Nothing like a good parable, right?

At 12 a.m. last night, Mrs. M. was in bed. I started a load of laundry for her. I sat down on her loveseat and thought to myself, "Great. There's nothing else to do but...read the Bible." Hey, I'm just putting it out there as honestly as I can. I did bring it with me to work, but I truly did not want to read it. So, I sat down, opened it up to where I left off, and said, "God, I don't want to read this. I really don't feel like it."

After reading one chapter, I got nothin'.

Starting the next one, though, was different.

Bear with me. I'm copying and pasting it here not just so that others can see it, but also because it's easier for me to refer to it if I have it on the screen rather than, say, in my lap.

Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids

“Then the Kingdom of Heaven will be like ten bridesmaids who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. 2Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. 3The five who were foolish didn’t take enough olive oil for their lamps, 4but the other five were wise enough to take along extra oil. 5When the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and fell asleep.

6“At midnight they were roused by the shout, ‘Look, the bridegroom is coming! Come out and meet him!’

7“All the bridesmaids got up and prepared their lamps. 8Then the five foolish ones asked the others, ‘Please give us some of your oil because our lamps are going out.’

9“But the others replied, ‘We don’t have enough for all of us. Go to a shop and buy some for yourselves.’

10“But while they were gone to buy oil, the bridegroom came. Then those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was locked. 11Later, when the other five bridesmaids returned, they stood outside, calling, ‘Lord! Lord! Open the door for us!’

12“But he called back, ‘Believe me, I don’t know you!’

13“So you, too, must keep watch! For you do not know the day or hour of my return."

Okay, so...I'm pretty familiar with this parable. Some of you might know it better as the Parable of the Ten Virgins. No matter. What new could I possibly find here, right? Five were prepared; five weren't. That's pretty simple. Straightforward. Couldn't possibly be more to it.

See, here's where my mind starts to play games with me. I sat there, after journaling, thinking to myself that I just read way too much into this passage of Scripture that I just read. I was certain that I was being too...oh, I don't know...figurative? Symbolic? Complex?

Maybe I was. Maybe I'm totally off. Maybe I did read way too much into it. I'll share anyway, though, because it seems to have stayed on my mind all day.

The first thing that stood out to me was the amount of oil that each five had and why. Not only did the five Girl Scout bridesmaids have enough oil, they brought extra. Why? Why would they think to bring extra? It seems to me that they were willing to wait as long as it took for the bridegroom. Whatever it was going to take, they were willing. They were ready.

And then we have the five Slacker bridesmaids (i.e. me and maybe you?). Not only did they not bring any extra oil, they didn't even have enough to fill their lamps to begin with. They weren't even prepared to meet an immediate need. They shouldn't have even left. It's like they didn't think they'd really have to use their lamps at all. Maybe they weren't even expecting the bridegroom to come. Or perhaps they just thought it would be easier to coast off someone else's back like they'd been doing all their lives. Maybe they thought the bridegroom himself would get them all set when he came.

Notice that all ten bridesmaids, the Girls Scouts and the Slackers, fell asleep. The Girls Scouts weren't perfect, just prepared.

I can't help but think about what my expectations are of God in my life. Just going by my behavior and knowing my inner thoughts, I sure don't expect much. I don't. I don't expect God to heal or bring together or change circumstances or reward or help or anything, really. Sad, isn't it? The funny thing is that I can believe this for others but not necessarily myself. Well, if I can't believe it for myself, then what good is my "belief" for someone else? What a joke.

Driving on highway 301 earlier this afternoon with my iPod on shuffle, Chris Quilala's "Your Love is Everything" came on. I skipped it. I went back. I skipped it. Nope, go back. One of the lyrics says, "And I will not forget/that nothing is impossible."

What do I believe isn't impossible? I know in my mind that God can enable me to get pregnant. I can reason that in my mind. Sometimes, though, no matter how good something is and how many people try to encourage you about what God's will is and how He grants the desires of our hearts (see Psalm 37:4), God doesn't always do what we think He would do. What if the "impossible" thing God wants to do in my heart is to give me peace about never having "natural" children? What if the "impossible" thing God wants to do in my heart is my acceptance, even my embrace of the truth that He is literally enough, no matter what He decides to give or take away?

I have to stop and think about that for a while. I'll tell you one thing: I do not have enough oil as of right now to be excited about this revelation (if that's even what I should call it). Reading about it, acknowledging it, and even meditating on it is a start, I guess.

I just want to be better.

Gerry is home safe and sound from Boston. No planes nosediving out of the sky. Always a good thing.

The pizza (half pepperoni, half spinach & mushroom) has been eaten. Our tummies are full. Another good thing.

I will be leaving for work in an hour. God keeps providing financially. Can't be anything but good!

I am feeling blah and don't particularly want to go to work. I would really like to sleep in my own bed tonight. I know it is completely and understandably natural to feel this way. The reality is, though, that someone's husband isn't coming home tonight. Someone is hungry tonight. Someone doesn't have a job tonight. Someone doesn't have a bed to sleep in tonight.

These are important things. These are things worthy to be mentioned with a good degree of concern. Not my complancency or my "normality" for feeling the way that I do.

"Normal" may have served its purpose, but really...I'm tired of it. I would like to get beyond "normal" for once. I'd like to actually live above day in and day out blah.

I don't want or expect perfection. I just want to be better.

Insert creative title here

So, here I am beginning yet another blog. I'm not even sure why this blogging desire creeps up every now and then when I know very well that the odds predict I will more than likely abandon it after a few posts. We'll see. And then there's that whole come-up-with-a-snazzy-blog-title thing that drives me crazy. Once you've named umpteen blogs (that you never kept up with), the creative well begins to dry up just a bit.

Esse quam videri. Latin (obviously). Classic. It means "to be rather than to seem to be." Also, nicely enough, it's North Carolina's state motto. Fitting for me, I guess. I am at a sort of crossroads in my life, I think. What a cliché, but it is what it is, and I can't figure out what else to call it. I don't know if you (if there's even a "you" reading this) have ever reached a point where you feel so jumbled up and so...chaotic inside that you feel like it's going to burst forth into a HUGE mess that you just won't have the energy to clean up, but I'm there. I am there. I think I've spent the better part of my life searching for a way to put order to my inside self, but I don't think I can. What am I to do with this mess that's me? The only thing I know to do is to write.

I don't care if anyone ever reads this. I just need to...process. Or attempt to process, anyway.

I have even wondered, even recently, if there's something wrong with me. I don't know if there is or not. I'm inclined to believe that, at the end of the day, the only thing wrong with me is me.

Gerry will be home from Boston in about an hour. It was nice having the bed to myself, but I've missed him. I will readily admit that I can entertain thoughts that are a bit on the morbid side, and I've wondered how I would handle him dying in a plane crash. Oddly enough, I haven't been in fear about it. I haven't really worried about it. It's just a curious thought I've had since he got on the plane on Thursday. I don't know what I would do. I guess I'd just go on living. Then I think to myself about all the times we've said goodbye to each other......going to the store, leaving for work, whatever. And I think about how not one single goodbye would be adequate if something did happen to him. Then I think about all the times when I don't say "I love you" just out of some stupid, spiteful reason. I know we hear all the time about telling your loved ones that you love them, to always be sure there aren't things left unsaid. We can all agree on that, I think. "Yeah, that's right. You never know when your last moment will be." You see in movies all the time some woman sobbing, "But I didn't get to tell him how much I love him..." And then I think to myself, "What is it going to take for me to get to the point where I really get this?" I want to move from point A (knowing cerebrally what I need to say and do) to point B (actually saying and doing it because it's within my heart to do so). Surely there is someone out there who has arrived at point B. I'm just not there yet, but I want to be. I really do.

In a few minutes, I'm going to order a pizza so that I can pick it up on my way to get Gerry at the airport. And you know what? It's not because I know Gerry likes pizza. It's honestly because I'm too lazy to cook supper. I do not want to. Here I am, just talking about getting from one point to another, but I will not resolve to make supper for my husband who's been gone all weekend because I just don't feel like it.

I can't imagine anyone thinking that I'm anything but a "good wife." Bless his sweet heart, even Gerry would insist I'm a "great wife." The truth is that I am not. I'm not. I am not a great wife. I am not a good wife. I'm not even really an average wife. I'm a selfish wife. I'm a lazy wife. I'm a wife who puts herself first. I'm sure I seem otherwise. Hence the super-creative title of this blog. I don't want to seem like anything anymore. I want to be those things.

But, you know what? I'm still going to order a pizza.