Faith

 Faithless...

I struggle...daily.... I hear the stories of my friends in their quiet time and their worship time and my skin prickles with angst and callousness. I used to be that person...I loved that time in the morning...sometimes I wonder if I’m lying to myself that it’s so hard to get up that early and get going and having some prayer journal time...because my body is failing me... and then other times i remember this truly is my reality. I feel like my faith is waning. 

But I also have to say I feel like it’s fake when i hear the word ‘faithful’ ... ‘he lived a faithful life’ or ‘she is so faithful’ or ‘journey of the faithful’ ... it’s laced and dripping with lies...because no way no how can we keep up the journey without faltering...we are broken and unbelieving and we struggle with the stumbling and that is a lack of faith. I’m just trying to be real. 

I sat tonight watching my 94 year old grandma crying in her sleep and yelling because she’s in so much pain. She can’t vocalize her words and say what’s wrong...and the only name she says is ‘mama’ which is my mom...her daughter...and she cries for her. My mother wraps her arms around her mother and whispers...’it’s okay I’m right here...just rest’ and my grandma..with the thin..see through skin and the thin hair and eyes that will barely open...she calms down... i see it unfold and i think...why? What is it all for? I am cynical...I am on shaky ground...and I need You Father to steady me....fill my doubts with your peace...

I honestly think it takes more guts to admit to ourselves that our faith is an ebb and flow of struggle. So I’m here admitting it....over the course of the last 14 years I’ve spoken at retreats and conferences and I’ve taught Bible studies and I’m landing on the pages of ... I did that and I don’t know why because honestly I didn’t really know much. 

Faith as small as a mustard seed..that’s what He said... so why do we lie about our faith being so big when all we need is a little...well I can admit I have a little...because He has the rest of it for me. So when I’m crying out because I’m broken and I have nothing left...He can wrap his arms around me and shhhhshhh me to comfort...and i will rest in His arms because He carries all i need. 

Every Dog Needs a Boy...Every Boy Needs a Dog

She was so tiny the first time I picked her up. 3 lb's to be exact. I held her against my chest and something in me snapped. Went haywire. Came loose. An uncontrollable need to just hold her. I don't think it came as a shock to anyone, but it was a sign that I wasn't as 'okay' as we all thought.  The next few weeks were followed with intense counseling called EMDR. It's a form of therapy that helps a person deal with PTSD. Even in the middle of all of it, I could only think about holding her again. There was a physical ache.

I had one last session...crisis averted...we found the trigger and I was going to survive. In place of the anger there was only sadness now. Coping was the important thing. So feeling a bit relieved but no less heart heavy I walked into my kitchen that night and there she was. Sitting under the high chair that should have been for my baby...there she was...and she was good....good for the soul.

The problem was...in my desire to have her...to let her make me feel better...I didn't think about the day I would have to say goodbye to her too. A word from the wise...don't get a puppy to help you grieve the loss of a baby...because someday that puppy will die. And you will be left without your baby and without your puppy. As far as I'm concerned don't even get a plant...plants die too.

Back to the puppy. She was 3 lbs. Exactly the weight of my son when he was born. She went everywhere with me. Eventually I had a baby boy and she couldn't go everywhere with me because frankly carrying a little dog and a baby seat was impossible. She was a trooper though. She was always little and always thought of as a puppy because she never made it over 10 lb. Two bags of sugar. She liked to sleep under the covers where it was hot. Even when we were camping she would get in my sleeping bag and sneak all the way to the bottom by my feet. Sometimes at night I would find her wedged between the edge of the mattress and the sheet under all the covers. She obviously required very little air. But she loved heat. She could get closer to any fireplace and stare right into the fire and just get hot. It was bizarre. She thrived on the warmth. She was sweet and tender and she was mine to cuddle when I was sad...but she was getting sick. Three times I had her at the vet and they said to get ready...three times I said I just couldn't. She was my link to a boy I wasn't able to hold. The worse she became the more I tried to prepare myself but nothing worked. The reality sucked. It just sucks.

As I sipped my coffee yesterday morning and listened to her trying to breath I knew we had less than 24 hours. Quietly I asked my Father what was I thinking asking for a puppy to help me with that stage...This was too hard. Quietly I heard the voice of my Father tell me every boy needs a dog...and Isaac was ready to take over. I wept.

That is the ONLY thing that got me thru last night. As she was drowning from fluid in her lungs and around her heart, as I held the oxygen to her mouth and said goodbye, I knew my boy was waiting to take her. They are 11. Every boy needs a dog. Every dog needs a boy.

I love you Tessa. I will miss you so much. Thank you for filling a hole in my heart bigger than Texas with your tiny love and peaceful presence. You were and always have been good for my soul.

Where Anger Waits

It was March 16th 2016. I was scrolling thru Facebook and randomly followed a link that led me to a page that led me to another page...I sat on my bed and hit share to raise awareness of National Trisomy 18 Awareness day. Over the years I had randomly realized what day it was only on accident and this time was no different...except it was. This time as I clicked to close out the page the border caught my eye. In a glimpse I noticed faces of babies AND children. It gnawed at me. I spent a few minutes walking around my room pushing the images away until I couldn't take it anymore. As I sat back down and opened Google I replayed all the information we had about Trisomy 18 and what we learned when our baby was not yet here. I knew statistically 1 in every 2000 pregnancy results in a baby with Trisomy 18 but most end in miscarriage. I knew statistically we had a minimal chance of carrying to term (we carried to 39 weeks), I knew if he was under 4lbs when he was delivered he would live for a very short time if at all. I knew if he was over 4 lbs his chances of survival for more than an hour increased drastically. I knew the insurance viewed his life as 'non-viable' and would only call hospice in if he did live but would not do anything else for him...as he would not thrive. I knew the only place he was safe was inside me. That is what I knew. Isaac was exactly 3 lb when he was born.

As I typed the words into the search box my spirit warned me...I could feel the anger rise before I even had all the information but something seemed wrong.  I needed to know more...were these pictures of children living with Trisomy 18?

Hours later...article after article read...information on panels of medical professionals for and against trying to save these babies with Trisomy 18...the heart surgery...developed in 2003... 2003, 4 years before our little warrior...the insurance on the definition of life...I was unraveling. I have unraveled. Anger shot from the core of my being. I damn near threw my laptop across the room. I had conversations with people who knew us...who know me...and it was too big. After days I stabilized my emotions with a keen awareness that if I didn't I would end up in an institution. My anger would drown me. My emotions were a black hole. They have been a black hole. I have been cautious to feel anything...yes you read that right...feeling any of this is painful and if I let go..I go down the rabbit hole of sorrow and affliction...I don't quite think I can handle all of it yet. We don't talk about it. I don't talk about it. Church was/is not a place for peace...it has not been a place for peace. Some might say I'm hiding but realistically I'm surviving so that I don't lose myself for the sake of living. This does not mean I am without faith. Quite the contrary...my faith is even more real...the relationship with my Father seems even more real now that it is strained...but like any relationship that goes thru hard times I know I don't want to stay here. I don't want to be so hardened that I miss the intent of it. But that is my problem...what good could possibly have come from us not having been given the truth?...I just need someone to tell me he wasn't a viable candidate...or better yet someone to have at least given me the courtesy of a decision...but that was taken from us...from me.

I can barely write about it...This is going to take time. This is not a...lets have a come to Jesus meeting and all of a sudden you're okay...people desire faith to be that way...we want a shotgun solution to so much of life...people say it's not what you're dealing with it's HOW you deal with it...I say BS...sometimes it IS what you're dealing with. Perspective helps but sometimes we want our hearts and lives fixed with a magic wand...or a magical moment...and it just doesn't work that way.

So that's it...I've had every argument about it possible with myself....I already know God has us...I already know His involvement or lack of will someday make sense... I ALREADY know if Isaac was here my other baby may not be...I GET IT ALL...but it doesn't change the reality for me that I was not told about it. So maybe this is the first step to my healing...I started this newer blog to get away from the other one...something more positive...but in all reality...it's all part of who I am....who I am becoming....the continued story of Gods path for me. 

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. 1 Pet 5:6-7

Liberty and Justice...for ALL

Now...before you judge my words...you have to commit to reading this to the end...or don't read it at all. Please.

I've kept silent on this whole NFL thing because I see both sides...I really do...but I believe that what the Cowboys did last night was tasteful and the way to do it. Now stop...you think it's just because I'm a fan that I'm thinking this way and you're wrong...I've thought a LOT about this. They knelt in solidarity to support the issues but stood for those who fight to give them that freedom...what a restrained way to approach it.

I have seen the racial injustice played out in our nation...even in my own sphere by reading words of hate directed at my 2nd daughter who is black but last time i checked the blood coursing thru our veins sure as hell is the same color. I've sat in restaurants and quietly witnessed the looks as we've dined together and have been sickened by the fact that it is 2017 we STILL have a divide when it comes to race. I will NEVER be okay with that...I won't ever understand it...and I will never know how she feels or her mom (who is one of the most loyal kindest friends I've ever had) feels...

To all my white friends....you will NEVER understand what our friends of other races go thru...you just won't...you can not comprehend the hate they deal with...you think the incidents that make them feel targeted are isolated and i can PROMISE you they deal with it DAILY. Don't pretend for a second that you will ever be able to empathize with them...you can't...it's that horrible. It's a scab that gets picked at daily...and it hurts...and it never heals...it's wrong...and the hate even in the smallest gestures is so big and so powerful that even a sideways look in a grocery line reveals the true beliefs of a persons heart...ugly....wrong....

So here's the thing...we should protest...we should all be taking a knee....holding up signs....boycotting..use your freedom to fight for what is right...BUT RESPECT those who fought and ARE fighting for you to have that freedom...by standing under the flag that unites us.

Finally...for this nation so divided...
Kneel in support of racial injustice....and pray for a change and ask what you can do to make a difference
Kneel for the suffering you cannot and will never understand..and pray for a change and ask what you can do to make a difference
Kneel for the hungry and the homeless in our nation...and pray for a change and ask what you can do to make a difference
Kneel for injustice....and pray for a change and ask what you can do to make a difference
Kneel for the disaster our nation is in....and pray for a change and ask what you can do to make a difference

and don't just kneel for the cross...lay prostrate in honor of it...and beg our Father to change your heart and show you what to do to make a difference...
AND THEN..

GET UP....GET UP and STAND TALL for the ones who gave you the right to kneel when that flag is flying high...STAND TALL for the liberty you've been given for the men and women of color who have fought hard against racism and social injustice...STAND TALL because you are an AMERICAN...and fight to improve on our motto...because we might have liberty but we certainly do not have 'Justice for All'.

Shame on you...

Let's meet a pet peeve of mine: Mr Public Shaming. I conducted an interview with him that I would love to share:

Me: So...Mr. PS, tell me what you're main objective is between parent and child communication?

Mr PS: well Sara, I've always thought it would be super beneficial to make sure a child understands that while a parent is talking to them that everyone around them knows how absolutely disappointed their parent is in them. My goal is downright humiliation and maybe some solid butterflies in the tummy for added affect.

Me: wow. So basically your whole goal is to completely demoralize a child and help them never forget the moment their parent was completely ashamed of them?

Mr. PS: Well yea...I mean I really need parents to do this as much as possible so their child can learn their place in this world as a loser. That way when they grow up they will be able to treat their own kids the same way and just really build in with their parents have taught them. It also helps if they really resent their parents and what they couldn't accomplish and then try to live vicariously thru their kid.  But of course I'll be there to point out the colossal failure their child is at achieving the parents dreams.

Me: do you ever feel sad when you see the look of hurt and agonizing disappointment on the Child's face when they realize what a letdown they are to their mom or dad?

Mr PS: Sara this is just an achievement on my part. The facial recognition I get to see of the pain and humiliation is just proof that my presence is working. I mean, they don't call me Mr. Public Shaming for nothing.

Me: I can understand correcting a child in front of others, especially when they are in danger...is your goal that this only happens when the child has made a decision that could hurt them?

Mr PS: Oh absolutely not, as a matter of fact, the more the picking at ridiculous things the better! The whole goal is to make them really feel the shame in every aspect of their decision making...from how they eat at a restaurant to how they perform in school or sports. Just as long as their are people around to witness the verbal beat down...then I've done my work.


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Listen - I don't need to add all the articles from professionals about public shaming, nor do I need to tell you how many children have committed suicide because of public shaming - COMMITTED SUICIDE PEOPLE.

I've seen it over and over. In the middle of Walmart, eating dinner out with my family, sporting events....you're right...I don't know the circumstances...but sometimes I can get a pretty good clue. You will never reach your child or have a healthy relationship with them by picking them apart in front of other people. You will break them down and they will resent you...and they should. Then they will find healthy parents of their friends to hang out with you and will grow up wishing they had parents that would just listen and talk to them and treat them like human beings. Most of you would never treat a friend the way you treat your kids...yet your children are supposed to be higher on the totem pole. I can almost bet if I troll your FB page you've posted something about anti bullying...well guess what? You're a BULLY!

Be brave enough to break the cycle...you are being abusive. Don't. Just shut up. Just wait till you're in private...and when you are think about what you want to say...or how you want to chastise thing FIRST about the long term goal. Is it to make them better and lift them up? Is it to break habits that are destructive? Or is it to eliminate the embarrassment you think they are to you? In short...don't be an ass to your kids...or someday they will return the favor.

Empty

I'm feeling oddly...like writing...but I'm empty. I wonder if this is how artists feel after a while...they know they can paint or sculpt but they don't know what to paint...or sculpt...or design......talent wasted. I feel like my life is slipping by and the one thing I'm certain I should be doing...I'm not. I sound so egotistical...I have quite possibly misunderstood my writing ability...maybe the majority of people just 'think' they can write...maybe Im in that majority.

I think the biggest thing I struggle with is.....well okay let's be honest I struggle with a LOT but the 2 things I'm wrestling with are..#1. Who cares about my story? Everyone has one...it's like we all need to blow our noses but you don't have to tell me about it...I have one too... what makes anything I have to say about who I am so extraordinary someone needs to read it? #2?  I feel like somewhere, at some point someone expected me to write about Isaac and our story...and very gravely I think...no one needs to write OR read another book about someone losing a baby. Let me be honest...I was given a few books while I was pregnant with my boy and after we lost him...the books were about losing a baby...I never read them. I didn't care about someone else's story...I was living my own. I don't think those are heroic stories...especially knowing the infant mortality rate in third world countries is deplorable....what about those mamas and their stories...? Did you know the infant mortality rate in the US is something like 6 out of every 1000 babies? In Angola is 96 out of every 1000...96 stories over and over and over...who will tell their stories? So why should that be something I write about?

I have nothing...so I sit here with what feels like this pretty little wrapped present with nothing inside. I have nothing to give anyone...

So while I feel like writing and figuring this out, my words slapped on a white screen mean nothing unless I'm being silly and relaying my fight with Mr. PD (the Prarie Dog that resides up the hill) who is very obviously trying to take his life...every time I drive by his little mound.

We all have issues right? I'm a jumbled mess and the real truth is life is in the way and I've been self demoted to a normal, pew warming, TV watching, procrastinating ... person...I'm a member..not a participant right now.. It's a boring...safe...unfeeling place to be. I am sitting in the shallow end of the pool and I have very little use for depth at the moment.  Let me put it this way...I can go deep with other people regarding their stuff...just not mine...not right now. I'm giving myself permission to do that...so don't judge me. Yep...so I have nothing to write about right now. Soon though...it's going to bubble up...and then who knows what will happen?

Broken

I sat and stared at my computer screen in disbelief...so many small faces looking back at me. Through tears and a series of links I had an emotion that I had never experienced come over me..pure...helpless...anger. Disbelief. I felt robbed...violated...duped...

I have been dealing with this for weeks...I can't do anything to change it but I don't know what to do with it which feels worse. As a mom ... if you're a mom ... you know you would do anything for your babies...anything. Most of the time our decisions are based on minor issues .. broken hearts, hurt friendships...a pair of jeans they can't live without...time with a friend that if they don't get it they'll just 'die'... and we bend... and we love and we give. But what if it was life and death...the heights it takes you to emotionally is explosive. 

I sat reading the words over and over and I kept thinking...this is a lie...it can't be true...2004...cardiac surgery...trisomy 18...91% success rate...2004... 2004....no...no not possible. I would have been told...I would have been asked...informed...given options, decisions... something ...maybe close to hope. But I didn't...no one said it. No one told me. ..10 years later and 11 years to the day I found out I was pregnant with him....here I sit broken. I'm so hurt. I'm so hurt that no one thought to give me the chance to make that decision for myself if I would even put him thru it. But no one said anything...

I'm angry. I don't know what to do with it other than to wait...to keep listening to God...to not shut Him out...to hang on with every fiber of my being that He ultimately has this...and I'm not capable of getting it yet. He knows I'm mad. He knows my feelings are broken and that words will not define the chasm that has been created in the history of my heart story. 

So tomorrow we celebrate the resurrection...the son that died to save me...we reflect on Gods sovereignty and His desire for all us to chose Him and accept the grace...my loss doesn't change His sacrifice...but I'm not in a great place...just being honest. It's a bewildering place to be in your heart knowing that the God who saves could allow us not to see the whole picture resulting in devastating moments like these...why? I know a lot of the why's...don't fill in the blanks for me because it doesn't matter... a doctor asked me more times to abort ...to kill my baby...all while holding the information that he could have lived...there are no answers that will fix how I feel right now...but I believe God is the supreme comforter in the midst of the pain He could have prevented ...this sucks....that I have to believe right now that ALL things work together FOR THE GOOD of those who love Him. And I do love Him...but I'm so so hurt. 

Ring it in...rein it in...

2017. It feels uncomfortable. I'm sitting here thinking...pondering...whispers in my heart...why does this feel like this? I think on some level I have this feeling every year. I hate change...now I have to write a new date down and remember...I have to change something in my life and frankly I don't want to and I probably won't...

I want to describe the state of my heart to you. Why? Because I feel misunderstood...if I could close this for comments I would because I don't want the sadness or the pity or perspective..I want honored silence for my hurt...for my loss....

The pressure begins around Christmas Day... it starts when the presents have been opened and the chaos is done and the quiet sets in...the knock on my heart starts and a countdown to the 1st begins. Why? Because after the first comes the 2nd. It's a rumbling in an empty space at first...a foreboding feeling that echos around my heart with no place to land. The feeling gets bigger as the day draws near and you can be certain that in every quiet moment I have I'm thinking about it...I'm thinking about him. Then that thing in my heart that starts as a tiny echo grows till it envelopes my insides causing pressure and suffocation and before I know it December 31st rolls around and I have to prepare myself for the mindless meanderings of people looking toward the year and what it has to offer and my heart is never in it anymore. I don't like resolutions...I've said that before...if you're going to make a change...change it. So the countdown to midnight begins, 10, 9, 8, pour the champagne, 7, 6, 5, hold your glass high..4, 3, 2, 1....happy new year...clink clink...kiss on the lips...hugs from my two babies...smiling...smiling...rush through it...and the thing that started as an echo has completely taken hold of me head to toe...sadness... A decade of sadness.

I watch the revelries....and in my ugliness I think...how can you celebrate something new when he won't be here too? This is a joke I think. I don't want to celebrate...I want to curl up on the chair where I first felt your kicks and I want to hold you there in my belly so safe...so secure...reminder..rein it in...be realistic...you could be no place safer than where you are...and you are...you are so safe...so loved....but I don't want you to be there. I want you to be here...laughing in my hallway and giggling about your birthday being almost here. I want to hear you run through the house so I can yell at you and your brother to settle down. I want the stress of buying presents when I just spent too much on you for Christmas...I want the argument of what theme you want for your party and I want to hear you angry because so many of your friends are gone for Christmas break and they can't make it...I would even take biscuits meltdown that it's not his birthday and he doesn't get presents...I would take it...I WOULD TAKE IT!!!!

We all know that's not how it would have been though. Had you stayed with me...you would not be running...maybe I could have gotten smiles out of you...I fanticize about it and I hold tightly to the reality that you really are where you need to be...but damn does it hurt.

Tomorrow you will be 10. I will have that pain in my chest. I will cry...and I will wish it could be happier...Last year I came up with an idea to help me get through the day and this year I didn't succeed. Timing isn't right yet...I'm not ready.

Maybe in another 10 years...but I have a feeling I will feel the same as I do on January 1st 2027 as I do Jan 1 2017.

Isaac Matthew you took so much of my heart when you left me. I love you son. Happy birthday tomorrow.

Reality

I don't find a lot of time to dwell on my current situation. I love my friends and family for their support...always lifting me up in prayer and telling me they don't know how I do it. Quietly I ask myself the same question...and sometimes I think I'm making this up...this is not my world or my reality...I can't possibly have lived in pain for 7 years now. It's around 2555 days, 61,320 hours of pain...no breaks...

Some days are worse and that is when I factor in the reality of it...so like tonight...when I'm not in my bed and I've searched my house and walked the floors and put the couch into a position I can lay upside down with my feet in the air...that is when I start to think... Man this sucks...

The reality of it is ... I'm taking each breath and each second by the grace of God...I have no choice but to breath in and breath out. I work and focus and love and eat and sleep (when my body will allow it)...I drive kids to school, cook (when I can tolerate standing in the kitchen to make a meal for my family)...I make lunches when my husband doesn't do it... I drive to appointments, field trips...I am room mom and I'm the booster club president...and as I'm writing this I'm realizing this is all a mechanism to keep going and to keep me less focused on the pain. Somehow being so involved helps me feel less alone in it. 

There is no beauty to be held in gritting your teeth and baring it when the end result is you are still suffering.  It's pure, undiluted angst and misery and it is my reality....some days I hate it...most days I try not to think about it...but I will most likely never escape it. 

I am not saying any of this for pity because I am WELL aware how good I have it. I don't have cancer, I have not lost limbs, I can function on medication, I have been blessed in my business, I find comfort in the arms of my man who hasn't left this mess yet and I have children that light up my world with fascinating light. I am so grateful. I am so grateful for the pain. I am so grateful that my reality is this when it could be so much worse. So as I lay here...legs twisted over the top of my couch, listening to the sound of crickets outside and knowing my babies are safe in their beds...I hate that I'm here and I hate my circumstances...but I love so much that I'm right where I am. 

“My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.”Psalm 119:50 NIV

Little Bit of Real...

Wednesday my man and I celebrated 15 years together. I am in awe of people who have made it 20, 30, and an amazing 40+ years. This crap is hard...can I get an amen?! If you're struggling and you just don't know how to get to the next day...don't give up! You can make it...but you need a lot of dedication and a heck of a lot of prayer. I know it's only been 15 years (19 if you're counting our season of dating) but I wanted to share 6 things that have helped us get to this point. As a quick side note, this will have nothing…absolutely NOTHING to do with finances…if you’re having issues with money…there are a million and one resources for you to read and get it straight so I’m not going to focus on that…but I want to be real with you about thing things that help you stay connected and together…so here goes:

6. Set up argument rules – sounds silly, but this works. You have to both agree on them and they have to at least have one rule where you get to take a break if things are getting heated. Don’t be afraid to rest on an argument as long as you have a rule that you won’t just brush it under the rug after emotions have fizzled a little….besides it’s too much clean up if you do brush it off…you should see under my rugs…there’s no room for left over arguments there…

5. Accountability – there are two types of accountability you really need to have. The first is to each other. Have you ever asked your husband how you’re doing as his wife? Or what you could do differently? It sounds like torture and a set up, but if you are willing to take a little criticism, you’ll be surprised at how he changes for you in turn….besides it’s super fun to watch the confused look that comes over them when they think it’s a trick question. You also need friends that tell you when you're being stupid. The ones that always tell you you're right aren't the right people to run to when you're wanting to watch ID discovery to analyze murders that worked...or untraceable poisons…

4. Learn to pray together - This is a hard one. Many of us don’t make it a priority to pray out loud even when we’re alone. It’s intimidating and I know personally…I get caught thinking of what I’m going to say so I don’t sound stupid…BUT…when you do it enough you become comfortable and you lean less on your words and more on what your heart wants to say. I will personally testify that when you approach the throne together, it can diffuse stress and it can settle arguments faster than you can say ‘Amen’. And seriously…don’t be embarrassed to pray in front of each other…for Pete’s sake you’ve seen each other naked…

3. You’re still here… - Know that there will be moments you just flat out don’t like the other person. You will be in bliss one day and wake up the next to snoring and drool and bad breath and think…ugh…do I have to play nice in the sandbox AGAIN today? Give yourself the permission to be in that space…but boundary yourself to keep it TO yourself and not act it out. No one can like one person 100% of the time. It’s just not possible. If you wake up and you know that is the day…then it’s a good day to go for a walk or spend some time alone and pray. Then…while you’re alone…think about the first time you met…or when you finally realized this guy was giving you butterflies. Dwell on the blessing that he is. When you do that, you come out of the ugly much faster.

# 2 (and the longest part of this whole thing)

2– Take one for the team - Yes I know you’re tired. Yes I know you’ve worked just as hard, haven’t had a break, wiped dirty noses and dirty butts, screamed at the guy that cut you off in his flashy car and almost ran over someone with your cart at the grocery store…and now you have to get home and make dinner, help with homework and your husband has barely said hello to you and you crawl in bed…and he rolls over and puts his hand on your back….sound familiar? If you’re like me my first thought is ‘OH HECK NO’… grrrr… but sometimes you have to take one for the team. Why? Because men are different, because without sex, men are cranky, because it is scientifically proven that the more sex you have, the closer you will become, and you may even start enjoying it. I didn’t make that up…a clinical psychologist who specializes in sex therapy did - Andrea M. Macari, PhD did her own research and found out that even bad sex is good sex. This doesn’t mean you should ever be forced, but ladies sometimes we need to change our way of thinking. We all know what Song of Solomon is about…so we know God created sex not just as an avenue for reproduction but also for pleasure. I’m a firm believer that the more sex you have in a marriage the more chemically stable your marriage becomes. Seem crazy? There is article after article about the mental heal benefits of sex. Not only is it a natural anti-depressant, it reduces stress, boosts your immune system….increases your sense of smell…NO JOKE…and the list goes on…you can read it here with every University reference to the study: http://greatist.com/health/health-benefits-of-sex. (clicke the link below). As women we have to stop trying to impose our own thoughts about sex onto our husband…he will never think about sex like you do and thank God for that…we would REALLY struggle with it if our husbands constantly complained about our lack of cuddling…

Personally I believe it’s all a mystery, but I trust God’s provision and part of His provision is how He created us, Man and Woman, and the more we dig into being a unified couple and all that entails, the healthier we become. Which leads me to my #1

1. Phil 4:13 – I can do all things – and that means I can really do all things, forgive all things, survive all things…all things through Him who gives me strength. Christ has to be your foundation. I don’t have all the answers. I haven’t lived through the worst life has to offer, but my man and I have been through the ringer. We’ve used the word divorce, we’ve slammed doors, we’ve separated, we’ve cried over lost friends, we’ve struggled with health scares, we’ve been financially broken, we’ve buried one of our own children, yes…we’ve walked a lot together. Our marriage has been horrible at times, but even a good marriage is hard…one thing though…we did it all without wavering in our belief that there is no making it without our Heavenly Father being in the center of it all. He’s heard our ugliness, brought us out of despair, laughed at us and danced over us and we are only still married because of who He is and who He has called us to be. There will be times when all you have left is your love for Jesus…but if you love him with all you’ve got, He will do the rest. I promise.

So there you have it. 15 years…15 loooonnng years…but I wouldn’t change a thing…and I’d marry him all over again. I hope this brings you some hope and peace today…and don’t forget…romancing your husband only entails you show up with food….naked.

Have a blessed day and Happy Valentines!

Get real

Let's just get real for a minute. People are always talking about the need for authenticity and transparency. We have added these titles to our 'needs list' when it comes to friend shopping or church shopping or in general to different aspects of relationship and somehow in it we've also added ourselves to the seat of judge and jury to determine IF that person/entity is authentic...

Grrrrr. Sick of it. I feel I am a pretty authentic person...and as I'm reflecting on some of my relationships I'm thinking...people are expecting me to do / be something I'm not...and when I'm not...I'm not authentic in their eyes. I'm deemed 'fake'. 

What do I have to say to that? Whatever...

And

My feelings are hurt...why? Because I have been authentic and I have fought for relationships that I thought mattered to both parties only to see...they just don't. 

While I sit licking my wounds wanting to huddle in a corner...vowing never to open my heart again...God is already doing something. He's already planning my future. Some of that may be filled with quiet loneliness where I lament with Him and weep. Some of it though will be filled with new and beautiful people. 

And I... In my authentic self...will continue to put myself out there. Because I don't want to be anyone other than who I am and who He's molding me to be.

But...I'm tired of being left out and left behind and not acknowledged. I'm tired of sitting on the back burner. I'm tired of the phone ringing when the need arises and never hearing it when there's just a hello on the other end. 

I am a wife, mother, caretaker, workaholic, budget writer, cook, accountant, nurse, writer, reader, bill payer, provider, listener, responder, helper, teacher and I'm blessed...

And He's doing something...even now. And I am grateful He hasn't abandoned me. 

 

New Normal

This past three weeks has been filled with Christmas, a New Year, family, memories, food, and hospital visits. 

I've watched my mother hover over her mother as she moans in her sleep. I've wiped away my wet eyes while my grandmother cried in her sleep that she was dying...and we've laughed at her inability to say words ... Don't worry...she laughed at herself first. 

In the most tender and amazing way, I've watched as my mother has listened to her mothers fears and has wrestled with the reality of having to move her to a treatment facility better equipped to help her. This is not an easy move. It will be 3 1/2 hours away. Her neighbor cries every time we see her....she gets the sadness...and then there are other people... 

We use the words: move to the home.. as if it's just something you do...a part of life...its normal. But it doesn't feel normal. It doesn't feel right. My mother said tonight we are transitioning her to a place that can rehabilitate her body but we don't think about the whole of her. She needs someone who will sit with her, pull her out of her shell, take her to the ice cream social that happens on the first floor, take her to church service on Sunday morning, help her find a friend. God please help her find a friend. 

This is no joke. This isn't about putting a woman that can't walk right now in a place where she's just going to live out her days staring out a window...this is my grandmother! She was strong once, and beautiful and ever so slightly OCD...which she proudly passed down to her granddaughters disguised as 'you have to make a bed with clean, unwrinkled, sheets' (and yes I have been known to iron my sheets) and 'when you wipe you fold your toilet paper in a perfect rectangle and then you wipe'...I won't tell you if I still do that or not... She was a perfectionist and she still is. She is still beautiful...and she's frail...and she's afraid. She's not just some old lady in a wheel chair with no mind or desire or heart or hurt or pain or feeling or fears. She is a person. I have to think that so many of our elderly that do check out in the end do so because we don't let them fight for another option. By that I mean we stop engaging them on a personal level that used to be the way we would. We of course can't climb up into their laps as we did when we were little, but we can hold them, kiss them, tell them over and over that we love them...we can ask questions and pull out stories...we can ask them to engage with us and that would cause them to engage their minds and then maybe they wouldn't hide in silence and waste away to speechless hunched over bodies in metal chairs with wheels. We make this new normal an 'oh well' sort of thing and we shrug our shoulders and then we talk loud at our elderly and don't give them much time to respond. 

I'm just saying...The next time you see an elderly person...don't minimize them by looking away...make eye contact...smile...treat them like a person...they are wise, deserving of our contact. It's a new normal. It's a new normal that sucks. 

And by the way...if you're a server at a restaurant...please...please.... PLEASE stop calling older people 'honey' and 'sweetheart'...respect them with your words...they still deserve a yes ma'am and a yes sir. Just because they may look like their five when their eating doesn't mean they are...and they notice when you demean them. So stop. 

You're 9 today!

Happy Birthday my love...we made it through another year missing you and another taking us closer to when we get to see you again. 

What joy you bring to my heart even in your absence...I can't imagine the joy you spread there. 

I love you my 9 year old son. Have a wondrous celebration. 

Mom

Void

some how...some way...writing has been lost to me. I read what other people write in social media, I absorb people's comments and I find I am even more resolved not to put pen to paper....fingers to the keyboard...brain to the script...

It's not that i don't think I have something to say...it's that I don't want to know what someone is going to say back. 

I've read heartfelt stories and testimonies online and gasped at the callous responses of ignorant human beings....had they an ounce of pain of the author...their words would eat away at their core. 

So I sit and think of all the things I want to say, I write in my head, file it away, and it's safe. I can be my own critic...and trust me I am.

And yet...there is something about this time of year...the tree goes up, the lists get written or texted to me (as my 12 year old has done this year...she's edited it 3 times if you would like to know)...we read the lists of my youngest...a 1st grader now and laugh at the innocence and the pure undiluted joy he has, full of selfish desire..what will Santa bring?

...the music...the laughter...

         the memories....

the empty seat..

              the tightening in my chest...

the heaviness...

and like a cancer that never really goes away...there it is... 

the void... 

And then I can't help but open a page that's blank...and words that are scrambled in my brain form and through tears I process it...again. I pray and I ask God if the pain in my chest...that place where his little body has forever left a mark...the weight of the void...will it ever lessen. 

No...I think the answer is no. 

I'm sad. 

There!

I said it. I AM SAD

I used to hate my birthday because it brought so much fear for me and now that fear can't hold a candle to the void I feel this time of year. 

I want to know my almost nine year old son! I want to hear his voice. I want to know what his laugh is like. What color did his hair turn out to be? Is he tone def like his grandpa? Or does he sing like his beautiful sister? What would his interests be now? Football? Soccer? Piano? Writing? 

I'm sure his little brother would drive him nuts but you know what? I bet his little brother would be a happier boy if he was with us...he misses you so...how is that possible? Did you know him first? Have you met your Great Grandpa? He is beautiful isn't he? 

I'm so glad you don't have a void. You are blessed. At home with saints. Loved. Cherished. Protected. 

Most of the time all of these thoughts of what you must be experiencing bring me peace...but during Christmas...that peace is clouded a little. I'm just being honest. The void. It hurts. 

So on Christmas morning we will laugh and celebrate and remember Jesus. We will talk about what to play with next and then dad and I will collapse from exhaustion. And then...8 days later...we will cry...your daddy and me...quietly...privately...

I'll play that day over in my head almost as if ... if I do it long enough...hard enough...i could rewrite history. Desperate wishful thinking. And in the midst of all of it...I hope you hear me every time I say I love you. I hope my words 'i miss you' sound joyful and hopeful. I hope the words meet your ears with that peace only a mama's embrace could have...and I will hold my chest as if to hold you again..just one more time. I love you Isaac. 

Love mom. 

Puppets and Worries

Last night before he went off to bed I grabbed our most recent purchase...a cute squirrel puppet whose name I have already forgotten...and I asked the boy: What are your worries? The boy said: I don't like school. Squirrel said: Boy would you let me take your worries and hold on to them till you come home from school?  The boy nodded and hugged the squirrel and trotted off to bed. 

At 7 am I walked into my room where my little man is nestled under the covers of my bed and I crawled in between the covers and started singing.... you are my sunshine...

At 7:02 the boy stretched and smiled and declared he was ready for the day. 

At 7:15 the boy cried because I had purchased him hot lunch and he didn't know if he would like it...

This is a victory...I can conquer one thing at a time. Moving  f  o  r  w  a  r  d  we will decide on hot lunch together...he will make the decision and I will let him...and he will not be anxious about that one thing. 

Moving   f  o  r  w  a  r  d   we will pull puppets out and make our worries known to them and the animal friends will then make sure the boy knows God will be in charge of the puppets and the worries until the next day. 

small steps...forward.

Fear Forward

Deuteronomy 31:(NIV)

6 Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

I have been paralyzed by fear before..stopped dead in my tracks incapable of moving. I'm afraid now but this time the fear moves me forward. I'm a very visual person and I often paint scenes  in my head of where I feel I'm at...make sense? When we found out about Isaac the first scene in my head was me standing in the middle of a busy street...my life had stopped yet the world around me whizzed by at high speed. No one cared that my world had just dropped out from under me...the world was still busy...thriving...moving toward it's next appointment....and I stood in the middle of it...stoic. The picture I am painting in my mind now is dark. I am in a hallway that is painted black and with each step I take ... and only with that step...is my way illuminated. I am alone. One step at a time...moving forward...in fear and trembling...the Lord my God goes with me. 

We all say it...'If I could take your pain..or....If I could take your sadness...or...If I could be sick for you......

I would...

These days that seem so normal on the outside are agonizing on the inside. I wake up every morning with the expectation that I don't know which side of my six year old I will get...but most certainly I know there will be tears and worry...and I will hold him in my arms and sing: 

you are my sunshine

my only sunshine

you make me happy

when skies are gray..

.....

Eventually he will smile and let go and we will move on to the next thing we have to overcome...and I will undoubtedly whisper 'if I could take it away...I would' but this is part of his story...and there is no taking it away. So I move forward making appointments and phone calls desperately seeking some advice on what is and what isn't normal. When you hear your son tell you he doesn't want to feel like 'this' and every day he wakes up he feels like 'this' and he doesn't want to do it anymore.......and he's 6....he's only 6....fear will move you forward. 

He told me two days ago he didn't want to be cool...he just wanted to be normal. I will help him find normal...one lighted step at a time...and hopefully the scene in my mind will eventually change and I will find the door that opens us up to the light. In the meantime my God will go before me and with me and will even carry me when I can't go anymore...and even though this feels like the loneliest place I've been in a long time...I'm so grateful for His companionship...

Fear   F  O   R   W   A   R   D 

immobile

It happens. This painful moment when you are beckoned forward but your feet don't move. Fear grips your thoughts. The what if's terrify you. But the only way you know what is to come is by moving. Beth Moore once said God has something great on the other side of what broke your heart the most. I'm so scared of my heart breaking again. I'm lost. The more I listen and hear, the more His hands dig in to rip away the pieces He wants to see go, the deeper my heels dig in...

I can't move forward...

Time to be carried.......

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. Is 46:4

fear

  [feer]  Show IPA

noun

1.

a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real orimagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. Synonyms: foreboding, apprehension,consternation, dismay, dread, terror, fright, panic, horror, trepidation, qualm. Antonyms:courage, security, calm, intrepidity.

2.

a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling: an abnormal fear of heights. Synonyms:phobia, aversion; bête noire, bogy, bogey, bugbear. Antonyms: liking, fondness, penchant,predilection.

3.

concern or anxiety; solicitude: a fear for someone's safety.

lost

  [lawst, lost]  Show IPA

adjective

1.

no longer possessed or retained: lost friends.

2.

no longer to be found: lost articles.

3.

having gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place, direction, etc.: lost children.

4.

not used to good purpose, as opportunities, time, or labor; wasted: a lost advantage.

5.

being something that someone has failed to win: a lost prize.

Drama and Cheap Perfume

It's hard to move forward when the past keeps breaking our progress.  

My sweet little one has struggled with friendship for years. I'm hoping she doesn't read this till she's in her 20's so she will never know I've put her junk out there for all the world to read but sometimes it's great when we can learn from other peoples junk...right....(insert cricket noises here)....anyone??

Albeit she is only a child, but she's a complicated one and she's teaching me sooooo....

Listen...it's hard being a kid. Especially when you're a girl and you don't got the 'one' friend. You know what I mean? I certainly do. When I was her age we lived over seas and I left one very best friend in Texas. While our family moved to Belgrade, hers moved to the Philippines and my heart was broken because I no longer had a best friend. For years I agonized over wanting a best friend. I got my feelings hurt a LOT. I was not the cool girl and most of the time my friends quickly showed their true colors when one of my three gorgeous brothers wouldn't pay attention to the 'friend' and all of a sudden...no friend...   

My child is different. When she was in the first grade she agonized over wanting a friend but all the girls wanted to play princess and puppies and no one wanted to play scientist. Fast forward a few years and she decides it's better to avoid girls altogether so she doesn't feel that pain so why not just play football with the boys...ugh. Now picture this...a group of solid boys probably pushing the 4 ft to 5 ft range and most of them 70 to 80 lbs...and in the midst of them a girl. Small. The size of a seven year old (she's 10) weighing in at a whopping 53 lbs. Long blonde hair and not so tall...and she wants to play so bad...and so do the boys...just not with a girl. Desperate for companionship she pushes every day to play and every day she comes home crying....until the one hit that finally forced me to say no. It wasn't just that she was going to get hurt...any parent could see that coming from a mile away...it was that I was saying no to her one outlet to heal some of the wound that was oozing with the pain and infection of loneliness. We both cried. But I had to put my foot down. It was the best decision ever. But it didn't solve the fact we still had a wound to heal. So what now? 

In an effort to push her out of her comfort zone and move her thoughts and cares away from the girls at school we decided a team sport was the way to go. After much prayer and thought we landed right where we needed to be.  For privacy sake I will tell you only that she is on an awesome team but it hasn't been easy. We have had a really rough start and frankly I wasn't sure we would make it as far as we have. Mind you we aren't that deep in but we've sprouted roots so I think were going to stay and grow a bit. Here's the hard part and now I can finally get to where I'm going with this...no matter where you go girls will be girls and drama will follow like a trail of bad perfume. You try so hard not to breath it in but it just permeates and stinks up your life. So what I'm finding is we moms need to remember that not only are we responsible for growing our daughters into mature young ladies, we are also responsible for growing good friends. Are you teaching your daughter what that looks like? When she hears you speak does she hear gossip? Or a prayer and tears for someone you genuinely love and care for? Do her ears absorb ugly talk or are they learning what words of encouragement sound like? It's hard to be a friend when you haven't been given much chance at learning how to be one...it's even harder when your path of friendship is riddled with fragmented high school nightmares that continue to mark our trail. 

I have had an opportunity to watch three distinct group of girls and their parents interact over the last few weeks. I have been avoided and ignored and you know I'm OK with that because...I have awesome friends....and I don't mind saying I'm a pretty good friend myself. I was treated poorly enough growing up I knew I wanted to always be a good friend. But I've also experienced a lot if life hurt and brokenness that has demanded I be authentic and truthful with those I call friends. They hold me accountable because they KNOW me for real. So not being immediately included is not a threat...but my momma ears and heart are on high alert...why? Because these women that are seemingly too busy with the drama behind the team scene are growing girls...and creating friends...and I'm not sure the medicine is what the doctor ordered for my girl. Here is where it gets even more exciting for me...this is an amazing opportunity for my Bug to see what kind of friend she needs and should be. She can see how god created her heart to love and encourage and give and maybe even be a little infectious with her sweetness and beauty.  And I ... I get to do the same. 

No matter where you are in life there is always someone around you that needs a friend....mind you some if us just have enough and were not looking to add anymore...but I do believe no matter where we are we are called to that place to show F O R W A R D momentum of authenticity and goodness. I may not need more friends but I can be there to show My Bug what real friendship looks like. It's ugly out there girls...we need less drama, less surface and more deep rooted, long lasting, sweet smelling authentic friendships. Ones that don't carry insecurity as their scarves and jealousy as their hats. Friendships that don't have the high school letter jacket in theatrics and broken hearts. 

Let's grow some friends. It won't be easy...but I think we can try!

friend
— noun

a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.
a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.
a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe?