Why I Like To Stay Home:

Warning: This is not my typical light-hearted funny blog. It is my attempt to make sense of somethings going on in my life. Some may say I am trying to sound like a victim. I am not a victim. I own what I am about to say and am not ashamed. Please do not read if you are looking for a laugh...it is not funny...but it is still true.

I am a home body. Anyone who knows me well knowsI love to be in my home. Sometimes I feel like I need a break, but my break doesn't necessarily mean I like to leave the safety and comfort of my own home. Safety. Comfort. Predictability. Stability. Familiarity. All words associated with my home. When I am home, my world is very comfortable. There are, of course, the continuous changes and surprises that come with having three girls under the age of 10 and a musician husband, but I can handle these occurrences within my home. I know my immediate family's opinion of me. When I make mistakes, my girls, and Steve are quick to forgive. They really don't have much of a choice, I realize, I'm all they've got. When I act unbecomingly, my husband is quick to call me on it so that I can fix it. When I hear my children mimicking the way I talk in a frustrated way, I know I need to fix the tone in my voice. If I can be so bold as to give myself a compliment, while I sometimes resent being told something about me is offensive, I am usually pretty willing to change.

Outside my home, I am reminded that it is not safe. There are freeway shootings, car accidents, and heartless crime. And while these are major problems outside the safety of my home, the lesser yet equally frightening problem outside of my home, is the unpredictability of those who you let your guard down with because they are your friend. There are people in this world who have a perspective on me that is not entirely true. However, this perspective has been fueled by years of hurt and resentment...most of which I have been totally clueless about...and there is no changing this perspective as far as these people are concerned. Being a recovering people pleaser, knowing that someone is disgusted with the person I am, is like carrying an overstuffed backpack that I can't put down, everywhere I go. I want to put it down, but it is so stuffed that the straps are too tight to budge. I can't reach the zipper to unload it so I just trudge around with this monstrosity on my back waiting for a solution to getting rid of it. I can say, "It doesn't matter what other people think." But those are just words. And it does matter, to me, what some people think... especially when the view is dead wrong. Yes, I can even acknowledge that while some people may have known me for a long time, their conclusions about me are not even close to being right. I am learning that I can't change what someone thinks about me, but it doesn't mean I don't lose sleep trying to figure out how I can.

The funny thing is this. I have a good life, with many good friends and a good family. For the most part my family and friends take me as I am, call me on the stuff that needs to grow up, and we keep going down our merry way growing together. But in one small conversation, my world is turned upside down and I start to question, "How in the world does anyone stand being in the same room with me?" I'm almost 35 years old. I feel like I should be a lot further along in my journey than this.

Oh well. I am home now. My husband adores me. My kids want nothing but me. My friends, my true friends, are still calling. And in spite of all the flaws in my personality, I am reminded that Jesus thinks I'm pretty cool too. He made me the way I am and maybe , just maybe, I wasn't meant to gel with everyone I came in contact with. I guess I have to be OK with that.

Two Good Things That Have Happened:
1. I laughed my real laugh a lot with my mom and dad this past week.
2. My kids got to spend a week with their cousins and can't stop talking about how much fun they had and how much they miss them.