Bees in My Bonnet

  Though I am not in the professional realm of psychology, I am in the UNprofessional realm of it. And I'd like to propose a new diagnosis: Self-Curiosity Disorder.   There are those walking amongst us who seem like well-adjusted adults. Citizens held in high regard. Kind and loving and decent people. People you'd like to know better and some who you'd like to not know better. They walk amongst us, and often they are busy doing good things and serving in some capacity. Keeping busy helps with this kind of disorder. Now, a disorder is only labelled as such because it is disruptive to life. And some disorders lie beneath the surface - they are rather hidden, and only show up in intimate family relationships.  I'd say this new disorder could be co-morbid with clinical depression, anxiety disorders, and personality disorders (there's a whole cluster of those).  The main tenet of this disorder is a surprising lack of curiosity about onesself. And it is rampant most likel

  Click here for the Previous Post - Jenny story (7) Jenny Even though I am Sarah's friend, she often thinks she doesn't have friends. That's why Chica - her dog - and I are so close to her. Because she can tell us anything. She can cry and be upset. She can tell me who she's mad at. She can even throw me against a wall (I don't really mind; I just flop down and then she feels really bad). Sarah has red hair, like mine, and people say that comes with a hot temper. Sometimes people tell her that and tease her, and I don't know if it's true, but in her case, it seems to be. I think it's more that she just feels so different and maybe because she's the youngest in the family and in the grade she's in at school, people tend to not take her seriously. Not all  people, of course. There are wonderfully kind people who keep their eye out for her. Sometimes Sarah goes on outings without me. She tells me about them afterwards. She showed me this picture of

  I guess it all began when I was about 7 yrs old and my father left my mom with 3 girls to raise alone. No visits, no support. Just a dead beat dad. My mom did her best; she struggled with major depression, but she always provided.   I think I became very promiscuous in my teen years because of not having a dad. I was looking for male love any way I could get it. When I was 18, a senior in high school, I found myself pregnant. My first thought was that I would get married and have a baby. Even then, before knowing Christ, I knew I was growing a life in me. The boyfriend and I even went to K-Mart and bought rings.  I don’t remember how it happened but we ended up going to meet with a Lutheran Pastor from the church my family attended. He talked to us and gave us our options, one of them being abortion. Yes from a man of God, I think, we were given the option of abortion.  This was, of course, back in 1972; Roe v Wade had just been passed. We decided that this was the option we were tak

Click here for the previous post (Jenny story 6) Jenny I wonder what it was like before I arrived. Sarah filled me in on her first few years. It seems I have joined a sweet little family. Sarah's Mommy and Daddy have told her all about how much they wanted to have children. And how hard it was to wait and pray and pray and wait and still, no baby came. They were both school teachers and figured they would make great parents since they knew how to run a classroom! I felt bad for them that they couldn't have children for so long. But then I think they might not have gotten Cathy if babies came easily for them. And where would we be without her?!  I can tell by the way Sarah plays with me that she really likes to have things her own way. She lines me up with all the other toys and stuffed animals and arranges us just so. And she spends hours re-arranging us so that we are all placed together as a great menagerie of imaginary beings. She has named us all and has her favourites. App

  I'd like to think I've repented many times in my life.  In a theological sense, we do repent when we come to Christ - and this does bring us to a place of having a relationship with the Living God. But it seems many think of this as the end-point of repentance. That, having considered ourselves sinners, and in need of the mercy of God, we say, 'God, I agree I'm a sinner, please forgive me and save me.' And it ends there. It seems it is easier to think of ourselves in that big general sense of  'SINNER' than to actually take a look inward (and perhaps outward, depending) and see the actual sins that make us feel icky and low and dejected inside. At least, on some occasions we feel that. On others we may feel like, 'Hey, I recognize these things are wrong, but I don't feel very icky about it, though I think I probably should.' Even that sentiment has a hint of repentance, as we observe ourselves and see the incongruity between what we claim to be

  click here for previous Post: Jenny story (5) Jenny One of the first nights I slept with Sarah, as I was getting used to her snuggling deep under the covers and smooshing me down in the crook of her elbow, she kept tossing and turning. I wondered what was wrong with her. She whispered to me, "I'm scared, Jenny."  Of course I whispered back, "What are you scared of?" "The dark. I'm scared to be here in the dark, and I'm thirsty and want to get water from the kitchen, but then I have to go downstairs, and it's dark there too!" Sarah replied. "What's scary downstairs...besides the dark?" I asked, curiously. "There are cockroaches and they scuttle and if I flip the light on you can see these dark bugs scrambling for the corners. It's so gross!! Sometimes they fly and then I panic! Once there was a snake that got in and I'm terrified of snakes! Sometimes there are bad guys who break in! I don't ever want to be do

  Click here for the previous post: Jenny Story (4) Jenny Sarah thinks I'm 'kind of' real. I'll take it - I feel real enough. I know she needs a friend. She goes to school each day and then comes home and plays - but there aren't really kids to play with. She's tried the kid in our village a few houses down, but she is constantly doing homework. There was no way they could play together. She rides her bike up and down the driveway and her hair whips her face. Sometimes she sings as loud as she can while she rides. Such a strange girl. I'm glad I have red hair like hers so she can feel less alone. Sarah says whatever she thinks sometimes. Others find this amusing - usually the adults. Thankfully, Cathy is usually around and is very protective of her little sister. Sometimes I think the Great Maker of All Things, made Cathy just for Sarah, because she needed a big sister. Sarah As a young child I had learned how babies normally enter the world – or at least w

Click here for previous post: Jenny Story (3)   Sarah I came into the world lacking the sense that is known as ‘common’.  In its place I suppose I was endowed with an un-common kind of sense.  As with all personal narratives, we must take what we are told to some degree.  So, much of the telling of my life overflows with insights – true or false – passed down to me by my superiors.  I was told that the reason I came into the world the un-natural way (via c-section) was because I didn’t want to come out.  My desires were assigned to me and decided for me, without my input, before I even emerged from the womb.  I don’t know if I wanted to emerge or not – does an infant want anything other than comfort?  But if this is what a child is told, she will believe it, because the adults always know , or that is what I thought.  Perhaps this was the first marker in my journey towards self-definition.  It took decades for me to understand I could think or feel or define my own internal experience

Click here for previous post: Jenny Doll story (2)   Jenny I liked my new friend. She hugged me a LOT - sometimes so tightly I had to hold my non-existent breath! Sarah was my soul-mate. She would tuck me in bed right next to her at night and whisper all her secrets to me. We imagined the best lives for ourselves - having a big house with every stray dog we could handle! Sarah dreamed of writing books and having a houseful of puppies. I always hoped Sarah could follow her dreams with me by her side - as her silent companion, always still, always smiling. She and I had an understanding, you see. She once told me, "I know you're only a doll, Jenny. I know you're not a REAL person. But I can pretend you are, and certainly that counts for something!!" She seemed to know it DID count for something - that when she spoke to me and acknowledged that I was only fabric and stuffing, a slight ache formed in my lifeless chest, and in some sense, I was more real than she knew. Cli

(See:  The Stories Jenny Held (1)  for the first post) Sarah I don't remember meeting Jenny for the first time - or who it was that gave her to me. It seems, as long as I can remember, that she was always there. And Ming Ming was always at my sister, Cathy's side. We were quite a foursome - me with my matching Jenny Doll, and Cathy with her Ming Ming. I had been jealous because Cathy had a special doll   named Amanda. Amanda was tattered and didn't smell or look good at all. But she was Cathy's favourite, so I didn't say anything. Still, I wished I could have a doll to hug and hold and comfort me when I needed a friend. I could get very lonely and sad. Sometimes our dog, Chica, would sit with me while I told her everything. She (Chica, that is) also had rust-red hair, so I was sure we were truly related somehow. All the people in Hong Kong had black hair. I never saw another kid with red hair until I went to school, and even then, we were a rare breed.  I guess I wa

 (This is me trying to tell my story through new eyes...) Jenny I was made long ago in a far-away place by a loving, elderly woman. She stitched me and stuffed me and carefully embroidered my bright blue eyes and wove together my rust-red yarn hair, into two neat little braids that hung thickly and tightly just over my shoulders. I have a plain blue dress and a sweet half-smile - permanently fixed on my white fabric face. Somehow, I was delivered to my playmate and best friend.  It was a journey of many miles, stuffed in a suitcase, carried and delivered by a stranger who was going to visit my new family. I could hardly wait to meet my new friend. Of course I didn't travel alone! My Maker also made my sister - Ming Ming. She had black hair and black almond-shaped eyes, to match her new friend, just like I matched mine. I loved having Ming Ming by my side and hoped we would continue to see much of each other in our new situation. I hoped my new friends would be gentle with me and no

Caleb shared with me his first assignment at college and I liked it so much I asked him if I could publish it on my blog. He so kindly agreed.  What I love about this is how transparent he is with his journey to discern how and where he might spend the next few years of his life. I appreciated his sensitivity to listen to others and give himself to prayer in the decision.  I think many will be blessed by getting an inside peek into his thought process. Thank you for letting me share this, Caleb!! Caleb Logan Prof. Davis August 18, 2021 COR 100 Why Covenant? Many things led to my decision to choose Covenant College. Beginning with the decision to take a gap year. My gap year program took place at a camp in Wisconsin. The  camp, called Expeditions Unlimited, was an adventure camp. The year began with a three-week canoe trip in The Boundary Waters, where I gained a deep appreciation for nature and solitude. Later in the year, we were given a book to read, titled Finding God’s Will for my

 Exploring the Story of my life...through different eyes I started writing this blog so that I would have some written record of how God brought Sam and I together. When I began to write it, the words just flowed, without much forethought or organization (and I'm sure that's obvious :D). Because it is October 1, I am again reminded of that fateful day 22 years ago, when it was a normal day, things went as they were supposed to be and yet I was a day away from my life being forever changed, forever altered, forever...different. I began to write the story of 'How I met Sam' just over 10 years ago. Back then I didn't really know or understand the word 'trauma' other than that was a centre at the Prince of Wales hospital near our house in Hong Kong. I didn't know about trauma as a reality within my own mind. I didn't know it was a *thing* - you know, something that shapes and changes and settles in the soul like an unwelcome guest. I wonder how the telli