Tag Archives: David

I Bought A Car!!!!

Posted on by Standard 17

It’s been crazy around here. Not too long ago, Ernie informed me that my car wasn’t going to make it much longer. Something about heads and oil in the cooling system, or something, but all I knew was that it was now time to start thinking about getting a new car.

I hate buying cars. I hate picking one out. I hate filling out paperwork. I truly, truly hate insurance companies…You get what I’m saying. Add to that list, this time around, I have only my little income to stretch and bend to put a car payment into. After Ernie left, I cried. I have always loved my little green Saturn, and it felt like my world was crashing down around me.

For awhile, I freaked out. Bekkie & I discussed the finances, and I was even more depressed after that talk. In the end, all I could do was pray. So I did.

Occasionally, I wake up with a mission. The day I decided Chef’s truck needed to be busted out of the impound, I just woke up deciding that I was going to make that happen, and I did. I’m kind of known in the family for that kind of thing, so it should have been no surprised that I woke up yesterday with a mission to find, and buy, a new car. There was no money for a down-payment, but I did have my poor dying Saturn. Armed with a clear title, and a vague knowledge of what was ailing the poor car, I started on my quest. Luckily, most of it was done on-line.

As luck would have it, the car dealership I’d earmarked as my first choice, approved me. They had me bring my broken Saturn, a title, and a tidal wave of verification paperwork, down to the lot, and I spent the next 5.75 hours buying a car.

Rebekkah kindly kept a photo-diary of the event which has allowed me to do a pictorial of me buying my first car all by myself!!!!

First: Filling out the mountain of paperwork. That would be the most boring picture ever, so we’ll just skip to Hour No. 3 when it occurred to me that I just might starve to death.

This is me after a bag of Ranch Doritos Chips and a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup…both which might have been older than I am….

At any moment, my stomach might have begun to bloat...

At any moment, my stomach might have begun to bloat…

Then, David mentioned the phrase “test drive” and I perked up…

Test Drive = Restaurants

Test Drive = Restaurants

Frankly, Rebekkah and I didn’t care much about the car at that moment. We’d been worn down from paperwork, insurance crap, and starvation… We would have totally been okay with a garbage truck at that point.

Here’s where we test drove the little Chevy Malibu…

photo (2)

Located about half a mile from the dealership, we drove like Nascar racers straight to Whataburger. Thankfully, we hadn’t begun bloating yet.

It only occurred to us to  be happy that I’d gotten approved for a new car, with no down-payment, and a very broken Saturn, after we’d woofed down a hamburger and french fries.

This is me happy…and filled…

Guess who got a new car? This girl!!

Guess who got a new car? This girl!!

And the car we were test driving parked like a champ….

It fit between the lines perfectly.

It fit between the lines perfectly.

But, alas, we didn’t actually select the Chevy Malibu, opting instead to purchase the Buick Century.

I'm independently mobile again!!!

I’m independently mobile again!!!

I’m one happy girl today!!

– Bird

We Are Surrounded by Witnesses – Especially At The Worst Moments

Posted on by Standard 42

I can make an impression. I just don’t always make a good one, but it never fails, I always have an audience when things go badly for me…on any level. Today, I had a really, really big audience to several really trying wardrobe problems.

I’m kind of a t-shirt and jeans kind of girl. I own maybe 4 pairs of shoes altogether, and my cowboy boots. I’m definitely no Imelda

This is me tonight, back in my comfy clothes, hair un-brushed, face-paint removed, and gearing up for another try at this professional dress-up crap tomorrow.

This is me tonight, back in my comfy clothes, hair un-brushed, face-paint removed, and gearing up for another try at this professional dress-up crap tomorrow.

Marcos. I almost never wear any of them but the boots. I don’t often wear jewelry or make-up, and because I have long hair that is really curly, I have been known to not even brush it before heading out the door. It isn’t that I’m not clean and neat looking. I am. I just don’t like the way makeup feels on my face, and I own almost no jewelry. Usually, bracelets and rings get in my way when I’m typing, and since my Star of David necklace broke, I haven’t really found one I like as much. So, I dress for comfort. I like to think of myself as kind of an earthy, natural kind of girl.

My mom used to call it just being lazy.

When she was young, she wouldn’t be caught dead without makeup in place and her hair made up just so. She was one beautiful, elegant, graceful woman. And my dressing habits always horrified her, not to mention that I am about as graceful as a cow, and I’m prone to make jokes when I’m nervous, which she also found a bit unsettling. I miss seeing that shocked look on her face. I’ll bet she secretly thought I’d been switched with her real child at birth!

Today, the company that I work for set up a booth at a job fair that was being held for Veterans. We were pretty excited about this since it was our first time, and we’ve been all a-flutter with preparations. And I, in rare form, wanted to look professional. Ask anyone who has ever worked with me, I’m a pretty good employee except I hate dressing up. I can find the technicalities and loopholes in almost any dress code, and every single company I’ve ever worked for at some point or another brought up the fact that I skirted as close to the edge of their dress codes as one possibly can and still remain employed. Kim, my friend/boss at this company was actually my boss at another company a few years ago. The first time I worked for her, she gave me a big raise on the condition that I go buy more professional clothes. I did, but I didn’t agree to wear them. :-) Just kidding. Kind of. I made it a point to try to wear one skirt a week, but that was about it. I work better when I’m not bound up in suffocating panty-hose, balancing on heels, and tucking and re-tucking in silky blouses that keep slipping all over the place. How do women do this without losing their minds???

I don’t know what it is about panty-hose that makes my skin crawl. It is like applying a second skin that costs too much, tears really easily and gets caught on everything. I know they make our legs look slinky and beautiful, but at what cost? I can’t make it through one work day without a run taking off and spreading the length of my leg. Then my legs don’t look so great anymore.  And high heels? Obviously, those were a man’s idea. My mother, who was elegant and ladylike, made me walk around in heels with a book balanced on my head so I wouldn’t look stupid in them. Yes. I know how to walk in them. I just don’t want to.

But, this company that I work for now is absolutely perfect for me because I only have to dress in business professional clothes for special occasions. I mostly work behind the scenes, so I don’t have to don the little black skirt and heels all that often. But because we were representing our company to the public at this Veteran’s Job Fair – Hiring Our Heroes today —  I wanted to make my company proud. (Well, that and this company actually bought me several nice business suits for these such occasions. I felt obligated, too.) I picked out my favorite little black skirt set with a cute top and fancy undershirt that I had been saving to wear last, and I even applied eye makeup, along with the normal face paint and blush,  and wore some earrings and a fancy necklace. All of these things don’t happen often. Really, almost never. And even though I was uncomfortable, itchy, and balancing on spikes, I felt like I looked pretty darn good. I headed out the door ready to tackle the day.

I had no idea.

First, I stopped to pump gas, and my necklace, obviously not secured correctly fell down my blouse. Note: There is no graceful way to dig something out of your waistline from the top of a blouse. It literally didn’t even pause at my breast area. What does that say about my twins? Still pumping gas, I placed my hand on my waist, keeping the necklace from making a more embarrassing exit from beneath my skirt, and acted like something was wrong with my stomach while I paid the cashier. Once in the car, I fished the sucker out and re-fastened it while two teenage girls gathering signatures for something I was sure I wouldn’t care about, stood there and watched smirking. Not a great moment, but not earth-shattering either. They are girls, and as such, we women all have these kinds of stories. Their time would come. Our fashions and styles are way more complicated than men’s, and even worse, we care about the mishaps more. Still, I recovered nicely and headed to the Expo.

Once at the location, that stupid necklace did it again! This time, it got lodged in my bra. I don’t get why my boobs were able to impact its course this time but not the last. Did I grow a cup size? Probably not.  Incidentally, the bra fishing expedition wasn’t as bad as the waistline one, but the security guard didn’t even bother to pretend he wasn’t looking at me digging in my bra for my necklace. Once again, I put the necklace on, this time making absolute sure that it was fastened correctly. Then I backed out of that parking space and went to the other side of the parking lot, just so I wouldn’t have to get out of the car in front of the peeping security guy. Hopefully, he would think I was someone else.

Next, I was kind of dismayed to realize that my shoes, which fit me just fine all these years, no longer fit me correctly. You just can’t wear high heels that don’t fit snug, or you clump around like a moron, the heel slipping off and making an extra little “thwack” sound as you walk. Nice. I had no idea back then, but I must have had fat feet because with all this weight loss, my shoe size went down one whole size. Can you believe that? I don’t remember my feet being fat! But with visions of my mother and her book-balacing exercise running through my head, I was mortified. How did I not notice this before I left my apartment?? So, I had to really, really want to go somewhere today before I would set off in my too-big high heels, thwacking my way down the road. I thought about kicking them off and running around like a comfortable heathen, but something told me my boss would frown on that, not to mention my mother, so I didn’t.

I had a lot of things to carry in, and that was when I noticed that my top button (which is this flimsy little fancy eyelet kind of thing) was undone. Yes, I had a cammasol on, but it was pretty lacy and see-through, and I quickly clicked the stupid thing back in place. Little did I know that this crucial clip thing would come undone every time I breathed! If I slouched in my chair, it would pop open. If I bent over, it would pop open. If I took a deep breath, it would pop open. It was making me crazy!! Kim even tried bending it a bit  but no joy. The sucker was determined to stay unbuttoned.

So, of course, I became obsessed with that stupid button, and I had a hard time focusing on my actual job. If a guy smiled at me, I checked my blouse. If anyone frowned at me, I checked it again. In fact, I literally must of have checked, and then re-buttoned, that thing over 100 times today. And the job fair only lasted 4 hours!

About an hour in, I notice news cameras around. And guess which table they were taking pictures of? No big thing, I told myself. They had been all around that place, and we’d likely be cut from anything that went on air. I wasn’t too concerned until the news guy came and interviewed one of the ladies I work with, who just happened to be sitting right next to me. All of the rest of us moved out of camera range, except the lady who was being interviewed. And again, I had to re-pin my blouse. I was fairly sure though, that I was far enough away to not be doing that on camera. I thwacked my way to the restroom hoping to find a pin in my purse to fix the naughty clip, but I thwacked for nothing. I have the most random crap in my purse, but nothing so sensible as one stupid pin!! I thwacked back to my booth disappointed.

Finally, the fair was over, and we packed up our stuff. I went straight to my car, took the stupid blouse off, put on a t-shirt, and returned to help everyone pack up. We went to a lunch meeting, and then I came home. I put on my most comfortable sweats, t-shirt, washed off the face stuff, put my  hair in a lopsided braid and settled into some television. Already, I pretty much over the several embarrassing wardrobe mishaps of my day.

When the news came on, though, I was a tiny bit horrified.

First of all, I was in a lot of shots they took, clumping around in heels too big for me, pinning and re-pinning the top button of a semi-low-cut blouse, and as an added bonus, eating a cookie that I had taken from a tray that said Veterans Only. In my defense though, I didn’t notice that sign until after I bit into the cookie. The vendors had exactly the same cookie tray available to them if we were willing to scale the steps that led up to the lounge. And with my wardrobe problems, I didn’t figure the cookies up there would be worth the effort. Instead, I munched on Kim’s stale popcorn, and my stolen Veteran cookie….on camera.

What do you think the odds are that the owner will never see this news segment?

My mother would just die of embarrassment. Well, at least I kept my shoes on, right?

Tomorrow, we take our office Christmas picture, and I had planned on wearing the same skirt set. I’ve re-thought that idea. Tomorrow, I will be wearing a pull over blouse, no necklace, and boots.

I think my inability to pull off one graceful day dressed like a real professional, sophisticated woman of America should be classified as a legitimate disability and I should be excused from ever having to try to do it again. I’m not optimistic about tomorrow.

Thanks, News Channel 2. I think you did that on purpose. Stalkers.

:-)

Night, everyone!

– Bird

No Repeat Performances

Posted on by Standard 15

I want to thank all of you for the advice you gave me. I think it confirms what I was thinking that God was showing me.

While it is right for me to forgive, and show kindness, gentleness, peace, patience, etc. there is a line between us that makes me have limits to what I can and can’t do

Don’t worry. I’m happy, peaceful, and feeling well…and still smoking, like I’m doing in this picture…lol. But I’m going to try to quit again!!

for Chef and T. I don’t mind the texts for scriptures, but I need to not be manipulated into them feeling okay with what they are doing. You guys are right. I hadn’t even realized I am the perfect kind of person to do just that. I avoid giving them scriptures about adultery, because they might feel judged, but I give them all the scriptures about mercy, grace, forgiveness, etc. I’m stepping between God and Chef again, even though I thought my motives were correct.

The real problem is that I don’t feel any jealousy anymore, and I’m so appalled at how little T understands the true nature of God, the teacher/mother in me just flips out. I don’t want anyone trying to live under the Law, because we all know, it won’t work as a means of salvation. However, you guys are also right in that I’m not the only person that can show her these things. That would be arrogant of me to think so, and I don’t believe for a second God doesn’t have other workers out there to do just that.

Without that fleshly jealousy, anger, and burning need to hurt them back, I get sucked into things I probably should just stay out of. I’m a “fixer” when it comes to problems, and I can see now that Chef depended on me way more that I had remembered, and T is not a “fixer”. They have some serious problems with finances, her parents, his family, etc. and I need to stay out of it; not try to “fix” it.

Thank you all so much for your advice and wisdom. I knew God would confirm through all of you. :-)

Love,

Bird

 

Witness To The Death of a Soul

Posted on by Standard 27

 

In my life, there have only been a few times that I have considered someone my actual enemy. As I think back over my life, I am pretty sure that it has only been a couple of

 

Still-Life with a Skull, vanitas painting.

Still-Life with a Skull, vanitas painting. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

times that I’ve prayed that the Lord would bring someone to justice. David often wrote in the Psalms prayers that his enemies would stumble, fall, and fail. But to me, it always seem unmerciful to pray these kinds of prayers, so I just generally stayed away from them. Lately, with Chef, I’ve been more inclined to pray this sort of prayer, but last night, I realized all over again, it is Chef’s master that is my enemy, not Chef himself.

 

Something had been happening in the two days leading up to me deciding to leave, and I could feel in my spirit that I was at a crossroads. I had spent some time one on one with Chef, and let’s face it, I know him pretty well. I could see a twinkle of the old Chef in there occasionally, but it was always brief, and quickly gone. Then, through a random series of events that I never should have even known about, I found out that he had gotten our old house back, moved his girlfriend in with him, and was back on the drug that started this all out in the first place.

 

I went to see him one last time last night, because I wanted to feel closure. I wanted to say what he would never allow me to say before, always angrily running away. I told him that I could see him plainly now. I could see all the lies, manipulations, perversions of the last year. Even events from the last twenty years had come into focus for me, and while I was happy during that time, all the signs had been there that he would progress to this. I just hadn’t wanted to believe I couldn’t save him. Pride is an ugly thing, and I was full of it. This whole mess has broken that pride in me, and I’m very much a broken pot made of clay. I can save nothing and no one, not even myself. Only God saves those who want Him to, and I have no share in that glory whatsoever.

 

I have witnessed the slow, agonizing death of a soul, and it has been the scariest, most horrifying death I’ve ever witnessed.  As he stood there in the home we had put together, his eyes were sunken and eerily dull, and I felt the dark spirit’s presence that had become familiar to me in the last year. Only this time, I was looking him straight in the eyes, and the grief I felt was enormous because Chef had chosen to serve this demon who hated him so much. Death was surrounding Chef, following him from room to room like a shadow passing along the walls;  I was witnessing his spirit struggle to stay away from the light of the Lord that lives in this unworthy vessel. Lies poured out his mouth, excuses, reasons, and then wrath and rage bellowed out, all in a voice that I didn’t recognize. And not once did I feel afraid or confused. I could see my enemy, and it wasn’t Chef, and it wasn’t his girlfriend. It was the King of Lies, and Chef had chosen to serve him, reaping the rewards that only a king who hates his subjects would bestow.

 

People always think that it isn’t over until you’re dead. In fact, Chef would say that to me a lot. Time isn’t our friend, and always putting off decisions about your God and your choices until tomorrow is a fool’s game. It can, in fact, be over before you’re dead, as God has hardened many a heart who thought they would put Him off until later, wanting to live their lives in an ungodly way, but reap the benefits of eternal life.

 

 

 

Romans 1:16-32

 

American Standard Version (ASV)

 

16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.

17 For therein is revealed a righteousness of God from faith unto faith: as it is written, But the righteous shall live by faith.

18 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hinder the truth in unrighteousness;

19 because that which is known of God is manifest in them; for God manifested it unto them.

20 For the invisible things of him since the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even his everlasting power and divinity; that they may be without excuse:

21 because that, knowing God, they glorified him not as God, neither gave thanks; but became vain in their reasonings, and their senseless heart was darkened.

22 Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools,

23 and changed the glory of the incorruptible God for the likeness of an image of corruptible man, and of birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things.

24 Wherefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts unto uncleanness, that their bodies should be dishonored among themselves:

25 for that they exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen.

26 For this cause God gave them up unto vile passions: for their women changed the natural use into that which is against nature:

27 and likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another, men with men working unseemliness, and receiving in themselves that recompense of their error which was due.

28 And even as they refused to have God in their knowledge, God gave them up unto a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not fitting;

29 being filled with all unrighteousness, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malignity; whisperers,

30 backbiters, hateful to God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents,

31 without understanding, covenant-breakers, without natural affection, unmerciful:

32 who, knowing the ordinance of God, that they that practise such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but also consent with them that practise them.

This division between Chef and I wasn’t about the normal things that marriages end over — drugs, money, infidelity, strife. It ended because we each chose to give our whole hearts, minds, and souls to our masters, and mine is Jesus. His is not.

When all of this started a year ago, God kept me up one night, showing me that I needed to leave Chef. He promised I would not want to witness this, and yet, I gave myself excuse after excuse to stay with him. God was right. I never want to witness something like this again. But, as God is prone to do, He has also dropped some wisdom on me about this whole affair, and I am wiser, stronger, and more wary of my enemy than I’ve ever been before. God will turn all of this into a blessing for me and something that will shine His glory out to a very dark, very evil, very lost world.

I will mourn forever the choices Chef made, but I won’t choose follow anyone down that road again. I’ve seen how that master rewards those who serve him, and I’m un-inclined…My hope is in the Lord, and in Him will I find comfort.

– Catherine

 

How I Make It Rain In Tulsa

Posted on by Standard 35

I have a lot of things in my life to praise God for. I have my precious children. I have my absolute best friend in the world, Audra. I have my brother Ernie and his girlfriend, Diane.  I have those wives that keep checking up on me…I love all of you!!  I have a large network of people praying for me and encouraging me through this disaster area I call a life right now, both on-line and in person. I can only wallow in self-pity so long because in comparison with other people going through similar circumstances, I’m very, very fortunate.

I don’t know what men go through that triggers this weird need to destroy everything they’ve worked for in order to start all over again. I’m not sure I even want to anymore. But, as the jilted wife, I can tell you, this blows. Last night, I thought I was coming out of my skin. I knew he was being unfaithful all along, but to have tangible proof in hand is a hard pill to swallow. And poor Rebekkah…seriously, what were the odds we’d end up at THAT bar?? The poor girl felt horrible.

I think I needed to see that letter. It was painful, but now I can move on. He obviously has.

This morning, I’m peaceful and calm. It is simply over. I feel like David when he was praying that his and Bathsheba‘s son wouldn’t die. He dressed in sackcloth, and weeped, begging God to save his child. But when the child died, he got up, cleaned himself off, and broke his fast. It freaked everyone around him out, but I get it. The marriage is just over, over, over. Why weep and cry for it now?

I’d apologize for my little freak-out post, but I don’t think I need to. Sometimes, honesty is just so uncomfortable. If just one husband ever reads what this does to his wife, the pain that is seared right into our souls, and decides not to act on his own fleshly desires, it’ll be worth it. Same goes for wives. We shouldn’t be hurting one another.

I called Audra last night, and while we talked, I finally gave up the last vestige of hope. I’ve been grieving a person who simply doesn’t exist anymore. The things that Chef has said and done over the last year are just the opposite of what my husband would ever have done. The fact that he gets some joy out of hurting me is enough for me to walk away. Hurting people is never in God’s plan for us. We are supposed to treat each other as we would want to be treated. No one wants to be cheated on, lied to, or left behind.

He has set down a path that I don’t want to be on anyways. I may be dealing with hard emotions right now, but I can look myself in the eye in the mirror. My conscience isn’t clouded by adultery, lying, or secrets. I have given in to fear and anger a few times, and I’ve apologized to the Lord for those things. But, something in my spirit knows that the Lord knew how much this hurt me, and I feel His mercy every time I turn around. He is probably sadder about all of this than I am, if that is possible!

If satan could have planned this all better, I just don’t know how. That the girl is a proclaiming Christian is just a smack in my face. The bigger slap is that I gave this girl money last year to pay her rent. I have this thank you note written in the exact same handwriting that this love letter to my husband is written in, and it makes me feel grieved that she somehow thinks God will bless what she and my husband are trying to build. But, as angry and hurt as this makes me feel, I’m choosing to forgive both of them. I don’t want to walk in their shoes. My husband destroyed our marriage, and who he did it with is irrelevant. So, even though I don’t feel it at all, I’m choosing to forgive both of them.

On another note: All you Tulsans, I would like to point out that each time I’ve thrown my husband out, we have gotten rain in Tulsa. In fact, only those particular days have we gotten one drop of rain!!  Last night, I threw the man out of my heart, and we got a nice little thunderstorm. Weird coincidence? I think not.

–bird