Devil with a blue shirt on...

So I'm very, very angry. Furious really. And I've been furious for about a week now and I just can't shake it. Let me first say for the record, I don't get angry very often...hardly at all really (except for a tiny issue with road rage, and the 4am barker next door, but we'll save those for another time)... And even more seldom do I get angry with anyone other than myself. Do you ever just grate on your own nerves?? Anyway, I'm seething even as I type this and I've been trying to deal with this anger using my usually effective "anger-management repertoire," thus far without even the slightest bit of success.... Let's see... breathing in the bag, sewing, treadmill, calling a friend, various gourmet cheeses, (laugh it up, it usually works...especially a brie/cranberry combo) praying, long drive... still pissed off. Seriously... mad. Like the deep sighs, stomping around, spitting, "How could you?" through clenched teeth kind of mad. (So unlike me, really. If I had a tail, it would be wagging...constantly.) So I brought out the big guns...I watched a scary movie...and then another one. And after that I was slightly less pissed. Slightly. More like distracted.... and right now I'll take distracted. Both movies had "the devil" in them.... I saw the devil and I laughed... funny. And then I reflected (the last item left in my anger-management repertoire)......

The Bible (Ezekiel 28:17) says of the Devil, "Your heart became proud on account of your beauty and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor..." And then there's John 10:10, "The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy..." So I got to thinking.... if the Devil (who knows beauty) has the ability to take any form he wishes, would he really be roaming around in dry ice (Korn blaring in the background) seeking whom he may devour lookin' like this?? Pffft. This guy couldn't even tempt me to under tip.


Nah. He would be fiiiiiine. And charming. And funny. Then I thought some more.... if the question is who could get me to get up off my knees and lock up my prayer closet door, throw my Bible in my panty drawer, slip into the silky comfort of some deadly sins, cross off the 10 Commandments like a to-do list, and dive bangs first into the lake of fire... well, it's this devil...


That's my devil...with the blue shirt blue shirt on. (In addition to grating on my own nerves, I also totally get my humor...) But it's more than that. If that was all it was, it would be way. too. easy. He would have







<------------these eyes














and smell like this ---------->

Cool Water is also known as: Liquid Yes and Kryptonite. I had another name for it which has now escaped me... Oh shut it, Christi and Katie... I know you two remember. My devil would be funny like Brian Regan and charming like Adam Sandler (Yes, I believe Mr. Sandler is charming....this is my devil, not yours) and always have these babies on hand...
He would be delicious and delightful and a good listener... and most likely play the cello. I know this is pretty specific, but what can I say? I have a type. And frankly, that's the way the devil rolls. Really the only thing I can't pin down is his voice... his singing voice, that is. His speaking voice would probably have an accent of some kind, but just a hint...not like Cockney Rhyming Slang from Yorkshire...but honestly if he had all of this other stuff, I don't think he'd need to talk at all... I'd be hand in hand with him (chocolate covered strawberry in the other) skipping down the road (and not the one less traveled). His singing voice would be either that guy from Nickleback (his voice makes clothes turn to liquid before he even gets to the chorus). I'm just sayin'. Either that guy or possibly the guy from 3 Doors Down... I dunno. I do know he wouldn't sound like John Mayer or Josh Groban...too dreamy or something.....and not like Prince. Definitely not like Prince.

So this helped......thanks for listening. Reflecting on the devil somehow took my mind off of the anger. Who knew? But now it's back. I'm still really angry. Really angry. In fact, I can't even recall the last time I was this angry at a person. However, as I sit here reflecting on my devil, (who is not. too. shabby.) I'm also reflecting on my Instruction Manuel. And it says, "Be angry yet sin not, lest the sun go down on your wrath. It also says, "Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor and evil speaking be put away from you with all malice." (Eph 4:26&31) It's alright to be angry. I should have been angry about this long, long ago. And perhaps if I had let myself be angry earlier, (much earlier) I WOULD NOT have been this furious and WOULD HAVE already "put this away" from me. So, I'm going to be angry for awhile. Spitting mad. Pissed off. And then I'm going to get to puttin' this away.... for good. I'm going to put it away from me... and one day I'll forgive (not today, and tomorrow isn't looking likely either) like the One who came to give me life and that more abundantly has forgiven me. (John 10:10 & Matt 6:14)


So...what's your devil wearin'?

Fenced in...

So, it's been awhile. Sorry about that. I've been reflecting....a lot, in fact. All I can offer as an excuse is that I took two Tylenol PM after midnight several weeks ago and I'm only slightly exaggerating when I tell you that I woke up face down on the bathroom floor three days later wearing a clown nose with Veggietales blaring in the far reaches of my consciousness. And I just haven't been the same since.... kinda in a walking Dyphenhydramine daze....

Thursday night I got my haircut...a lot....and layered....and straightened. That's not the story here though. A tangent really... but, I'm gonna run with it for a sec... as David was covering his salon floor with wisps and chunks of my mane, he kept staring at my lips. And I mean staring...which of course was making me very self-conscious. Very. Self-conscious. Anyway, just as I was about to ask if I had broccoli hanging out, or maybe if it was time for an upper lip wax, he said (in a very even tone), "Sorry I've been staring at your lips...it's just that they are SO SPARKLY." Hmmm, sparkly anything is usually a compliment in my book, but in a quick flash I recalled M. asking if she could put lipgloss on me before I walked out of the house. So, I let her and of course she chose the most pink, the most sparkly, the most glossy Dora lip gloss in all the world... (can't say that I fault her for this). He bends down in front of me and says, "I'm pretty sure there is actual glitter in there." Yes, there was. And yes, as long as I have little girls to blame it on, I just may wear it again....

As much as I could go on about lipgloss, the real story here is what I came home to after the great hair massacre. I walked in the kitchen and there were two fish. In a bowl. Swimming around. Alive. And my palms started sweating. And my breath shallowed. And I felt a little woozy and nauseous... and for me, all of these familiar symptoms point to two words... commitment issues. (Well...and pregnancy...but for this reflection, they pointed to commitment issues...)

Apparently, Lily Pad and Isabelle (Yes, my girls had already given them names) had been given to us at some military family appreciation night... which is really great, but why does everything given by the military involve some kind of commitment....sheesh. You have access to my husband 24/7, 365, I've moved 9 times in the past 10 years and I've have to say good-bye to good friends every new PCS cycle. So really... something alive? That I am supposed to keep alive? Ay caramba. As you can imagine, this "situation" had little to do with these two fish and a lot to do with my commitment issues. So, after I took a little break from the fish and breathed into a paper bag for several minutes, I reflected. 'Cause that's what I do when I'm being neurotic.

Ok Tava... (I usually only call myself by my first name if I'm acting ridiculous... or if I get too sarcastic... or if I just really need to get my point across, but it is nice to know that we're on a first name basis...) What gives? You've been married 10 years, you have two kids, a dog, a house, two magazine subscriptions, you buy in bulk and you're freaking out about having to commit to two goldfish? This isn't normal. To which I responded, "I never claimed to be normal... and I think I've really come a long way from where I started...so just. back. off."

I quickly took a mental inventory of the things that once made me feel "fenced in." Alright let's see... relationships, memberships, journals, leases, watches and bracelets, sleeping on the same side of the bed every night, car payments, tattoos, checking out library books, RSVPs, address labels, the neckline on t-shirts, plans more than 3 days in advance, buying items in bulk, bumper stickers, seat belts, putting my name on a waiting list, potted plants, owning things that are alive, lay-a-way, enrolling in something, speed limits, watching a show on TV regularly, any type of subscription and the list just goes on and on from there.... Do these sound ridiculous to you? I can assure you that I have a valid reason for each and every one.... You see how bad my problem is?? I even feel fenced in by ending punctuation... which is evident by all of the ellipses that I use when I write... What the heck? I have managed to shave a few of them off of my list (mostly by convincing myself that they are really Jay's commitments).... but I'm a little embarrassed to admit that many still remain...

Well, as much as I'd love to introduce you to Lily Pad, I'm afraid after less than 24 hours in my care, Isabelle is the only one that hasn't been flushed... Sorry Lily P, rest in peace.... and Dear Air Force, how about some stickers and a little thing of bubbles for the kids next time...

So my Dears, please tell me... what makes you feel "fenced in"?