Last night was Halloween

Last night must have been Halloween because I was not myself and either was anyone
else.
We were all running around masquerading as other personalities.
My husband was a jock.
My brother in law was a scary man.
My mother was a ghost
My sister was the village idiot.
And I was the bride of Frankenstein.
My world was upside down.

It all began when the sun set. The transformation of all the characters in my life for the day was about to take place. The important event of the evening was about to begin. Football. I left my soon-to-be unGodly house of horror before it could get started. Went straight to the most sanctuary I could imagine in my life. Mother. When I get there my husbands brother is just arriving at my mom's house having had a mix up in communication with my husband as to where to meet for this heathen ritual. I say to him that its at our house and try to direct him from where we were. He is exasperated and a little angry. I am not accustomed to that from him. I watch him drive away up the wrong street and follow after. I get in his way on the road so he won't miss me and it appears he is going to drive right into the side of my car, such a hurry he was in. He is inches away from my vehicle and I barely get the words out "follow me" and he is moving on so I pull my car out fast and lead the way to my house. He is definitely not himself. In the car on the way to a restaurant my mother informs me that my sister has decided to go back to the devil himself(her abusive husband)and that she, my mother, had cried most of the day. Sitting in the restaurant I am stunned by bad news and my mother is only a pale shade of herself. I feel cold and shivery all through the meal as the hostess has seated us somewhat near the door. We leave eventually to go to her house and pass a little more time until the show of caveman fighting-for-the-ball, is over. She pulls out a movie she had made of us children when we were young.
I sit and relax knowing what to expect and feel comforted. But at the end I am
jolted into suffocation by the added footage of my marriage to my first husband.
In those few short scenes I am reaquainted with my past of friends and X loves as they were all in attendence. I am very upset by now with emotions I cannot explain and my mouth is saying "Oh my God, Oh, Oh my God. I feel like I can't breath"
My heart is racing and my head is reeling and I want to shut it off and I also want to see it all again.
I remember that I loved this brilliant, crazy, abusive man.
I was the bride of Frankenstein.
I want to freeze every frame. Simultaneously I never ever want to remember a bit of it but pandora's box has been opened. Could my world be more strange than at the moment I wondered? Nothing is right. I'm driving home in the dark and want to keep on driving. I am listening to some song on the radio that has a heavy beat and I am trying to get lost in its sedating rythym. I get home and there are too many cars in the driveway and I have to park on the lawn. I am lost. I am not home.
It is Halloween night and my husband is a jock.
My brother in law is a scary man.
My mother is a ghost.
My sister is a village idiot.
I am the bride of Frankenstein.
I go to sleep with no comfort to give and none to receive for I would not take it from a jock. My choice.
I go to sleep and I am dreaming of marriage and weddings and I dream I have found the perfect man until I am about to wed and I find that he is a woman. A beautiful woman.
I am so confused in my dream.
I wake.
Nothing is normal this morning for me.
I Look for rightness in my world and I find cold and wind outside.
Then I realize........
Today is October 31st and Tonight is HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday Morning Blog Blog Blog

So, last night my daughter called me with a crisis.
I was sitting in the car with my mother and husband at the time.
Cell phones create a whole new world of eavesdropping opportunities that allow us
to find out how others live and communicate.
I was a little bit, just a little bit, inconvenienced as I wanted to talk on the way home with MY mother.
But everytime I hear the subject matter my daughter wishes to discuss I inevitably
get caught up in the drama.
I feel what she feels and I worry for a while.
Objectivity hard to find, I still regale her with my best objective advice because
I think that is what she wants from me.
I am pretty sure of that.
I am not always sure, however, that I am right but when my mothers voice in the back round is heard cheering me on I think, "Oh good. She agrees".
The conversation starts to wind down and my daughter starts to feel a little better,
I think.
So, as I am listening to my daughter talk about more chit chat type of things my
listening ear is distracted by my mothers conversation with my husband.
She is saying that she finds it so jarring and strange to hear me counseling my own daughter and to realize that I am a mother with a daughter of my own.
She says I will always be her baby and she does not really comprehend how old I am.
I am 44 years old and my daughter is 25 and she has a daughter who is 6.
I am feeling old.
So, does this shock to my mothers system mean that no matter how old you get you
never really get it?
She has been staring at me a lot lately.
I know she is proud of her beautiful daughters but I think I see a new look in her eyes.
Maybe she is comprehending more and more what little time there is left.
I don't think on it too often.
But I am looking at her more and more and realizing that time is going too fast.
We don't have forever on earth.
I cannot fathom life on this earth without her.
Sometimes she looks so young to me.
Especially in shadows with light behind her.
I think it unfair that we cannot be like Merlin and youthen as time goes by and end
with newness of life as we head toward eternity.
Afterall, newness is where we are headed at the end of our age if we believe in Christ.
Anyway, I see you mother.
I know you see me.
I love you so and I am trying not to take one moment for granted.
Thank you for giving me a life in God that assures us that we won't be parted
forever when the time comes for you to leave us.

Good Question

I have been challenged just lately with the comment that
"whatever you imagine you need to do to get God's love and pleasure is the very thing you will expect of others." (They will need to do the same things to please
you and God.) I guess that is what was meant by what I heard.

So, I've been thinking.......OH NO! dangerous thing.
My husband can tell you.

I have a hard time with this thought.
I have asked myself over and over what it is I think I have to do to earn God's love.
I know for sure that I feel loved by Him when He is paying me special attention.
I love to get God's attention. Hmm...By being bad?
Getting myself into a fix that only he can make right? Hmmm...
The speaker said that he needed to be good at sports to earn his Daddy's appoval.
So as an adult it was basically anything he did well and earned man's attention was getting attention from God. He measured his performance.
I think we all do this from habit somewhat. No matter the motive.
But I know there lurks inside a secret way I have of getting Gods approval.

Soooo if my childhood was fraught with abuse for the slightest infractions and otherwise basic invisibility.....
And we are known to view God like our earthly father.......
I would say that I must need to behave impeccably and be stunningly noticable.
But do I really think that makes God pleased?
Maybe.
And do I need my significant others to behave this way too?
I asked it of my children. Hmmm........
I may be on to something.
What do you do?

Poem from 2002

THE ABYSS

WHEN ALL THAT WAS HOPE IS DARKNESS
AND ALL THAT WAS DREAMT IS ASLEEP AND
I STAND ON THE BALCONY LOOKING OUT;
LOOKING BACK AT MINUTES, YEARS, WASTED
PEERING INTO MIRRORS OF MEASURE;
STEPPING ON SCALES OF VALUE AND WORTH;
LOOKING INTO EYES BEFORE MINE;
EQUALLY LOST IN BARREN LANDS OF RAGE AND SELF-DISGUST;
WRITHING IN SLICK MUDS OF NARCISSISM;
THEN WILL I LOOK FURTHER
OVER THE EDGE
INTO THE ABYSS OF
DESPERATION THAT IS HELD BACK BY LITTLE MORE THAN THE
WOOD RAILING PRESSED IN AGAINST MY SIDE
AND THERE
IN THE DARK OF MY FAILURE
WILL BE THAT WARM, FORGIVING BREEZE
RISING UP FROM THE VALLEY TO CUP MY FACE
AND BRUSH BACK MY HAIR TENDERLY
LIKE THE WEATHERED AND GENTLE HANDS OF JESUS.

Confessions of a Recovering, Vain Egomaniac

I am a beautiful woman. Ask God why. I did not ask for it.
I was unloved and rejected by my father. Ask God why. I did not ask for it.
The results........so typical.
Now I am in constant acquaintance with vain egomania.
Early on I learned that the way to get any attention at all was to be as pleasing as possible.
I was not sexy. I did not wear makeup until I was 18.
I did not even know how to flirt.
But I knew how to make you feel good.
It did not hurt that I was so physically endowed on the upper level but at such a young age it was still a mystery to me what ardent pursual it invoked.
I thought I was ugly. I knew I was fat.
Why then, were my friends jealous of me?
"You think you should have all the boyfriends" they would say to me.
I did think that.
But I really would rather have had my father love me.
I did not know what was attracting these boys.......and men.
I know now.
I needed you.
I needed each and every one of you to love me and it was written out in bold
letters on the front and back of my shirt.
What an aphrodisiac.
And I WAS beautiful but did not know it.
So convinced was I of my uselessness and homliness.
Then at age 15 or so I was literally taught the art of flirtation.
What a useful tool!!!
Then at 18 I discovered makeup. Another useful tool.
Then I go married.
For seven years I was ugly again, abused and unloved.
And definitely, I was FAT.
As the grip of abuse was loosened by divorce I grew thin and beautiful.
This time, I knew I was beautiful.
I don't know how I knew but I knew certainly.
Dangerous knowledge for one who is so wounded by years of abuse.
Thus began years of the pursuit of love, love, and more love.
Vain love, physical love, mirror love, diet love, jealous love, controlling love.
Obsessions all. But I LOVED them. Strongholds all. But I LOVED them.
This was WHO I was because this was all I knew.
I could not conceive of more value than that within.
It was the only thing that worked for me.
Many years I stayed in denial about the use of my femininity and sensuality to draw men to me. I felt innocent.
Men were scum. All they wanted was one thing anyway.
I could pass off blame to them and be lily white.
It is a secret to certain women who have been abused just how to be so pleasing.
I cannot tell you how it works.
It has mystified many including myself.
And then, there is so much that I am not responsible for.

A short story.....
One day I was talking with my sister in law and she told me that she thought I was responsible for ALL the attention I got. I brought it on she said.
I was in denial still so I argued. But I still knew that I need not try sooo hard. There were many flirtations that day.
She pointed that out. But one incident happened when we
came out of the drug store and we slipped into my car. We were
pulling out and around the corner. A couple of guys waved at us
excitedly and so we waved back. She asked, "do you know those guys?"
She asked this with exasperation in her voice.
No. I didn't. I seized this opportunity
to say SEE???????? It isn't always me.
Guys just love beautiful women. And after all,
she was in the car too. Guilty! She is beautiful too.

The End

Years have passed and God has revealed to me my inner heart.
The woundedness is fading but I am left with some risidual effects.
I am still afraid of rejection to a point but now I am confrontive and bold.
I won't do things I should not to please you. (Most of the time)
I don't believe your love will complete me.
I know that my beauty comes from God and it is deeper than my skin.
Who I am is NOT what I do or what I look like.
God heals me more and more everyday.
I am more reliable and trustworthy and responsible.

There is only one thing left.......my makeup.
If that ever gets taken away I will really hurt bad.
The withdrawal symptoms would rival that of the worst case alcoholic.
Women, I know you can relate. Confess.
Lord, bless and heal all the vain egomaniac women of the world.
Thank you God for what you are working in me.
Don't stop.

My daughters & Grandaughter

The Ghost of Mother

I stood on the front porch one day and started calling "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty,........"
The word flew from my mouth in such high pitched quick succession that it sounded more like an indian woman's mournful keening than a house wife calling in her cat.
My kitty came tearing accross the lawn in anticipation of either love or food or both.
My husband looked at me so strangely as I picked up the cat.
Then he asked "how do you do that?".
"You mean the way I call the kitty?", I said.
"Yeah, I can't do that", he said as he gave it a try.
It came out sounding like a 14 year olds puperty voice breaking and changing pitch.
I figured it was sort of a unique talent after all.
I felt proud as I recalled where this talent came from.
My mother was also endowed with this talent among so many others.
How often had I heard her call this way from the front yard or front patio of our house for the many cats in our childhood?
Standing there, I felt I could be her.
A shadow. A variating replica.
The thought of it was spooky but I liked the idea that my mother does live on even after she leaves us someday.
I WILL carry on thus will my mother.

I have two daughters.
One seems more like me than the other.
Certainly they both resemble me in a pretty big way.
I cannot say that I thought much about whether they would carry on anything in my way but when I see similarities I am proud and pleased.
Certainly I am haunted by the difficulties that parallel mine.
I try to let them go in all ways to be their own person.
As they get older and time slips by the pain of "empty nest" seems to increase rather than decrease as it traditionally should.
No one told me it would be this hard to live without my "family".
Perhaps I wasn't listening with my heart.
But I come to understand what harbor there is in the community of family.
Doing without is like living on a desert island.
So, being just a few hours drive from 3 of my children I do take opportunity to see them as time permits.

My grandaughter just had her birthday.
My husband and I stayed at our daughters home.
It is a cute little place full of the warmth of an "Arends" person.
I tell her the same thing my daddy told me one day.
"Your home is very comfortable to me because it reminds me so much of the way your mother keeps her home."
(Some of the kindest words he ever spoke to me)
But my daughter does seem to emulate "home" as she knew it.
More than she means to, I am sure.
I never felt the hope of me and my mother living on so much I did on one particular morning at my daughters house.
I lay in her bed waking up from a warm and cozy night of sleep.
I stayed under the covers in a dreamy state just listening to the sounds of the morning while others were waking up in the household.
The floors squeaked from my daughters padding feet and I felt right at home.
From a place far away in my mind I heard the front door open and my young daughter
calling in high pitched, quick succession "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty......."
"Lord, I couldn't love her more than now."

God's art work through my eyes

Caught red (leaf) handed

For David

Warm & spicy

fluff & stuff

more pics

Nelson's Country Store

I have this way cool store in which I sell gifts and home decor that caters to those who love country things.
Every time I step into it I am greeted with the smell of wonderful scented candles and that musty smell of antique walls and furniture.
I play music (which I sell) that is reminiscent of all different era's that bring back pleasant memories.
The CD's play in an antique reproduction stereo that sits near the old glass case in the center of the store which has atop it an old country register and baskets of sweets.
Candles are lit and lamps are aglow.
In holidays and winter we hand out warmed cider spiced from my own recipe.
Behind the front store is another old house that we have converted to feel just like an old farm house kitchen.
Farmers tables sit in the middle next to an old wood burning cook stove.
Jams and jellies and mustards made by the amish are for sale on the country cupboard.
Chickens abound in every shape and size.
Dishes and baskets and throws and quilts are everywhere.
The next room over is a victorian/cottage space.
It is warm and bright with vibrant florals and fluffy feminine things for those less rustic in their tastes.
Dolls and tea sets and roses and lace are only a few of the delicates.
On certain days you will find Cindy, the neighborhood beauty asleep on the white antique bed on top of the intricate floral quilts.
But lest you misunderstand....Cindy is the neighborhood cat.
A gray fluff ball whom everyone adores.
Moving to the next room I create a very different atmosphere with spicy colored walls and rich colored linens for any table setting.
All sorts of placemats and napkins and towels plus rugs and curtains.
It has a very warm and earthy feel. Golds and reds dominate.
The last room of this house is the bathroom which houses our best seller of soaps and lotions that are made from (get this) goats milk that is gotten from the goats this woman raises on her property.
It is a fragrant and sweet little space.
On the whole, this store of mine is a creation that makes you feel things.
This is what I hoped to create.
It is what I enjoy about other stores I have been to.
I want an experience.
I want to give others an experience in feeling harbored, parented, serene, and most of all leaving with a gift in hand that will please them and myself.
What better way to do all this than to take them back to the sights, smells, and sounds of a home they remember.
Vanilla's and apples and cinnamon spice.
Melancholy melodies and jumpy little jives.
Creaky wooden floors and flames in the stove.
No matter how young or old the person who enters those doors there is not a one who does not relate somehow to something within.
Some traditions just won't die.
So, I feel good to have contributed something.
The responsiblity is more than I would have dreamed but I do it.
I cannot drop the ball.
I miss my freedom and I'm tired a lot but this is the job that I have been given to do. I am isolated, ironically.
Meet so many people and yet feel so apart.
Many envy what I do and ask me "Isn't this so much fun for you?".
I wish it was more.
I have many, many good days but there are so many more that are not.
Fulfilled dreams do not a happiness make in all cases.
And ooh gosh does it make me angry when a smart/snide person will occasionally haggle with me on prices like they were poor and I was rich when we are both neither and we both know it.
Money? I haven't made any yet.
Not to keep.
It all goes back into product and debt.
I will not see any for a few years I imagine.
But meanwhile, Nelson's country store is here on Main st Corvallis.
Something I did.
(I) did it.
And its for you.
With love from Rebecca Nelson

Nelson's Country Store

Church

I'm in it again.
Church, that is.
It seems I cannot stay away.
Today I learned that to discover oneself we need others.
Relationship is paramount.
Not long ago I heard the same thing about God.
In order to discover more about God we need others.
Why did God design us with this need for vulnerable interdependence?
It really pisses me off sometimes that I cannot be that proverbial island.
But I would argue that church is not necessarily the place for this cathartic
growth caused by interaction with others.
Not the traditional church as we know it today.
Relationship is nearly impossible in such an environment.
Even the most "Holy Spirit" led churches.
Why, oh why I beg to know, must there be one man that must get up and run the show.
Exactly that. A show.
Doesn't the holy spirit honor other men or women of God
if they should raise their hand to say "Holy Spirit come and be here"?
I venture with a little fear and trepidation to put this forthcoming statement on my blog at the risk of sounding judgemental.......
I believe in my heart that the majority of men/women who are pastors, priests, etc. are egomaniacs.
Very few go into this "calling" kicking and screaming realizing the price there is to pay like Moses did.
If God irradicated the activity of preaching on Sunday morning I think we would see fewer men looking forward to "ministry".
To be nameless/faceless or not noticed for their words/deeds would certainly weed out the false and ambitious.
What if it were a pastors job to stand behind a curtain in the back and delegate to others everything that needed to be done and no one was allowed to know who he was?
(were it possible)
I believe they would not do it!!!!
I dream of a church that belongs to the people.
And in saying that I mean that I dream of a church that belongs solely to Jesus
Christ himself where only He was exalted.
I dream of a church that would allow me to know others and to be known.
How will this happen if no one else is allowed to speak their heart but one man.
But I'm in it again.
Church, that is.
It seems I cannot stay away.
I guess I want to be there when my dreams start to come true.
Because I don't believe God will let this "show" go on for much longer.
Church will become pure unadulterated worship for God and love will break the spell.