New Adventure

I have a ton of things that I need to be doing.  Cleaning, cooking, mopping, crafting.  Ok, so some things I'd rather be doing and some I need to do.  But I have to capture this moment.  I need to remind myself that emotions will not kill me and it is ok.

Where do I start?  I am overwhelmed with truth, stuff and what lies ahead.

A week ago, we got word that there was a huge push for my husband to move to Ohio for work.  A little less optional than it had been in the past, but still not anything definitive.  Yesterday, we found out that this was no longer optional.  His current position is being eliminated and the only option is to move to Ohio.  Still not having anything in writing, cause that's the point we know it's for real, we have lived in a bit of denial/emotional distance.  Today it got super real!  He met with HR and has details.

Laid out before us now are the details of how life is going to go, according to my husband's company.  They are setting us up with relators in both places.  My husband has to go find us temporary housing. There is a company who will be coming in our house over the next couple months and packing everything we own and moving it to another part of the country.

I'm not joking when I say that this is so overwhelming that I feel dizzy.  In the words of a very dear friend, this just got real y'all.

Surprisingly, I have been the strong one over the past week.  I've been the one pointing my husband to God.  God is over it all.  We will go where He directs and make clear for us.  My husband has been the one devastated and emotional.  

This will be the furthest he has ever been from his family.  My husband needs to feel connected and loved.  Despite my best efforts, I know I am not enough for him.  To leave all he has known his entire life and the area he has lived in for nearly 20 years is gut wrenching for him.  

Not until just now has the emotional side of this hit me.  I've been so matter of fact and certain that God will take care of me here or there, that I haven't let myself think about the emotional side of it.

All my friends are here.  I have some of the best friends ever!  One of them I've known for 15 years, some of them less.  It's taken a long time for me to get close to them and likewise for some of them.  I've lived life with them.  We've loved each other through good, bad, easy and hard.  They are all here.

I have, at best, a strained relationship with my brother and his family.  But, it is all I have in my family.  It's fragile and slowly being rebuilt.  In reality, it will be good for me to have a longer distance between the rest of my estranged family.

We finally found a church that we love!  We have only been there since September, but feel at home.  We feel like a part of family there.  It's something we both have longed for and desparately needed.  Neither one of us are ready to leave it.  

Believe me, I know everything I have been saying to my husband for the past week is true.  What is too big for us is never too big for God.  There is certainly a reason for this.  God has far bigger planned for us than we can even imagine.  

There are so many details though.  Outside of the big things, like the house, the small details seem so huge.

We are creatures of habit.  We've had the same eye doctors/doctors/chiropractor/vet for 15 years.  I've had the same counselor for 7 years.  We've been with the same cell/phone/internet/television provider or some version of it for 15 years.  I buy groceries at a combo of HyVee and Trader Joes.  All those things will have to change.  Some seem so trivial, but they all must change.

I know where everything is here.  I have a routine.  I know who to call depending on the problem I am having.  I know the list of people to contact when I have great news.  

I know the season changes and what to expect.  I know what channel has the most accurate weather forcast and where the best alerts are for bad weather.  I know what day the trash truck comes.  I know where the closest and cheapest gas is located.  I don't have to travel out of town for anything.  

The area we are moving to doesn't have anything comparable.  I've never been there.  I don't know anything.  I know nobody.

Realistically, we will have to drive an hour to get to anything.  I know I will be ok, but what a change we are facing.  

It's so hard for me to take it all in right now.  

A few months ago, I had an anxiety filled breakdown.  Why?  There was nothing wrong.  That was the problem.  Things were about as good as they had ever been.  I was anxious because I was waiting for the world to fall apart.  I was anxious because my natural bent is to not live a life where things stay stable for long.  Well, this isn't the end of the world, but this definitely rocks that stability quite a bit.

I know I will be ok, but I don't know how.  I must keep reminding myself to hang on tight cause this new adventure is happening regardless of what I want or think. 

Tummy Trouble

A couple weeks ago, I had my physical.  The first in probably 7 years with blood work and all.

I was scared.  Why wouldn't I be?

In addition, I had an ultrasound of my abdomen.

My ultrasound showed no stones and no enlargement of the organs.  Yay!  Sort of.  I started a new med for my stomach.  It is working for the most part.  I don't have the pain that I did.  If I miss a pill, I most certainly do have it.  So, I know there is something wrong.  It could be something as simple as an inflammation of my digestive system that will take time to heal.  Needless to say, I am still going through some meds and med changes with a hope of avoiding further and more invasive testing.

The really good news is that the results of my blood were all good or decent.  For someone who is overweight, I can't complain about the direction I am going.  My weight was down 31 lbs and my blood pressure was way down.  My cholesterols could both improve a little.  All other tests were within normal range and show no signs of infection or problems with any major organs.

All in all, I am happy with the results but will have to continue to stay on top of the stomach problems.

I Think I Can

Since I have some spare time, trapped in a town with absolutely nothing to do during freezing rain, I suppose I can blog.  Actually, I must.  I must put on a smile and act like I am happy to be here, therefore I must put my feelings and thoughts somewhere.  Come to think of it, is it possible that frustration and anger can make your head spin?  No?  Maybe?

We are staying for a few days at my in laws.  A funeral brought us back here, but it was my genius that thought it would be wonderful to stay a few days.

The verse "in all things give thanks" has constantly popped into my mind.  Ya know, it's one of those days when it's met with the voice in my head that goes, "yea yea yea, whatever."

I am thankful for the time I am getting to spend with the cutest 3 year old neice.  She has finally warmed up to me and we had a great time jumping on the bed looking at animal books already today.

The funeral was quick but pretty strange.  It was an LDS funeral.  Most of the people speaking didn't know my husband's aunt...weird!  I'm just going to put this out there, the LDS church has some cockamamee ideas about life, works, death and resurrection.  That's probably something for another post.  Holy crap!  So glad that I am not tied up in the craziness of that religion.

Do you know what it's like to be in a house full of people who don't like you or at best tolerate you?  Ugh!  No joke people.  I worked Wednesday night and Thursday morning to pack and cook everything I needed for at least two meals.  Loved doing it.  But when your husband's neice dumps out her massive plate of dessert claiming that chereos would have been better than that nasty stuff, my joy was quickly replaced by self control as my hand wanted to slap her.

Speaking of said neice....She's pregnant.  We aren't supposed to know since she isn't that far along.  However, we did already.  So she had the nerve to complain about her chest getting bigger and no longer being able to buy bras from VS.  She's bustier than me and absolutely wears my size of clothes.  Again, self control had to win out because I was about to tell her that she outgrew VS years ago!

My mother in law, oh my dear mother in law.  She stretches my patience to an nth of what I have left. She doesn't know who I am, nor anybody else.  She's reduced to the equivelant of a child and often acts so.  It's so hard to keep that in mind when you are constantly asked if you want ice cream or if she can go to the bathroom.  Ugh!!!!

Then there is my father in law.  His growing frustration with his wife is making him every bit as difficult to be around.  Seriously, I wonder sometimes when he will snap.  He is grouchy and argumentative.  Good Lord help me when my husband starts to act like him.  He thinks he knows everything and everybody else is stupid.  I understand why my husband struggles with self esteem.

Let's stop at my husband for a minute.  I've stopped to pray for this man several times already today.  He had a wisdom tooth pulled yesterday and is still in pain.  Last night, he caught the snow blower on fire in the garage.  Nobody was hurt and it got put out quickly.  He tripped on the dog getting out of bed this morning, causing him to fall, scratch his hand and totally jack up his neck and back.  While getting the car so that we didn't have to walk on the slick sidewalks, he wiped out and banged up his knee.  Poor guy can't catch a break.

Again, probably more to come on this later, but my husband's boss isn't high on my list either.  We've just now been here for 24 hours and he has called at least twice.  The subject, us moving to Ohio.  He dropped the bomb last night and called before 8 am today to see if we had made a decision.  Hello?  I wanted to crawl through the phone and tell him to piss off.  Twelve hours isn't long enough to make such a huge decision.

My stomach issues still haven't gone away, a follow up to come on that too.  So as I was dealing with some stomach problems this morning, my little dog got protective and "bit" our neice.  That led to a screaming/bawling fit of epic porportions.  My tiny dog has a terrible underbite and can't hardly eat her own food.  She also doesn't jump up as high as the little girl's chin, which is where the mark was. After beating myself up over the dog and wondering if I was going to have to get rid of her, I find out that she had been on the floor and the dog had only scratched her.  Whew!

I am usually all for a good snow storm.  Well around here they don't clean the roads.  We had planned to leave on Saturday, but may very well be stuck until Sunday.  So fun!

So right now, I am giving thanks for the promise that we will eventually get to go home and that eventually, I'll be able to look at this weekend and laugh.  In all things, give thanks.  I think I can, I think I can.  I THINK I CAN!

The Wait

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the outcome, that I forget the process.  That is so true for so much of life.

I hadn't planned to document this until after I have a positive diagnosis and direction, but I don't want to forget the process.

Back in late summer, I noticed that my lactose intolerance had started to get worse.  No big deal.  That is all part of getting older.  I don't even know that it started to bother me so much as I let my diet get a little loose and was indulging in things I normally didn't.

Over the past few months, I went from normal lactose intolerance to flat out rejection.  My body absolutely despised all milk products.  More recently, fattier foods and oils have given me much of the same reaction.

I would have sharp abdominal cramps after eating, bloating and pain that radiated across my body or to my back.  The past few weeks, the pain never really leaves and is usually either mild or severe with no in between.

Last week, I finally went to the doctor.

I am fearful of doctor appointments and procedures.  Understandably so.  Every time the past few years I have prayed alongside a friend for a positive outcome, they have been diagnosed with cancer. My grandma was diagnosed with cancer one week and died the next.  I have a reasonable fear mixed with my own propensity to have irrational fear.

So often, I can self diagnose my simple things with WebMD or some other spawn of satan website.  I say that because I am convinced that the devil himself was over the creation of all websites and doctor shows where the fear of death is given to you over everything from hangnails to bad breath.

After self-diagnosing myself with every sort of cancer possible and infection known to man, a couple people close to me suggested I go to a real professional.

I had a physical with bloodwork on Friday.  My blood pressure was down.  My weight was down 31 lbs.  No fever.  No real concerns except this pain.  Upon physical examination, the doctor found nothing alarming.  Next step, ultrasound and wait for bloodwork results.

This morning, I had my ultrasound.  My goodness.  I definitely hurt worse after having my abdomen pushed and prodded.  I think the tech took approximately 917 pictures of my innards.  And, I am pretty sure that she had me hold my breath for 3/4 of them.  Those numbers might be slightly exaggerated, since I am fairly certain I had a lack of oxygen to my brain and my lips were turning blue.

Seriously though, I am thankful for a dear friend who took me.  It was so comforting to have someone there and offer a distraction at times I would have been anxious.  Of course my husband's company makes him travel on one of the weeks I need him for moral support.

I do have have enough medical background to know that the tech did focus and mark one particular area.  She marked an area that would be in the pancreas, gallbladder and liver area.  The thing that is most logical is gallstones or diseased gallbladder.  In fact, I have asked for everyone to pray for that specifically as I know the route of treatment.

The truth is that it could be any number of things.  I am scared out of my mind and left here alone this  week to mull it all over.

I should get the results with 2-3 days.  I am thankful to not hear from the doctor today.  I am hoping and praying that means it is nothing urgent.  I am also slightly comforted by the fact that the tech was very focused on an area and did not venture off that area.

There are some things that have gone through my head today and even sometimes out of my mouth.

I don't know how people go through these scary medical ordeals without knowing God.  I've done it and can't remember.  Maybe because I thought I was invincible back then.  Without understanding God is in control, I'm sure I would have lost my mind.  I also believe I have been comforted and calmed since last week by those who have been praying for and with me.  How do people do it without that?

Yesterday's sermon was on the sanctity of life, but I found something the pastor said to be pertinent to how I was feeling.  Psalm 139:16 says Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.  There is not one day of my life that is not already accounted for by God.  The day I was born and the day I die is all known to him.  I found comfort in knowing that regardless of what the test results are, the number of my days are not up to me.  I will die the day God has chosen and there is nothing I can do to change that.

Another thing that happened yesterday is that I felt myself, for the first time ever, being led to serve at a crisis pregnancy center.  I have more to say about this.  Since I have struggled with my views on abortion, it is quite a change in me.  A change that can be attributed to nobody but the Holy Spirit.  Again, I was comforted by the idea that there was a future.  Since I can catastrophize things and go to worse case scenario, I hadn't planned anything past this week.  Now why would God place a desire in my heart that is so outside of my normal thoughts if there were no tomorrow?  In the strangest of ways, I found comfort.

Right now, I don't know what's next.  I don't know what is causing the pain in me.  I don't know what the next post about this will contain.  I can tell you right now, I am scared.  Until I hear from the doctor, I think I will be perched on this edge of life.  I hate the wait and yet I don't want to know.  I know I don't want to be in pain, but the worst case scenarios scare me.

To be continued...

New Bible Study

Since October, I have been attending a women's bible study at church.   Going the first time was a difficult and unusual thing for me.   I don't like to go to new places alone and I my past experiences with an evening bible study weren't the greatest.  However, I knew if we were going to find a new church home, we would need to check out all the churches had to offer.

The teaching in my previous bible studies was definitely fine and well thought out.  I'll spare you the details of why I finally stopped going, but I can tell you that over the course of several years I struggled with the environment.  I struggled with the social aspect and feeling as though I was welcome.

Fast-forward to walking into this new bible study....

I had no clue what they were studying, how long they had been studying together and frankly knew nothing about any of these women.   In fact, I only knew about it because one of the ladies had met me the day before at church and invited me.  A complete stranger!

So as I walked in, one lady after another introduced themselves and made sure I was comfortable.  It was overwhelming, but in a good way.  There was no pressure to talk or share or step outside my comfort zone of first night jitters.

Within the first of the two hours, I learned a lot about this group of women.  There were real with one another.  When one struggled to believe or understand the concept being discussed, she said so.  Nobody judged.  In fact, the ladies all embraced the honesty.

During the prayer time, their were both requests for prayer and praises.  The ladies shared tears of the good, the bad and the unknown.

Everyone participated.  It wasn't just one lady teaching or leading with maybe an occasional comment from the crowd.  Each lady added to the discussion.  Younger, older, everyone had something to add.

The thing I saw the most of and what drew me back was the genuine love they shared and poured out for each other.  Let's face it, women, even Christian women, can be caddy and discouraging in their own ways either verbally or through their actions.  I had NEVER been in a group of women that large where there was nothing and I REPEAT NOTHING but love for each other.

The content of the study was prayer.  I got great information and direction for study out of that night along with amazing observations.

I have never been so excited about a bible study.  For a solid week, I think I told every person who would listen how much I had loved my experience and about these women.  In fact, I had one friend who decided she'd join me.

This group has continued to bless me.  Through this painful process of leaving one church and finding a new one, they have prayed me through it.  In fact, they have prayed for my previous church.

Never have I felt pressured by anyone to join the church.  This group of ladies shared some of their experiences with me.  Some encouraged me to work out my issues with the previous church if possible, because they saw how painful the decision was for me.  Whatever direction they suggested I go, one thing was clear....The Lord was pulling me toward them ever so gently and making me feel a part of them.

Finding a group of women like this is an answer to prayer.  I have long needed and desired a group of women like this.  I have been able to fellowship with them at times outside of the weekly bible study and I have appreciated that.

I still remain guarded.  Deeper relationships still scare me with people I have known for such a short time.  I see potential, but my tattered heart needs a lot more mending first.  In the mean time, I am thankful God has put me with this group of women to learn and grow beside.  I am definitely reaping many benefits of meeting so many loving, godly women.

Now if I can just figure out the right balance of old and new friends and how to gracefully grieve what has been lost.

Communion

Sometimes it is difficult for me to know what, if any, parts of my childhood were normal.  I know there must have been times that I was punished for doing the wrong thing.  It is highly likely that in those times, the punishment didn't fit the crime.  Those memories aren't as prevalent as so many others, but I know they happened.

One of the things I hated the worst was being punished for something my brothers had done.  Again, the punishment never fit the crime and we all were keenly aware of that.  It wasn't hard for me brothers to deflect their wrong-doings onto me.  They were boys, just two years apart, so they acted like normal boys as time and life allowed.  

There were a couple times that I remember so specifically.  Once my brothers were playing with hot wheels on the kitchen floor with a plastic track they had gotten for Christmas.  My mom had a collection of antique tea/saucer sets hung on the wall, the wall in which the hot wheels were being launched toward.  I am sure you can see where this is going.  

I heard a crash and walked into the kitchen to find one of the cups shattered all over the floor.  My brothers had split and I was left standing over the broken mess.  My parents totally bought my brothers' story that they were both outside when they heard the glass break and had seen me playing with their toy cars before heading out.  I'd like to add here that this is one of those times that I remember thinking my parents were incredibly stupid.  

Another time, my brothers were playing in the bathroom.  I'm not sure exactly what was going on.  A few years back, I think they said they thought the plunger was fun and so they were trying to clog the toilet on purpose.  They had a great deal of success until a stopwatch got lodged in the toilet, causing the toilet to flood the bathroom.

I wasn't home at the time, but came home to my dad pissed and in the middle of a flooded bathroom.  It took him hours and tearing the toilet out to finally retrieve the stopwatch.  Again, my brothers claimed that I had been playing with the stopwatch in the bathroom and must have flushed it.  

Both times, I received a beating that left me bloody and bruised for days to come.  The emotional scar it left was even bigger.  I was angry.  I resented my brothers.  I had taken a punishment that I didn't deserve and was far worse than I could have imagined.  It was far worse than what any of the crimes had warranted.  I was resentful of my brothers for years.  

Yesterday as I sat listening to my pastor present the elements of communion, these things began to be a very real, very present memory for me.

This was only my third time participating in the Lord's Supper for well over four years.  My previous pastor had a way of presenting communion that made me feel very unworthy of participating.  So, these past few months of really being engaged in church and participating in communion has touched my heart very deeply.

My current pastor doesn't bypass confession/repentance/having your heart right with God.  However, he does focus on the elements.  What they mean.  Why we take them.  The sacrifice.  The gift.  He is much more rounded on his presentation, touching on each of those things and giving us time to reflect on them.

As I did just that yesterday, I found myself extremely emotional.  Each time I do get a little emotional and teary, but yesterday I dropped the alligator tears.

I think that if communion doesn't touch on some emotion for you, then you may not understand it fully or you maybe taking it for granted.  

Christ suffered a brutal death that he didn't deserve.  He paid a hefty price and not for his own crimes.  He was sinless and didn't deserve to suffer the way he did...not at all.  He took it all.  He got what we deserved.  We are sinful and wretched.  But our transgressions are washed away because Christ paid the price with his life.

My goodness, I am in no way comparing my experience to that of Christ.  I do think my past experiences make it even more precious to me that someone would take the punishment for me.  I think my experiences make it easier for me to grasp what Christ did and how he suffered for someone else.

We like to think and say we would give our lives for our loved ones.  The fact is, we don't know if we really would or what that would even look like.  We can look at Christ and know that we are loved so much that he took what we deserved.  We deserve hell for our sinful ways, but we get heaven because a sinless savior died for us...took our place.  

I'm so thankful and blessed to be in a place where participating in communion is an absolute reminder of that.  I'm thankful for a God who is patient with me when it takes me a while to understand.

My Nativity

I'm not going to lie.  I am struggling mightly right now with the holidays and my absence of family.  This time of year is and should be focused on the birth of Christ.  However, when every where you look there is focus on an adored baby, I have a tendency to feel kicked in the gut.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not comparing myself in anyway at all to Jesus.  I am saying, I was the unwanted child.  Born to parents who never have and never will want or love me.  Focused time on a baby, extended periods of time where family is the second most common focus...it all gets to me.

Unfortunately, I don't have my tried and true supports this year.  Those people who remind me that I am so much better off without my parents than with them.  Those loving souls who gently point me back to the love from the Heavenly Father being so much more than even the most loving earthly father ever could be.

I know many christians who put the death and resurrection above the birth of Christ.  Yes, the death and resurrection of Christ are the fulfillment of so many of God's promises and certainly his biggest gift to us.  However, I tend to feel just as enamored by the birth.

Until last Christmas, I had never had a nice or any real nativity set.  The senior couple I love so dearly gave me a nativity for Christmas.  It is an 18 inch set of Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus.  I've left it on display the entire year.  I know, most people put theirs away in January and drag them back out near Christmas.  Not me!

It was absolutely one of the best gifts I have ever gotten from anyone.  Without the birth, the death and resurrection could have never happened.  I know that's simple, but it is.  For me, the nativity is a constant reminder of Jesus' entire life and what his death means for me.

I have often not placed much value in the life of a baby.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not devaluing any children.  I have just often struggled with my warped idea of parents and the place of a child and importance.

Keeping the nativity in front of me all year, constantly reminds me that my earthly view is warped and was deeply damaged by evil.  Just because my parents didn't want me, doesn't mean that nobody did.  God did.  As hard as that is to keep in my heart this time of year, it is true.

The nativity is a reminder for me that Christ was born, so that through Him I can know a Heavenly Father.  So that I can experience what I never believed possible.  So that I can know a love beyond what even a good father could have given.  So that I can eventually be without the pain of not having loving parents brings.

I know all these things to be true.  But my broken little heart has a hard time holding onto them through the pain of the season.  There isn't a day that goes by this month that I don't long for a family and wish away the pain.  During this season of feeling so unwanted, the truth is no match for my tears.

So for now, I'll cry my tears, soothe my broken heart and anxiously wait for the day when the love outweighs it all.

I Tried...

Maybe I am learning a lesson lately in how the plans I have aren't always the way things will be.  I would love to say that these are great lessons.  But the truth is that they are painful and hard.

Last year, my holiday sadness led to a few months of being a hermit and severe depression.  I had a plan this year to avoid it.  I was proactive.  I did everything right so that I could take a huge step in putting the holiday sadness behind me.

Nothing and I mean nothing has worked out.  All the plans have simply gone down the toilet one by one.

Back in May, we made a plan to spend Thanksgiving with my brother and his family.  We had a condo chosen and paid for months in advance and a plan.  For the first time in over six years, I was going to get to spend a major holiday with some of my family.  With tickets to shows and parks already purchased and only a few weeks to go, my brother's family backed out.

I had a fine and lovely holiday spending some much needed time with my husband.  However, I was crushed.  I spent plenty of time that weekend tucking myself away when the emotions hit and the tears couldn't be held back.

Even onto the Christmas holiday, I purposely filled my month with one activity after another.  Again, not even to avoid but to survive in a healthier way.

The first week, I was scheduled to have lunch with a friend and a craft night with my favorite crafty gals.  Both got cancelled.

Later that same week, I got a nice case of flu that put me to bed for several days.  I had scheduled a bunco friends Christmas party at my house.  The next night was our Christmas party with our new Sunday School class.  I literally slept through all of it.

I'd like to take a moment to point out what a wonderful husband I have.  He spent all last week stuck in Ohio.  I mean really stuck.  He had to stay an additional day because of bad weather.  The poor guy finally made it home Saturday evening.  He took care of me, cleaned up the house and a massive mountain of laundry.  Awesome!

That Sunday, we had a full day of plans.  Lunch with a friend and then a trip to see Handel's Messiah followed by a Christmas pagent.  Well, we managed to not be able to sell our tickets to the Messiah.  So we drug our drippy noses and handfuls of cough drops to the symphony.  Yay!  At least one thing on the long list of plans happened.

This weekend, some of us were supposed to have a girl's weekend.  Good ole Mother Nature foiled our plans by giving us a full day of freezing rain and snow.

One disappointment after another and I can no longer hold off the holiday sadness.  It's coming....it's here.  I tried, I really did.  Even I can accept that I at least put forth an effort.

When I put up my Christmas decorations the first week of November, I was ever the optomistic.  I knew this year I'd be able to find a joy in life that had been missing for so long.

I know many of my Christian friends who would argue that celebrating the birth of our Savior is enough to infuse joy into even the most broken heart.  Unfortunately, those same friends haven't been in my shoes.

We will have one and only one very short Christmas celebration with my husband's family.  I know, I should it enjoy it but I don't.  It will be uncomfortable for both of us.  His mom no longer knows who he is and his sibling group is deconstructing with strong personalities.  It has great potential to be more painful for my husband than any holiday past.

Don't even get me started on the gift part of Christmas.  It's one of my love languages, both giving and receiving.  Our big, beautiful tree won't have much under it for us or others.  I'm sad to not have a long list of people to give gifts to and won't even be doing my usual week of baking goodies this year.

A couple months ago, I never thought it would be possible to slide into the holiday sadness two weeks before Christmas.  But that is what happens when I make plans.

I have been so good lately in accepting that when things don't work out the way I want them to, then God must have a better plan.  Ha!  I have even been THAT person with other people lately.  You know...the annoying one that reminds you that there must be a better, bigger plan and that we just need to be excited about it.

Maybe I'll get there again, but not right now.  Every effort I have made to live healthier through this time of year has been for not.  I'm frustrated and disappointed and mad.....but mostly just sad.

A New Place

I have been dragging my feet to write this post.  Not that it isn't good, it is.  However, my husband received a phone call today that kicked me in the tail and made me realize it was time to make note of our continued journey.

We have both been sick.  I had a nasty cold for about two weeks, which I kindly shared with my husband.  At the tail end of the cold, I was hit with the flu.  After being down for almost three weeks, I am finally among the living again.  During that time, Kent has also been traveling and was snowbound an extra day across the country.

Needless to say, we have missed everything.  Holiday parties, plans and church.  When I say we've missed church, I mean we have deeply missed church.  

Even though we walked into another church with hearts completely against staying, the good Lord had other plans for us.  

We came in late and tried to sneak out early.  People still greeted us and made us feel welcome.  As we sat and listened to the preaching, we found ourselves refreshed and absolutely focused on the message.  The message was the 2nd commandment.  After it was over, the pastor made a point to speak to my husband.  

The second week we attended this church was the same.  Then the next and the next.  

One of the things we both have long struggled with at our previous church was how we didn't fit socially.  It took so long to make more than one or two relationships for each of us.  We also struggled with how easy it was to be gone for long periods of time and not be missed.  Maybe that was a product of so few relationships or it being a larger church.  

We both know our biggest draw to a church is and should always be based on it being a place where we can worship God with other like-minded people.  The social part of it is important but definitely comes after worship and spritiual growth.

It didn't take long to find ourselves drawn to the worship and preaching at this church and we found ourselves wanting to know more.  We wanted to know if the "feel" of the church was consistent throughout bible studies and activities.  

I tried two women's bible studies.  Absolutely consistent.  In fact, I have stayed in one faithfully for nearly three months.  I love my bible study buddies.  It is more than a bunch of women studying the bible.  

Seriously, I have never found another large group of women who were so willing to be so real.  The group is 12-18 women and they are so honest and vulnerable and loving.  When they don't agree, they say so but stay open enough to allow their hearts to change.  They are vulnerable with their personal lives, sharing joy and pain with each other.  When someone shares their heart or their pain, they genuinely feel along side each other.  I can't even do this group justice with words.  I love these women and have found an organic connection within them.

We checked out their Sunday and Wednesday studies.  Again, we both were floored by the openness and honesty.  I had never seen a pastor pray over the entire church's prayer requests nor open the floor for church-wide discussion on his preaching.  

Through people we had met, we were invited to a Sunday School class.  Again, great content and fellowship for us.  Through email or class, we always receive so much information.

Speaking of that....

I don't remember the last time I took notes on a sermon or class or anything.  It had been months since I had done any bible study.  My bible had dust on it.  Why?  Becuase I was discouraged spiritually.  Most everything I had heard was over my head or spoken in a way that was difficult for me to assimilate on my own.  

The past three months I happily head to church and bible study with bible and journal in hand.  I have pages and pages of notes.  The Word of God has never come alive for me the way it has the past few months.  I understand it.  It is spoken and presented in a way that I understand.  When I say happily, I mean it.

I am beginning to think that it is easy to know where God is leading you when you look at the situation that is so good and say, "We didn't mean for it to happen, it just did."

That brings me back to the phone call.  I have missed church for about 4 Sundays and my husband 2 Sundays.  A gentleman we've talked to a couple times called my husband today.  First of all, he had to go to the trouble to hunt down the phone number as we haven't shared that openly.  Most importantly, we were missed.  WE WERE MISSED!  

Someone cared enough about us to call and check on us.  (Again, not pointing a finger at our previous church...)  This has never happened to us before coming to this church.  This is so consistent throughout this entire congregation.  I miss a bible study or church and I have emails from multiple women making sure I am ok, asking if I need anything.  

I shared some of our holiday trials within my bible study group.  On Thanksgiving, I had several ladies email me to say they were praying for me or thinking of me.  Not only that, but we were invited to several homes for the holiday.  

And now, one of the men is checking in on my husband.  Thank you, Lord.  

This congregation has welcomed us, reached out to us and truly made us a part of them.  And, all of this while we have made it clear that we are looking for a church home and having made no committment to them whatsoever.  

It warms my heart to be in a place where we enjoy worship, see spiritual growth within ourselves and seem to fit socially so well.  I am so thankful that God's plan is so much better than my own.  I'm thankful for these people who so easily show the love Christ has put in their hearts.  

Choosing Grief Over Familiar

This is one of the posts that have been on my heart and in my mind for so long, but I dreaded the messyness of laying it all out.  As much as we all want it to be, life isn't always a bowl full of cherries and sunshine.  Sometimes it flat out sucks.  Sometimes you find yourself in a position where you must make a choice that you know is going to hurt. 

That is certainly where my husband and I found ourselves this past September.  Without going into all the details, I'll just say we found ourselves struggling with decisions being made in our church.  At that time, we decided to visit another local church.

Our plan was to take a few weeks to reboot.  We needed a time away, a time to refresh our minds and search our hearts.  That first Sunday, we walked in with an attitude that this was temporary.  Our plan was to put our hearts in a position to once again appreciate our church. 

There is just no other way to say it.  When you spend three years volunteering in a church office, you see a completely different side of church than what you find on Sunday mornings.  There was no way for me to remove all that I had seen or experienced, but I wanted desparately to have that Sunday morning perspective of the church body. 

Since I did not grow up in church, I certainly was not prepared for what happened during those first few weeks of visiting another church.  It was ugly!!!  The rumor mill ran rampant.  Things were said that shouldn't have been said.  Confrontations happened that were completly uncalled for.  Assumptions were made.  And through all of the ugliness and hurt, nobody was asking.  Nobody asked why we had stepped away from the church. 

Let me just say....that was a dagger to my heart.  These people I had served and served with for over six years seemingly either didn't miss us or were content to accept rumor instead of come to us.  I'm not pointing a finger, honestly I am not.  I say all of that to remind myself of the magnitude of pain this has caused.  The church I was baptized in and the family who once accepted us as part of them hasn't asked once said they missed us or bothered to ask where we've been or why.  Put yourself in my shoes for just a minute.  Wouldn't you be hurt too?  Three months have passed and not one person has asked...

But, this isn't a post about pointing fingers and isn't even about comparing churches...I promise.  It is fully about grief.

I didn't think there would ever be anything comparable to choosing to leave my immediate family.  If you aren't familiar with my story, I had to chose between God and my family.  In my family, you can't have both.  Of course, I chose God. 

Making a choice to leave the church I was baptized in was almost as painful and in some respects, even more so.  It was by no means easy.  I fought it for weeks.  I went back and forth.  I spent days and days stomping my feet and saying no way.  Even while God was very clearly showing us that it was time, I fought it.

With the exception of one or two, every relationship I have in my life was developed in the church.  Relationships meant very little to me before I was in church.  Now, they mean everything to me.  In fact, if I consider someone a friend now, it means I care about them very deeply.  If I call you a friend, it means I genuinely care about your well-being and think of you often.  It means that you are more to me than a hello/goodbye once a week.  It means that I'm not afraid for you to see my weaknesses nor am I scared to see yours. 

I have gone through weeks and weeks of not wanting to lose that.  The past year has been a good year of developing relationships.  It's been a year of living life with people and being vulnerable with people.  I certainly could not stand the thought of losing ground or even starting over.

Several months ago, a friend told me that leaving a church is like a divorce.  I suppose I have seen glimpses of that.  I think the more accurate way to describe it is leaving high school or college.  On graduation day, you always make these grand plans to stay in touch and get together throughout the year.  Then, life happens and you lose touch.  That is how I am feeling. 

Don't get me wrong, I have some solid relationships that these changes won't affect.  However, it's already started to happen with the majority and my heart aches over it.  Of course it does.  Three months of not seeing the people I thought I'd see raising children or I'd grow old with.  Of course it hurts. 

I also don't want you to think the grieving process is over.  The wound is going to be open for some time to come.  The holidays.  The events.  The dinners.  The sweet times of fellowship.  One by one, those things are going to come and go and I will feel alone and apart from the family I spent the past six years with for those things.  There is still plenty of tears to be shed over this.  There's still going to be awkward conversations.  There is still growing pains to come and times of not understanding and difference.

God is clearly leading us in this decision.  He has clearly closed a door for us, slammed it shut in our faces.  Despite our denial, understanding, frustration, pain...He has a bigger plan for us.  I am doing my best to always keep in mind that His plan is always better than mine.  His plan is beautiful and wonderful.  It is my desire to hang onto my plan that brings the pain and tears.

It is a difficult decision to choose grief over familiar, pain over comfort.  But in the words of a very intellegent, godly woman...the right and good thing isn't always the easiest thing. 

Restlessness

I am no stranger to being restless.  In my many years of sleep deprivation, the worst part of it was the long nights of being restless.  Enduring hours and hours of tossing, turning and discomfort, I easily grew weary.

During that time, I would have quickly taken another path had it been available.  I would have chosen to sleep.  Sleep would have been a much welcomed end to the restlessness that had settled into my body and mind.

On my wall hangs a bible verse..."Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."  Matthew 11:28

This verse became my mantra.  With complete depletion of sanity and self sustainability, I learned to rely on God for rest.  Rest without sleep.  I know, that seems impossible, but God provided.  He gave me rest in unconventional ways when my restlessness threatened to destroy me physically and emotionally.

Recently, I have walked into another season of restlessness.  It isn't the same as before.  My heart and soul are restless. 

For so long, I have survived within the church by just showing up.  I went through quite a long stretch of being spiritually stagnant and struggling to mature.  The idea of just showing up wasn't my own, but was encouraged by wonderful, godly friends who wanted to help me persevere through this season. 

This new season I am moving into, fearfully and enthusiastically, can only be attributed to the work of God in my heart. 

Honestly, I feel as though a switch was flipped in me.  One day, one week, I'm not sure how or when...I woke up wanting more for myself.  Suddenly, just showing up wasn't enough for me and I wanted more.  I needed more. 

As life does, there seemed to be a domino effect of unfortunate events and circumstances at the exact same time that I found myself wanting more spiritually.  That led to several hard conversations with my husband and even more difficult decisions.

Thankfully, in very different ways, God was causing some restlessness in his heart too. 

Isn't it funny how God chooses to speak to us in very personal ways?  I really do believe the restlessness was brought God given and directed.

After much discussion, we agreed that we had to decide together what was important for us in a church.  To clear our minds, we chose to head to a different local church for a short sermon series. 

Our plan and hope was to clear our minds of the junk satan uses to confuse us.  We also hoped to return to our home church with a renewed spirit and appreciation. 

Again, life happens...rumors run rampant, feelings are hurt, truth is revealed and bitterness ensues.  However, we quickly learned that God was right there with us.  He was in the middle of our pain, comforting us and drawing us both to Him more than ever.

I can't wait to share more with you in the upcoming posts.  God has done amazing things in my life the past few months and I cannot wait to share more about it.

Inner City School Experience

Halloween usually passes by without much consequence for me.  Not having kids and living in a primarily retired area of town makes it fairly seamless for us.  Although, this year has turned out a bit different.

I was given the opportunity to bake cookies for and help in the delivery of goodies to an inner city charter school. 

Let me tell you, I was a little nervous prior to arriving and in such self centered ways.  Even though my friend teaches there, my white-girl-from-small-town-Kansas-totally-suburbanized self was admittedly hesitant about spending the day in an inner city school.

Granted, times have changed and school security is much tighter since I went to school, but I was still a little taken aback by the doors being locked at all times.  Walking in the door, a mix of sweat, children, mold and dirt smacked me in the face.  That isn't an insult to anyone or anything, but the first thing to really grab hold my senses and make me seriously open my eyes.

 My husband and I have traveled to poverty stricken nations for vacation.  Before you judge, those areas survive off farming and tourism.  Since we go in fall or winter, we always see kids going to or leaving schools.  We've seen the schools.  They are old, dirty and usually small.  Often, if they are lucky enough to have windows and doors, they are covered by bars.  The kids all wear uniforms and all look very happy. 

Statistically, in the poverty stricken areas, it is a privilege to go to school.  In most areas, schools only go through 8th or 9th grade.  Only the elite are able to go onto high school, especially women, and even less go to community colleges. 

As I walked up the three flights of stairs, I felt as though I was walking through one of those schools we had seen in another country.  Again, not judging! 

Outside the classroom was a variety of buckets sitting to catch the water dripping from the leaky roof.  Inside the classroom, another bucket was set up to catch water.  The ceiling tiles had either already collapsed or were bowing every so close to falling to the floor.  Electrical wires to the overhead projector were catching some of the leaky rain water while a light fixture held another giant puddle within it.  Talking with the teacher and another person later in the day, I found out that these conditions were wonderful compared to the building they had been in last year.

I hate to overly stereotype anyone or anything, but on the surface the kids and school were much like you would see on television.  Even the neighborhoods are a lot like you would think of inner city.

As you drive to the school, you see dilapidated houses with bars and boards covering the windows.  They are tiny and old and many have junk or old cars or trash in the front yards.  My simplistic, naïve heart wants to believe these are uninhabitable, yet I know that they are the most substantial thing most of these families own. 

When I watch the news night after night, the murders and violence and gang activity all seem a world away.  But this school sits amidst it all, 30 minutes from my front door.

Completely on the surface, the children seem explosive and very rough.  In the yelling and fighting and attitude, it is difficult to the innocence at first. 

These kids were all middle school age.  I didn't think for a second that they would be excited about a pipe cleaner candy spider, pencils and cookies.  Boy was I wrong!  The minute I began to hand out the goodies, I was completely overwhelmed by the childish innocence that I never expected to find.

The kids were all so thankful and delighted by the goodies.  They were excited over plain, yellow pencils.  When was the last time that you were excited over a pencil or anything that small?  It broke my heart to repeatedly hear from the kids how badly they needed pencils. 

The teacher had to tell the kids that they couldn't do their homework assignment on the computer.  She couldn't allow it because not every child has access to a computer.  This is 2013 and I can't wrap my head around that.  We live in a house full of electronics.  We each have a laptop.  We each have ipads, iphones, ipods, etc.  So much we take for granted.

As we left, there were two older guys waiting for one of the kids I had seen that day.  They yelled and talked about shooting someone as they walked down the block after school.  I think that is when it really sunk in.  These kids are still babies in this big mean world.  They are so young and yet live in a time and place that causes them to grow up too fast. 

My broken little heart wants to rescue them all.  I want to whisk them away to a loving, safe home that is bright and clean and warm.  I want to shield them from violence and gangs and the ways of the cold, unforgiving streets.  I want to tuck them safely into bed at night and send them off to clean, updated schools every morning.

I applaud my friend for what she does and does well.  I couldn't do it.  I'm appalled that in this day and in this country, that we have living and school conditions like this.  I cannot believe that our government; federal, state or local, is ok with this.

There is little that I can do outside of praying.  The problem is too big for me.  I will certainly be more committed to praying for the children, the school, the community and for my friend.  I will be praying that she can be a positive influence and a light to these children who so badly need it.

Hands and Feet

It is finally time to start transferring these posts I have been long drafting out of my head and onto here.

The first has been a long time coming, well over due. 

Going back to August 2007, I was introduced to a woman as I walked through the church office to meet with the pastor.  I tended to stay fairly closed off of all strangers at that time.  I paid little attention to who she was and certainly had no idea of the significance she would very soon have in my life.

At the end of the meeting with the pastor, he handed me the card of the lady I had been introduced to and suggested I call her to set up a time to meet.  She was the church counselor.  I remember thinking, "No way!" 

In my family, counseling was bad.  Of course I understand now that it was another level of my family keeping their dysfunction as private as possible.  I had tried to go to counseling many times before.  Each time had been a miserable failure.

Less than a mile from the church, I pulled my car over and called the counselor.  She answered and scheduled an appointment for me the following Tuesday.  I had no reason within myself to do that.  In fact, had my call gone to voicemail I am not sure I would have left a message.  Looking back, I realize just how God orchestrated the details of all of it. 

The very next day, my life fell apart.  The dam broke.  Everything I knew, believed, lived and loved had been completely changed forever.  A flood of memories came rushing back to me.  It would be the last time I willingly saw my parents and would become estranged from my entire family. 

Just a few very long days later, I would walk into her office.  I was unable to speak over the choked emotion that had settled in my throat and the tears that would not stop.  My mind stood firm in holding the family secrets, but my heart found comfort in her words and actions.  What I spewed out that day was minimal, but her message that day was clear.  It was one of love and hope, two things I had experienced so little of at time and had such difficulty believing.

That was the first of many, many, many counseling sessions to come.  It was also the beginning of what would eventually become one of my most trusted friendships. 

It isn't an understatement to say that I cannot count the number of ways she has been there for me over the past 6 1/2 years. 

There have been times she has been like a mother to me.  And, I don't exactly mean as one of those matriarchal types who shows love and gives guidance through all things.  Don't get me wrong, she does do that.  What I am referring to is more of the stubborn mother of a teenager kind of motherly.  Yes, it is true.  Many times, sometimes for months at a time, I was that fit throwing-I don't need you screaming-I refuse to do anything you say teenager type.  At the time I hated her motherly approach.  I rebelled against her loving correction.  I insisted she couldn't be the mother I never had.

Maybe in my heart, I knew then and I definitely know now that she was loving me through those times when I trusted nobody and refused to believe I could be loved...because that was usually the source of my rebellion.

She has been that loving, comforter through some of the most difficult times too.  When I found myself lost and in the darkest valleys, her hand was never far away.  She would set for hours with me when I was fairly certain I could not stand to live one more minute.  During those seriously dark times, she held onto me so tight that I couldn't slip away and always went a step further to remind me that the darkness was only temporary. 

Everything she has taught me is too numerous to name as well.  I could start with this blog.  She is the one who taught me that these things that when the darkness threatens to consume, it is not my forever.  Regardless of how difficult it may seem, it will not be my forever because God has better for me. 

She has taught me to love and love well.  She has taught me to speak truth with love and respect.  She has taught me to trust and when to be cautious.  She has taught me that God is in the small things and He is far bigger than even my huge obstacles.  She has taught me to know my worth without arrogance.  The list goes on and on...

There have been times she has met very real, physical needs.  For most of the time I wasn't driving, she was the one who made sure I got where I needed to go.  Appointments, shopping, even getting my hair done, she made sure I got what I needed.  When I went for days without sleeping and I had a fear of my own house, she gave me a quiet, safe place to sleep. 

Outside of emotional and physical needs, she has been there to watch over my spiritual needs.  As I struggled to find my place in the church, she was there to guide me.  When I suffered the pains of being hurt in the church, she was there to direct me back to God.  And when I just didn't think I could do the "church thing" ever again, she never let me leave. 

Without a doubt, this woman is incredibly humble.  I know she would tell you that she does what she feels led to do and gets a front row seat to see what God does.  That is the kind of person she is.  She never takes credit and is sure to give God the glory for everything.

Through everything, she has never left me.  From beginning to now, she hasn't left my side.  Through all the difficulty.  When others have run in fear.  When the hurt has been unthinkable.  Through life altering times.  She's been there. 

I know I've said a lot and yet there is so much more.  Thinking through it all, I understand and know that this would not be possible in any other setting outside the church.  The trust, relationship and work in my life would not have happened in an average counseling setting.  In no other type of counseling would have so clearly seen the hand of God in my life. 

As I always do, I write this for myself.  I know my journey is far from over.  I know there are many times to come when I will be like an obstinate teen.  So, I share this as a reminder for myself.  A reminder that in the tough times to come, God will be in it all.  And, when God uses this person or others to be His hands, I need to grab on and hold tight. 

I also share this to encourage you.  Don't be afraid to let God use you in big ways.  When you find yourself in a position to be the hands and feet, don't let fear drive you away.  Allow yourself to be used for the glory of God.  Look past your fear and insecurity and know that God will give you what you need to be His mouthpiece, His hands.  Don't hesitate.  Don't run.  Give freely the love and hope that has been given you by others who have allowed themselves to be used by God.

One Way Road

The past few weeks have been full. Full of busyness, pain, joy, laughter, tears, exploration, accomplishment, goodbyes, hellos, shock, denial, anger, frustration, confusion, renewal, reunion and growth. Though I am not quite ready to share any of it today, I can say that God has been really good to me through it all.


In the many reunions and hellos of the past month, I have fought the internal battle of how much of my life to share and when. Keeping in mind, the range of people I have encountered lately have range from people who have been in my life for over 35 years to barely 30 seconds.

If the past six years have taught me anything, it is that much of my life has been kept hidden. For as much as I feel free to share, I still only share bits and pieces with those closest to me. It's fair. I want people to know, accept and love me for who I am before they know how I came to be who I am.

Although, I am learning that I am not ok with friends not knowing anything about me. In fact, I am really not ok with them not caring about my life. I think you know what I am talking about, those one way friendships.

Before I go further, let me clarify something. If we are friends and you read my blog, I am obviously not referring to you in this. In fact, it would be more directed at the people I am close to who have no clue I have a blog or even enjoy writing.

I know, my past experiences are expanse. Since the average person doesn't know my story, I tend to offer a lot of grace in their everyday conversations. However, if you talk to me very long at all you will know that I am estranged from my family and I do have a very difficult background.

Over the past year, I have renewed a relationship with a previous acquaintance. A text I received yesterday jumped off the screen and slapped me into reality. This has become a one way road. I have listened and helped this person at every turn, praying for their every request and given advice when asked.

Yesterday's text was one of many lately where I realized that this person knows nothing about me. She has never asked. She has never even asked how I am doing. She has never left room in any conversation for anything outside of herself. She has never been willing to listen to me. She has never offered to pray for me as she has never been open to listening to my needs. The list could go on...

It wasn't pride or ego that slapped me in the face; it was my own need for people and relationships. Frankly, I deserve better than that.

Believe me; I know sometimes God will push me into a relationship to be more than I thought or more than can be given in return. I know that because He has put many people in my life who were that for me. They were for me more than I could ever be in return. That's what I needed at the time. However, I also believe God can give you a huge, giant sign that it is time to extricate yourself from a relationship and I believe I got it.

Honestly, the one way road kind of relationships is just not for me anymore. I have grown up. I need more. I need deep relationships. I need surface relationships. And I MUST have reciprocal relationships, even if it is only miniscule.

I think the ways someone can easily hurt me in a relationship has evolved. The easiest way is to not care about who I am.

I was forced for so long to keep my past a secret, burying it. I'm not saying I want to dump that on each person I meet, but I am saying that I don't ever want to feel like my life doesn't matter. I never want to feel like I don't matter. I think that has to be a normal feeling, regardless of your background.

Maybe it is the growth spurt (spiritual and emotional) I have hit lately that makes me so confident in knowing what I need in relationship. Or, maybe it is just me embracing the God given desire to be cared for and loved and known. No more one way roads.

By the way, I am so thankful for those who have walked through seasons with me where they likely felt it was a one way road. To you, I am forever grateful. Please know your perseverance has contributed to my growth.

The First in 20 Years

And so it just is...my life is messy right now.  Really, really messy.  So many things around me, far out of my control, that are affecting me in deep ways.  Hurt.  Anger.  Confusion.  They have all settled deep in my heart and for things others have done, things I cannot manipulate or change or even accept with any sort of willingness.

My 20 year class reunion is less than two weeks away.  I was not invited.  I wasn't a complete outcast in school.  Yes, I was quiet and didn't spend much time with my classmates outside of school.  I wasn't super popular, but I wasn't hated either.  I was super smart and the teachers probably had more fondness for me than my peers. 

Aside from all that, I helped plan and paid for our 10 year reunion.  Another story for another day.  We have lived in the same house for over 15 years and I am on most every social media where anyone could have asked my address. 

But I digress...that isn't what this post is about.

One of my classmates died Friday.  He's our first.  We had a former classmate commit suicide several years back, but I'm not sure anyone cared.  Sad but true.  The guy dropped out at 16, which was 8th grade for him and had a troubled life. 

So, this is the first major loss in our class.  We went over 20 years.  I know, the older we get the more this will happen.  Just like friends with major illnesses and all sorts of huge life issues that nobody ever thought they would see until they were their parent's ages.

The guy who passed away was amazingly talented.  He and his parents moved across the street from us when were in junior high.  I think this guy was born with a set of drumsticks.  He was the most talented drummer I had ever seen.  It was rare to not hear him pounding out a series of songs every night. 

He was a great artist too.  Although his art often came in the form of drawings that involved teachers doing I don't even know what to creatures that went straight from his head to the paper. 

He was a nice guy.  He helped me several times with car problems when my family wouldn't.  He is also the only guy who ever stuck up for me when I was being picked on as a kid. 

But he was also deeply troubled.  Despite loving parents, a strong churched childhood and a wonderful extended family, he fell in with the wrong crowd during high school. 

Through a few conversations with him late in high school and shortly after, I know he suffered from depression and possibly ADD or anxiety.  His way of coping was drugs.  Because of that, many people distanced themselves from him. 

I know he had his demons.  I had lost touch with him long ago, but his obituary reads as though he had turned his life around.  I don't yet know his cause of death and I suppose it doesn't matter now that he is gone.  His obit says he was a spiritual man, praying for friends often.  I hope that is true.  Regardless, my heart breaks for his family. 

My anger, confusion, hurt and frustration is felt in my classmates.  When I say we all grew up together, we did.  My graduating class was all of 44 people.  Of those 44, over 35 of us had been together since grade school and over 20 of us had started kindergarten together.  It shouldn't take death for that many people to come together or communicate with each other.  It shouldn't take a loss for people to be kind to each other.  It shouldn't take considering mortality for people to show heart and compassion. 

It would have been easier to understand if our class had been there for this guy during the hardest parts of life, instead of turing their backs.  I'm not sure I hear much from anyone in my class unless it is under the pretense of gossip.  How sad is that?  We spent 13 years in school with each other and we reduced ourselves to communicating only when there is gossip or death?  Why must it be like this?  Maybe coming from a small town where that is common place, brings us to a place of being just the same.

I'm sad that years pass by and the people who were our first real community become such strangers to us.  It is upsetting that what we know of each other becomes largely based on gossip or what we knew 10 or 20 years ago. 

Maybe I am in a little bit of shock because he's the first.  Maybe I am a little angry and hurt because some people are so uncaring.  m

Picking Tomatoes in the Rain

Several weeks ago, I wrote out lots of blog posts and scheduled them.  I have since figured out that I don't really like incorporating the recipes in this blog.  They just don't belong here.  So, I'll be transfering them back over to the cooking blog.  I don't mind the crafts being on here because they are the balance in my life. 

As I said in one of those posts, I never know how long these "good" times are going to last.  Unfortunately, it didn't last much past me typing it. 

Don't get me wrong, to the rest of the world, I usually look like things are good.  I keep myself put together long enough to get through any and all interaction with people.  When things get bad, that gets more difficult.  It gets harder to hide the depression and anxiety.  So, I tend to hide out at home or generally avoid human contact.  Even the people who are safe to talk to, I avoid.  I know silly.  But, I do have to illusion that if I don't talk about it, "it" WILL go away.

I have been bobbing along all summer on the edge of breaking down, but managed to hold off.  But when several things happen, one after another, I get overwhelmed and break.  That's what happened the past few weeks.

We had an extremely difficult birthday dinner with my husband's family.  That will get a post all of it's own, but it was painful.  The passive-aggressive claws came out and the conversations were like watching two cats face off.  I literally cried the whole hour long drive home from the personal hurt I felt and this isn't even my family.

I have several friends who have confided in me, relied on me, and come to me with a variety of issues.  I have been extremely happy to listen to them, talk to them, encourage them and help them.  But when you are fighting your own monster alone, it wears you down.  I feel sorry for those who have come to me because I know I haven't always been able to give 100%.

Speaking of going at alone, I really have the past few weeks.  I have become a master at surface relationships.  While I still struggle to have deep relationships.  I have one or two or three, maybe.  But those are newish and I live with a very real fear that they aren't strong enough yet to survive the other person seeing me in a breakdown. 

My husband's schedule continues to be very busy.  He did have an interview this week that could potentially put an end to all the extra jobs.  But until then, we pray and try to take advantage of the time we have together.  It also looks like his travel schedule is going to pick back up as he travels this week for the first time since June.

Again, this will probably be a post all of its own, but I found out just yesterday that we won't be spending Thanksgiving with my brother and his family.  I spent a day in shock and am now trying to sort through the various levels of heartache this brings. 

I won't even go into the myriad of nightmares, flashbacks and memories that keep me awake all night or in a constant state of irritation and hypervigiliance. 

Over the past couple months, I had made it to church several times.  I still find myself struggling to connect to the church.  It isn't just this church, I think I would feel that way anywhere.  Last year, I at least had a couple ministries that kept my foot in the door.  I had the church decorating and the kitchen.

The decorating is no more and for reasons I can't even explain in an intelligent way.  The kitchen is there, but barely.  I get contacted when there is a problem or supplies are needed.  Last year, I was involved in and organized meals on Wednesday evenings.  Because of a lack of volunteers, that ministry is no more.  At first, I was happy about that.  It was a lot of work.  I didn't think it would bother me, but it certainly does.  I kind of feel like I have nothing now.  And I mean that.  Outside of a couple things I do in the women's ministry, I have been shut out of just about anything and everything I would be interested in within this church.  That's a tough reality. 

So today when I woke up and heard the rain falling, I grabbed my shoes and headed to the garden.  Still in my pjs, I picked tomatoes.  The rain was a symbol of life for me today.  The rain falls, grass and plants grow.  The dry, brittle grass is revived after a soaking rain.  As the rain drenched me, all I could think about was how I needed for something to feed me...revive me.  I needed to feel alive again. 

Sweet Pickles

Canning anything is something that has always intimidated me.  As I started to get an abundance of cucumbers from the garden, I decided to dive in and learn some canning.  My first venture was refrigerator sweet pickles.  They are so easy and I love them!

The recipe can be doubled or tripled or whatever you need to make all the pickles you need.  There is something even better about this recipe.  The pickles are good in the fridge for three months and so is the juice.  That means for three months you can continue to refill the jar with cucumber slices, if you eat them as fast as we do.

Here is what you will need for a small batch:

3 cups cucumber slices (I use a mandolin)
1/2 white or red onion, chopped or sliced
1 cup distilled vinegar
1 1/2 cup white sugar
2 tsp salt
1 tsp celery seed
1/2 tsp cracked black pepper

Whisk everything together except cucumbers and onions until the sugar has all dissolved.  Put your cucumbers and onions in the jar and pour the liquid mix over them.  Don't worry if the liquid doesn't fully cover the veggies.  They will soften some, bend and you will find it all works out.  Leave in the fridge for 24 hours and eat! 

I love these on burgers, sandwiches and as a snack.  I'll be trying some dill pickles next.

Cinnamon Zucchini Bars

Yes, another zucchini recipe.  As much as I like dark chocolate, I think this might be my favorite of the two.  This makes a huge sheet cake pan full, so I would recommend making this if you have a crowd to please.  With the subtle cinnamon flavor and not even a hint of zucchini, it is sure to please.

Most, if not all, of my cooking and baking is done with almond milk.  Almond milk used in this frosting does not require refrigeration.  It also makes it milk free, which is good for my lactose intolerant tummy.  Sometimes almond milk is the tiniest bit thinner than 2% or whole milk and you may have to compensate by adding a touch less or more powdered sugar as in this case. 

The original recipe says this should be more dense than it turns out.  It really does turn out like cake, but still wonderful!  Next time, I will add an extra egg to the batter and double the cinnamon in both the batter and frosting.

Here is the recipe I used:

• 1 1/4 c. butter, softened
• 3/4 c. sugar
• 3/4 c. brown sugar, packed
• 3 eggs
• 2 tsp vanilla
• 2 1/2 c. flour
• 1 Tbsp baking powder
• 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 2 c. zucchini, grated
Frosting
• 2 c. powdered sugar
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 2 Tbsp butter, melted
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 2 Tbsp milk

Instructions

1. Cream butter and sugars. Add eggs and vanilla. Mix in flour, cinnamon and baking powder. Blend in zucchini.
2. Pour into greased jelly roll pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Cool.
3. Prepare frosting. Add more milk if necessary to get right consistency. Spread over cooled bars.

Dark Chocolate Zucchini Bread

My garden has kept me incredibly busy this summer.  It has been a mild summer, but a little dry.  That means I've watered more than I'd like.  It's all been worth it though.

I planted one zucchini plant, knowing I've only gotten those to produce once ever.  It took forever, but I finally got some.  I think I have picked 5 or 6 now.  They have all been small, but so flavorful.  Besides the goal of growing the veggies, fruit and herbs, I had a goal to not let anything go to waste.  I am happy to say that if it made it out of the garden, it got eaten or used in a recipe.

Since neither of us like zucchini plain or by itself, I have used all of them in a recipes and we love them!

Here is one of our favorites.

Ok, so there isn't a zucchini here.  In fact, I've failed to get any of the before shots of the zucchini.  But this is a picture of my very first harvest of the year.  I felt like a total green thumb when I hauled this in before Memorial Day.

Here's the goods!  This has to be the most amazing dessert bread I have ever eaten.  Dark Chocolate Zucchini Bread.  Oh.  My.  Word.

I'll share the recipe, cause it is so good.  I recommend making mini loaves or even muffins.  I would also recommend baking for longer than suggested or until you can pull a toothpick out clean.  I altered the recipe by using Hershey's Special Dark powder.  Here you go:

1 1/2  cups shredded raw zucchini 

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground allspice

1/2 cup  canola oil

1/2 cup granulated white sugar

1/2 cup light brown sugar

2 large eggs

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

3/4 cup semi sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°F with a rack in the center of the oven. Grease (spray some Pam on there) a 9x5x3 inch loaf pan.
Grate the zucchini, using a medium sized grater, and set aside. You do not need to squeeze the zucchini dry. In a large bowl whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and allspice. Set aside.
In the bowl of your electric mixer (or with a hand mixer), beat the oil, sugars, eggs, and vanilla extract until well blended (about 2 minutes). Fold in the grated zucchini. Add the flour mixture, beating just until combined. Then fold in the chocolate chips. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake a toothpick/cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean (about 55 to 65 minutes). Place on a wire rack to cool for about 10 minutes, then remove the bread from the pan and cool completely.

Happy Birthday to You

Today is my husband's birthday.  He is 48 years young today.  Remember, I keep him young.  As hard as it is for him to believe he is just a few years from 50, I think it is just as hard for me to believe in a few years I will be married to a 50 year-old.

This is probably one of my favorite days of the entire year.  My husband works so hard, provides in abundance for us and loves me to a fault.  So, it would make sense that I absolutely love the one day a year that he doesn't balk at me celebrating him.

He is so selfless and modest and humble.  It is sometimes a chore to celebrate him, not that I am complaining at all!  I love it regardless.  He doesn't ask for things or really anything.  For as long as I can remember, he has always jokingly said he wants a hot dog when I ask him what he wants for dinner. 

I have lots of hits and misses trying to celebrate him without his cooperation.  There was a year I bought him one gift for every year old he was.  Another year I surprised him with gift cards from all his favorite restaurants or businesses.  On his 40th, I had a surprise birthday party for him with his family.  There were more, lots and lots more.  Regardless of whether they were a success or failure, he was worth every bit of it and more.

Up until this past year when his mom started to not know who I was, I always sent her a card on his birthday.  Over 15 years of sending her a simple thank you card on his birthday.  Not only have I tried to celebrate him, but I have done my best to celebrate who he is and where he comes from.  I would send a simple thank you card, letting her know how much I appreciated her.  Regardless of how I felt or how I was treated by his family, I have always respected that they raised him to be the man he was when I met him.

I probably say this every year, but this year I am looking forward to celebrating his birthday more than any other year.  It isn't a monumental birthday, I just love him more than ever. 

This year I've paid attention to the few things he has talked about wanting.  I have covertly gotten a birthday dessert request from him.  I have been able to plan a special dinner with some of his family. 

All that aside, I am just excited to be celebrating him.  He's the man I love.  I love how calm he stays under pressure.  He is so fearless.  He kills the spiders, even the ones that don't really scare me.  He checks the doors when my imagination hears things that aren't real.  He never gets super angry, even when I make not so super mistakes.  He is mature and a voice of reason.  He still laughs and acts like a teenager sometimes.  He is loyal.  He is a comforter and protector.

He isn't perfect, but he's perfectly mine.  I love that he continues to grow and amaze me by the man he is.  I am always amazed that I ended up with someone who possesses everything I've needed and never deserved. 

Today I celebrate my husband, my loving husband.  I celebrate the day he took his first breath and every precious moment of the past 48 years of his life.