Parental Guidance

My mother always said, “Love ends when you have to pick his dirty underwear up off the floor!” I would laugh or roll my eyes, depending on how old I was at the time - we all remember those teenage years when your mother could do nothing right, right? - but something about that statement always fascinated me.  Was it sarcasm? Was it underlying resentment masked in a joke? Was it true?!

Well, I’ve been married for a whole 2 months now, and I have picked up more than a few dirty underwear off the floor, and I giggle to myself every time (after rolling my eyes and holding my breath, of course). For me, the love hasn’t ended. Besides, if I can pick up my dog’s poop off the living room floor (he has anxiety issues) and still love him and his stinky dog breath, then I should be able to love my husband even though he leaves his dirty underwear on the floor. Right? ;)

Pride & Pedestals ~ Part 2

Fa la la la la la la la la.

It’s that time of year when Christmas music is playing 27/7 everywhere you go. For some, it’s torturous, but for me, it’s heaven!

For 7 years (84 performances, and countless practices) I was involved in a Christmas production called the Singing Christmas Tree – a gigantic bellowing bush, filled with people (only their heads were visible) and very sparkly lights. It was all-encompassing. It completely took over my life. And I loved every minute of it.

It’s been a few years since I graced the Broadway (church) stage, but every year at Christmas time I miss it just a bit more. Not enough to go back and sign up to another 80+ performances, but… enough. 

Pride & Pedestals

I don’t sing anymore, except for in the car or around the house. It’s been a few years since I was actively involved in any way, shape, or form; so now, when I do sing, I am definitely not as good as I used to be. It saddens me but at the same time, I don’t miss the 3-5 days a week that were consumed by choirs, commuting, and coffees. It was exhilarating for a time, and I was living a life of passion…through the music, and using my voice. But that was then. Back when I wanted to be in church. Back when I still loved hanging around with people of the same faith.  Singing up on stage with my fellow musicians, being put on a pedestal, and (ridiculously so), being adored for it. Why did they adore me? And why, when stopped hiding behind the doors of the church and the heights of my pedestal did they disown me?

Others grew up, got married, left the church, or just moved on. I stayed. Stayed on that stage. Stayed on that pedestal for far too long. And when I realized I was stuck, I tried to jump down, and landed hard. When I landed, I realized that I didn’t know anyone any more. I was a stranger in the church I had been a part of for nearly 20 years. Sure, I knew names and faces, but I no longer KNEW anybody, and nobody really KNEW me. So, after I tumbled down off of my high-horse, bruised, but feeling so very free and happy, I realized I was alone. And I left. I left the church, but I never left God. More so, he never left me.

During a recent trip to Disneyland where the princesses are known for their singing abilities as well as their frilly dresses and tiaras, I found myself skipping along the streets of Disneyland singing along to the music that was in the air and all around me.  I wanted to sing. And I didn’t care who heard me. No inhibition, I just let it out. My husband said to me, while we were standing in line for food minutes before I met Rapunzel, ‘When we get home, you should join a choir. You love to sing and I want you to be happy and follow your passion.’  I turned to him and I was beaming. As was he. And I knew… it’s time.