We moved to the little town of Venus,Texas almost 11 years ago. A country ranch house, high vaulted ceilings, sky lights, lots of windows, no window coverings, hundreds of acres
and neighboring homes only viewable at the end of the long graveled driveway. It would appear to some that this was Heaven. But to city slickers, it was an adjustment. Both for us and those great citizens of Venus.
Three little boys, stacks and stacks of boxes, accustomed to morning sickness, I spent my first day in my short nightgown, Madusa hair style, and bare feet. Yes, that bare foot and pregnant was not lost on me either. Without a fence around the yard to keep out the country wildlife, the boys and I were captive in our summertime home. I however, felt a new freedom to being able to live without curtains, run around both inside and outside the house in p.j.’s without glaring eyes. And if we ran short on bathrooms. . .well. . .you know.
At least, that’s what I thought.
Putting away boxes of books in our glass sun room, the doorbell rang. Another delivery or installation guy I guessed. And I was right. Only, I couldn’t open the door to get out of the sun room. Our 7 year old, Andrew had used his beautiful
knot tying technique to entrap me. . .short night gown, crazy hair and all. I was so proud and angry all at the same time. Without the phones in service, I envisioned
the boys tying me up in the middle of the living room and setting the house on fire.
And then, in slow motion, Andrew about to release me from my prison, heard the door bell and slowly began to back away. “No, no, no Andrew!” “NO-Don’t answer the door!” He moved at a swift pace running away from me and opened the
door to the natural gas delivery guy, who just kind of stood there looking at this crazy- haired half naked pregnant woman Pounding on the door. Like an exhibit in the zoo, he squinted his eyes moving side to side matching my squinting eyes moving side to side as I yelled, “Um, so sorry, but I’m locked in here! Give me a just a moment.”
Now, he could have come to my rescue. But we were city folk, new to town, a new species. It was hopeless. This guy was never going to rescue me nor leave. If he had a bag of popcorn, he would have just sat and enjoyed the show. I left the sun room through the outside door that led to the back yard.
Bare foot and pregnant, I walked all the way around the house, crunching
the sun dried grass mixed with dirt between my toes, around the garage via lava
hot concrete and up the front walk to my own front door, past the delivery man,
and into the house to sign his paperwork. He stared… I didn’t care. “Welcome to Venus, Mrs. Lamgo.” Yeah, yeah.
Deliveries, telephone repair men, Dish Network, Plumbers, glass repair men, and electricians made the voyage. The word was out. . .Mrs. Lamgo does’t wear
I think it was then that “the crazy woman on the hill” became Mrs. Lamgo and Mrs. Lamgo became the “crazy woman on the hill.” My life spent so carefully
molding the image I wanted people to see was over. It was freeing to some extent. I no longer had to fake my way through life, keep a pristine home, kids and image. I
could be. . .me! Image was so very important in our Colorado lives. The big house,
the cars, the wardrobe. I had moved into a society that preferred “real” people and I was anxious to fit in.
Fast forward. . .11 yrs…
Yesterday I celebrated my 41st birthday! Yes, exciting. I did nothing. It was AWESOME!!! But I think where people often suffer from a “mid life” crises actually comes from the great realization that you have wasted a great deal of your life on pleasing self, falsifying an image of “perfect” to others, and chasing dreams that in the end never matter. I have spent the first 40 years of my life going in the wrong direction. And now, at 40 something, I have had a big wake up call to just where I am and what I want to be doing with my life.
My children, my business, my marriage
are not my own. They belong to God and in my 41st year, I am begging Him to take the lead and praying to fully trust His every move. Even if it means I’m locked in a glass room in my jammies.
That’s not easy for a control freak like me. It’s not easy to have lost and lost over and over again and then just hand over the keys and trust that loss could come again. . .but it’s ok. The truth. . .my life is messy! Your life is messy! We all create an image we want to project that speaks “we have life by the horns.” We’re perfect little families with perfect parents and perfect children. But it’s fake. It’s an image filtered and fixed to fit in with what we think we want in life.
I’m thankful that although different, we made our life here in the country. I’m thankful that the Lord has kept my children who really could care less what others think of them. I’m learning. Often slowly, but I’m learning to be real. Be myself and be only who God wants me to be. The crazy woman on the hill is just another mom here in Venus. Just like you. . .my life gets messy. . .but it’s real.