On This Day, Your 21st Birthday...

Austin Age 3.

I can remember it like it was yesterday, finding out I was pregnant with my first child. The amount of fear and excitement that ran through me at that moment cannot be matched. The following months as my belly grew and I got to hear
your heart beating and feel your kicks and flips and hiccups, I fell in love with you. In those months it was just you and me. I didn't have to share you. Your tiny bumps and turns were just for me. I would sometimes poke you back and tell you how excited I was to meet you. But I was also scared. I knew that the moment you arrived, our lives would be forever changed. We'd be in charge of another life. A tiny and innocent and vulnerable little life. How terrifying that was to imagine.
That day, 21 years ago today, when I finally was able to find out IT'S A BOY! I could not be happier. Then they placed you on my chest and I saw your little face for the first time. All the fear, all the doubt, just went away. Your little cry, your teeny tiny little fingers and toes. Gramma counted them right away! You had 10 of each! The amount of love I had instantly for my little 6lb 10oz baby boy, was bigger than any universe. I already loved you to the moon and back.

For the past 21 years I have done everything I possibly could do, to make sure you always knew you are loved. To make sure that you knew I always have your back. I know, especially in the early years, I screwed up sometimes. I maybe yelled too much, or spanked you more than I should have. I know there were times I was so angry, I probably scared you. Or maybe I wasn't always 100% present in the times you needed me to be. I wasn't the perfect mom. I screwed up. I didn't do everything right by you. I didn't do everything right, but I did the best I could. Always. I hope you know I cherished your sweet face and your laughter. I cherished your little car sounds when you raced your Hot Wheels around the floors. I loved watching you use your imagination when you built your Chevy Fiary. Or when you would get up early on the weekends to watch NASCAR or Monster Trucks.  Or when we would watch Nick Jr. and play JJ the Jungle Jukebox.  Please know all of those memories and the million others memories, big and small, are pieces of my heart that you own.

I'm looking at you now, a man on his own. Working and making a life for yourself. Your manly voice, your facial hair, your tall stature and broad shoulders. But I want you to know, I still only hear your little voice of 3 years old. I still only see your little tiny face and big brown eyes. I see your toothless smiles. I will always see you as my little Punkinseed. I was there for all of your firsts. I never missed a single moment. Not one. I walked you into your first day of school and when you wouldn't let go of my hand, I wish now that I hadn't pulled it away. I wish I had kept hold just a few moments more. Because it wasn't too many years later, walking into your first day of school that you were too big to hold my hand anymore. If I had known that day, that it was the last time I would ever hold your hand, or carry you, or get to read you a bedtime story and tuck you in. Or if I had known it was the last time you'd sit on my lap or kiss me good-night, I would have insisted on making those moments last a bit longer. I would have been less in a hurry and more in that moment with you.

I look at new parents now, with little ones who remind me of you. And I see the mom's losing their patience and being

a little bit too harsh or ignoring them when they're trying to show them their latest trick. And it brings me back to when you were that age. I want to go up to those mom's and tell them, please know, this time with your child goes quicker than quick. You will blink and suddenly they will be 21 years old and you WILL regret all these moments where you should have done  better. Where you should have paid attention or listened more. It goes so fast.
It went too fast.

Here I am on your birthday and all I can think about is how much I love you. And how I wish I could make

you small again. So I could have a do over.  It's not because I'm not proud of the man you've become, because I could not be more proud of you. I wish I could make you small again because that selfish side of me wants that time back with you. I don't want to share you. I want to hear your little voice again. I want to spend more time with you, I want to see all your tricks again. I want to hold you one more time on my lap and read you your favorite book and hear about your day. I want to see you in your little Nascar hat sitting on Papa's lap talking about trucks. I want to see your sweet little bald head and your tiny little feet.

But at the same time, I want to see you now, as the man that you are. Seeing you laugh. Knowing you are happy and healthy and loved. Seeing you make things with your hands and talk about the things that make you happy. I am proud of you. You have grown so much in the last 21 years and I am happy to have been able to be a part of that. You are one of the best human beings I know. Your heart is giant, your compassion is great. I hope you know how much joy you bring to me. How, whenever I see you it makes my whole day. I hope you know that when you feel like the world is against you, when you feel like you are being kicked in the teeth, I am here.

First birthday!

Happy birthday Punkinseed. You make me so proud. It has been such a joy and privilege to be your mom and to raise you. Thank you for the countless times you have given me grace to

make mistakes as your mom. I hope you know I would take them all back and fix them if I could. But since I cannot do that, I want to be in this moment with you and celebrate all your successes, big and small. I want you to know that there is simply nothing I wouldn't do for you, if it is in my power to do it. I want you to know I am your biggest fan, I hope you know I am.

On The Eve

We are told to lean on God in times of pain, or worry or stress. There are several passages in the Bible about it, my favorite is Psalm 18:2. And it's true, we should. I have wept many times in the lap of Jesus wrapped in his arms. The way to get through grief is in everyone's mouths when you tell them someone close to you died.

"It will be okay."

"It will get easier."   

                                                            "Just take one day at a time."

                                                           
                                  "Be strong"

What no one tells you though, is even if you take it one day at a time, the pain doesn’t subside, it just gets easier to compartmentalize. It gets easier to choke back tears and smile when your entire body is really only wanting to convulse in tears and heart break. No one tells you the truth. The truth that losing someone you have deeply loved your entire life, that losing your hero is one of the most tragic pains you will ever feel. Losing a parent. It’s not for the weak of heart.

Here I sit on the eve of the 1 yr anniversary of that horrible 11:00pm phone call that shattered my world forever. That phone call everyone knows will come one day, but you are just never ready for it to actually be your turn to pick it up. Hearing my mom’s broken voice as she choked out the words, “dad is gone.” will forever be etched into my memories. Knowing full well no matter how much it was hurting me, no matter how much I would suffer over the next several days as we made arrangements and ordered the programs and looked through pictures, no matter how much I was hurting, I knew that my mom would be in a pain that is so intense and so deep, she would feel like drowning in it.

Telling the kids was hard. I could barely get the words out. Seeing the silent tears and hearing the audible sobs, knowing they had lost their beloved Papa. Those are sounds you can never unhear. I don’t really remember much after that until we pulled up at my mom and dad’s house. When I faced that front door, knowing as soon as I walked through it, I would instantly feel his absence from this earth, from our lives for good. The finality of it all. It was never going to be the same. Nothing would ever be the same again.

I walked through that front door and wrapped my arms around my mom and sobbed with her for a few moments. In those moments I remember just wanting nothing more than to hear it was all a bad misunderstanding. He was really going to be okay and would be walking through the door at any moment. But the stark reality of it was, that was never going to happen. I know that he had left the house that night to hang out with some of his friends, and he would never return. He was gone. Just gone. And none of us got to say good-bye. We never got to make sure he knew how important he was to us.

I always made sure to hug him and tell him I loved him before we parted ways, but in those moments you wonder… did he really know? Did he know how much he was loved? Did he know how much we needed him? How much I depended on him to be my North Star? He was the man who helped guide all of my most important life decisions along with the ones that may have seemed meaningless, but I always sought his wisdom. Now, I would never be able to pick up the phone again and ask his opinions or his advice. Now I would never get those text messages again that told me where he was at the moment, usually waiting on mom someplace. I would never hear his laugh or look into his eyes. I would never be able to wrap my arms around him again and tell him I love him.

I think about all the things we no longer have because he’s gone. But I also think about all the things we do have because he was in our lives. We have our inside jokes and all the things he said or did that made us laugh so hard. We have the memories of camping and fishing and swimming. Of playing Croquet and watching him so he didn’t cheat! I have the mental photographs of him in his police uniform and I can still hear his squeaky leather duty belt that held his gun and handcuffs and radio. I can still smell his Old Spice cologne and his KIWI shoe polish. I can see him in the kitchen making waffles on the morning after Thanksgiving alongside my daughter as he taught her how to make eggs. I can hear his voice as he read The Night Before Christmas. I can see him cutting the ham (that he more than likely was trying a new recipe for) at Easter dinner and teasing me because his batch of Grandma’s rolls came out better than mine. WAY better. I can see him sitting outside barbecuing and enjoying a cold beer. Reminiscing about the Coast Guard days with my uncle Gary. Or retelling his favorite childhood stories, about his old dog Major or the days of hell-raising he did with his best buddies. He loved to tell stories and I loved to listen. We also have memories of him singing along to his favorite songs. I got my love of music from him, at least I like to think so. I knew all the oldies, all the old country, Hank, George, Merle, Waylon and even Patsy. I knew them all and could sing along with him. He was also the only other person I knew besides me that would break out in songs when someone would say something that reminded us of a line from a song. I also remember all the lessons he taught me, all the times he was patient and calm, but stern.

I miss him every single day without fail. He is never far from my thoughts. I try to picture his face, and listen for his voice. I try to live my life in a way that would hopefully make him proud. Because there was nothing that meant more to me than to know he was proud of me. I like to picture him in Heaven with my grandparents and his brother Pat. I know he is up there looking down on us. Especially mom. I know he watches her to make sure she’s okay. The love he had for her was something you only read about in books. He looked at her with such love and it was obvious he was happy just being in her presence.

What I have learned in this year is that the pain of losing my daddy runs deep and it has knocked the wind out of me. I have learned that my grief is valid and it’s okay to still cry at the drop of a hat, a year later. Because I do. Even if I have to sneak away to the bathroom at work, or behind sunglasses in the car, it’s okay to cry and miss him. It’s okay to feel it and walk myself through that grief in any way I need to. It’s okay. I have also learned that I am strong. That my role in this family has changed. I had to walk through some ugly and not so fun stuff with my mom, like getting paperwork in order and seeing her make plans for when she passes. She made sure I knew what to do and what her wishes were. It was hard, and normally I would shy away from it, push it away, but I faced it head on with her. We got each other through the roughest few months and continue to pull each other through the really hard days. I’ve learned how to care for my mom and have spent every Sunday with her for the past year, which has made us closer than ever. I have learned how strong SHE is and have watched her walk through her grief and make no apologies for it. I’m proud of her. I’m proud of us.

I don’t know what this next year will bring us. I just know my daddy will not be far from my thoughts and heart. I know we will get through it as a family and be stronger for it.

Wish You Were Here

Our whole lives we know it is inevitable. We know one day we will no longer walk this earth. We know it, but when it happens to someone we love it has the ability, the power, to flatten us. It can shatter our hearts, our souls, sometimes it shatters our lives if we let it.

In March I received that devastating phone call we all dread at 11:00pm. On March 25th I lost my daddy. I can still feel the gut-punch of those words spoken by my mom, "Dad died tonight." The words lingered in the air like fog. I heard her but I just wasn't understanding. All in one moment my life, the life of my family, especially the life of my mom, had changed forever.

My mind instantly went to, what was the last thing I said to him? What did I leave unsaid? Did he know how much he meant to me? Did he know how much I looked up to him. Did he know he was my one true hero? I know I told him all of these things, but even though I knew that, it still didn't feel like enough. He didn't hear it enough. He didn't know it enough. I didn't get to say it enough. And how, in the honest name of God, will I go on without my dad?  All these questions flooded me in those first few moments.

He died 6 days before my birthday. In the wake of all our grief and despair and confusion, my mom gave me the last birthday gift my dad would ever give me. A necklace that said, "My little girl yesterday, my friend today, my daughter forever. I love you"

Did he know those would be the last words he would ever tell me? Did he know those are the words I would need to hear the most from him after he was gone and could no longer tell me to my face? I opened the box and read those words and cried with deep powerful sobs. Not just because this is the last gift I would ever get from my dad, but because it was such a gift of the heart. From his heart to mine. I sobbed because God knew. Because it was proof that God knew what it was I was going to need to hear from my daddy. They both knew.

Losing my dad has proven to be the most difficult thing I have ever gone through. Some days are harder than others. On the days I feel strong, I think about all the memories I have. I think about the time we spent together. I relive my most special and favorite moments of being his daughter. The father daughter banquets, the board games he taught me to play, the times I disappointed him while growing up, the times I hoped I made him proud. Some of my most favorite moments though, are the ones that are just ours. When he walked me down the aisle, with tears in his eyes. The moments before the doors opened and I was there, holding his arm just in that moment with the first man I ever loved. The first time I saw him holding one of my babies. The look of pride on his face every time he looked into their tiny faces. The times that he would sneek around behind mom's back to buy her special Christmas gifts. He'd show me and always asked, "Do you think she'll like it?" That hopeful but excited tone in his voice. Wrapping his gifts for my mom was one of the greatest highlights of the holidays for me because it was just between he and I.

Today is my daddy's 69th birthday. Today I won't get to gather my family around the phone and call him to sing our annual, really badly sung birthday song and hear him chuckle when it was over. I won't get to bring him a card that I thoughtfully picked out and wrote something heartfelt inside of. Today I won't get to hug him, and tell him I love him and happy birthday. There will be no cake, no birthday gifts. Today, there will be tears. There will be the ever present pain and feeling of this missing presence in our world. But what I also hope for is the reality that we know how much he loved us. That we think about the times we did get to celebrate with him. I hope that in our moments of grief today, we feel him with us. Because I believe he is.

I know he will never read this, but I wanted to tell my dad one last time:

Daddy,

I miss you every day. I hope you know how much you are loved. I know you are looking down on us, especially mom. I hope you spend time with her and let her know you are there. I know I feel you with me sometimes. I just wish I could hug you. I wish that today, I could bring you another book I just know you'll love, but you'll never get all the way through because you fall asleep while you're reading. I wish I could sit down with you and ask your advice about what to do about our kitchen. I wish I could sit down with you and hear more stories about life in the Coast Guard, or on the farm. Or the crazy stories of you and John and Mike. I just want to hear your voice one more time. Just once. Okay maybe twice. No, even twice wouldn't be enough. I just want you back.
Dad, I want you to know that I'm trying. I try every day to make you proud of the daughter you raised. I try to instill in my children the things you taught me. I talk about you as often as I can, because I want everyone to know what kind of man my dad was. I am proud to be your daughter. You are the strongest, kindest, most loyal man I ever knew. You are everything a daughter could have ever wanted. I hope you know I am taking care of mom as best I can. She is taking care of us too. We are going to be alright. We will get through. One day at a time. Okay, one moment at a time. We are all so happy that you are no longer in pain. You are able to sit down with your loved ones in heaven and talk about the old days. That brings us peace. We think about you every day and look forward to seeing you again some day. I love you daddy. Thank you for all you did for me. Thank you for always forgiving me and showing me what it meant to be unconditionally loved.

I love you to the moon and back,
Your daughter

I Did Not Sign Up For This Job

Today was one of those days when I leave work and cannot help but say, I do not get paid enough for this job. As some of you may know, part of my job description at work, which is also our church, is administrative assistant. Basically, I answer phones, greet people as they come in, guide visitors to various pastors and staff.

Frankly speaking, seeing how the church works "behind the scenes" has been very eye opening and has both rattled and deepened my faith in God. But that isn't what this is about. What I am talking about is when I signed up for my particular job, I did not sign up to do what I have done twice, in as many months. Let me explain.

Last month, our church had a luncheon and I was helping all morning and was there checking everyone in. Almost everyone was checked in, and I felt the need to get back to the office and get some work done. I was not sitting in my chair for more than a minute when the phone rang. On the other end of the phone was a woman who was a "researcher for the 700 Club", yeah right lady! Sure! I entertained her call for a few moments while she told me why she was calling. She was looking for a gentleman who attended our church who was a walking miracle. I, myself am the daughter of a walking miracle, so hearing that made me perk up a bit. As she continued she only said the man's name, which I recognized, and she said the 700 Club wanted to interview him for a segment they were doing on the show.

Now, answering the phone at a church, you do get a lot of strange calls. Some of them are even legit! But there are some, like this particular one, that makes you really wonder if it's real. I mean, how likely was it that I had come back at just the right time, to catch this very phone call? Oh yeah! I work for God, and we all know He's not a God of coincidence. So I took her information down and hung up. Still not 100% convinced it wasn't just a scam.

So I called the gentleman she was asking about and his wife picked up. I explained to her the call I received and that I really wasn't sure if it was just a scam or something. What happened next completely rocked me and it made me even more certain that I had done the right thing in calling. She told me about how her husband, years earlier had been diagnosed with multiple tumors on his lungs. He had a sure death sentence and he was told to get his affairs in order. They came to church the following weekend and told the Pastor and his wife, who immediately gathered around them and prayed for him, for his health, for a miraculous healing. Long story short, this man is cancer free. His tumors are gone. And doctors cannot explain it. He is a miracle. This wife and I spoke for almost 30 minutes. I told her the story of my dad and she and I celebrated our walking miracles together. I was so blessed by hearing this story. I was so grateful for that time with her and before we hung up she told me that I had blessed HER by calling her and listening as she told that story.

The second one just happened yesterday/today. Yesterday, I was getting ready to walk out the door at the end of my day when the phone rang. I turned back and answered. She was an elderly woman who was calling on a whim. Who wasn't even sure if I could or would help her. She was unsure whether or not she even had the right information. She was looking for her cousin, whose husband is a pastor at a 4 Square Church (she thinks) and all she had was her first and last name. She told me about some of the memories she had of her cousin and as she reminisced you could just hear the joy in them. I explained to her that I had never heard the name, and if I had I could not give her that information. I took down her information, the few tidbits of information she had on her cousin, I told her IF I could do anything, it wouldn't be until tomorrow and let her know I would call her back either way, so she wasn't wondering. Then we hung up.

As I came into work today, I saw my note from yesterday, with her information. I decided I would look up the name she gave me, convinced it would be a dead end. It wasn't. I found the woman and her email address and sent her a detailed letter about the phone call I received. Gave her the woman's name and phone number and asked her to let me know if it is her this woman is looking for because I would call the woman back and let her know it was a dead end. Much to my surprise, I received a phone call from the cousin. She explained when she read my email she had no idea who I was talking about. She did not recognize the names. So she called her sister, who immediately recognized it. She then reminded her who this woman was. The lady on the other end of the line said that it was such a gift to hear from family like this. It was just she and her sister now and so having family out there and being able to reconnect was a blessing. She told me the woman had grown up in a rough family. Had come to live with her and her family for 6 months. She was not sure this woman knew Jesus and said to me, "I wonder if this is God's way of connecting us, so she can come to know the Lord." This conversation completely moved me to tears. I really feel that it is exactly why this woman, who is now 72 years old, is reaching out for her cousin, who is married to a pastor. Not only for the familial connection, but maybe... possibly, also to give her life, finally, to Jesus. I told the lady on the phone that I was going to pray for that. They are set to meet here in town and reconnect.

So, as I said before, I didn't sign up for this. I signed up for a basic job, at a church and had no idea the lives that would connect with mine over that phone. These two people are not the only ones that have touched me over the years. But they are the two that stand out in my heart. The two that touched me in a way only God stories can. I didn't sign up for it, but I am so grateful to be able to have this job so I can hear stories and be a part, even a small, miniscule part of someone else's God story.

What a blessing.

And just so you know, that woman in the first story who claimed to be from the 700 Club, was truly who she said she was. The 700 Club IS interviewing this couple for a segment on their program. So if you're a 700 Club viewer, you will see this man's story and your life will be touched as well.

What I Learned In June

I have recently been inspired to make a list of things I learned in June.

Here we go:
1. Sergeant Stubby. If you don't know about this war hero, don't feel alone. Until a couple of weeks ago, I didn't either. In a few brief words I will tell you who he was. He was a stray pit bull who was adopted by a soldier in the 102nd Infantry 26th Yankee Division in WW1. He became a hero because he ended up saving lives. What I need to know is, why is this not a movie? Come on Hollywood! Enough with the Hangover movies, let's make a movie about something real. Learn more about SGT. Stubby.

2. I am an introvert. Alright seriously, I always kind of knew this, but this month I have decided to embrace it. No more will I look at the label introvert, as a bad thing. I like my quiet time. I like my alone time. I don't do well in crowds or with groups of people for long periods of time. I don't particularly like attending weddings and showers or parties because they are generally attended by lots of people I don't know. Being an introvert while being the mom of 4 and a wife isn't always easy or convenient but it is reality and it's time I accept it.

3.I am OBSESSED with shows about history. Two of my current favorites are Mysteries At The Museum and Monumental Mysteries. I am constantly looking into and reading things about people I had no idea existed, events I had no idea happened or simply, fun tidbits of history that make up our great world. I love it. The more I learn, the more I want to learn.

4. Pinterest has taught me I WANT to be more organized, be a better cook, a creative baker and a more creative home interiors designer, but I will likely never do half the things I "pin" about. It has taught me I want to be and do better and that it is obtainable, as long as I don't seek perfection.

5. Being the mom of a high school graduate isn't as hard as I thought it would be. I cried and had anxiety about my oldest child graduating high school. I have learned that it doesn't really feel any differently than when he was in school. However, this is likely going to change once September hits and he's not going back to high school. So for this one I will add a "to be continued"...

So I guess in a nutshell, I've learned a lot about myself. It just proves that we never really ever stop growing and learning. The important part is learning and moving forward at the same time.

This has certainly been an eye opening experience. I may just have to make another list in July!

What have you learned in June?

Truth is...

I don't ever want you to be mistaken about me. I am what most people would consider a happy woman. I'm surrounded by a family that loves me. I have a husband that still looks at me like he's newly in love. My kids are funny and creative and ornery and interesting. They're all genius in their own way. I could go on for days about my kids! We live a typical suburban life. I consider myself a Christian in process. Meaning only that I am forever growing in my faith. In my understanding of what the Bible really means. I'm learning every day how to pray for myself and my family. However, I'm not the kind of person who looks at a situation and instantly finds Jesus in it. Sometimes I swear. Sometimes I make fun of people, not always to their face. I often disagree with other Christian's on religion, gay rights and whether or not we should ever get divorced. I have my opinions on abortions and sex before marriage. I have a whole slew of opinions that would make my pastor gasp!

What I believe is, God loves us so much He sent us His only Son to die in place of us, for the sins we just won't stop committing. I believe Jesus died for me (and you too) and that He loves us. ALL of us. Even the people doing time on death row for murder. Even that homeless man who flies a piece of cardboard that says "Anything helps." Even you, on your worst day, when you scream the "F" word at the driver who cut you off in traffic.

I used to care what people would think of me if they knew my life story. I used to be afraid to tell people the things in my life that aren't happy and shiny. Ask me and I will share my testimony with you, because I do have one. We all have one. If you ask me, be prepared to listen because I will tell you, in detail what I went through, what I've overcome and how I prevailed. I will share with you how God has taught me more than all my years in school.

What I'm really beginning to understand is that what really truly matters is my walk with God and the people who surround me every day. The 5 other people who make up my family. They are the ones I most value. They are the ones I cling to and want to hide away with when things in my life aren't pretty and shiny. No one makes me laugh as much as my husband and children. No man on this earth makes me feel more loved, more alive than the man I married over 17 years ago. My kids make me more proud than I ever dreamed. What matters is them. What matters is Jesus. As long as I have my family and Jesus in my circle, I can get through the worst of times.

I am pretty certain in this next season of my life I will piss a LOT of people off. I may lose friends (but if I really lose them, were they truly my friends to begin with?). The truth is, I can only be me. And, I am learning who that is more and more each and every day. I won't ever pretend I'm perfect or have all the answers, but what I can promise is I am always just me.

Mary Christmas

My mind has been consumed this year by thoughts of Mary. As a mom, a wife, as a woman, I cannot imagine how Mary must have felt when she was chosen to carry the Christ child! Our savior... her savior. How must she have felt knowing she was solely responsible to bring this baby into the world. How would I feel knowing my precious baby boy was going to save the lives of everyone who followed Him? How she must have felt knowing people would FOLLOW her son and be saved. The pride, but also the fear of knowing what the end would be. Giving birth knowing you would then watch him tortured and then killed. We try to remember what Christ did for us. How he wiped away our sins. How no matter where we are or what we're doing, God is with us. But those days Jesus walked the earth, he felt pain and sadness, happiness and hunger. He felt thirst and merriment. Do we ever stop and think about Mary? The sacrifice SHE gave to us. As a mom it breaks my heart imagining those days leading up to his crucifixion. How her heart must have broken. How her momma bear instincts must have been in over drive, but being unable to do anything because this is why He was born. This year, I am celebrating the birth of our Savior. But I am also celebrating Mary's greatest gift to the world. Her sacrifice. In the whole scheme of things it isn't like she had a choice right? I like to believe that even though she knew the ending, she knew what the greater outcome would be. Her son would save the world, with his death and resurrection. He gave up the crown for a cradle, for us. Read my renditions of each person on the night of Christ's birth.

Through the eyes of the donkey

Through the eyes of the innkeeper

Through the eyes of Joseph

Through the eyes of Mary

Through the eyes of Jesus

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas. Remember.. it's not about the presents, it's about being present.

Grandma's table...

Most of you see a table, I see a legend, a piece of history. I see love and laughter, tears and sadness beginnings and endings. I see a member of my family. This is(was) my grandmother's table. We all grew up around it. Her children, her grandchildren and great grandchildren. I remember weekends staying with grandma and grandpa and having breakfast,lunch and dinner around this table. Grandma taught me how to play Crazy 8's and King's Corner, snap beans and grind walnuts around this table. The countless poker and cribbage games.

We had many a holiday and birthday meal around this table. The birthday cakes and horrible renditions of the birthday song this table heard over the years.

When I was a confused, scared and unmarried(but engaged) mother to be, I sat at this table and cried to my grandma that everyone was mad at me for being unmarried(but engaged) and pregnant. (only a slight hormonal over exaggeration) Grandma told me she loved me, and that it was all going to be ok, and I believed her and it was. This is the table we sat at when grandpa died. I sat by my uncle Pat while he fixed a hair dryer and talked about "finding" grandpa. I still remember the stoic look on his face. I believe every bit of history long forgotten and never forgotten are engrained in the wood. The hearts of the people that sat around it and talked and laughed and cried, are all still a part of it. I cherish this table and every time I see it in my dining room I can almost see grandma or grandpa sitting there at the head of the table, looking out the window. I will never see this as "just a table." I am so thankful it resides with me and can be passed on to her great(or even great great) grandchildren some day. The new memories we are creating around it will only add to it's charm and beauty, What a beautiful gift.

Forgiving a Monster?

Just needed to get this off my chest.

I recently saw an episode of a television show where a woman was raped. The horror she lived after the rape, the feelings she carried..all of it are real. I know the show has writers and actors, but the emotion, the terror, the pain, both emotional and physical that the character portrayed is something I have lived.

The episode I watched today, she was able to face her attacker and break him down in her mind from a big horrible monster, into the pathetic little man that he is. I never gave myself that opportunity.. My circumstances were different, way different, but the core issue is the same. She forgave him. She forgave him not for him.. but for herself. I remember that feeling.. I remember the day I was able to lift myself out of the shame, self blame and self pity of what happened to me, to stare him down in my mind and forgive him for what he did to me, for what he took from me as a 15 yr old child. The forgiveness set me free in so many ways. I can truly live a life knowing what true forgiveness means.. what it feels like to the very core of your gut.

Jesus does the same for us. I get it. He forgives.. even the monsters of the world, He forgives them.

Forgiveness isn't something that comes easily. It isn't always something that comes right away.. mine came at the age of 28.. when I was finally able to feel strong enough to face that demon and truly forgive what was done to me.

I am not really sure what this is going to accomplish, or who it will reach.. but for today, this is just for me. Forgiving someone for something they have done, whether it's done to or against you, is a true gift to yourself. I'm sure that Jesus cringes when we do wrong, but He loves us enough to forgive us. I loved myself enough to forgive someone else. That is the greatest gift I've ever given myself.

Push me down, build me up

It seems I am being attacked. It started Friday, and I have been struggling ever since. Just when I thought I was getting a handle on it, another stronger attack last night. This time, it brought me to my knees. Thankfully, I was at church. During worship. I just became overwhelmed, stopped singing and fell to my seat and started praying for God's cover and his strength. I just kept repeating, I need You, I need You, I need You. While I was saying that, this came to me and I wrote it down, and I'm going to write it here, so I can come back to it whenever I need to..

Lord, I run to the cross. You are the only One who can help me. You are my strength and my Savior, without you I am weak. I need You and You are there. I cry out, it's You who comes running. It is You who never leaves or makes fun of me in my moments of weakness, instead you reach out to me and say "It WILL be ok" and I believe You. I believe only You.

I wrote that last night, and then was reminded of these Psalms this morning by a friend of mine..(thank you Kelsey)

Psalms 54
Save me, O God, by your name;
vindicate me by your might. Hear my prayer, O God;
listen to the words of my mouth. Strangers are attacking me;
ruthless men seek my life—
men without regard for God.
Selah Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me. Let evil recoil on those who slander me; in your faithfulness destroy them. I will sacrifice a freewill offering to you I will praise your name, O LORD,
for it is good. For he has delivered me from all my troubles,
and my eyes have looked in triumph on my foes.

Psalms 55
Listen to my prayer, O God,
do not ignore my plea;
hear me and answer me.
My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught
at the voice of the enemy,
at the stares of the wicked;
for they bring down suffering upon me
and revile me in their anger.
My heart is in anguish within me;
the terrors of death assail me.
Fear and trembling have beset me;
horror has overwhelmed me.
I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest-
I would flee far away
and stay in the desert;
Selah
I would hurry to my place of shelter,
far from the tempest and storm."
Confuse the wicked, O Lord, confound their speech,
for I see violence and strife in the city.
Day and night they prowl about on its walls;
malice and abuse are within it.
Destructive forces are at work in the city;
threats and lies never leave its streets.
If an enemy were insulting me,
I could endure it;
if a foe were raising himself against me,
I could hide from him.
But it is you, a man like myself,
my companion, my close friend,
with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship
as we walked with the throng at the house of God.
Let death take my enemies by surprise;
let them go down alive to the grave, [b]
for evil finds lodging among them.
But I call to God,
and the LORD saves me.
Evening, morning and noon
I cry out in distress,
and he hears my voice.
He ransoms me unharmed
from the battle waged against me,
even though many oppose me.
God, who is enthroned forever,
will hear them and afflict them—
Selah
men who never change their ways
and have no fear of God.
My companion attacks his friends;
he violates his covenant.
His speech is smooth as butter,
yet war is in his heart;
his words are more soothing than oil,
yet they are drawn swords.
Cast your cares on the LORD
and he will sustain you;
he will never let the righteous fall.
But you, O God, will bring down the wicked
into the pit of corruption;
bloodthirsty and deceitful men
will not live out half their days.
But as for me, I trust in you.
Psalm 56
Be merciful to me, O God, for men hotly pursue me;
all day long they press their attack.
My slanderers pursue me all day long;
many are attacking me in their pride.
When I am afraid,
I will trust in you.
In God, whose word I praise,
in God I trust; I will not be afraid.
What can mortal man do to me?
All day long they twist my words;
they are always plotting to harm me.
They conspire, they lurk,
they watch my steps,
eager to take my life.
On no account let them escape;
in your anger, O God, bring down the nations.
Record my lament;
list my tears on your scroll
are they not in your record?
Then my enemies will turn back
when I call for help.
By this I will know that God is for me.
In God, whose word I praise,
in the LORD, whose word I praise-
in God I trust; I will not be afraid.
What can man do to me?
I am under vows to you, O God;
I will present my thank offerings to you.
For you have delivered me from death
and my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before God
in the light of life.

Psalm 57
Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me,
for in you my soul takes refuge.
I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings
until the disaster has passed.
I cry out to God Most High,
to God, who fulfills {his purpose} for me.
He sends from heaven and saves me,
rebuking those who hotly pursue me;
Selah
God sends his love and his faithfulness.
I am in the midst of lions;
I lie among ravenous beasts—
men whose teeth are spears and arrows,
whose tongues are sharp swords.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
let your glory be over all the earth.
They spread a net for my feet—
I was bowed down in distress.
They dug a pit in my path—
but they have fallen into it themselves.
Selah
My heart is steadfast, O God,
my heart is steadfast;
I will sing and make music.
Awake, my soul!
Awake, harp and lyre!
I will awaken the dawn.
I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations;
I will sing of you among the peoples.
For great is your love, reaching to the heavens;
your faithfulness reaches to the skies.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
let your glory be over all the earth

I know this is something I will get through, but not on my own. With the prayers of my family and my friends, and of course my own. I know this is true.

This is fitting

Christianity and the Small Town Girl

So I grew up in a small town. The same town John Cougar Mellencamp sang about in the 80's in fact. You knew everyone, and everyone knew you and who's kid you were. You couldn't drive 2 miles without seeing, and waving to, at least 3 people. We had a few churches, but the one I went to, was the big Church of Christ, right in the middle of town. It wasn't a huge church, but it felt gigantic inside.
Growing up, we didn't attend church. I can't even remember being told about God, I am sure I was, because I knew ABOUT Him, but not all the "details" I started to go to the Church of Christ in 6th grade, with a friend of mine. I HATED going. I did, I'm not proud of saying that, but it's true. I basically went because I stayed the night at her house and her mom "made" her go. This was the kind of church that had organ music and hymnals. Sunday school classes before "real" church and a basement where all the potlucks were held.

What I did love, was Youth Group. It was supposed to be a time for all of us kids, to come together and talk about God. To talk about how He died for us, and how we are saved. We did that, but it just wasn't cool to be into it all. It wasn't cool if you acted interested. When you're 12,13,14 yrs old, being cool was your bread and butter! So I kept it hidden to everyone else in my life, when I left church, I didn't bring church with me. I didn't talk about going to church, I didn't talk about faith or quote the Bible, I just didn't let on that I went to church. Only the people AT church, knew it.

In 7th grade, I was saved. I talk about it here I can honestly tell you, back then, as strong as I felt about it, even though I didn't know all I know now (and let me tell you, I don't know THAT much now) I felt called to give my life to Jesus. I just didn't really know what that meant. Not the full extent anyway. I just knew that it seemed like the right thing to do. It seemed I SHOULD go to church, because going to church meant I was a good person. It meant people would see me as a Christian. Which was a moot point, since no one else knew I went to church, except the other people AT church. How very naive I was.

As an adult, I see things through much clearer eyes. I understand more now at 36, than I did at 12. What I still don't understand is, why I feel, sometimes,almost embarrassed to stand out and stand up and say how I feel about God. Why? Why do I care if someone will think "Oh GREAT! A "Bible thumper" because in reality, that's their thorn, not mine. Why do I care what people think of me, being a woman of faith? I am not ashamed to say I go to church. I am not ashamed to talk to my kids or my husband about my faith. It's everyone else "out there" who might think it's "not cool" to be a Christian. Or to believe. Everyone seems to have a stigma about praising God, or reciting Bible verses. In my heart, I can honestly say, I have a very strong faith, it waivers at times. Some times I don't make the BEST choices, I don't always follow the bumper sticker mentality.. WWJD. However, I can say, in my heart, I TRY very hard to live my life, in a way I can walk with my head up high. Sometimes I falter. That's ok. I give myself a break when I do. No one is perfect, no one.

What I believe is important to me. Having my kids raised in the truth and in the Word, are very important to me. If it's not popular, or if I get looked down on for it, that's ok. I want my kids to hold their heads up high, and walk into a room and KNOW, they are a child of God. I want them to be so full of faith, they are more concerned about following the ways of God, than following the ways of their peers. I want my kids to feel so confident in themselves, that if they lose friends, or don't get into the so called popular crowd, that they don't care. I want them to have the kind of character that will sustain them, even when it's tough.

I'm going to make a conscious effort now, to be proud of my faith. To be proud of my belief, and not worry about what others might think. I'm not proud of how I have felt in the past about sharing that side of me, I'm not proud to say, I've been embarrassed to be seen as a Christian, because now, it's time for me to forgive myself, and ask God to forgive me for that and move forward. Because what matters to me, is being the kind of person who lives the kind of life, that others will look at and see, being a Christian, is something to be proud of. Because I am proud of it. I'm proud to say, when I am so moved, I raise my hands in worship. Sometimes, I am so moved, I cry during worship, sometimes, I cry during the sermon, because it moves me so much. Sometimes I do feel, my pastor wrote his sermon for ME. Why should there be shame in that? Does it make me weak? Does it make me a loser? I don't believe it does. I'm not really concerned anymore, if someone else might think it makes me either of those things. If you're not going to be my friend, or talk to me, or acknowledge me BECAUSE of my faith and belief, then I suppose I am better off.

I am facing forward and remembering who I am, and WHO's I am. I belong to this world just like everyone else. I'm proud to be known as a Christian. I WILL quote the Bible once in awhile, I WILL sing worship songs out loud in Target if I am so moved, and I will fall to my knees in praise.

I am going to live my life with a purpose. I'm going to set myself free and reach down inside myself and pull on my faith to see me through the hard places in my journey.

Our pastor spoke tonight about character, and what convicts us. HE spoke of people who are SO outspoken about something. People that point their finger at someone else in disgust and shame them for doing or saying, or being something they think that person shouldn't be. If you peel back the layers of that nay-sayer's character, you see deep inside, they are so passionate about it, because it is the exact thing THEY themselves are struggling with. I know I'm guilty of that. Pointing my finger and loudly convicting someone else of something, I myself am guilty of doing. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it is the truth. What you get the most fired up about, is most likely something you yourself struggle with. That speaks volumes to me. I was so afraid of what other people would say about me if I stood up for my faith, that I would get so fired up at people who didn't do it, wondering where THEIR faith was if they were a so called Christian. In reality, I should have been asking myself that same question. Where is MY faith. I guess it's all about the journey right? This is my cross to bear. One I AM going to overcome. I want to be like Daniel, in the Bible, and stand up to peer pressure. I want to be and do, and behave in a way that maybe others would cringe over, or would make fun of me. I want to look past all of that and do it anyway. That's what Daniel did, right?.

What we believe, will determine how we live.

What you take in, will eventually come out, right? If you let in the bad garbage, you will let bad garbage out. If you surround yourself with good and take in only good, you will let out only good. That's how I want to live, I want to surround myself with good people, and people who aren't perfect, but are holding their heads up high, making their own journey to a strong, unbreakable, unshakable faith. I want to be around people who are proud to be a Christian. I want to hear the Good Word, and hear people's testimonies. I just want to surround myself in light, so that light exudes from me. It won't be easy, I know. I will hit rough patches, I will hit the proverbial, bumps in the road, but if I keep my eyes focused on the big picture, I'm going to be fine.. I will overcome!

So this small town girl is going to shake that feeling of shame, and kick it to the curb. I'm proud of who I am. I'm proud to be a child of God. He's proud of me, even when I mess up, He loves me. He loves me unconditionally, and that makes me VERY blessed.

Truth is knowing your character is shaped by your every day actions.
watch your beliefs, they become thoughts
Watch your thoughts, they become words
Watch your words, they become actions
Watch your actions, they become habits
Watch your habits they become character

Your character, is your legacy.

Vince Lombardi

I am inspired by...

HER

I wanted to share... I NEEDED to share this because I know you will enjoy it, be moved by it, be empowered by it and be strengthened by it like I have. Like a lot of my friends have. There is a back story, I will give you the Readers Digest version.

I've written about them before here

Stephanie(Affectionately known as Nie Nie) and her husband Christian (Affectionately known as Mr. Nielson) were in a plane crash in August of 2008. Both were in a fight for their lives, Nie Nie's sister Courtney(also a beautiful writer with a beautiful faith) kept all of us up to date on their progress, and of her time taking care of Nie nie and Mr. Nielson's beautiful children. A constant note was always present.. their faith in God, and their faith in God the great Physician.

A year has gone by, and Nie Nie is back to blogging, and sharing in her many trials and tribulations and sharing even more, her blessings and faith. She inspires me. I am betting she will inspire you as well.

Please go check out her blog, look at her beautiful pictures and feel, through her, the kind of love and faith I know I wish I had more of at times. There are so many to read, but they're all filled with hope and life and beauty. She is a beautiful soul.

Don't let this stop with you, pass it along, share it with people in your life, who will also be inspired and moved. Keep going back to read, because you will never be sorry! I promise.

Trust and the church and restoration

As it happens sometimes, we lose our direction. I posted something a few days ago that you may or may not have read.. Read it here I was very upset, feeling betrayed by people that I thought were on the same path of Christianity as I am. It was a profound feeling of pain and confusion. I did a lot of praying, because when all else fails.. pray! I did a lot of inner self reflection and where I can say I was a bit more at peace with things.. as much as one can get to a feeling of peace in this type of situation, I just wasn't feeling like I should, or like I did before this whole mini crisis.

So yesterday, I received a phone call from the man who headed up the Walker Beautification project. At first I wasn't sure what to think or feel. I expected a "Hey I'm really sorry about your clippers, better luck next year" which I would have appreciated, don't get me wrong. I would have seen that as someone reaching out and saying they heard me and it was all going to be okay. However, that wasn't what happened at all. He explained the situation, that it wasn't just the church and various football players and wrestlers from the high school, as I had first stated, it was also a lot of people from the community, specifically, the community we were helping out. People who are in need, and hungry and desperate. He said it's more likely it was one of them that took the clippers. After hearing that it did seem more likely that was the case. Frankly, if it was someone who was in need, I don't feel as bad about losing the tool. I hope it is something they needed and will use to make something beautiful in their yard. Or maybe they will sell it for money to buy food, or milk for their baby. I pray whatever the reason, it is pure.

I feel better about this whole ordeal because, although my walk with God hadn't faltered, my faith in my fellow Christians had. It was a lonely, sad feeling I must admit. I have said it before, and I will say it again and again, our church really is a phenomenal place. Our pastor, is amazing, and I really had a difficult time swallowing the idea, that there were people there that I wasn't going to be able to trust, or look in the eye. It was something i struggled with because in a world where I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, inside those doors, within the walls of that church, I felt like I belonged and wasn't judged. The thought of leaving that behind was a scary one for me. It took me way too long to get back into church... we spent 5 years not going, not serving. When we moved to West Salem last March, and found West Salem Foursquare Church, we felt like we had found home. The instant feeling of acceptance and love and peace and comfort, were all there the second we walked through the doors. We haven't turned back since. I didn't want to.. I don't want to.

I feared I would though, I feared that whole incident was going to drive me away from there. Even though I knew in my heart of hearts, that was what the enemy wanted, it wouldn't have stopped me, because my heart would have been turned against it.

The good news is, it's all fixed.. my heart is healed, my spirit renewed, and this whole process makes me want to get more involved with the Dream Center, more involved with those in need. It doesn't make me feel ill towards them, it makes me more determined to help out. Maybe I will be able to answer phones or something at the new medical center or maybe I will pass out clothes and food.. whatever it is Lord.. bring it to me, I'm ready!

Trust and the church..

So yesterday, our church headed up a beautification day at a local middle school. We have sort of adopted the school. Our youth pastors go and minister to the kids, have lunch with them, that sort of thing and yesterday was part of our duties as a church. There were over 200 of us, lots of people from the church, but also football players and wrestlers from the high school. It was really a beautiful event, helping out the community, side by side with people who share a faith in God and all that is right and loving.

Granted, the kids complained, I expected that. It was hot and as Josh put it.. borrrrrrrrrringggg. However, they all really did help for the most part. Briana, who is 6, really did her part by keeping all the roly poly bugs or as we call them, potato bugs, out of the way for me as I dug out weeds. She really played the part of insect conservationist.

We were told to bring our own gardening tools, which makes total sense. We were told to mark them with our names so they didn't get lost. So we did. I threw in a pair of old hand clippers, with long wooden handles.. really my favorite tool, aside from my super cool chain saw, but I didn't bring that. No, I brought the long handled clippers because I knew there would be a lot of bush-whacking and trimming going on.

We weren't there long when finally found a place to throw down our tools and get to weeding. As Warren and I were working, apparently someone came by and grabbed the clippers and said, I'm borrowing these, and took off. Our oldest, Austin didn't say anything at first, he wasn't sure what to say to the guy, which I didn't expect him to. When Austin finally told us, the guy was long gone. Warren and Austin went looking for the guy right after that and Warren thinks he saw the guy, but wasn't exactly sure, and so didn't go up to him. However, he figured the guy would bring them back, after all.

Fast forward a few hours. During which we scouted the entire grounds for the clippers and to no avail. We told several people what happened and they all told us to wait until the end, because everyone puts all the tools in a pile, if they have someone elses tools, they just put them into a big pile and you can go check it out and find them. Ok Cool, I was no longer worried. At the end we were sitting down and I was keeping watch over said, tool pile, and never saw them placed there. We all kept walking by the pile and checking and rechecking. They just never turned up. So Warren again found the guy from our church who was the lead guy on the beautification project, and he told Warren, he was going to do another run through the property and take anything he finds, to the church and leave it in the lobby. Well we left, figuring he'd find them, or someone who took them would bring them to the church, once they discovered they had someone elses tool.

Neither of those situations happened. Our tool wasn't found, or brought to the church. Whoever walked off with them, didn't borrow them, they took them. I can only hope, the guy brings them to church today, because really, not everyone goes to church on Saturday nights, so maybe he'll come today with the clippers.. I still have hope.

These are people I sit side by side and pray with. People who look me in the eye every week and smile and say hello. Maybe I'm crazy, but I thought a church was a place you can go and feel safe. Maybe I'm naive in thinking everyone there, within those walls and under the roof, should be like family. A safe place to go. A place you can go and join hands with and pray with, worship with, grow with. how then is it possible, if that is what it means to be a church family, that someone can willingly take something, not ASK to borrow, but TELL, and then not bring back. Our name is written in red sharpie on the handles. It isn't like they don't know. I want to be able to trust that when I walk through those double doors, everyone in there is someone I CAN look in the eyes and everyone there is someone, who I can count on in a time of need. Seriously, it isn't about the actual tool, I mean, yeah I loved those things.. they were my go to tool, I used them ALL the time, no, it isn't about the tool, that is a material thing. What I feel was stolen from me, really, was my trust and my faith that, at least in church.. at least those people in church, are people I can turn to, no matter what and ask anything of. I feel very burned, I feel let down. I feel sad. This is a church where I really felt a part of, like we were a community within the church. Now, it will be hard to go back and look them in the eyes. Because really, I have no idea who has them. Don't get me wrong, there are a handful of people I KNOW their heart, I KNOW I can look in the eye, people I DO trust. But I want to be able to look everyone in the eye. The world is a dark place. I get that everyone sins, everyone has a side of them that they aren't proud of, but I thought.. I hoped.. at church, THOSE were the only people I knew I could count on. Those were the people, hands to God during worship, who's voices called out with mine every week, Amen. Trust builds, faith builds.. but now.. it has been taken away.

Maybe this is a good lesson for me, a lesson I don't want to be true.. That you just can't trust anyone, anywhere. I don't want to feel this way.

My faith in God is unshaken, maybe I just need to hold to that.

I still have hope..

...

An update
Warren was at church this morning, running slides for the services and said the clippers did not turn up. I really don't know what to make of this. Trust is a huge deal to me, I have had people lose my trust, and in turn, I walked away and never looked back. I don't want to do this with our church, but how can I go there every week, volunteer my time and raise my children under their morals and values, when I feel so betrayed. I cannot say I feel betrayed by the entire church, that is ridiculous, but I do feel betrayed. We took time out on a Saturday to join our church in helping the community and we were burned in the process. What makes me want to continue to help? My heart as a Christian tells me to forgive and move forward. I should, I know. I am finding it difficult at this point because I cannot go to church now and look at people and see them look me in the eye, or stand next to them during the service, hold their hand, hug them, shake their hand, as our pastor sometimes has us do(we are a community, we are a family right? Why wouldn't we hug each other and reach out a hand to say hello?)I can't just do this with an open heart because what if I am looking into the eyes of the person who stole from us? I know what some of you are thinking, that's part of being a Christian, you forgive, it's what Jesus would do. I just find it very difficult right now and I suppose it is something I need to pray about. I just have a bad taste in my mouth about it. I don't feel like we are supported or that anyone is going to be held accountable. Maybe it isn't up to the church to hold that person accountable. Maybe he will be convicted for being dishonest. Maybe he will ask God for forgiveness. I hope he does. I pray he is forgiven.

I just wish I could feel better about this, I am sure I will get there eventually. I mean, as I said.. this isn't about the tool, it's about the trust that was broken, the betrayal I feel as a member of this church. I don't know that this will just go away. I hope it does, I hope I can pray it away or reason it away, but it doesn't seem likely. The church is a place where I want to go and be able to leave my troubles and mistrusts of the world behind, and be surrounded by people I know and trust. If you can't get that at church...

I want to say again, this feeling about the church doesn't extend to everyone within our church, I know there ARE a few people there I can turn to and know who they are, and that I can trust them, but the ones I don't feel that way about, far outweigh those that I do.

I will keep praying..

Safe at home and some Music Monday

It is said, that when you are married, the chase it over. The fun stops. You have him and he has you.. there is no more need to try to impress each other. To a point, I believe this. I think you can stop pretending you love that sports team, or that rock band. But you should never stop trying to make the other person smile, or laugh or feel wanted and needed.

I was watching one of "my shows" this morning and it really made me think. In this particular episode, the wife was having issues with her husband and going to the park with their baby to sit and talk to a single dad who brings his child to the same park. She told her sister he makes her feel beautiful and funny and wanted. He made her feel listened to. A part of her understood how this was wrong and went against her vows and against the sanctity of their marriage, but her innate need to feel needed and to feel like she mattered, over powered that part of her that screamed "No! Don't do it!"

As women(YES I'm going to go out on a limb and speak for all women, even those who's Tarzan is actually Jane, women are women.. ) we have a need, I suppose, to feel like we are not only beautiful and sexy, but that we are also heard. That when we have an issue or something neat to tell you, that you aren't just fake listening. We want to know that even though, we see each other day in and day out, that the sight of us just makes you smile. We want to know that we matter in your day to day, we need to know that when we're home all day with the kids, knee deep in laundry and baby poop and up to our eyeballs in and we cannot stand to hear it one more time.. the word "MOM!" Or when we've been face to face with angry bosses and back stabbing co-workers,we want to know when you come through that door, the first thing you want to see is our face.

We also want to know, you would fight for us. That even if we screw up, you are still going to come to our rescue and you are going to stare down whomever or whatever is standing in your way and say " I will fight with all my power to save my marriage" We want to know you will fight for us, that you won't roll over and say "whatever" we want to know that no matter what, you will come after us when we try to run away and take us in your arms and tell us everything is going to be okay, even when you don't honestly know how long it's going to take before it is truly okay. We want to know you aren't going to throw in the towel, give up the fight.

As human beings, we all have this same need. We seek comfort and when we stop feeling it, we keep looking. Maybe in a best friend, maybe in an online forum or chat room, or maybe with that single parent at the park who looks you in the eyes when you are speaking to them and who tells you, everything is going to be ok. We just need to know that. Maybe it's isn't fair to say it's a woman thing. Truth be told, women want to be rescued. We want a knight, we want a soldier, a man in control of the issues, in control of what is happening. We want someone to be our rock. When times are tough we want to be able to crumble and be scared and have our significant other, come in swinging in on his rope like Tarzan to scoop us up and take care of us, and tell us, nothing is going to hurt you, nothing is going to make me stop loving you. Nothing is going to tear us apart. We want to hear the Might Mouse theme song playing in the background as our man comes to our rescue, either mentally or physically. It doesn't mean we're weak, or that we lack something in us to be in control and take care of business. Because, anyone who has a mom in their life, sees how tough we women can be. It's just that we don't always want to be the strong one. We want someone who will come in and take control and take care of us, instead of us always having to be the one to take care of everyone else.


My favorite line from the show today was from a clip for next week's show.. he said " I will do everything in my power to save my marriage... and I have a LOT of power" RAWR!

'nuff said


AND

Because it's also Music Monday, I'm going to post this song, because it is one of my favorites

Smashing Pumpkins- Luna

B is for Birthday,,,

It's happening. I'm turning another year older, in less than 24 hours. What does this mean for me? Really, not much. It's not a milestone of any sort. It isn't the BIG 4-0 or anything. However, this year I'm going to make it about change. No, I'm not Obama, I'm just wanting something to change in my life, and from what I hear, change starts, with me. So here are some things that I want to change, or things that I will learn in this next year of life.

I will start off with my weight, because it's the most obvious and biggest obstacle. I'm sick of being the fat one. I'm sick of being the fat mom, the fat sister, the fat wife.. you get the picture. I'm ashamed of how I look, I feel sick to my stomach every time I look in a mirror. I understand God loves me no matter what, what matters is what's inside, blah blah. Warren loves me, no matter what size I am. He sees who I am, regardless of what the scale says. I am truly blessed in that capacity. My kids love me, this I know. They do not judge me. Though, I am embarrassed for them, when their friends see me, I'm afraid sooner or later, if it hasn't happened already, their friends will make fun of THEM for having a fat mom. I do not want that for my kids. The reason I want to lose weight has a lot to do with HOW I became this way in the first place. Confused? Let me explain.

I can remember a time in my life, between the ages of 13-15 when I would look at myself, and see an obese girl. I felt fat. I struggled with food, I struggled with how I looked. When I was 15, I weighed a whopping 111lbs. I have pictures of myself where you can see my collar bone. I still saw fat. I wore baggy clothes, and felt and looked frumpy. Looking back at myself in high school, I was the definition of frump. I didn't feel thin, although I know I was. I didn't feel good about what I looked like. I related how I felt inside, with how I felt outside. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I suppose that is normal for a teenage girl, it's not easy to feel good about what you look like, when you only see negatives. I only saw a fat, frumpy girl.

At 15, I was introduced to a 19 year old guy who would become my boyfriend. He was in fact, very cruel, and physically abusive.. at 15, I was raped. It isn't something I speak about a lot, mostly because I know it makes my family uncomfortable. It makes most people uncomfortable. The reason I'm bringing it up now, is simply to state my case.

At 15, being in that relationship destroyed what I had left of my already lacking, self esteem. I was never the same after that relationship ended. It is something I carried for many years, something I hid, something I was ashamed of, and in turn, it introduced me to the fine art of "emotional eating." This little treasure served me well. It was certainly easier to eat and feel better, than it was to speak up about what happened. For a long time I was scared to mention it to anyone, because I was afraid of people's reactions.

After four pregnancies, depression and more weight gain, I just lost who I was. Inside, I am a skinny girl with a bubbly, outgoing personality. It's the outside me, that keeps the inside me at bay. I've become afraid of being in large crowds, I hate meeting new people. I've become somewhat of a shut in. That isn't to say I never go anywhere, because I do, but mostly just to places no one knows me(grocery store,that sort of thing) unless it's family. I'm terrified of running into someone from my past. I walk with my head down, and praying that no one recognizes me. I'm always positive everyone around me, people I know, and people I don't know, are looking at me in disgust.. I would!

But..

This year.. as I turn 36, I've decided I'm taking ME back. I'm going to shed this disguise of weight and anguish. I'm going to stop believing the worst of myself. I'm going to reach outside my comfort zone as often as I can. I am finally going to conquer this.. I will.. I will! I will express how I feel, even when I feel like no one is listening.

As for the rest of the list of things I'm going to change this year;

I'm going to be more patient.

I'm going to practice listening more.

I'm going to think before I speak.

I'm going to take my dog for long walks.

I'm going to walk my children to and from school, weather permitting.

I'm going to be a better wife, a better mom, a better Christian.

I'm going to keep smiling at strangers, even when they don't return it.

I'm going to ask for help when I need it, and not feel like a failure BECAUSE I ask.

I'm going to teach my kids how to cook and enjoy it!

I'm going to try at least one new recipe a month AND blog about it

I'm going to take more pictures

I'm going to learn at least one new thing this year.

I'm going to have more fun with my family.

I'm going to make and achieve goals

I'm going to take baby steps and look before I leap

I'm going to start writing more

This is the year of change for me. This time next year, I will be half the woman physically, but twice the woman mentally and emotionally.

This is going to happen, and I'm excited for it.

And just for fun, I'm going to cram in my Music Monday choice.. My reason behind it.. I just love the song and I used to listen to it ALL the time as a child! So I hope you do too. The quality isn't great, but that's because it's OLD :)

Just Another Music Monday..

I'm copying Stef.. because she likes it when people copy cat her :)

So.. my music choice for today, is something I actually heard and saw at church this past Saturday night. Our pastor played her video during his sermon on Unfailing Love. He taught us Two key characteristics of the Love of God.

An Unfailing Love that DEFIES the norm

and

An Unfailing Love that DEFINES us

What I learned was, we as human beings have the ability to love each other as God loves us. Maybe it won't be easy for us.. it definitely won't be easy, but it IS possible. Why? Because we are made in His own image.. Genesis 1:26-27

So then why can we not love like God?

I was speaking with someone today about how mankind has turned it's backs on the elderly. I was brought back to a story I heard this winter, about a WW2 Veteran who froze to death in his home, because he didn't pay his electric bill and the electric company shut off his electricity. He froze to death. This man fought for us, for our freedom.. he put himself in harms way, risked his life and only God knows what he saw, but he did it because he believed in his country, he loved.. his country. How do we repay him? Letting him die alone and cold in his home. Where is the love of our people?

If someone upsets you, makes you angry, hurts your feelings, betrays you.. do you just shut them out and never speak to them again? If the answer is yes, I am going to pray for you. If your answer is no, I am going to pray for you anyway, because it takes a strong faith and a strong character to forgive and to "love anyway" I understand it is difficult to look someone in the eyes, who has hurt you, and say, I choose to forgive you AND I choose to love you anyway.

Loving someone in spite of what they have done, is a huge thing. It isn't easy, it isn't meant to be. We aren't God. I watched The Passion For Christ, and wept when Jesus looked up and said, "Father forgive them for they know not what they do" He forgave them, he loved them anyway. He was beaten and bloodied and weak and in a kind of pain I pray no one ever has to feel. Yet, He forgave. He loved.

So why can you not forgive and love the person who made you angry?

Why can you not forgive and love the person who betrayed you?

Why can you not forgive the person you have known your entire life.. saw each other through so many of life's ups and downs.. and that maybe didn't do exactly what you wanted, or needed of them at any particular time.. why can you not forgive?

I know it isn't easy, I know that it is going to take a lot of "do-overs" but God forgives us when we fail.. when we forsake him.. when we sin. We are forgiven.

He loves us.. Oh how he loves us..
We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.
So Heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss,
And the heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don’t have time to maintain this regrets,
When I think about, the way

I challenge each of you to look inside yourself and find the kind of love God gives us.. is it there? Do you think you can find it? I challenge you today, even if it's just inside yourself, maybe it's YOU who needs to love YOU.. whomever, whatever, love anyway

Here is my song..