Identity

I always say this.  I always say how I haven't been on here in nearly a year.  Yes, I know, that gets old.  Being a working mother and putting Breck through physical therapy...it isn't easy.  I look at myself in the mirror and don't recognize myself.  The tired eyes and beginning fine lines, the fuller cheeks and jaw.  I never lost all of the baby weight, though I walked two-three miles a night at one point.  At least I only gained 30 lbs last time.  And right now, I have lost all the pregnancy weight from Ace.  But I'm not Kaylea Brooks.  I am Mom.

I remember when I had the epiphany that my mother was once her own person.  It shocked me that she had a personality, and to me seeing photos of her in her youth and reading what she wrote back then made me feel like I was experiencing some mythical creature akin to a unicorn.  Yes, I was that self-absorbed.  I believe most children believe their mom is just this thing that provides and makes things better...and that's all she is until they stumble upon her past.

My personality got lost in the babies and exhaustion.  There is a constant tumult around us, so the piano, writing, and running took a back seat.  So did the makeup and nice clothes.  Now I see that my selfishness is withering away, though slowly.  But the identity, well it's not so much there.

I think they call that depression, but I call it children.  I used to think my mom was terrible for not remembering all of the parts of our childhood, but now I get it.  Survival is the default mode.  Days and night meld together, and relationships fall to the wayside, as do pleasantries and societal norms I used to follow religiously.  Why?  Because I don't have time to care about anyone but my children, and on occasions when my husband is home, him too.  I don't have time for myself, let alone too many others.  Time is a precious commodity that I spend on few, but those I invest in, I try and give the best of me.  Not that there is much of me left.  And I have a few friends who understand this.  They're the golden ones.  One specifically who is just as busy, and when we finally get together we don't feel too guilty, because we know the other understands.  Life is a raging river, and you're always trying to grab on to something solid and stay there.   Why was I in such a hurry to grow up?  They were right.

So, these days, I want to write.  Some have said I have a talent.  Maybe I do.  I just write all my feelings when they well up.  I think brutal honesty is the key to being a great writer.  There is not much else to it.

Spinning World

I have been fighting many things...so many things compete for my attention.  Today, I have found peace.  The Lord poured it over me, and I couldn't help but lift my hands and be speechless.  It has been hard being unemployed and a new mother.  I fail at it quite often.  I fail at being Godly quite often.  By myself, I FAIL.   But when I come to the point of sweet surrender, there is nothing I can do but know that God loves me and my family, and that every little thing that I would see as a negative is a teaching point.  It is a point of grace where I need God the most, and that's just it.  God wants you where you need Him and only Him.  He'll walk you through very hard things to get there, but in the end, it is worth it.  Being chastised is a blessing.  Discipline from the Father means He loves me, and He wants me to be more like Him.

I am not like Him.  I am dirty.  I am mean, angry, foul mouthed, base, lascivious, cruel, close-minded, hypocritical, ignorant, apathetic, afraid, GUILTY.

But in the midst of all my muck and mire, He calls me to be like Him.  He forgives me.  He gives me grace that is new each day.  He looks on me as if I am righteous like His beloved Son.  It's time I looked on each trial with a gratefulness.  He is near to the brokenhearted.  He is near to me.  

If you know me, you know I am not perfect.  You know my temper.  You know my mouth, and how I say stupid thoughtless things.  Forgive me.  I am wrong, and it takes every day of trying to steer this ship in a new direction that is NOT me.  If I take my eyes off Him for a second, I lose my way fast.  You have seen it.  Forgive me for not being better or stronger.  Forgive me for not being gracious or not being positive.  Forgive me for holding myself back.  For indulging myself in the things of this world.  I am a child of God...I'm still a child, still learning, and I will be for the rest of my life.  To all my friends who don't see Jesus in me, I am ashamed, but I stand in His grace, hoping that with each day He will make me more like Him.

The Perfection in Imperfection

I am, finally, the mother of a beautiful baby boy.  He is wonderful.  He didn't used to keep me up all night until this week, and this is week #3.  The first two weeks were laden with intermittent pain and euphoria  of having a perfect baby, one who only woke up once a night.  Of course, that has changed now as he begins to transition out of the newborn stage.

The boy eats like a horse (like his dad) and can't be wakened if he is asleep (also like his dad).  He is stubborn (will cry for hours if you don't hold him) and expressive (he gets that from me).  :)

I love him so much.  I don't know what I will do when someone hurts him.   It will be very hard for me not to kill them.  You thought I was crazy before?  You should see me now that I'm a mom.

We lost our sweet puppy dog, Angel, earlier this week, and for the first time in over a month, I felt really depressed.  I will always miss her, since she was my first dog and I got her during a time when I was mourning my friend's death and other things going on in my life at the time.  She helped me to deal with things emotionally, and because of that, I think of her as a true friend that God blessed me with at the right time.  And she left at a good time too, when I have an infant who is becoming more vocal.  To be honest, I don't have much time to dwell on the sadness, though I still have my moments.

What's the most encouraging thing of all of this?  I can feel myself growing.  I can see my relationship with my husband getting stronger, though I thought the opposite was supposed to happen.

My husband is my best friend, and he has been very supportive and sweet throughout everything.  He tells me how awesome I am at being a mom.  He is becoming the loving father that I always dreamed of...and a better husband because of it.

People have stepped up and helped us in so many ways, I can't thank them enough.  We have been given countless gift cards, checks, gifts, clothes for Sampson.  My church has been awesome.  My pastor and his wife brought over food and a gift card for groceries from them and other members.  Friends have offered to babysit and give a hand, gladly.  I have never felt so loved.

Though life will continue to be hard, because that is just life, I am more confident that life will be okay.  It doesn't weigh on my shoulders anymore.

Another Season of Waiting

So, I'm in another part of life that requires patience...waiting.  I'm waiting on Sampson.  Waiting on God.  Waiting on opportunity.  Waiting on security.  Just waiting.

I'm not as completely freaked out as I expected myself to be.  This is the second time this year that I find myself without a job.  I used to apply to about thirty different jobs a week a year or two ago.  But earlier this year, when a good job as a book publisher went under, I applied at different places--but I also took a number a man from Mardel gave me.  I called it and scheduled an appointment at a temp agency.  I was put on a temporary project with Chesapeake not a week later.  The pay was the same as my job as a publisher.  I thought I might even get a chance to be hired on.

It was a good seven month run, the same amount of time I was with On Demand Books.  I wasn't cut when most people (about half) were, and my original prayer of making it to September was answered.  Praise God for His graciousness in that.  I made it as far as is comfortable.  We have enough savings to last us about two months, and I'm already applying for jobs as we speak, so I can get hired on in November after I have Sampy.  I'm not stressed like I thought I would be.  God has taken care of Breck and me.  He will continue to do so.

All the same, prayers are always greatly appreciated.  The support of a brother or sister with prayer is always uplifting, and it makes this sometimes hard battle of faith easier.

I remember when I praised God about getting the Chesapeake job earlier this year, an Atheist man asked me why I was giving glory to God about a job I busted my tail to earn, and a job that I was perfectly qualified for, so why was I surprised about getting it?

I spent the first year out of college married, working for $9/hr, and I was the only one working for six months, too.  It was rough.  There were weeks we went without groceries to make rent.  We ate potatoes and macaroni.  That's it.  I applied for every job I could, but no matter how many times I called back or no matter what I applied for, I wasn't getting any response.

Mind you, I know that I'm not the only person who experienced this.  We are in the middle of a Great Recession, and I know plenty of people with degrees applying for the same $10/hr jobs I was.  It didn't matter what your experience was, no one was hiring.  They were hiring administrative assistants with master's degrees.  Isn't that funny?  Getting paid $10/hr with a master's degree?  So, all of us new graduates had no chance at what traditionally has been reserved for entry level college graduates.  All of the experienced workers from across the nation faced lay offs, and guess what?  They came to Oklahoma for jobs...even jobs that they wouldn't want, such as secretarial and administrative jobs.  And the college kids like me?  We were stuck waiting tables, waiting for our turn to jump on any ladder that had nothing to do with sales.  And believe me, there weren't any at the time.

I only had two interviews in that first year after college, after applying at hundreds of places.  I finally remember telling God, "Okay, I get it.  I'm not going anywhere.  You want me to wait?  I'll wait."  Within a month I was told of an opportunity with On Demand Books.  My music minister and friend, Darrell, let me know about it.  I was one of three people interviewed, and I got the job.

Sadly, the company had to close their locations, and mine was the first to go.  It was just the wrong time to introduce printing and publishing when iPads and Kindles were taking over the market.  Print readership is down and will continue to decline, so in all reality, I shouldn't have been surprised.  My professors warned me of things like this in 2007 when I entered the journalism program at UCO.  They were right.  It's only going to continue changing, and traditional media is going to die out if it doesn't evolve with the rest of the world.

So, after being let go, I was ready for the long haul.  I knew it could be a while before I found a job that would provide for my family like I needed.  But a week later, God came through.  It had nothing to do with me.  In fact, the less I worry about what I have no control over, the more room for God to do something amazing. I'm excited to see what He will do with this one.  :)

Two or three years ago, I would be having a mental and emotional breakdown over this.  I would be destroyed.  But I'm grateful for the growth that I couldn't achieve without Him.  The peace I have right now is not of me.  It isn't my nature.  I'm a neurotic and obsessive person.  I'm a control freak.  But when I let these things go and put them in His hands, I'm free.  I can only do what I can, and believe me, I'm applying for jobs and looking for ways to provide for my family, but I also know that what God wants for me will happen.  I cannot change His will, and freaking out and acting out of desperation only tells Him that I don't believe He'll take care of me.

I'm glad He has taken care of me over the past few years, and I'm glad for the peace He gives me now.  I'm glad I'm not in control.  I don't want to be.

From the Wild

I will soon be a mother.  I guess this realization makes me more sentimental than I otherwise would be.  I also guess that most children, no matter how much they say they hated their hometowns growing up, long for home when they are finally grown.  I'm having a baby now, am I grown?

My home is a wild land, dry and harsh, hot, cold, empty and barren.  Phone companies such as AT&T, Verizon, and Sprint refuse to operate there since it's such a high cost area.  My father is employed at Panhandle Telephone, Inc., so I remember him explaining why no one wanted to be there.

And it's true.  No one sets out to Guymon, Goodwell, Boise City, etc., looking to start a life unless they grew up there.  Heck, I always said I would never come back, and who knows if I ever will.  And the people who grew up there are well rooted in families whose great-grandparents came for free farm and ranch land.  They are a tough people, friendly, stubborn and determined.  They come from people who stayed during the hardest time, and rode out the Great Depression, clouds of dust, and constant loss.  These are the people that didn't shudder at hard times, these active and hardworking ancestors.  They knew more than anyone what the very bottom felt like.  They also knew that helping each other was the only way to survive.

I suppose the only people coming to the panhandle looking to start a life these days are those who are brought in by the hog and beef farms, but until the 1990s, there really wasn't an influx.  I hear Guymon is growing now, changing much like other small towns.  Things are different.  The people coming in are still the hardworking type.  They're still the underdogs.

I introduce myself to people and tell them where I'm from--I take my left hand and use it as an Oklahoma map to show them where I call home.  I also explain that I'm in the part most weathermen cut off the screen.  I'm from where most politicians dismiss as unnecessary when it comes to running for things.  People really disregard us, and they shouldn't.  But you can't understand this all unless you've lived in the panhandle. 

No one wants no man's land, and when I left at 18, I drove away and didn't look back.  I didn't cry.  The big city awaited me.  The nearest "city" to Guymon is Amarillo and that's about two hours away, so you can imagine how a small-town girl felt moving to the city by herself.

It was liberating.

All the same, I can attribute a lot of my stubborn, hardworking tendencies to the panhandle that shaped my daddy, his daddy, and his daddy before him.  The same panhandle where my grandmother met my papa on Main Street.  The small, sleepy town that endures droughts, dust storms, ice and snow, tornadoes and 90 mph straight winds (trust me, our fence blew over twice) is the town that polished me.  The people, all of whom know your parents and grandparents, are friendly and they watch out for each other.  There is no road rage.  It only takes five minutes to get to the other side of town.

And really, it is a beautiful place, though there aren't any real trees.  That's the best thing about the panhandle--the sky is so open, and when the thunderheads come in bringing with them the sweet and rare smell of rain, there really isn't anything more beautiful.  Especially when they ride in during the sunset...painted pinks, oranges, and reds.  The lightning fills the sky, surrounded by super-cell mountains.  After months of arid wind, I can promise you there is nothing else that lifts a panhandler's spirits more than rain.  In fact, even when it's flooding here in the city after an overly wet season, I could never tire of it.  That's how much I love rain.

I always gripe about that drive back home, but honestly, it's always a good time to listen to my favorite music and take in the scenery and beautiful sunset clouds.  It's perfect for soul searching, because nothing does the soul more good than a long journey home to family, friends and memories.  That desert-like land will always be a part of me, and someday I'll tell Sampson all the stories I heard from my dad and grandparents.  The roots will always run deep.

So, besides me being pregnant...

Life is crazy.  I'm seven months pregnant, and I haven't posted anything on this blog in over eight months.  Living life can take a lot of effort and cooking a bun in the oven, yeah talk about mentally and physically exhausting.  Add on to that the death of my great grandmother, moving out of an apartment into a new house, a graduating husband (who started grad school three weeks after graduation), my sister's wedding, a wedding shower for my friend I tried to help plan, the death of my husband's grandmother, and a temporary job on top of that.

Yeah, life is crazy.

I still haven't caught my breath really.

My brain is fuzzy, and the saying about pregnant women loosing IQ points really scares me.  So I have been reading everything from the Qua-ran to George Bush's Decision Points.  Another one I'm on right now is Jerusalem 1913 about Palestinian-Israeli conflict.  God, please let me still have a brain after having a baby and don't let it turn into complete mush.  Oh, and a body too.  GOD PLEASE LET MY BODY BOUNCE BACK...just a little.  PLEASE.  It probably won't completely though.  I have stretch marks on the back of my thighs like a cat went ape crazy on them.  Love it.  

Talking Rocks

Here I sit,  twisting back and forth--dangling from a long string.  I hate choices...big choices.  I know I must make them, but still, I am unsure of where I should be.  It's not just me, by the way.  It accurately describes much of my generation.

I hate indecisiveness.  So, I will pray and see how it goes.

I still run, and that's a miracle for me.  I do my best to get in shape.  It helps me sleep more and feel better in general.  I love the feeling of being sore the next day.  Even more so, I enjoy running at night--running by the field and its mass of cool air, unlike the air above the slabs of concrete.  Then comes the fragrance of water, and damp dirt.  I relish those smells.  They permeate the air, nearly as good as the scent of a fresh rain.

The earth announces fall with golden, aureate flowers that dot the landscape like brush strokes in a painting, along with quiescent leaves adorned in ruby and gold--the first turning of trees.  As chlorophyll vanishes, the trees enter their deep slumber.

When I leave my warm house and go out into this world of wonderful smells and color, it takes me back to times when I ran in the state meet at Oral Roberts.  The oaks softly shed their leaves, ever so slowly.  My feet crunched on top of them as I ran.

When I run, I don't feel the need to analyze every thought.  Why figure everything out, when I can experience the earth that we hide from?  I'm too caught up in myself, I think.  Just bury me in the sweet smelling soil, perpetually covered by a world of color and life. Let me stay there.

In the country, the Milky Way is so bright.  It lights up all of the sky, illuminating the black of night.  I could lay down and watch the galaxy revolve around some unknown point.  The stars are uncountable.  I miss that about living in the middle of nowhere.   Trees are wonderful, but where I'm from, there's just a vast, open sky.  In the spring, the thunderheads roll in, bringing with them precious rain.  At sunset, they come in the brightest oranges, fading into pinks and purple when the sun goes down.

I know we were made to enjoy these wonderful manifestations.  Are the changing hues and bright flowers for us?  The stars and sky too?  I dare say no.  I believe He created them because He enjoys them.  But we are given a chance to enjoy them, too.  God could have forged the universe and left man out of it.  But He didn't.  I, myself, wonder why He bothered with us sometimes.  We can be petty, selfish and cruel.  We ruin things.  Though humans have the capacity to love, cherish, and grow, we would rather invoke destruction .  Why do we, yes we, mean more to Him than all of creation?  Isn't it unfathomable?  For some reason, we are just a little less than the angels.

I am surrounded by beauty, and yet I wonder about our souls.  If all creation isn't a testimony to a Mind greater than all minds, a deeper Heart with the infinite ability to love, what is?  Happenstance doesn't answer the deeper questions.  He said even the rocks will cry out.

Because of the God I believe in, because I know He created this, all of my problems seem so small.  How else can I testify about Him?  Without Him, I wouldn't have survived.