calling

We talked about "calling" in our community group on Sunday. We talked about it in a vocational sense and in a broader sense. Vocationally, I feel it in my belly that I'm supposed to be a mom (not in a pregnant way). I think I'm good at being a manager because I'm bossy yet loving, but I don't want to do it forever.

In a broader sense, I have always felt the need to be honest. I have not always been honest, but I've seen and felt the healing that comes from telling the truth. Someone once told me that I was a "fixer" who always had to "fix" things. And perhaps so, but that need has grown I think, into hopefully something a little more loving.

I have learned through marriage that other people do it (marriage) differently and I'm not a marriage counselor. I'm sure I'll learn the same thing about parenting when I have kids and more of my friends have kids. I told myself at the beginning of the year that I wanted to work on deepening my relationships. I deleted my facebook, which I think has helped my relationship with my husband a bit. And I wanted to make a point of having those tough conversations with people I love rather than hoping things will blow over.

Just Sunday, I got my feelings hurt by my dear friend. I didn't want to respond immediately because I couldn't quite put my finger on why I was upset. Monday morning I shot a quick email just saying, "hey, I'm hurt by this, and I love you," and within five minutes I got a phone call. "Hey, you at work?... let me in... Let me in! I'm at the front door." I go to the front door of my store and let my friend in. We hugged and cried and said I love you. And then hugged some more.

It's too easy to sit around and stew over things, and then put that cloud of yuck around those people who you chose not to talk to about whatever the issue, and assume assume assume. It turns your heart black.

As far as the "fixer" issue goes... the other night I was sitting around a table of musicians practicing for our show next week. Concert. Show. I don't know lingo. Regardless, one of them set a pen on the table. Music was playing - guitar, drum, banjo, and trombone. The pen started to roll toward the edge of the table... I sat and stared at it, humming along, and peacefully fought (?) the strong desire to say loudly over the musical instruments "ERR!! Blaaa... yer pen!" It quietly rolled off the table, the guy leaned down to pick it up, and set it back on the table so it wouldn't roll off again. I didn't implode. Practice wasn't ruined. My mind smiled. I have control issues, if you didn't know.

Which is another reason why when people don't get enough sleep and they continue to get sick and eat unhealthily, I want to punch them in the throat. I'm a jerk.

Friday, Tyler and I are going to Sump, which is a very serious coffee shop in the city. I think it's probably similar to Double Shot, but I won't know until we go! From there, we're going to Springfield, MO to spend the weekend with the Stewarts. I'm pumped. Two more days of work.