Between God and Me and No One Else

A recent conversation with my husband, Ryan:

Me: "I have a hair appointment Thursday.  I'm going to have her cut my hair even shorter this time.  And dye it a little darker, too."
Ryan: "Okay."
Me: "It's kind of annoying having to go in for appointments more frequently to keep it shorter.  And always having to flat-iron it so it doesn't look weird.  I have honestly considered just shaving it off.  That would be way easier."
Ryan: "Haha.  Okay.  Your hair, your head."
Me: "Good answer, Babe."

And that is representative of how Ryan always responds in this type of conversation, not just regarding my hair.  My fitness level, my decision to have a permanent contraception procedure, my tattoos: I cannot think of anything having to do with my body – appearance or otherwise – that he has ever made me feel was anything other than my own decision.  And not out of indifference, either, but in a way that makes it clear that he will support whatever I decide.

It would simply never occur to my husband to think that I need his permission for any of these choices.  I'm only recently beginning to fully appreciate this about him.

When I was twelve, I wanted to start shaving my legs.  I tried to talk to my mom about it, but she told me I had to ask my dad.  My dad examined my shins (yes, really), said he didn't think they were that bad, so no shaving.  The discussion continued off-and-on for a few days, but he just didn't think it was necessary yet.  His mind was made up, the answer was no.

This is just one example of the many ways I was taught that choices about my body (or really any woman’s body) could not be made without the “wisdom” of a male authority.  In such teaching, the father is the intermediary until a girl is married, then her husband fills that role.  I still feel a twinge of humiliation about some of these things and still wrestle with the effects of being taught these (and other) distorted views about my body.  I know that my parents’ actions were a result of what they were taught in Evangelical/Homeschooling culture.  I know that they were not trying to humiliate me and they truly believed they were teaching me “Godly” principles.  I know I should be thankful that there are other areas where they did not adhere so strictly to the teachings from that culture. 

But still.

For years now, I have shaved my legs every single day.  Even during the cruel Midwestern winters when layers of warm clothing prevent so much as an ankle from peeking out.  Even when I was nine-months pregnant and unable to see my feet.  Even at times when Ryan and I are on completely opposite work schedules and don't see each other for days.  I shave my legs every single day for no other reason than I absolutely hate the way it feels not to have my legs shaved.  Read into that whatever else you will, but it’s my body and I’ll shave my legs if I want to.  I’ll also shave my head if I want to and get tattoos if I want to and never be pregnant again if I don’t want to.

I realize that will sound dangerously rebellious to some people; even as I wrote it, I could hear the teachings from my youth in the back of my mind trying to make me feel guilty for the boldness with which I am so publicly defying them.  But I've come to believe that much of what I was taught about bodies is a distortion of the truth.  Jesus was the Word made flesh, the mystery of the divine in physical, human form.  Why would God choose that if human bodies were something to be ashamed of?  Why would he give me a body if I couldn't even be trusted with the opportunity to make good choices with it?

I do not need to be ashamed of my body, nor do I need to look for the permission of some falsely-established human authority (father, husband, or otherwise) for the choices I make regarding it.  As long as I am not inflicting harm or dishonoring my commitments, no one else has a right to tell me what I should or should not do with the body God entrusted to me.

In fact, no one else has the right to make decisions for another person's body at all.  At my most basic, I am a person in a body – before I am a woman, a wife, or a mother.  A person’s body requires neither the approval nor the permission of another person. Maybe some of the choices I make (like my tattoos) are, at least in a way or in part, a physical symbol that I’m learning to embrace my body as a gift God gave to me and that I refuse to go back to a time when I was made to feel I couldn't be trusted to decide what is best for it.

And if I live more fully in my body with tattoos and shaved legs, that is between God and me and no one else.

"I do not recall ever being told that my flesh is good in church, 

or that God takes pleasure in it. 

Yet this is the central claim of the incarnation—

that God trusted flesh and blood to bring divine love to earth." - Barbara Brown Taylor

All That I Still Have to Learn

While on vacation this summer, I read the book “Leaving Church” by Barbara Brown Taylor.  Near the end of the book, there is a passage where she describes the things she is keeping as she moves on to where life takes her, and the things she is going to pack away.  She writes first of a cross, made out of nails and gifted to her when she first arrived at the parish she is preparing to leave, that it had been lost for years and just then recovered and returned to her.  She continues:

I’m glad to have it back, although I have many more, which I liked to wear back when a cross meant only love to me.  Now I know too many people who regard it as a weapon.  Some have been cut too deeply by it, not once, but over and over again, while those who wield it like a rapier seem to believe that their swordplay pleases God.  Either way, I find myself reaching for symbols with less violence in them.

The one I wear most often now is a silver circle with three waves curling toward each other in the center.  Jesus is one of those waves, but he is not the only one.  When his wave breaks, the Holy Spirit’s wave picks up where his left off, and when the Holy Spirit’s wave breaks, the water spills back toward the Wave Maker.  The clerk who sold me this circle told me that it did not stand for anything, but I knew better.  I knew I needed a symbol for the fullness of God, which cannot be reduced to any one name alone.  While I wear the circle, I will keep the cross, even though I am not sure that the symbol can survive its abuse.

When I read this, I immediately knew that I wanted a tattoo of the three-wave circle.  It’s not a religious symbol, at least not the way a crucifix or a rosary is, but it has deeply significant meaning to how I have come to understand and embrace my faith. The more I turned it over in my mind, the more meaning it took on.

It is difficult to fully explain all that this symbol has become to me and why I wanted it as a tattoo.  I attempted to explain it to Chris, the artist who does my tattoos, and never found the right words.  Of course, I was trying to explain it out loud, which I struggle with.  I’ll make an attempt to do it justice here, in written words, but I some things mean more than words can express. 

This tattoo does symbolize the fullness of God, but that is only the beginning.  It also symbolizes learning to embrace my faith and finally understanding that my faith is made real in the wrestling, the questioning, the re-evaluating, the storms and the peace.  It stands for the vastness of all I still don't know, but the grace to keep growing and changing and letting new revelations wash over me. 

Finally, it signifies that I have made peace with knowing that the way I experience God and understand my faith is not the same way many of the people I love and respect experience God and their faith.  Just as the vastness of the ocean can affect us all differently and evoke different responses from different people, the same is true for how each of us experience God; that is part of the beauty and mystery of both God and the sea. 

When I first started getting tattoos, I thought that they should all have a deep and personal meaning, but I’ve since realized that it’s fine to get a tattoo just because you like it.  My next tattoo may simply be something beautiful that will compliment my magnolia.  But this one is deeply significant to me and will likely take on more meaning as my faith evolves.  The fullness of God, embracing my faith with all that I still have to learn, and being at peace with how I experience God – that's the meaning I explain for now.



Worth Waiting For

I have this poem rattling around in my head. It has a part about writing on your hand in pen to remember stuff. I hope it sounds better than that when I finally get it out of my head and in to poem form. I hope it is worth waiting for.

Speaking of worth waiting for.... I FINALLY got my tattoo finished today! I wish I could make up some new words to express how much I love it. I think my tattoo artist, Chris Carter at Fate Tattoo, is one of the most amazing artists ever. I can't believe this amazing tattoo is on MY arm!

So... I need to get back in to writing. I need.... to do a lot of things. I really hope I can find some determination and motivation. Before I completely lose my ability to write. At all.

Good Things Come?

I may have mentioned before that patience is not my strong suit. I was planning to have my tattoo finished today, but that didn't exactly happen. In a way I can't believe it still isn't finished after three sessions. However, my artist is AMAZING and pays such attention to detail (maybe a masters degree in painting will do that to a guy) and has put in at least ten hours on it so far. I know I am extremely biased here since this is that tattoo design I chose and it is on my arm, but can you believe how beautiful this is?

So even though I really wish it was done, I'm kinda getting the whole thing about good things coming to those who wait. Chris probably could have done this in fewer sessions, but would I really have wanted him to when it is turning out like this? And, truth be told, after five hours today I was getting tired of sitting and my arm was getting really sore. I know this will all be worth it when I see the final product. Soon....

Freefall?

This is my last night of mandatory writing for a while. If I get my tattoo finished Sunday, I plan to post about that, but there will likely be no post tomorrow. This is good, since I will be cleaning and cooking all day tomorrow and will have a house full of people tomorrow night. I am a crazy person.

I really don't know what to write about. I was thinking about a post to explore why I don't fit in at church. Then I was thinking about a post that recaps the month or one about how I am not qualified to be a mother. Or a post about how I used to be a better writer than I am now. Those things will have to wait.

I just read this article about sleep positions. Studies are so interesting to me. I almost failed statistics in college (damn you, stats and what you did to my GPA!), but I think I'm at least a little 'common sense' smart. I often question studies and why the researchers decided to conduct them the way they did. Just this week while watching an episode of 'Mythbusters' where the team was trying to determine if cursing made something less painful, I was reminded of this. They did a test where the subjects had to hold their hand and forearm in a vat of ice water until they could no longer stand the pain. The first time they said random, pre-selected, non-swear words. The second time they let loose with expletives. Of course, they were all able to withstand the freezing pain better the second time, thus supposedly proving that swearing somehow lessens pain.

However, I would argue they haven't actually proven swearing helps you deal with pain unless they had switched between swearing or not-swearing first. Sometimes, when you know the level of pain you are actually going to experience you are better able to brace for it. When I had the original tattoo on my side, I was completely unprepared for how much worse it would hurt than the one on my back. I could barely catch my breath. Yet, when I had it added to, and then later retouched, I was much better able to tolerate the pain because I knew what to expect.

So, when I read the sleep study and found that as a 'Freefall' sleeper, I should be "brash, outgoing, and are very uncomfortable with criticism," I wondered how they came to this conclusion. They have the "very uncomfortable with criticism" part correct. But... seriously? What kind of person likes criticism? The brash and outgoing part is completely not me. I am far too concerned about the consequences of my actions to be brash and far to tied to the glasses-wearing bookworm in my head to be outgoing. I wish I had more information on how they conducted this study!

I really have little else to say about this, other than I dislike being pigeonholed based on how people think I should be or act or react. I'm a person, not a study. A person who needs to be a better person and better mother and better writer, but I'm doing the best I can. Is that ever enough?

Un-Me

Today I did something completely un-'me'. I took an entire day for something I wanted to do.... all by myself. I have this thing where I am always thinking about other people. Believe me, I do not mean that in an I'm-completely-selfless-and-a-great-person kind of way. I screw up all the time. I let people down. Far too often, I fail to follow-up or follow-thru. What I mean by always thinking about other people is that there are few things I do, with the exception of the typical everyday minutiae, that do not involve giving consideration to at least one other person. This is certainly not a bad thing. Such is life when you are a wife/mother/daughter/sister/friend/employee.

What I did today was foreign to me that I actually had to make myself stick to it. I went to get my tattoo worked on without anyone else accompanying me. Every other time I've been tattooed, I've had at least one friend with me. It is so fun to make a whole day of it with a friend or some friends, to share that time and that experience, and to all come away with your own piece of permanent art. So being alone was a little weird at first, but I'm so glad I did it. I had almost three hours of time to just drive, listen to music, think, pray, and observe all the crazy drivers. I am friends with my tattoo artist, but he gets easily absorbed in his work so even my time at the shop left me with a lot of time inside my own head.

My tattoo isn't finished yet and my arm is throbbing, but I feel strangely relaxed. I know this will not be a frequent occurrence in the future, but I need to try to make time to do something like this once or twice a year. To do something all alone, away from my house, to take some time to regroup. I love the times I get to spend going on a date with my husband sans kids and (most of) the times I spend with just my kids and the times I spend with friends. Yet I realized that somehow in all that planning of special times with other people, I was counting those times as my "me" time. Today I remembered that it is okay to take some "me" time for only me.

A Half Tattoo is Better Than Nothing

I realized something about myself this morning. When something is really bothering me, I tend to shy away from some of the things that might help me the most. Even though I know I shouldn't be that way, I guess I just feel that I don't have what it takes to force myself to expend the additional mental and emotional energy needed to do what I should. One of the things that helps me is my writing, but I just haven't been making myself do it. I have more thoughts on this, but I'm not ready to write them out quite yet. I will though. And I'm going to do another write-everyday-month next month. I need to get myself back on track.

Until then, here is a pic of my new tattoo! Kind of! The artist scheduled two of my friends and me for appointments that day, but then he got a pseudo-girlfriend and made plans with her for Saturday night and didn't have time to finish my tattoo. Now I have to drive all the way back up there next month to get the rest of my tattoo. I am completely annoyed by this, but good things come to those who wait, right? RIGHT??

Just imagine it looks like the picture of the flower from my previous post.

That's what I'm doing.

Sunshine, Yoga, and Another Tattoo

Wednesday was the first day in months I actually let myself think Spring might not be dead after all. The sun was shining and I got to leave the office for lunch and go on a drive and listen to the live Jack Johnson CD with the sunroof open. I found a dress for my friend's wedding. Even though work is still totally terrible and depressing, I had a few really good moments. That was nice.

Today it is rainy/cloudy and we are expecting rain off and on for the next week. It is also only going to be in the 50s, so I'm not really excited about that. However, I will take 50s and raining over 20s and snowing any day (you know, if 80's and sunny aren't an option).

I still feel all weird and not myself, but I'm taking some steps to try to get myself out of this funk. The first thing I did was to take up yoga. I ordered a Barbara Benaugh DVD and a pretty green mat from Amazon, in search of some serious zen. I figure I must do something to help me stop feeling so frustrated with the weather and the way things are going at work. I'm about a week and a half into my yoga experiment, so I'm trying to tell myself this could just be a yoga crush. But I must say that I'm loving it. I love that when I feel myself getting stressed at work, I think to myself "Make your out-breath deeper. Lower your shoulders." and then I do that and it actually helps.

AND..... tomorrow is tattoo day! I'm finally getting my next tattoo and it's gonna be beautiful! (I hope. That's the plan anyway.) This week has been weird and sad and stressful, but tattoo day is finally almost here and I am finally getting SO EXCITED! I have wanted something on my arm for a long time and I can't wait to see how it turns out! I'm getting really tired of not having something to fill this huge blank spot on my arm.

So... that is my update. Sunshine+yoga+tattoo = chipping away at a serious funk. Now, if I can just make it to summertime...

My To-Do List

I have a lot on my mind. Yes, I know everyone does, but I think all the stress at work and the being sick and the having sick kids has overwhelmed my brain. I'm having trouble keeping track of all the stuff I should be doing or even want to do. What better time for a to-do list post? Here are some things on my to-do list, in absolutely no particular order:

1. Have a good weekend. Last week, last weekend, and this week were terrible. This weekend MUST be a good one.

2. Find the motivation to finish that one thing at work I've been putting off because no one cares that it isn't finished.

3. Get another tattoo. I'm surprised that didn't make the #1 spot since I've been obsessing about it so much. But I did say no particular order.

4. Fold the laundry. Almost all of our clothes are clean, but they are piled in the laundry room in baskets. Somehow I have managed to find the time to continue washing and drying the laundry, but not the motivation to fold it.

5. Catch up on the boys photo albums. I don't do scrapbooking. I have neither the time, nor the creativity, to scrapbook. However, I have determined that I will put their photos chronologically in albums instead of stashing them in boxes like my mom did with photos of my sisters and me.

6. Finish reading those three books I've started. Yeah... I suck.

7. Figure out how to transfer my BC prescription from our old insurance prescription service to the new one.

8. Volunteer again at the Freestore Foodbank. Great organization and I think I should support them with my time and not just my money.

9. Get a pet otter. They are so cute! (Okay, so Ryan already told me I can't have one and I know this is completely unrealistic, but I still want one.)

10. Learn to speak Spanish. What list would be complete without learning a second language? Plus, I need to understand the locals a little when we go to Spain to visit my friend Maria.

11. Learn to play golf. My husband and my son are already into it and my youngest is interested. I own clubs. I need to learn to play so it can be a family activity.

12. Get the blue marker stain off the carpet in the living room. Ryan made an attempt at it today, but now it's just a big, blue smudge. I need to take care of it before we can have company again.

Okay. I think that's enough for now. I know the pet otter thing is ridiculous. But I've said I want an otter for years, so I have to put it on every list even though I know in reality that is crazy and I'm not getting one. For the remaining items.... good luck to me.

Yes, Another Tattoo Post

I can't believe I never even posted an update on what I did for my last tattoo, and here I am obsessing about wanting another one. This is the update to what I had before. I love, love, love it.

I love it so much, in fact, that I really am very seriously considering the tattoo on my arm thing. I have something for Ryan and the boys and something for my mom, but I don't have anything for my dad. There is a cuckoo clock my dad's parents always had on their wall and I am thinking that would look great on my upper arm with some ivy around it. The time would be 11:27 for his birthday.

I am still a little nervous about getting something in a way more obvious and less-easily-concealed place. Yet, when I think about my other tattoos, I think of how much a part of me they are now and how it seems that they really were always supposed to be there. For instance, when I look at my wedding photos and see myself there in my strapless wedding dress, it seems like something is missing. Oh, it is. My flowers and ivy.

So, even though there is that tiny part of me that wonders if when I'm 75 if I will regret having an almost half-sleeve, I'm pretty sure that after a while it will seem like it like I was always supposed to have it.

What to Do?

My mind still has some thoughts swirling around regarding my topic from yesterday, but I need some time to catch them and make them into something concrete. I noticed that it has been over three months since I've written a post obsessing about tattoos. So while I'm still thinking of what to say on other, deeper topics, I will post some randomness about my tattoo obsession.

I've already written about why I like tattoos and what they mean to me so I'm just going to talk about my dilemma. I really want a new tattoo, but I also really want to add on to one I already have. As (good) tattoos are not inexpensive, I have to choose one or the other. The one I want to add to is the one on my shoulder. It is two wild violets and some ivy. Violets mean 'watchfulness' or 'faithfulness' and I got them to represent the boys and how as their mother I am to be watchful of them, not just in making sure they are safe, but also in the example I set for them. The ivy is for Ryan, as it means loyalty or fidelity. I loved my tattoo after I first got it and I still really love it. But when I look at it now it seems too small. Ivy doen't just grow in a little tiny patch all neatly around some flowers. I think it needs more ivy. I want more ivy.


But.... I also want something new. I still really want a foxtail, not exactly like the one in the picture on the left, but similar. It wouldn't be to represent someone else, it would just be for me. I love foxtails because they remind me of summertime in the country. I love summertime and a foxtail seems way less cliche' than getting a sun on my ankle (not that there is anything wrong with that if you have it). However, I am concerned about how it would translate to a tattoo. It would have to be big enough to get enough detail in, but I don't really want it taking up my entire side or side of my back. Decisions, decisons.

AND... I'm still trying to decide if I want something on my upper arm. I love the idea of magnolia branches and blooms, but that is a big decision to get something in a location that can't be so easily covered (in summertime, anyway). I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. Or maybe I am. *sigh*

Anyway, I am getting tattoo'd next month, I just have to decide with what. The ivy is my default, as I am completely certain I want it and I've already talked to my artist about it. I still have a few weeks to decide if I'm going to put that off and go with something new, so I guess we'll see what happens.

I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that

I lived just the length of it.

I want to have lived the width of it as well.

- Diane Ackerman

Nothing Profound

I have nothing especially interesting to post today, but I have to say that I am LOVING this weather. It feels like summertime! And summertime makes me think of.... getting a new tattoo! What else? I'm not entirely sure of what to get next.

I really want a foxtail since it reminds me so much of summer.


But I also want some magnolias.
Maybe a half-sleeve of magnolias.
Shhhh.... don't tell my mom.

Out of Words

I think I've run out of words. Kind of. I think that for today I've run out of words that I want to write for someone else to read. I've been feeling strange and self-conscious and all in my head. I've been feeling closed off and aloof. There are a lot of thoughts in my head, but they seem confused and better left private.

I hope that tomorrow I will feel different. I guess we'll see. For now I'll just post this.... and a poem about tattoos. Because... well... why not?

It was always supposed to be there
covering that blank spot.
To some,
a clean slate
is a troublesome void.
I could feel it there
before it was visible.
It's amazing
what a needle can reveal.

Obsessing

I need therapy. I got my latest tattoo this past Saturday. For a few days, I was satisfied with that... but not anymore. I am ALREADY thinking about what I'm going to get next. Why do I do this? Why can't I just be satisfied and think about shoes or something?

When I went last May to get my first tattoo, I was convinced it would be my only one. I obsessed over it for months. I spent endless hours looking at pictures of the flowers and the ivy to make sure I found exactly what I wanted. I had my sister help me make a mock-up of it in photoshop so I could envision what it would look like. I looked for hours at pictures of other tattoos so I would know exactly what I wanted. I decided on a non-linear tattoo so it would have no outline and look painted on, rather than one with a thick, black outline. I looked and looked to find an artist in the area who seemed to have the ability to do the type of tattoo I wanted. We made the appointments and had to wait several weeks and I still researched constantly to make sure it was what I really wanted. This was going to be it. My first and only tattoo and it had to be a great one.

Now, one year and three tattoos later, I already want another one. I'm trying to think of what I obsessed about before tattoos, but nothing comes to mind. I read this quote the other day and I think it is really true:

"A tattoo is a true poetic creation, and is always more than meets the eye. As a tattoo is grounded on living skin, so its essence emotes a poignancy unique to the mortal human condition." -V. Vale and Andrea Juno

There is something about having a great tattoo that goes so much deeper than a picture on your skin. It's like purchasing a piece of art that you love, and being able to carry it around with you all the time. You don't have to leave it at home when you go to work or go out for the night. And, provided you are still living (and barring some horrific bodily injury), it can't be lost, stolen, or repossessed.

I think what I love the most is that it belongs to you more than just about anything in life created by another person can belong to you. You may never see the artist again, but owning their art so completely is such a unique transaction. There is something very fascinating about this to me.

It's yours, certainly, but it's also theirs.

I think I've just convinced myself that it's okay for me to obsess about my next tattoo. There are so many aspects about tattoos that I like. At some point, I will stop getting tattoos, but I will always like the ones I have. And I'll never regret having some of my favorite art with me all the time.

"When the designs are chosen with care,

tattoos have a power and magic all their own.

They decorate the body but they also enhance the soul."

-Michelle Delio

Before and After

My tattoo. Before.

I recently began re-attending (is that a word?) the Church I grew up in. This is very strange for me to say out loud or to write because when I left small town Ohio for college in not-quite-as-small-town Indiana, I thought I would never be back there. The church were I grew up was full of very conservative people who homeschooled their kids and tried to guide them into marrying other homeschooled kids. Women could work if they were single or married with no kids, but as soon as they popped out a kid (nine months from their wedding night, preferably) they should stay home and raise those kids and make more kids and then homeschool them when they reached school age. Maybe it wasn't that bad, but that's how it was in my mind. I know there were people there who didn't fit into that stereotype, but the ones who did really got to me.

When I decided against grad school in Indy and moved back home after college, I either didn't attend church or attended other churches sporadically. I was very disillusioned with the whole church thing. To me church was a place you went where people made you feel bad for not conforming and judged you for everything you did that they didn't agree with. When I was growing up, I never drank, smoked, partied, did drugs, swore (ok... maybe a few times), slept around, or blatantly disrespected my parents, but I still wasn't considered a good girl at the church. I wanted to go to the public school and go away to college and I wanted to have a career and the thought of being a stay-at-home mom was quite scary to me. I had a guy friend from that church whose mom constantly hovered around any time we were together. I think her greatest fear was that he would somehow fall for me and I would corrupt him beyond redemption.

So.... skip ahead to the present. It's more than I want to type here, but the story involves one of the few times in my life I heard God tell me to do something. And I know this means nothing to anyone who doesn't know me, but I truly am not the kind of person who constantly goes around saying that I 'heard God' about something. However, this was really obvious and SO not what I wanted to hear, that I can't explain it any other way. He said I needed to go home and that 'home' was the church I grew up in. I know it sounds crazy. I thought it was crazy. But if anyone has read any of my other blog posts they already know I'm crazy. What's a little more? Of course, me being the compliant person I am, I responded by deciding I would go back.... but only so it would be obvious that I didn't belong there.

My first Sunday back, I purposely dressed up nice (it's a pretty casual place) in a dress that showed the tattoo on my back. Ryan works weekends so he couldn't go with us. I figured that when I showed up all tattoo'd, with my kids and no husband, no one would talk to me and I would be off the hook for having to go back again. But..... despite that many things were the same, so many things were different. It seems that in the time since I left many people in the church started filling in gaps in community services. They started just meeting the needs of people in the community, no strings attached. Soup kitchen. Food pantry. Counselling center. Coffee house/place for kids to hang out. Arts programs. I looked around the sanctuary and saw a vast array of people.... Different races. Single moms. Recovering addicts. Adults with special needs. I was completely shocked.

Since I've been back I've heard people say things that actually make sense! Like, if you are pro-life it is your responsibility to support those moms who keep their babies. If you're pro-life you should be foster parents or adoptive parents. Someone has to take care of those kids. They can't be raised in a vacuum. I've heard again and again that Christians should study the way Jesus treated people and treat them that way. Who were the people who angered Jesus the most? Religious leaders who were too absorbed in their own agendas to look around and take care of the basic needs of people around them. Who were the people Jesus spent time with? The people who had needs - not just spiritual, but physical and emotional. It's not about converting people. It's about treating them like Jesus would treat them. You can't convince someone to be a Christian. But you can love them and pray for them and accept them where they are. I'm still amazed at times that it is the same place, with a lot of the same people in attendance.

No person is perfect. For sure, no church is perfect. I know there are still attitudes I don't agree with on some topics. But I think this is the first time I've experienced a change of heart in people on such a scale. Last week I saw this very conservative, home-schooling, mother-of-six talk to, and then hug, a guy who has long hair, wears thick black eye-liner, and every Sunday wears some sort of skirt that appears to be fashioned out of a pair of old cargo pants. The crazy thing is, this doesn't seem to be an act. These people really do seem to care about others regardless of how they look or what they do.

So, I have to say, it really has felt like going home... or the way I think going home should feel. This is the closest thing I've seen to how I think a church should be. Sure, there are one or two people who I know probably speculate on what happened when I was gone for those years. I'm sure there are people who think I'm crazy for the choices I've made, who don't agree with my lifestyle of being a working mom who has lots of friends who don't go to church (or even believe in God), but those people don't get to me anymore. Remember the hover-mom? I'm sure she is thrilled her son didn't marry me! I really don't care. I've made
some good friends over the past few months and reconnected with some old ones. I've learned a lot about myself. And no one has said anything bad about my tattoos.

My tattoo. After a free-hand addition yesterday.

Tattoo Day

This morning I got up early (for the weekend) which to my kids means they should wake up early too. Ugh. I promised them last night we would have a breakfast picnic since we got home too late from grocery shopping for them to have a picnic last night. I planned to have some kind of non-messy breakfast food (like apple slices or pop tarts) for this, but when we went to choose what they wanted, they chose Cheetos and cheesy rice cakes and fruit snacks. Sadly, since I still needed to get myself ready to go, I just let them eat that for breakfast. I resigned myself long ago that I'd never win a mother-of-the year award, so.... whatever.

Sara and I both got tattoos today. Our appointments started at noon and we were scheduled for three hours each. This means we spent the entire day at the shop. And by entire day I mean it was after 9 o'clock when we left. It is slightly annoying, that it seems impossible to get tattoos in a reasonable period of time.... but you tend to forget about that because it really is incredibly interesting to spend an entire day in a tattoo shop. I've heard people say an airport is great people-watching, but I don't really get that. Airports are just full of pissed off people hurrying to sit and wait and then be herded into over-crowded airplanes. Tattoo shops, on the other hand, provide a vast array of people to observe, talk to, or talk about. Here is a sampling of the people we encountered today:



View from inside the shop

A mom who brought her 14 year old daughter in for a belly button piercing. When told the minimum age is 15, the woman proceeded to whine about it while her daughter demanded "Fine, Mom. You're still getting me something today." Yeah.... because no one should ever have to deal with disappointment.

Lots of other people came in for piercings too. The most memorable was a lady all decked out in a super tight black skirt and a 50's style blouse. Her hair was enormous and crazy and she had a little black hat with netting perched on the side of her head. She came in to get some sort of face piercing. She seemed like a funny and interesting person, but it was impossible to really focus on anything other than the hair and the hat.

A parade of barely legal girls came to visit the guys working at the shop. I'm not saying it's my place to tell these 30-something guys how to spend their free time, but good call not going to the party at her house while her parents were out of town.... even though she is mad at you now and only came in to talk to you for a few minutes instead of however long she usually stays.

A mother and daughter came in to get matching tattoos. Chinese symbols of their last name. That's fine if that's what you like. But then we got to hear all about how the daughter already had a tattoo and it didn't hurt at all and all the guys in the shop told her she was weird for not feeling how bad it hurt. Oh, and next week she is coming back to get a tattoo of Elmo. I have nothing nice to say about that so I will move on.

Some people came in to make appointments for some interesting (and some for common) tattoos. One lady was trying to decide on some type of bird. One girl wanted a pink ribbon with a scripture reference. One wanted some stars and swirly things. A guy came in to get a cover-up of a name on his arm. He wanted a black cross. Thankfully the artist he was working with managed to convince him to wait and think about what it would be like to walk around with his entire upper arm covered with a giant black cross.

It's funny to watch the artists interact with people. You can tell the people they like. They spend a lot of time talking with them and joking around with them. You can tell the people who come in with ideas that annoy them. But they do seem to try to work on every client's ideas to make them translate into a tattoo as well as possible. And they try to talk people out of absolutely terrible ideas, which is really great to watch.

We also encountered a very strange guy at a nearby coffee shop. He made fun of my new tattoo, saying I couldn't really call it a tattoo because it was more like a quarter of a tattoo. He also made fun of Sara's tattoos (she has her daughters' names tattooed on her wrists) and then tried very awkwardly to show her the unfinished tattoo he has on his back that he considers a real tattoo.

People are funny and weird and scary and annoying and fascinating. It was a pretty good day. Despite that almost all of it was spent people-watching in a tattoo studio.

Blog Block and Tattoos

So... I, like some other people I know, seem to have blog block today. I will post some randomness to fill this gap in my blog posts.

Tattoos. When I was in college, I thought for two seconds about getting a tattoo. Then I thought... that would be really stupid, since you have no way of knowing if you will still want it 10 years from now. Just get a piercing.

Eight years later, I got a tattoo. And then another one 9 months after that. And next Saturday, I'm getting another and having my second one added to because it feels unfinished. I no longer worry about how I will feel about them 10 years from now. I think the ones I've chosen are pretty timeless... if you can use that word for tattoos. I also have chosen to put them in places that are quite easy to cover.

The reactions you get from people when you have tattoos are widely varied. Some people love them, some hate them. Some are indifferent. My friend Sara wrote a blog once on what she thought people thought about her, being a mom and having several tattoos. Although tattoos, unlike skin color or the shape of your nose, are something you get to choose, I still think it really is important to get to the place where you really don't care if other people disapprove of your appearance before you get a tattoo. If you've really put a lot of thought and effort into your tattoo and chose a really great artist, chances are you are going to absolutely love it and other people's opinions really aren't going to be an issue.

Now I kind of forget why I was writing about this in the first place.

Oh... right... My new tattoo will be the word 'Love,' which I know seems incredibly cliché but I'm getting it to represent to me Colossians 3:14 -- "Regardless of what else you put on, wear Love. It is your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it." And I want it on my arm where I can see it every day. (I can see my other ones every day, but one is on my back/shoulder so I need a mirror to see it and the other is on my side where I can't really see it except when I'm getting ready in the morning). I've had quite a few people tell me I shouldn't get it on my arm. That they think it will look strange. That I should get it on my foot if I really have to get it. But isn't it just as bad to get a tattoo you want, but not where you want it, as it is to get a tattoo of something you aren't sure about? It's kind of permanent. It's not like you can peel it off and move it.

So... here is a fake representation of my new tattoo. I want it to be muted green so it's not like a huge black mark on my very pale arm. The script sucks because it is really difficult to write from that angle. (And did I mention my arm is really pale and scary looking?) But... this is what I really want. I think it will turn out okay. As long as I like it, that's what really matters, right?