Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Apparently, I Have A Lot On My Mind

December 09, 2003 ... 9:39 p.m.

[discussing Grandpa�s favoritism of Cousin#5]

Eibisch: �How can I NOT be his favorite? How is that even possible?�
Mom: �Well, she was Aunt L�s baby.�
Eibisch: �But I�m the cutest!�
Mom: �Cousin#5 is not ugly.�
Eibisch: �But I�m the smartest!�
Mom: �I�ll give you that.�
Eibisch: �And I do all kinds of stuff for him!�
Mom: �I know--we all do.�
Eibisch: �And I listen to all of his war stories! All the time! Over and over!�
Mom: �The rest of us are thankful.�
Eibisch: �And I�m funny, too! I just don�t get it.�
Bootsie: �Perhaps it has something to do with a lack of modesty.�

I�m writing this as my beef & bean burritos cook. Hee! I love burritos. Actually, I love Mexican food in general. And corn dogs. That�s not really a relevant revelation. But it�s a fact. Use it as you wish.

I�m taking a risk with the burritos, though. My meds make me quite nauseous and acid reflux-y. I care not. The beefy, beany, yummy goodness is just to much temptation.

I�m really not as self-centered or egotistical as the above conversation may indicate. It was half joking. I say �half� because he does favor Cousin#5. He straight out told her. He didn�t know I was within earshot. Or maybe he didn�t care.

I love all my cousins. I don�t like her much, though. She�s flakier than a pie crust. She�s a missionary in Africa right now. She�s been engaged a bajillion times--once to her college soccer coach. She rarely even speaks to my grandparents unless she wants something.

When they moved into their condo, Mom and Bootsie basically moved everything. Even the big, heavy furniture. Just the two of them. Cousin#5 brought over a dozen or so clothing items on hangers. That�s it. And Grandpa gave her $40 for helping.

My sister took an entire china hutch from their old dining room, down five stairs, into her truck, drove it to their condo, took it out of the truck, brought it in the condo and set it up where he wanted it. By. Her. Self..

Know what she got? She didn�t get $40. That�s for damn sure. After all the work, all the packing and all the cleaning she did for them--this is what she got:

Accused of stealing �several hundred dollars� from him.

My sister DID NOT steal anything. Bootsie is so hurt by this. I�m pissed.

Bootsie actually found several hundred dollars stuffed in my grandma�s dresser that she had forgotten about. Bootsie could�ve pocketed the cashand nobody would�ve been the wiser. But she didn�t.

I think he should ask his little favorite. SHE has a history of stealing money. Mostly from me and my sister, but I guess that�s okay. Because it�s just us.

He probably spent it or put it elsewhere or gave it to Cousin#5. But he won�t let it die. He decided Bootsie stole it, so Bootsie stole it. And he will believe that until he dies.

And it�s not like this is the first time he�s accused us of stealing. Several years ago, they went on vacation. They gave me permission to come over and tape an Elvis special that was on cable. (We didn�t get cable until I was 21. IKNOW!) When I went over to do so, Cousin#4 was there. With her boyfriend.

I don�t tell anyone. I�m no snitch.

BUT. Right after my grandparents get home, I get a phone call asking if I know where some earrings are. Um, no I didn�t. Several accusatory calls ensue. Grandpa threatens to call the cops and arrest me and yadda yadda yadda..

I�m a little freaked, but I�m still not snitching.

A couple hours later, he calls to say they found the earrings somewhere my grandma had hidden them for safekeeping. He apologized. Kind of. He has a way of apologizing, but still blaming. Like he said he was sorry for the �miscommunication� but I WAS there.

My sister and I have been accused of stealing jewelry, watches, money, lottery tickets--even clothes. Think about that for a minute. Clothes. From my grandparents. The heck? All--ALL--ALL of these items are usually found shortly after. But we�re always accused. And we�ve never taken anything. Ever.

And we�re always the ones he calls when he needs something. He depends on us. But we�re lying thieves. Yeah.

And yesterday I almost gave him what-for. I should�ve, too. Bootsie loaded up and brought over some furniture (we moved, remember?) some of which was a dresser that she carted up from the basement. By. Her. Self. Grandpa called and I told him Mom was gonna kill her for doing that and he said--quote-- �I don�t believe that. She had help she isn�t telling you about.�

WHO�S GONNA HELP HER, OLD MAN? YOU?

Your son, who has a bad back? Our cousins who mostly avoid us like the plague? Her friends who all live 2+ hours away? Jens or Pinball? Did they hop a flight from Alaska to help with a dresser?

Use your damn head. You wanna labor under the delusion that Bootsie is a thief--even though she�d give you the shirt off her back if you only asked--fine. But how dare you question her or her motivation in helping this family?

Oh, friends, I have had it. HAD. IT. My sister wouldn�t say sh*t if she had a mouthful, especially to Grandpa.

Oh, but you better believe I will.

I am a generally easy going person and very, very slow to anger. But I am an INTENSELY loyal person--nobody, but nobody messes with my family or friends. And my little sister? TOPS on my loyalty list. Mom is a close second, but Bootsie reigns supreme at numero uno. And I refuse to sit idly by and let her be trashed for something she didn�t do.

And, even if she actually does something to you, you just better watch what you say around me.

That said, I�m changing my major back to History. I know, I know. But it�s just a more comfortable area for me. Plus, I might could work in a museum. A museum with dinosaurs.

And we all know how much I love museums. And dinosaurs. Jurassic Park? Cried. I cried when they saw the brachiosaurus. CRIED! I still get misty. Gah. I am such a flippin� dork.

Things are still not going well at das haus von Eibisch. Nothing is going right in any facet of our lives. It�s one thing after another. Ugh.

In a seeming non-sequiter, my favorite bible verse is Job 34:12.

Yea, surely God will not do wickedly, neither will the Almighty pervert judgment (KJV)

It fits so well and I will tell you how it came to mean so much to me.

I really believed good things were going to happen to us this year. But it has been just awful at nearly every turn. I believe--I KNOW--that these trials are part of a plan, but that really doesn�t make it easier. I pray a lot. Every night before I go to bed. Some time ago, I had been having a particularly bad week and all my emotions came rushing out in my evening prayers. I was hurt, angry and I felt betrayed. I am ashamed at how bitter my diatribe was. I was so hostile, I was hurting, I was crying. The dam just seemed to burst. I had had such high hopes for my brother, my family--the year in general. Everything was just crashing down on me. I don�t know where it came from, but I truly and deeply felt that something truly amazing and good was going to happen to me this year. I even wrote about it here way back in April.

And, hey, there�s still...what? 21, 22 days left to the year? Something amazing could still happen. This amazing something could even be in the works right now! It is, after all, the season for miracles!

Anyway ... bitter nastiness directed at God. I�m not even sure of what all I said. I just felt this terrible anger at what I felt was an immense injustice done to me and mine (that darn loyalty thing again). I remember the last few things I said to Him that night, though. I apologized if I had hurt Him with what I said. (I�m a dork.). I asked for a sign, a direction ... a something to show me the way. I told Him I would never stop believing, but that I honestly did not know if I could keep praying and trusting in someone who seemed to dislike us so much. Finally, I asked Him to tell me or show me what I did wrong. Why we were being punished, why He was being so unfair. In closing, I suggested (I�ve got a pair, huh?) He was just being cruel. And mistaken. And mean. And wrong. Then I went to sleep.

I had no dream that night. I always dream. Vivid, colorful dreams that I always remember. I love to dream. But I didn�t dream that night.

I didn�t dream the next night, either.

The third night after my little rant, I began to dream.

I was in a pitch black room. I knew my eyes were open, but all I saw was darkness. In this darkness a blank and yellowed piece of parchment appeared before me. I wasn�t holding it, I don�t think it was being held. It seemed to hover, the only thing to see in this room of black. As I looked at the paper a large, white, feather quill began to write on the parchment. I thought it should make those scratchy noises, but the room was silent. I knew I could hear ... if there had been anything to listen to. When the quill was done, the parchment hung there briefly. The quill had written �Job 34:12�.

It disappeared and I woke up. As I looked for my bible, I began to think �Job? Job is a parable, not a book.� I think I was confusing Lot and Job, but my confusion serves to illustrate the fact that this verse, this book, was not something I was remotely familiar with.

I kept questioning whether I had remember the verse correctly. I decided that I hadn�t and that I simply had the name wrong. Instead of �Job� (whose book I thought didn�t exist), it must be �John�.

Yes. John 34:12. Problem. �John� only has 21 chapters.

Hmm. 1 John? 2 John? 3 John? Nope. Grand total of 7 chapters.

J-O ... J-O ... Joshua? 24 chapters.

J-O ... J-O ... Jonah? 4 chapters.

J-O ... J-O ... Joel? 3 chapters.

I decided to make absolutely sure whether there was a book of Job.

Bingo. 42 chapters.

Eep. I flipped to chapter 34. I followed the page down with my finger to verse 12.

I read it and I thought I might faint.

The last thing I had said to God was that I thought he was wrong.

I read, in my NIV bible, what I believe was His direct response to my pain and lashing out ...

It is unthinkable that God would do wrong, that the Almighty would pervert justice.

I really don�t think the message could�ve been any more clear. Oh, I suppose He could have called me up on the phone and said �Eibisch? It�s God. Look, quit your bitching, I�ve got it all worked out. Plus, I made you unbelievably cute--so chill.�

Because, in my mind, God talks like a high school sophomore.

That happened several months ago and, with everything that has happened since, I find in that simple verse a tremendous sense of comfort.

There is a plan, there is a reason ... I may not be privy to the details now, but I seem to piece together a little of the puzzle every so often.

I guess I�ll just wait--and hope--I get another piece soon.

Currently Reading: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Listening To: Dashboard Confessional
...Breathe in for luck, breathe in so deep, this air is blessed, you share with me....

Have a happy day!

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