A chain my man likes is having an anniversary week thing, where they have a special for each day this week. So, though we typically go around once a month or two, we’ve gone four times this week now.
Tonight, we had to pick up my car from having work done on it – covered under manufacturer’s warranty, the window regulator broke, if you recall that as having happened just after my jury summons stuff had ended – across town, so we went to a different location of the restaurant.
After we’ve been seated and ordered our beverages and first round of appetizers and it’s all come out, our waiter takes a little time to chat with us. The section is not busy at the moment, so we think nothing of it. (You can tell this is going somewhere now, though…) He asks if we come often tot he restaurant. We mention how we do not normally come very often, but that we have come almost every day this week for the fun specials. We give various details about it, and we all laugh about how ridiculous it all is.
The waiter casually asks if we normally come to this location and if we’ve been coming here all week, and we easily explain that, no, we haven’t. We’ve been going to this other location, which is by where we live and where we normally go. And he says, ‘Oh, so you were there on Monday night,’ and we say that we were.
And just before my man, as is quite common at times, dives into some other comment that kind of cuts off someone else, the waiter adds, “I remember y’all. I saw y’all there.”
……..
My man, somehow, completely misses this casually commented fun-fact, and just keeps sharing about something related dinner that night and the specials we had all had at our table (my brother and sister-in-law had been with us). I dive in about Really?! You did?! You were there?!We’re you working?! And he says where he was seated, just by the hostess stand. I misunderstand briefly and ask if it was on the side by the bar, which was where we had been, with only a Hispanic family right near us that I could recall, though someone else had been there first… At this point, my man is listening newly, realizing that he clearly missed something in the conversation, and he catches up quickly.
We clarify where our waiter had been sitting, and that he had seen me waiting by the hostess stand on my own first, and then with my man, once he had arrived (the wait was long that night, even though we’d gotten on the wait list long before arriving in person), and before we went to the bar to get a round of the discounted drink (and then were seated almost immediately at our actual table). As it turned out, he had wanted to have the special that night – it was $1/chicken wing and $2 (certain) draft pints, though I suspect he wasn’t old enough for the latter – but was embarrassed to go eat at the restaurant where he worked, so he went to the next closest location… where he saw us standing right by his table for fifteen minutes or so. 😛
Pretty silly and bizarre, to be sure, but I’m really glad he told us. He even said that he recognized us immediately, but that he didn’t want to start off the waiter-patron relationship that way, too intensely right off the bat. It was a good call. We would have been fine with it, but it was the safer bet and we probably enjoyed it even more discovering it after establishing a positive rapport with the kid. We ended up having a great time at dinner tonight, and had a surprisingly good time chatting off and on with our sweet (and good quality) waiter. It was really fun, and I’m so glad we stopped at it all worked out as it did.(!)
Thank you, God, for this surprise blessing. Thank you for this life. Help us to see clearly our next step, please. Help Dylan(sp?) to find his next step, especially in regards to University and his own development Persia lulu and academically. In your name, I pray. Amen.
Well, jury duty was a success. I prayed a lot about it, and I asked for clear guidance, courage, and the necessary words and judgement from God and the dear Saints in order to do God’s will and to share his love in the world through me, and I do believe they provided it all. I knew I would be selected as a potential juror – one of those God-granted feelings – and I ended up being the second-to last one called, of 80 people (from a total of about 200 folks who didn’t get excused).
But, because I’d known, when there were only five names remaining, I knew not to think I was about to go home. It was just a matter of which number I was. And that was juror number 79.
And juror number 79, despite full intentions not to speak up about things unless absolutely necessary, spoke up a lot.
Mostly, I asked for clarity on things, definitions, to repeat something that had been read aloud quickly (which half the room could not actually read on the far-away screen in small font – seriously, what are they thinking there?? – in the first place). Sometimes, I answered the questions they were asking, mostly when I had a clear answer to share and no one else was speaking up already or had not mentioned what I then added. For the most part, each time I contributed left me chucking to myself quietly afterward and shaking my head. I had asked for clear guidance and the right words for fulfilling God’s will, and it was quickly clear that God wanted me to be seen and heard today.
I was not one of the annoyances – a few people did it intentionally, and several just didn’t seem to have a clue on many things – but I was involved a decent amount throughout the two hours of questioning from the attorneys. By the end of it, I was genuinely wanting to be on the jury.
It was even a criminal case, which I had feared most beforehand. The subject, however sensitive it may be, was a matter in which I truly felt I could see both sides freely. I have had to sort through some serious crap that was done to me in my life, and that people I care about have done. And I have learned to honor that they did what they felt was the only option at the time – no matter how horrible the action may have been or how twisted their thinking likely was – and that people do not necessarily act maliciously when they commit crimes against others… even the really bad ones. Yes, there certainly are plenty of times that malicious intent is present for crimes in this world – the devil’s work is rampant at times. But it is not necessarily there, and that distinction is well beyond being of little importance, and possibly one of the most important aspects of a crime.
Now, the one place where I disagree heartily with the legal system is that people who’s really convicted of crimes rarely get the actual rehabilitative help they truly need to rejoin society as fully functioning, contributing, and valuable members of society. Often, they are merely given fines and/or locked up for a long time, and then released, older and a bit wiser, but not likely healed from whatever caused them to commit a crime in the first place. That, to me, is extremely sad and unequivocally important. However, that set aside for the moment, as there is nothing that would handle it so immediately as to be relevant today, my mind really went in a direction I had not fully expected for today (though, it did not surprise me truly).
Wanting to be on that jury felt odd. I would not be at all surprised if the defendant had done the crime of which he was accused. But I also would believe that he hadn’t done it at all, or hadn’t done it in a sound mind with the true intention of injury that may have resulted from it. But I knew I could see both sides openly, and that I could call out my automatic judgements and biases rather well – after all, I had been doing it since we’d started the afternoon’s questioning.
I had major biases that came up for each of the attorneys present, as well as the rest of the people in the room. And I intentionally let each of those drop, so that I could consider what was actually being offered to me, instead of my predetermined judgements. One side had a good-looking attorney and then a mostly smooth-talking attorney who asked all the questions. Though I fully love my state, I did not trust these young and clean-cut state attorneys. As I thought about it throughout the afternoon, I came up with a clear way to say how I seem to approach everything and everything: I am respectfully skeptical of everyone (and everything). I notice my biases and immediately look to see how things would be different without them. I typically alter my behavior with my thinking, whenever necessary in those moments.
The other side of the trial had an older, somewhat dumpy-looking (due to fat, not any actual unkempt nature of the man – he was quite clean and together) attorney who was not great with technology (but he figured it out well enough!), and a slow-talking and occasionally bumbling attorney who was clearly not the best at switching between reading and speaking on the fly. My natural instinct was to trust the good-looking attorneys and not the not-good-looking ones, to trust the easygoing quick-tongued one and not the slower one. But I saw those biases and did not trust them as truth. They are merely judgements, and do not necessarily determine what is actually true. Like with the slower talking attorney who struggled with the back-and-forth of questioning and reading his notes and adapting to changes – we all learn differently. Anyone can look like an idiot in the right setting, and anyone can thrive and seem like a genius in the right setting. These men are no exception. One lawyer thrives on the talking, the other does not. It does not mean that the latter cannot make a better legal case – just that it won’t have such pretty words and fluidity as the former’s.
So, anyway, having constantly to set aside my judgements had me realize that I not only could be quite valuable on a jury, but that I wanted to be on the jury because I felt I could be fair in my judgements. Even if the man had done the crimes, if the court could not provide evidence in support of it beyond a reasonable doubt, he is innocent in court, no matter if the whole jury were to think him guilty; he must be declared innocent of the crimes. Taking it one step further, no matter the outcome in court, his behavior going forward for the rest of his life will determine for him what happens for eternity for him. Either he will be with God or he will not be with God. Whatever the case, that part is on him in this life, determined by him and by him alone. We have no say in that. But we do have say as to whether the evidence provided supports one way or the other the accusation given to this man. (And, somehow, that realization this morning made all the difference for me.)
In the end, nine men and three women were selected, and they didn’t even make it past the 50s in the selections. So, though I very much expected to be on the jury, they never even got to discuss me as a possibility. I’d briefly forgotten what I had been grateful to remember initially this morning that juries are selected in order, only moving forward if one is denied – a jury could be the first 12 jurors if no denials arise on either side of the case, however unlikely that may actually be. Ours had the first half of the jury filled by juror ten, at which point I remembered how they filled a jury and was bummed out a bit. I likely was the only person released today who wasn’t really glad to have been released.
God granted me understanding and a change of mind, as I very much anticipated, and somewhat didn’t want. Haha
Now, it was perfect that I’d had the duty today, as it placed me near the car dealership. Just as I was leaving, I cracked my windows a bit to let out the hot air from inside the car. I rolled them all back up a few seconds later as I drove out of the parking lot to head home.
And I heard a metallic-like CRACK!
In some degree, the rear passenger window had come off its railings in a malfunction, and would not slide up anymore. I pulled over only to find that the window could slide casually down and down and down.
Not good.
So, I dropped it to the dealership – because this has to be covered under warranty, since I rarely use the window and the car isn’t even three years old – even though they had no appointments available for the final 40 minutes of their workday. The manager was actually helpful and kind to me, though – I’d never met him before, but I had had lots of struggle with agents in the past there – and sent me on my way in an Uber rather quickly, after a free snack and drink. (I had a soda can of V8 that was just veggies with tomatoes, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.) Someone will look at the window in the morning, and they’ll let me know the full situation. Until then, it will sit inside a shop, with window tape covering the slightly open window. It might be a few days for parts to be ordered and delivered. They would give me a free rental car, but only once they know what’s wrong and confirm it is warranty-valid (versus tampering). So, I’ll have to go back to get the rental car, which is rather far from home. So, we’ll see what happens.
Whatever the case, sure glad I had the jury duty summons today, which put me right by the dealership, and sure glad I don’t have the case the rest of this week, so I don’t have to figure out how to get way out there without my vehicle tomorrow.
Phew!
God sure has a way of helping us to find gratitude in upsets.
While emotionally difficult, the film “The Sound of Freedom” is an important and valuable film, especially for those who have little exposure to information of human trafficking and its statistics.
Human trafficking is a true thing, unfortunately, and, many could say, undeniable work of the devil, as spooky or odd as that might sound. I, myself, had the thought tonight, Why does God allow this? And I realized immediately: He doesn’t. It is not God’s will or work at all…
So, go see “The Sound of Freedom”, a film that portrays rather well the true story of a Homeland Security officer who was moved by the encouragement of God to valuable, illogical, immensely dangerous, and life-saving action. Then, spread the word to upload hotel and hotel room photos to TraffickCam.com in order to help AI help to identify where trafficked people are being kept, transferred, and photographed. They are both small yet significant steps on helping to heal the world and to slow down the terrifying rate of human trafficking, in hopes of eventually ending it altogether.
If you’re ever in Houston, stop by A 2nd Cup, a coffee shop dedicated to educate on and to help end human trafficking. As they say, they are more than a cafe – they are coffee with a cause. And their coffee and teas are actually quite good to drink, too.
In addition to that, love. Please, love. Especially those who are the worst of company, show them mercy’s no show them love. If you cannot show your own love to these people, show them God’s love. The only way truly to heal our world and its many sadnesses and evils is with love. Let people know that they matter – they, too, are children of God, even if they have strayed from His path and will in their lives. It is likely a lack of love that led them astray in the first place. They, too, and they, especially, need love. So, I ask you, please, to love.
Dear God, help us to love, please. Give us the courage we need to help heal the world through your love. In your name, we pray. Amen.
So much energy today, after so much energy last night and so little sleep… has me worn tf out… seriously. I’m too in the middle to be so surrounded by extroverted stuff for so long in a row. I need that balance of the introverted stuff and low energy breathing room. Too much of either is too much. Balance is where perfection lies for me, and this weekend has been way out of balance so far.
I look forward with gratitude to tomorrow and to having much less stimulation. Still won’t be what I fully need, but it will be less, and I am grateful for that.
God, thank you for this life. Please, help me to find the ease I seem to need right now. Help me to release this pent-up strain from overstimulation. Help me to be myself and at ease, breathing fully again. Also, please, keep my man safe and well, and the dog and vehicle and stuff, too, please. In your name, I pray. Amen.
As I’ve started to sit in the space of that I was actually very strongly and negatively affected by the stuff with the gym folks in August, things are starting to shift slowly within me.
We went on a long walk yesterday. Today, while relaxing with a film after dinner, I had a desire to do some arm work. So, I got the dumbbell and did sets of curls and strict presses for a bit while watching the movie.
These might and do seem small on their own. However, I can feel how massive they are by the weight they are both lifting from me. This is the direction I want to go. I so incredibly missed doing intense workouts, I can hardly stand it… lately, it has been hard to stand myself, really. I want these workouts and they make all the difference for me and my mental and physical and spiritual health. I want them in my life still.
And I know I have a lot to release in order to get back into them fully. Nonetheless, I will persist in my efforts to increase my exercise activity levels, as well as to release and release and release, so that I can complete. I have begun to reach a new stage of this strain. Instead of feeling pathetic as a victim, or apathetic or wanting to avoid every or merely depressed, I am entering the rage stage. I just want to scream and yell at them and be mad at how crappily they each did their jobs – I just want the whole world to know that these people failed miserably and neither noticed nor cared how any of it affected anyone else, especially me. The phase doesn’t feel long. I think I’ll just need to say it aloud and be angry for a few days, and then I’ll be able to let it go and move onward. Rage never lasts long for me. And it is always a sign of progress, as it is never my first phase in a situation. So, in this case, rage is good. Rage is very good. Haha 😛
Dear God, thank you for helping me to know myself and for helping me to experience this outrage and anger. Thank you for showing me the love and the responsibility that I do deserve and that does work in the world, such that I could be enraged at how these particular people treated me. Thank you for this opportunity to step away from a community that was no longer lifting me up and improving me. And thank you for whatever wonders are to come as I let this all go for good. Thank you for this life. Thank you. I love you. I love me, too. Thank you. Amen.
When did I stop mattering? Or, rather, when did I stop being good enough? Worth it?
It was, almost, easy for quite a while for me to take care of myself. For me to go to bed early to get enough sleep, to wake up early with my natural body rhythm, to exercise greatly, to feed myself very nutritious foods almost always… to take true care of myself. It took little mental effort for so long…
Then something changed.
I don’t know what specifics it was or when, but something big changed inside. Something snapped for me. I have a feeling it was in August when the stuff went down with the gym… actually, yes, that was exactly it. (Haha. Duh. Already blocking it out, I guess! Better work on completing it instead, or I’ll be stuck in this cycle and state for even longer.) Yeah, that gym stuff really shat on me, for lack of better phrasing.
It’s interesting to see how subtle crap like that can have someone go from physically fit and strong, emotionally powerful, empowered, eager for life, and inspiring to a mere shadow of herself, both in terms of presence and in terms of the physical body. As I said to my mom the other day, referencing my being, my energetic space, “I keep getting smaller.” But the same could just as truly be said about my physical space. I’m down likely no body fat, but purely muscle loss of about ten pounds. I was already at nearly-prime physical fitness when I weighed 124lbs last year. The fact that I weigh 114 right now is starting to be a bit scary. Ten pounds is a massive change when one is only 124lbs to begin.
To add some extra context, when I was athletic in college, I weighed about 125-126. Later, when I was not doing great with my physical health and fitness, and I had gotten very sedentary (but never fat), I weighed 130lbs. Weight fluctuated between 128 and 130 on any given day for a few years. After a year at the gym, my muscle mass was way up and my fat was way down – yes, I did body scans for relative comparison over time – and my weight had only gone down about five pounds. So, in my prime physical fitness, I weighed about 124-125. That’s only a 5-6-pound difference from my heaviest. I’ve been in the same five-pound range my whole adult life. Now, in a matter of months, I am suddenly down ten pounds.
Not a great feeling in the mind.
I also have felt that I am, through allowing this struggle, torturing myself. And it hurts all the more that I can’t seem to figure out how to stop it, how to heal it for good. All efforts so far have been necessary, fear-based, and only meant to be temporary. I know they won’t solve anything, but I also know every little bit helps right now.
I think I might just want to sit with this tonight, sit with this sadness and the open-ended space for what I want to create for what’s next. Something is always next, and we always have a say in it. So, I will sit with this all tonight and see where it leads me for tomorrow’s considerations and inspirations.
Thank you, God, for this able-bodied brain and true logic. Help me to use them well, especially concerning my health and well-being. Help me to let go of the anger and the hurt and the need to fight back and attack and scream and yell at them for being so horrid to me. Help me to say to you what I seem to need to say and where I feel I need to be heard. Hear me, please, and help me to release and complete all of this pain and frustration I’ve been carrying around and by which I have somewhat literally been starving. And, if it be your will, please, teach those people not to be jerks – help them to see the light of you, so I don’t have to feel like punching them in the face anymore. That would be great, too. Thank you for a sense of humor. I appreciate when you make me laugh at absurdities. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. In your name, I pray. Amen.
P.S. If you want to pray for my healing and my completion with all those events last year, I would appreciate it and I welcome the loving prayers. 😉 Thank you, too.
Well, there was a free performance by Houston Grand Opera tonight. The main parts were all played by HGO Studio members, which was quite cool. The whole thing was at an outdoor theatre in the middle of a park by the zoo. Shows and performances there are usually really great, and the opera was no exception. Though I had already seen this opera multiple times, La Traviata, and I had seen this exact production – though with more names, since this one used only the local studio folks who are working on improving themselves for their professional careers – it was still quite impressive.
Firstly, the performers were good. Bigger, though, was the fact that HGO actually brought 18-wheeler truckloads of sets and costumes just for these two performances (last night and tonight). They put a graded stage on top of the stage, then put their set on top of it. I’m not entirely sure they didn’t bring their own supertitles screen that hung up above the stage. And they also had two monitors on the sides of the stage, though out front, so I could see them clearly, but only could just see that they were video of the conductor, as opera usually has for the performers on stage. And, lastly, we got to sit right up front, only a few rows away from the stage. We could see each person and each costume and each bull skeleton clearly. It was great.
Even though we had two life flight helicopters fly over and some ghetto-sounding fancy boom box party that was taking place nearby in the park, it was still enjoyable. Oh! We also had a small incident of sorts…(?)
There is an area of theatre seating in front of the stage there and lots of people sit there (we were there tonight), and then there is the sound booth in a concrete little building at the back of the seating, and then there is a massive hill upon which loads more people sit for performances, picnic style or in lawn chairs on one half or the other.
Now, just at the end of the first intermission, two guys were standing atop the sound booth, one shouting out to the hill. It was quite weird, and we couldn’t understand what the guy was shouting, but it seemed very soapbox-like. Everyone had quieted down for the show to start, and the guy was still shouting. No one white knew what to do about it, and everyone was just starting to wonder what could be appropriately done. All of a sudden, a deep and powerful male voice yells from Hill Left, “Boy! Sit yo’ ass down!” And just about everyone clapped and cheered. The guy then did shut up and sit down, and I chuckled massively to myself at the whole scenario. Ridiculous. Just ridiculous. 😛 And I was also quite glad that it was handled without any violence or police. I had started to wonder if one or both would be imminent. But the kind man had both the courage and the ability to shout the men down and to let the show go on. 😛
Anyway, it and the boom box were both silly, but the show was still great. So, yay!
Thank you, God, for this lovely blessing. Please, bring my man home safely and healed even more from his poker night tonight. Heal us both wholly. Thank you for this life and these beautiful opportunities. Help us to seize them and pursue them fully, fulfilling your will as we become and be our best selves. In your name, I pray in gratitude. Amen.
P.S. I sent this to my man to show him how they, too, we’re playing poker! 😛 He laughed at it. And me. Haha
Has anyone noticed that so many nice people tend to be the people at whom so much of our culture currently seems to be mad? In my experience, the youth who hold the doors open and say, “Yes, Ma’am,” “No, Ma’am,” “Yes, Sir,” “No, Sir,” are the stereotypically declared ‘dumb country rednecks’. And their ‘dumb country redneck’ parents tend to behave the same. They are actually usually very kind and respectful. And they seem to be some of the only ones these days.
It is starting to make me wonder if most of the stereotyping-based hate and noise around them all might truly just be tied to a very small percentage of the population’s actual actions, and be drastically blown out of proportion, quite possibly by people who aren’t willing to step up for themselves and let go of being victimized and making themselves victims to life.
I was a victim of abuse, but I didn’t victimize myself for it. I didn’t make it such that life happened to me and ‘poor me,’ I need everyone to stand up for me now and hate that man and get him back. I didn’t make a big fuss or demand that the horrid actions be addressed by reparations. He owes me nothing. I repeat: He owes me nothing.
Sure, I have trouble forgiving and letting go at times, and I have very angry and aching feelings at times. But that doesn’t mean I bash the man or bring it to the media. How does that make the world better? How does that help me to heal and let go and move forward in life, rather than fixate on the past abuse and keep bring it up again and again? I can’t find a single way it doesn’t harm my progress instead of help it.
Instead, I pray for healing and ask for God’s help. I share what I need to share with those who want to help me to heal. I pray to release my ill will toward that man. I help create safe spaces for others where I had once found none. I help others to be heard and to heal. I help to make a positive difference in the lives of others. I use my terrible experience as a means of making the world better. In short, I love.
And, when I want to hate instead, I remember that his horrible actions come from his own life of hurt, whether he is aware of it or not. And I pray not to hold that against him. I don’t want him in my life, but I don’t have to make his life end – figuratively or literally – in order for me to live mine. The two are separate ideas entirely, independent of one another. They truly are…
I just can’t help but wonder if, instead of throwing out so much anger and hate to people – especially to people we do not know directly but whom we stereotype based on specific interactions with disproportionately select individuals among the group – if we looked for how to solve problems with love, the world would be so much brighter and genuinely better. Like what I said about my fear of guns – if we got to know one another better, it might be a completely different story altogether. The biggest part of the fear – and, thereby, anger and outrage – is the unknown behind that face or culture or lifestyle or way of thinking or way of dressing or way of eating… If we used love as our foundation, perhaps we might find a lot more common ground than anyone ever thought possible… And perhaps the problems would be fewer and fewer and be handled much more easily in the moment through love and communication…
Tonight, I saw this happening, asked about it, was told that she, the one I was asking, preferred Coca-Cola, clarified what I saw, laughed as everyone realized I wasn’t just talking nonsense, and then actually took a bite of the taco to discover whether it was any good.
No joke: these serving sizes for food have been massive. The drinks are mostly somewhat small, when compared to the USA. But the food portions often feel even larger than their counterparts would be in the US.
Every meal, we order food and wonder if we might need to order more later, as we are so hungry and the description makes it seem to be only so much food. And yet, after we start eating, we find that there is almost no way we could eat all the food we’ve already ordered, even if we tried(!).
So, we keep aiming to manage our food better at every meal, and we keep getting surprised at every restaurant by how much food they keep giving to us. Sure, they aren’t the lowest meal prices. However, the dish always covers more than the cost for us, and by a lot.
A simple breakfast plate… simple my a, right?!
Oddly, I can hardly wait to get back home and eat light foods and small amounts of them!
hannah ananas 