All About the Dogs

Since I've been sick, I hadn't made much of a plan for today. But that's usually how the day ends up going in a direction you hadn't planned. 

We've been considering a fourth dog for quite some time. We have lots of space and availability. We also have aging dogs and one that has several health issues. So, we've been searching sale sites and Craigslist for a while. We'd found lots of dogs 2 years and over. 

Last night, on a whim, I checked on a lady who had three Morkie Poos. It just so happened that we were out and about when she was available to show them to us today. Oh my goodness! I'd have taken all three. They were so cute. All boys, one black and white, another black and brown and one apricot. 

We finally decided on the apricot one and will get him in a few weeks. We are super excited, but know the potty training will be stressful. Hopefully with three other dogs, it will go smoothly. The last time we potty trained was 8 years ago. 

After we got home, it was time for spring haircuts for the rest of the bunch. Thankfully it was nice out and we could shave them in the garage. They are usually good and we can groom all three in about two hours. 

While I was grooming the smallest, I noticed her scars. She has a huge, deep scar that runs all around her torso and is especially deep on the sides. She came to us that way. In fact, the cut was still scabbed when we got her. The wounds were so deep that it took nearly two years for it to be completely healed. 

We don't know what happened. She was a rescue. She'd had three litters of pups and was severely abused. She was/is timid with men and strangers. It's taken her three years to occasionally go to my husband when he calls for her. 

She knows though and I think she remembers. She does something funny when I touch or am shaving her scarred sides. Her little body gets tense and she looks at me with the saddest eyes and immediately wants me to hold her. 

I can't help but be compassionate with this little dog. In the middle of grooming her, I had to stop, snuggle her and consider how we are alike. 

We both have some deep scars. They get covered up and even forgotten about at times. But they are tender. When they get uncovered or touched, we know. It takes us back to a time when there was no safety. When that happens, we desperately hope the person who has seen our exposed scars will handle us with gentleness and loving care. We hope we can trust them and they won't hurt us more. My dog doesn't have to talk for me to know. I know because that's exactly how I am. 

She's definitely my dog. I think there is a loyalty and understanding between us that most people wouldn't understand. 

I finally finished grooming her and all her siblings. We might be crazy for adding one more to the mix. 

I've never regretted having dogs. They definitely make life fuller. I don't intentionally try to humanize them, but they do seem to fill a human-like void in our lives. 

We are looking forward to when we can bring our new boy home. It'll be exciting. 

A Saturday with no plans and not feeling well certainly led to a full, interesting day. 

News There and Here

Things are so different here. We are at least an hour from Cincinnati, Dayton and Columbus. We sit near the corners of Indiana, Kentucky and obviously Ohio. Our news comes from Cincinnati, which covers all part of all three states. Even though we are a ways away, the news reported is incredibly different than what we saw in KC.

There weren't a lot of drug stories in the KC news. It isn't that there aren't drugs in KC, there are. For a while when we first moved to KC, there was a lot of reporting on meth houses exploding. Even that had become minimal the past few years. Usually the only drug stories on the news were that of huge drug busts or stings and again, were minimal.

Here, there are stories almost daily about drugs and primarily heroine. Heroine is an epidemic here, both in the city and rural areas. It is so bad that emergency workers carry drugs to counteract overdoses. I'm not kidding, it's crazy. The latest news story was of two young people who died of overdose and how they are retraining EMS workers to use the overdose drugs. They want enough of the drug administered to save them, but not make them conscious. Evidently when they become conscious, they refuse medical treatment and avoid intervention or charges. The fact that I know so much about this epidemic tells you how much it is in the news.

In the KC news, you might see a violent or deadly accident in the news a couple times a month. Here, there at least a few reported per week. It seems to be an even mix of interstate and state highway roads. The interstate crashes seem to be very traumatic with cars catching fire or semis being involved. State highway crashes also violent, but appear to be cross-over or running stop signs. By the way, we've seen a problem with both. Don't even get me started on careless driving here. It is rare for me to drive the five miles into town without seeing a car cross over the center line.

Probably the biggest difference is the individual violence we see reported. In KC, we saw a lot of reports about gun violence. In the past five years, there have been record numbers of gunshot fatalities and very specifically young black males. Between KCK and KCMO, that is their epidemic. I don't know what the rate is of solving those crimes, but reports are low. Our suburb of KC definitely wasn't like that. I think in 16 years, there were only a handful of murders and they were usually domestic.

We lived here for a good two months before we heard of gun violence on the news. Still, it's not a super common thing on the news here. Keep in mind, I only have year to go on and nothing to compare it to. The violence and crime stories around here seem to much different.

Last spring and summer, pit bull attacks saturated the news. Between all three of the big cities around us, there were at least a dozen deaths from attacks and most were children. One of them survived, without a tongue, ear and completely disfigured.

There is a lot of violence reported against children around here. We've seen probably a dozen or more stories of children/babies being killed by adults. The past two weeks have been especially tough. The first one was a baby in Indiana who's grandmother decapitated her with an electric saw. Not as much coverage on this cause it wasn't technically local. However, this week was local. A mother, who had lost custody of her 3 month old, stabbed and decapitated her daughter.

These stories resonate with me in a special kind of way. My first thought always when I hear these stories is "I would have taken them." Gosh. If people can't stand to be around their children, there are sources to give them away or get help. I'm positive that there are thousands of people who have the same response when they see these stories.

It isn't all bad though. In my time in KC, I never really saw the city as a whole rally around anyone. Unless it was a professional athlete, there wasn't a lot of individualism during crisis. The city as a whole did an excellent job of supporting charities, but the smaller communities were the only ones we ever saw rally around those in need.

We've seen two examples of how different this place is. The city and surrounding areas have rallied around two young people with cancer. They have been on every news station and even national programs. Both are young girls. One is a 19 year-old dying of brain cancer. Once receiving her terminal diagnosis, she started a foundation and has raised over $1 million. The other is the very young daughter of a football player here. Her dad and the Bengals have raised millions for the local children's hospital. Both are sweet and sad stories, that the community has made their own. I'm amazed at the love I've seen for these two girls. On the news this week, we saw one in her last days or weeks and the other who appears to be in remission. I've never seen this kind of community support for individuals.

I'm sure there are equal amounts of bizarre news reported in both places and news that is unique to the area. Oddly enough, the formats for stations here and there are the same with the same music and intros.

It's definitely different living in a place not really newsworthy or covered. When we lived in KC, our suburb was always in the news because half the news crew lived there. I've not seen our little town mentioned on the news once since we've lived here, not even for weather. It's SO different here!

My Husband

While I mention him a lot, I never really go into much detail about my husband. He's still here and better than ever.

As we come up on the year anniversary of our move, I can't help but reflect on all the ways he has changed this past year.

It has been a rough year for him as well. 

When we were told in January that a move was imminent, he shut down emotionally and physically. There was a ton of stuff to do and he couldn't process any of it. He continued to travel while the house had to be worked on and barely had any energy when he was at home. What little energy he had was spent trying to find other employment to keep us closer to home.

After years of worrying and taking care of me during my mental breakdown, he didn't get much break before his worry and fears shifted to his mom and her illness. He was finally starting to assimilate what was happening in his family when we found out we would be moving. 

In addition to what was happening in his personal life, he had a very stressful work situation. In the 18 months prior to moving, we were forced to cancel a vacation and he traveled 1-2 weeks per month. His job title and responsibilities had changed multiple times and he was incredibly unhappy. He had a few friends at work, but for the most part he hated it. 

Even though it was physically and emotionally hard for me, I completely understand why this move was the last straw for him. I got why he was shut down and tried to have as much grace with him as possible. 

Before we moved, he had a couple doctors trying to manage anti-depression medications. The side effects of them were terrible. He had a lot of memory loss and could not function normally. The drugs altered who he was and how he handled everything. The worst part was that they weren't helping. No combination really worked. I think at one time, he was on three anti-depression drugs and a sleeping med. 

When we got here and he needed his first refill, he got into a new doctor. The first thing she did was get him off the multiple drugs. His constant fogginess cleared up pretty quickly. Over the past six months, his mood has stabilized and he doesn't have a long list of side effects. His meds have changed and the list is much shorter. 

He's had a few other problems pop up since we moved. The poor guy just can't seem to get a break. During our move, he started having pain in one of his thumbs. He tried to tolerate it, but complained until he couldn't stand it. An X-ray showed he had something called trigger thumb. The doctor injected steroids into his thumb and he's been fine since. 

After our long drive to KC and back in September, he returned with a pain in his knee that wouldn't go away. He blamed the cramped fit in the car. We traded the car off and it was still a problem. Again, he headed back for X-rays. While we were on vacation in October, the doctor called to let him know that he had arthritis in his knee and the bones in his knee were now rubbing together. He was able to get another steroid injection and medication, which have allowed him to live without excruciating pain. 

He's obviously been affected by what has happened with/to me. While he didn't talk about it a lot, he was saddened by the loss of two babies. I know last summer, he felt helpless when I was so sick. He is usually the one to combat my anxiety with medical stuff and tell me I'm fine. When we stood in the garden and told him I didn't want to be buried here and I wanted him to take me back to KC to die, I saw the fear in his eyes. Neither of us knew what was happening or just how close to our fears we really were. 

The guy has been through a lot. I don't want anyone to think it has been all bad. There are some really good things that have come in the past year.

Prior to our move, he worked three jobs. He had a graphic arts business that came to a close at the end of 2013. He was sad, but now see it as God preparing him. He was also cleaning an office in the evenings and on weekends. He used it as a time to unwind from his daily stress, but it kept him away from home an additional hour per night. He quit that in March last year. 

Now, he has only one job. For the first time in seven years, he is working only one job. That means he has a lot more time at home. He also has a lot more time to find out who he is again and what he enjoys. That's been a, at times, frustrating venture but a much needed one. With the long, cold winter, he has discovered that he loves watching youtube videos and has some tv shows he won't miss.

In late fall, he got his bike fixed so it would be ready for spring. He has been getting back into shooting and even purchased a new gun. The guy never buys himself anything. I'm sure there will be other things. After our move, he was so very cautious because we still had a financial mess. This spring will be the first time he can really tap into what interests him and I hope he does.

When he worked in NKC, he spent nearly two hours commuting each day. When we moved, his commute was reduced to 5-7 minutes. That has been a huge, positive change for both of us. Another change was his job and overall satisfaction.

I won't say he loves his job or the situation. However, I will say that his job is a lot different here. He comes home in a better mood and enjoys the people he works with. The company is the same, but the atmosphere is completely different here than NKC. It is similar in size, but has a much stronger family feel to it.

He has developed several friendships. I am so happy. I know we both feared we would lose all our friends back home and not make any here. Neither of those things happened for him. He has friends from back home who text and call him all the time, including one who calls weekly. He has made friends here too. My introverted husband has made friends far more easily than I have. Seriously, I think our socialization has completely flip flopped here. I get maybe one text per week and most of my calls are solicitors. He gets texts and calls all evening. I am so, so happy for him. 

Probably the best part of the last year, really the last six months, is that I have gotten my husband back. Without the work, stress, med problems, I finally have him in his purest form. I have seen his faith and love for me grow. We are closer than we have ever been. 

It may have been a tough road, but I'm so glad we had each other through it all. I never know what lies ahead, but I'm always certain that with each other we will face down every obstacle. I am so thankful for this man and can't hardly believe he has been in my life for 21 years. 

These Two Kids...

There usually not pictures included in my posts, but today is a bit different. 

A year ago, I had my niece and nephew over spring break. My Timehop keeps reminding each day of all that we did. We had an awesome time. Partly because they knew it would be the last time we would see each other for a while. It was partly because of the excitement. Their Aunt Jo was moving and they were excited to come visit. 

I have to admit, even I was excited at the time. We were about to embark on a new journey that included house hunting and exploring a new area. I had placed my faith in God that He would sustain me through it all, even the hardest parts like being so far away from these two kids.

When I had to cut ties with my family, I spent four years without any contact with my brother or his family. I had broken the cardinal rule of a severely dysfunctional family. I had left. I know from mutual contacts, they were angry and had disowned me. 

These two kids though....they drew me back the second I was healthy enough to tolerate the incidental contact with other family members. For the first half of their lives, I was a fixture for them. My nephew told everyone at his Kindergarten graduation that he was going to get married and move to KC with his Aunt "Doe" (he had a bit of a speech problem when he was younger) when he grew up. 

Each time we made the two hour trip back to our home towns, I had the kids with me. They stayed all night with us sometimes Friday and Saturday nights. We did that from the time they were babies until August 2007. Our lives were meshed with each other and I loved it. I loved being an aunt. 

I do have another niece and nephew with my other brother, but we were never close. 

In the years I had no contact with my niece and nephew, my heart broke. They were the one thing that  I always let threaten my healing. Sometimes it seemed like Jesus wasn't enough to justify the trade off. I know now that wasn't true and I just needed time. But, those are four years I can never get back.

The time I spent with them last year was so special to me. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, could have prepared me at the time for what I would face from then to now. 

I know I should be thankful for the nearly four years I had back with them after a four year absence. I am thankful. I am also profoundly saddened by where things stand now. 

Honestly, I am angry. I have said it before, but I blame my parents. I know ultimately that the actions of my brother are what drove us all apart this time. However, his actions were a direct result of the dysfunction he came from. I'm not excusing him. Behavior makes sense when you understand where it came from. 

While I understand that time and space is definitely needed for me to maintain my own health, it is still painful. It is an open-ended hurt. Like the first time, there is time frame. I can't say it will all magically be better in one or two years. 

The kids are 14 and 15. They will be graduating in a few years. Even then, they will still be a part of a dysfunctional family. So, I can only hope and pray that there will be an opportunity to reconnect then. 

I have definitely been through years without them. This time is different though. I'm not making a decision to have something besides them. This time, it is my brother's decision that there not be contact. It makes me sad because he's cut off contact with someone who loves them dearly. 

I think this is one of those things that stays active enough in day to day thinking to remind me of my broken heart. Sometimes a broken heart has to stay broken until time mends it back together.

Mental Health BooBoo

There's no secret that in my time here in Ohio, I have sought counseling for a couple issues and most notably grief.

Let me start by saying that I have no shame in seeking mental healthcare. Honestly, I think the world would be better adjusted if more people took care of their mental health. Mental healthcare comes with such a stigma. If you seek mental healthcare, you must be crazy. Right?

Wrong!

My mental health is important to me. I also have to acknowledge my past. I had an extremely traumatic life prior to 2007. I have survived a level of torture and abuse that can only be envisioned as a horror movie. I absolutely have to consider that I didn't walk away from that unscathed and am still in a period of healing and restoration.

While a lot of healing came in moving away from my family and places I'd been traumatized, I am not naive enough to think I am fully healed. I constantly deal with anxiety and PTSD. Those things won't just go away and haven't. I know that the amount of time I spend alone heightens my loneliness and along with that comes increased anxiety and depression.

When I look at the trauma of the move, loss and changes of the past year, I also must consider that counseling has and will continue to be vital to fight the depression that even the most sane person would be prone to feel. The past year would have taken down a normal person. Lost two babies. Nearly died. Turned brother in for abuse. Moved away from friends and support system. Yea that short list is a lot.

I definitely need someone to talk with once in a while. I need someone who can walk me through times of high anxiety.

So, I got on the waiting list for the local mental health center way back in the fall. They told me it'd be spring before I got an appointment. They weren't far off. I got an appointment for today.

I went in for a paperwork appointment and to set up a first appointment. After getting there, we were informed that the one counselor who took our insurance had quit. Ok. So this isn't new to me. I've scheduled with two primary care doctors since we've been here only to find out the week of the appointment that they had or were quitting. Plan B? Nope.

They literally have no way to see me with my insurance. At over $100 per visit with insurance that would cover it, there's no way I'm paying out of pocket. It could be 6 to 12 months before they get a new provider.

We have other options. I could drive an hour or more to be seen. That's not much of an option for me. I've not driven more than 20 minutes away and never to any of the cities. After an appointment where I get highly emotional, I cannot safely drive home. I can't expect my husband to take off to take me every time. So, I'm at the mercy of the local providers at this time.

I'm completely split on how I feel about this.

I'm ok with not digging into the past. It's popped up a more than a few times this past year and I've just wanted it to go away. It's not easy telling someone face to face what I've been through. I've shared tiny bits of it with a few people here, but I've not had to divulge huge amounts of info since moving. I think I've only shared my testimony with two people. It doesn't scare me to do that, but counseling is more than that. It digs deeper than words on a page with a complete stranger.

I'm not overly thrilled with getting to know someone new in this realm. It's just complicated. In addition, I'm against secular counseling. The last time I tried that, the counselor encouraged us to divorce.

On the other hand, I know I'm fighting a losing battle with depression. I'm starting to fit the description of every depression led commercial. My contact with people is minimal. I don't have activities I enjoy. I don't laugh. I'm tired and my body aches all the time. My anxiety is through the roof and my OCD tendencies have picked up. I know there's a need. I know I need someone to logically talk through life with me once in a while, especially while I struggle with relationships here.

This one is out of my control. I can't do anything to change it. It's going to be 6-12 months. By then I should have my own counseling degree and either be further into this journey of healing or a hot mess. Only God knows.

Sentimental Message

I'm not a sentimental person. Receiving gifts is my primary love language. So I'm not talking about gifts or even cards I have received. I keep all those. I even put cards on my board in the craft room. When I say I'm not sentimental, I mean I don't keep trinkets or ticket stubs or miscellaneous items to remind me of special times.

The only sentimental thing I hang onto are roses. I have a glass container where I keep one rose or rose petals from each time my husband has given me roses in the past 20 years. That's it though. You won't find shadow boxes or smash books in my house.

I didn't realize until today (Monday), that I was hanging on to something else of sentimental value. For the past few months, my voicemail hasn't worked. No big deal since I'm usually available to answer my phone. I can't say I've really missed it.

While procrastinating a bit with biology today, I decided to call and get it fixed. Sure enough, my cell provider had inadvertently put a code on it that made it inaccessible. A short phone call got the problem fixed and I was able to get it working again.

The problem...my history of voicemails was wiped out. I probably had 30 messages I had saved. They all transferred from one iPhone to the next from my very first iPhone many years ago. Over seven years to be exact.

Over those seven years, I'd kept the messages that meant the most to me. All of the messages contained a similar sentiment...they all had sweetness directed toward me.

There were messages from my niece, that I listened to when I missed her dearly. Some were from friends back home long before the move offering encouragement. Some were even from friends who are no longer in my life that I kept to remind me of the best of times. Some made me laugh and some made me cry.

There were some from extremely close friends who were concerned during the darkest of times. I listened to those when I felt alone. They've been especially helpful since moving.

Then there were many from my husband. Some were a profession of love, others an apology. I held onto those in case something ever happened to him. I don't think I could go on if I could never hear his voice again and feel the true love of his words.

After I realized they were all gone, I sat, deflated. All those voicemails, all that sweetness was just gone. Unrecoverable. Never to be heard again.

I'm not going to lie, I was angry. In an instant, I lost seven years of beautiful memories and all I got from the CSR was that technology isn't reliable.

Evidently, I am sentimental when it comes to voices that mean so much to me. It's not something I can recreate.

I hate to say this, but I instantly thought that this too was just another thing to make the past year crappy. It made me ready for this year to come to a close and hope for better in the next.

Even though I hadn't listened to any of the messages for a while, I already miss them. To anybody else, they were just a bunch of stupid messages. They were so much more to me. They were a lifeline to people who care. I know it's silly to cry over that, but I lost something valuable to me.

I think it's scary to consider that I might not fill up my mailbox again and definitely won't anytime soon.

All or Nothing

One of the personality bents that abuse has left me with is an all or nothing way of thinking. It's a form of black and white thinking.

When it comes to just about anything, I am all in or I'm not. If I get involved in something, I submerge myself in it fully. If I dislike something, I set it aside and don't think anything about it. If I get to know someone, I'm fully engaged. I'm just not midway on anything. As my dad used to say, I do nothing half-assed. I either do it completely or I don't do it at all.

I know you can have this bent even if you didn't come from abuse. Abuse set that up for me. I had to choose what was really important to me. If it wasn't important, I had to set it aside and not think about it again. If it was important, I had to be ready to fight and not willing to let go.

My bible story book was a good example. It was just a book, but it was a special gift just for me that I felt especially connected to. It was important, so was all in. I dug it out of the trash, took beatings for it and sacrificed other things to keep it. Friends were a good example of the nothing side of this. Friends were important, but not enough. The price I had to pay to have friends was far too high, so I decided I didn't need any.

If this seems obscure, it's because you don't have these tendencies.

I have made a lot of progress in this over the past several years. It's part of the healing process. But, it's still my default. When I got hurt recently, it was my default. If I couldn't be all in, I didn't want any of it.

While talking with someone about recent events and my default of all or nothing, I was offered a challenge. Keep in mind, I had a wonderful counselor and friend who challenged me all the time on this and has brought me to where I am now. But this friend challenged me in a new way.

Thankfully, I trust this friend and take their criticism how it was intended. They quite frankly told me that all or nothing thinking is wrong, not biblical. Yea, I know! But this time, I got told to not be that way. What? Like I said, trusted friend who can say things to me in ways that from a less trusted person would have pissed me off.

They suggested reading through all four gospels. The challenge was to look at the character of Jesus. Was he all or nothing? I haven't done it yet. I know the answer, but obviously need to reminder.

I took my bible on vacation to do the reading. Funny story. I shoved my bible under the car seat. On one of our last days, my male dog drug it out and chewed up the corner. My OCD, default was to instantly start the search for a new bible. It was a bit of my all or nothing thinking. But, I love this bible. I have had  it a few years now. It has notes and verses highlighted all over. Far more than I could ever copy to another bible. The notes are from four pastors at three churches. Some of the highlighted verses are ones which have gotten me through times, recommended by loyal friends who've walked through the valleys with me.

I had to make a choice that wasn't all or nothing. I chose to keep the bible and adjust to the mangled corner. Not easy for me. However, it was a good opportunity to be reminded that not everything has to be all or nothing, not everything is black or white. There can be some in between, some gray areas, some areas where things aren't one extreme or another.

I appreciate the challenge and know I need it. I'm probably more appreciative of someone who cares enough to try to understand me and loving uses what they know to push me toward Jesus. I'm thankful God loves me so much that He is not content to leave me where I am and constantly leads me through this process of restoration and healing.

Only 3 1/2 to Go

There are only 14 months until I graduate. Eek!!!! I have 3 1/2 semesters crammed into that time.

That means, I have a whole lot of classes to complete to graduate in the time frame we have planned for. I, of course, know that many things can happen that could alter my time frame. Probably the one I worry about the most is me!

My first term is all finished. Much to my surprise and as a direct result of hard work, I finished my three classes with all As and a 4.0. I won't lie, that was an awesome way to start the program. I started out scared and failing. It was a huge confidence booster to finish the way I did. It was also validating.

The next two classes are completely different. They are US History and Biology. As a general rule, I enjoy both. The thing is that I enjoy both when taken in for pleasure. I can sit and watch the Science or History channel with my husband for hours and it's no big deal. It's completely different when I have to recall the information or use it in a writing assignment.

Even though I started well, I still have a fear of failure. Science and History are why I never earned a degree before now. I feared failure and it always led to me dropping the class. I'm not sure the fear is so strong this time, but I generally fear failing courses along the way. That fear is strong for me.

I also fear graduating with a huge debt. This college is expensive and we cannot afford to pay completely out of pocket. We probably could if I stretched the program out over three years. We both agree that stretching it out would probably lead to a lot of discouragement for me and possibly giving up along the way. But, I still fear debt when I have no plans of this degree leading to a paying job. I still feel called to help those who cannot afford to pay for counseling.

It's realistic for me to also consider the possibility of burn out. In the big scheme of life, 14 months is just a blip. However, that 14 months is cram packed full. In that time, I will have one week off in October and one off next March. My terms will all run back to back and even overlap. Only if I work ahead will I be able to create some time off.

There are also a couple health issues that threaten to sideline me. A trip to the doctor two weeks ago led me to consider again my reproductive options. Either way we go, I still have a couple surgeries and several invasive tests in my near future. In a perfect world, I'd like to delay all of it until after graduation. But this isn't a perfect world and not taking care of the issues I have will only make success with school even more difficult.

But for now, I'm proceeding knowing that while I have no clue what the next 14 months will look like...God does. Ultimately, my success lies more significantly in His hands than mine. With that, I shouldn't have a need to worry.

Vacation is Over

We made the rainy trek home yesterday. Between the rain, fog, and stops, our 5.5 hour drive took exactly 8 hours. It has been a long time since I've traveled through such thick fog. It is a bit anxiety provoking to be going through mountains and not be able to see the tail lights only a few car lengths ahead of you.

Another amazing sight was the flooding of the Ohio river. Since we haven't explored the Cincinnati or Kentucky areas much, I'm not familiar with the geography. However, we saw amusement parks, roads and buildings under water. I'm not unfamiliar with flooding, but this was awful. It was similar to what I saw traveling to Minnesota during my senior year of high school.

Our area has been saturated with many, many inches of snow and rain the past two weeks. While we didn't have to deal with flooding, the excessive precipitation did effect us. We returned home to a mess. As I have said before, at our previous house the sewer monster haunted every single vacation. We seem to have a similar streak here. In October, we returned home to a backed up septic system and had to spend an additional night in a hotel.

When we walked in the door, we were hit with an awful smell. It smelled like stagnant water. My husband hit the obvious things first. He hauled out a rug that soaked up all the water from our grimy vehicles and feet. It wasn't the problem. Then he ran a cleaning cycle on the washer. It wasn't the problem. When we went to bed, I still smelled it. A half day of burning candles and having windows open hadn't fixed the problem.

After church, I suggested my husband check under the house for standing water. We had seen the problem on inspection last year but hadn't had a problem since. Sure enough, the crawl space had a lot of standing water. And by a lot, I mean he has been pumping water out for over five hours and it hasn't hardly made a difference. Fun stuff!!!!

Our cabin had a hot tub that was incredibly inviting. However, the deck underneath looked extremely rotten. Not that rotten wood necessarily bothers me. But, a rotten deck that is held up only by four extremely long wooden poles on the side of a mountain....well that does bother me. So, I was looking forward to using our hot tub again when we got home.

About dark last night, my husband discovered our hot tub was not running. The excessive rain/snow had shorted out the heating element and ruined it. Unfortunately, there aren't many hot tub repairmen in this area and it's like pulling teeth to get any of them to return calls. Strike two for us!

I'm so thankful we had a restful week, so we had the energy to deal with the messes waiting for us at home.

This was truly one of the better vacations we have taken inside the US. It was enjoyable and relaxing. We probably got along better than we ever have on a vacation because there was no stress, exactly how a vacation should be.

Now, we are fully back to reality. Grocery shopping, dealing with messes, Sunday afternoon naps (well for me anyway).

Tomorrow, I start my second term of this semester with Biology and History. I have done some prep work and I am hoping a two class schedule is a little less taxing this next 8 weeks.

I'm already looking forward to our next mini-vacation next month and some time with friends from back home, friends from back home who have moved to Indiana and will be going on the mission field soon, and a friend that is very special to me. It will be great to see familiar faces.

We've Loved the Smokies

Today is our last full day here in Tennessee. It's going to be rainy, like most of the others. For maybe the first time on a vacation, I'm not really ready to go home. After 5-7 days, I'm usually ready to head for home.

The cabin is creepy and creaky. The bed is hard and the pillows hurt my neck. The dogs have no good places to be walked. I should be ready, but I'm not.

This vacation has been good for us. We are in a tourist trap, but haven't fallen prey. The touristy stuff just isn't for us. We don't enjoy high priced shows, except on occasion. In fact I've learned something about myself this trip. If it isn't sports related, I prefer nature made over man made.

We have taken full advantage of being in a mountainous area. We have taken several mountain drives. Windows down, soaking in the fresh air and enjoying the sounds and sights that go with it. There's something amazingly free about being on the side of a mountain with no cell service. It's like being unplugged enough to enjoy life the way we did before we were tied to technology.

Of course we had our day trip to North Carolina. It was still beautiful, even in the rain. But mostly, we've just explored.

We have done a little shopping. Ok, maybe a lot. And maybe it was all me. It's been several years since I walked through a mall of any kind and shopped at will. Honestly, shopping isn't my thing. I do most online and usually know exactly what I want before going into a store. Browsing through stores for the heck of it just isn't my thing. Now that I've done it, I'm probably good for another several years.

Besides our daily lounging and exploring, we've had some awesome food. As we talked last night, after a year of living with limited choices, even mediocre food has been amazing! We started with Corkys BBQ. We may end up there for lunch today. It was very worth it. On recommendation, we tried the Old Mill the next day. Oh my goodness! Corn fritters, biscuits and I had a plate of turkey and dressing that was more than I could eat.

Tuesday, in our exhaustion, we chose a buffet. We walked out praying we'd not get sick. Wednesday, we had a great, but expensive lunch. I had a turkey sandwich with bacon, avocado, sirracha mayo and grapefruit chutney....so good. When we got back, we headed to Margaritaville for lots of loud music and a burger and tacos with Caribbean flair. Our first time eating at this chain in the states and I have to say it is much better in other countries.

Yesterday, we tried a fresh mex place that left us both a little hungry. That was ok cause dinner was awesome. We tried Mellow Mushroom. So good! The best part was that they had vegan cheese for my half of the pizza. We finished the day with a couple melt in your mouth, hot now Krispy Kremes.

I can't forget, we've tried a couple of the dozens pancake houses. First was Smoky Mountain Pancake House. Eww! It was by far the worst meal we've had. Then we tried Log Cabin pancake house. It was the highest rated. Better, but still not great. Neither of them got our order right and neither had impressive pancakes/waffles/French toast. We will probably try two more and hope for a winner.

The dogs have gone with us almost everywhere and have done very well...mostly. Our anxious little guy decided to play with my husbands cell one day but did no damage. Yesterday, he decided to chew the corner of my bible and left me with an opportunity to exercise forgiveness.

We have felt good, so vacation has agreed with us. Kents knee hasn't hurt even with all the walking. My stomach has been a mess because I've not been able to tightly control dairy intake and I have no probiotics with me. I still continue to deal with this stupid virus. When tired, my eyes still won't blink right. I've still got a fair amount of face and ear pain from the inflamed nerve. I'm so ready for that to end, along with the vertigo.

Overall, this has felt like our first vacation after a long, hard year. It's the first time either of us have felt recharged. It's definitely the first time we've felt like we've gotten away from life. We have loved it.

No clue what we will do today, but I'm sure it will include good food and a drive in the mountains.

Rainy Day Drive

Yesterday, we made the rainy, 2-hour trek to see the Biltmore. It was our first time visiting North Carolina.

First of all, the Biltmore is beautiful. It's the largest home in the US and easily resembles a modern day castle. It took us several hours to walk 2.5 miles through it. That included four flights of stairs. The house contained so much artwork and a mastery of decorating skills.

Amongst all the ooohs and ahhhs of the 100s of tourists, I couldn't help but consider why.

The house was built by the Vanderbilt family. For someone my age, Gloria Vanderbilt and Anderson Cooper are the most notable of the family. A quick google search will give you more information of how the family made their wealth off shipping and the railroad.

Don't get me wrong, that's an important part of our history and our present. But touring the house really offers no valuable information of who these people were nor why this place was important.

The tour cost over $100 for both of us. I was thinking it would be something spectacular. It was, but it wasn't. It seemed to be a celebration of the American Dream....wealth and excess.

This house has 250 rooms in it. Each of the five family members had their own space, totally get that. I even get some of the rooms for entertaining and such. But it all seemed so excessive to me.

They began giving tours when the stock market crashed, then got into the wine making business over the past several decades. I can see where this establishment provides jobs, but I failed to see bigger ways that this family has used their wealth to enhance the community. I'm not saying they didn't, I'm just saying that the tour offered no good information. When I pay over $50 for a tour of a museum, I kind of expect to come away educated.

One of their current draws is a display call Dressing Downton. In random places throughout the home, there are outfits which resemble those from Downton Abbey. Admittedly, I've never watched this show. However, I know from reading a few signs that it is staged during the same era. That seemed to be the only connection. Honestly, it detracted from the overall experience for us.

North Carolina and their mountains are beautiful, even in the rain. The heavy rains left huge waterfalls for our viewing pleasure on the way home.

I'm sure I'll sound like ever the complainer, but this didn't seem like it was worth the money. Equally disappointing was paying $50 for two sandwiches for lunch. My sometimes cheap self had a tough time with the expense and felt like I got ripped off.

I suppose though, it's ok to once in a while see how .5% of the world lives.

It's Not All About Country Music

We are in Tennessee this week for vacation. Our cabin is on the side of a mountain and we have a beautiful view of the Smokies. When my husband suggested it, I turned my nose up. To me, Tennesee is country music and Nashville. It seemed no more exciting than Kansas City.

When we moved, we agreed to take advantage of the new location and see new parts of the country. A KC like vacation didn't seem new enough. Man, I was completely wrong.

The area is a bit like Branson only cleaner with better traffic. There is shopping and restaurants for us to try, including 563 pancake houses. Again, not super thrilling except to have food options like we've not had for nearly a year.

As my husband said last night, who would have guessed there was so much to see. He was talking about the mountains. While not as impressive as the Rockies, these are still beautiful.

We've taken a drive into the Smokies everyday since arriving. It was the perfect amount of beauty and relaxing. Our drive last night was along a river. Watching the rapids, hearing the birds and water flowing, it fed our weary souls.

After a long, cold winter, it was wonderful to drive up a mountain road with the windows down. The temps were 55-70, depending on our elevation.

We didn't see much wildlife. There were turkeys, geese and horses, but nothing fun. We did have an ugly little opossum waiting at our porch when we got back to the cabin.

A conversation with my husband on a mountain drive is infinitely better than sitting at home. Our time together has been much needed and easy. We've laughed and had times of honesty. We have enjoyed every moment.

Don't take this next comment as me being glad we don't have children. I would have traded it all for children. But, I found myself incredibly thankful we have taken advantage of not having children. We have traveled and seen parts of the world we wouldn't have if children had been in our plan.

We have packed up, with and without dogs, and traveled all over the country, visiting over 30 states. We've been on cruises to other countries. We have seen so many beautiful things and places. We've had experiences that would not have been possible if we were raising a family.

We will definitely be adding this trip to that list. While living in Ohio, we want to visit South Carolina, Washington D. C., New York and Florida.

I'm thankful for these opportunities. I most thankful for a husband who also likes to explore and loves me more.

Suffering and Sin

Yesterday, our preacher used John 9 for his sermon. He hit on a subject which touches us all in some way or another. In the passage, there is a blind man. It is assumed that the man is blind because either he or his parents have sinned.

We know from the sheer consistency of the bible, that people suffer regardless of their sin. We see it in everyday life. We see bad things happen to good people while bad people seem to have the world in their hands. Suffering brings out some of the deepest questions in Christians and those who don't believe.

There appears to be no rhyme or reason to suffering and so hard to explain for a Christian. It is one of those issue, which keep a lot of unbelieving people away from the cross. Suffering has a bit of mystery that can't be explained in a black and white way, feeding the idea in those people who believe the bible is hokey.

This verse effects everyone, Christian or not. At one time or another, we have, are or will judge a person's situation by what we consider to be their sin. We will believe without question that someone is at fault for their own suffering because of their decisions. We can't help it, it is our nature to assume that fault lies with the person.

I would like to say I don't and I will explain why in a minute. But, I do. My grandmother died three days before my wedding. She was 62 and had been a smoker since she was 10, heavier in her later years. She died only one week after being diagnosed with lung cancer. I have always, always considered her death to be her fault.

It makes sense, right? She smoked, so her lung cancer was caused by her poor choices. The truth is that people die everyday from lung cancer who never smoked. Likewise, people who smoked their entire lives sometimes never get lung cancer. I can't say it was her fault, maybe it was just because. Maybe it was one of those mysteries of suffering that we just don't understand.

There are so many more examples I could give. The person with the multiple DUIs that I fail to consider life circumstances or mental/physical diseases. The person who's husband left that I fail to consider his role while blaming her. I do it. We all do it.

The reason it makes me sick that I do this is because of the times it has happened to me.

Some of my suffering is absolutely caused by the sin of my parents. My PTSD and other issues were definitely because my parents sinned at will and hurt everyone they knew. However, many people out of sheer ignorance have said/treated me/claimed that my issues were because of my sin. I even had one person tell me that if I quit sinning against my parents and asked for their forgiveness, all my problems would go away. Now that was one ignorant man!

My PTSD and other issues are not because of my sin or even how I responsed to their sin. I was surviving in ways I knew how and adapting to what had been done to me.

PTSD and other anxiety issues are the reasons I no longer work outside the home. People assume I'm lazy or I can't get a job. When I explain I don't work because of PTSD, there is a general belief that I use it as a crutch. I have been told that not working outside the home is a sin and that letting PTSD keep me from working is a sin.

I volunteer at church on occasion. I am there with safe, trusted people who understand PTSD and why it is a positive environment for me. When I am there alone, the doors are locked. If someone I don't know well is in the building, I am on edge. These are a couple reasons why a legit job won't work. Employers aren't understanding of the limitations PTSD can cause. Not working isn't a sin and it isn't something my sin has caused.

Probably more often, I am treated horribly for my food allergies/sensativities. There is no way I can control any of that. It isn't my fault, not something I asked for. It also isn't because of anything I have done wrong. God didn't one day decide my sin had to be dealt with by making me deathly allergic to peanuts. He doesn't work that way. However, people act as though it is something within my control or something I was stricken with because of something I've done.

I always appreciate hearing messages like this. It reminds me that I need to not prejudge someone. I need to not always blame someone for their suffering. Most importantly, it reminds me that it is sin for me to see someone suffering and not jump in and help carry that burden.

From Satan to God

A couple posts ago, I said there was a lot more to be said about coming out of satanic background and there definitely is.

When I was living in my parents home, I did not know I lived with satan worshippers nor did I understand my role or place. It took me several years in the church to really understand it.

Because of the dissociative amnesia, I still do not have full memories of several areas of my past. This is one of those areas. What I have are limited playback of some very scary stuff. 

My parents hated church, God, the bible and especially people from the church. They burned bibles, hid from visitors, cursed the visitors and cursed God. Now, I understand that doesn't necessarily indicate satanic worshipping. 

For as long as I can remember, my dad had a large black book with shiny red letters and symbol on the cover. He hid it in his bedroom along with other things he shouldn't have had. We never looked at it and frankly, stayed far away from it. Even in our crazy life, it was scary to all of us. It wasn't until I did some searching online a few years ago that I found out it was called the Satanic Bible. 

My dad was involved in some very sketchy activities. I remember being a witness to a few and believe it is a fair guess that there were many, many more with and without me. 

I remember going, not by choice, to a hill in the country with my dad. There were several other people there, some in scary masks and others naked. Each memory contains a variety of animals being tortured, killed and even burned alive. There were often people having sex in obscure ways. There are a few memories I have of being a participant. 

There is so much more which is locked away for me. Dissociative amnesia is like having puzzles of events in your head. Sometimes you have 1 pieces of the puzzle and other times you have 99 of 100 pieces. I have to believe that God has chosen to protect me from some of the most horrific things by allowing me to have dissociative amnesia and repressed memories. 

Another thing my dad did was repeat some awful things when he was torturing me. He would say things like he was honoring someone and fulfilling a law. I have since learned that he was chanting as some sort of cultish ritual. 

Not only did my dad plant deep seeds about who God was or was not, he drug me into his cult and satanic ways. I was never a satan worshipper. But, satan had power over me for a very long time. I too spent a long time hating God, not believing in God and hating church. It was in my blood, what I had been taught. 

The fact that I willingly walked into church eight years ago is nothing short of a miracle. I won't go into the entire story right now, but staying in church was a slow progression of the Lord softening my heart and shining light into the darkest areas of my life and heart. It didn't happen instantly.

In fact, staying in church has been a fight for me throughout all eight years. Spending so many years in complete oppression, it is easy to understand why my default would be lies and not truth. When things are tough or there is confrontation or I feel like an outsider, my default is to walk away. 

While I don't want it to be, my default is to listen to satan. I know satan doesn't want me in church. He would be greatly satisfied for me to never grow and to walk away from God. Isn't that his entire goal? 

I'm not making excuses. The reality is that my 32 years of living in darkness is hard to overcome. Eight years still has not been long enough to pull me completely away from default. That's a tough reality. However, that sets me up for a lot of spiritual warfare.

Even though I have only been to church once in over two months, I know that is where I need to be. We all need to be in church, I know this. But, someone who has such a strong default to darkness who has fought their way out of a cult definitely needs to be in church. God has to be made a priority if satan is ever going to be defeated. 

I was thankful to have a conversation with someone this week who also understands the importance of me being in church. Maybe not for the exact same reasons, but they still understand how easily it is for me to fall away and how vital it is for me to attend. Because of their understanding, they were able to encourage me in ways I desperately needed.

Without church, I can survive for a while on prayer and my bible. If I were in an area without churches, I know God would sustain me. However, in this place, at this time, I will eventually suffer without preaching, worshipping with other believers and fellowship. I need those things. God has shown me over and over that I need those things to continue growing closer to Him and further from satan. 

I know it is going to take more time, healing and maturity for my default to change. I can't wait for that. I look forward to the day when pain drives me to God and church instead of away. 

I Love You

Why is that phrase so complicated?

It really isn't. Unless you have a traumatic past where you never truly experienced love of any kind.

I was 22 years old before I told anyone I loved them. It was my boyfriend/now husband. It came in the third year of dating him and he had been saying it since nearly the first date.

There were a few guys I dated before him. The second they said I love you, I was out. I wish I were kidding. Those three words were like a poison that stung my eyes, made me choke out a thank you and got me running far, far away. Poor guys, I know they didn't understand it. I'm not sure I did either.

Even after I said it in return to Kent, I didn't really mean. I guess that isn't really fair. It isn't that I didn't mean it, but I certainly didn't know what it was or what it meant to love. I just knew he needed that level of commitment from me at the time.

We were married the next year and I continued to say it as a response. It took a lot of years to say it to him and really feel it. He never gave up and I think that's what finally broke me, teaching me to love.

It's not hard to understand when you know the background. NEVER, not once did anyone in my family ever tell me they loved me. To this day, not one person in my family has ever uttered any semblance of those three words. My parents did a very good job of teaching me what it was like to not be loved and that I could never do enough or be good enough to be loved.

When you live with that for your entire life, it sets a guide for what love is or is not going to be for you. I have seen it in the relationships of my aunts, uncles, brothers, cousins. They all struggle to openly love their spouse and children. It is like that on both sides of the family.

My husband had to go to great lengths to prove his love to me. He had to be persistent and constantly reassure me that he needed nothing in return. He lived a lot of years in our marriage of knowing that I had no capacity to truly love or show him love.

There was a point where it changed. I changed. I began to understand love. I also developed a new set of faulty ideas about love. I believed that my husband was the only person who would ever love me. He was my husband and it was an expected thing. What I never expected was to be loved by anyone else.

Keep in mind, my longest friendship is 16-17 years. Because I had no capacity to show affection and genuinely love or return love, I didn't develop any deep relationships with people. If my friend had been overtly loving, I probably wouldn't have stuck with her either. Most of my friends, the ones who know me well, have all come along in the past seven years or less.

Until seven years ago, I never really had friends who openly expressed their love for me. Honestly, I can only attribute that to God. Most of my friends are Christians. Christians seem to more openly express their love for one another. I believe they do because of God's love and the Holy Spirit.

It is very difficult for me to admit this, but I still struggle with friends who love. My goodness, don't take that as me saying I don't want my friends to love me. Quite the opposite. It is like hugs. I love hugs, but I never initiate them. I want my friends to love me and tell me they love me.

It's still hard though. When they say they love me, I revert back to that young girl who didn't know what that meant. I feel fear and instinctively question their motives. I try to decipher what will be needed so that I don't lose their love and what I have done to earn it. Initially, I'm overcome with all those wrong beliefs that I usually say nothing or respond with a thank you.

Believe me, I do love my friends. Truth be told, I love most of the people I meet. When God fixed that in me, He did a great job. I quickly develop an emotional connection with people and have some level of love for them. I don't share that though. I don't want to be looked at like a freak, even though I think loving people is absolutely biblical.

When someone tells me they love me, I know they genuinely care about me. I know they know me well enough and love me, faults and all. I don't question their genuineness, especially if they have said it more than once.

Here is the cool thing about love amongst Christians. Something that still blows my mind. Something I often fail to remember. When Christian friends tell you they love you, they are expressing a familial love. Familial love was something I had never experienced until becoming a Christian and understanding what it meant to be a member of the body of Christ. I had to understand that we in Christ, we are all brothers and sisters. When I did, it made that love even more amazing.

The other really cool part is how unconditional, undeserved love shown to me by other Christians has strengthened the love I have for God. Not only that, but it constantly reminds me of how God's love is unconditional and undeserved....but I get it anyway.

My husband and I both have mutual friends, same and opposite sex. They are amazing. They openly express their love for us. We both are always in awe that people love us. We both love, love, love that we have brothers and sisters in Christ who are there when are family is absent.

I know. That's a whole lot to say, if you are my friend....I love you. I will fail to tell you. I will give you an awkward response or none at all if you tell me you love me. You will never know how much your love means to me and I'll never be able to admit your words heal my heart. But, I love you. You are my friend, my brother or sister in Christ and I love you. Each time you tell me I am loved, you are helping heal the heart of a little girl who was never loved by her family. Each time you say I love you, you are teaching me to be honest and emotive.

I love you and I thank you.

Spring Break

On Wednesday, I finished my last few assignments of this term. I'm officially on spring break. It's crazy to think that at 39 years old, I'm excited for spring break. My course load has been intense and busy. I'm ready for a break. I want to cherish this time because my next break doesn't come until October.

Spring break is still relatively new to me. When I was in school, we didn't have spring break. We got out for all the bank holidays, but never had a full week off. Most of our bank holidays after Christmas were used for snow days. We started after Labor Day and finished before Memorial Day. Things were so much simpler then, but our tiny school wasn't yet on board with spring break. They did implement it two years after I graduates.

In college, I had spring breaks but not really. I was supporting myself by working multiple jobs. The only time I did anything for spring break was one Friday, my roommate and I went to a ranch and ride horses.

So I'm a bit excited to be celebrating spring break with my husband and looking forward to some down time with him.

It is bittersweet. The past three years, I've had my niece, nephew or combo of the two over their spring break. We never did much more than hang out in KC or go to Branson. I loved the time with them. Last year, we took had them in KC where we went to the Presidential museum and visited local attractions. We ended the week with a trip to Branson. We all had a blast. It was the best time with them that we'd ever had.

In a perfect world, I could have dreamed of having them come here for spring break. But the world isn't perfect and this year is different. I no longer have access to them and have no clue what they are doing. My heart wants them here so badly, but my head knows there has not been enough time or healing.

I miss them. I'm sad that this year has to be different.

We will go and explore a new area. We will cherish our time together. I'll be mindful of the wonderful memories created in the past. I'll pray for God to work in miraculous ways in my family and pray that they know I love them.

Not Fighting for Joy

There is about 30 minutes worth of work left to do on this term of classes. I couldn't be happier about that. Unless I bomb the last few assignments in my counseling class, I should finish with 2 As and a B. I'm proud of that B in psychology. I fought hard for it, but I'll still beat myself up over not getting an A.

It has been a long eight weeks. There's joy for me in this place. There are only 3 1/2 semesters standing between me and becoming the first person in my estranged family to graduate from college. Yes, I had far more than enough credits to have a degree already but they were scattered among schools and never transferred to my advantage. When I graduate, I will have a bachelor and a half worth of credit hours. Crazy!

This week is a down week and probably one of the best I've had recently. The weather has been miserable. I feel miserable. My Bell's is finally at its most manageable point. There is a section of my mouth and cheek where I still don't have much control and I still have some significant pain that I am told can last six months. This weather has wreaked havoc on my sinuses and ears, so often feel like I'm in a hole. While I love snow so much, I am more than ready for spring and summer this year.

There is still joy in this week and I haven't had to fight for it. Despite the nasty weather, it was time for spring inside the house. I packed away all the snowmen for the next eight months. With the change over comes deep cleaning. I love having a clean house that smells clean and looks fresh.

When our stuff arrived in May last year, I decorated for summer. When I packed up my winter snowmen last year, my spring decorations had to stay packed away. It was all part of minimizing what we had in the house and depersonalizing it as it went on the market. It was wonderful to be able to get them out and put them in this house. I feel like I got to do something I missed out on last year and it was good!

We are coming up on so many anniversaries, reminders of change and emotional milestones. I know recently my emotional state has been quite negative toward this past year. I'm thankful for the timing of these reminders. None of them negate how difficult the past year has been, but they serve as opportunities to praise God.

Before we knew we had to move, things were getting tough for us. Our house was ok, but had some issues that we had ignored. Our finances had some issues that we had ignored. Our relationship had issues that we had ignored. This move forced us to deal with all three and we are better for it.

We both agree that our KC home will always be our first, but we love this home here. We are slowly fixing what the last owners failed to disclose or destroyed. We think it is beautiful and perfect for us.

We would also agree that our communication has improved tremendously, which in turn has improved our finances. The move forced us to communicate and it forced us to deal with that house. We were way underwater on that house and needed to get out of it. Now, we have one home, one mortgage and actually have equity. We wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for the move.

It was nothing either of us did or wanted to do to make any of those changes. That is why it is so easy for us to look back and praise God. His plan was bigger and better than we could have imagined. It doesn't mean the path hasn't been painful, it has. But we can praise Him anyway.

As I close and head back to cleaning, I can't help but think about the joy I am finding in worship music this week.

I haven't been listening to music much lately and when I do, it has been something other than Christian. As I listen to it now, I can't help but consider how I have veered off course a lot lately. I have fallen into traps of the world, satan and my flesh. I'd forgotten how much I value to worship. I had turned a deaf ear to the music that speaks to my heart. Singing has always been a love of mine and I hadn't sung in months.

I don't know that any of it changes where I am at with church right now. But I certainly recognize the tug of war. This probably deserves a post all of its own, but I think the fight to stay in church is even harder when you come out of a satan worshipping background. Not that there is a desire to go back to it, that's not the case. It works much more innocently in not believing you belong on either side and are stuck in the middle. I feel tugged both directions and so the spiritual warfare continues. However, I can say that definitely feel God tugging harder right now, reminding me of all He has done. I am thankful for that.

Unexpected Encouragement

Yesterday, I found encouragement in the strangest of places. We met our new tax guy. He's an older guy with kids, grandkids and great-grandkid. He's also quite the talker.

He had some obvious information about us because of our taxes. He knew we had moved about 10 months ago from a bigger city. We hadn't shared how different it was nor how hard the past year had been. I certainly didn't tell him that I have struggled to fit in.

He also had made the long trek across many states to move to Ohio many, many years ago. I can't remember if it was 36 or 47, but it was a lot of years ago. He has a well-known tax business and has served in many areas of the community. But, something he said spoke volumes to me.

Completely unsolicited, he said he still feels like an outsider. Really? REALLY? That was my response. He's been here so long and been an active member of the community. And he still feels like an outsider?

Yes! He said that if you weren't born here, you are forever an outsider.

So, a couple points I took in right in that moment. I'm NOT crazy! The way I feel isn't exclusive to just me. It's NOT just a woman thing. This was a man saying exactly what I have thought and felt.

Probably most important, there are ways to live happily in spite of being an outsider. This man has done it for a long time. This area has become his home and he has developed long-lasting, meaningful relationships or acquaintances with many, many people. That was awesome for me to see.

I didn't ask, but I think it is probably a safe assumption that he felt even more like an outsider in those early years of being here. I think maybe alien is more appropriate than outsider.

Hearing him talk was incredibly validating. Again, completely unsolicited, he went on to talk about how very different the people are here than in other parts of the US. People here are different than those just one state away. It's not a bad thing. Quite the opposite. People here are friendly in a way that is uncommon to everywhere outside of here.

That doesn't mean there is not ugliness. My general experience has been that the majority struggle at least a little bit with getting to know outsiders. I've said in previous posts, I get that. I would be the same way and have been at times.

This tax guy had no clue he was speaking directly to my heart and fears. He had no idea that I would walk away feeling encouraged.

The most important thing I walked away from his office with was a reminder to not take for granted those who don't treat us as outsiders.

This past year has been hard. Honestly, it hasn't been an accurate picture of who we are. It is a picture of who we are under immense stress, dealing with unexpected pain and adapting to something we have never experienced. The people who have met us probably haven't gotten a fair idea of who we really are. We haven't shown them who we are. We haven't been able to show them.

As things improve, we start regulate and get back to who we really are. Changed, but more like what we were 14 months ago and beyond. The problem is that we can't change first impressions or the opinions people have developed of us while we were in intense situations. Very few people have been persistent in seeing what was underneath all the stress and crap that was at the surface. I'm thankful for that. I am thankful for the few people who have handled us with grace and mercy and understood we aren't what the last year has brought out of us.

I wish I could change the others or their opinions. I can't. I can't change anyone but me. I can pray and I do.

I do still hold onto a tiny bit of hope that I can live happily here, even as an outsider. Maybe has the cold, harsh winter fades away, spring will bring more hope for that.