A letter

Archive for February, 2013|Monthly archive page

Keeping up with the Jones’…

In Year 2 on February 26, 2013 at 12:05 am

It’s 12:48 am and for the second night in a row I am restless.  Exhausted and restless. My mind is spinning with obviously one too many things.  “What?” You might ask.  I’m not too sure. Everything and nothing all at the same time.  Or maybe it’s just that my soul hasn’t notified my mind of what is causing such a fluster beneath.  I’ve been thinking.  A lot lately, about a lot of things.  What causes stress? Well, the obvious things, such as what we shall eat, how we will pay our bills, if we will make it on time and a myriad of other similar concerns.  But in relation to those things, they are really quite simple.  We shall either eat or not eat, have money with which to pay, or not, and make it on time, or be late.  So other than the majors, what are the minors that cause such unrest.  I was talking with Elle tonight and we were discussing Facebook and all its beauties, which we discovered are few.  We also discovered, or I should say remembered that it has many uglies.  We were dying laughing over the fact that for Sol’s 1st birthday, I, in an array of frenzy, made cupcakes using my neighbors leftover Tinkerbell liners, since I didn’t have the car that day to fetch a more manly outshell.  Poor Sol.  He however didn’t seem to mind, and enjoyed the contents all the same.  This is, as you know a classic Bep.  I don’t do well at planning ahead, or making birthday’s that special.  Al always did that growing up and I was always scrambling.  Not much has changed.  Does it bother me?  Quite honestly, no.  Unless, I start to dwell on the grandios themed birthday’s and galas all my other parent friends have hosted for their child’s half birthday, and 1st-week-wearing-undies-celebrations.  Both of these are wonderful, and especially wonderful for the person who enjoys doing those types of things.  I do not enjoy doing those types of things.   It frazzles me. And, more than that frazzles me to the core attempting to be someone I am not.  I do love a party, but prefer a more spontaneous party. Ha! Keeping up with the Jones’ is so much work!  Who thought up this idea anyhow?  If  I am not wholly secure in who I am, I will spend my life’s entirety trying to make a Hulk Smash cake (so to speak) just to prove I can.  A tiring feat to strive for goals not your own: To please people who exist only in another’s life.  If I am wonderfully made, then God must have known I am a wretched present buyer and cake baker.  But he found that wonderful. Relieving.  The uglies of Facebook and the likes, are really only ugly because we let them be.  Someone posting a picture of a pie should make my heart smile, not make me depressed and despairing.  Someone’s rejoicing over running 10 miles should make me eat a handful of M&M’s and cheer them on.  (well, “make me eat M&M’s” is a strong statement, but a great excuse none the less) It could also nudge me to head to the gym and find inspiration for dropping that last 10lbs I’ve been wanting to shed for a while. We realized the plethora of things this “keeping up” suggests.  Back in the day when the actual Jones’ really existed, it was a lot simpler I think.  They were the few families that lived next door, literally.  When Mrs. Jones swept her porch, you thought about sweeping yours. If you smelled her pie baking, you went ahead and made two, one to bring to the social on Sunday.  We now all have hundreds of Jones’ that live next door.  The amount of delectable dinners and pies we must keep up with are innumerable.  There are 20 new workouts we have to try to get in shape, 1400 outfits we don’t have, 28 dates our husbands didn’t take us on, 60 coupons I didn’t clip and at least a dozen parties we weren’t invited to.  When do I stop and think, not others thoughts but my own, about my own life, and really evaluate in honesty my current state and happiness?  My own husband and kids are quite happy with their life.  I like most of my wardrobe.  I enjoy the recipes I make and love looking leisurely for new ones. (As opposed to conquering Julia Childs in one week’s time) I love thrift store shopping and hunting for things.  I just do.  Leon can count to six effectively, and then jumps to eleven consistently.  He’s just turned 4 and until I saw that another’s child can count backwards from 100 and is only 3.5, was proud of him.  Really, if we were all the Jones’, what fun would that be? What variety would the world hold? What stresses, vice grips, choke hold my joy and contentment?  Why is it so hard to just live my life, and live the one I have well, while being me.  It doesn’t mean I can’t learn, or achieve.  It doesn’t mean I can’t desire new things, or want to make a special cake for my boy.  But if it’s all to prove to someone who isn’t keeping track and doesn’t really care, and it’s draining the live right out of my veins, then what value does it have?

As a parent now it’s funny to think of in light of how God might see us.  If Leon and Sol were identical, it would be strange.  I rather like that they are quite different and each hilarious in their own way.  Leon is the slowest eater on earth when it comes to anything other than sweets and Sol is the exact opposite. Sol hoovers lunch or dinner and slowly savers each M&M. Leon is a talker and Sol is a hugger.  If they were both huggers I would be dying to know what they were thinking.  If they were both talkers I would be aching for hugs.  Why the rat race to be each other then?  Why the constant striving to arrive at someone else’s address when home is perfectly built for me? Maybe its cause we fail to realize the delight of our Father in who we are.  Maybe it’s the lust of our flesh always wanting what we don’t have.  Maybe it’s lack of thankfulness for what is in front of me.

Bottom line: I am on a journey to live MY life. To be the me God created me to be.  Don’t get me wrong, I have much transforming and conforming to do, but it isn’t with the Jones’.

Love,

Bep

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