Walkin' Along, Singin' a Song...

I am learning how to go through each day in blind faith that God will take care of me. Blind, I tell you. Can't see your own hand in front or your face dark. I'm pretty calm with the occasional breakdown in tears, but overall, steady. My demeanor kind of concerns me, because I think that surely the stress is somewhere--perhaps in a tumor or something. I don't know. So here I am, just walking through the day, dangling on a thread. Sometimes the wind catches me, and I blow slightly off the ground, but I just keep moving my feet. I eventually land and hit the ground walking.

God helps me through friends. Sometimes I don't even know them. Sometimes I do. I have gone through my Christian life with the solid truth that Faith is not a feeling. (Thank you, John Green!!! I am on the Rock.) It's the substance of things hoped for and evidence of the unseen. So I base my life on not feeling a thing. I don't need chills and thrills. And yet, these days, I'm seeing things. Amazing. I see God pull me out almost everyday. It seems luxurious to me. To be able to actually know that certain things are miracles on my behalf. Welcome to the bottom, Karen! Where there is no other explanation but God! This is what it looks like for Him to save me. I literally begged Him to rescue me, and so, I am. Being rescued. It is terrifying and peaceful at the same time. I don't want to necessarily stay down here at the bottom of the well. It's dark and damp. But everyday, a bucket is lowered and it doesn't have lotion in it like on Silence of the Lambs. ( I'm always on the look out for serial killers.) It usually has money and kindness. I look up and all I can see is the patch of sky afforded by the opening of the well. That's the view. Limited, but enough. I guess. God thinks it's enough.

I feel like a reporter. "Well that wraps things up from the pit. Back to you, Dan."

So God, help me learn what I need to learn, so I don't have to be taught this again. I don't want a refresher course later, although, I could see me needing one. Corrie Ten Boom's sister said that "There is no pit so deep that God is not deeper still." Underneath my pit is just His hand. I am in His palm. He won't lose me or my kids. Or you.

A little ramble.

I have never been afraid of being "alone". I have said this to friends, and some have smiled, shook their head, and said, "just wait." Well, I'm here. I'm not going to say that loneliness is great. It isn't. But after living the life that I have lived for so long, it could be worse.

***warning *** disclaimer*** I know that I am a little 'messed up", ok? So the things that I say may not reflect the healthy woman at this stage in life. So please know that what is good for me, I do not recommend for you. Maybe. Whatever. Disclaimer over.

I sleep whenever I feel like it. I take naps without guilt. I do almost everything with no guilt. I do the dishes like I always did, but it doesn't feel so bad. No one is telling me that it's woman's work. Cleaning toilets was woman's work, too. My children help me. It's nice. I set the tone in my home. I can play music. Any music. I can laugh. Freely. I do not live in fear of explaining myself or deafening silence or whatever. I am a person in my home. I have a personality. No one gets to tell me what I am "really thinking". I just think. They are my thoughts. Mine. I am not dishonored as a valid human. People apologize to me, because that is normal. I cook what I want. I am not "taught lessons". I blog! Some know what I am talking about. Some think I am stating the obvious. And that is just it. It is obvious to be a real person.

I try very hard to treat my children with the same respect. To honor their feelings, thoughts, and where they are in life. I remember. Their questions don't scare me. They honestly do not need to look like me, talk like me, think like me. They tend to, but that is because they see things that make sense.

So my house is a free place. Not Hippy Free, but safe. Safe to get mad, safe to laugh, to sleep, eat. No one is going to get up in your face here. I like it.

People. I just don't know sometimes.

So last night I worked at Johnny's. This was the first time that people actually got on my nerves. I thought I was so above that, and yet, I found myself wanting to drink after work. Like those rich people on soap operas who have a crystal bottle of scotch always handy. I think that if bug spray tastes like anything, it would have to be scotch. But a lovely sangria or something...

It could have been the insane lady who had a million menu questions for me, the hostess. She was full of inquiry and demands. Maybe it was the 3 high chairs she wanted, or her sheer volume, or the fact that she left crayons in a pool of ranch when she left. God help me.

There are people who sigh and are put out if they have to wait for a table on a Friday night. Like my frantic scurrying right before their very eyes to clean the table meant for them is not enough. Faster, you wench!

And my all time favorite. When people are brought to the dreaded table 3 or 15. Heavens no. They are tables that have a bench on one side and chairs on the other. I think the chairs are the culprit here. They seem ok. They are sturdy and have cushioned seats. But when some people approach this booth, they glance at each other as though I am suggesting that they sit in bean bag chairs or something. "Please remove your shoes folks and I'll be right over with the sake." The very idea that I would suggest that they take this table... Some people just flat out say that they need another table. Some are quietly insulted, but look around for other more suitable tables. I just don't get it. I have begun to minimize eye contact when presenting these. It's a hard sell. I get a sadistic little rush when there are no other available tables, and I get to guide a well-to-do couple (who are at a BBQ joint) to the chair booth. They usually resign, but not without asking one another if this is really ok. "Are you sure?" as they both look at one another with furrowed brows. I'm gone in a millisecond.

I need to work on this. I know my face needs to smile. I know that people are just hungry and most people are pleasant. I just always struggle with entitled-ness. On any level. I wonder if I am entitled? Must think...I know that I represent Johnny while I am there. I honestly remind myself of this constantly. It gets me through. The man is worth it. He is a gem. I can do this.

I was talking to Carole about writing. Many know Carole's blog The Wardrobe and the White Tree (link down on right). She is always encouraging me to write. I used to love to write. Or I should say, I have always loved to write, but I stopped. On purpose. I felt that the things I had to say could hurt people, and my rantings are just not that important. You first. Me second. I've got that one down.

But there is something very appealing about being known. Not necessarily loved or admired. That's good, but I will be happy with known. To be a valid person with thoughts and perspective is good enough. So when I type out these thoughts, I realize that I may very well be the only person reading them. (Except for Carole!) But that's ok. I think I will elaborate on some of the points in the previous post for awhile. I need to talk more about death and birth and abuse and fake boobs. About racism and growing up in Baton Rouge in my family. Lots of things. Things I love and not. So just let me. Thanks.

Who Am I?

Who?

The question is a good one. I'm not sure I know. A long time ago I had an idea, but for so many years it became necessary to not be anything. To exist and survive. To suppress until nothing bothered to come to the surface anymore. Thoughts, passions, ideas all had no place to go. The only thing that was safe to channel was my fierce love for my children. So I loved and loved. Still do. But now I am faced with a void--not a void. Just a closet full of stuff that hasn't been used in my head and heart. I know some of it is dead or outdated. Like an attic full of 8 tracks and dead plants. But, there are small signs of life, so I have hope. Just a flicker, but since there is no breeze, I think it won't go out. So I will begin my list. Things that I do know. And maybe from there, who knows?

1. I am Karen Marie Louque. I know my name is Harvey, but I took that name to become something I did not become. I'm from Baton Rouge. Born in Our Lady of the Lake hospital in April 1965. Went to Bellingrath. Central Middle, Redemptorist. Tried to be a bad ass. I'm not one.

2. I strongly, oh so strongly, dislike conforming to social expectations. If you say I can't, you'd better have a legitimate reason why not. And there are some reasons that I buy. But not many. I love you, but don't tell me what to do.

3. Laughter heals me. Or it sustains me. It gets me through boredom, physical pain, and funerals.

4. I hate death. Death and I go back a long way. He is stronger than I am. I concede. I tap out. Surrender. Don't want no mo. And yet, I know....

5. I used to think it was noble to want to suffer. That was not smart. If you ask God to try you in fire, He might. He might whether you ask or not. But I don't desire it. It's not romantic. I'm good.

6. I hate racism. Despise it. Martin Luther King is one of my favorite thinkers and speakers of all time. I live in a place where people still wave the Confederate flag. Dear lord.

7. I will never get fake boobs, because, if I did, I would have to somehow go back in time and apologize to adolescent Karen. She went through f'''ing Middle and High school with double A's. She was constantly judged and told she was not as pretty or sexy because of that. Her father never saw a set of boobs that he did not comment on. She had to flip off the world. She did, and I will never betray her.

8. I can read people's character, usually men, by seeing their eyes. This is weird. I have almost never been wrong. I say almost, but I cannot remember ever being wrong. If you have "bad eyes", I've got your number. It sometimes takes a little while, but the bad eye people show themselves. This sounds crazy, I know. Whatever.

9. Abuse kills the spirit. Murders it.

10. I want to write a book, but am afraid that it wouldn't be interesting.

11. Holding my newborns was the most wonderful, heart bursting, ass kicking, glorious, miraculous experience in the universe. God used my children to keep my soul alive. They are worth everything. I knew on day one of Bradley's life what a mother bear feels like. I am serious. I will maul you.

12. I will not discuss sex here. I'll save that for my book. Huge subject.

13. I think it is arrogant to be "offended". It implies that you are somehow in a position of superiority. You're not.

That's it for now. I will keep adding maybe. Maybe not. Peace and Joy.

Welcome to Johnny's!

Today I will once again put on my fancy apron and head off to Johnny's BBQ for some more server training. God Bless Andrea or Brandy or Michelle. We are servers now. Not waitresses. I don't know why. I guess it's supposed to make us feel more noble somehow to be serving and not waiting. I wouldn't feel any less if I waited, but whatever. People still want their sweet tea as soon as their butts graze the wooden bench. They still need a second to look over the menu, and they still leave small tips if they are over 65. I'm fine with it. I just hope I don't upset the guys in the kitchen. I could really screw up their world today. And then I need to learn how to carry those big trays while looking effortless. I've had no major spills yet...So everyone, be nice to a server/waitress/person seeing to it that you eat today. Life is still good if you are going to lunch.

Roux in typical stance.

Long time coming.

Hello! It's been a long, long time since I updated.

My life is moving right along. I am still in the midst of a divorce, but it is OK. Bradley is doing well in BR. My gosh, he is so funny. Andrew is still playing music. He got a raise, so that is very good. He has taken up "grappling" which is a wresting/fighting thing. It cannot be more dangerous than football. Which brings me to Evan. Spring Football is going on. He is playing right now on varsity. Honey is feverishly writing her books everyday. The girl is driven. And Isabelle is blossoming into her own person. They'll all be in the public school next year. Not what I had necessarily planned, but it will have to be OK.

I am working at Johnny's BBQ. The people there are great. I mean that. Thank God for the welcoming atmosphere there. I am trying each day, no each moment, to find something good and peaceful to focus on. This sounds like a cliche, but I am seriously doing this. I will get through these times. I'm not sure what it will look like on the other side, but that is God's job. I will trust Him to do what is best for our spirits and try not to question what He chooses to do. This is the hardest thing I have ever been through, and as I've said before, I've been through some junk. So we shall see...

Here is my list of simple joys of the day. Please feel free to add.

1. Reading in bed with Honey and Isabelle.
2. Listening to music with Andrew.
3. Watching Evan eat after practice.
4. Bradley's fun on Facebook.
5. The "look" on Roux's face when going for a ride in the car.
6. Interacting with the good people at Johnny's.
7. Keeping up with loved ones on Facebook.

How about you?