Diet Coke is addictive. Also, apparently, it punctures little holes in your brain. And my dad is pretty adamant that aspartame will make you stupid and blind. Confession time? I’ve been drinking it by the gallon for years.

And that’s not the worst of it: I’m a dirty rotten smoker as well.

So I was talking to Trasy at work today while she was exposing the evils of diet soda, the medical model, and the flesh tearing consumption of meat and I decided . . . At least I’m almost certain I have? Yes, I’ve decided to take it to heart.

But I brought six cans with me to work to refresh myself throughout the day so I said I would give it up tomorrow when all this delicious fizzy wonderment had met it’s digestive fate.  I mentioned this to Trasy, yet she remained unmoved. And the question came up, Why would you want to continue doing something that you know is bad for you? Even for a little while?

This has a much broader scope, probably. And it seems all the more pertinent that this conversation took place at the DV shelter. These women here could recite pages of well founded accusations against they’re abusers by the time they arrive. They know what’s wrong; That’s why they come here. And yet, two months later, the guy wasn’t really so bad, or he’s sorry, or there’s a new someone who seems too good to be true and probably is who just wants to take care of them by treating them like his own personal property or punching bag.  Why do people  keep doing what they know is bad for them? Even for a little while?

It’s like that long term crazy spell I went through with Mark. It was obvious to everyone-it was obvious to me!-and yet I bent to his apologies, I made him up in my mind to be much more that he was, and I decided to believe that he was what he said and not what he did. Did I think it wouldn’t catch up to me? Did I think if I designed a pretty picture behind my squeezed eyelids, that it would remain when they opened?

Maybe so. Or maybe it’s just easier to go along, even if you don’t like what you get.

I want to make the brave choice, not the easy one. I want to make the brave choice, not the flashy one. I want to make the brave choice in all things, and maybe these are all pieces of the same puzzle of dissatisfaction.

I think of Erik, who is so disciplined, who stretches to exceed expectations all day after getting barely any sleep. Who works hard and gives of himself in such kind and generous ways, without exception. Who is made up entirely of lean muscle and sleeps easily and is selfless with his time and energy. And I think, That’s beautiful. I think, There but by the disappointment of God go I.

So I need to suck it up.

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UPDATE:  Upon further reflection, I realized it was pretty lousy trick to try and get away with letting a Voki stand in my stead in bringing birthday salutations. So I’ll try this again. And this time, I’ll tell you how great Ron is!

Ron is a most delightful fake brother, and one who practically saved my life last year and at the very least my sanity. I treasure to the depth of my soul those walks we took downtown and doing the homeless ministry with him last summer.  He spent hours with me, night after night after Natalie was gone,  just listening and listening and listening to me trying to get myself straight with all the thoughts in my head. He witnessed my apologies, soothed my wounds, and gave me great godly counsel. I love that he’s allowed himself to be grafted into my family and consider it one of the best decisions I’ve ever made for him. I couldn’t ask for a better brother in Christ.  SO . . . Happy freaking Birthday! :)

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Happy Birthday, Pookie!

Love,

Marianne

UPDATE: I realized that this VOKI could never actually express what a wonderful gift my fabulous sister is to me. Mostly because it’s got a character limit, I’ll admit, but also partly because it doesn’t emote well. So I guess I will just have to roll up my arm fat (I’m not wearing sleeves-what else can I roll up?!) and do it myself.

Real story? Stephanie is a beautiful, capable, fascinating young woman and one that I’m proud to be related to (you should see the rest of my family-har har). She’s tough as nails when it comes to Truth and is bright as all the stars in the heavens put together. She gets me. And that sort of getting seems so comforting, deep, and intrinsic that sometimes I think other people are being deliberately obtuse when I describe something in two words and they have no idea what I’m talking about-I think, Stephanie would get it. She’s so many things that are so great and encouraging and uplifting, especially in the Faith. Silly, funny, wise, well read, pretty, edgy, intense, deep, and raw. Happy birthday, Steppie. I love you!

So I spent some time today looking up some other blogs and came across a goldmine of those of Christian women. Eureka! Most of the writers are wives and/or mothers who seem to take the task very seriously, blogging about the need for more patience with thier children or the way they’ve been treating thier husband, neither of which I have current personal experience with. I appreciate their consistent focus on trying to follow the model set out for them in the Bible, and I admit some self-disdain when I realize that I will probably never be like that. I think to myself, that’s probably the sort of woman Simon wants (which, yes, does beg the question of, Well then why did he ever date you?).

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So this is an entry of shameless other-promotion. Made because Kyle thinks he’s awesome, even though he hates Diet Coke and the word “plausible”, is a masculinist, and refuses to tell me his only secret. Can you believe this guy? You might as well.

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