper towels and a bottle of bleach couldn't get out. Then... Morning came and I was making breakfast. An entire carton of eggs crashes to the floor, landing egg side down. Shells! Yolks! Gooey Whites everywhere! !#$%@& Like the little boy in a Christmas Story, the 4 letter words exploded from my mouth so quickly I didn't have time to censor myself. Then....Today Aimee is enjoying the last of the apple juice. A full sippy cup of it. "Oh OH!" I turn to see what she'd dropped to find her brand new khaki pants soaked in apple juice, and a puddle right in the middle of my once clean kitchen floor. I took her pants off right in the kitchen to keep her from getting juice on everything else. When I turned to get some paper towels to soak up the puddle, she discovered the joy of a wet slippery floor and decided to play slip and slide in the middle of the kitchen.

That is why, even if it's just for these next toddler years, I will not be as clean as my mom. I do not have the dicipline or character to invest so much time into something and not freak out when the work is undone. So excuse me while I go dig out God's gift to the lazy person. The Wet Swiffer.

Stephanie In Spain

Stephanie started her own blog to chronicle her adventures in Spain. I've linked it over on the links column. Don't forget to check her out. Leave comments and feel free to send her stuff. She's feeling a little homesick, so she'll love it.

Also, here are some cute pictures that Stephanie's friend, Emily posted on her Blog.

Worse than a crackhead in rehab.

One of my first jobs was as a mental health case manager. People that needed counseling or rehab would call the insurance company and speak to me, I'd ask a bunch of embarrassingly personal questions and then find an appropriate counselor or rehab program for them. We had lots of pregnant women that were addicted to heroin or crack that would call and we'd put them in a methadone program. Methadone is basically a copycat narcotic that makes the body feel like it's had the drug, without any of the nasty effects of actually doing it. Addicted pregnant woman go to a special clinic every day to take the methadone during their pregnancy to protect the baby from the withdrawal, and it keeps them from actually doing drugs.

All of that to say that I've had a really difficult past few days. After 2 months of eating like I didn't care about my weight, I am back on my weight loss program. It is so much harder now than I remember it being last year.

I know that if I can just get through this week, I'll be fine. I now it's mental. I know my body enough to know that I am, in fact, eating enough and I should not be hungry. However, I am not only hungry. I am crabby, short tempered, slightly depressed, and oh yea did I mention that I'm hungry?

A few days ago, Aimee was really upset. The baby I watch needed a nap, and Aimee wanted to play with him. She was so upset that she actually cried for the entire duration of his nap. Nothing would distract her from the fact that her little buddy was upstairs and she wanted to play with him. A box of chocolate cookies sat on the counter, a few feet away from her. I knew she'd stop crying if she could just have a chocolate cookie. I didn't give it to her. It took a lot to not give her the easy fix, but the emotional eating gene runs in her veins and the last thing she needs is for me to teach her the very behavior that I am fighting in myself.

Growing Up...

This weekend turned out to be really great. I had friends over both Saturday and Sunday. They are both friends that until recently, we had gone years without talking to. After lots of preparation that included: thinking, praying, and blogging; I had the opportunity to really share my heart with my competitive friend. It felt wonderful to speak in truth and feel understood. I am learning that an important step in order to grow up is to have courage to lovingly and with a tender heart be able to confront someone that you care about.

Another vital step in growing up is to accept responsibility and to be able to ask for forgiveness. Brian and I did that with some friends we were estranged from for several years. After asking for forgiveness, the friendships have picked up right where they left off.

I want to grow up because if I don't, Aimee won't have the mother I want for her. It is good that now, I will be able to tell her a little more about what it takes to be a true friend.

Revelation

So after about a week of struggling with this, I realize that the struggle isn't really mine. I get the feeling that one of my friends really looks down on me because of my decision to stay home. She hasn't said anything about it specifically, but her comments and attitude have expressed to me how she really feels. I've been feeling really disturbed by some of her off hand comments.

Before I get into this, let me just say that I KNOW how tacky it is that I'm going to blog about this, but it's really been bothering me, so I'm going to just throw etiquette to the wind and I'm going to blog about it to my heart's content.

I guess one of the things that bothers me most is that she is trying to size up how Brian and I are doing financially, and I get the feeling that she desperately wants us to be doing worse than she and her husband. I don't want to go into details about what she said to bring me to this conclusion, but let's just say that I've had a lot of time to think about what she said, I really do think that I am right about this.

I'm not quite sure about how to handle it. I confess. I've had to really fight with the competitive side of me who wants to win for the sake of winning. I've had to stop myself from asking Brian to move up some home improvements we plan on doing in the next few months for the sake of impressing this girl. I've had to remind myself that the sacrifices we are all making as a family are worth the moments that I get to spend with my beautiful Aimee. And that continuing to work would have been a strain on our family. I firmly believe that the work I am doing now, creating a peaceful and loving home, working on my relationships, developing my inner self, is a greater calling than working for a lifestyle that we don't need. Most importantly, I've had to ask God to soften my heart and to give me feelings of compassion and mercy toward her, rather than feelings of vanity and conceit.

When I had that important job those first few years of my marriage, work was a little bit like a drug to me. I sacrificed a lot in my personal relationships and I began to believe that my value was in how far I could get, how many important people I could meet, and how many committtees and boards I could be on. It was a lonely life and Brian and I don't have much to show for those years. God has changed both my and Brian's heart radically. We recognize that whatever we have comes from God, and we know we are living a life of abundance. Our life overflows with friends and family that truly love us, hope for the future, and a deep love for each other.

I realize now that her insecurity is not my problem. I am not going to play this silly game of who has more. I am officially taking myself out of this competition.

The Struggle

I've been struggling with a lot of stuff lately. I made up my mind that tonight, I would process everything and work it out here, on this blog. Writing usually makes me feel better. It helps me organize my thoughts and as I read back to myself what I've written, I can see with my own eyes the wisdom or foolishness of my conclusions.

However, tonight, I won't have the satisfaction of decluttering my thoughts. Instead, I'll go to sleep with unfinished sentences floating around in my head, waiting for me to capture them and prioritize them neatly on the page.

I will share this with you, I feel like I've finished the first leg of a long journey. I'm happily progressing and feeling sure of my steps. Growing up is so difficult, but it's so good.

On another note: Church was absolutely beautiful today.

Remembering

I began writing this about a week after 9/11 this year. I wasn't able to finish it and as more time passed, it seemed harder to find a reason to finish and post this entry. Today is our wedding anniversary, so I thought I 'd go ahead and post it.

9/11 is a really weird time for Brian and I. As 9/11 approaches we anticipate it with mixed emotions because we met the day before, 9/10/2001. As we listen to the newscasts that play in the background while we clean up after dinner we will catch the phrase, "It's been __ years since that day...." and we say, "Wow, have we really been togather for that long?"

Over the years, we've heard stories about how 9/11 influenced our culture. The return of religion into people's lives, childless couples deciding there was no better time than now, Jessica Simpson and Nick Lechaey getting engaged, it goes on and on...
I've never really stopped to think if 9/11 had anything to do with the speed in which our relationship grew. Brian and I met on Monday 9/10 and by Sunday 9/16 we both had decided in our own minds that we would marry. It took another week for us to each tell our parents that we had met "the one", and a few more weeks for us to tell each other. Both our parents thought we were crazy. My mom cautioned me that such a strong declaration so soon may not be sincere, while his family may have thought that I was a rebound from a failed long-term relationship. However, we ignored the advise of our parents and had faith in the trust we started to build on our 3rd date, which in retrospect, is really a building block of our relationship.

We met on Monday, and went on dates every day from Thursday-Sunday. The night of our third date , while we walked around Buckingham Fountain, we came up with an idea. We would tell each other the most embarassing and shameful thing we'd ever done. The one piece of information that we'd never want each other to know. That way, we wouldn't have to be afraid that the other person would find out and want to end the relationship. If this information was too much for one of us, then three dates was not too much life wasted on something that didn't work out. That little conversation has had a huge impact in our marriage. We are able to live our life in freedom. I don't have to fear that he doesn't love me. He learned what I thought was the most unloveable thing about me in the beginning, and chose to love me anyway.

It's been over 5 years since we met, and today, October 19, marks 3 years of marriage. I never imagined marriage would be so good. I knew it would be hard, and it has been. Working toward a healthy marriage has been more difficult than living in a bad relationship. It would have been easier to ignore the unhealthy, selfish, and ugly in each other. Instead, we have chosen to confront those things head on. Climbing a mountain to the summit is more difficult than admiring it from the valley, but you just can't get that kind of view from below.