Trusting her fully and more...

 

This morning my awesome wife and I were cuddling up and talking about our relationship over the years we have been together and how we have grown from hopefully being able to trust each other fully to full trust in each other. 

 

Having full transparency in our relationship has taken years with many bumps in the road. Mind you a dozen moves, six kids, learning to speak up instead of bottle up, financial setbacks, and health issues have a way of wringing out your lives. Those bumps can make or break a relationship. In our case we have made it work. 

 

Before we married, we both had a lot of trust issues. We were both afraid of past relationships that were hard for us. I voiced that I didn’t know if I could trust her fully. Unless you face your past fears and feelings, the future has limits. We are what we fix and the walls we break down to build a castle together. The trust we build together strengthens our bond and opens us up to great emotional, physical, and spiritual intimacy with each other. Cuddling and talking is a great start for a day and another huge building block. 

 

She asked me on a scale of 1 to 100 how much trust I have in her now. My answer, 110%! Yes, that is the walls and bumps out and the castle together. Our castle together isn’t a house built of wood and bricks but of honesty, faith in God, family, and yes, trust in each other. Putting a monetary value on that kind of togetherness can’t happen because it is priceless. 

 

Many years before I met her, I heard a former religious class teacher tell of the greatest gift you can give to your spouse is your heart. Not literally but emotionally, and spiritually. Guarding that with our all. Yet physically guarding what we say, do, and think at times. “Hearts for God and eyes only for each other”. There are things that can break that trust if we allow them in. Be careful what you say or post on the internet and what you text to others. Don’t let that break trust and bonds. ”Therefore, shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” -Genesis 2:24 So becoming one is that trust.

 

The world is filled with lots of plan B’s and C’s. Hopefully you can make it with a plan A. Just know if you find yourself in a second round. Make that second round a plan A. Be someone that can build that trust. When you build it, strengthen it daily. Be someone a spouse can trust in. Build a friendship. Build trust. Know that God loves us and building trust with God helps build trust with others and that includes very much your spouse. Be real, be one, be happy, be fun, and be yourself.

It is what it is! Yep, life skills!

 

It is what it is! Yep, life skills!

 

Teaching your kids that cooking, cleaning, and picking up after themselves is not women's work but life skills that are necessary in functional relationships and families. So, let's fill in the blank from a previous post about a man cooking and washing dishes with a great comment. 

 

“Someone who recognizes that these things aren't 'women's jobs' and contributes to his household like a decent human being.” -Mandy Winter

 

Thoughts from the Crazy Soul:

 

As humans we give each other a bad rap in various ways in this life. Mind you if we stepped back and pulled ourselves out of the picture frame, we view things differently than we would otherwise. The roles of people in a household and family. 

 

Think about the attitude of men and women about what we do and do not do. Yep, we generalize so many things that we get blinded by the negative things in life and the good things we do have get pushed to the curb. I say that knowing somewhere out there someone will inevitably disagree and that is okay knowing we all don’t have the same life skills and experience. 

 

If you are in a life situation that you really don’t like, finding positive ways to change your life would certainly be better. Honestly you can’t have a better life without breaking the cycle you’re in. Now let me explain this. Your spouse doesn’t pick up after themselves and so you pick up after them. That is adding to the cycle of laziness in the world. Now this is a four-lane freeway and it goes both ways. Meaning both men and women can be held in the laziness lane. Mind you I get it but adding to it and then complaining about the cycle is like jumping off a cliff into a raging river then blaming the cliff for not stopping you from taking the plunge. You can’t make people change but you can influence them in ways that are positive. 

 

If you can work a smart phone, then you can also use the washer, dryer, and everything else in the house. If you can read a book about fixing 396 engines, you can certainly follow a recipe. 

 

I know a feller that can hunt and fish like nobody’s business. He can fix a truck and fix equipment in the oil field. He can also bake the best blonde brownies ever from scratch. On the other hand, if you can drive a car a tractor or lawn mower isn’t out of your doing either. 

 

Don’t jyp the next generation with being self-reliant and able to benefit others. Best thing you can give your kids is an education of life and skills, school and books are nice but still very much short. Enabling is a sure shot for failure. For kids to succeed in life they need to be resilient and adaptable so they can swim and tread water when the floods happen in their lives and it will happen. 

 

Keep this in mind. I have kids and grandkids. Doesn’t make me perfect but I certainly have learned a lot of things about life. At a young age my kids and now grandkids are learning and doing things for themselves and as part of my family puts it doing their “Family Contributions”. Yes, I can and practice being a good team player when it comes to skills in the laundry room, and kitchen. I can also fix that 396. In the words of Red Green “if the women don’t find you handsome, they should at least find you handy.” I may not be the most handsome feller but I’m handy. Yes, I do have a few recipes with my name on them and some with use of a Dutch oven or three.

Thirty four years and counting

 

Thirty four years ago this dark hair, dark eyed beauty said “I do”. Not every day has been perfect but it has been a perfectly wild adventure. 

Now being surrounded by 21+ people that give us the happy hope for many others. Some short and some tall, with some large and some small.

 

Over the years we have wheeled and roped our way together. Yep, call us odd by many world standards because we still beat the odds in our relationship. Mind you in the past ten years the percentage of marriages and divorces have both dropped considerably. 

Some things of worth that have helped us along the way; holding hands, hugging often, kissing before we depart from each other and when we meet each other again, expressing appreciation for intentional gestures, and yes, pda’s even when around others. Date night is a thing, yes, even married people should and need to date their spouse. 

Love was meant to be an adventure. It has been for us. Here’s to thirty four and more to come. Loved her then and love her even more now.

Capers, Shenanigan's, and maybe a Ford 8N

 

Capers, shenanigans, and maybe a Ford 8N

 

It started in September a few decades ago. I was born, and a week later one of a few partners in crime, capers, and shenanigans was born too. He was my cousin of sorts. First cousin once removed. Being that close in age ya can maybe imagine the things boys might find fun to do. You could say there were a few grown-ups we drove crazy at times. Even an older couple of girl cousins were known to get after us at times.

 

Hiding from my auntie was a big starter. Various places that were always great were the grape vines, the roof of the house, and the food storage room. She didn’t beat some butt’s but she scolded like crazy. Later on, we disappeared to the back Hollar a lot. Always some cool places to hide and hang out.

 

I remember a summer full of adventure. Some people ask ya how ya learned to drive on a road with a mess that you had to make evasive maneuvers. Well, kind of did a bit of cow chasin’ with an older Ford 8N tractor. Anyone out there that has ever been on one knows the joy. Ya get two or so young’uns on a tractor and you’re holding tight to that metal seat hoping to stay on. Mind ya back in that day, back roads were backroads and stop lights were a rarity. Ya know boys get hungry for fries, onion rings, burgers, and the likes of it. That Purple Turtle has some good eats and well there could have been an undocumented visit with said young’uns there. Mind you walking there didn’t happen if you catch the idea. Considering it to be before the internet and traffic cams could have been good for saving a few back sides getting lit up. Now some may well have not known about said capers but you know there may be few if any photos and video of back then, so you will have to make your best guess if there be any truth or embellishments out there. Country boys and girls, tractors, trucks, and fun times.

 

Ropes, webbing, and carabiners have always been a kid’s best toy. When ya have rope and stuff you look for a place to hang off a rock and the bigger the better. Rappelling is an adventure that puts one in places of rounded large stones. Some rocks are a bit farther up a hill that others. Some have a lot of thick bushes between them and the road. After climbing up the hill it seemed logical for a path down to be cleared a bit. So, think as we did, rocks, hill, gravity, bushes, and trail. You see the walk down was a bit less difficult. The road had a few slaloms markers left as some didn’t roll a crossed the road as planned. No blood, no foul, and no one died.

 

That hallor was a fun spot as well. Tons of trees and bushes with a stream. Made a great place for a swing and swimming hole. Can’t say we always remembered a pair of trunks but well it was hot and the water was fantastic so ya do what ya do. Many a hot dog and marshmallow roasted in the fire pit there. Slept out there many a night visiting my cousin. Hide and seek, steal the flag, and kick the can too.

 

Many more capers came along over the years. May you find some more capers, shenanigans, and adventures in the next life before I get there Randy so we can worry a few people there also. Heaven can’t be fun without a few capers and shenanigans to spice things up.

 

Home!

 

Home, what is it? Home is one of those places that is a place but also a feeling. Let me ramble a bit with this. Home is often the place we hang our hat and coat inside the door. Yet, we call some places home on a temporary thing as we travel or move about. I add that home can be more than one physical place at the same time. Yes, it is a feeling that we belong too.

 

I have lived many places over the years. Some I called home and others were a mere stop and reload. Thirty-ish years in southern Utah at various locations. Some of those years far enough back that I didn’t remember much, except maybe a rock covered house and a cool irrigation ditch. Other places that I have lived there lasting memories. You just can’t remove the small town in someone. I have packed and moved a bunch and ya know home then becomes a new thing. Packed up and moved four times in one year a few years back and ya get the “New Home” feeling a bit scrambled.

 

Home can be that place you raise a six pack of kids in a couple of decades. More than just the house you live in but the street you’re on and the people living around ya. Those memories of home as a place and a feeling there fill a large basket. I have been told since then “We sure miss you” and “your home isn’t the same without you in it”. The people there are hard to forget but the new people you meet are great also. We (my family) consider it home in that area for the memories and that a few of my kids have stayed there for a season. Some of those memories are of a nice place called “Benson Creek”.

 

Many of those places along the path of life that you just stop and reload span the country for the west coast to the gulf coast and in between. Some felt like home because of the people I met there.

 

Yes, I will tell ya that home is where your Mama is! I tell ya even though my mama would now and again send me to the willow patch to cut my own switch she does have a feel of home being around her. Maybe not just your mama but grandma, aunties, cousins, and past friends. Maybe that is where ya attended some schooling in life or for some you got schooled a bit. Maybe that could well include your first date, first kiss, or even your first “gonna die of love break up”. Days spent hiking, fishing, hunting, camping, rappelling, and jumping bicycles built from the junk-yard off a six-foot ramp. Horse swings in the park and a slide that got so hot ya scorched it sliding down it. Even a few nights skating in the “Pod”. Not to be left out an Independence Day celebrations like no other.

 

Home will often change with time, place, size and feel. Home could be a house of four thousand square feet with closets so deep ya get lost to a comfy little house just over a thousand square feet you can clean in a day after the grandkids visit. Love those little hands and feet. Home is where my heart is and it is truly with my awesome wife and family, no matter the location we may be at, at the time. Truly, if you have food to eat, a roof over your head, and people that love you then you are blessed and at home.

A True Eye Opener!

 

A TRUE EYE OPENER!!

A friend came to my house for pie, we sat down and talked about life. After a while I interrupted the conversation and said to him, ′′I'm going to wash the dishes, I'll be right back.”

He looked at me like I told him he was going to build a spaceship. So, he said to me with admiration and a little stumped, ′′Glad you help your wife, I rarely help mine because when I do, she never thanks me. Last week I washed the floor and she didn't even tell me thank you.”

I sat back down with him again and explained to him that I don't ′′help′′ my wife. Actually, my wife doesn't need help, she needs a partner, a teammate. I'm her home partner… and due to that, all functions are divided, which is not “help” with household chores.

I don't “help” my wife clean the house, because I also live in it and I need to clean it too.

I don't “help” my wife cook, because I also want to eat and I need to cook too.

I don't “help” her washing dishes after eating, because I use these dishes too.

I don't “help” my wife with kids, because they are mine too and it's my duty to be a father.

I don't “help” my wife wash, extend, fold, and put away laundry, because it's mine and my kids too.

I don't give a “helping hand” at home, I'm part of it.

Then with respect I asked my friend when was the last time after his wife finished cleaning the house, doing laundry, changing the bed sheets, bathing the kids, cooking, organizing, etc. and did he say: “thank you?”

I mean a real thank you, like, “Wow, baby!! You're amazing!!"

Does this all seem absurd? Does it sound weird to you? When, once in your life, you cleaned the floor, you expected at least an excellence award with great glory... why? Haven't you ever thought about that?

Maybe, because for you, macho culture taught you that everything is a woman's task.

Maybe you've been taught that all this should be done without you having to move a finger.

So, praise her as you would like to be praised, likewise, with the same intensity. Hold her hand and behave like a true companion, and assume your part, don't behave like a guest who simply comes to eat, sleep, shower and satisfy sexual needs... feel at home, in your home.

Change in our society begins in our homes, teaching our children the true sense of fellowship! Make it happen at home…

The spoon theory- C Miserandino and my thoughts

 Some years ago I came across this and it hit me as I have had a personal battle with Arthritis and Fibro (FMs). I would say this is the best way to describe most if not all chronic issues.

The Spoon Theory by Christine Miserandino www.butyoudontlooksick.com

 

My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.  As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed, she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?  I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn't seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.  As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being affected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity? I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try. At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; hell, I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.  I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.  Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So, for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.  She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become?  I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of "spoons". But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn't even started yet. I’ve wanted more "spoons" for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus. 

I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said " No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self-something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can't take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too." I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever, I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out, I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.  I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s "spoons", but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less "spoons". I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So, you do not want to run low on "spoons", because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.  We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.  When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.  I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset, I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse than others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared” It’s hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day's plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count "spoons".  After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can't go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”  Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory, they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my "spoons".

I pass this along in hopes there are others needing an explanation. The Crazy Soul*