This town and community is small. Smaller than anywhere I've ever lived. Depending on the Internet source, there is 800-1100 people. It's unlike anywhere I've lived, not just because of size but because of the overwhelming sense of family and community.
There's downsides to it, there is anywhere. But the list is short. The list of positive attributes is far longer.
Everybody knows each other, especially those who've always lived in the area. So, when there is a loss...everyone feels it.
A few days ago, a local family unexpectedly lost their four month old baby boy.
The mother is the young lady who does my hair. I first met her when she was pregnant. I met her at church and several people recommended her to me. I've had the opportunity to talk with her a few times while in the shop. I don't claim to know her well, but one thing I'm certain of is that she loves her babies.
Knowing that, I'm certain the loss has devastated her and her family.
The loss has also hit the community. Restaurants, facebook, gas stations, doctors offices, it's being discussed everywhere. Every person I've heard talk about it has known some member of the family or been a customer at the salon.
It's a loss felt by everyone. Not in an "oh that's sad" way, but in a heartfelt sorrowful way.
Again, it's unlike anything I've ever experienced.
As with any unexpected struggle in life, people cling to faith or question their faith. I've heard both.
When an elderly person passes, we are sad but often take comfort in their faith, legacy and full life. When a child is lost, we often struggle to see God's plan or goodness. We question our allegiance to a deity who would take a precious baby. I'm not speaking for everyone. However, I've seen the most mature christians question their faith after a difficult loss.
Having lost unborn children, it's an easy trap to fall into. Our emotions become stronger than truth and we question.
Since I'm the newbie in town, this loss hasn't effected me the way it has others. I'm sad, but I'm more resigned to pray for my community and those who are hurting.
I'm obviously praying for comfort and peace.
There's so much more. God doesn't create a path for us that includes pin and suffering. We have it because we live in a fallen world. Every loss, every pain, God can redeem, restore and use for his glory. It's one of the many ways He shows us how deeply and personally he loves us.
So, I'm praying for God to redeem, restore and use this loss for His glory. I'm praying the faith of this family can be strengthened and an example for the lost who surround them and are also grieving with them.
I'm praying many blessings over this community as they move on from this loss.
I'm praying those near to the family will continue to provide support and comfort to the family in the coming days, weeks and months ahead.
My heart breaks in very intimate ways for this family and community. All I can do is trust God and pray. That's all any of us can do.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Saturday, January 3, 2015
I'm a Failure
Socially. I fail. Failed. Failing.
It took a long time for me to transition into a social person. I used to require hours and hours each day of time alone. I didn't like crowds or groups. I never had a desire for relationships.
Then, I learned that beyond a relationship with God, we were designed to have relationships with others. It was a complete change for me. I slowly began to want relationships.
It was a tough road. I had to learn the hard way that friendships are best when formed organically and not rushed.
Over the past few years, I finally developed many friendships. Some surface, some intimate. Those deeper, intimate relationships are where I thrive.
I know I've said it before, but I've struggled here in Ohio. I've struggled to have patience and discernment.
A few months ago, I thought I was on the right track.
Our church has small groups and bible studies. I was participating in them and allowing myself to be vulnerable. It's what I believed I needed to do to develop relationships.
Backing up a few months ago, I made a huge mistake. I shared my heart, my concerns. I allowed myself to be vulnerable in a group of people who had so easily spoken their minds for months. I trusted.
The very next day and following week, I realized the horrific mistake of made. Without going too far into it, I'll say this particular situation got out of hand. It spread like wildfire and I quickly knew I was not in a group where it was safe to share my heart.
Honestly, that's not on them. It's on me. I got too comfortable.
I think by now, it's blown over with everyone except me. There's still fallout for me. I can't undo my natural instinct to withdraw. My ability to be vulnerable was injured and that isn't easily repaired. Despite my best efforts and prayer, I can't put myself out there right now.
That's painful. It's left me in this place where relationships are limited. I'm not thriving, I'm hiding. At church, I sit quietly beside my husband during services and studies. I don't initiate conversation. I head straight to the car the second it's over.
I'm fearful of saying the wrong thing, scared of vulnerability.
It all makes me very sad and lonely.
I know, I can't have it both ways. It's not possible. My desire to protect myself is far stronger than my need to relationships. Obviously. But it's painful. I know it's difficult for anyone to understand. The best explanation I can give is that you tend to self protect faster and more completely when you come out of deep childhood pain and trauma.
Here's a painful truth. I've failed in every small group I've ever been in since becoming a christian.
In the beginning, I failed because I wasn't healthy enough to function in a group of people. Then I failed because the sheer size of the group was overwhelming and again, I wasn't healthy enough. Then, I failed because the group began to fall apart. Then, I failed because we were leaving the church.
My success has been so minute that it doesn't count.
Coming here, I was excited for small group bible study. I was healthier and ready for the interaction. I couldn't wait for it to begin. But once again, I've failed.
We've discussed it and I've prayed about it. I can't return to our small group. It's incredibly painful. Not only because it's another failure, but because I so desperately need interaction with people.
I know I've disappointed my husband and myself and probably everyone who put effort into including us in the group.
But I just can't. I'll never be comfortable and I'll likely struggle with trust.
It's hard to admit. It's not an easy decision. These are all very nice people. Again, they aren't the problem.
I'm hoping my husband will continue. He also needs the interaction. It'll be tough to send him out the door every Sunday evening. It'll be a reminder that I'm a failure. It'll be a time of loneliness.
My prayer and deepest desire is that I can trust and be vulnerable and these walls can be let down. I know I've taken a few steps back. I hope overcoming this, like any setback, will bring me out more confident and healthier on the other side.
It took a long time for me to transition into a social person. I used to require hours and hours each day of time alone. I didn't like crowds or groups. I never had a desire for relationships.
Then, I learned that beyond a relationship with God, we were designed to have relationships with others. It was a complete change for me. I slowly began to want relationships.
It was a tough road. I had to learn the hard way that friendships are best when formed organically and not rushed.
Over the past few years, I finally developed many friendships. Some surface, some intimate. Those deeper, intimate relationships are where I thrive.
I know I've said it before, but I've struggled here in Ohio. I've struggled to have patience and discernment.
A few months ago, I thought I was on the right track.
Our church has small groups and bible studies. I was participating in them and allowing myself to be vulnerable. It's what I believed I needed to do to develop relationships.
Backing up a few months ago, I made a huge mistake. I shared my heart, my concerns. I allowed myself to be vulnerable in a group of people who had so easily spoken their minds for months. I trusted.
The very next day and following week, I realized the horrific mistake of made. Without going too far into it, I'll say this particular situation got out of hand. It spread like wildfire and I quickly knew I was not in a group where it was safe to share my heart.
Honestly, that's not on them. It's on me. I got too comfortable.
I think by now, it's blown over with everyone except me. There's still fallout for me. I can't undo my natural instinct to withdraw. My ability to be vulnerable was injured and that isn't easily repaired. Despite my best efforts and prayer, I can't put myself out there right now.
That's painful. It's left me in this place where relationships are limited. I'm not thriving, I'm hiding. At church, I sit quietly beside my husband during services and studies. I don't initiate conversation. I head straight to the car the second it's over.
I'm fearful of saying the wrong thing, scared of vulnerability.
It all makes me very sad and lonely.
I know, I can't have it both ways. It's not possible. My desire to protect myself is far stronger than my need to relationships. Obviously. But it's painful. I know it's difficult for anyone to understand. The best explanation I can give is that you tend to self protect faster and more completely when you come out of deep childhood pain and trauma.
Here's a painful truth. I've failed in every small group I've ever been in since becoming a christian.
In the beginning, I failed because I wasn't healthy enough to function in a group of people. Then I failed because the sheer size of the group was overwhelming and again, I wasn't healthy enough. Then, I failed because the group began to fall apart. Then, I failed because we were leaving the church.
My success has been so minute that it doesn't count.
Coming here, I was excited for small group bible study. I was healthier and ready for the interaction. I couldn't wait for it to begin. But once again, I've failed.
We've discussed it and I've prayed about it. I can't return to our small group. It's incredibly painful. Not only because it's another failure, but because I so desperately need interaction with people.
I know I've disappointed my husband and myself and probably everyone who put effort into including us in the group.
But I just can't. I'll never be comfortable and I'll likely struggle with trust.
It's hard to admit. It's not an easy decision. These are all very nice people. Again, they aren't the problem.
I'm hoping my husband will continue. He also needs the interaction. It'll be tough to send him out the door every Sunday evening. It'll be a reminder that I'm a failure. It'll be a time of loneliness.
My prayer and deepest desire is that I can trust and be vulnerable and these walls can be let down. I know I've taken a few steps back. I hope overcoming this, like any setback, will bring me out more confident and healthier on the other side.
Friday, January 2, 2015
I'm a Fraud
I've laid here crying for three hours. So much emotion.
To be fair, my husband suggested I call one of my trusted friends who know the score and talk through this.
I can't. I'm absolutely too ashamed. I have children in my house and I couldn't protect them. They got hit and it reduced me to a pile. I thought my brother had stopped this, but I was wrong. So very wrong. He's a child abuser. Still. I completely misread him. I'm ashamed of it all. Hanging my head and embarrassed to admit it to anyone.
My embarrassment doesn't stop there. I'm obviously not as healthy as I thought. One confrontation with my brother and I was thrown back to childhood. As my tears drenched my pillow, my body shook uncontrollably. A constant replay of so much trauma shot through my mind and body.
Not since we moved have I had a PTSD episode quite as violent as this one. I had no control over any of it. I was stuck in a distant time and felt each blow. The really crappy part of PTSD is that I feel the physical pain for days. The memory is so strong that I will physically ache and even bruise in the areas coinciding with the memory.
The mind is a powerful thing, but memories exercise the most control.
I don't know how things will be once they leave. Right now they are tense. I don't know if the PTSD episodes will subside. I've not been triggered so heavily here.
It's left me in a position where satan has won.
All that I have felt and thought for the past few months has come full circle.
All the lies have become truth.
All the truth has now been questioned.
I'm not having a crisis of faith, but a crisis of life.
For the first time in a long time, I don't feel worthy of the air I'm breathing. I failed. My house is no longer the safest place I know. It was. It was the only place I'd never been triggered and never seen any abuse. That's simply not true now.
Mostly, I feel like a fraud. I was getting ready to start school for counseling. A degree that would teach me the best ways to walk through trauma with others.
I just can't. I can't adequately handle my own stuff, so I don't think I can handle others stuff.
Either I read God wrong or satan has won this too. On Monday, one week before the start date, I'll be dropping all of my classes.
If I can't keep children safe in my house, then I have no business walking with others.
It's the end of a dream. Another way my past has rendered me useless.
My dad told me not that long ago that he would always have control in my life. He was right, he does. As much as I've tried, I can't seem to live any other way.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
It Finally Happened
I'm currently laying on my bed, door shut, shaking uncontrollably and crying.
I'm done. Ready for everyone to leave. I've been triggered and am ready for this to be over.
We could hear the kids fighting from the front room. It's what they do and have done the entire time. I won't say it's ruined the trip, but the fighting, immaturity and bad moods have certainly made it not so enjoyable.
Anyway, my brother went to tend to the kids and I could hear him hitting them. I lost it. I drew the line. Told all of them hitting was not allowed in my house. It's our house and that's a boundary to be respected.
My brother obviously got mouthy and I was having none of it.
NOBODY walks in this house and acts like my dad. I won't tolerate it.
I don't even know what to do. I'm so incredibly angry and upset. Its not exhaustion, it's anger.
I haven't enjoyed much of this visit and that's just honest. I've tried. I've pretended. I've lied my way through it.
I have tried my hardest to make the most of it, but I'm extremely unhappy with the whole thing. It's not a selfish unhappiness. I'm not unhappy cause I haven't gotten my way.
I'm unhappy because these people don't love me back. They don't respect me. They don't know me. They don't care.
I'm done. Ready for everyone to leave. I've been triggered and am ready for this to be over.
We could hear the kids fighting from the front room. It's what they do and have done the entire time. I won't say it's ruined the trip, but the fighting, immaturity and bad moods have certainly made it not so enjoyable.
Anyway, my brother went to tend to the kids and I could hear him hitting them. I lost it. I drew the line. Told all of them hitting was not allowed in my house. It's our house and that's a boundary to be respected.
My brother obviously got mouthy and I was having none of it.
NOBODY walks in this house and acts like my dad. I won't tolerate it.
I don't even know what to do. I'm so incredibly angry and upset. Its not exhaustion, it's anger.
I haven't enjoyed much of this visit and that's just honest. I've tried. I've pretended. I've lied my way through it.
I have tried my hardest to make the most of it, but I'm extremely unhappy with the whole thing. It's not a selfish unhappiness. I'm not unhappy cause I haven't gotten my way.
I'm unhappy because these people don't love me back. They don't respect me. They don't know me. They don't care.
My Feet Ache
Feeding six people is a lot of work. There's prep and cooking and clean up. I honestly don't know how people with large families do it. I'm sure there's a routine to it that I can't develop in a week.
I'm not complaining. It's a wonderful kind of aching feet. I wouldn't trade this time for anything.
It's easy to see the true character of a group of people when you are feeding them.
Sad to admit, but I'm not overly proud of the manners of my family.
I'm not complaining, but making observations.
My husband has been absolutely perfect during this week. He's done dishes and taken care of laundry when I just needed to sit.
My nephew is a typical teenage boy. He's not very engaged in what's going on around him. However, anytime I've asked, he's jumped right in and helped. He's taken care of most of the trash.
Now let me share my observations.
As a general rule, there hasn't been much help beyond that. Dishes are left on the table or cabinets. Nobody has offered to help with meal prep. There has not been one thank you.
It's easy to see how our childhood has infiltrated this family and it makes me sad.
Even when we go out for meals, there's no appreciation. Everyone orders with a "Give me your..." and there's not one thank you muttered.
That's hard for me and I have bit my tongue a lot.
Again, I'm not complaining. It's an observation of my parents influence on this group of people.
I'm not at elevating my status above anyone. However, I do see the good and positive influence in my life and how I have changed since initially moving away from them.
It does make me understand why my parents thought I acted like I was better than everyone else. It wasn't because I did, but because I acted different than them. I became more like my husband than them.
How crazy is it that I see growth in myself during meal times when my feet are aching and my back hurts.
I know by Saturday night, I'm going to miss these meal times. I'm going to miss the tired feet and crazy schedule.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
My Complex
It's worth starting this off with a reminder about who I am.
I don't have your typical self esteem issues. I don't get hung up on how I look like most women. I don't place value in physical aspects of me. I'm fairly confident in who I am and what I believe. I do not see myself as an attractive woman at all. As I've said before, I very much see myself as the fat, ugly person my dad expected me to be. It's not a struggle, it's just the way I am.
Rarely do I have issues with body image and when I do, they are usually a direct relation to my relationship with my husband.
I never ever alter the value of me based on social media or what others think of me. I don't compare mysef to others. I don't use social media as an indication of how well I am like or disliked nor how people feel about what I have to say.
That being said, I think social media may have played a part in a recent emotional hiccup.
I hate social media. The only reason I post ever on Facebook is for one of two reasons. One is that my friends and family will know what's going on in my life. The other is for religious reasons. That's it. I typically don't rant or rave, maybe on occasion. I don't enjoy looking at Facebook much either. I don't tweet and I use Instagram only to filter photos. I so don't use facebook to air grievances or dirty laundry or fight with my spouse.
A couple weeks ago, I had my hair cut and dyed. My color turned out darker than expected, but I liked it. I've dyed my hair dark before. I've also straightened it before. Although I don't often.
The stylist straightened it and I posted a photo on social media.
I had an unexpected response. I rarely pay much attention to likes or comments unless they deserve a thank you or other response.
This picture, it got a lot of attention. I didn't expect that. It was all complimentary.
The sentiment was that my hair style was different and beautiful. It was just a style to me. I still saw the same person. But my friends were adamant that it made me look like a new person.
At first, I was flattered. I rarely get compliments on how I look. So, I was appreciative.
However, I started to develop a complex.
Did I look that bad before? Had I needed a change? Was it so much better?
Honestly, I thought it was too dark. When it's curly, my face looks pale.
I tend to not wear my hair straight. I have naturally curly hair. It's not always been that way. My hair was bone straight or wavy until 1999. When I got pregnant the first time, I had my hair cut short and permed. I was sick and didn't want to mess with it. It never went back straight and has gotten curvier since. So, I'm more inclined to go with its natural curl.
I've been wearing it straight a lot the past few weeks. If I lok so much better, why not right?
I kind of hate. Not my hair. The response. I hate that it's made me feel even more naturally ugly. I hate that the general population can make me feel uglier than I already do. I didn't even know that was possible.
I know that nobody set out to intentionally make me feel this way. They were all trying to be encouraging. Collectively, that wasn't the case.
Really, it's not my usual MO, but I'd kind of like someone to tell me it looked better before.
Isn't it crazy how one picture on social media can have such a profound effect on how you think or feel?
I don't have your typical self esteem issues. I don't get hung up on how I look like most women. I don't place value in physical aspects of me. I'm fairly confident in who I am and what I believe. I do not see myself as an attractive woman at all. As I've said before, I very much see myself as the fat, ugly person my dad expected me to be. It's not a struggle, it's just the way I am.
Rarely do I have issues with body image and when I do, they are usually a direct relation to my relationship with my husband.
I never ever alter the value of me based on social media or what others think of me. I don't compare mysef to others. I don't use social media as an indication of how well I am like or disliked nor how people feel about what I have to say.
That being said, I think social media may have played a part in a recent emotional hiccup.
I hate social media. The only reason I post ever on Facebook is for one of two reasons. One is that my friends and family will know what's going on in my life. The other is for religious reasons. That's it. I typically don't rant or rave, maybe on occasion. I don't enjoy looking at Facebook much either. I don't tweet and I use Instagram only to filter photos. I so don't use facebook to air grievances or dirty laundry or fight with my spouse.
A couple weeks ago, I had my hair cut and dyed. My color turned out darker than expected, but I liked it. I've dyed my hair dark before. I've also straightened it before. Although I don't often.
The stylist straightened it and I posted a photo on social media.
I had an unexpected response. I rarely pay much attention to likes or comments unless they deserve a thank you or other response.
This picture, it got a lot of attention. I didn't expect that. It was all complimentary.
The sentiment was that my hair style was different and beautiful. It was just a style to me. I still saw the same person. But my friends were adamant that it made me look like a new person.
At first, I was flattered. I rarely get compliments on how I look. So, I was appreciative.
However, I started to develop a complex.
Did I look that bad before? Had I needed a change? Was it so much better?
Honestly, I thought it was too dark. When it's curly, my face looks pale.
I tend to not wear my hair straight. I have naturally curly hair. It's not always been that way. My hair was bone straight or wavy until 1999. When I got pregnant the first time, I had my hair cut short and permed. I was sick and didn't want to mess with it. It never went back straight and has gotten curvier since. So, I'm more inclined to go with its natural curl.
I've been wearing it straight a lot the past few weeks. If I lok so much better, why not right?
I kind of hate. Not my hair. The response. I hate that it's made me feel even more naturally ugly. I hate that the general population can make me feel uglier than I already do. I didn't even know that was possible.
I know that nobody set out to intentionally make me feel this way. They were all trying to be encouraging. Collectively, that wasn't the case.
Really, it's not my usual MO, but I'd kind of like someone to tell me it looked better before.
Isn't it crazy how one picture on social media can have such a profound effect on how you think or feel?
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Yikes!!!!
Where to start...
First of all, I think I'm getting sick. I've been fighting chills, cough, tired and achy body. I still have 4 1/2 days left, I don't have time to get sick. I'm hoping that returning home tonight and getting a good nights sleep in my own bed will help.
I'm mentally and emotionally worn out. It's a constant up and down.
There's an underlying emotional high that just is. I have my family here and that makes me happy.
But...
There's difficult stuff.
Hard stuff doesn't scare me. I have/do/am/can walk through crazy tough stuff with other people. It's entirely different when it's your own stuff, your own family.
Something has happened, something terrible.
My parents have spent concentrated time convincing my little brother that my middle brother is the primary reason I left the family.
As I've said before, my middle brother has some major problems. He was severely abused and has residual problems because of it. You don't come out of a home like ours unscathed.
Is he a bad guy? Yes. I cannot be around him. The last time I was left alone with him, about 8 years ago, he went into a rage and beat me. Being around him with others present causes high emotion in me and not positive emotion. Our relationship is toxic. I've accepted that. I've forgiven him. I understand him in ways he may not understand himself. I love him, but I cannot be around him.
He is NOT the reason I left the family.
My little brother has a growing resentment toward him because of the blame that's been placed on him.
I can't. I can't let him continue to believe the lie.
It breaks my heart and scares me.
There's no fear in being honest.
The truth is that my parents left me before I knew I needed to leave them. My mom hung up on me when I told her I'd become a christian and was being baptized. She never called again. Never. Symbolically, I had left the family. I'd broken the family circle of darkness. Technically, I'd left the family but she's the one who severed contact.
I have and can tell my brother that. That's not going to be sufficient.
He can't blame our brother. Hating our brother is wrong. His anger is misplaced. I want him to understand he's not to blame and to know that our brother is the way he is because of abuse. He can't help himself. I hate saying this because it implies that I believed I deserved sympathy at one time. But, there is sympathy for my brother. He's unhealthy. He's been broken by evil. He lives in brokenness and doesn't understand he needs help.
There's so much I don't know how to explain. How do I tell my little brother that him beating his daughter is what cause the dam to break for me? How do I tell him that the dad he hunts with is a rapist and child molester? How do I tell him that his kids Meemaw is a child abuser and neglected her children?
None of that would be a huge surprise to him. Except, he's either locked it away or still lives in the reality that those are all normal things.
I did both. It was all locked away. However, it took me 6 years to understand and believe that it was all wrong.
I'm stuck in an impossible position. It's not about me being right. It's not about vindication. It's not about anything besides truth. I don't want to cause any more harm, but truth needs to become real in this family.
The lies have permeated our entire family. So many that nobody knows the truth. Lies upon lies upon lies. They are being passed onto new generations.
It hurts. This may be more difficult than having no contact with any of my family.
I don't know what to do and fully believe I'm going to screw it up.
Please pray for me. Please pray for truth.
I don't want to lose my brother again and know my influence ends on Saturday and my parents' begins again on Saturday.
First of all, I think I'm getting sick. I've been fighting chills, cough, tired and achy body. I still have 4 1/2 days left, I don't have time to get sick. I'm hoping that returning home tonight and getting a good nights sleep in my own bed will help.
I'm mentally and emotionally worn out. It's a constant up and down.
There's an underlying emotional high that just is. I have my family here and that makes me happy.
But...
There's difficult stuff.
Hard stuff doesn't scare me. I have/do/am/can walk through crazy tough stuff with other people. It's entirely different when it's your own stuff, your own family.
Something has happened, something terrible.
My parents have spent concentrated time convincing my little brother that my middle brother is the primary reason I left the family.
As I've said before, my middle brother has some major problems. He was severely abused and has residual problems because of it. You don't come out of a home like ours unscathed.
Is he a bad guy? Yes. I cannot be around him. The last time I was left alone with him, about 8 years ago, he went into a rage and beat me. Being around him with others present causes high emotion in me and not positive emotion. Our relationship is toxic. I've accepted that. I've forgiven him. I understand him in ways he may not understand himself. I love him, but I cannot be around him.
He is NOT the reason I left the family.
My little brother has a growing resentment toward him because of the blame that's been placed on him.
I can't. I can't let him continue to believe the lie.
It breaks my heart and scares me.
There's no fear in being honest.
The truth is that my parents left me before I knew I needed to leave them. My mom hung up on me when I told her I'd become a christian and was being baptized. She never called again. Never. Symbolically, I had left the family. I'd broken the family circle of darkness. Technically, I'd left the family but she's the one who severed contact.
I have and can tell my brother that. That's not going to be sufficient.
He can't blame our brother. Hating our brother is wrong. His anger is misplaced. I want him to understand he's not to blame and to know that our brother is the way he is because of abuse. He can't help himself. I hate saying this because it implies that I believed I deserved sympathy at one time. But, there is sympathy for my brother. He's unhealthy. He's been broken by evil. He lives in brokenness and doesn't understand he needs help.
There's so much I don't know how to explain. How do I tell my little brother that him beating his daughter is what cause the dam to break for me? How do I tell him that the dad he hunts with is a rapist and child molester? How do I tell him that his kids Meemaw is a child abuser and neglected her children?
None of that would be a huge surprise to him. Except, he's either locked it away or still lives in the reality that those are all normal things.
I did both. It was all locked away. However, it took me 6 years to understand and believe that it was all wrong.
I'm stuck in an impossible position. It's not about me being right. It's not about vindication. It's not about anything besides truth. I don't want to cause any more harm, but truth needs to become real in this family.
The lies have permeated our entire family. So many that nobody knows the truth. Lies upon lies upon lies. They are being passed onto new generations.
It hurts. This may be more difficult than having no contact with any of my family.
I don't know what to do and fully believe I'm going to screw it up.
Please pray for me. Please pray for truth.
I don't want to lose my brother again and know my influence ends on Saturday and my parents' begins again on Saturday.
New Year Goals
I don't do resolutions. I think they are lists of ways to fail.
However, I do have a few goals for this year.
Some goals are our goals and some are mine.
1. School. I will have to go four semesters to get everything done and to get all the counseling classes that I want. I should graduate in May 2016. I have to stay focused. My personality bent will drive me to work hard and expect a 4.0. I know that's a great goal, but have to maintain balance so that school doesn't become the only thing in my life. Goal: balance.
2. Finances. This is our goal. We want to save more money each month and pay off the car. We know it's feasible. We know in the near future, we want to adopt. We want to have more savings and a larger house. Goal: budget money.
3. Prayer and bible study. I have grown in spiritual disciplines, but I want to develop better habits. I want to keep a list and spend concentrated time on it each day. Goal: grow spiritually.
4. Church. This year, I had a setback. I allowed myself to be vulnerable and honest only to recoil when I failed. It's still eating at me. I still have walls. I still haven't committed to being fully engaged again. I hate it. Participation is key in my growth. I can't get over the hump. Out of everyone involved, I'm the only one still having a tough time. I'm not holding onto any ill will at all. I'm just not able to move beyond the walls, not capable of being vulnerable. Goal: pray for the want to, the desire to not be so protective of myself.
5. Pray for my family. I tend to see my family as a lost cause or God's problem. I realize how badly they need salvation. I'm not there with my parents yet. I know that acceptance is something that I cannot control. I can petition the Lord for Him to soften their hearts. Goal: pray consistently for salvation in my brothers and their families.
6. Health. I need to have two surgeries this year. I don't want either. I fear surgery. Having the surgeries will make me feel better. I Know losing additional weight would do the same. Goal: trust God in all things.
7. Relationships. I have and am struggling with this. I don't have much in common with people around me. They are sweet and kind, but I'm incredibly lonely. My social butterfly heart isn't thriving here. I've tried with a few people and failed. Socially, I don't really fit. I'm praying, but am not sure what else I can do. Goal: continue praying that I would find everything I need in God alone.
8. Celebrate. This year is a big one for us. I turn 40 and he turns 50. Neither of us are excited about growing older. I'll be honest, we had huge plans for parties with friends and family. That's not going to happen now. Birthdays had become these difficult days that were more about stuff than creation. We need to see our value in Christ and celebrate the lives we have been given. Goal: find ways to celebrate each other and the life we have together.
I am sure there are more goals we need to set. These are the most important at this time. None of them are going to crush me if they are failures. However I know that success will bring greater joy in my life. That's motivation enough to stick with them.
However, I do have a few goals for this year.
Some goals are our goals and some are mine.
1. School. I will have to go four semesters to get everything done and to get all the counseling classes that I want. I should graduate in May 2016. I have to stay focused. My personality bent will drive me to work hard and expect a 4.0. I know that's a great goal, but have to maintain balance so that school doesn't become the only thing in my life. Goal: balance.
2. Finances. This is our goal. We want to save more money each month and pay off the car. We know it's feasible. We know in the near future, we want to adopt. We want to have more savings and a larger house. Goal: budget money.
3. Prayer and bible study. I have grown in spiritual disciplines, but I want to develop better habits. I want to keep a list and spend concentrated time on it each day. Goal: grow spiritually.
4. Church. This year, I had a setback. I allowed myself to be vulnerable and honest only to recoil when I failed. It's still eating at me. I still have walls. I still haven't committed to being fully engaged again. I hate it. Participation is key in my growth. I can't get over the hump. Out of everyone involved, I'm the only one still having a tough time. I'm not holding onto any ill will at all. I'm just not able to move beyond the walls, not capable of being vulnerable. Goal: pray for the want to, the desire to not be so protective of myself.
5. Pray for my family. I tend to see my family as a lost cause or God's problem. I realize how badly they need salvation. I'm not there with my parents yet. I know that acceptance is something that I cannot control. I can petition the Lord for Him to soften their hearts. Goal: pray consistently for salvation in my brothers and their families.
6. Health. I need to have two surgeries this year. I don't want either. I fear surgery. Having the surgeries will make me feel better. I Know losing additional weight would do the same. Goal: trust God in all things.
7. Relationships. I have and am struggling with this. I don't have much in common with people around me. They are sweet and kind, but I'm incredibly lonely. My social butterfly heart isn't thriving here. I've tried with a few people and failed. Socially, I don't really fit. I'm praying, but am not sure what else I can do. Goal: continue praying that I would find everything I need in God alone.
8. Celebrate. This year is a big one for us. I turn 40 and he turns 50. Neither of us are excited about growing older. I'll be honest, we had huge plans for parties with friends and family. That's not going to happen now. Birthdays had become these difficult days that were more about stuff than creation. We need to see our value in Christ and celebrate the lives we have been given. Goal: find ways to celebrate each other and the life we have together.
I am sure there are more goals we need to set. These are the most important at this time. None of them are going to crush me if they are failures. However I know that success will bring greater joy in my life. That's motivation enough to stick with them.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Salon Imperfections
Y'all know salons are breeding grounds for gossip, right? Salons in super small towns, well they just know everything and everybody and everything about everybody.
A couple weeks ago, I spent a couple hours in our local salon getting a fabulous new style. During that time, I also learned more about the people in the town than I ever cared to know. More specifically, I learned more about the people in church than I thought possible.
I'm not a spreader of gossip, so you're not going to get any juicy tidbits here.
However, I was delighted to learn that my church is absolutely full of imperfect people.
Don't get me wrong, I never believed that the people were sinless or completely perfect. But with only a few exceptions in my personal experience, they have seemed a little more perfect than christians I've met in the past. It wasn't from anything they said, just how well they came together and how beautifully they do church.
It's a compliment and not a backhanded one either. These people do church so well. They admit it's taken time and pain and prayer to get where they are.
I've had the opportunity to take visitors three times. Each time, the sentiment has been the same. Everyone is so nice. Everyone seems to like each other. The minister is just a regular guy. There's no intimidation, no separation of class.
My past churches didn't do church very well. One had so many changes that it struggled and the people failed. I think they've probably improved with time. The other we didn't attend long, but also had a pastor change and growing pains.
This church, been there done that and came back again.
While the minister is young, the church is solid. There is a fair mix of all ages. The preaching is true to the Word. The music is a good mix of new and old. They genuinely want people to get involved and I've not seen an overwhelming sense of self promotion and ownership.
As newbies to the church and area, we've had a few people do an excellent job of making sure we are ok in that. We've needed that. It's been hard and we've needed that kind of care. They've gone far beyond our expectations.
You can see why it's easy to say they do church more perfectly than we've ever experienced.
I'm not going to lie. Tucked away in my heart and mind, I've questioned if maybe it was a little too perfect. Keep in mind, I don't know many people well at all. I see them come to church, love each other and God and that's it. I can assume they are broken people. They don't act like the broken people I've previously seen in church, but I can make that assumption.
Given my background, it doesn't take long in getting to know me that you see my brokenness. It's a big part of my life, can't hide it. So, it's also easy to feel like the most or only broken one in a group. I don't put on a mask when it comes to that. I don't want to. Christians and non christians alike need to know the greatness of God and that church is exactly where broken people belong.
So sitting in the small town gossip palace, I had the lives of people put on display. The good, the bad, the ugly and the really ugly.
My assumptions were correct. These people aren't perfect. Id rather have learned that from them, but it quieted those questions about whether I fit in there.
Those people who do church so perfectly...
Well, they've learned the beauty of church in the midst of their brokenness. They've learned to love each other despite their struggles. They've learned to embrace the Holy Spirit and to accept and offer grace.
These imperfect people know the value of church and have become a family. It's beautiful and I love it. I love them.
A couple weeks ago, I spent a couple hours in our local salon getting a fabulous new style. During that time, I also learned more about the people in the town than I ever cared to know. More specifically, I learned more about the people in church than I thought possible.
I'm not a spreader of gossip, so you're not going to get any juicy tidbits here.
However, I was delighted to learn that my church is absolutely full of imperfect people.
Don't get me wrong, I never believed that the people were sinless or completely perfect. But with only a few exceptions in my personal experience, they have seemed a little more perfect than christians I've met in the past. It wasn't from anything they said, just how well they came together and how beautifully they do church.
It's a compliment and not a backhanded one either. These people do church so well. They admit it's taken time and pain and prayer to get where they are.
I've had the opportunity to take visitors three times. Each time, the sentiment has been the same. Everyone is so nice. Everyone seems to like each other. The minister is just a regular guy. There's no intimidation, no separation of class.
My past churches didn't do church very well. One had so many changes that it struggled and the people failed. I think they've probably improved with time. The other we didn't attend long, but also had a pastor change and growing pains.
This church, been there done that and came back again.
While the minister is young, the church is solid. There is a fair mix of all ages. The preaching is true to the Word. The music is a good mix of new and old. They genuinely want people to get involved and I've not seen an overwhelming sense of self promotion and ownership.
As newbies to the church and area, we've had a few people do an excellent job of making sure we are ok in that. We've needed that. It's been hard and we've needed that kind of care. They've gone far beyond our expectations.
You can see why it's easy to say they do church more perfectly than we've ever experienced.
I'm not going to lie. Tucked away in my heart and mind, I've questioned if maybe it was a little too perfect. Keep in mind, I don't know many people well at all. I see them come to church, love each other and God and that's it. I can assume they are broken people. They don't act like the broken people I've previously seen in church, but I can make that assumption.
Given my background, it doesn't take long in getting to know me that you see my brokenness. It's a big part of my life, can't hide it. So, it's also easy to feel like the most or only broken one in a group. I don't put on a mask when it comes to that. I don't want to. Christians and non christians alike need to know the greatness of God and that church is exactly where broken people belong.
So sitting in the small town gossip palace, I had the lives of people put on display. The good, the bad, the ugly and the really ugly.
My assumptions were correct. These people aren't perfect. Id rather have learned that from them, but it quieted those questions about whether I fit in there.
Those people who do church so perfectly...
Well, they've learned the beauty of church in the midst of their brokenness. They've learned to love each other despite their struggles. They've learned to embrace the Holy Spirit and to accept and offer grace.
These imperfect people know the value of church and have become a family. It's beautiful and I love it. I love them.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Under My Roof
They finally made it. Something I've prayed about and planned for since we moved has finally happened. My brother and his family are all here. Right this minute, they are sleeping after a long day of travel.
The flights went well. My niece did ok. They had a delay in Minnesota because the plane had to be de-iced.
We ate at Youngs Jersey Dairy. That place is good home cooking. Then we made the trek to our house. My family was quite surprised by how hilly the land was, how rural the area was and how comfortable we are in the country.
We got them here and they rested. The early morning flight and time change was effecting them all.
I had a crockpot of chili and a variety of desserts. I'm a feeder. There's an odd sense of satisfaction to have my family in my home and feeding them. It's wonderful!
I'm doing my best to live in the moment and not dwell on things. We hit some uncomfortable family conversation, so I quickly diverted us.
We have a few crazy days coming up.
Saturday, we are headed to Amish country. Sunday, I am praying we are all headed to church. We will head to Dayton to the Air Force Museum and Clifton Mill afterward. Monday, we are driving to the Rock N Roll HOF, staying the night in Canton and going to the Football HOF.
I don't want to think past that because we will be in the last half of their stay.
While I'm exhausted, I'm happy. I love these people and I love having them here. i just saw them briefly at Thanksgiving, but this is different. Don't tell anyone, but I might have wiped away happy tears the second I saw them walking toward me at the terminal.
This is my family. My only blood relatives that are in my life. I've fought hard to have healthy relationships with them and it's still a work in progress. Patience, prayer, forgiveness and love have won this fight.
The flights went well. My niece did ok. They had a delay in Minnesota because the plane had to be de-iced.
We ate at Youngs Jersey Dairy. That place is good home cooking. Then we made the trek to our house. My family was quite surprised by how hilly the land was, how rural the area was and how comfortable we are in the country.
We got them here and they rested. The early morning flight and time change was effecting them all.
I had a crockpot of chili and a variety of desserts. I'm a feeder. There's an odd sense of satisfaction to have my family in my home and feeding them. It's wonderful!
I'm doing my best to live in the moment and not dwell on things. We hit some uncomfortable family conversation, so I quickly diverted us.
We have a few crazy days coming up.
Saturday, we are headed to Amish country. Sunday, I am praying we are all headed to church. We will head to Dayton to the Air Force Museum and Clifton Mill afterward. Monday, we are driving to the Rock N Roll HOF, staying the night in Canton and going to the Football HOF.
I don't want to think past that because we will be in the last half of their stay.
While I'm exhausted, I'm happy. I love these people and I love having them here. i just saw them briefly at Thanksgiving, but this is different. Don't tell anyone, but I might have wiped away happy tears the second I saw them walking toward me at the terminal.
This is my family. My only blood relatives that are in my life. I've fought hard to have healthy relationships with them and it's still a work in progress. Patience, prayer, forgiveness and love have won this fight.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
What a Year
Wowza!
Let me repeat what I've said before...this year has been full of more stuff than any other year of our marriage.
January
We started off the year praying about our church change. At the end of January, we joined the church we had been visiting for several months. We were finally learning a new normal after my daily schedule and church change. On the 28th, we buried Kents aunt Wilda. It was a cold day and it was icy. It was also the day we got the first call saying we needed to start looking at homes in Ohio.
February
Bam! It was official. We were moving. I learned firsthand how difficult it is to tell people you are moving. We saw how different people treat you when you say you're moving. It sucks, but it's how some people deal with change. We made the long list of things that needed to be done to the house. And worked tirelessly. The month is a blur because it was working non stop and dealing with the shock. We also had a huge debt problem to work out.
March
House went on the market. Got sold. We bought Ohio house. Lost contract on KC house. House back on market. March was nuts. We were in final planning mode for the move and Kent had a start date of May 5.
April
House still on market. We said a ton of sad, teary goodbyes all month long. So many, that I was just ready to go. The Saturday before we left, my friends threw us a going away party and birthday party. Since I'd be in Ohio away from them next year for my 40th, I wanted to celebrate my 39th with them. On the 29th, we packed a few things and made the trip to Ohio. We took possession of our house and had to spend the next four days cleaning the mess that was left. Meanwhile, our stuff and car was loaded into two moving trucks.
May
Our stuff arrived. We unpacked in record time, four days. We visited our church for the first time and then a month of terrible churches. We were homesick and frustrated and lonely. Our house was still on the market with no action.
June
I started to get sick all the time. I blamed the water. We went back to the first church and found a home. Our house was not showing at all. We started to get to know our neighbors. We had two guests. One came over for dinner. She was visiting family that live an hour away. Another friend flew in from Kansas and stayed a week.
July
We spent the 4th with neighbors and it was great. We had friends stop for dinner on their way through on vacation. It finally stopped raining so much. I was really sick in the beginning of the month. The nausea subsided, but then other issues came up that made me sicker. We fired our agents in KC on the 28th and I went to the ER on the 29th.
August
I began August being tested for cancer. An uncertain diagnosis and continued illness led to a referral to a new doctor at the end of August. In the meantime, we secured a new agent for the house. By mid August, we had a contract. We were within days of foreclosure and bankruptcy.
September
On the 3rd, I had surgery. On the 5th, we made the trip back home to visit family. On the 8th and my husband's birthday, we finally sold our house. We disposed of all of our debt. It was amazing! On the 17th, I learned that my illness all summer was a pregnancy and miscarriage that had been missed. They did find suspicious cells, but the miscarriage was the problem. By the end of September, I was in a full blown meltdown.
October
We had another miscarriage in the first few weeks. During that time, we traded in the car for a Tahoe and started to meet more people. We took a vacation to Lake Erie. We spent a lot of time praying about fertility treatments and school for me.
November
I committed to Liberty University and things started to get a teeny tiny bit easier. I went to the ER twice. Once with a possible blood clot in my leg and once for a gallbladder attack. We made the trip back for Thanksgiving. We took a few days in Branson for vacation and then spent time with friends and family.
December
We didn't do a lot this month. The holidays were hard. Developing new traditions was hard. We mostly spent the month learning to praise God in the tough times. The last week of the month (now), my brother and his family visited.
It was a crazy year. Our faith was strengthened. Our love was tested. Our tolerance for adapting was forever changed. Our trust in others was renewed. Our hearts were broken. We survived by faith and with those who walked with us through it all.
I would never change any of it, but I'm glad it's over.
Let me repeat what I've said before...this year has been full of more stuff than any other year of our marriage.
January
We started off the year praying about our church change. At the end of January, we joined the church we had been visiting for several months. We were finally learning a new normal after my daily schedule and church change. On the 28th, we buried Kents aunt Wilda. It was a cold day and it was icy. It was also the day we got the first call saying we needed to start looking at homes in Ohio.
February
Bam! It was official. We were moving. I learned firsthand how difficult it is to tell people you are moving. We saw how different people treat you when you say you're moving. It sucks, but it's how some people deal with change. We made the long list of things that needed to be done to the house. And worked tirelessly. The month is a blur because it was working non stop and dealing with the shock. We also had a huge debt problem to work out.
March
House went on the market. Got sold. We bought Ohio house. Lost contract on KC house. House back on market. March was nuts. We were in final planning mode for the move and Kent had a start date of May 5.
April
House still on market. We said a ton of sad, teary goodbyes all month long. So many, that I was just ready to go. The Saturday before we left, my friends threw us a going away party and birthday party. Since I'd be in Ohio away from them next year for my 40th, I wanted to celebrate my 39th with them. On the 29th, we packed a few things and made the trip to Ohio. We took possession of our house and had to spend the next four days cleaning the mess that was left. Meanwhile, our stuff and car was loaded into two moving trucks.
May
Our stuff arrived. We unpacked in record time, four days. We visited our church for the first time and then a month of terrible churches. We were homesick and frustrated and lonely. Our house was still on the market with no action.
June
I started to get sick all the time. I blamed the water. We went back to the first church and found a home. Our house was not showing at all. We started to get to know our neighbors. We had two guests. One came over for dinner. She was visiting family that live an hour away. Another friend flew in from Kansas and stayed a week.
July
We spent the 4th with neighbors and it was great. We had friends stop for dinner on their way through on vacation. It finally stopped raining so much. I was really sick in the beginning of the month. The nausea subsided, but then other issues came up that made me sicker. We fired our agents in KC on the 28th and I went to the ER on the 29th.
August
I began August being tested for cancer. An uncertain diagnosis and continued illness led to a referral to a new doctor at the end of August. In the meantime, we secured a new agent for the house. By mid August, we had a contract. We were within days of foreclosure and bankruptcy.
September
On the 3rd, I had surgery. On the 5th, we made the trip back home to visit family. On the 8th and my husband's birthday, we finally sold our house. We disposed of all of our debt. It was amazing! On the 17th, I learned that my illness all summer was a pregnancy and miscarriage that had been missed. They did find suspicious cells, but the miscarriage was the problem. By the end of September, I was in a full blown meltdown.
October
We had another miscarriage in the first few weeks. During that time, we traded in the car for a Tahoe and started to meet more people. We took a vacation to Lake Erie. We spent a lot of time praying about fertility treatments and school for me.
November
I committed to Liberty University and things started to get a teeny tiny bit easier. I went to the ER twice. Once with a possible blood clot in my leg and once for a gallbladder attack. We made the trip back for Thanksgiving. We took a few days in Branson for vacation and then spent time with friends and family.
December
We didn't do a lot this month. The holidays were hard. Developing new traditions was hard. We mostly spent the month learning to praise God in the tough times. The last week of the month (now), my brother and his family visited.
It was a crazy year. Our faith was strengthened. Our love was tested. Our tolerance for adapting was forever changed. Our trust in others was renewed. Our hearts were broken. We survived by faith and with those who walked with us through it all.
I would never change any of it, but I'm glad it's over.
The Year According to a Dog
As I think through a review of our year, I have to consider what it's been like for our dogs.
Our dogs are like kids. Not just our kids, but they are seriously like everyone's kids.
They've had quite a year too.
We ended last year having spent a lot of time alone. Kent travelled a lot and it was hard on them. So they had some adjusting to do once he was home all the time. They slid back into their routines of knowing when to wait for him by the back door.
January was a tough month for all three. We had stayed with my inlaws for several days at Christmas and again at the end of January when my husband's aunt passed away. My inlaws have a flea problem, which meant we had a flea problem. The two girls, Lucy and Winnie, handle fleas with little more than scratching. Our boy, Gizmo "Bubba", doesn't do well at all. He gets incredibly sick. He drops weight quickly and is covered in huge sores. When he gets sick, he's prone to seizures.
In February, we were in full swing of readying the house for sell. That meant we had a lot of work to do. Lots of people in and out of the house, lots of barking, lots of behavioral problems. Bubba was thoroughly freaked out by all the machines and things out of place. They also absorbed our stress.
In March, we got the house on the market and took a trip to Branson and Ohio. We left Lucy with a friend, who spoiled her rotten. The other two did amazing with the travel and endless hours in the car.
In both March and April, we constantly had to leave for showings. That meant hours and hours and hours in the car. They were good but it started to be a chore to get them loaded cause rides were no longer fun.
Also in April, we began packing what we would be moving and preparing for the big move. Again, Bubba didn't so well at all. He freaked out a lot and had several seizures. We also found that Lucy was having some bizarre health issues that got put on the back burner.
Then came the move. The long haul in the standard can truck, 12 hours across the country. Thankfully, Lucy enjoys sleeping behind the seat. That kept us from being cramped the whole way. They did well and we only had to stop for potty/water breaks about 6 times.
We were stuck in a hotel for a while because the house was a disaster and our stuff didn't arrive for several days. They were good, but they are used to going on vacation with us.
Once we were in the house, they explored and smelled everything. Given the amount of animals that had been in the house before, I thought for sure we'd have a problem with peeing in the house. Not at all. I didn't expect the problems we did have.
We had two problems.
Winnie is little and doesn't manuveur steps well at all. At the old house, she had one step and it had taken her weeks to master that one. Here, there is a small fenced area surrounding our deck. Each side of the deck has three steps. Not was clear she was having none of it. I spent hours trying to get her to go up and down.
I would coax and beg and put her half way up or down. Nope. She was not interested. About a week of carrying her up and down the stairs, I looked out the sliding glass door and there she was. She'd finally got it. She still fumbles once in a while, but she's been good.
Our other problem lasted a bit longer. Bubba decided he didn't belong in Ohio and was determined to go back to KC. If he got into the garage, he stood by the car door patiently and refused to move. If he got outside, he headed west down the road. Every time, he would trot off the right direction. He finally adapted, but we were a little afraid he'd be one of those dogs who travels back home and ends up on the news.
Lucy's health problems got worse. She had ballooned in size and was losing hair. We were afraid the stress was taking its toll. No, tests showed she had low thyroid. Now she takes two pills a day.
Most of the summer, they were all extremely sensative to me being sick. We spent most of our days curled up on the couch sleeping.
In September, we made the long trek back to Missouri and Kansas. We had to stay at the inlaws and again had a flea problem. Probably the worst we'd ever seen. Baths and meds finally rid them of the fleas. Afterward, Bubba got incredibly sick. Bloodwork showed he had acute kidney failure. It was from the flea treatments. He's doing well now, but we were sure he'd make it. We know we can't wver knowingly expose him to fleas.
In October and November, we travelled. They did awesome!
Earlier this month, our little Winnie got sick and had horrific breath. She had several loose teeth that we could see. She had surgery and the vet removed all but 9 teeth. She's recovered but was was whiney and snuggly for a few days.
As they sit all curled around my feet, I can't help but be thankful for them. They make me laugh and smile. They drive me crazy with barking. I wouldn't have it any other way.
They've all had a tough year right along with us. I'm glad they were with us, but I hope this next year is easier. They are now at home here in Ohio and if they could talk, would probably have some crazy stories to share from the past year.
Our dogs are like kids. Not just our kids, but they are seriously like everyone's kids.
They've had quite a year too.
We ended last year having spent a lot of time alone. Kent travelled a lot and it was hard on them. So they had some adjusting to do once he was home all the time. They slid back into their routines of knowing when to wait for him by the back door.
January was a tough month for all three. We had stayed with my inlaws for several days at Christmas and again at the end of January when my husband's aunt passed away. My inlaws have a flea problem, which meant we had a flea problem. The two girls, Lucy and Winnie, handle fleas with little more than scratching. Our boy, Gizmo "Bubba", doesn't do well at all. He gets incredibly sick. He drops weight quickly and is covered in huge sores. When he gets sick, he's prone to seizures.
In February, we were in full swing of readying the house for sell. That meant we had a lot of work to do. Lots of people in and out of the house, lots of barking, lots of behavioral problems. Bubba was thoroughly freaked out by all the machines and things out of place. They also absorbed our stress.
In March, we got the house on the market and took a trip to Branson and Ohio. We left Lucy with a friend, who spoiled her rotten. The other two did amazing with the travel and endless hours in the car.
In both March and April, we constantly had to leave for showings. That meant hours and hours and hours in the car. They were good but it started to be a chore to get them loaded cause rides were no longer fun.
Also in April, we began packing what we would be moving and preparing for the big move. Again, Bubba didn't so well at all. He freaked out a lot and had several seizures. We also found that Lucy was having some bizarre health issues that got put on the back burner.
Then came the move. The long haul in the standard can truck, 12 hours across the country. Thankfully, Lucy enjoys sleeping behind the seat. That kept us from being cramped the whole way. They did well and we only had to stop for potty/water breaks about 6 times.
We were stuck in a hotel for a while because the house was a disaster and our stuff didn't arrive for several days. They were good, but they are used to going on vacation with us.
Once we were in the house, they explored and smelled everything. Given the amount of animals that had been in the house before, I thought for sure we'd have a problem with peeing in the house. Not at all. I didn't expect the problems we did have.
We had two problems.
Winnie is little and doesn't manuveur steps well at all. At the old house, she had one step and it had taken her weeks to master that one. Here, there is a small fenced area surrounding our deck. Each side of the deck has three steps. Not was clear she was having none of it. I spent hours trying to get her to go up and down.
I would coax and beg and put her half way up or down. Nope. She was not interested. About a week of carrying her up and down the stairs, I looked out the sliding glass door and there she was. She'd finally got it. She still fumbles once in a while, but she's been good.
Our other problem lasted a bit longer. Bubba decided he didn't belong in Ohio and was determined to go back to KC. If he got into the garage, he stood by the car door patiently and refused to move. If he got outside, he headed west down the road. Every time, he would trot off the right direction. He finally adapted, but we were a little afraid he'd be one of those dogs who travels back home and ends up on the news.
Lucy's health problems got worse. She had ballooned in size and was losing hair. We were afraid the stress was taking its toll. No, tests showed she had low thyroid. Now she takes two pills a day.
Most of the summer, they were all extremely sensative to me being sick. We spent most of our days curled up on the couch sleeping.
In September, we made the long trek back to Missouri and Kansas. We had to stay at the inlaws and again had a flea problem. Probably the worst we'd ever seen. Baths and meds finally rid them of the fleas. Afterward, Bubba got incredibly sick. Bloodwork showed he had acute kidney failure. It was from the flea treatments. He's doing well now, but we were sure he'd make it. We know we can't wver knowingly expose him to fleas.
In October and November, we travelled. They did awesome!
Earlier this month, our little Winnie got sick and had horrific breath. She had several loose teeth that we could see. She had surgery and the vet removed all but 9 teeth. She's recovered but was was whiney and snuggly for a few days.
As they sit all curled around my feet, I can't help but be thankful for them. They make me laugh and smile. They drive me crazy with barking. I wouldn't have it any other way.
They've all had a tough year right along with us. I'm glad they were with us, but I hope this next year is easier. They are now at home here in Ohio and if they could talk, would probably have some crazy stories to share from the past year.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Finally Here
Today is the day. A day that I've been praying about since we left KC.
We bought plane tickets for my niece and nephew this summer and they didn't come. I was devastated because I thought that's what I needed at the time.
In fact, God's plan is always infinitely better.
My nephew fell. He ended up being fine, but had to stay at home for tests. I was sick and ended up at the hospital that week. It was bad timing.
The best pet of the failed trip, it allowed for this trip and all of them coming to Ohio.
I'm so incredibly anxious. Not for the typical reasons. I'm worried that I won't have the stamina.
This is their vacation and they will want to go.
I'm low key and enjoy relaxing. We had a family visit in August and I thought I was going to implode. We went non stop. Each day was packed with activities and tons of walking. I wore a pedometer. We walked 10 miles a day. Slow, painful walking through crowds and museums. When they left, I felt crippled.
I can't help but be concerned about that. It's not that I'm unfit. It's that mentally, I don't go at that pace any more.
Since we have an entire week, hopefully it will be fine and we can have downtime.
I also worry about keeping them happy. I know that's a common problem for anyone having guests. It always is for me. I work so hard to make sure everyone else is happy that I forget to enjoy myself.
This trip has taken a lot of prayer, planning and patience. I know with the same, the next week will be wonderful.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
A Season of Thanksgiving
I could focus my post for today on the sadness I feel, we both feel. We know it's there. If you read much of my blog, you know it's there.
It's the usual sadness compounded by being alone here in Ohio, the growing list of changes we've had this year and some significant loss.
I'm not going there. I'm not restating nor dwelling on the obvious.
So much that has happened this year has given me a deeper understanding of thanksgiving.
I know, I've mentioned this many times before so bare with me.
The two miscarriages were hard and still are. It's the first one that has changed me the most. Not the loss, but the experience.
The miscarriage started the end of June and wasn't diagnosed/stopped/removed until the first of September.
My body went through hell during that six weeks. My white blood cell count went up while my hemoglobin plummeted. I was in excruciating pain. My body temperature dropped. My heart rate skyrocketed.
When I had surgery in September, my heart rate was 284 and I had tachycardia. My body temp dropped to 94 degrees. My blood pressure was high and my hemoglobin was 6.9. In recovery, my body normalized and my hemoglobin started to raise.
In recovery, my nurse said I was very sick and my doctor had saved my life. He said nobody realized how sick I was and I could have died. I took that only somewhat seriously. That was until I got a call from my doctor the next day. He said he was certain about halfway through the surgery that he was going to lose me. He was sure he could get my body temp up or my heart rate stabilized.
At my follow up visit, he explained everything in detail. It made sense, but left me with a lot to think about. Because I went straight into a meltdown over the miscarriage, it took me a while to consider everything else.
I could have died. I had a doctor who thought he was going to lose me in surgery. It's taken me a while to wrap my head around that completely.
The whole experience has changed how I see life. I've become a little less anxious and a little more willing to be vulnerable. I'm a lot more willing to try things and have let it push me toward the future.
The biggest change has been in my heart.
I am infinitely more thankful than I ever have been before. I'm even learning to be thankful in the midst of struggle and not just after.
I'm thankful for what I have and know it's not because of what I've done or that I'm deserving. It's all temporary gifts. I'm so much more thankful for people, their sacrifice, example and correction. I'm more thankful for time and want to use it in ways that glorify God.
I've become more thankful for my savior than I ever have been. I often read about or meditate on the death of Jesus. His sacrifice has become so real for me. I find myself laying out my sin and grieving over all the little things that Jesus had to die for. I have developed a profound amount of thankfulness for Jesus.
It hasn't been just my experience alone. This year has been a tough year for friends. One of my friends is losing a battle with cancer. A 24 year old friend and daughter of friends passed away this year after multiple health issues. Another friend was given a life ending diagnoses. Several friends have suffered losses of parents, spouses and unborn children.
They've all praised God before, through and after. Their faithfulness has been a constant encouragement to me. I find myself thanking God with them and for them.
After we are born, each day we live is one day closer to death and eternal life for believers. It's easy to be sad about death and excited for our eternal home.
As Christians, we do things a little backwards from the world. The world is excited about life that comes after birth. Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus because we are so excited about the death.
This Christmas, I am abundantly thankful for the birth of Christ and so much more. I'm thankful He was born to die for me.
It's the usual sadness compounded by being alone here in Ohio, the growing list of changes we've had this year and some significant loss.
I'm not going there. I'm not restating nor dwelling on the obvious.
So much that has happened this year has given me a deeper understanding of thanksgiving.
I know, I've mentioned this many times before so bare with me.
The two miscarriages were hard and still are. It's the first one that has changed me the most. Not the loss, but the experience.
The miscarriage started the end of June and wasn't diagnosed/stopped/removed until the first of September.
My body went through hell during that six weeks. My white blood cell count went up while my hemoglobin plummeted. I was in excruciating pain. My body temperature dropped. My heart rate skyrocketed.
When I had surgery in September, my heart rate was 284 and I had tachycardia. My body temp dropped to 94 degrees. My blood pressure was high and my hemoglobin was 6.9. In recovery, my body normalized and my hemoglobin started to raise.
In recovery, my nurse said I was very sick and my doctor had saved my life. He said nobody realized how sick I was and I could have died. I took that only somewhat seriously. That was until I got a call from my doctor the next day. He said he was certain about halfway through the surgery that he was going to lose me. He was sure he could get my body temp up or my heart rate stabilized.
At my follow up visit, he explained everything in detail. It made sense, but left me with a lot to think about. Because I went straight into a meltdown over the miscarriage, it took me a while to consider everything else.
I could have died. I had a doctor who thought he was going to lose me in surgery. It's taken me a while to wrap my head around that completely.
The whole experience has changed how I see life. I've become a little less anxious and a little more willing to be vulnerable. I'm a lot more willing to try things and have let it push me toward the future.
The biggest change has been in my heart.
I am infinitely more thankful than I ever have been before. I'm even learning to be thankful in the midst of struggle and not just after.
I'm thankful for what I have and know it's not because of what I've done or that I'm deserving. It's all temporary gifts. I'm so much more thankful for people, their sacrifice, example and correction. I'm more thankful for time and want to use it in ways that glorify God.
I've become more thankful for my savior than I ever have been. I often read about or meditate on the death of Jesus. His sacrifice has become so real for me. I find myself laying out my sin and grieving over all the little things that Jesus had to die for. I have developed a profound amount of thankfulness for Jesus.
It hasn't been just my experience alone. This year has been a tough year for friends. One of my friends is losing a battle with cancer. A 24 year old friend and daughter of friends passed away this year after multiple health issues. Another friend was given a life ending diagnoses. Several friends have suffered losses of parents, spouses and unborn children.
They've all praised God before, through and after. Their faithfulness has been a constant encouragement to me. I find myself thanking God with them and for them.
After we are born, each day we live is one day closer to death and eternal life for believers. It's easy to be sad about death and excited for our eternal home.
As Christians, we do things a little backwards from the world. The world is excited about life that comes after birth. Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus because we are so excited about the death.
This Christmas, I am abundantly thankful for the birth of Christ and so much more. I'm thankful He was born to die for me.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
An Old Picture
Its Christmas Eve. Life is kinda sucking right now. It's just hard.
This morning, I came across a box shoved on a shelf. I obviously didn't know where to put it when we moved.
I opened it to find cross stitched towels given to me by my grandma about eight years ago. On the top were two pictures of an elderly lady holding me.
I've no clue who the lady is, but she looks happy to be holding me. I'm sure she is a great or great great grandma. I'm still researching. It's not like I can call up my parents and ask.
Finding this picture is what I needed today. I needed to see that someone held me as a baby and looked at me with love.
That wasn't how I remember my childhood. At one time, I went through all my old pictures and could not find one where I looked happy or there was an adult who looked loving. At the time, it broke my heart and validated that I wasn't loved.
I often forget, probably intentionally repress, that I called my my mom. I wanted to know if she would acknowledge that I was her daughter. Friends from back home had told me that she claimed to have two sons and no other children. I needed to know from her if she still claimed to be my mom.
She didn't. She said I was dead to her. I'd had the courage to call, but not the strength to handle the truth. With her reality slapping me in the face, I asked a question I wish I hadn't.
I asked her why she had me, kept me if she wasn't going to claim me. Her answer still makes me physically ill.
She said she never wanted kids. She claimed that my dad forced her to have children so he could molest them. She went on to say I had ruined her life. I had been such a terrible child that I caused my dad to be mean. She told me I was dead to her and to never call again.
I collapsed into a ball on the floor. I didn't have tears. I was writhing in pain, an excruciating pain in the pit of my stomach that radiated all over my body.
At that moment, I knew there would never be a reconciliation between us. Any mother who could so easily emotionally destroy her own daughter was not anyone I could ever be near.
That's the kind of thing that settles in this time of year. That truth is what hurts so badly when I see families celebrating together. My mom never wanted me, blamed me for what my dad had done, and has hatred toward me that is beyond comprehension. My dad only wanted my brothers and I to subject us to the evil he had hiding inside him. How could I not think of that during a family oriented time of year?
So, it soothed a small part of my aching heart to find this picture. At some point, I was shown love and affection. It may have been minimal and I don't remember it, but I'm glad to know it happened. Every baby should be loved, even if it's just once.
Quirkiness
Have you ever thought about your quirks? Where they came from? Why they started or continued? If other people do the same thing?
As a general rule, I favor my dad's side of the family. Not the evil or rage! My dad's family is crazy talented and incredibly intelligent. My mom's side have no real positive attributes. I suppose that is where I got my propensity for foul language. So, it's easy to say I favor them. Physically and medically, I tend to favor them as well.
My mom's side is definitely quirky. I suppose maybe I get that from them too.
My grandma was probably the worst. She would never let us walk on the opposite of anything, poles, tables, etc. She didn't think she could get dressed before drinking coffee. She believed if you vacuumed everyday, you'd never get sick. Her lipstick and nail polish had to match all the time and had to be a shade of purple. There was more. Lots more.
Last time I was around my mom, I could see she was starting to be a little like her mom. My mom had her own quirks. She thought powder was a substitute for deodorant. She clicked her jaw when she lied. Some of the others are just too gross to mention.
Over the years, and with my husband's help, I've identified a lot of my quirks.
What I mean is that he's pointed them out to me and I've changed what I could. In true OCD/type A personality fashion, I've analyzed them all.
My husband is good, he really only has one. When he is stressed or nervous, his feet two the floor. It's crazy that I've known him for over 20 years and I never knew that until we moved.
Me on the other hand, my husband would tell you that I have a ton.
I can't be in a dark room. I freeze, scream for the lights to be turned on and start to shake uncontrollably. This is probably a little bit more PTSD than a quirk, but it happens even when I know I'm safe. This one is probably the easiest to understand. Darkness = chaos.
When I step out of the shower, I must step on a towel. This is one that drives my husband crazy. I've stood and screamed at him to bring me towels before. If I have to step on the floor barefoot, I have to retake the shower. Why? Because when I was a kid, our bathroom had carpet. The carpet was never clean and often crawling with bugs.
Again with the shower, I have a routine that I must follow. If I accidentally do something out of turn, I start from the beginning. Why? Because when I was a kid, I wasn't allowed to use soaps. When I moved out and had my own, I developed a routine to never forget anything. It's not the easiest thing to teach yourself personal hygiene at 18 years old.
I cannot touch cardboard or Popsicle sticks. If I do, I cringe, get goosebumps and even gag. No explanation for this one. I don't know why.
There's rarely a time I will drink everything in a glass or bottle. Why? Well this one is just common sense. Everything that shouldn't be in your drink ends up on the bottom.
I have to put my left shoe on first.
I wipe my mouth after a kiss from my husband. He's not slobbery, I don't like mouth germs. I tell him that I'm rubbing it in.
I have to sit on the right of my husband except in a movie theater.
I don't like odd numbers. Everything must be divisible by 2. If a package of socks has 3 pair, I buy 2 packages. It drives me nuts that we have three dogs. That's why I tell my husband 2 are mine and 1 is his.
Things have to be symmetrical. That's the only time odd numbers are acceptable.
I read everything twice. That's probably more habit from the reading comprehension problem I've had in the past.
I'm sure there's more.
The other day, I was talking to a friend about quirks. I was a little bummed that my list is a bit long. My friend said to me, "Sweetie, it's all part of who you are and I love you quirks and all."
What she said really reiterated what has been on my heart a lot lately. We all have quirks. Some are just there. Others come out of our stuff. All of them are part of who we are. I need to accept people, quirks and all. My love for people can't be conditional on how they look, their uniqueness or quirks. I need to be kinder to those who are different than me because I am different from them and desperately seek the same acceptance and love.
As a general rule, I favor my dad's side of the family. Not the evil or rage! My dad's family is crazy talented and incredibly intelligent. My mom's side have no real positive attributes. I suppose that is where I got my propensity for foul language. So, it's easy to say I favor them. Physically and medically, I tend to favor them as well.
My mom's side is definitely quirky. I suppose maybe I get that from them too.
My grandma was probably the worst. She would never let us walk on the opposite of anything, poles, tables, etc. She didn't think she could get dressed before drinking coffee. She believed if you vacuumed everyday, you'd never get sick. Her lipstick and nail polish had to match all the time and had to be a shade of purple. There was more. Lots more.
Last time I was around my mom, I could see she was starting to be a little like her mom. My mom had her own quirks. She thought powder was a substitute for deodorant. She clicked her jaw when she lied. Some of the others are just too gross to mention.
Over the years, and with my husband's help, I've identified a lot of my quirks.
What I mean is that he's pointed them out to me and I've changed what I could. In true OCD/type A personality fashion, I've analyzed them all.
My husband is good, he really only has one. When he is stressed or nervous, his feet two the floor. It's crazy that I've known him for over 20 years and I never knew that until we moved.
Me on the other hand, my husband would tell you that I have a ton.
I can't be in a dark room. I freeze, scream for the lights to be turned on and start to shake uncontrollably. This is probably a little bit more PTSD than a quirk, but it happens even when I know I'm safe. This one is probably the easiest to understand. Darkness = chaos.
When I step out of the shower, I must step on a towel. This is one that drives my husband crazy. I've stood and screamed at him to bring me towels before. If I have to step on the floor barefoot, I have to retake the shower. Why? Because when I was a kid, our bathroom had carpet. The carpet was never clean and often crawling with bugs.
Again with the shower, I have a routine that I must follow. If I accidentally do something out of turn, I start from the beginning. Why? Because when I was a kid, I wasn't allowed to use soaps. When I moved out and had my own, I developed a routine to never forget anything. It's not the easiest thing to teach yourself personal hygiene at 18 years old.
I cannot touch cardboard or Popsicle sticks. If I do, I cringe, get goosebumps and even gag. No explanation for this one. I don't know why.
There's rarely a time I will drink everything in a glass or bottle. Why? Well this one is just common sense. Everything that shouldn't be in your drink ends up on the bottom.
I have to put my left shoe on first.
I wipe my mouth after a kiss from my husband. He's not slobbery, I don't like mouth germs. I tell him that I'm rubbing it in.
I have to sit on the right of my husband except in a movie theater.
I don't like odd numbers. Everything must be divisible by 2. If a package of socks has 3 pair, I buy 2 packages. It drives me nuts that we have three dogs. That's why I tell my husband 2 are mine and 1 is his.
Things have to be symmetrical. That's the only time odd numbers are acceptable.
I read everything twice. That's probably more habit from the reading comprehension problem I've had in the past.
I'm sure there's more.
The other day, I was talking to a friend about quirks. I was a little bummed that my list is a bit long. My friend said to me, "Sweetie, it's all part of who you are and I love you quirks and all."
What she said really reiterated what has been on my heart a lot lately. We all have quirks. Some are just there. Others come out of our stuff. All of them are part of who we are. I need to accept people, quirks and all. My love for people can't be conditional on how they look, their uniqueness or quirks. I need to be kinder to those who are different than me because I am different from them and desperately seek the same acceptance and love.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
First Impressions
Today I realized that I've been carrying a fully composed blogpost in my head for two months. I was certain I'd typed it out, but no.
While talking with someone I'd met since we moved, they shared their first impression of me.
This is someone who I shared with very quickly my testimony. It was appropriately timed so that they could adequately talk through life with me. This is a person I trust and respect.
This person shares with me that before they knew me very well, their impression of me was that I was full of myself. That's a direct quote. For the record, this person doesn't remember saying this.
I do. It crushed me.
After the conversation, I came home and had a full blown rant session with my husband. I was hurt and angry. How could someone have such a negative first impression of me?
I consider myself a kind, soft, tender hearted person. Why would anyone think I was full of myself?
I won't lie, I went through a short period of really not liking this person. It was short lived because I soon spent time searching my heart.
When someone says setting about me to me, I take that seriously. If they are willing to share how they saw me or felt about me, then I at least need to respect that. It's completely different from when you heard from a third party. That's just gossip and doesn't phase me.
I had to get real with myself. What had I done to give that impression? Had I potentially been that way with others? Do I need to apologize? What do I need to change so that others don't see me that way?
The hard truth was that I probably did come across that way. We came from a different area. I was a city girl who had fully embraced the suburbanite attitude. I can honestly say that I was never comfortable with that, but it was a method of survival. It was the only way to fit in.
When we got here, I was angry. Nothing was the same. All those luxuries at my immediate disposal were no more. No Target or Starbucks or Trader Joes or multiple grocery stores. I was a city girl in shock.
Even though the people were nice, so incredibly nice, my heart wasn't good toward them. Man, it sucks to admit that. These were country people and I didn't fit in. Furthermore, our plan was to only be here two years. So, I had no intentions of making friends. Just doing my time and running back to KC.
I've gotten used to driving for luxuries. Despite my plan, God did a work in my heart and I quickly fell in love with the area and people. I went from making an exit plan to begging my husband to stay beyond our two years.
Because of previous church hurt, I know that I walked into our church with a chip on my shoulder. I wasn't interested in being hurt and had a ton of walls protecting me.
But it took the Lord opening my eyes and changing my heart. He had to teach me that this church would be different. He had to heal the broken past experiences and I had to forgive.
Yea, it's highly probable that I came across full of myself.
That's what truly crushed me. That multiple people got a first impression of me that wasn't at all who I was. What they saw was the broken, hurting, angry me who was in full self protection mode.
I know there's more than one person and I'll have to apologize to each one of them as appropriate. I also have to have patience and grace while they learn who I really am.
There's a big piece of how to change that first impression. I have to allow them to see the real me. I have to accept that it may take some work on my part since I'm the one who gave a false first impression.
More than anything, I have to be cautious. I know my natural propensity is to be self protective. If I'm not willing to be vulnerable and show that softer side of myself, nobody will ever see it.
I've had to be proactive when meeting people. Smiling, listening instead of speaking and offering encouragement where I can. It's hard to stay self aware, but I've tried.
What was said did hurt, it stung. The person who said it followed the statement by saying that they had gotten to know me better, heard my story and didn't believe that's who I really was.
It's never easy to hear truth about yourself, especially when it's not favorable. However, when it comes from a trustworthy and respectable person, it needs to be heard.
It's hard to admit, but I'm glad that was shared with me. It led to a lot of prayer, self awareness and change in my life.
I jokingly said today that I'd forgiven this person. I had already apologized a while back. The truth is that I should have thanked the person for being honest with me.
While talking with someone I'd met since we moved, they shared their first impression of me.
This is someone who I shared with very quickly my testimony. It was appropriately timed so that they could adequately talk through life with me. This is a person I trust and respect.
This person shares with me that before they knew me very well, their impression of me was that I was full of myself. That's a direct quote. For the record, this person doesn't remember saying this.
I do. It crushed me.
After the conversation, I came home and had a full blown rant session with my husband. I was hurt and angry. How could someone have such a negative first impression of me?
I consider myself a kind, soft, tender hearted person. Why would anyone think I was full of myself?
I won't lie, I went through a short period of really not liking this person. It was short lived because I soon spent time searching my heart.
When someone says setting about me to me, I take that seriously. If they are willing to share how they saw me or felt about me, then I at least need to respect that. It's completely different from when you heard from a third party. That's just gossip and doesn't phase me.
I had to get real with myself. What had I done to give that impression? Had I potentially been that way with others? Do I need to apologize? What do I need to change so that others don't see me that way?
The hard truth was that I probably did come across that way. We came from a different area. I was a city girl who had fully embraced the suburbanite attitude. I can honestly say that I was never comfortable with that, but it was a method of survival. It was the only way to fit in.
When we got here, I was angry. Nothing was the same. All those luxuries at my immediate disposal were no more. No Target or Starbucks or Trader Joes or multiple grocery stores. I was a city girl in shock.
Even though the people were nice, so incredibly nice, my heart wasn't good toward them. Man, it sucks to admit that. These were country people and I didn't fit in. Furthermore, our plan was to only be here two years. So, I had no intentions of making friends. Just doing my time and running back to KC.
I've gotten used to driving for luxuries. Despite my plan, God did a work in my heart and I quickly fell in love with the area and people. I went from making an exit plan to begging my husband to stay beyond our two years.
Because of previous church hurt, I know that I walked into our church with a chip on my shoulder. I wasn't interested in being hurt and had a ton of walls protecting me.
But it took the Lord opening my eyes and changing my heart. He had to teach me that this church would be different. He had to heal the broken past experiences and I had to forgive.
Yea, it's highly probable that I came across full of myself.
That's what truly crushed me. That multiple people got a first impression of me that wasn't at all who I was. What they saw was the broken, hurting, angry me who was in full self protection mode.
I know there's more than one person and I'll have to apologize to each one of them as appropriate. I also have to have patience and grace while they learn who I really am.
There's a big piece of how to change that first impression. I have to allow them to see the real me. I have to accept that it may take some work on my part since I'm the one who gave a false first impression.
More than anything, I have to be cautious. I know my natural propensity is to be self protective. If I'm not willing to be vulnerable and show that softer side of myself, nobody will ever see it.
I've had to be proactive when meeting people. Smiling, listening instead of speaking and offering encouragement where I can. It's hard to stay self aware, but I've tried.
What was said did hurt, it stung. The person who said it followed the statement by saying that they had gotten to know me better, heard my story and didn't believe that's who I really was.
It's never easy to hear truth about yourself, especially when it's not favorable. However, when it comes from a trustworthy and respectable person, it needs to be heard.
It's hard to admit, but I'm glad that was shared with me. It led to a lot of prayer, self awareness and change in my life.
I jokingly said today that I'd forgiven this person. I had already apologized a while back. The truth is that I should have thanked the person for being honest with me.
Fasting
I have found that a lot of Christians are not comfortable with fasting.
It's definitely something people are uncomfortable discussing. We aren't supposed to be boastful about it. It's a personal thing, not something we do to check off the list.
What I've learned is that people are uncomfortable because they don't understand it. They get confused about what it's about.
The general thinking is that you give up food for a period of time. That scares some people.
Let me give you me 10 second explanation and how it was taught to me.
Fasting is giving up food or more importantly something that you are tied to. That could be a cup of coffee or electronics or an activity you enjoy. You give it up for an extended period of time. The purpose is to, instead of go for that thing, you go to the Lord in prayer. It also clears your mind of that thing and allows you to listen to the Lords leading.
Fasting is done for lots of reasons. Personally, I've done it when I've felt far away from the Lord. Probably the most common reason for me is when there's something in life that needs a lot of prayer or decision.
By giving up that thing I want, I purposefully spend time in prayer about whatever is going on. I've done it here with various church things. I've done it while making the final decision for school. I did it when I waited on my cancer test results and when I thought I was going to die this summer.
Probably the most powerful fasting I've ever done was over a year ago. When Kent interviewed with Honeywell, I fasted for several days. I gave up my iPad, Facebook, email, texting and ate just enough. During that time, I prayed for my husband. I never prayed for him to get the job. I prayed for God's will to be done and for Kent's job to change or become more tolerable.
I knew when he wasn't offered the job that it was firmly God's plan. I knew without a doubt.
Then a few months later, we found out his job was changing and we were moving. I never questioned that either. I knew without a doubt, God wanted us in Ohio.
If I'd never fasted, I'm not sure I'd have been so confident, so peaceful about the move.
If fasting isn't a part of your prayer life, I invite you to try it. Ask if you have questions. I promise, you won't regret it. You may find it is what's missing from your prayer life.
Side note: Oddly enough, this subject came up in Sunday School about a week after this was originally written. It reinforced that this subject is difficult for people to discuss.
Side note: Oddly enough, this subject came up in Sunday School about a week after this was originally written. It reinforced that this subject is difficult for people to discuss.
Monday, December 22, 2014
First Christmas
I know multiple posts in multiple days. There's a good explanation. This is my outlet. This is the only place that I can safely put into words what's in my heart.
It's taken me hours of laying here agonizing over why I'm so full of stuff.
I'm happy here. I'm healthier than I've ever been. I've never been so immersed in the Word and never so solid in my faith.
So why is my mood spiraling?
It's Christmas. It is my first Christmas in seven years to not have a full support system. By that, I don't have people to talk through the stuff with. I don't have people who have walked with me long enough to know that I will smile and look normal while I crumble inside. I don't have people who know how badly I need to feel loved or how much a hug means to me this time of year.
To be fair, there are a couple people who probably have a clue or are getting to know me well enough that they'll eventually learn these things. They are genuine, caring people who have and would listen to my hurting heart if I was honest with them. I trust them, but am still fearful of judgement.
So there it is...
The emotion that I've been so afraid would hit my husband has settled in for me.
I knew this holiday would be hard, but I didn't expect this. The normal struggle is compounded by our move and the difficulty of this year. The discouragement and amount of fighting with my husband isn't helping either.
Believe me, I don't want it. I don't want to be depressed with my brother coming.
I hate the word. My depression is always circumstantial. The past few years haven't been so bad. I've had all those things I listed above and I made it through little more than a couple days of high emotion.
I'm not even sure what to do.
When I got so sick this summer, I did much the same thing. I was full of fear and emotion. Nobody knew. When you lay around day after day feeling like you are going to die, because you really are dying...well I kept that all to myself. There wasn't anyone to talk to and if I had someone, I knew they'd think I was crazy.
Ok, so not the healthiest way to cope, but it's all I have right now.
Those relationships I had, the support system, I needed them every year but that need grew less and less each year. I didn't need them because I was being prideful and thought I could handle things alone. I didn't them as much because I was healthier.
This year has nearly broken me over and over, I need it this year.
I hope when next year rolls around, things will be easier.
For now and like the rest of the year, it's just hard.
It's taken me hours of laying here agonizing over why I'm so full of stuff.
I'm happy here. I'm healthier than I've ever been. I've never been so immersed in the Word and never so solid in my faith.
So why is my mood spiraling?
It's Christmas. It is my first Christmas in seven years to not have a full support system. By that, I don't have people to talk through the stuff with. I don't have people who have walked with me long enough to know that I will smile and look normal while I crumble inside. I don't have people who know how badly I need to feel loved or how much a hug means to me this time of year.
To be fair, there are a couple people who probably have a clue or are getting to know me well enough that they'll eventually learn these things. They are genuine, caring people who have and would listen to my hurting heart if I was honest with them. I trust them, but am still fearful of judgement.
So there it is...
The emotion that I've been so afraid would hit my husband has settled in for me.
I knew this holiday would be hard, but I didn't expect this. The normal struggle is compounded by our move and the difficulty of this year. The discouragement and amount of fighting with my husband isn't helping either.
Believe me, I don't want it. I don't want to be depressed with my brother coming.
I hate the word. My depression is always circumstantial. The past few years haven't been so bad. I've had all those things I listed above and I made it through little more than a couple days of high emotion.
I'm not even sure what to do.
When I got so sick this summer, I did much the same thing. I was full of fear and emotion. Nobody knew. When you lay around day after day feeling like you are going to die, because you really are dying...well I kept that all to myself. There wasn't anyone to talk to and if I had someone, I knew they'd think I was crazy.
Ok, so not the healthiest way to cope, but it's all I have right now.
Those relationships I had, the support system, I needed them every year but that need grew less and less each year. I didn't need them because I was being prideful and thought I could handle things alone. I didn't them as much because I was healthier.
This year has nearly broken me over and over, I need it this year.
I hope when next year rolls around, things will be easier.
For now and like the rest of the year, it's just hard.
As Far Away as the Stars
As we sat in the hot tub tonight, I counted the stars. We never saw stars in KC, it was too light.
While I counted, I remembered another time long ago.
I rarely acted out as a child. Rarely talked back. Never got defensive. I knew the penalties and it wasn't worth it. It didn't take much to set my dad off. There was often punishment without explanation and the punishment never fit the crime.
Christmas night of my 4th grade year, I remember asking if I could please have the orange from the stocking at my grandmas. I'd walked from home to each of my grandparents houses and wasn't allowed to eat much that day. I was hungry.
My dad lost it. After he beat me, he pushed me onto the front porch in my skimpy tshirt and locked the door. It was a mild winter night, thankfully.
He often locked me outside after beatings and sometimes without clothing. Winter, summer, didn't matter. It's why I don't have feeling in some of my toes.
I always his behind the holly bushes. They stuck me, but were the only thing tall enough to hide behind. I hid whether I was clothed or not. I was afraid of the dark and they gave me some sense of safety.
This particular night, I laid out on the sidewalk and looked at the stars. As I counted the stars, I remember thinking that if I died, I'd probably go as far away as those stars. That was absolutely what I wanted at the time.
At 9 years old, I wanted to die. I wanted to escape the hell I was living. If I were dead, nobody could hurt me again.
Until daylight, I laid there thinking of all the ways I could try to die.
When my brother let me in that morning, I went straight to the kitchen cabinet and took 6 Tylenol. I didn't say they were good plans, I was only 9.
As I was falling asleep, I didn't care that I thought I was dying. I was happy. Obviously, I woke up several hours later with an upset stomach.
That was the first of many suicide attempts as a child. I tried a lot of things. I always got sick or slept a long time, but obviously never died. I did have one time as a teen that a cousin did have to do CPR to get me to breathe again.
Thinking back on that time makes me so incredibly sad. It's sad that a child would be so hurt that they would try to commit suicide at 9 years old. Most kids haven't even dealt with the death of a relative at that age. It makes me sad that a 9 year old would want to escape life that badly. It's sad that a 9 year old didn't have love to hang onto.
I'm thankful now. In all those times, I never cared about the future. If I'd succeeded, I'd never seen the life I have now and experienced any healing. I'd never learned what true love was. I'd never have seen the glory of God.
I know all the things I did. There's no scientific reason why I survived every single time. The same is true for every time I was shot at or stabbed or tortured or hung or strangled. There's no earthly explanation for how I survived it all.
I've been told I survived because I was strong and resilient. I disagree. I survived because that wasn't the plan for my life. It wasn't God's plan for my life.
So tonight, as I thought through all of those times, I tearfully praised God for a plan that wasn't mine.
While I counted, I remembered another time long ago.
I rarely acted out as a child. Rarely talked back. Never got defensive. I knew the penalties and it wasn't worth it. It didn't take much to set my dad off. There was often punishment without explanation and the punishment never fit the crime.
Christmas night of my 4th grade year, I remember asking if I could please have the orange from the stocking at my grandmas. I'd walked from home to each of my grandparents houses and wasn't allowed to eat much that day. I was hungry.
My dad lost it. After he beat me, he pushed me onto the front porch in my skimpy tshirt and locked the door. It was a mild winter night, thankfully.
He often locked me outside after beatings and sometimes without clothing. Winter, summer, didn't matter. It's why I don't have feeling in some of my toes.
I always his behind the holly bushes. They stuck me, but were the only thing tall enough to hide behind. I hid whether I was clothed or not. I was afraid of the dark and they gave me some sense of safety.
This particular night, I laid out on the sidewalk and looked at the stars. As I counted the stars, I remember thinking that if I died, I'd probably go as far away as those stars. That was absolutely what I wanted at the time.
At 9 years old, I wanted to die. I wanted to escape the hell I was living. If I were dead, nobody could hurt me again.
Until daylight, I laid there thinking of all the ways I could try to die.
When my brother let me in that morning, I went straight to the kitchen cabinet and took 6 Tylenol. I didn't say they were good plans, I was only 9.
As I was falling asleep, I didn't care that I thought I was dying. I was happy. Obviously, I woke up several hours later with an upset stomach.
That was the first of many suicide attempts as a child. I tried a lot of things. I always got sick or slept a long time, but obviously never died. I did have one time as a teen that a cousin did have to do CPR to get me to breathe again.
Thinking back on that time makes me so incredibly sad. It's sad that a child would be so hurt that they would try to commit suicide at 9 years old. Most kids haven't even dealt with the death of a relative at that age. It makes me sad that a 9 year old would want to escape life that badly. It's sad that a 9 year old didn't have love to hang onto.
I'm thankful now. In all those times, I never cared about the future. If I'd succeeded, I'd never seen the life I have now and experienced any healing. I'd never learned what true love was. I'd never have seen the glory of God.
I know all the things I did. There's no scientific reason why I survived every single time. The same is true for every time I was shot at or stabbed or tortured or hung or strangled. There's no earthly explanation for how I survived it all.
I've been told I survived because I was strong and resilient. I disagree. I survived because that wasn't the plan for my life. It wasn't God's plan for my life.
So tonight, as I thought through all of those times, I tearfully praised God for a plan that wasn't mine.
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