Hi, dear readers! I’m sharing my Redemption Feast blog post from today’s WilmingtonFAVS.com about drinking and ‘special occasions’. Please feel free to share the link with those you might know who are involved in / seeking recovery, and God bless!
Tag: Blogging
Merry-go-Prophesy: Mayans will be Mayans, but no man knows
By: Jana Greene
My seventeen-year-old daughter made an interesting comment about the supposed Mayan Doomsday prophesy: “If the Mayans were so smart, why didn’t they see the Spaniards coming?”
When I was her age, the Social Studies teacher made our class watch a 1983 movie about post-nuclear war life called “The Day After”. I had my first anxiety attack that same afternoon, because sooner or later this is very likely to happen and how can everybody just carry on living normally after KNOWING that this was likely to happen? I wanted to stand under a street lamp with a sign warning everyone that THE END IS NEAR! I had nightmares for years, and my walk with the Lord suffered from neglect because I was too busy wringing my hands to fold them in prayer.
But the world kept spinning like a crazy merry-go-round anyway, and I had to learn to hold on.
Oh how we humans like to believe that SOMEBODY on earth has a clue about our future! Maybe not the crazy Hale-Bopp Comet chasers (remember them?) or Pat Robertson or the paranoid Doomsday Preppers, but SOMEBODY.
If the world really ended this month, I would mostly carry on as I am now.The priorities are getting to know the God that I will spend eternity with, loving people to the best of my ability and letting them know that this planet we call home is NOT ‘all there is’.
I would probably eat more chocolate if I knew the end was near – a LOT more chocolate, watch the sunset from the North End more often, finish the My Name is Earl collection I (selfishly) got my husband for Christmas last year. I would spend more time laughing in general, because so much of life is absurd.
Ironically, it has always been on the bottom-end of my bucket list to learn all of the words to REM’s “It’s the End of the World as we Know it” and not just sing out the words “that’s great, it starts with an earthquake”, “Lenny Bruce” and “Leonard Bernstein”. (Who IS ‘Lenny Bruce’, anyway?) But really, if we only have eight days to live, I could die without knowing the lyrics and be okay with it.
The truth is that life on this planet will end one day, that life as we know it is already over because it changes every day. The only future I am secured is life in Christ, but really – that’s the only life that matters. The merry-go-round will stop and let us off where we are meant to be.
The Bible says that nobody knows when that will occur. We really can’t see the “Spaniards” coming in advance, we just have to learn how to hold on.
“But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son,[fbut only the Father. As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man.Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.” – Matthew 24:36-44 (NIV)
Buckle up – its a wild ride!
The Flu or Something Like It
By: Jana Greene
It wasn’t the flu.
It couldn’t have been, because my husband had gotten a flu shot and he got sick before me. The flu shot, heralded as viral kryptonite, was supposed to prevent just such an incidence as this….this plague upon the Greene Residence.
Of course there are two schools of thought on the flu shot.
Team Flu Shot, which consists of people wearing lab coats and the government (completely trustworthy, right?) insists that you MUST have the flu shot. If you don’t, you are a biological renegade, careless with your own health but worse, a phlem-ridden public nuisance volunteering to spread disease.
Team Never Been Sicker is comprised of people who have had the shot and soon thereafter became gravely ill. These folks complete every sentence pertaining to the shot with, “No, really….I’ve never been sicker!” People in this category will also tell you (with a far-away look in the eye, remembering the horror) that they will never get another shot.. Because if you have every symptom of the legit flu, it is The Flu to you whether or not you’ve been immunized against it.
So, maybe it wasn’t the flu that my husband and I had, but it was a relative, at least. If it approached a talent agency about becoming a Flu Impersonator, it would get hired on the spot and paid top-dollar. It was a dead-ringer.
My Beloved and I lay next to each other for a week – two people madly in love with one another in bed – barely touching and saying things like, “please don’t touch me, even my hair hurts” through stuffed, red noses.
Hours became days. Bedside tables became crowded with wadded up tissues and cups sticky with Thera-flu residue. The days became a solid week, and then ten days of Imposter Flu…misery. And then, a tiny ray of hope in the form of a lapse in the constant headache.
We are starting to crawl out from under it, this monster bug. A few days ago, I logged onto this blog and realized that I have not written since October! What? How can that be? But there it was – bigger than Dallas – the calendar on the right-hand side of this page that chronicles blog entries with November empty. Time flies when you are incapacitated.
So, I’m sending apologies to the blogosphere for missing out on the entire month of November (so far) and looking forward to doing some writing in earnest to make up the difference. God snuck in some inspiration for new articles in between bouts of fever and nausea, and I’m looking forward to digging in to His Word and His work, and venturing out into the world again. Mister and Mrs. Never Been Sicker were down for a count, but not out of the game!
The plague is lifted, may the words soon follow!
Southern-Fried: Thoughts on Knowing Better
By: Jana Greene
Today, I reminded about showing compassion to those who may not “deserve” it. I made a dumb mistake, you see.
It’s the blisters that are reminding me. Or maybe the skin on my nose and shoulders that has turned the deep crimson hue of a good Merlot. I have a bad sunburn, and all I want to do for the moment is wrap up in soft sheets and whine about the pain. Maybe even moan a little. And eat chocolate.
What… You never heard that chocolate has healing properties?
I am nearly forty-four years of age. I know better. I’ve been a fair-skinned red-head all of my life, and this is not the first time I’ve been severely sunburned.
The other day, my Beloved and I took a day-trip to the beach and we only intended to stay for an hour or two.
But as if by some act of divine mercy, we found a spot on the shore that was nearly deserted (by at least twenty feet on either side) and the sky was a wide blue with nary a cloud to block the glorious rays of the sun! A breeze from the ocean blew gently and cool (but warm for October) against us, making us forget that…hey, there are no clouds to block the sun.
We had even remembered to put up the beach umbrella!
Not that we stayed under it for very long.
When we did get warm-ish sitting under the wide blue sky, we walked down to the water – holding hands. And although the ocean was a bit chilly at first, the initial “yikes!” gave way to a cooling ahhhhhhh until we were neck deep and free-floating.
On an October day, no less!
We swam until we were tired and then walked back to the beach chairs in the sun, enjoying the sensation of water evaporating off of our skin. Conversation, laughter, sunshine, water. And then again. And then again.
Until we – satiated and out of cold beverages – headed home.
And then, over the next few hours, our bodies turning burgundy, thought “Hmmm. Maybe we should have used sunblock.” We did think about it a few times.
But it’s OCTOBER, my mind protested stubbornly. As if one cannot possibly get sunburned in the fall, the way one cannot possibly wear white after Labor Day. My mind, which felt increasingly like an egg fried underneath my crimson scalp relented. Excuses, excuses…and then a painful consequence. And now the moaning.
You did this to yourself.
Wandering through Wal-Mart later on a quest for aloe lotion, I see the stares from people thinking, Well, she should know better. Or worse…..Tourist!
Judging is easy….the smug realization that whatever painful, blistering circumstance a person might be in – they brought it on themselves. I’m getting better at not judging, but sometimes it’s still a challenge. Because when we see homelessness, addiction, a pregnant teenager or even celebrities who struggle with consequences – sometimes our first thoughts are not of compassion:
You know, that could have been avoided.
Don’t you know better?
That was a dumb mistake.
And while all of these things are possibly true, the resulting pain is still pitiful. God may shake his head with frustration over us – the stubborn ones – but he still gathers us up in soft sheets of compassion. He expects us – as if by His divine mercy – to do the same. Even when one’s mistake is out there for all the world to see. No excuses necessary….just love.
Ouch.
Yeah…..Especially then.
Redemption Feast Blog – Letter to my Disease
I invite you, dear readers, to visit http://wilmingtonfavs.com/blogs/jana-greene/letter-to-my-disease to see the Wilmington Faith and Values site that I also write for. My blog there (usually updated a few times per week) is called “Redemption Feast”.
God bless you and yours today, and as always – please feel free to share the link with anyone whom you feel might benefit from it. Have a great day!
Kinked Links and God’s Messy, Knotted up Favorites
By: Jana Greene
Having just finished a fantastic book that talked about – among many other things – whether Christians should “keep it real” with the world, I felt as though I should blog about my entanglement. Not because it’s so interesting that a middle-aged woman would get so worked up about what amounts to normal, first-world problems, but because I wanted to share a vision that God is giving me to deal with feeling this way. (Spoiler: it isn’t His magically making things perfect….that miracle is for the next world, not this one).
When I went to bed last night, my More Spiritual Self was kinked up.
After instigating a mild argument with my husband, I had tried to sleep. When that failed, I tried to pray. Fitfully, I asked God would He please give me a break here? I know we are not supposed to let the sun go down on our anger, but I am clearly in the right!
That small, still voice didn’t chastise me anymore. Still, I quit trying to pray because I was so out-of-sorts and jumbled up, I couldn’t tell where one request started and another whiny demand ended. Frustrated, I tossed and turned all night. Tomorrow will be better, I told myself.
But this morning, nothing in my closet fit me – The Fat Fairy neglected to visit me during the night to relieve the body-issue angst that is the hallmark of my Selfish Self. (If she would only come and take my fat away while I was sleeping and leave money in it’s place, it would solve TWO problems simultaneously!) All day, worry entangled me. Issues big and small (and all out of my control) tormented me and I walked around in a cloud of menopausal grump.
By noon, I had myself so knotted up with stress that I broke out in tears at Costco while waiting to purchase toilet paper and cat food. The check-out girl was very friendly, in a “I’ve no idea what to do about this” way, which made me cry harder because I felt sorry for her. She didn’t tell me to have a nice day.
But on the way home from Costco, I had a random memory about a short exchange between my daughter and I earlier. When I had taken her to school that morning, I complimented her on her outfit (which really was lovely) and she held out her necklace for me to see and said, “It’s my favorite.”
I also remembered that it was the same gold-toned necklace with beads and feathers on it that sat on our kitchen table for a week, knotted up in a ball. My daughter had gotten it tangled up at the bottom of a bag and asked me to unravel it, which I’d tried to do several times.
“You should really take better care of your stuff,” I had told her, when she’d given it to me and asked me to fix it.
And each time I would try to untangle it, the frustration mounted. Within minutes of not being able to tell where one link started and another began, I’d leave the project out of sorts, the necklace jumbled up worse than before. She’s just going to have to throw it out…it’s unsalvageable.
As a last resort, I enlisted the help of my husband, who patiently untangled the entire chain and left it for my daughter to find on the kitchen table. He didn’t fuss at her for letting it get that way, he just solved the problem behind the scenes. Which brings me back to today, when she wore her favorite piece of jewelry restored to it’s former glory.
I’m trying to untangle my chain, I realized. I’m knotted in a ball and don’t even know what to pray for.
“Perhaps,” said my More Spiritual Self. “You should give the big ball of it to God and let him untangle it.” And my Selfish Self, after reeling from the sting that my husband would be God in this analogy, had to concur that I have to bring my anxiety, pain and restlessness while I am still frustrated. Nothing is unsalvageable to God, but when I try to untangle myself, I make the knot bigger. He will be untangling my messes all the days of my life, but I have to leave it on the kitchen table, so to speak – and not as a last resort.
Sometimes I fail to take my issues to Him because I know He has every right to say, “You should take better care of your stuff” and I’m afraid He will.
But He never does, He just loves.
I’d like to say that VOILA! I am in a fantastic mood now that I had an epiphany, but I’m trying to “keep it real” here. I can tell you that this afternoon, I’m not crying anymore and that when I got home from Costco, I broke down and changed into sweatpants with an elastic waistband. I texted my awesome husband that I love him twice today and I am still sober, which doesn’t seem like it should be a big deal after eleven and a half years of not drinking, but trust me – sometimes it still is. All of these things (yes, even elastic waistbands!) are blessings.
And God is still on the throne and loves us even though we are messy, knotted-up things.
We’re His favorites.
I’m ALL in! A Reintroduction to the Beggar’s Bakery
Hello, and pleased to meet you – or meet you again! Today I’m re-posting the first piece from The Beggar’s Bakery as a reintroduction. God bless you, and thanks for your readership!
By: Jana Greene
Welcome to my little piece of Real(ity)Estate on the web! It took a long time for me to create one; I could not imagine anyone would read it. (I hope it turns out that I’m wrong, but if not – I get LOTS of writing practice!)
I also hope that you might take something away from it each day. I am going to try my level best to keep it real (probably too real at times).
So what you should you know about me?
There are the usual stats and facts:
I am happily married to Bob Greene, whom I don’t write about in the public forum often at the risk of sounding like I’m bragging. He really is – cliché not withstanding – my best friend, and I’m so glad to be doing this crazy life with him. We have been married over five years and have blended a family that contains three teenaged daughters; two mine, one his. (Yes, they all live with us, and yes….He IS practically a Saint!) The blending is harder and sweeter and more challenging and more rewarding than I could have imagined.
I gave birth to two daughters, now 16 and 19, and I mother my lovely stepdaughter (nearly 20) when she lets me. They are my heart walking around outside of my body, if my own heart chose to drive me absolutely crazy (which it has on occasion). I love them fiercely and will try to respect their respective privacies here, although you can expect a good many pieces about my frustrations as I learn to let them go. If they get bored enough, they might read this one day, in which case I have TONS of chores for them to do.
I’ve worked at insurance and real estate agencies, mortgage companies, law offices, and as a day-care teacher. As a single mother I worked several at a time – including a hardware store paint-slinger and as a part-time hotel maid. All were character building. But I’ve been a writer – legit or not – since I could hold a crayon.
I am imperfect all the way. As a writer, I use the forbidden “three dots”…too often and cannot bear to part with the text-forbidden smiley faces 🙂 and sometimes use run-on sentences because I think they convey stream-of-consciousness better and yes, I know all of these are against the Strunk and White’s “The Elements of Style” guidelines. I have written for a small local paper,and although I couldn’t make a living at it, it was the best job I ever had. Also, I have a terrible “wordi-ness” problem, but I’m working on it. Sort-of. I write for the selfish reason that it helps me productively process the pain and pleasure in life when I pour words onto a page. And for the selfless reason that I cannot help anyone else find the “Bread of Life” if I don’t show them where I found it.
Because, all of these things I tell you about me, are true, but none define me. I am a Christian and a beggar. That is my most accurate self-description.
Over eleven years ago, I came to the end of myself and all of my delusions of put-together-ness, which is to say – I got sober. If you know me even casually, you know I am an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink in that long, but I am still – forever – in recovery, something that keeps me humble and coming back for more of what got me clean in the first place. Every single day. I keep it “out there” because there is somebody, somewhere who is hiding bottles and drinking that “two” beers just to stop the shaking and who is so, so, ashamed. I know shame. Or maybe he/she is addicted to drugs, or porn, or the approval of others – it’s all the same to your soul – or cannot seem to find a reason to wake up in the morning. I can’t tell you how to fix it, but I can tell you who can. I can tell you that I 100% expected to die during that hard time, and sometimes would have considered it a relief. I still have bad days (that “One Day at a Time” thing…) but I have the clarity to enjoy the GOOD ones, of which there are many. Faith and humor are key. Oh, and boundaries, on occasion.
One Day at a time, by the Grace of God. Even if I might have bad days, or whine a little. You know, just to keep it real!
One beggar showing another beggar where she found food. When I couldn’t love myself enough to lift myself up, I crawled back to Jesus, and He said “You look hungry… come to the table!” Redemption is the best feast ever.
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Time Management
By: Jana Greene
There is a commercial on television recently in which a husband asks his wife, “Honey, can I quit my job and start a blog?” and it comes on frequently. I’ve no idea what it is advertising, because I always feel a little squirmy when I see it and forget to pay attention to the product. Inevitably, it runs when my husband and I are cuddled up watching NCIS or the 20th special showing on Avatar on FX.
I quit my job and started this blog. Although that was not my intention when I put in my 2-weeks notice. I meant to take a little time to get healthier and reassess my goals and maybe do a little writing between interviews for a new, less stressful position. But two days after my last day of work, I broke my leg and had a metal plate, pins and screws surgically implanted so that I could walk again. This unforseen accident serendipitously allowed for more writing time than I expected. I would, I avowed, write a book – which is at the top of my bucket list anyway, so why not knock it out?
Except – as I mentioned – I started this blog. And I love writing for the blog! I’m walking again, so I’m enjoying all of the domestic things I was too tired to do when I was working fulltime – cooking, cleaning, a little reading, spending time with my family. And I’m blogging, sometimes for hours. The days fly by at warp speed, and the days are good. Because I’m walking again, it is getting to be time to seek financially gainful employment, not just spiritually fulfilling purpose. I’m so grateful that I’ve had this block of time to focus on just writing.
So, I might not be posting for The Beggar’s Bakery every single day. I’d like to concentrate a little on writing an actual book. I’m not that swell with time management; if I’m going to do it, I have to make it priority.
Please sign up to receive new posts via email, if you’d like. And check back often. I will try to post at least every few days!
A big, fat THANK YOU to everyone who reads The Beggar’s Bakery. The biggest, fattest thanks for my Most Excellent Husband, who believes in my writing; who believes in me, period. It’s so cool to be married to my best friend and have his unwavering support. I have to pinch myself most days to be sure it is all real; that I’ve gotten to write every day, that my husband encourages me to blog honest, that my friends cheer me on even though I sometimes embarrass myself, and that God just keeps showing me such grace in recovery and in life.
I can’t wait to see where God takes me next, and to share it here.
God bless!
From Outside of the Circle: My 50th Blog Post
By: Jana Greene
Observations from Outside of the Circle
A Writer Looks at 50 First Blog Posts
My dear friend, Liz, and I were at the beach, watching her six-year-old son play. He had found a long stick of driftwood and was using it to draw a tight circle around himself in the sand. When he was done, he sat down in the center, knees drawn up to his chest.
“It keeps the monsters out,” he said, matter-of-factly. With the imagination of a child, he enjoyed the safety of his circle. Pleased with himself, pleased with the illusion that he was safe…that although he could get out, nobody else could get in. It reminded me of writing.
I don’t think I’ve ever written every day for fifty days in a row before. Even though it’s my passion, I’m too wonky and inconsistent to employ the self-discipline. But today, as I write the 50th blog post for The Beggar’s Bakery, I am keenly aware that I have so much to learn about the craft.
Learning be true to my own story. God didn’t give me a love for writing so that I can be someone else’s mouthpiece. I’m working on the bad habit of second-guessing myself all of the time.
Learning to be as honest as I can. This is difficult, because when I write in my most honest voice, I will potentially offend/shock/elate/disappoint/inflame/inspire/make nauseous any number of friends and strangers.
Learning to treat heavy subject matter with gentle care. Addiction, rejection, the difficult aspects of parenting and marriage, self-condemnation and the theology of grace. And that could be the combined topic for any given Tuesday. “Keeping it real” may help someone in a similar situation know that they are not alone. At the very least, it helps keep me humble, sober and realistic.
Learning to appreciate the writing community. I have gotten to know other writers who, much like sponsors in recovery, love to encourage new bloggers. They are amazingly, selflessly supportive.
Learning to let others IN. Anyone who has battled addictions knows that you protect your secret with your life, until it becomes your entire life to protect it. By it’s very nature, alcoholism demands keeping others out. It just makes sense to me, then, that recovery means letting others in.
At some point during the past 50 days, I realized that I don’t want to live in a tight little circle anymore; writing to be pleased with myself, pleased with the illusion that I am safe…. that although I can get out, nobody else can get in. That self-drawn circle is cramped and predictable, and the edges are the same in every direction. Writing is stepping out of self-preservation in order to let others in. It is running full on- to the sand, inviting others to join me, even though the tide keeps rearranging the landscape.
Constantly rearranging it.
And what about the monsters that the circle was supposed to keep out?
Honestly, none of my monsters has ever respected my boundaries anyway.
Musings of a Gypsy Soul 