Belief in Prayer

A few days ago, as I chatted with my sister-in-law about a new job that she was applying for, one of her regular patrons at her current place of employment came forward and proceeded to discuss with her that he would pray for her and that the situation, which she was torn about, would resolve itself exactly as it should.

He asked her if she believed that by praying for God to help with the new job, that she would indeed get the new job. She bumbled around, because she's torn about leaving one job for another. Yet his words struck something inside my head.

How often do I believe that what I'm praying for will happen?

Like how often I pray for something to happen, or for some guidance and I don't exactly get the response I was hoping for. If I even get a response. Apparently I'm giving up before I've even asked for what it that I want. Sucks to be a pessimist. Yet, I keep praying, but while I'm praying and hoping, there is a part of me that is telling myself that the odds of whatever it is that I'm asking for, aren't going to happen.

I've thought about it a lot the last few days, and I know that while my husband and I were trying to desperately to get pregnant and I was praying and bartering and begging with God, that a part of me believed that it just wasn't going to happen. Yet, while my friend Andrea has battled cancer the last year, as her health took a left turn and she ran into some complications, I stopped praying for a miracle, but instead that God's will be done. I prayed for peace for her and her family, I prayed for comfort for those that needed it, but never once did I ask that she not die. Simply because she would have been totally pissed at me for asking for that. Every time that I would pray for her, I could hear her voice asking me what I was doing when I would pray for a miracle. She wasn't praying for one, why should I be. I think that's why I've had...(searching for the right word here)...peace, comfort, even joy at the situation. Simply because she was okay with this alternative too. She's not in pain, she's not feeling guilty about missing out on her children's Halloween parties, and soccer games. I know that she'd rather have stuck around to watched her children grow up, she would be perfectly content with this alternative too as long as she knew it was what God's plan was.

I've had enough faith for things to work out for her and her family just like God would have wanted, just like she would have wanted, but I can't have the same amount of faith for my own life. Thanks to the misery of the last few months with my gallbladder, I had lost some weight, mostly because I wasn't eating. Thankfully (well not so much), I've managed to hold steady, and even gained a few pounds back. Yet the last few days, I've struggled. I don't like that number on the scale, and I've asked for strength. I need to get to a healthy weight, I want to get to a healthy weight, so I can be around and annoy my husband as long as possible. Yet, while I'm asking for strength to stick with it, part of me doubts that I'll ever do it. Which is probably the reason that I can't get the scale to move, unless I'm literally starving.

Part of me doubts that college will ever be more than a hassle again; that I'll never actually enjoy it again. School starts back next month, and for the first time since I started back, I dread it. Even with the lack of stuff to do at work, I just don't want to go back. I still want the degree, it's just lost its charm. Thus the crappy grades, lack of motivation to do homework, and general hate of it all in general.

Then there is the ever present infertility issues. Part of me wants to believe that if I lose enough weight I'll miraculously get pregnant. Yet, as I'm praying for strength to stick with going to the gym and eating better, part of me believes that it will never happen, and thus getting pregnant will never happen.

It's a vicious cycle, but someone has to stick with it. Although, for my sanity, I'd just as soon as it not be me.

So I've found myself wondering if by not having more faith that it will work out the way it was meant to, that in turn it's not working out the way it should.

If I don't believe that God can do it, then why should he prove to me that he can?

So, that's going to be my resolution for today, for tomorrow, and for everyday for the rest of my life; is to trust that God has my best interests at heart. I know he does, but I've got to learn to remove all doubts that between the two of us, I'm capable. Everyone else thinks I am, so I should too. I'm also going to have to believe his voice when he tells me to be patient; to believe that what I'm praying for will happen. That the child I so desperately want will come, that the weight loss will happen and the pounds will melt away, and that college will not steal my happiness, but add to it again. I'll resolve to have more faith in God and in my abilities and less doubt, because the only person who is being cheated and missing out is me.

Well, and my sanity.

Suppose I Do....

Note: I wrote this post last September. So ignore the back to school references, and just pretend that I haven't had this sitting in my drafts for 6 months.


All across West Texas this morning, thousands of alarms were heard, thousands of cries of cranky children, and glorious shouts of joy were heard as everyone got up and headed back to school. (You know, back in August when I actually wrote this, so please allow for a small time delay, you've been warned.)

Unfortunately I wasn't immune. Not because I'm a teacher, or because I have children, but because I'm crazy and decided to continue to finish my degree. I keep hoping someone will invent a cure for crazy. I'd do it, but I'm an accounting major, not chemistry.

Sitting in church yesterday morning, after our pastor made a comment, that at the moment I can't remember. I'm blaming it on sleep deprivation and all the info that has been thrown my way today. My mind wandered a little.

More on that later. Simply because you need info for this to make sense. You know, in case you are just tuning in. And because I want to confuse you totally before you get to the good stuff.

My husband and I spent a couple of years (a lot of years ago) doing infertility treatments. We made the choice to continue on child-free, at least for the time being. Yet, there was some part of both of us that won't let go of that hope that someday, somehow, someway we will have that child that we both so want.

So as our pastor was discussing how they were rebuilding and how they were doing it together, and next to, and beside each other, and how all of these people were doing what they needed to do to get the job done, he said something that I just couldn't stop hearing over and over in my head.

And I'm not really sure if he actually said it, or if it was just how I took it. Maybe both. Because I seriously didn't know how my husband would feel about me scrambling to write down exactly how it came across, which by the way honey, no more not doing that, I'll regret it later. Especially since the frenzy would be so I could write a post for you to read.

Pastor B said something about trusting that they were doing what they were always meant to do. That they were following God's plan. That they were trusting God's plan, and that in the middle of the horrible, unbelievable, most horrific moment, God was right there.

It's so easy to tell someone else that, but it's much harder, especially for a control freak like myself, to believe it. I've given lots of situations over to God. I've given him my grandfather's life, I've given him my husband's, my marriage, I've handed over job loss and the unknown when there is no income coming in, I've even given him parts of my life. Not all of it, just parts of it. Because there's this one area that I just can't seem to let go of. I want to, but just about the time that I reach out to hand it over, my heart wants to cling to it.

Yet yesterday morning, sitting in that chair, in that freezing worship center, I heard God tell me to be patient. To have faith. To let it go. Trust. I've got some fabulous plans, ones that even you won't argue with.

Yep, apparently God is sarcastic. He knows what gets my attention.

It's not the first time, I've heard those words either.

Obviously you can see a pattern here too. And here. And here.

I still haven't obeyed. I still haven't managed to let her go.

Yes, I said her.

I've never doubted that I would have a little girl. There is nothing wrong with little boys, and the more time I spend with a certain 4 year old, I'd take one of them too. But I always known that there would be a little girl in there too. No matter what, I would have a girl. I've seen her face, I've dreamed about her. I've smelled her. I've held her. No, not in my arms, but I've dreamed about her for so long, that she's as real to me as my nieces and nephews. She's beautiful, she's perfect, she's everything that I always imagined she would be, but that's made her so much harder to give up. That's what's made it so much harder to walk away from.

Saturday I thought that my dogs might not live to see another day. Every behavioral issue with them was magnified about a bajillion times. They whined, they barked, they escaped, they got in the trash, they got mud in my car because they felt the need to escape. Everything that they did that annoyed me, they did it twice, and way worse than usual. So I lost my patience, I might have grabbed one, and held their sweet little face in my hands and told them that if they didn't quit, I would send them to the other side of town to the burrito place with questionable ingredients. I think they knew I was serious, because they backed off. Yet, if it had came down to it, I couldn't have walked up to some random stranger and given them away. I'm not sure I could even hand them over to my parents.

Insert smoke, and the Jeopardy theme song. You know, while the wheels are turning.

No, I wouldn't want to do it, but yeah, I could.

Well, crap. This wasn't the direction that this was supposed to be going.

Maybe that's why this issue keeps coming up. Because I refuse to have faith that God has my best interests at heart. I've seen to many close calls that should have ended differently to not believe that God is way more brilliant and has a better plan in mind. I keep going back to January when John lost his job. I love his job now, and if I had pushed him to take the job that he was offered making $9 an hour, we would be barely getting by. I'd be so stressed and so worried about how we were going to pay this bills while I went to school and only got a part time paycheck instead of a full time paycheck. But because I trusted John that this company was going to offer him the job. I believed that God would take care of us. I took a big leap of faith. Big. And 6 months later, we are fine. Because I let go.

Too bad there isn't a class that teaches letting go. Of course, I'd probably fail it. Several times.

Letting go is hard for me. I analyze everything. Every.thing. And then, I try and predict how each possible outcome will actually work out, so that I can try and predict the future. I try to manipulate everything to what I could have said different or done different or...anything different. I know that until I learn to let it go, it's going to do nothing but cause me undue heartache and headaches. It's going to be an area of my life that I second guess, and that will continue to break my heart.

"Some people think it's holding on that makes you strong. Sometimes it's letting go." ~Sylvia Robinson

"When God takes something from your grasp, He's not punishing you, but merely opening your hands to receive something better." ~Author Unknown

Andrea

I've wanted to write this post for weeks now. Yet, I just couldn't seem to find the words. And even after I found the words, it would be 2 more weeks before you would actually get to read it. Simply because I wasn't ready.

When John and I got married in 1999, I acquired his family, and I acquired Andrea and her family as well. Andrea was the daughter of John's father's best friend. They've been friends since junior high, so Andrea and her big brother Joe, literally grew up with John. He's known them since he was born. John's dad has now been friends with this guy for more than half his life.

A couple of years ago, thanks to all the drama that we have been through with my inlaws, my sister-in-law Jean, was at the library where Andrea worked complaining about me. You know, how I was evil and should be destroyed. Andrea made a comment about how she didn't believe it was true, Jean said that Andrea didn't know me, and Andrea quickly resolved to rectify that situation.

A beautiful and glorious friendship began. We were privileged enough to spend the next couple of years getting to know Andrea, her husband and her precious kidlets. We were blessed enough to spend the last year doing what we could to keep Andrea's spirits up and make the bad days less sucky. And even though to an outsider it would look like we were doing all the work, our lives were certainly enriched by the care packages we delivered and the time we spent with Andrea and her family. See, at 33 she was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer in January of 2012.

Andrea and I joked that we were separated at birth. Where I as strong, she was weak and vice versa. I'm quite sure she was the sane, rational part of my brain, she would probably agree.

Andrea and I managed to build a friendship unlike one I've ever had before. She's the only person who I couldn't put on my "happy face" for. Because we were so much alike, we both knew that the other was just telling us what we wanted to hear. Thankfully neither of us was afraid of calling the other a liar and getting to the bottom of whatever the current trouble was. We both walked away feeling better about whatever situation we were facing. Our relationship forced me to be utterly honest with her about the struggles with infertility, with my inlaws, with my own family, and she could help me find peace about the situation, or any situation really. Of course, I could provide perspective about moments in her life too. Like the night she cried when she missed her kid's Halloween plans because she couldn't be exposed to that many germs because of her weakened immune system due to the chemo treatments. She was busy getting better, better that her kids missed her for one night instead of a lifetime. Of course, I had no way of predicting the future, but my reassurance that she wasn't a bad mother was enough to provide her some peace and ease the guilt.

She taught me how to worry less and let life happen more. There wasn't much that chips and hot sauce wouldn't fix, or at least soothe. She taught me that I'm stronger than I think, and that it's okay to slow down, to say no, and to not make an offer I didn't want to hold up in the first place. She taught me to to hand over more of life's little inconveniences to God, like job loss, sucky exam grades, and burnt biscuits. She taught me that there was nothing better than texting about our husband's when they went off to the lease for the weekend. We probably saved each other years of therapy and marriage counseling.

Andrea had the ability to make you feel like you were the most important person in the room when you were around. She was tons of fun, and thanks to her and relationships that she had cultivated with other people, I've gained a few new friends that I'd like to get to know better. They certainly can't replace the relationship that I had with Andrea, but they can certainly add to my life and they already have. Andrea had the ability to put things in perspective, even if it wasn't a situation that she fully understood. She also had an amazing capacity for forgiveness and she truly understood and practiced the "turn the other cheek" concept.

From the moment of her diagnosis of Stage IV colon cancer, to the emergency surgery which removed her colon, ovary and appendix, she never believed that the whole situation wasn't trucking along exactly like it was supposed to be. She might not have always liked the results or the outcome, but she fully believed in "rolling with the punches and giving it to God". And she did. She showed amazing strength and a fighting spirit when most people would have caved under the disappointment of another setback.

There were moments of laughter and moments of tears. There were moments that I would have gladly traded places with her, and moments she probably wouldn't have given up even if it meant a different outcome. Even though I can't send her a text message or find her sitting in her chair at her home, she's still here. I hear her voice every time John irritates me about something, her offer of "Do I need to take care of him?". I hear her voice every time I've had a moment of self loathing over school. "Girl, I did the 13 year plan, it's not a race." I hear her every time I see her kids. She's in her daughter's laughter and joy over a Christmas gift. She's in her son's fearlessness. She's in her husband's stubbornness. She's in every yellow or purple butterfly I see. She's in the purple shirts I own, simply because it was her favorite color. She's in the moments of doubt, I can hear her telling me to not worry so much that it will all work out in the end. And you know what, she's right.

I can hear her voice telling me how much she loves "you guys". I can even hear her now as I type this, saying "sheesh" that she doesn't deserve all the hoopla. She'd even be slightly annoyed that this post is literally, all about her. Yet, this is probably one of the few places she is wrong. Her friendship literally changed my life.

I'm pretty sure what I posted on Facebook on December 4th sums it all up

"I've thought all day about what I wanted to say to you on this space. As I picked out my purple shirt today and the bracelet with the yellow and purple butterflies. I've thought about the text messages, the phone calls, the date nights, the Christmas shopping expedition of 2011. I've thought about your infectious laughter, your "hey guys!" greeting, and your sweet smile. I've thought about the strength you've shown through the treatments, doctor's appointments, and the overwhelming pain. Yet tonight, as I hugged your husband, and I told him that he was stuck with me, I heard your laughter and your voice telling me to give him grief. Thank you for all the text messages, the phone calls, the emails, the friendship, and the love. You had such a huge impact on my life, in ways that I probably won't even realize for quite some time. Thank you for changing my life, and for letting me be a part of yours. Hold that tiny baby that was gone from my world too soon, and save me a seat, we will have lots to catch up on. I love you."

 

Today I'm thankful that I didn't really lose her. Sure, I can't sent her a text message or laugh about something her husband children did, but she's still here. I'm thankful that I'll see her again, and that she's no longer suffering from the pain and misery of cancer, but also from life's disappointments. I'm thankful, that because of her faith and choices that she has made I'll see her again. When the moments of grief and missing her seem to overwhelm me, I can just close my eyes and see her beautiful smile, and I know instant comfort and peace because she's exactly where she would want to be.

Deciding it's a Gift and not a Burden

Our pastor at church is in the midst of a unique series called "Servolution". It's about learning to, and giving us opportunities to serve others. Part of what started this whole thing is a lemonade stand that our church family will be running during the South Plains Fair.

This past weekend, Pastor B discussed how to find your spiritual gifts. My husband elbowed me several times during some of the options.

Yet, as I sat there, my mind wondered, about what my gifts were.

See, I always wanted to do something that made a difference. Apparently I should have been more specific, and I've definitely picked the wrong major if I wanted a career that made a difference. Although, I did pick my career based on something that I love to do, that I enjoy, which makes me excited to sit through millions of hours of classes each semester. Can crazy be a gift?

So as Pastor B talked, I wondered what I'm good at.

I'm a nurturer by nature. I like to do things for other people. My friend Andrea that was diagnosed with cancer this year can agree to that. I've shared the wealth more often than not, that she probably gets tired of the text messages involving care packages for dinner, breakfast, and dessert. Although, I totally love sharing. It's nice to make a cake, and have someone enjoy the other half of it, instead of the creatures that roam the dumpster in the dead of night. I'd rather not think about those creatures, because they have beady little eyes, full of evil, and long twitchy tails, and they are just roaming the streets looking for tasty morsels.

Fabulous, now I'm not going to want to let my dogs out when it's dark tonight. Fan-freaking-tastic.

I like to listen to people talk. Not necessarily joining in, but just listening and observing. You learn a lot about people that way. Another of my friends, wiggles her hands when she is discussing something she would rather not be talking about. She rubs on her fingernails, and constantly moves her fingers. My husband, avoids eye contact. He looks down when he would rather not have the conversation with you or even glancing away while talking to you. My mother-in-law likes to dictate the flow of conversation. She likes the subject to change when she has nothing else to say about it, not necessarily when the rest of the group is ready to move on. So it makes me observant, and when something interests me in the conversation, I add to it. Or manage to say something that pisses someone off, depends on who's around and how much sarcasm I used. Super powers shouldn't get you in so much trouble, should they?

Back to Servolution. They were asking for volunteers, and frankly I miss church when we don't go. I never regret it. In fact, I have this amazing analogy that will probably have me skinned for making on my blog.

Church is like sex. Once I get there, I wonder why we don't go more often. Or why we don't have sex more often. Not while we are at church, but just in general. My husband goes to bed at 6pm. I have homework. You do the math. It's not easy to do either, but it's always worth it in the end.

 

Sorry John. Aunt D. My old youth minister's wife. Mom. Dad. Andrea.

 

 So volunteers. Well, they have this bible study at TTU on Thursday nights. So I thought, you know, maybe if I got to know some of the losers, underage hooligans, babies, youngins, fellow students, I might not feel like I'm all that much older than them. So because I had procrastinated, because let's face it, I'm not a people person. I don't like talking in front of crowds, or in front of small groups either. I don't like being put on the spot, even with people I know. So I hadn't emailed the guy in charge and told him that I would offer up my services. Just couldn't do it. So my husband drug me, by my hair, kicking and screaming to meet with the guy after church.

 

Here's how much I'm not a "people - person".

 

"Hi, I'm Abby Normal, and you don't know me, but I'm fantastic and you should."

 

Yep, totally said that. Still not sure why, but I was nervous, and I say goofy stuff. And that was just talking to him with no one but my husband as a witness. So I spewed out that I went back to school, blah blah blah, did he need help on Thursdays. All the while, praying he would say no. So apparently, the 30th, I'm serving pizza and bottles of water to college students, and trying not to vomit or say something goofy. It's going to be interesting to say the least. Will I regret doing it, probably not. But for the next 3 years, because that's probably how long it will take for me not to want to hurl before I walk in the door, I'll do it. Because, believe it or not, part of me would like to step out of my comfort zone.

 

The other part of me, well, she would like to find something that makes a difference. Not necessarily so that I can feel good about what I'm doing for someone else, but so that I can feel good about who I am again. Because somewhere along the way, I've lost that girl who wasn't afraid to take on the world. I've lost the girl who wanted her life to matter, not to someone else, but to myself. I'd like to find her, before I get older and have any regrets about what I could have done, if I'd only been less selfish, and less afraid of talking to strangers.

My mom should be so proud, apparently she nailed the "don't talk to strangers" lesson, since it still works on a 25, 29, 30, 32 year old.

The Planned Leap of Faith

Several days ago a friend on Facebook posted something that I’ve pondered about for days.

She took the scenic route home one night, and had her two kids in the car. They approached a red light, and saw a homeless man holding a sign asking for money for McDonald’s or Wendy’s because he was hungry and homeless. Her oldest boy (who is 3-4 years old) wanted her to stop and get the guy some food. He kept pointing out the McDonald’s and Wendy’s locations where she could stop. However, (no judgement here) she didn’t stop. She told her kids that their dad was waiting and maybe some other time.

I can relate. A lot.

She continued on about why didn’t she trust.

I can relate. A lot.

I’ve pondered over what she wrote for days. I’ve thought about the last few months, heck the last year of my life and wondered when I quit trusting. I’m not talking about not trusting that the homeless guy wouldn’t hurt me or my family, but when did I quit trusting myself, my husband, my marriage, my relationships.

I’m hard on myself. Really hard. I like things to go according to plan. I like things to be perfect. I like to know the future and make sure that something is doable. I even like to plan out all the steps to my leaps of faith. But that makes it not a leap, but just the next step. Yet, when the tiniest thing screws up my “plans” my world is completely turned upside down. There is no room for error, or even to recover, so that tiny pebble in the road, suddenly becomes a boulder, and everything else seems more difficult and more complicated than it should have been.

A few days ago we purchased a new car. After prodding from a friend the night before not to worry so much and think about things so much, I told my husband to just do it. He was rather surprised. Okay, scared the hell out of him is probably a little more accurate. He was so confused by the very sudden, change of heart. He was right, we needed to do it. We needed to quit relying on my parents and their patience with the use of their additional car. So, thankfully I didn’t freak out while he was signing the papers, but the payments were a little more than I wanted. Only $40 more, but still. When we had the total amount of our monthly payment, I added it up with our rent and our truck payment. I very nearly cried. It’s a lot of money. It’s a lot of money when you are terrified that something will go wrong. It’s-a-lot-of-money-when-you-only-work-part-time-and-if-your-husband-loses-his-job-you-will-be-homeless. So I might have freaked out after we left the dealership. I said might have. However, if questioned and even tortured I will deny everything.

When did I stop trusting? Why didn’t I have faith that things would be okay? That God would provide for us? He most certainly did when my husband lost his job in January. We didn’t have to borrow money from anyone to pay the bills. We got by. I was trying to focus on school and not worry so much, and things turned out fine. In fact I told my husband when he was offered one job that the pay was slightly above minimum wage, that if he wanted to hold out and see what happened, he could. I’d like to find that girl. I’m quite sure she only shows up in periods of sleep deprivation.

I’ve always hesitated. I’ve always planned. It takes months of planning for something most people can decide in a few minutes.

I am scared.

I listen to the doubts that creep into my mind of all the possibilities and of all the things that can go wrong.

At what point did that become okay? What about all the other things I make excuses about because I’m scared of what the outcome might be? That list is long. What about all the things I'm afraid to try to attempt because I'm scared of the outcome? That list is very, very long. Which is unfortunate, not only for myself but for John, and for our friends and our family, because they are missing out on the wonderful experiences that I'm too afraid to follow through with.

There is so much going on in my life that I’m terrified of failing. There are so many things that I want the outcome to be good. No better than good, amazing, magnificent. Yet, those excuses keep popping back up.

I’m never good enough. I’ll never graduate. I’ll never pass all my classes. I won’t lose the weight this time either. I won’t be enough. I’ll let my friend Andrea down. I’ll let my friend Amber down. I’ll say the wrong thing. I’ll do the wrong thing. I'll never measure up. I'll never be enough.

I won’t trust.

Them, or myself or anything.

Sure, I’m still terrified, I still want to “what if” every single decision to death. Yet, if I don’t trust myself, my husband, my friends, or my family – then what am I doing? Other than adding gray to my hair and wrinkles to my face, which my husband does an amazing job of pointing out.

There are a variety of things that have nagged me for months. That have tried to push me into taking that leap of faith. Yet, I've resisted. Even the sermon at church yesterday was motivated at me following through and trusting myself. Talk about divine intervention.

So I'm trying. I'm trying not to think every single situation to death. I'm trying not to let that little voice that tells me I can't, or that I'm not good enough just ramble. Then when I get so tired of it, I'm stuff a bandanna in her mouth and sending her to the corner.



Borrowed from Mt. Hope Chronicles

I need to learn how to be a good friend, a good wife, a good daughter. To stop hesitating. To stop second guessing. To stop letting the excuses control my thoughts and my actions. Before I realize that it’s too late.

I Just Hope

Read this first. Infertility: 3 things to ask God for

This was typed to the very, very wonderful friend in response to this link. I just couldn't not share it. Don't worry, I won't share her response.

I love you so very, very much. So I'll forgive you for making me cry. : )


I'd stopped thinking about having a baby. In fact I didn't cry the last facebook friend who announced their pregnancy. I was having one of those rare moments of joy at our life.
Then stupid concert Saturday. It's all their fault. One of their sponsors for the tour is World Vision. They are a group that allows you to sponsor a child in a 3rd world country. I ended up having to actually go to their website, because about halfway through the video I was thinking about how different my life would be if I had a child. I get to play full time college student and worker bee, and I couldn't do that with a baby. Then again, there are days that I think about the baby we lost. He would have turned 8 in February. The 12th to be exact. That was my due date. I asked Brad a few years ago, if he knew what that date was. He didn't. I was heart broken for weeks. Now, it just seems to sneak up on me. I was getting ready to go to bed this year when the thought hit me.
I never made it to my first doctor's appointment. I had a miscarriage the night before. That was the hardest phone call I think I've ever had to make.
We have talked about adoption. We have talked about doing a round of in-vitro. I don't know what to do. So I pray. I pray that I'll pay attention and not let fear, or the timing stop me from following through. I pray that I won't be so self absorbed that I'll do what God wants. I pray for hope. Hope that my marriage survives. Hope that my heart doesn't break. Hope that I don't say the wrong thing to a friend who is pregnant, or to a friend that whines about her morning sickness, or her swollen ankles, or the sleepless nights. I hope that I don't avoid them so much that I hurt them, because I can't get over it. I hope that I can avoid the baby dedication and mother's day services at church. Because it's just another reminder. I want to hate mother's day and father's day, because infertiles are forgotten. We still have to celebrate with our own mothers, grandmothers, sisters, friends. I didn't cry last year, for the first time in 8 years. I didn't go to church either, but I didn't cry.

You want to be hopeful, but at the same time you have to be realistic because month after month, after month of disappointment gets old. You want to fit in, because suddenly you feel like the kid who always got pick last in gym class. The kid that no one wanted to eat lunch with because they were a little different. Sunday school classes don't know what to do with you. Apparently neither do pastors.

The drugs made me crazy. Hot flashes, cramps, mood swings, tender breasts, and morning sickness. I was miserable, and the cruelty of all of the symptoms of pregnancy without the baby was just... cruel. Add that to the stress of planned sex, which sounds like every guys fantasy, but after following doctors orders, and you have to preform on certain dates, it becomes a chore. Then, watching your bank account vomit out money so fast that it makes your head spin. It's just so overwhelming and so..alienating.

Then add the jealousy. The why can that 400 pound lady have 15 kids that she can't afford and I can't have just one. Your jealous of pregnant women, of women with children, of women without children, simply because it's still their choice. It doesn't feel like it's been taken away from them yet. It's unfair, you cry, you rant, you apparently sit down on a pallet of dog food in the middle of Walmart and cry about the injustice of it all. Not that I've ever done that.

Then you realize at that moment, surrounded by dog food, that this isn't the answer either. Of course, you then realize that the dog food aisle has a distinct smell, and the you hope you can find somewhere inconspicuous to throw up. Not that I've done that either. : )

You lose yourself, and find yourself all at the same time. Which had nothing to do with how this started, but I got a little carried away. : ) Apparently there is the blog post I've been looking for.

Back to Saturday. I'm wondering. If I'm not being pushed in another direction. That little voice in my head keeps telling me that there are different ways to have a child. I don't know if that means that I should sponsor a child. I don't know if that means that I should call this friend that works at Bruckners as a social worker, who lucky for me, has faced infertility and won. She has a 4 year old, and 8 month old twin girls. She did treatments to get them all. She told me, whenever I was ready to call her and she would tell me what my options were. I don't know if I should call an adoption agency. I don't know. Lost is an understatement.

It's a call I'm not ready to make, just yet. Not because I can't see myself loving a child that isn't mine. Just because I don't want to give up on having my own just yet. I'm trying so hard to not hang on to that and miss an opportunity. I'm trying to let that baby go.

I'm also, probably much to Brad's great disgust, attempting to lose weight again. I've kickboxed, this week, which I haven't done in months. I'm trying to pay more attention to what I'm eating. I think that part of me hopes that the doctors might be right and my weight is an issue, and that the other part hopes not, because I don't want the reason that we couldn't have a baby was because I wouldn't starve myself to lose weight. I think he is afraid to find out the truth too.

When the whole situation gets me down, I pray for peace. I pray for contentment. So that I can stop the fighting between my head and my heart, and that I can be thankful and find contentment in the friends and family that let me spoil their children and crash their t-ball games and love their kids.

I also pray for understanding so I don't choke my mother when she tells me the latest cure all that she found on the internet. And I just pray I don't snap where my in-laws are concerned, because their issues are way to many to list in a single request.

I like guided prayer too. I also like answers. I'm not patient. However, once I stopped being so stubborn, the only thing I hear when I ask when is it going to be my turn is "Be patient. Not yet." I just hope I will be ready. I just hope I won't hold on so tightly that I miss my chance.

I just hope.

A Lesson In Patience

It's hard to believe that my husband will have been unemployed one month to the day on Saturday. It's hard to believe that for all of the jobs that he has applied for nothing, has made it official yet, that is until today.

And now he has two job offers. Two. Which sounds all kinds of awesome, except for the wife who worries. And if you want to meet her, well, she is the one who's going to write this post today.

She's the one who worries that everything won't work out and that the rent will be due and that will mean money pulled out of the savings account that she doesn't want to touch, for fear that we will need that money later. Even though technically we need it now. So she's the freak who is writing this post today.

Amazingly so I, er she, hasn't been as freaked out about this unemployment period as she should have been, as she typically would have been. She has tried to remain calm and not panic. Yet as the days continue to pass, and with two offers on the table (one of which has no been turned down), she feels the need to panic. Because what if...

-something goes wrong and they change their mind
-he doesn't pass the physical
-he doesn't really like the job
-I don't really like his job

And the list goes on and on. She's trying to be patient. She's trying to trust God for a change instead of pushing her husband into taking the safe route. She's trying.

This job, well, it's kinda the job that dreams are made of. It's making more money than the job he lost. It's for a good, solid company, with some excellant benefits. It offers the possibility of promotions and a career instead of just a job, and let's face it, I'm (so is she) a find a career job, not just a paycheck. Because every job that I've had, I've loved. Could be why I've had so few jobs in my life, I've been lucky, very lucky. They like him enough, that they are already thinking of promotions for him, based on his experience and him.

I...er she talked, via text message to a good friend last week, and her response was "God is good!"

Yes, yes he is. The job is amazing. He has orientation on Monday at 10am. So the job is basically his. Just one more hurdle to overcome. One that I'm hoping will open his eyes to some other areas of his life that need some attention and some work as well.

Heck, it's some areas that my her life chould use as well.

It's funny, I've felt God's presence in my life more in the last month than I think I have my entire life. Sure, I've felt his precense in the weeks after my grandfather died, and the weeks that Papa laid in the hospital, waiting. But instead of comfort, it was peace and a lack of worry that I was given. I'm pretty sure that last Friday I heard laughter and the voice that had an "I told you so" quality about it telling me "See what happens when you let go of things and let me take care of it."

Point taken.

Then for half a moment I wondered just how different my life would be, if I could give my infertility away like that. I've wondered a dozen or more times if that little girl that I've dreamed about might be a reality by now, if I had just been patient, and had more faith in God's timing instead of my desire for right this minute.

I've also learned that it's ok that I haven't given up on her. That voice reassured me that "I'm not supposed too" give up on her just yet.

*Note to the family reading this - no, I'm not pregnant. No, I'm not going to be attempting to get pregnant. But I know that I'm not holding on to that little girl so tightly that I'm missing out on the child I could have if I would fill out the adoption paperwork. I believe with all my heart that isn't what we are supposed to do. So I'm not giving up, I'm just going to keep going. Like I've done every single day for that last 6 years. I'm going to hope, that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Finding Faith

Last Friday I posted the following post on Facebook: ""And I'll praise You in this storm and I will lift my hands, For You are who You are no matter where I am, And every tear I've cried You hold in Your hand, You never left my side and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm." ~Casting Crowns. Send us a few extra prayers today, we have hit a bump in the road and could use some additional strength."

Then on Monday, well you can read about the tragedy that our family endured over the weekend.

Then yesterday, we got more news, that we could have lived without. John's grandmother, Granny, has a mass on her brain.

For about half a second I wanted to cry.

My husband's unemployed, my beautiful niece's heartache, and now Granny.

Yet, as I sat in the truck with my husband, this immense feeling of peace washed over me. It was as if I had taken a breath and blew all of that stuff out and everything was perfect again.

Then I wanted to laugh. Pure laughter, not sarcasm, not because it was the only thing going to keep me from having a meltdown in our driveway, but simply because the thought of that old saying that "God will never give you more than you can bear" popped into my head.

Apparently, I can handle all of this. It's no big deal. God has faith that I can handle this.

So that got the wheels turning and had me wondering, if His faith in me is great enough that I can handle, working full time, school full time, husband's unemployment, nieces situation, Granny, then shouldn't that faith in Him to get us through all of this be twice as large, if not larger?

Sure, I felt silly laughing and joking with my husband about "bringing it", not that I was asking God for more sorrow or heartache, but that I was just so impressed by God's faith in our strength, in my strength. So we laughed, and we both knew that no matter what, everything was still ok. If not even good.

We have a place to live, a car, we are both healthy, I'm still employed. We have so much, and there are some with so little, that it's not unreasonable to have these moments of joy in the midst of unhappiness and trials and life lessons, or whatever you want to call this.

Sure, I have moments where I panic, but they are moments. There are moments of worry, but it's not constant. Because every single time that those thoughts pop up, I have prayed. Some days there have been a lot, and other days, just a few. I've asked for my husband to find a job he loves, I've asked that my niece find peace, I've asked that Granny's mass be something simple and easy to fix. I've asked for the strength to wipe the worry out of my mind so that I can focus on homework.

I'm simply putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that we can learn something from this, that I can learn something from this. There is a blessing in here somewhere. I just have to find it.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

Newsflash: Life's Not Always Fair

I wanted to post this before Christmas, and I thought about just hanging on to it until this year, but I really wanted to post it, so here you go. Just think of it as either being really early or really late. Take your pick.


Sometimes it's easy to see how unfair life is when things don't go our way. It's hard to see the good in our lives when we are frustrated or unhappy about the direction that things are going. Instead we whine, we cry and we complain. And to some people our bouts of crazyness seem, well crazy, yet to others, they seem rational. Where's the balance?

Today I witnessed several people on Facebook (don't judge, I have no homework and nothing to do at work, so I'm married to Facebook from 8-5) complaining about a variety of things that were still on their to-do list before Sunday. Shopping, wrapping, cleaning, baking. The list was endless.

Yes, I'll be the first to admit that I have a huge to-do list of my own. But, I also know that if it doesn't happen, the world won't come to an end and Christmas won't be ruined. Life will go on. Christmas will go on.

I used to be all gung-ho about everything being perfect. Then I started back to college at 30 and realized that I would have to learn to prioritize and let things go. Some things would be worth the hassle, and in the end, other things would wait. I quit wrapping Christmas presents years ago. It stresses me out. I hate doing it. My packages look like a 2 year old wrapped them. So I started "cheating" and doing gift bags. It took me all of 45 minutes to bag up everything, and actually wrap 4 gifts. It was easy, it was quick, and most importantly, I was happy.

This year we cut out a lot of gift giving. We scaled way, way back. Not because of the economy, but because I'm a full time college student, and I couldn't shop all year long like I usually do. I manage to find great little deals and hold onto them for next year. Which usually allows us to be extravagant for little money. This year, most of my shopping has been done since Thanksgiving, and I'm even happy to admit, I'm still not quite through. I'm not stressed about it. I'm just thankful that we both work, and that we have the means to provide gifts for the family that we did.

Yes, I'll admit, we didn't do anything for John's family. With the lack of communication, and the space that we are all taking great advantage of, I didn't do anything for any of them. I don't feel bad about that either.

So I posted on Facebook today, and thought it might be relevant to some of you reading this post too.

I'm amazed at how many people are complaining today about the things that they feel like they have to do in order for Christmas to not completely and totally fall apart. Christmas should be about celebrating, not about stressing out. I'm pretty sure that God doesn't care if the presents are wrapped, the cookies are baked, or the gifts for our friends and family are bought. I'm pretty sure that he's more concerned about the real reason for Christmas, which as nothing to do with the above mentioned items. Perhaps we should take a step back and remember that Christmas is about celebrating the birth of a savior, not about the packages under the tree.

Expectations

*If you haven't done so, please read yesterday's post Puzzling, in order to fully grasp the story behind today's post.

Have I lowered my expectations of God?

I tell people that God can do anything. And I believe that he can. In their lives. I've witnessed miracles in other people's lives, and even in my own. I've witnessed my grandfather, whom doctor's told us wouldn't make it through the night, live another 11 years. I've witnessed a good friend's daughter, born very, very early not only survive the first few weeks of her life, but thrive as a happy 5 year old. I've witnessed a wreck that changed my husband's life, not completely destroy him.

Yet I'm not 100% sure that I haven't "given up". I didn't get the results that I wanted, so I just assumed that it wasn't meant to be. That it wasn't the way that things were planned to go. That the grand design of my life, just meant I wasn't supposed to have a child of my own.

Instead, today, I'm questioning whether I gave up. If I simply got tired of the drugs, the emotions, the everything and gave up.

After debating about it, I know that I was the one who lowered their expectations. I know that after the 3rd round of drugs (and the craziness that went with that) that I was tired. I was beaten, I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand to do the treatments. They had taken a toll emotionally, physically, mentally and financially. I was tired. I was tired of hoping for a miracle, praying that this month would be "the" month. I was tired.

To be honest, I'm not even sure my marriage would have survived. We were both so tired of performing and we were so drained financially that it wasn't even funny. I think that my head knew that my heart needed a break. That I needed to figure out what Plan B was going to be. Because let's face it. There wasn't ever an option for Plan A to not go as planned. We were going to get pregnant. There simply hadn't been any other alternative. Then when Plan A wasn't going the way I envisioned it, I just didn't know what to do or where to go anymore. I didn't even know who I was anymore.

So for months I wallowed in self pity. I had gained weight, I couldn't give my husband the child that he wanted, I was useless. It took months to crawl out from under that. It took months for me to realize that I had more to offer than my ability to get knocked up.

Did I quit believing that God could perform miracles? No. I just didn't believe that He was going to hand one out in our case. I didn't believe that I was going to get pregnant.

Did I lower my expectations? Maybe. I honestly don't know. I know that in the weeks and months, and even as I type this, I wonder if I gave up too easily. I wonder if I quit fighting. I'll always have that to wonder about though. Would one more treatment have done it? Would something different have done it? I don't know. I probably won't ever know the answers to those questions.

I know I stopped hoping. That I gave up. But unless you've been there done that, you can't begin to imagine the hope that you put out while you wait on hold for the results of a blood pregnancy test. I held my breath. I gripped the phone, I prayed. I begged, I tried not to cry. I tried to imagine getting the good news. Instead of the apologetic voice on the other end of the phone telling you that your results were negative that they would transfer to scheduling to set up your next appointment. Now, I can imagine how much those people who scheduled those appointments hated their job. Because I know that I can't be the only one who choked back tears while they were on the phone.

My expectations weren't met, but they certainly don't feel like they have been lowered.  Instead I feel like they are higher now than they were then.

I had to come up with Plan B. I had to figure out how I was going to spend the rest of my life now that I wasn't going to have a child's needs to deal with.

My expectations today, are high. I expect a lot out of myself. I expect to get good grades in school. I expect to study hard. I expect to help cook dinner. I expect my husband to be there to cheer me on. If any of that doesn't happen, I will certainly be disappointed, but at the same time, most of those, the fault is with me. I don't expect God to drop a baby on my doorstep (a million dollars yes, a baby, no(kidding)). I don't expect to ever get pregnant. If I do it will be a miracle. And I'm pretty sure that if it's going to happen, it will be a miracle.

The only thing I think I lowered is hope. I have forgotten how to fully hope and believe that something will work out the way I want it too. I just can't find it in myself to hope. At least for a baby.

Even though my hope is definitely lower, my expectations of getting pregnant are too. However, I do know, that if by some miracle I were to get pregnant, God would be the only one who had anything to do with it.

Patience is a Virtue

The past week has been one of the longest weeks of my life. We have waited. We have prayed, we have cried, we have hoped, we have lived. We have survived on little sleep, poor diets and broken hearts. We have waited.

Today, we still wait. Today, we wonder. We hope. We hope for peace. Each day we watch him decline. We watch seziures that result in the brain damage. We pray for him to find peace. We pray for him to let go. We pray that whatever is keeping his body and spirit from moving on, comes soon. We pray for each other. We try to go to work and about our lives as best we can, knowing what the outcome is going to be. We know it's just a matter of time.

I don't believe that some miracle will occur and that Papa will wake up and be really made that we have sold his stuff to pay for his funeral expenses. I don't believe that he is going to wake up one day and be able to speak and talk to us. I believe that death is inevitable.

But what right do I have to not believe in anything? What right to I have to not believe in a miracle? What right to have not to believe in general?

I know when my husband has a severe wreck that I prayed that he was OK. I prayed that he would be ok. I prayed that the people in the other car would be ok. When my dad had a heart attack, I prayed. I hoped that he would be ok. I hoped that he would slow down, I hoped he would be around for a while longer.

Yet each sickness and each event that has occured within the last week, I have simply asked that God's will be done. His will. Not mine. His. It's not that I don't want Papa to be around for another 50 years, but each time I find myself praying, I start out asking for his comfort and his peace, and then I find myself telling God that his will be done. Not mine. His.

So for the past few days I have wondered how differently my thoughts, my faith, my marriage, and my life in general would have been if I had prayed for things differently. If I took the control out of my hands and put it back completely where it belongs. I'm a control freak by nature, I like to know what's going on, and offer my opinion on how to fix it. I like to know what's happening at 2pm tomorrow and the day after that. I like structure, routine, control. Then that gets me to questioning my infertility. I have always said that it was all up to God, but that's been one of many areas of my life that I just haven't been willing to turn over. That I haven't been willing to let go of. Sure, we go about our daily lives, but there is always a part of me that wants a baby, I grieve for the child that I have never had. After the past week, I have been led to wonder what would happen if I handed the control back over. If I let go.

The situation with Papa is definitely in someone else's hands now. We continue to pray, we continue to hope that his comfortable, and that he is at peace.

Still we wonder? What's God waiting for? What's the big plan? What are we missing?

Independence Day

Independence Day. After the last forty-eight hours those words will have a whole new meaning.

Today we wait. We wait for test results. We hope. We pray. We reminisce. We hope.

Last night we talked about the pain that Papa has suffered with. We talked about how hard that would be. We tried to prepare ourselves for the worst, all the time hoping for the best.

Sunday morning John's phone rang and we got the news. Papa had suffered a heart attack in the early morning hours. As we got to the emergency room, we were unprepared for the sight of him laying on the gurney, with a respirator sitting with him, helping him to breath.

We learned that the nursing home staff had found him, at approximately 4 am unconscious and in respiratory distress. They began to administer CPR, and in the process of trying to get him breathing again, he went into cardiac arrest. We have no idea of how long his brain was deprived of oxygen. But we hope.

Sunday evening we heard the results of the CT scan and we were pleased that there was no brain injury, mass, or bleeding. We continued to hope. Yet, we knew that the neurological consult would give us more answers.

Today, we hear the news of his lack of response. My heart just broke. As prepared as I thought I was for this outcome, for the possibility of no recovery, hearing that he was unresponsive as they poked and prodded him, I knew that the outcome wouldn't be what we wanted.

Yesterday, July 4th, was supposed to be a time of celebration and joy. It was supposed to be a day of celebrating our nation's struggle to become independent, to celebrate the birth of our government. Instead, it became a celebration of something else.

It became a celebration of life.

48 hours ago, Papa sat in a nursing home waiting for tomorrow when he would return home. 48 hours ago, things were fine. Until a little respiratory problem became a big problem, that led to a heart attack, that led to oxygen deprivation, that led to severe brain damage.

Last night we were given the prognosis. Last night, a son and two daughters made the choice to give their father his independence. They made the choice to send him home. They gave God the freedom for his will to be done.

And today, we wait. We wait for those beautiful moments when God's divine plan will shine through. We wait for those moments when a child will be reunited with the friends and family that have gone before him. We wait for the moment that his spirit is free from his body and that he goes home.

Over the last few weeks we have felt so guilty about the choices that we have made to move out. To move on with building our life. We have struggled with finding peace about the choices we have made.

Yet today as I write this, and as I have had conversations with Papa's beautiful daughters, I have found that peace. I have also seen God at work in all of our lives in ways that I have never seen Him at work before. And that has been beautiful. The duplex that we are renting fell into our laps. It was perfect. Size wise, price wise, location wise. It took days from the time we looked at it, until the lease was signed. Days. The day we signed the lease was the day that we learned that Papa was coming home from the nursing home. Several days later we told him of our departure from his home. And while there were times of strain and tension on our relationship during the 2 weeks that he was home before we moved out, we all tried to make the best out of the situation. We moved out the day after he went back to the nursing home to undergo 2 weeks of rehab and therapy to regain some of the strength that he had lost.

His two weeks was up tomorrow. He was supposed to go home tomorrow. Now I believe that he will go home tomorrow, just not to the one he owns.

There have been so many moments in my life when I have seen God at work. When I have felt his presence, his comfort, his love. There have been times when I have seen his plan revealed and there are times when it has been harder to find. There have been days where I have questioned my faith, and his presence in my life. Yet yesterday I realized that he knew that today was coming. He knew that our lives were going to be turned upside down and our hearts inside out. He knew. He spent the last two weeks helping us to get ready, of finding our home and setting it up. He spent the last two weeks making sure that we wouldn't have to go back to his house and stay there knowing that Papa would never sit in his recliner or walk down the hall or see his babies again. And for that I will always be thankful.

I can imagine that the next few days and weeks will be hard. I can imagine that as we all move forward with our lives that there will be moments of intense sadness and intense joy as we celebrate his life and as we share our memories of him.

Today I'm thankful that God is in charge. Today I'm thankful that he prompted Papa's daughters to come and that they were here yesterday with their big brother and that he had put the idea in there heads a month ago to come here to see their dad this weekend, even though they decided on a date at the end of the month. I'm thankful that our entire family will be able to lean on him and find comfort and peace in the days and weeks to come. I'm thankful that our family has each other.

Wordy Wednesday

I had planned on writing a post yesterday. But when I woke up yesterday morning and figured that I would have to feel better in order to die, you guys just weren't a priority. Not puking on my boss, that was a priority.

There is a lot that has happened since last Friday. We have been busy completely turning our lives upside down.

The time has came. We made some serious choices this morning, and now we wait.  We are moving. We are leaving John's grandfather's house, which has been our home for the past 3 years.

Part of me is sad. We have lived there for so long that it's home. We have had the benefits of living cheaply and rent free, but on the other hand it has cost us a lot. We have strained relationships with family because of this, and I'm afraid that what we have witnessed is only the beginning. I'm afraid that there are going to be harsher words and things said, and that we are going to doubt this move.  I'm having doubts. It's terrifying to go down this road. To have to worry about money again, when for the last 3 years, I haven't had to count every penny. We have managed to get out of debt. We have managed to do a few things that we wouldn't have otherwise dreamed of. It's been freeing.

On the other hand we have taken care of a man that no one else has wanted to. That no one else can be burdened with. And sadly to be losing those duties is a relief. Mostly because I'm tired of not being good enough in general, but I'm good enough to take care of the people that no one else wants to. I'm going to be selfish. I'm going to make this about me and my own life and well being. And my own happiness. Parts of the last 3 years I have loved, but the majority of it has been spent with dread and walking on eggshells. And if everything works out, in a few short weeks, I won't be doing that anymore.

Do I feel guilty? Absolutely! I was raised that you took care of family. That you stepped up to the plate. That you didn't shrink from your responsibilities where family was concerned. But John's family sees things differently. Because I'm afraid that when Papa comes home that we will still be stuck with the burden of caring for him. So I go from relief to anger. It's like flipping a switch.

This afternoon, I have simply prayed. I prayed that if this was the direction that we needed to take that God put his stamp of approval on it. If not, to please let my own needs scream louder than His voice so that I might know which path to take. And for patience if this isn't the right time, and for understanding to all of those who will be effected. We aren't only changing our lives, but others as well.

Writing Papers Fries Your Brain

I have wanted to get back into the groove of writing blog posts, and I think that I have some great ideas until I actually sit down to do it, and then the words just won't come out.  I think about all of the other stuff that I "should" be doing (like the Economics homework I should be working on instead of typing this) and I just can't think of anything to say that doens't involve whining about school.

And frankly I'm tired of whining about school.

I just want to remember that my life doesn't (even though it kinda does) revolve around school.  I feel like you guys are tired of listening to it.  Then I got to thinking.  I'm the one who decided that my life begins at 30, and part of "finding" out who am I involved this blog.

This blog has helped me discover things about myself that I didn't know, or that I had long forgotten. It's also let me discover new things about myself, some that I could have done without and others that are probably vital but that suck at the same time.

This is a big step in my life. It means that I am finally moving on from Plan A. I'm making a new future that isn't the one that a part of me still wants. I'm trying to step out of my shell and talk to people I don't know and maybe not make new friends, but at least make the effort to get to know people. I'm working on Plan B, and I'm sure that before I'm all done there will be a Plan C, D, and E.

Because that's just how life works. I have been so overwhelmed lately and I overheard a conversation one day about how God never gives us more than we can handle. Which I agreed with, until she said, sometimes life hands us something that we just aren't prepared for.  Well crap.  She had a point.

I can handle just about anything. I have been there done that, and there are a few things that I haven't dealt with yet, but I feel like I could if I had too. That's because God is standing behind me, patting me on the shoulder telling me that I can do it. Then on the other shoulder I have this mini version of me, telling me to dream on. So instead of just trying to focus on one voice more than the other, I'm trying to listen to both. It's important to keep dreaming, and it's important to have the faith in myself that God has in me. He thinks I can do it, so I need to have faith that I can.

So I did what any self respecting person does; hired a tutor.

And told the negative version of me to stuff a sock in it.

The Stranger

The Stranger

At Christmas time there was a man who looked so out of place,

as people who rushed about him at a hurried sort of pace.

He stared at all the Christmas lights, the tinsel everywhere,

The shopping center, Santa Claus, with children gathered near.

The Mall was packed with shoppers who were going to and fro,

Some with smiles and some with frowns and some too tired to go.

They rested on the benches or they hurried on their way,

to fight the crowd for purchases to carry home that day.

The music from a stereo was playing loud and clear

of Santa Claus, and snow men, and a funny-nosed reindeer.

He heard the people talk about the good times on the way,

Of parties, fun, and food galore, and gifts exchanged that day.

"I'd like to know what's going on," the man was heard to say,

"There seems to be some sort of celebration on the way."

"And would you tell me who this is, all dressed in red and white?

And why are children asking him about a special night?"

The answer came in disbelief, "I can't believe my ear!

I can't believe you do not know that Christmas time is here!"

"The time when Santa comes around with gifts for girls and boys,

When they're asleep on Christmas, he leaves them books and toys."

"The man you see in red and white is Santa Claus, so sly,

The children love his joyful laugh and twinkle in his eye."

"His gift packed sleigh is pulled along by very small reindeer,

As he flies quickly through the air, while darting here and there."

"The children learn of Santa while they are still quite small.

When Christmas comes, he is the most important one of all."

The stranger hung his head in shame, and closed a nail-pierced hand.

His body shook in disbelief; he did not understand.

A shadow crossed his stricken face, his voice was low but clear,

"After all these years, they still don't know."

And Jesus shed a tear.

- Author Unknown -

Doors and Windows

Opportunities are everywhere. You can find them under a rock, or in a shoe, or under a boulder, or out in the blue. I do not like them, Sam I am, I do not like…wait..that’s not right. Where were we? Oh, yeah, opportunities. They are literally everywhere. Some of them you make yourself and others are found along the way.

Then that brings up the whole “when one door closes another opens” concept.

Bet you thought this post was going to have to do with some sort of construction, didn't ya?

Just follow my ADD for a minute.

Things at my job have been slightly sucky lately. The recession has finally hit us here in West Texas and we are slow. Slow enough that the owners are concerned about the business surviving for another 20+ years if things continue as slowly has they have. I was promised a couple of days off, to keep payroll and things down, since things have been so slow. You know that whole cut down on expenses concept. I didn’t get those days off, and basically got paid to play games on the internet, as the “rush” that my immediate boss hoped for, just didn’t happen. I can count on one hand the number of times the phone rang in two days. Then I get another project dumped on me yesterday. Something that while I understand the information one party needs, I don’t know enough about the types of materials we use to WRITE it all down. In words, kinda like I right on here, except without the sarcasm.

So I have wondered, if maybe this isn’t one of those door-closing moments. Except instead of it being slammed shut on my fingers, it’s gradually closing. Or if maybe, just maybe, my half-day off a few weeks ago, was enough time off that I realized that I’m kinda burnt out. I know, I know, how can you not know you are burnt out? Hello, work full time, go to school full time, cook 5-6 meals a week, laundry, must sleep somewhere. It’s easy for things to fall through the cracks. You know, like me.

So the question remains, door closing or …..?

I had planned on finding a new job after the first of the year. I’ll have my associates’ degree in December, and surprising to myself, there are actually people who will hire you with just an associates’ degree. So you know, with these thousands of dollars in student loans I’m racking up, I figured it would be a wise idea. Plus, the longer I’m here, the harder it will be to leave. It’s a small company, most of which have known each other for 30+ years or are related. So I have become “family”. And it’s always hard to leave family behind. Except for Great Uncle Edgar who is 94 and still asks everyone to “pull his finger”. Yeah, won’t miss that guy.

So my question is this. How do you know when one door is slowly closing? Or is God just making it easier on my heart to leave?

I’m pretty sure that the door hasn’t been slammed shut yet; there are no tears, no panic. Instead there is just a “what do I do”, question that keeps looming. Do I stay, do I go, do I wait, do I know?

Darn crystal ball. Rolled it off the table a few weeks ago and broke the stupid thing. Now I have this big gray stain on my carpet and no answers.

Or, am I looking at this all-wrong? Maybe it isn’t about doors and windows; maybe it’s about learning not to worry so much. Maybe it’s about having faith, trusting that God knows what he is doing, without my input. Well, without listening to my input, anyway. I know He sees stuff I don’t, and I’m sure that this is just a test of patience. Wonder if He would be opposed to bribes for a peek at that crystal ball? Probably.

So for the time being I guess I have to quit worrying about doors and windows. I’m going to try to learn to be patient. I’m going to try and take more time off from work. I’m going to try to be patient. Maybe if I repeat it enough it will sink in. I’m going to try and be patient. And have a little faith, that things will all get worked out, that I’ll get all worked. I am my own worst enemy after all. I’ll also spend more time worrying about the things that will never happen.

~ Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish. ~John Quincy Adams

~ One moment of patience may ward off great disaster. One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life. ~Chinese Proverb

~ In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don't. ~Blaise Pascal

Dogs VS. Humans

Human nature never ceases to amaze me. Never. The older I get the harder it is to not give up all faith in human beings as being even semi-decent.

Several days ago I met someone. He is shedding a unique light on the people in the community where I live, and a unique light on my own life.

But first, a little background info. (Think of this as a commercial after the opening credits.)

I have always been notorious for dragging home every sick and abandoned creature. I have taken home cats, dogs, baby rabbits, even people. As a child, I can recall countless times that I was threatened with bodily harm with saving animals from an uncertain death. Especially when those rescued bunnies were accidently freed from their homes and ran free in my mothers house. It's a miracle that I was ever allowed to have a pet. It's a miracle that my mother didn't kill me, it also makes me understand why some mothers eat their children at birth.

The older that I have gotten, the more practical I have become. I go into the adoption center at Petsmart everytime I'm there, and my heart breaks for each of the dogs in the cages, waiting, hoping, to find their permanent family. I would go in each and every day and take them all home with me, if I could. I just quit picking up strays, it breaks your heart to let them go. I try to feed them and water them, and let them wander on. I often call animal control and try to get them saved from being ran over.

Apparently my husband is just starting this adopting stray animals phase.

We were coming home for the grocery store a few evenings ago, when he saw two dogs. One of which was a female, probably a year old. She was full of energy, and puppiness. You know that phase, doesn't listen, acts like a teenager. Chews on everything. But there was this other guy. Who, to my naked eye, appears to be a full blood, or really close full blood boxer. He was older, you could tell by the gray around his eyes and muzzle. And the minute I saw him through the pickup window, I knew he was in bad shape. I have never, in my entire life, even on animal planet, seen a dog that skinny. Yet, that sweet, and happy. You could see each vertebra in his back, as well as the "spaces" between, where his spinal cord is. You could see each rib, protruding through skin, that it was amazing, it hadn't torn the skin and was poking through. Did you know that dogs have a point on the top of there head? They do. Because you could see the top of his skull. Bad shape is an understatement. So we did, what any "decent" human being would do. We picked them up, and took them home.

I have two dogs at home. Both miniature schnauzers, Prancer, is tiny, and sweet, and he weighs around 20 pounds. Blaze, the female, is not so tiny, and not so sweet. She has an attitude, and a slight weight problem. She weighs about as much as a mack truck, well, ok, maybe not QUITE that much, but about 35 pounds. According to wikipedia a typical male boxer should weigh 65-99 pounds. He might, just might, tip the scales at 25-30 pounds. He has stepped on my barefoot twice with all of his weight, and Blaze weighs more then he does.

We called animal control, because we knew that with two dogs already, we really couldn't keep him.

Animal control said that they would hold him for 3 days in hopes of the owner claiming him. Then, because he has no teeth, is old, and the poor shape he was in, he would be put to sleep, because "no one in their right mind would want to mess with him." I told the person answering the phone that when they got old and had poor teeth, that he needed to be put to sleep too. Called him several names, that I won't repeat here.

So please take good care of your teeth, because apparently when you, as a person, get to be "too" much trouble, you can be put to sleep. Who knew!?!?!

Wait. That's not right. It's OK for people to be old and a burden, but not a dog?What is wrong with this world that there isn't someone out there with a big enough heart, who doesn't mind going a little out of there way, to save another soul.

Yeah, and here is where you are going to tell me that it's a dog, to get over it.

And here is where I'm going to pleasantly tell you where to shove that idea.

He has a heart, a soul, he feels hurt, cold, warmth, love, pain, fear, a good back scratching, the effects of a kind word, the effects of cruelty. Don't you feel those too? So what does that make you? Better than him?

This dog, has yet to bark, growl or do anything, but love us, and shown us both, as well as our other dogs affection. He has done nothing, but asked for some dignaty, and maybe a little decency in return.

Isn't that all we ask as a person? For some kindness, compassion, love. How is he any different?

What is so wrong with people that they can't stop and save someone in need? They sure want someone to come "save" them, when they need it.

So what is so special about this dog?

Absolutely nothing. Yet, at the same time absolutely everything. He knows no stranger, his tail is constantly wagging, and he is always hoping for a scratch on the neck right behind his ears. Because you see, he can't sit down and scratch there like a normal dog, because his hip bones dig into the ground and cause him, what I can only imagine, as intense pain.

Yet, in the few short days that he has been here, he has reminded me that there is more to life than school and work. He has reminded me that while those things are important, there are other things, that are equally, if not more important. Perhaps, it wasn't coincidence that he crossed our paths. Perhaps, he was sent here, at a time, when I was doubting my own capabilities. Perhaps, he is reminding me, of the person that I want to be. The one that doesn't have anything to do with a college education.

Too bad there aren't more people in the world like him. Can you imagine the kind of world we would live in? I can only imagine that it's what heaven will be like.


I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive. ~Gilda Radner

I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying. ~George Bird Evans

I talk to him when I'm lonesome like; and I'm sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that. ~W. Dayton Wedgefarth

My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am. ~Author Unknown

The more I see of man, the more I like dogs. ~Mme. de Staël

The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's. ~Mark Twain

If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience. ~Woodrow Wilson

You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us. ~Robert Louis Stevenson

Because I said so

Do you remember asking to go somewhere or do something when you were a kid? When the parent’s answer was NO, and you asked why; and their response was ‘Because I said so’.

That used to infuriate me. It still does. I hear my sister, mom, dad, my brother-in-law, my mother and father in law tell their kids and grandkids that same line. It still drives me nuts. Why?

I wanted a reason. Not because you’re the mommy reason, a solid reason. You can’t go because you have homework to do, your room isn’t clean, your grounded; just give me a reason. Explain your thought process to me and why I can’t go.

Hmmm…the parents never say that when you CAN do something. Interesting.

Then again I was a weird child. I guess that makes me a weird adult. I like explanations. I like to know the “why” to your reasoning. All the ‘because I said so’ did and still does is piss me off. Give me a reason. You obviously have one or you wouldn’t object. Tell me why. I may not like the reason, but at least you aren’t taking a cop out.

I think that parents often do that because they don’t want a confrontation. They don’t want their child all pissed off and slamming doors and giving them the silent treatment. Why? You, as an adult get mad; you slam doors and say cuss words to vent your frustrations. Why can’t they? They get frustrated too; why not teach them how to vent, so they don’t think that it’s ok to beat their child or wife or dog or wall.

Why? Because they are learning; they are growing up, and even though your 8 year old may not completely understand your reasoning behind your choice, they at least will know later that you had their best interests at heart. On occasion my mother did give me a solid reason, I often didn’t like it, but I was less pissed off than when no reason was given. Weird, I know. As an adult I know that my mom was just trying to make my childhood miserable and not let me have any fun. Ok, not really. I know that her reasons were because she had more experience and wisdom than a 10 year old. As an adult, I understand the reason for her “no’s” more than I did at 10.

Everything you do or say your children pick up on. They learn by example. They learn that it’s ok to tell “white lies”, to avoid issues, to be nice to animals from watching you. Right now, as you are raising your children, you are teaching them how to raise their children. You are teaching them how to be a responsible adult. You are teaching them how to take care of you when you get old. Is that really the example you want your kids to see? Are your actions showing them how to be the people you want them to become? What are you teaching them? What kind of person will they become based on your example? Are you sure that’s what you want?

Perhaps you should take a good look at the things that you say and do. Perhaps you should make sure that you are teaching your children how to be a responsible adult, and not make the mistakes that you have made. Consider this…if I were to ask your child or grandchild, what the most important thing to you was…what would they say? Is it different than what you would want them to say?

After spending some time with my niece and nephew this weekend I realized that the example that I am providing them hasn’t been what I wanted it to be. I also don’t want to know the answer to the above question, if I were to ask them.

I remember as a kid my mom used to tell me that I needed to be on my best behavior because I might be the only chance that “they” had to see Jesus. As a child and teenager that really didn’t have the profound impact on me that it does now. It is a powerful thought, one that we as adults, and even children shouldn’t take for granted.

Look around you right now. See that waitress, husband, parent, pet, child. You might be the only chance they have to see Jesus. What kind of reputation are you going to give Him?

Maybe you should take a look at your actions and words from their perspective.

“Why?” You ask.

Because I said so.


Children are unpredictable. You never know what inconsistency they're going to catch you in next. ~Franklin P. Jones

Children seldom misquote. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said. ~Author Unknown

It is far more impressive when others discover your good qualities without your help. ~Author Unknown