Hard Goodbye

I am trying me best to enjoy my break from school. It's so great to not be stuck on the couch with a book, paper or computer. This break is good for me. It makes the OCD me happy to be able to deep clean and catch up on laundry. Already this morning, I've got chili and a pork shoulder in crockpots. I've had Christian music playing. It's my happy place or should be.

There's this dark cloud lingering overhead. I suppose that's normal when you are trying to accept and process the impending death of a friend. It's heavy on my heart. I got another dreaded phone call and text yesterday. My friend had to be taken to the hospice house because she was in pain.

The goal for her is to get her pain under control with IV meds enough to give her a couple days at home. If they can get that, then she will return to hospice house for the last of her days. Her remaining days are few. They also don't know if they can give her her hearts desire, but they are trying.

Over the past few days, friends have helped her and her family plan her funeral. I'm trying to process that and I can't. This really is the end.

Shortly after her first round of surgeries, she had a colostomy. My friend isn't good with medical stuff. At a girls night, she had massive problems with her bag and had to leave early. The next day when I checked on her, she said "I hate this shitty mess." Well friend, that's how I feel now.

Up to today, I had chosen not to call her. First of all, I can barely think of her without bursting into tears. I didn't think that would be encouraging to her. Second, I've held onto hope that I would see her again. As I've figured out that's not going to happen, I've gone back and forth. I was told last night, that I waited too long to call her.

This morning, I sat and wrote a text to her in hopes her family will read it to her. My heart broke and the tears flowed, but I didn't make the text sad. Even though it was a final goodbye, it wasn't a sad goodbye. I let her know how much I loved her and what her friendship has meant to me. I don't have to say goodbye since I'm confident in the promise of heaven. For my own selfish heart, I needed her to know how much I valued her.

There's no place I'd rather be right now than back in KC. When she was diagnosed, I made her a lap quilt. She's always freezing and it was pretty clear she was going to have a long road of chemo treatments. As I say in the hospital with her the day I took it to her, I told her she'd never walk a step of this journey alone.

Ultimately that is true. God has been with her every step. So has her family. And her friends. But the the reality is that only she has experienced this journey in her shoes. I can't imagine the fear and anxiety she must have felt at times. She's a highly anxious person anyway. You'd never know cause she puts on a brave, no non sense face most of the time.

When she found out what my issues were, she shared quite openly with me her struggles. Despite her anxiety, she couldn't be medicated for it or she would have lost her job. She was flight trainer for commercial pilots. She always told me she was going to take me up and cure my fear of flying. I always laughed at that.

I can't yet wrap my head around all of this. Right before her diagnosis two years ago, we grabbed lunch on a rainy day when she wasn't working. She was fine. There was no sign that this evil monster was growing in her. Here we are two years later and we are preparing to not have her. I can't yet adjust my life to not expect her quirky "what's up" text every month or so.

Dreaded Text

I got the text today that I've been dreading for two weeks. Two weeks ago, I got the text that my friend with cancer had a stroke. As her recovery from the stroke began, we (her friends) learned that she had been told late last year that her cancer had spread and she had masses in her stomach and lungs.

When she was diagnosed, we were told she had 10 years. Like I said in a previous post, that's a long time in the realm of cancer. A lot can happen. Treatments today are far better than 10 years ago.

After her testing late last year, 5 years was tossed around. Ok, not good, but there's still hope. Five years with young kids is never enough but a good chunk of time to watch them grow and teach them.

After the stroke, a year or two was discussed amongst friends based on tid bits of info being passed around. Ok. Wow. It's getting real now. At that time, we were told that she had 6 months of chemo left and then there was nothing they could do for her.

Today, I got the text I've been expecting and dreading. My friend had taken a turn for the worse. The doctors have stopped chemo treatments because they are no longer beneficial and are more harmful. Her cancer is spreading and there is nothing they can do. She is in a great deal of pain. She has been placed under hospice care for the remainder of her time.

Her prayer is to have the pain controlled enough so that she can have a few good days with her family. It doesn't seem like an unreasonable request.

One of my friends said today that the reason they have been so tight lipped about her condition is that she has been in denial. Oh my goodness! What young person wouldn't be. While her faith is strong, her flesh is weak just like the rest of us. She is one of the most straight forward people I know, but I'm sure leaving her children has left her looking the other direction in the face of cancer.

I don't have to tell you, but I will. My heart is breaking. I want her healed and I selfishly want her healed on this side of heaven. Our original 10 year window has shrunken and I'm not the least bit ready to say goodbye.

As I told my husband tonight, I've experienced losing people fast and without warning like with accidents or suicides. I've experienced slow, agonizing loss too. Watching someone slowly die is much harder.

It's difficult to know exactly what to think or pray. Do you hope for a miracle or accept the prognosis? Do you pray for extended life knowing it will be painful or do you pray for a swift passing? Do you text as you normally would, knowing it would be meaningless? Do you dare make a call, knowing you'll have nothing to offer but your own tears? It's a difficult road without many directions.

I would much rather see my friend now than go to her funeral. I don't think with my husbands job, that will be possible. It sucks being so far away.

Knowing the end is near for someone you love alters your everyday life. When you read email or look at Facebook, you hold your breath and hope that there's no bad news. When you hear your phone ding, you cringe and pray it's not the text you fear the most right now. You pray diligently, but selfishly concern yourself with your own heartbreak. You try to be positive even when your gut knows.

I cannot imagine never meeting my friend. She has been an encouragement. She's made me laugh. She's never hesitated to be honest, even when it hurt. She's taught me to have grace with stupid people. Seriously, that was a big one.

Losing her is going to leave a big void for everyone who knows her. It's a void nobody else can fill. I'm not sure about her other friends, but I want to honor her. I don't know how, but I want to use everything she has given to me and pass on her legacy. I want to make the world a better place in some small way because she made it better in big ways.

Food

We have experienced a huge change in food since we've moved. When we lived in KC, we ate out a lot. For two people, it was easier and sometimes cheaper to go out. I didn't have a lot of kitchen space, so we didn't keep a lot of staples in the house. So to make something even simple like tacos, it was cheaper to hit Taco Bell.

That isn't the case here. We have lots of space and have stocked up on staples when they've been on sale. I've also stocked the freezer with things from the garden and Amish market. The food here is about 25% cheaper. It makes sense to eat at home more and we do. We don't have a lot of options in places to eat. In our town, we have a pizza place and diner. In the next town, there are chain restaurants, Bob Evans, some diners, pizza places and a steak house.

Because of the lack of options, Kent doesn't go out for lunch. He takes his lunch, which makes cooking even more valuable. I try to have plenty for leftovers.

We have to drive an hour for restaurants we are used to.

But there's something more to it than that. I know, this is going to make me sound like a foodie snob. Maybe I am, but this is really about the difference between here and KC. I could make a similar comparison to the area I grew up in Kansas.

The palates and expectations of people here are different. That's not an insult, but an observation.

We've had a lot of people recommend places to us, which we've been thankful for. But we've often wondered why. This is my theory. People have different tastes here. They are recommending the best that they've had or know to be around here.

There are three BBQ places within 30-40 minutes of here. Ok, maybe it's a little unfair. We are from KC where BBQ is a love language. Two haven't been bad, but one has made us sick every time. None of them are even close to KC BBQ.

The places all seem to have the same level of cleanliness too. They just aren't. Many people had recommended the Japanese steakhouse where we ate yesterday. The food was good for this area. The portions were huge. It was a bit over salted for my taste and they don't know how to make a veggie roll. But that's all ok, nothing that would keep us from going back.

It was pricey for this area. We definitely understood why it is a special occasion place. However, it was filthy. It was almost like they never cleaned after the Saturday night crowd. The ladies restroom has three stalls and none of them worked. There were paper towels clogging the sink. When I told the hostess, who acted very hungover, she was disinterested and told me to look in the men's room for a working toilet. No thanks!

I'm not saying this would be acceptable to the people around here. But when we spend $60 on a lunch, we certainly expect to have working restrooms. But unfortunately, this level of filth exists more often than we would expect.

Again, I'm not trying to be judgmental. It makes me a little sad that there isn't more attention to detail by owners and managers. We've easily walked into at least a dozen places that far surpassed the filthiness of LCs BBQ in KC. That place gets shut down for health code violations at least twice a year.

I won't at all say it's all been bad. We've found several good places to eat. We love the Skyline Chili chain and a local burger joint. We've explored and tried lots of different things. We've even gone to places, like Holtmans Donuts, that our more local friends haven't tried or even heard of.

Like is said, I could say many of the same things about the area we grew up. They make Mexican food really well and that's it.

We've experienced something else similar to home. When I would make gourmet salads for my husband's family, they never got eaten. By gourmet, I mean caprese salad, fruit filling salad, red velvet cheesecake and others. Not super fancy but certainly different for them.

In the few times I've cooked for small group and an event, I've had similar experiences. Anything out of the norm, wasn't eaten. I made a tomato, bacon and pasta soup for an event. It's something we eat all the time. I brought home nearly an entire crockpot of it and I know it was mistaken for a very bad chili. No biggie, we ate it. But it's still been an interesting experience. It's made me feel a little weird and like even my food doesn't fit in.

Crazy. It's amazing to me how so much is different and there can be such a difference in food over 600 miles. As always, it continues to be a learning experience for us. Even if we don't feel like it, we are slowly fitting in to the norm around here. Some of these things used to bother us and now we are a lot more tolerant.

40th

This has probably been my hardest birthday I've had since childhood. It really wasn't the age. It's true that 40 is just another day. 

The past few days have been tough, probably more than I expected.

Let me first get out what was right. I have to acknowledge what was good and the people who made it so. 

My husband gave me exactly what I asked for. A weekend of no cooking. My sensative stomach is paying the price for that, but I'm happy. He also took me wherever I wanted to go. We started Friday night. We have a casino about an hour away. We aren't big gamblers, but we are so desperate to be around people. So, for the first time in over eight years, we went to a casino. We first stopped at their buffet. 

I'm usually not much into community smorgasbords and their germs, but I made an exception. There was actually good food to choose from and it wasn't bland. After loading up on prime rib, buffalo perch and pecan pie, we headed into the casino. We each made a donation to our local schools at the slot machines and decided to head home. On the way out, we hit the machines that always pay out...the pop machine. 

The next day, we headed to Cincinnati. We've lived here a year and only been to Cincy once. On the way, we stopped a donut shop. A Walmart cashier and Pigeon Forge recommended it. I'm glad he did. They were the best donuts we've had since we left KC. Then we headed to Ikea. Evidently when it rains hard on a Saturday, everybody with a screaming child heads to Ikea. 

That place is a bit overwhelming. Once we got it figured out, it was pretty smooth. We got a ton of ideas for the house. We didn't go in with a list, but we came out with a cart and a basket full. We loved getting some things to freshen up the house and a second dresser, that we've needed for years. We had lunch there. It wasn't spectacular, but it was free. Evidently, if you spend at least $100, your food is free. 

We made the long, super rainy trip to Trader Joes and then home. We tried a deli in town for dinner and it was good. I'm thinking we will definitely go back. Today, we headed to a Japanese steakhouse after church. It was ok, but maybe not the quality we are used to. Definitely good for this area. We hit a couple stores and came home. Tonight, we got burgers from a place in town and I'm officially stuffed and ready to not eat for days. 

Two friends surprised me with precious gifts and cards. It was so sweet of them. I've had lots of birthday wishes on Facebook and a couple texts. So sweet of people to think of me. 

It's all been fun and sweet and far more than I deserve. 

There is a sadness to this birthday that is unique to this year and this place. 

The first is obviously my family. They are responsible for half the tears shed the past few days. I woke up at 3 am this morning and couldn't fight back the tears. More than any birthday in the past eight years, the situation with my mom has gotten to me. It was 40 years ago that she had her first child. The same child she now no longer claims. 

Did she think of me today? Did she even remember what today was? Was it anywhere in her hardened heart that made her want to reach out to me? Then the reality of my questions sets in and I know the answer to all of them. At 3 am, that reality rested heavy on my chest. I can only imagine that's a normal response for anyone who's estranged from their family. 

I think it's further complicated by not having a relationship with any of my family or my husband's family. I do have 15 family members on Facebook and phone numbers of about 20. I had one aunt and one cousin acknowledge my birthday and no texts. I think that would make anyone sad. 

Of course it sucked not being with friends on my birthday. That's all I ever wanted. My closest friends know how hard birthdays are for me. Sadly, only a couple of them bothered to contact me. Again, how can I not be sad? It was a big birthday. Of course it was hard to feel so incredibly alone. it really hits on those old feelings of not being wanted. 

I'll smile and tell everyone it was a good day. But, it wasn't. It was incredibly painful. I'm thankful for the people who went out of their way to make it special. They are the reason I won't let this linger. 

Gender isn't a choice!

I've been back and forth on whether to touch on this subject. Making a choice to change ones gender is something I struggle with and especially now that it's being thrust upon us.

If you have read much of my stuff at all, you know that I stay on the more liberal side of social issues that tend to divide people in passionate ways. I know and see homosexuality as a sin, but make a very conscious choice to not make a big deal over other people's sin when I have so much of it in my own life. Their choices, much like my own, will come with an opportunity to repent and convert.

But, gender reassignment or even transgendered (living as the opposite sex), is something I can't easily get on board with. I can't seem to separate it as a sin and equal to my own sin.

Let me explain a little bit deeper. I have said this all before, so it isn't something new. There have been times in my past when I wondered why I wasn't born a boy. My entire life, I have always identified with males more so than females. Relationships are easier and interests are more common. I have even gone through periods of my life when I hated being a female.

Despite all that, I have learned to embrace who I am. Even before I was a Christian and believed that I was created by God, I still embraced myself as being made the way I was meant to be. It wasn't easy. I even tried to force myself into loving the color pink and being girl while trying to forget that loved football and the smell of grease.

Not only did I have to learn to embrace who I was, I had to learn balance. The same God who made me a girl, designed the innermost parts of me that prefer hockey over shopping.

I cannot help but think people who live as the opposite sex or make permanent alterations to their sexual orientation are completely depraved. They cannot possibly know or believe in God or that they were designed by an awesome Creator.

Forgive me, I am very passionate about this subject lately. What I am saying isn't out of judgement but sheer ignorance. I just can't wrap my head around it. I even question the legality of a sex change operation. Gender reassignment surgery is making a mutation of something that was already perfectly designed.

Recently, the president has made a push to outlaw therapy for this particular growing group of people. Is that really a good idea? If you are so confused about your gender that you can't live as the sex you were born, isn't there a need for therapy? I think so. By therapy, I don't mean just talk therapy. There should be some extensive hormonal testing and therapy made available if necessary. We need more, not less.

This isn't just a religious issue for me. I don't base all of my thoughts or opinions of my relationship with Christ. It is more a disgust and lack of understanding for people being unwilling to embrace who they are or adapt. When I say disgust, I mean we live in a society where if we don't like something, we snap our fingers, throw down some cash and someone can change it without any questions being asked. I suppose to a degree, we all do that. Don't like your hair color, spend $65 and get a new color. Changing one's gender just seems to cross a line I don't quite understand.

I know there is a continual evolution of what we will accept as a society. It seems like we are starting to cross lines that will make even more horrific things acceptable. I know it is a stretch, but today it is changing one's genitals and I have to ask what's next. Will we push the boundaries of what is ok and start allowing 14 year olds to marry? I don't know.

As you can see, it's not something I support and it's something I find a reason for at this time. I definitely won't be watching the big interview on tv tonight. I can't watch another spectacle that tells the world it's ok to change what you don't like.

Overthinking

My dreams maybe an indication that I'm over analyzing this upcoming birthday. You only turn 40 once, right!

Like I've said, I've not been overly upset about the age. I feel like my age is finally starting to match me. Truly the depressing part of my birthday is not having friends or family to celebrate.

I had one of those depressing birthdays. It was when I was 15. I woke up completely upset by the fact I was half way to 30. At that age, I must have thought 30 was old age or the end of life. Oh my goodness! My 30s have been some of the best and most challenging years of my adult life.

Last night, I informed my husband that he only had three days until he was married to an old woman. He responded with a laugh. I suppose that's fair. He is ten years older. That means he's got a ten year head start on being old.

Anyway, I can tell I've been thinking about my age way too much. My bizarre dreams are a reflection of the crazy things that float through my head.

I think with any big birthday, you consider the future and maybe even your mortality. It's not eating at me, but I think naturally in my thoughts a little more.

The past week, I've had crazy dreams. They all involve "old people" things or bizarre things happening.

In one, I had to wear glasses to see an ear of corn and then subsequently lost my teeth eating the corn. Another, I went to a doctor who made dentures and fit people for adult diapers. Holy nuts! In another dream, masked men invaded my house and I beat them off with a cane.

Then there have been the dreams where I either die or am sick. Those suck.

I don't remember these kind of things when I turned 30. All but one of my grandparents is still living. They are all in their 80s with no evident health issues. No parent, uncle (oddly I don't have any blood line aunts) or cousin has died and none have any diseases or apparent health problems. All of my great grandparents except one lived into their 80s or 90s. Same with extended family. Suicide and car accident are the leading cause of death in my family. My middle brother is the only one with any health issues. So, hopefully, I've inherited good genes and life is still less than half over for me.

I'll be finishing up my 30s with lots of schoolwork. Probably the really crazy thing is that starting next week, I'll be a 40 year old college student.

The Mother

My mornings all start about the same way. I take my time getting up and then immediately put the dogs out for the second time of the day. I will start laundry or dishes if needed and pour myself a glass of cranberry juice. I will take a few minutes to straighten up things. Lately, the floor stays littered with dog toys since the puppy is still too small to get them out of the toy box. Finally, I'll sit guard over the puppy's food bowl while he eats. Those bigger dogs love puppy food. I will usually open the window blinds and windows if it is warm enough and listen to the dogs wrestle and play. About the time I am ready to sit down with my school work, the dogs are already for their morning naps.

There's nothing terribly stressing about my mornings. I move at a leisurely pace. I don't bother to shower until I've spent a couple hours on school work since I have the option to study in pjs. I rarely turn on the tv, so the house is quiet. Unfortunately, that means my brain is usually busy. It is kind of my time to think through the day or analyze the previous day or dreams.

For some reason, my husband and I have had strange dreams for several nights in a row. We aren't drug users and there is no apparent reason for the dreams. My theory is that we are both processing subconscious feelings about our mothers.

My dreams have been obscure, but the common theme is that my mom takes me somewhere and leaves me. Last night, she took me, my stuff, two dogs and a pet turtle to a cult commune and left me. I had to escape on my own as some really strange things were happening.

My husband has been having dreams where his mom calls him. She tells him she loves him and misses him. He wakes up wanting to cry.

Neither scenario is possible. They are just that, dreams. There's no way they could be anything else.

Even though my husband's dreams make him sad, I would much rather be having those instead of mine.

In my husband's grief over having but not having his mother, he often forgets how fortunate he is and has been. He grew up with a mother who always told him she loved him. She supported him. She was a huge part of his life and who he is now.

While I don't have a favorable opinion of her because of how she treated me, I absolutely love the mother she was to my husband. For that and that alone, she has my respect and love. I have always tried to acknowledge her role in my my husband's life.

Admittedly, our marriage is stronger without her presence and meddling. I can't overlook that. However, I do wish she was still present in my husband's life in more than just a physical way. Because of my rocky relationship with her, my husband doesn't believe I have a right to grieve her illness and loss. Truthfully, maybe I don't. But I do have every right and responsibility to grieve with and for my husband and his family.

I don't think my husband or his siblings quite understand the treasure that they've had. Like anyone else, I think it's easier to see the negative and forget the positive. I also think they are a bit jaded to the fact that not everyone grows up like they did. In their eyes, they had it rough. But they didn't.

Not everyone has a mother who loves them. I don't. I mom has never told me she loves me. She has never supported me. She has never been there when I needed her. She did plenty of meddling and causing problems in my marriage, but done completely out of an evil heart.

I do envy what my husband has had with his mom. I know he will never hear his mom say she loves him again. But at least he has heard it. He knows what it is like to have a loving mother. He had a mother.

I know I have said this all before. These things stir up in me around my birthday and mother's day.

Even though my dad was absolutely evil and did the majority of my abuse, I have to fairly acknowledge my mom's lack part in my past. She was equally depraved.

The Father

Our preacher touched on something in his sermon yesterday that made me think through my growth as a Christian. In the last prt of his sermon, he talked through what being a father meant and how God as the Father is seen or described.

When I first became a Christian, it was easy to see God as an authority figure. Even though I've always been a strong Type A personality and have fit more naturally into leadership roles, I still have a healthy respect for authority. It was quite easy to see God as being comparable to a boss only over every aspect of my life.

I'll be honest, I've been known to test authority. Never in a rebellious way, but in ways where I could make sure that the authorities over me had were safe or had my best interest in mind. I've done that in jobs and with my husband. It was my way of knowing if I should stay or go and for good reason. Remember, I lived under an evil authority for a very long time.

Since perfection eludes us, I know that no father is 100% comparable to God. I completely get that. However, some fathers are a lot closer than others and most fail completely. Then there are the fathers, like mine, who absolutely warp the idea of what a father is.

When I became a Christian, I couldn't see God as a Father. In fact, when people referred to God the Father, I cringed. I even heard God referred to as Daddy a few times and tht just sickened me. Even through I understood that God was loving and just, I could not wrap my head around him as a Father.

Like I said, my idea of a father was terribly warped. I had a true and righteous hatred for my dad. He had never shown me love. He had hurt me all ways possible. He wasn't a good guy. He was evil. Everything for him was conditional and the end result was always painful. He never wanted children to love and teach. He wanted children for his own personal hell he had long fantasized about.

For 32 long years, that was my view of a father. The TV version of what a dad should be, like Ward Cleaver, was only a mythological creature. It never occurred to me that dad's were really supposed to be that way. Loving most of the time and firm when needed.

I know I wasn't a perfect child. I did make mistakes. It's sad, but I couldn't tell you what they were. I can never recall a time when my wrong was explained to me nor when the punishment fit the crime. I thought about this not long ago.

One summer day, I was actually allowed to go to a school mates birthday party. I had just finished third grade and the party was on the school lawn. My parents told me to be home at 3 pm. The party started at 1 pm and the school was one block away. They sent me off with rules and a plan for failure. I had no watch and the party was outside with no clocks. Unable to really enjoy the party, I fidgeted and was anxious the entire time about getting home on time.

At what I believed was a reasonable time to leave, I ran home. As I pulled open the door, I saw the clock on the VCR change from 3:00 to 3:01. Surely that counted. I was on the front porch and in the doorway at 3 pm as expected. My mom directed me to the garage. My dad was waiting for me with a board that had a carpet tack strip attached. He beat me until I fell to the floor.

To this day, I still don't understand what happened there. It seems like the punishment was already planned before my expected failure. But there was no explanation.

That was one of 1000s of reasons why my ideas of a father were so skewed.

My counselor worked so very hard to change my thinking. She had a huge part in my evolution, but so did others. I had to see it. I had to see fatherly love and good dads. Being in the church helped me see that.

Probably the most profound moment for me was with a friend who has a special needs son. I watched the dad come home and show immense love for his son one day. His son is non verbal and has little ability to give him anything in return. It was unconditional love like I'd never seen. In that moment, I could finally conceive this idea of God as a loving Father.

It was a painful journey to fully acknowledge God as my Father. But there is something very beautiful here despite the pain. Once I got it, accepted it, believed it fully, I never looked back. My dad was replaced. He had never earned the right to be my father. In a sense, he was out and God was in.

I think when your birth father is so incredibly horrible, it's much easier to embrace God as the Father. God the Father is everything you've dreamed of having and more. He loves and corrects when needed. There's explanation of correction in the bible. It's an amazing thing that is truly difficult to put into words.

I'm thankful for my Father. Not the one who donated the sperm, but the one who created me and loves me still.

Not Just Mine

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my grief and loss of children, that I selfishly forget that I am only one half of this equation.

Today, we had a young family sit in front of us at church. They've been bringing their baby daughter with them since she was only days old. I think she's probably 3-4 months old now. Honestly, I selfishly spend a lot of times wishing this baby were in the nursery. She's a screaming, crier and it's hard to pay attention with the growing number of babies in the sanctuary.

So neither my husbands feelings, nor any regard for this baby were on my radar this morning. As we were mid worship, I looked over at my husband. I found him with his quirky grin and eyes locked on the baby.

My husband loves kids. He's the kind of guy that everyone knows would be a good dad.

It struck me in that moment, how often I forget that his hearts desire was never met. He wanted children. He has always longed to be a dad.

My fertility issues are all a direct result of the horrific abuse I've been through. None of it is him. Odd and interesting fact, him and his two brothers have all struggled with infertility in their marriages. In ours, it's all me.

We don't talk about his feelings about it often and for good reason. He doesn't ever want me to feel worse about it than I do. He doesn't want me to take on more guilt. I appreciate that. But I do know how he feels.

He holds my parents directly responsible and dwelling on it stirs anger in him that he can't hardly stand. He hates them for what they've taken from him. At times, he has felt as though this is a punishment for something he has done wrong. Outside of choosing the wrong wife, I'm certain he has done nothing to cause it.

How do you ever come to terms with that? How do you ever let go of the guilt that you are the reason your husband can't have his hearts desire?

I can't imagine what my husbands expression would be if he were holding his own child. I think that would be the sweetest moment of our lives.

We still have the option to get fertility treatments, but all the previous named issues still exist. My husband would also say that at almost 50, he's too old for a baby. At almost 40, I might be too.

While it warms my heart to see my husband smile, it still breaks a little.

Spring is here!

Finally, we have some nice weather. It's not going to last long, since the forecast is cooler and rainy. That's the birthday forecast. Cold and rainy.

We spent most of the day outside. In fact, I got a bit of a sunburn on my pale white cheeks. It was nice to be outside.

Not only did we inherit a mess inside our house, the landscape was hideous. There are literally flowers tossed here and there and nothing makes sense. It was messy. Weeds and crap everywhere. I dug up so many broken yard ornaments.

The people before us were just awful and definitely had no clue about landscaping. They covered the beds with trash bags and put mulch over the top. Crazy.

It's not done but it's starting to look better. I already know our simple cleaning and improvements are making huge improvements for resale, not that we have immediate plans for that.

It was nearly 80 degrees today and I was almost miserable. And I was super excited about that. No, I'm not crazy. I'm actually very normal.

In spring and early summer, we couldn't afford to do anything. So, this is the first chance we are getting to really invest a little money in this. I'm excited about that. It speaks to how things have changed in positive ways.

There's something more exciting. Last summer and clear through the beginning of winter, I was really sick. I had no energy and never felt like working in the yard. As much as I love mowing, riding on the mower left me in a lot of pain. I'm so glad to not have that problem now.

Because my hemoglobin was so low, I spent a lot of that time freezing. I wore sweatshirts most of last summer. If it was 90 degrees, I at least had on long sleeves. I was painfully cold all the time. I couldn't ever get warm. It was awesome to be in a tshirt, capris and flip flops and be sweating. No kidding. I was nearly giddy. It's a sign my blood levels are back where they should be and I am healthier.

During that time, my eyes and skin were so sensative. A little wind or sun and my face hurt for days. My cheeks and neck are a little sunburnt, but it'll be over by tomorrow. I'm so glad.

Even through our really nice days are gone for at least the next ten days, it was refreshing to have the past two days. It was a great way to kick off spring and head into the next week. Having things done, getting some vitamin D, I think we both needed it.

The Other Shoe

Waiting for the other shoe to drop? What does that mean? I know what it means, but the saying itself doesn't make sense at all. I know it means that things are going fairly well and you're just waiting for something bad to happen. 

The saying is a source of anxiety and trepidation. Not just for me but lots of people. Some people constantly spend their lives on edge waiting for that next bad thing to happen. I used to fall into that cycle, but have learned not to let it control me with anxiety. 

I know I've shared this before, but I had a time like that before we found out about the move. Things were going great. We'd found a church after a painful departure from our first. I was literally in a full blown anxiety attack. After a long talk with my counselor and friend, I let it go. Two weeks later, we were told of the move. 

This last year has taught me a lot about not letting that fear and anxiety have control over me. Not to be cynical, but bad things are going to happen. We live in a fallen world. We are going to have periods of life being ok and even smooth. But we should also expect interruptions and tragedy. Sometimes the good periods last a long time without an interruptions. Tragedies are usually far between. But we can expect them. 

One of my friends said something earlier this year that was simple and yet profound. Jesus' life wasn't easy, why should I expect mine to be. Wow! Yes! 

This last year has brought us one trial after another. The houses purchase and sale. Health issues for us both. Loss. Adaptation. Injuries. Broken appliances. (I'm waiting for the heater repairman for the fourth time as I type this.) 

We've learned, kind of forcefully, to live in periods of contentment and being ok even through those trials. I won't lie. Some have been easier than others. Dealing with broken appliances doesn't really compare to losing a baby. A flooded crawl space is a lot easier to work around than overwhelming loneliness. 

Even in the tougher times, more emotional times, there has been a sense of calm for the most part. In those times, we've learned to lean more on each other. Probably most importantly, we've found that God sustained us through those times. Sometimes we didn't see it until much later, but we did recognize it. 

What we've been through this past year would have strained any marriage and stressed even the most laid back person. Honestly, if this past year had happened 3, 4, 5 years ago, I'm not sure I would have survived. I don't say that flippantly. During those times, the tiniest bit of stress drive me to self destructive behavior and even suicidal thinking. I had no capacity to handle anything and those helping me could only pray for a hint of stability. I thank God for a couple good years of progress, healing and growth before this past year happened. 

I'm thankful that the past year has helped me with some of my anxiety issues. I can't say I'm overly thankful for the path it took. How do you ever get to a point where you can be thankful for things like loss and loneliness? But I can be thankful for where it has brought me and what it has taught me. 

Blue

The truth is, that's how I've been feeling. Even through our trip, I've been a little down. Nothing that's kept me from enjoying life but enough sidetrack my thinking.

When you have a friend dying, it definitely weighs heavy on your heart. I have learned the situation is a bit more dire than I previously thought. We had always been told her prognosis was ten years. So we've all expected to have our friend around for quite some time. In ten years, a lot can happen including new treatments.

I learned yesterday that the cancer has spread to her stomach and lungs. She has six months of chemo left and the. There is nothing else they can do. The chemo is, at best, only preventing a massive spread of the cancer. With her recent stroke, we know there are other complications. Realistically, our friend has months, not years.

Knowing this has put a burden on my heart to pray her prayer. Her prayer from the beginning is her husband's salvation. Her worst fear even before she knew this cancer was her death sentence, was that her husband would never know the Lord. My goodness, I'm glad I don't live with that fear. It's time to pray and expect big things because our God is bigger than we can fathom.

I want to see her, but I'm not sure that will happen since we aren't scheduled to go back until December.

This has given me the opportunity to communicate with friends back home. It makes me miss them more. It's also given me the birthday blues even more.

Like I've said, I'm not upset about turning 40. I'm upset about not being surrounded by people who love me when I turn 40. I'm not saying there aren't people here who love me. There are. They are few in number, but they love well.

But those people don't know me well enough yet. They don't know how much celebrating my birthday means to me and how much it has been part of my healing. In fact, I don't think anyone knows it's one of those monumental birthdays. So of course I'm a bit down and hoping time passes quickly.

Church Music

If there's one common issue we've found in all of our churches, it's been music. Have you ever noticed that? There's definitely a divide amongst the congregation on music styles.

Our first church definitely had the most diverse congregation and likewise, the more diverse music selections. Even so, there was always complaining from some direction or the other. One of the things the music pastor did very well was utilize modern versions of old hymns.

I hate to stereotype, but it's been pretty consistent. Elderly and people who grew up with hymns prefer a very traditional worship style. People, like me, who didn't grow up on hymns or in the church are far more comfortable with music they can identify from Christian radio stations. Of course, those stereotypes don't fit everyone, but that has been our general experience.

Being a brand new Christian, who loves music and has a hearing problem, our first church was a good starting point for me. The variety allowed me to connect to modern music and slowly learn some hymns. The music pastor actually had a very eclectic taste in music and the choir choices also had a lot of variety.

Our first church was the only one to offer a choir and is one of the things I miss the most. The specials he chose were some of the most memorable for me. God used some of those specials in big ways to teach me love and grace when those were foreign concepts to me. Being a part of choir was probably the most connected I ever get to the entire church and one of my favorite ways to serve the body.

Even with the variety, there was still complaining. I wasn't immune to it. I didn't like the services heavy with hymns. The music pastor still did an awesome job in an impossible position. It has to suck knowing that at no time can you ever make everyone happy. He always handled that positions well and with grace and understanding.

Some of my favorite music had been that of Soveriegn Grace. Once I learned of their troublesome reputation and impending legal actions, I had a difficult time worshipping to their music. But, I digress.

Our second church had moved in a very different direction and one similar to our church now. Leadership had explained to the worship team and congregation that in order to minister to the unchurched who walked in the door, they would need to adapt. In adapting, they moved their worship style to be very modern.

It's been a year, but our experience was that the music was a bit loud. However, the congregation sang out like any other we've seen. Everyone sang, praising and worshipping. Nobody just stood, closed lipped and tolerating the worship time. We weren't there long enough to really hear grumbling. We heard a few things, which let us know that the church wasn't immune to it.

Here's the difference that we saw though. Like it or not, everyone embraced it. They understood leaderships point of view and bought in fully. To is, it showed us that the congregation as a whole supported their leadership and wanted the opportunity to reach the lost. We loved that cohesiveness.

Because we are in a bible study with a huge swing in age ranges, we know that our current church has a bit of division over music. The leadership knows the importance of keeping a balance of traditional and modern styles. The music minister does a good job as well. As with our first church, we wish the older generation would be more supportive of moving forward. It can be a little disheartening at times to see the number of people closed lipped and tolerating worship.

I have to admit, we were shocked the first time we walked into the church and saw a piano and guitar. In the Midwest, most Church's of Christ are non instrumental. Women are also not allowed to be a part of leading worship. It was refreshing to see both in this church. Personally, we love the music in this church. It's always a great time of worship.

Ok, honestly, I've had one complaint that I've never shared with anyone besides my husband. There might be an over use of Deer Panteth song. Everyone has that one song that drives them nuts, right? Seriously though, we enjoy the music and worship at this church. When we were searching for a church, preaching and doctrine were number one and music was number two.

It's funny to me that music seems to be one of those common issues amongst churches, even if it's minor. It seems to me that there has to be a clear purpose for the music. That is going vary based on location and population. The leadership has to have a clear direction and the congregation needs to embrace the vision as long as it's biblical.

Indiana Trip Part 2

Ick! It's Monday morning after a busy, busy weekend. Monday means there's a new week of classes and a new lack of motivation. I just can't get excited about my classes this term. Regardless, a busy weekend usually means we are all tired come Monday and oh so true that is.

Overall, our trip was wonderful.

Our main purpose was the Vera Bradley outlet sale. We went two mornings and neither were a disappointment. I probably don't shop that sale like a lot of women. I go in, walk through and get out. I don't window shop and touch everything and make long, laborious decisions. I also don't go for the purses. I did get a couple, but I got other stuff. Travel bag, hat, sunglasses, tech items, those were my primary purchases.

The shopping adventures were a bit tamer than the last time. Maybe because it was so early. A few styles of party hats, a clogged toilet and a couple elbow jabs. That's nothing compared to last time. We also stood in line for 45 minutes or less and there was no waiting at checkout. I think we may have missed the craziness.

Probably the best part of the weekend, was the time spent with my husband. It was a light-hearted time relaxing and just being together. Thursday, he was gracious enough to take off a little early so we could make our four hour trip between storms. Friday, we relaxed all afternoon. Saturday, we spent the afternoon on a road trip.

The least fun part of the trip was him not feeling well. Evidently, he caught a stomach bug and was a little miserable. He didn't let that slow him down. Ever the tough guy, he went on as if he felt great. He also has a pinched nerve in his back that is causing pain from his back to his foot. Poor guy couldn't get comfortable driving and was nearly in tears, but proceeded on with a smile.

Friday night, we got to have Pizza King, a local fave with a friend. As I mentioned before, I met this woman on my last trip three years ago. She's such a sweetheart and has a genuine love of people and pets. We spent a couple hours chatting over pizza as if it'd not been three years since we last chatted. When I say chatted, I mean light to very deep conversation. Then, and thankfully so, we headed to her place to let the dogs play and stretch their legs in her back yard. Oh boy, that was exciting. They travel well, but definitely hate leashes and the lack of freedom in a fenced yard.

As we were leaving, I knew exactly how I felt about the evening. I was overwhelmed with love and joy. My friend hugged my husband as if she'd known him for years. As I hugged her, I found myself not wanting to let go. This kind of friendship is what I've been missing. I cannot wait to see her again and don't plan on it being another three years.

On Saturday, we met with friends for lunch. Our friends haven't lived in Indiana long, only a couple years. They will be moving to Taiwan in July to begin a longtime dream of serving people internationally. We had not seen them for several years, but kept in touch over social media. Again, it was as if no time had passed. We had a nice lunch, visiting and hearing about their impending move.

It was interesting to compare and contrast Indiana and Ohio. So many similarities, but Ohio definitely wins most redneck. They had similar experiences in searching for a church, not finding a Southern Baptist church like we'd come from. Also interesting, they've experienced feeling like outsiders there too. While their town is huge, the small communities are filled with people who've always been there. They've had a hard time finding where they fit.

Gosh! That made me feel even better about what I've experienced here. It's not just me! Again!

It was bittersweet saying goodbye to our friends. We are super excited for them. They've prayed for this opportunity for years. But we will miss them. It's unlikely our paths will have an opportunity to cross when they visit as long as we live in Ohio. I'm thankful we got the chance to see them.

On Saturday, we debated coming home early, but decided to take advantage of the time away. After lunch, we took a road trip. About 90 minutes south was the town where I stayed last time. In the town is a hot dog stand. We miss our occasional Saturday afternoon hot dog stand. We lived about 30 minutes from one. So dinner was at Genes Rootbeer. It's not as good as Mugs Up, but it was a fun drive. It was an extended drive because of construction, but worth it.

After hot dogs, we headed for Ivanhoes. Our friends recommended it. It's a hole in the wall restaurant and ice cream joint. Oh my goodness! First of all, I never get ice cream because of my fairy problem. But this place had dairy free. It was strawberry, which isn't a fave. However, I got it in an Aloha Sundae with pecans, coconut, bananas, pineapple and cherry. I didn't even ask how my husbands hot fudge shake was cause I was totally immersed in my Sundae.

After our long trip back, we packed up and planned for our Sunday drive home. This weekend was just what I've needed. As I feel more and more distance from my life and friends from a year ago, it gave me the encouragement to keep going.

The Changes

When I said there has been good over the past year, I was being honest. We are just a couple weeks shy of being here a year. While I am ready to put the past year behind me, I do have so much to be thankful for in it.

I have grown as a person and matured in my faith.

Just prior to moving, my faith was on shaky ground. Leaving our first church left me with a lot of questions and fears. From the moment we learned of the move, my faith began to mature and hasn't really stopped. That's not to say that I haven't questioned why things have happened, but ultimately my faith has grown stronger. I trust God more today than ever before. 

My relationship with my husband has never been better. Again, I won't say it has been perfect or that I haven't struggled with it at times. But, the love and respect we have for each other has never been so strong. We have learned to trust each other more. We have learned to rely on each other and be more reliable with each other. Living in a place where you only have each other can either drive you apart or together and it is has pushed us together.

I can't hardly believe the ways I have grown as a person. I have become softer, more caring and loving. It's a change I couldn't have manipulated within myself. It is all God. I have a greater capacity to love people, people I don't know and people I wouldn't typically like. I have found that it takes more to make me angry and I have a greater ability to forgive. I think I also have a better grasp on grace than I ever have. Keep in mind that what you see on the blog is only part of my life. 

One of the biggest changes is the direction of my life. We have long discussed me going back to school. That has finally happened. I am nearly finished with my first semester back in school and am scheduled to graduate next May. That's crazy to even think about. If we were still in KC, I'm not sure I'd be where I am at now. 

We are moving closer, inch by inch, to pursuing adoption. At the end of this year or beginning of next, we plan to get a bit more serious about the process. Had the past year not happened, I'm not sure we would have really addressed this part of our lives. 

Another big change is the emotional healing I have gained by living here. Despite the trials, I am emotionally healthier. I can't deny that I have hit some low points. Losing two babies devastated me and crippled me emotionally. I have fought loneliness. But none of it has kept me from healing.

I have learned to better appreciate friends. New and old, I have learned to not take for granted those who never leave your side. My goodness. While minimal in number, I know that good friendships have gotten me through the worst of times this past year. 

I know the next year will have trials. As my friend says, Jesus' life wasn't easy, I shouldn't expect mine to be. But, I hope that next year, I can look back and see all the ways I have matured and grown. I hope that beyond the trials, I can say that I survived and am better for it. 

Indiana Trip

Provided weather or travel did not prevent us, we should be in Indiana right now. It's not a vacation really, just a long weekend trip away.

The primary event taking us to Indiana is the Vera Bradley outlet sale. Let me tell you, that is a freak show! I might not be very girly, but I love purses and bags. Love might be a little strong. I enjoy making investments. These things hold their value for quite a while and I like making back money on things when I am done with them.

The first and last time I went to a sale was three years ago with friends. This trip back has been planned since then. Actually, it's been planned each year since but never happened. One year my husband's job got in the way and last year we were preparing for our move.

I am excited. Not about the shopping. The shopping isn't that fun. It's a long three hours of standing in lines and fighting for what I want. I'm excited about seeing some familiar faces.

Before we moved, we literally knew 13 people in this half of the country. My husband has an aunt and her family who live in Georgia. A guy from our first church and his family live about three hours from us here in Ohio. The others are all in Indiana.

A family from our first church live there. They are so incredibly sweet. They moved away from Missouri to Colorado and then to Indiana. We've watched their kids grow up over the past eight years.  The wife and I sang together in choir. Now that we live 3.5 hours apart, they are packing up to move again. They have been called to work, live and minister in Taiwan. We are so happy for them.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to get to see them one more time before they move. They are literally packing up now. It is so exciting to see how the Lord is and will use them abroad. I know the people of Taiwan will enjoy their kindness and embrace them.

We also get to see another friend, one I made three years ago. While in Indiana three years ago, I got to spend a lot of quality time with my friend's family. Through social media, her sister became a very dear friend. She has been so encouraging the last three years. I cannot wait to see her and hug her. She is the sweetest.

Not that things are absolutely terrible, I can't wait to see familiar faces and be with people who are so kind and loving. It'll be bittersweet to say goodbye to the family headed across the ocean.

Hopefully I will return with lots of freak stories to share and lots of love to encourage me.

A 4th

Two weeks ago, we got our fourth dog. He is now eight weeks old and is a Morkie Poo. That is a Maltese Yorkie/Poodle mix. He is all of two pounds completely full. If doggie genes prove correct, he should never get more than 15 lbs, unless we let him get porky.

Since I post pictures of the puppy cuteness on IG, a lot of my friends have said how cute he is. He is way cute! Not only that, but he is super smart. I don't say that like a parent thinks their baby is Einstein. We've had some dumb dogs. This little dog is intelligent.

At eight weeks old, he is almost potty trained. He knows when it is time for all the dogs to be fed. He isn't afraid of anything and he thinks he is a big dog already. He has even had a couple nights of sleeping for 5-7 hours straight.

Me on the other hand, I haven't slept much the past two weeks. Thankfully, I get to sneak in naps in the afternoon. I wouldn't trade it though. He has been such a joy for us. Oh my goodness, we laugh all evening long.

I have been quite puzzled by a few people who have questioned our need/desire for a fourth dog. Really? Yes, I've had a few people even go as far as to tell us it was a bad decision.

It isn't that I feel overly compelled to defend our decision, but it is quite simple.

We have looked at puppies since the end of last year. We have three perfectly happy dogs. However, they are all aging. Unfortunately for us, they are all about the same age. That has been great because they have all grown up together. They all require the same kinds of foods and care.

We do not want to get a few years down the road and lose all of our dogs within a short time and be left with none. We love our dogs and can't imagine not having at least a couple. We wanted a puppy and not a rescue this time, so we have a chance to train it to be the way we want. Rescues are great, but they come with bad habits that are hard to break. Rescues are usually not well loved before you get them and your focus has to be on earning trust and loving them instead of training.

With that being said, we know our aging dogs are getting a bit crotchety the older they get. They become less playful and more snippy. We wanted to bring a puppy in before it was too late. A puppy can also energize a middle aged dog as they play and try to keep up. The time was right for us.

The timing was really right for us or we wouldn't have done it. I am home all day, almost everyday. That is making potty training much easier. We also have the space. We never felt over run by three dogs in our KC house. Our KC house was about 600 square feet smaller. So, we definitely felt like we had plenty of space with a fenced yard.

Not that I took the time to explain all that to the few people who questioned our choice. I think each time, I was a little shocked. I wasn't hateful, but I did change the subject.

Here's the thing. I don't mind friends questioning my choices. I appreciate the chances to think through things or even hear a different perspective. I don't ever think that I make perfect choices every time. My husband and I both just make the decision we feel is best for us at the time with the resources we have.

There's another side to that. Not everyone gets to do that. If you are going to question my choice about getting a dog, you had better be a good enough friend to have questioned me on things that mean something. If you don't know me well enough to question my thoughts on faith or major decision in life, then you probably don't have any validity in questioning a dog choice.

Like I said, I am respectful at the time. But your opinion doesn't go very far in encouraging me to consider my choices.

There's a reason to bring that up. I had a conversation recently with someone I respect. It was about how you really have to get to know someone before you speak into their lives. That's hard to do when you see them making mistakes or have genuine concern for them. Your voice has no validity if your relationship isn't any deeper than surface.

I think that is a valid point in any confrontation that you have with anyone. The key to really making a difference in anyone's life or learning to be a friend has a lot to do with developing that relationship first.

A Homeless Man in a Rain Storm

Yesterday, my schedule opened up and I used the time to go enjoy lunch with my husband. Even though he works only a few miles from home, we don't have lunch together often. So, we enjoy those days when we are able to have that extra 30 minutes together.

While we were eating lunch, the sky turned black, the winds started to howl and the rain came down in sheets. We were having one of our first big thunderstorms of the seasons. It was in and out within 30 minutes. Driving home, the winds whipped the car across the road. The rain was coming down so hard, I couldn't see the lines on the highway.

The wind was horrible. A few houses down our road, the wind tore the siding off an older farm house and littered the yard and fields next to it. We've not had a lot of bad weather here and God willing, we won't either.

This isn't really what this is about.

Just passed where my husband works is the police station and homeless shelter. It's really common to see people walking up and down the road. They are either going to the shelter or to the police station for court or probation checks.

I'm not going to lie, some of the characters look pretty sketchy. A lot of the people heading to the police station have lost their license and are down on their luck.

Homeless people and those walking to the police station are certainly not something I am used to seeing. There may have been homeless people in our suburb, but we never saw them. All of the homeless shelters were in the inner city. When we saw people walking, it was for exercise or kids who couldn't yet drive. Even though it's a much smaller town, its something that we aren't used to at all.

Because I lived in the city for 16 years, I am conditioned to not pick up strangers. Since I have a general fear of strangers, I likely wouldn't anyway. But there are times when seeing these people breaks my heart.

I don't ever think that they deserve that walk of shame. I never think that caring for them lies with someone else. I never look down on them. I pray for them. My heart aches for them. I often want to be able to help them or offer them a ride. Being a female and alone, I know it just isn't safe to pick them up about 95% of the time.

Then there are the other 5% of the time. Those are the times that I don't stop because I'm alone, but I should. I don't really know how to balance my own safety and do what is right.

Last summer, I saw a couple ladies walking the stretch of road who were very pregnant. It was hot and I wanted to give them a ride to help them out. Most of them had scary looking men with them. I now that shouldn't have been the deciding factor, but it was.

Today was another time. It was a man. I've seen him before. He has no legs and is in a wheelchair. He was about four blocks from the shelter in the middle of the storm. I know I couldn't have helped him in a way that was safe for either of us. He would have needed some lifting for himself and his wheelchair into my car. I don't have the upper body strength nor the back for that.

But why did everyone else pass him by? Men in trucks, one by one, passed him by and even splashed him with water from pot holes. Even a police officer passed by without stopping. My heart broke for him. I don't have a clue what I could have done. The only thing I could have done was stand in the rain with him.

I know in this, my heart is firmly grounded in the Word of God. The bible says whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me. When you refused to help the least of these, you were refusing me.

An older man with no legs in a wheelchair is the least of these. How can I be the hands and feet of Jesus to these people? They need it. They need to know that regardless of their mistakes, despite their circumstances, they are loved. Just because I live in my own house doesn't mean I am better than them, it means I am prepared to love them in spite of what the world has done to them.

I'm praying for a clear direction. Not so I don't have to feel the heartache, but so I can show these people love.

I Can't Be There

As we roll through April and our 12th month here, there's a lot of reflecting being done. I promise, there are happier posts to come. It hasn't all been bad and there have been great times even in the midst of tough times.

One of the toughest things about our move has been the distance between us and family and friends. The absolute hardest is being here when friends are going through trials.

With me not having a job and having a flexible schedule, I was able to spend the last few years in KC being with, helping and caring for our friends when they were in need. I loved being able to serve our friends in those ways.

My schedule allowed me to cook meals, babysit children, sit at the hospital and much more. While I loved being able to help, I usually hated the situation. There's rarely a good reason your friends are in the hospital or in need.

Thanks to a dear friend, I learned how to walk into someone's mess and be useful. She also taught me how to assess people's needs while respecting boundaries. Most people, in their pride, will decline help even when they are in dire need. I know, I'm usually one of them. She taught me how to lovingly push into that pride and lighten their load during a tough time.

Obviously, serving people in that way really hasn't happened here. I know God has a plan and will use me when the time is right.

But, I can't help but feel helpless when I know my friends back in KC are in need. I can't be there. I want to be, but I can't.

Since we have been here, we've had friends who've lost loved ones and we couldn't be there for them. We've had friends who've been sick and needed meals. We've had friends sick who could have used help with little ones. We've missed it all.

We've prayed for them, which is about all we could do. But, it still leaves us feeling helpless. It is in those times that we have to trust that God with them as much, if not more, than we trust Him to care for us.

Before we moved, I had the privilege of serving a friend of mine with cancer. She was diagnosed a year before we moved, so she is on her second year of fighting cancer. Her diagnosis was hard for all of us. She is my age. She was active with young kids. She was also the first friend with cancer for some of us, at least one so young.

Her diagnosis wasn't just hard for us all to accept, so was her prognosis. Never during the past two years has she ever gotten a good prognosis.

She was diagnosed after a surgery on her abdomen. She had stomach issues for months that doctors had misdiagnosed. After surgery, she was told she had endometriosis and cancer. Later on, it was found that endometriosis wasn't present, but the colon cancer had spread.

I was extremely fortunate that during her couple hospitalizations, I got to spend a lot of time with her. We had some amazing conversations about faith, life and her children. The size of her trial was nothing compared to the size of her faith.

She had it rough. Her surgery left her with a mess and her chemo made her tired. But yet, her faith stayed even bigger.

I found out today that she has suffered a stroke. I have only few details. Even if I were there, I wouldn't be able to do anything. The kind of care she needs now is far beyond what any of her friends can give. We can only pray. And given the situation, we can only pray that God's will be done. As hard as it is, my faith in this has to be bigger than her trial. God loves her and is with her even in this.

But, this is one of those times it is so hard to be so far away. Even if I can't do anything for my friend, I wish I were crying amongst our friends today.

Easter Sacrifice

Easter is, or at least should be, an emotional time for Christians. It is the three days that fulfilled prophesy and secured our place in heaven. Without the violent death of Christ and his resurrection, we would be bound to a death we deserve and we would have no hope of ever being with our Creator.

Today, Good Friday, I am filled with many emotions.

There is a natural sadness that I have so little self control over my sin that a living being had to die a horrific death. I'm thankful for that sacrifice, but saddened by it. I know sin dates back a lot further than me, but I carry it on. I hate it and I should.

Sunday will be the culmination of our celebration. The day we look forward to, the day that made the sacrifice worth celebrating. Sunday we celebrate the day Jesus arose from the grave. They checked, He was not there. He had overcome death.

Easter also tends to be a bit of a trigger for me. I have written about it before, so I won't belabor the story. A family friend and church ladies bought me an Easter dress and shoes for church services when I was in elementary school. My dad was absolutely against me going to church and had no idea I was sneaking off to services as often as I could.

This particular Easter, he planned a harsh punishment for me after church. In my new clothes and shoes, he drug me to the garage once I arrived home. I assumed there would be a beating, but had no idea what was about to happen. He set the dress on fire with me in it and left me to save myself. I did manage to get the dress and shoes off. I suffered burns across my lower back where he had initially set the bow of my dress on fire and blisters on my feet where the shoes had started to melt from burning lace that had dropped onto them.

At the time, I took the punishment very personally. I was punished because he hated me. I understand now that it wasn't about me at all. My dad hated God and hated that I was being exposed to it. My dad setting my dress on fire wasn't as much about hurting me but making me not want God. That worked. I didn't want to go back. What was happening was a spiritual warfare over my soul that I wouldn't really grasp until I understood the evil inside my dad.

I didn't die over my desire for church, but I could have. I was injured physically and traumatized emotionally. It is of no comparison, but there are people being put to death for their faith.

Just yesterday, 147 people were executed because they admitted they were Christians. Even though they watched others being killed, they boldly proclaimed to be Christians when asked. They were forced onto the floor, face down and shot in the head.

I'm not sure I could do that. I should be able to. Jesus bled and died for me. He willingly went to the cross so that I could have eternal life with my true Father. He died a horrific death so that I could one day escape the evil of this world. Would it not be right for me to sacrifice my life in His name?

The truth is I'm a coward. I'm fearful. I'm so stuck in my sin of unbelief that I would choose this world over eternal life.

I know it is all part of sanctification. I know that nobody truly knows what they would do unless they were actually in that situation. But I know my faith is weak. I admire those 147 people who were executed on the eve of this holy weekend. They ultimately chose their faith over the world, over their own fears. In that moment, they showed no unbelief.

I have so much gratitude for what Jesus did, what God did for us. I pray that my faith someday reflects my thankfulness for the gift of the sacrifice.