The Komboskini and Me

A couple of years ago while vacationing in Treasure Island, Florida we took a day-trip.  My daughter loved princesses and nearby Weeki Wachee springs had a show of The Little Mermaid featuring live mermaids.  Okay, so they aren't born as mermaids, but they are women wearing elaborate mermaid tails swimming in a crystal clear natural spring.  Even to me it was amazing, and I was already in my late-20s.  Since Weeki Wachee is close to Tarpon Springs, a place full of childhood vacation memories, we decided to stop by and eat authentic Greek food (Mykonos).  Of course you can't go to Tarpon Springs without at least walking through some of the shops - sponges, handmade soaps, clothes, and trinkets abound.  The last shop we went in before the thunderstorm hit was Greek Town Imports.  At the checkout counter was a display of bracelets, which appeared to be intricately woven.  The graphic on the sign proclaimed they were prayer bracelets handmade by monks in Greece.  I nearly bought one, but since I'm a fairly crafty person I also suspected I could make my own, save $10, and learn something new in the process.  I was wrong...

I researched Orthodox prayer bracelets, found a tutorial, assembled my materials, and proceeded to tie knots...just not the kind I was attempting.  I tied and untied, untangled, and retied the same two strings many times before giving up.  I gave up on the bracelet, but I couldn't get it out of my head.  I revisited the instructional website many times, but I never made any more sense out of it or tried to tie another knot.

Flash forward to July 21, 2015

My brother, sister-in-law, husband, mom, and kids had planned to canoe the Weeki Wachee River with Paddling Adventures (located in the parking lot of the park) and then eat at Tarpon Springs.  When we called the day before to make our reservations, we were told that their canoes and kayaks were booked for the entire week.  In fact they informed us that in order to guarantee a spot you need to reserve 3-5 weeks in advance of when you want to paddle...or bring your own watercraft!  I suggested that we (all 10 of us who were vacationing) go ahead and drive the hour-and-a-half from Treasure Island to Weeki Wachee and at least ride the riverboat, see a mermaid show, and maybe also watch an animal show.  All of that is included in the price of admission.  Unfortunately there was an equipment malfunction in the mermaid diving area, so the only thing we were able to do was ride the riverboat.  However, the park was generous enough to refund the money of all guests (who requested it) who had arrived prior to the first mermaid show and were leaving because the shows were cancelled.  We had arrived less than 30 minutes before the first show, so this applied to us.

Refund in hand we drove back to Tarpon Springs.  If you've never been to Tarpon Springs, I highly recommend that you get there early in the day, find a place to park ($3/day), and very slowly take it all in.  This is a small waterfront town, crowded with people, shops, and boats.  If you have time ride the sponge-diving boat and watch them harvest sponges.  At the very least sit by the water and watch the boats for a while.  We chose to eat at Dimitri's on the Water, and it was A-mazing!  The staff was friendly, we were seated promptly, the service was wonderful, the food was generously piled on plates, and we were able to eat on the covered patio by the water...and watch the boats.  After eating there were a few shops we wanted to check out.  My mamaw and mom went in search of dried sponges, the rest of us headed toward Taste of Greece for dessert.  I love dessert, but I was so stuffed after eating part of a Roasted Lamb Wrap and Spread Sampler at Dimitri's that I couldn't even look at the cases of delectable desserts.  Instead my foursome started walking back toward the entrance to Dodecanese Boulevard in search of the little yellow shop where I saw the bracelet.

We found the little yellow shop, but it had a sign in the window saying it had moved to the corner by Antonia's.  We found Antonia's but it was the corner shop...so we walked around the corner.  There were doors for the shop, but they said to use the other door...and there was no other door.  We went inside Antonia's to ask how to get to the other shop and saw that the shops were adjoining.  After walking to the back, instructing my kids to keep their hands off all the breakable pretties, we found the little yellow shop - Greek Town Imports.  I asked if they were open, because the shelves weren't stocked, and boxes were piled everywhere.  Handymen were still hanging fixtures, and several employees were unpacking boxes.  The elderly gentleman said they were open and then, "I told you we were moving."  I said, "It wasn't me, I haven't been here in about two or three years."  He replied, "Yeah, that's when I start telling people we're moving, three years ago."  A younger man asked how he could help me, so I told him - the last time I was in your store you had prayer bracelets, do you still have them?

The man took me to the back and started showing me the different bracelets - thick ones in red and black, or thin ones in black with plastic crosses or blue beads.  I chose a thin black one with blue beads, which he said was the traditional style.  The cord is waxed and lasts longer, so that was also a selling point.  The only problem was that the bracelet was so tiny that I was positive it wouldn't even fit my 4 year-old's wrist.  I asked, "How do you adjust it?"  There was no clasp, or knot and loop, no way to open the bracelet to put it on.  He said, "Basically you point your fingers like this and roll it on.  It will get bigger.  I've had mine on for four years now."  The woman behind him said, "I've had mine on for nine years!  If it gets too big, when you're in the shower, just pinch the knots together like this to tighten it back up."  I thanked them, still skeptical that the bracelet would ever fit me even though I have thin wrists.  I paid, and the woman who rang me up said, "Oh!  You're Greek!?"  I explained about seeing the bracelets before, and trying to learn to make the knot.  She said, "I'm Greek, and I don't know how to make the knot.  These are made by the monks in the Athos region of northern Greece."

Again I thanked them, and we were on our way.  I made my fingers and hand look like the man had shown me, and I started trying to roll the bracelet across my knuckles and onto my wrist.  I tried my right hand...uh uh, not going to work.  I tried my left hand...oops, not going to fit there either.  I contemplated putting it on my key-ring or giving it to one of my kids, but I bought it for a purpose and wanted to wear it.  I kept trying to make my hand smaller and smaller, rolling the bracelet, getting it across two knuckles just to have it roll back up toward my fingertips.  It was frustrating...and painful if I'm being perfectly honest.  Finally!  I managed to get it on my left wrist, which works better for me since I'm right-handed.

The komboskini is used by Orthodox Christians to guide prayer and prostrations.  There are different lengths of prayer rope - short ones with 33 knots to symbolize the years of Christ's life, or longer ones with 50, 100, 300, even 500 knots!  Some use the spaces between knots, larger knots, or beads to guide prostrations.  According to the research I've done, there is one prayer that is said with each knot - Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.  As the monks tie each knot into the rope, they pray.  So not only is the prayer rope used to guide prayer and meditation, it is created while in prayer.  Each knot, called The Angelic Knot, is actually 7 interlocking crosses.  The legend passed down states that a monk wanting to make a prayer rope kept having his knots untied by a demon until an angel of God appeared and taught the monk to tie the special 7 cross knot which was so difficult and full of crosses that the demon could no longer untie the rope.

I am not Greek Orthodox.  I am Baptist.  I do not pray short, repetitive prayers.  I do not bow or make prostrations after each prayer.  That just isn't how I was taught.  So why did I buy this prayer bracelet that is used by a different denomination of Christianity to guide prayers that are vastly different than mine?  To remind me...that I should pray without ceasing, that God is always with me encircling me with His love, that I need to focus my mind when I pray, and that as children of God we are all interconnected.

If you would like to learn more and possibly learn to make the prayer knot, click HERE.

There are numerous YouTube video tutorials as well.

Finding Rainbows in the Rain

I feel like I need to write a disclaimer for this post before I begin.  I typically do not share personal information.  I do not like to open up and bare my soul, especially when there is the risk for criticism or judgment.  I am not sharing this to gain sympathy.  I am sharing in the hopes that someone going through this will have peace that they are not alone.

Have you ever had a day where it seems like it rains nonstop?  You look outside and the sun is shining, your kids are playing happily, nothing specific has gone wrong, but inside you feel like it's raining.  That's the kind of day I was having...actually that's the week I was having.  Small things seemed insurmountable, everything my kids were doing made me feel hot and itchy and irritable, my stomach felt like snakes writhing inside, I was struggling to keep my emotions capped.

It started Sunday at church, sitting behind my mamaw...she just seemed so small and frail, she reminded me of her older sister who passed away last year, and it broke my heart.  When she stepped up to the pulpit to sing - Lord it's just another hill that I'm climbing, Lord it's just another tear to wipe away.  If I can just hold on a little longer, I'll be rejoicing in Heaven someday - I could barely contain my tears.  She sang the first few bars alone, and then the pianist, pastor, and two guitarists joined her.  I have listened to my mamaw sing since I was born, but it just tugged my heart strings that day.  That song in particular gets to me anyway, and when I'm having a rough time I ask her to sing it.  I didn't ask this time, but I needed it.  Sunday was Father's Day, and I was already feeling broken-hearted.  The day just picked the scab trying to cover the small/huge hole in my heart left by someone I love who I never had the chance to meet.  To say it was a rough start to the day would be a slight understatement.

This week has been stressful, rewarding, full of blessings, but stressFULL.  We are wrapping up Vacation Bible School, and this was the first time I have ever been asked to plan and execute the week.  When I was asked I thought about declining.  In fact I never formally accepted the request!  I asked for time to pray about it and talk to my husband, but as soon as I sent that email an idea popped into my head and it snowballed from there into this amazing week.  I felt like God was leading me to what He wanted me to do, gently nudging me by giving me a lightbulb moment that made it impossible to say no.  Amazing as this week may be, and as easy as the week was to plan, it has still been stressful.  I tend to be a perfectionist, feel like I have to be in control of every single thing, and overthink and analyze every little detail until I make myself sick.  

We began VBS on Tuesday.  I managed to have everything organized and a lot of things completed before Monday.  Still there are certain things you can't do ahead.  Each night I have tried to prepare the next day's crafts for four age groups - I had them planned from the beginning, but I wanted an example to show for each individual craft, and I wanted only to take the supplies for that particular night's crafts so I didn't get confused about who was supposed to be doing what.  

On Tuesday my husband's Fatherversary gift arrived - our 10th anniversary was earlier this month - and the box was perfect for the kids to make the rocket they wanted to give to Daddy.  While he fitted the new roll pan on his work truck and drilled holes outside, I helped the kids remake the box into a really nice rocket inside as a surprise for him.  They decorated it with stickers and marker drawings while I made VBS signs and got craft supplies organized and ready to walk out the door.

Apparently the hundreds of stickers the kids used on Tuesday weren't enough.  Wednesday while I was trying to get sample crafts made and supplies together in the dining room, the children decided to decorate the rocket some more.  They were being well-behaved, having fun, using every sticker we have...and we have a lot of stickers.  Earlier in the day we had been in the pool with my mom and our cousin, and the conversation had turned to my upcoming gallbladder surgery.  That put me on edge, because I am terrified of surgery.  Until that point I had been able to distract myself for a couple of weeks - the pain had subsided right after I made my appointment for surgery, I had been able to eat normally for the first time since Easter, I was no longer having the referred pain in my ribs, and I was crazy busy with summer activities and VBS prep.  Talking about the surgery brought it all back.  

After I got Wednesday's sample craft ready, I looked at my pre-admittance testing and surgical orders to see if there was anything special I needed to do based on the information my cousin gave about her surgery.  On the list of things to bring to the PAT appointment was a letter of clearance from your cardiologist.  I started getting the ants-in-my-pants feeling.  No one said anything about clearance!  I have a cardiologist, and what if I was supposed to call him and get an appointment so he could check me out and be sure I'm healthy enough to undergo surgery!?  They're doing an EKG and blood work at my PAT appointment, isn't that enough?  I haven't seen my cardio in a couple of years because after my initial need to see him was explored I was released as an as-needed-basis patient.  What if they won't let me have the surgery because I don't have the paper saying I'm ok, or what if I'm not ok and my heart stops while I'm under anesthesia and I die and my husband has to try to raise our kids without me.  Would they still remember me when they're adults if I die now - they're still so young.  Will they remember how much I love them...  Oh, I tell you, if I was still in pain 24/7 it would be so much easier NOT to have this train of thought.  With the absence of pain driving me toward the surgery comes the influx of depressive anxiety-filled thought processes, which makes me feel like a weenie because it's such a simple procedure that I feel like I shouldn't have any qualms at all.  Back to finding rainbows...

I looked up from my papers when my daughter walked by to get yet another sheet of stickers from the drawer.  I looked into the living room where she was taking the stickers, and I see empty sticker sheets lying on the floor and hardly a bare spot of cardboard remaining on the rocket.  I lost it.  I didn't yell, but I sternly instructed them to stop using so many stickers because they were going to use them all and I wasn't going to buy them anymore because that's not what they are meant for and what are they going to do when all their stickers are gone and they don't have any for the other projects they wanted them for and the stickers are all going to fall off anyway when we put the rocket in the attic because that's where it's going and it's hot up there and the sticky won't last in the heat and don't put another sticker on pick up your mess and put the stickers up.  Even as the words were coming out of my mouth I realized how ridiculous I sounded, how unreasonable I was being, but by that point I was like a runaway train that can't be stopped.  I reached for a bite-size Snicker's (which didn't make me feel like myself, by the way), and the second it was in my mouth I started to hyperventilate.  My nose is highly unreliable right now due to allergies, and the bite-size Snicker's took up all the room in my mouth...I couldn't get it chewed up and swallowed fast enough, and the lump in my throat was growing by the second.  I felt like I was choking.  I walked to the back of the house, and tried to calm down, but it suddenly started raining.

Hot, salty rain poured down my face.  I walked back to the dining room, squatted beside my chair, and tried to get a grip.  By then the kids had done what I asked - picked up the empty sheets, put away some of the stickers, and taken off the excess stickers that were already falling off - and then they came to check on me.  I couldn't squat any longer, because my energy was gone, so I sat in the floor and it continued to rain.  I held my kids close and it rained on their heads.  I lost count of how many times I told them I love them.  Then my son went and got every stuffed animal from his bed and brought them to me to hold in my lap.  When he decided that wasn't good enough, he traded the bears for his Spider Man blanket.  My daughter tried to cheer me up by eating gummy worms, because my kids eating candy always cheers me up (?), and they kept telling me it was ok while they patted me.  When I could finally open my eyes, I was a bit stunned by what I saw.  Our solar-powered rainbow make was throwing the most vibrant and stunning rainbows all around the kitchen.  They were racing across the floor at my feet, soaring across the ceiling, running up the walls.  Rainbows were everywhere.  It has been so overcast, and we've been so busy for the last month or more that I've missed the rainbows, I'd forgotten that little spinning prism in my window, I'd forgotten how beautiful it could be.  *These images are from April*

Eventually my daughter disappeared into her room, where she made me a necklace.  My son covered me head-to-toe in his blanket and got under it with me, where he kept saying, "It's Mommy and brother time, isn't Mommy.  No one else is allowed because it's just Mommy and brother time."  I tell you, that four year old kid is wise.  Being in the dark, under a hot fleece blanket, helped.  I laid back on the floor, and I didn't have the strength to raise my head off the floor.  As I lay there, getting my breathing under control, two things occurred to me:  1) rainbows are God's promise that the storm is over and it will get better, 2) you can't have rainbows without rain.

I've dealt with depression and anxiety since I was 7, and being in stressful situations tends to bring it out - the upcoming surgery combined with trying to make sure everything was perfect for VBS built up the perfect storm for an anxiety attack.  Just remember, even in your darkest storm, when the rain won't let up and the clouds make it hard to see, the Son is out there, and a rainbow is coming.  Don't stop looking for the rainbows in the rain.

"Behind the Clouds"

- Brad Paisley -

When you're feeling lonely, lost and let down
Seems like those dark skies are following you around
And life's just one big shade of gray
You wonder if you'll see the light of day

Behind the clouds, the sun is shining
Believe me even though you can't quite make it out
You may not see the silver lining
But there's a big blue sky waiting right behind the clouds

I've heard it said that this too shall pass
Good times or bad times, neither one lasts
But thinking that your luck won't ever change
Is like thinking it won't ever stop once it starts to rain

Behind the clouds, the sun is shining
Believe me even though you can't quite make it out
You may not see the silver lining
But there's a big blue sky waiting right behind the clouds
Yeah, there's a big blue sky waiting right behind the clouds

Who's Responsible for This Mess?

Over the last several years the stuff in my house has grown to epic proportions.  Things get bought, brought, borrowed, gifted... but nothing ever leaves.  My mom will tell you that this is how it was in my childhood as well.  At least in my room.  It was bad enough then that I remember coming home from school to 33 gallon trash bags full of my stuff sitting outside the bedroom.  I wasn't allowed to go through it or beg for its salvation.  If I wasn't responsible enough to clean it all up, I wasn't allowed to plead the case for keeping any of it.

When I got married almost 10 years ago, my parents finally got tired of babysitting my stuff and boxed up the contents of my room and said it had to move with me.  Sadly, most of those things are still in the boxes in which they arrived at my new/old house.  It isn't that I don't know how to sort things, throw things away, say goodbye to things.  I know how to do all that.  Decluttering is overwhelming, and my problem always lies in where to begin.  So I'm beginning here...

My name is Amanda, and I am a horrible housekeeper.  

I am not hanging my head in shame.  I am holding my head high, because I know that I can do better.  I'm not admitting defeat, no thing, no stuff, nothing is going to get me down.  I refuse to live another able-bodied day without getting my house straightened out.

I have blustered about the mess for too long without doing anything constructive about it.  
February, being the shortest (and often most hated) month of the year, is a good month to begin a new project.  You're still early in the year, but by February it doesn't quite feel so much like a resolution.  Let's be clear about something:  I have made that resolution many times, and it never stuck.  My house still looks like a wreck.  All.  The.  Time.  There, I said it.  I own it.  When my cousin asked for people to join a February clean-up challenge, I hesitated.  Granted it was only 28 days, but there is so much stuff in my house!  The paper alone might take me a full year to sort through.  In the end I joined, and I felt accomplished for the first time in a long time.  I felt happy about cleaning.  My kitchen looked amazing...until I started cleaning the rest of the house.  My cabinets and pantry are still fantastic, but the floor is a bit crowded.  (Now that I've seen I can manage with stuff in the center of the floor, maybe it's time to petition the hubs for a center island.)  I even started sorting through clothes, which for whatever reason I have a weird emotional attachment to.  I have two tall kitchen trash bags full of clothes I need to donate.  I started going through paper, and just the old bills, receipts, and medical statements took me an entire afternoon to shred and filled a 33 gallon trash bag.  It's sad, really.  Sad that I have let my house get into such a state of junkedupedness.  But after the first week and a half, I slacked off.  Things got busy, hectic, complicated, and I quit unstuffing my house.  And now it's a full month later, and I'm no better off.

I have blamed the husband for the state of our house - after all he hasn't volunteered to clean it up, and when he helps me he asks me what to do with every single thing he finds.  I know he doesn't do it to be difficult, instead he does it because he doesn't want to put anything where I don't want it or to throw away something I might need.  

I have blamed the kids - I mean, really, where does all the stuff come from when you have a kid?  You come home from the hospital with a carseat and a kid and suddenly your home is overrun with stuffed animals, blankets, toys, books, drawings, and life.  And I love every minute of it!  Unless of course I step on a Hotwheels car and bend the axle that my 4 year old will then ask me to repair, and when I repair it the wheel is inevitably going to come off and he will ask me to glue it back on.  No glue on this planet will hold a plastic tire on a metal axle, sorry kiddo.

That brings me to my current question:  who's responsible for this mess?

The short answer is, ME.  I have always blamed everyone but the person responsible.  

Who chooses to read a book (or write this post) instead of sweep the floor?  Who chooses to let the laundry go for one more day?  Who decides that a few dirty dishes don't justify filling a sink and wasting water?  Who can't seem to get a handle on all the stuff?  That would all be ME.  I keep waiting for my small world to change and one day to wake up to a spotless home that isn't piled up, or at the very least for my hard work to actually pay off with a house that remains clean after I've worked diligently for a week to get it in top shape again.  The fact is that unless I change my world, unless I stop being my own worst enemy, unless I care an awful lot about my house being an enjoyable, less stressful environment, nothing is going to change...it's not.  I will be the one who has to concede the victory and let my stuff rule my life.

Last night I had taken all I could.  I simply could NOT look at this mess any longer.  I cleaned on my dining room for four hours, stopping at 1:45am only because I was hungry and my knee was aching.  I found enough pencils to last until my kids graduate college.  I threw things away.  I jammed out to my favorite music...quietly of course, since I was the only one awake.  I felt good about my progress for once, and it was a noticeable difference.  Tonight I am trying to catch up on laundry and dishes that have both been untended for several weeks due to some county-wide water issues.  

My daughter said something earlier that most 6 year olds wouldn't think about - I'm so excited, because tomorrow is a new day!  When did she get so wise!?  Tomorrow is a new day, and I'm so excited because I can decide to change.