Just Pat

"...all language about everything is analogical; we think in a series of metaphors. We can explain nothing in terms of itself, but only in terms of other things." (Dorothy Sayers, Mind of the Maker, 1941)

My Photo
Name:
Location: West Michigan

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Identity

My friend and I went out tonight. We always have the greatest discussions when we get together. I'm a Christian, she's a Buddhist. I don't define our friendship by our differing religious views, but they're there, and they're interesting.

She told me that she intimidates people. I told her she never intimidated me. She replied that the reason was that I was secure in my identity.

It was a wonderful, gracious compliment. She is a wonderful, gracious friend. Why did it feel so lonely when she said it?

My heart's desire is for my friend to know Jesus. The Jesus that loves her, that has grace for her seeking and prodding for truth, who whispers to her in her dreams. The Jesus that gave His life, and calls her to lay down her own. The Giver of life and of rest. The Friend who sticks closer than a brother. I want my friend to love Him.

Am I closed minded for wanting such a thing? Because I can't say to her that I'm glad she has found peace in Buddhist philosphy? Do I want her to know Jesus, or in some twisted way do I want her to be like me?

Do missionaries think about these things?

She said I'm secure in my identity. But I know I'm secure because my identity is in Jesus. He is everything to me. How do I express that to someone who has been there, done that, and chosen Buddha over Jesus? How do I hear her response without weeping at it?

Should I just weep anyway?

I love Jesus. I love my friend. I'll just keep loving them both. Holy Spirit, come.

|

Sunday, November 28, 2004

The Construction Chronicals, Part 5

This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for gypsum and mud.



I came home to find my attic mostly drywalled, my plumbing half done, and my east window installed. I didn't sit on the floor and cry big tears of joy, because the floor's a mess. But, I stayed a while.

It's so amazing to see the drywall over all the studs we placed, all the insulation we stapled, all the wiring we strung. It covers the work I'm proud of and the work that was, well, good enough. It's not essential for structure or warmth, even safety really. But it makes it pretty, and desirable to live in, to adorn.

There are a couple of areas where it is now obvious that the rafters were not completely straight. The casual observer would wonder why care wasn't taken to get it right before covering it with the drywall. But, I know that a lot of care was taken, and that after 100 years of stress, a house gets a little crooked. And, why not celebrate the hard work of 100 years with a little covering? Some creative painting will keep my house's imperfections unobvious to those who don't care about it like I do.

Sometimes we don't cover things to hide them. We cover them to make living among others possible, doing the best with what we have due to the work we've done to get there. To those who care, the craftsmanship is still appreciated beneath the veneer; the stories and the struggles are not lost. When it's time to remodel, the foundation is still there.

Thank you, Lord, for family.

|

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

The Construction Chronicals, Part 4

Some people just can't stop talking about their kids. They go on and on and on. They're consumed.
With me, it's my house. I've been remodeling almost non-stop since I bought it two years ago. It consumes me.
Actually, I can carry on conversations without mentioning my house. But just ask me, "So, what are you doing this weekend?" The answer is always "(Blah blah blah) my house
."
I love my house. It's a diamond in the rough. My gift from God. It doubles as my social center and my artist pallette. I'm into that kind of economy.
Tomorrow the drywall starts in the attic. I could weep for joy.



I'm going to be gone for a week, starting tomorrow evening. I'm going to my neice's wedding on Saturday, and staying through Thanksgiving. When I come back, most of the attic will be drywalled, and I'll sit in the middle of the floor and stare with delight at the marvelous whiteness.


Ahhhhh.

Oops, I went on again about the house, didn't I? I can sense your glazed-over eyeballs across cyberspace. I'd apologize, but hey, whose blog is this anyway?

Happy Thanksgiving.

|

Saturday, November 13, 2004

The Construction Chronicals, Part 3

And for my next performance, my shot to make it into David Letterman's "Top Ten" book:


"10 Strange Things JustPat Does When She's Remodeling"

10. Enters a "Rescue My Home Contest."

9. Lays hammer in obscure place - wastes 2 minutes looking for it.

8. Moves scrap lumber around the room 8 times a day, for no apparent reason.

7. Runs downstairs, leaves phone in attic.

6. Starts laundry while remodeling to multitask. Remembers wet load in washer three days later.

5. Brings phone downstairs from attic. Goes back to attic. Leaves phone downstairs.

4. Lays shop knife in obscure place - wastes 10 minutes looking for it.

3. Naively believes that plumbing is affordable.

2. Leaves spare drill battery in obscure place - lost forever.


And the strangest, for the anal retentive award:

1. Calculates the most economic insulation cuts for hours before actually hanging it.


|

Thursday, November 11, 2004

The Construction Chronicals, Part 2

I've got to get out of public health. There's no real do-re-me money in it. You know where it is? I just found out.



(No, it's not me in the photo and not my plumber, but cool photo, right?)

Oh.
My.
Gosh.

I had no idea. None. And this plumber was going easy on me because he's a good guy (yes, really) and he knows my resources are limited.

It's going to cost me more to run a drain pipe to the attic, run to the toilet and shower area and t-d to the kitchen, than the price I'm refusing to pay for finished kitchen cabinets up there. More than one of my paychecks before taxes. More than my heating bills for the year.

I just watched my deposit walk out the door. It hurt to say goodby to that check, but we had to part. There's no escaping it. An apartment needs a toilet.

I should have been a plumber.

I've calmed down now, but I have this urge to play Donkey Kong and run Mario into those little barrels over and over again.

|

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

The Construction Chronicles, Part 1

(Inspired by Captain Wow's metaphoric housekeeping)



I'm waiting for the Amazing Grace Elephant Company (yes, that's really the name of the company) to come and pick up my trim for dip-stripping. It's been sitting in my foyer since October 9th. It'll take some adjusting after it's gone - it almost became a coat rack.

It's really my house and its chronic state of incompletion that is at the root of
my introspection as of late. Well, not all of my introspection. Part of that is just me.

I bought this house two years ago. I've been able to do a lot to improve its appearance on the first floor. Paint is a miracle! The second floor was another issue. Outdated is too kind; grim is a better word. My family is helping me convert the unfinished attic into an apartment. There's been a lot of work in the last year and a half on the second and third floors, and progress has been made. But I still have drywall dust on my furniture and chunks of insulation on my floor, tools lining my hallway and paint cans in my bedroom.

I'm getting tired of this environment. I'm beginning to lose my vision. I'm having difficulty keeping in mind why I'm doing any of this.

Let me out!!!!!!!!!

But now that I have the place all torn up, I'm past the point of no return. I can't stop. I can't sell it; no one would buy it in this shape. And, I can't leave it as it is because I can't stand it in this shape. And, I'm tired, inside and out.

Metaphors abound...

Did you ever find yourself on a road that began in a good place, with a good plan and a worthy goal, only to find on the way that you were pressed in on every side and alone? Like you couldn't remember why you started on this road in the first place, and what you were striving for? And, that as tired and lonely as you were, you couldn't turn back? Did you hang on? Did you give up?

Have you ever been a friend to someone whose life was in chaos? Someone who had forgotten why they were striving for the prize they treasured in the beginning? Someone about to give up? Did you hang on to them? Did you give up?

At the risk of coming down hard on myself, I'm asking myself right now, tonight, if I can't have patience for this house and its metamorphosis, how can I have patience for people, and for myself?

What if I look at my house project as a crude training ground for loving you better?


|

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Enough about me...what do YOU think of me?


I'm spiralling downward into the abyss of introspection. Help!!!!

But, while I'm careening, let's have fun with it.

I looked around my bedroom as I was making my bed this morning. Starting from the door clockwise:


1. First, there is no door because I had them all stripped and haven't put them back on the jams.
2. A Michigan State Police tote bag containing notes from a conference on October 11.
3. My duffle bag, not completely unpacked from an infection control conference on October 27.
4. My grandma's antique vanity, with my necklaces hanging on the mirror, with a vase and some antique perfume bottles on the stand, and clean folded sheets on the bench.
5. My dresser, with pictures of my parents, my grandma, and two of my neices on the top.
6. A wastebasket that should have been emptied two weeks ago.
7. My grandma's bed (matches the vanity).
8. A picture of my great grandparents over the bed.
9. My nightstand with my books on top.
10. My open closet door with my dirty laundry spilling out of it like it's a cornucopia or something.
11. A small chest with my shoes on it and under it in anal order, with my teddy bear in the center.
12. A Vermeer picture hanging over the bench.
13. Two unopened cans of paint for the bathroom.
14. A dust pan and wisk broom.

I don't know what it means. I could get deep with it, and analyze myself into a straight jacket. Or, not.

What does your bedroom look like? Not in your dreams; I mean right this second?

Get me out of this vortex and tell me about YOU.

Or, if you're feeling particularly sadistic today, tell me about ME...

|

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Right Brain or Left Brain?



A few days ago, I was killing time and thought I'd find one of those websites that gives you a test to determine if you're a left-brain or right-brain person. I took the test a few years ago, on a couple different occasions. My results back then were that I was dead center.

I thought that was pretty fun. I jokingly fancied my self a balanced person that was constantly in conflict with herself.

When I took the test the other night, guess what? Perfect center, and perfectly balanced between auditory and visual learning preferences. After about five years, I'm the same old girl. Wow, thought I.


Then, like an idiot, I read my summary.

...You will tend to feel more conflict than someone who has a
clearly established dominance...Details which will seem important to the right
hemis- phere will be discounted by the left and vice versa, which can present a
hindrance to learning efficiently...You might organize your time and/or space
only to feel the need to reorganize five to ten weeks later...When presented
with situations which force purely visual or purely auditory learning, increased
anxiety is likely and your learning efficiency will decrease... Your balanced
nature might lead you to second-guess yourself in artistic endeavors, losing
some of the fluidity, spontaneity and creativity that otherwise would be yours.
It also said I was able to see the big picture and the details at the same time, and that I am flexible. WOO HOOOO!!!!!!!!

So, I took my conflicted, disorganized, second-guessing hiney and did what any balanced woman would do - I straightened my desk five times and went to bed.

|

Powered by Blogger

Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com