There's a gadget for that

When I was a little girl I wanted an easy bake oven so bad. Mom said it would be messy, and she didn't want to have the stress of it. Thinking back, we rarely ever ate at home. Momma worked long hours as did Dad. So most of our meals were take out, or we would hit the local big boy. Once I had a car and a job I followed suit and ate many a meal out with my friends.

I was never handed down the family spatula, or any tried and true family favorite recipe. I knew every In & Out in Southern California though. A house comes with a kitchen, and I really only need it for coffee in the morning and a glass of wine in the evening, right?

My sweet older daughter made our dinner tonight. She had minimal direction and tips from her Dad and I, and it was awesome. I thought to myself that her husband will be so thankful some day that we are giving her the tools she needs to be a successful wife and mother. And then I looked at my poor husband... How did I win him over? It certainly was not with my domestic skills.

We moved into our first place after having lived with my parents while he was on base at Camp Pendleton, followed by living with his parents when we relocated to Chicago and got on our feet. I found myself frozen in the kitchen. How would I feed our now family of 4? How did I get here? How is that I am 24 and I have never really had to cook?

A few months after these gripping questions my first daughter turned one, and I made sure she got an easy bake oven. While she napped I busted that bad boy... er... girl(?) out of the box and studied the instructions. I proudly presented my husband with a spongy thing that resembled a cake with a huge smile. He made a positive noise and he nodded his head and no doubt choked down my offering. This continued for some time.

Pregnant with our youngest son found me craving kettle corn like I would purchase from my home town street fair. hours of research had me jumping, recipe and instructions in hand. My first attempt was an utter disaster. No where in the instructions did it say to put a lid on the popcorn as it cooked in the oil and sugar!! When we moved we still found popcorn as we packed up items in that kitchen.

The Chief is a natural in the kitchen. He can look in a few cupboards and the fridge and create a culinary delight. I can do the same and present a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and be so proud. My obsession to impress my husband with a new found kitchen prowess turned into a hunt. A hunt for kitchen gadgets to help make sense of the demands of some of these recipes that looked like chemistry notes in a foreign language. Did you know that there is a kitchen gadget for everything? I have them! Some I am not sure what they are, but I am convinced that I will need them and will dance around and cheer when I find a recipe that calls for it.

Until then, I will use the gadgets I have, let the Chief be the main chef of our kitchen and pass on what little knowledge I have to my daughters and sons. Maybe they will lucky and marry someone who is a natural around the kitchen like I did. What I do know for sure... They will get lots of kitchen gadgets from me. :)

Sandwich Club/Sandwich

When I was little my Momma and I lived with my Grandparents. Since my Grandparents were retired I spent my days with them until I started Kindergarten. I remember many a lunches consisted of Sandwiches. Now Grandma and Grandpa were Great Depressionists, so it was one sandwich in particular: Bologna with a slice of American cheese on Top Ramen bread. To this day I am not a fan of bologna and I never buy it. I am more of a turkey and avocado girl. I've even learned to make a mean Panini! Now I am learning about a difference kind of sandwich, a generational sandwich. The Chief and I are now the care givers for my dad as well as our growing children. While some days are easy and some are hard it has been rather interesting as we have all settled into our multigenerational household style. There are tons of books on parenting, and tons of books on aging. I wish there was a handbook on how to raise them all in the same house. I have tried to refer to pop culture for help. There were the Walton's. And we do live on a farm of sorts... and we have a lot of kids... We are just a little more edgy than that. There is a show on now a days about a family that has 4 generations in the house. The parents and their grown son are raising his child. Their, "MawMaw" is senile and provides all sorts of comedic situations with her antics. While the show is a completely scripted situational comedy, it has some truth to those of us in that season of life. When we had little ones There were car seats, baby gates, little bath tubs and walkers. Now with Dad and his knee replacement, there are handicap plaques for the car, ramps, shower chairs, a different kind of walker and canes. As more of my friends are joining the ranks of the sandwich club... or is it a club sandwich? Either way, I think there should be a registry at Walgreens, a sort of "Sandwich Shower" like a baby shower for those of us who are blessed with caring for a parent. Until the how-to books come out and I get to have a shower, I will just have to settle with trial and error. And if you've got Mom and/or Dad at home along with your growing Indians, welcome to the Sandwich club... I mean Club Sandwich.

Lessons From A Life Other Than Ordinary

My first Memories of Aunt Vera are of my excitement of her impending visit to our family home. My Momma, Sister and I lived with my Grandparents. My Grandfathers younger Sister, Vera was due to visit and my mom had told me all I, as a 4 year old, needed to know. Aunt Vera liked animals, treats and coloring. To that 4 year old girl, Vera was everything that was expected. She loved animals of all kinds, loved a bowl of ice cream after dinner as much as I did, and she colored many a pages from my coloring book with me. It was like I had my own play mate. I always enjoyed her visits, and looked forward to them. But as I grew and learned new things, I realized that Vera was still the same. I asked my mom why Vera still colored pictures and didn't write words like I did when she knew her alphabet and would sit and practice with me on previous visits. It was then that I learned big words akin to, "Disabled, Handicapped, Mental Retardation".

When Vera was a small girl, she was in an accident that caused traumatic brain injury and rendered her mentally disabled and developmentally frozen at that age. While Aunt Vera was every bit a woman in her early 50's, she had all the nuances of my kindergarten counterparts. As I grew she was a fixture at holiday get togethers and visited often. There were trips to the zoo, and to the park. Her presence in my family never seemed odd to me. In fact her presence taught me some precious lessons on life. Lessons that I wonder if I could have ever attainted had she been what society would deem as normal or typical.

Vera was devoted to her family. She would see no wrong in anyone that she loved. She adored my Grandfather, her Wayne. So much so that she was jealous of my grandmother when they married and like a child who just got a new stepmom, she gave my Grandma a run for her money for a time. But Grandma always saw to it that Vera was taken care of, shown love and a part of family traditions. Vera loved animals, and would probably give a home to every stray if only she could. Since she was not able to, she had a vast collection of stuffed animals. Vera loved people too. I don't think she ever saw people for the color, social status, or ability. She simply saw a potential friend. Vera was generous, with her friends and family and her unconditional love. She had a child like innocence to life, love and forgiveness. She could throw a temper tantrum in four year old style, and eat like a teenage boy, but she was always like Sunshine.

Vera taught me that people with disabilities are anything but disabled. They are very able to do so much more. The societal expectations of the time would have been for her to be institutionalized with a total loss of contact from her family. After all, in those days people with disabilities like hers were viewed of having no value to society. But rather, her family kept her close and included. Allowed her to go a group home where she was able to work and have the independence she was capable of in an environment that allowed her to safely. Her presence in my life gave me a heart for people with abilities different from mine. It brought a patience and compassion that I'm not sure I would have without my experiences with her. I may never, in my lifetime be able to answer the question of why accidents happen like the one that affected her. But what I do know is that God had a plan for her. She survived and thrived despite the medical challenges of the time.

Vera Whitehouse passed in the early hours of the morning today. We were told that she spoke of her favorite brother, our Grandfather. She lived a full and happy life of 84 years. And her presence in my family enriched us all in a very personal and amazing way. I have no doubt that there was quite a reunion in the heavens. She is restored and again with those she adored, her brothers, sister, mother, father, my Momma and her brother. I am thankful to you, Vera for the blessing of Lessons from a life other than ordinary.

What to remember and what to forget

I'm a girl of details. I need a plan, I need to see what the objective is, and see a detailed course of action on how it is to be completed. Success is in the little details, that combined create the whole of what is to be complete. If I picture a room that I want to decorate, I see it in my head and then I go on a mission to procure every little detail of that room until is a complete representation of what I pictured. I am always striving to remember the details. Remember recipes, movie lines, my kids PR times, the Blackhawks season record, what my Momma's favorite movie was, the color of her hair and the sound of her voice, every car my dad restored, when to get my oil changed, who needs to take what pill when, the burning edge of the hole I feel with the loss of too many too soon. I've been afraid that if I forget a detail, I will lose everything. Perhaps there are somethings that need to be forgotten in order to move on? I've watched my Dad struggle to remember details daily. Some have been minor, like when he had seen me last. He swears it's been days, when I visit him daily, sometimes twice or three times. Other details have been much larger and harder to witness. One day he could not identify my Mom in a picture of the two of them. It broke my heart as anyone who knows my parents, knows that my dad was completely devoted to my Mom. He adored her and she was his world. But in that moment he could not remember the pain and anguish he has been suffering with her loss. He didn't feel the burning edges of the hole. In a selfish, twisted way, I envy those moments he had. As we continue this journey of details, remembering, and forgetting, I will have to learn to accept my position as the keeper of the memories. I will gladly carry in remembrance the details of what is being forgotten. I will cherish and adore the memories of love and laughter, the details that we used to overcome and carry on, and if I must remember the sting of singed, smoldering hole of what's been lost. Then I hope and pray that the pain stretches me so that I may grow to use it to the betterment of myself, and those that I love. I will accept the forgotten memories as a blessing of mercy.

Confessions of a know it all

I love nothing more than someone asking me a question that I simply don't have an answer to. I am one of those freaks who actually finds the task of taking on a challenge of something unfamiliar as a way to stretch my comfort zone. Even more a way to learn. And when I want to learn about something new, I exhaust every effort of research methods to absorb as much as I can. Why do I not mind what others hate? I must confess, I am a know it all. I think my OCD is at such a magnitude that my fear is that I may make an important life changing decision without being fully informed. I am the caregiver and financial "boss" for our family of 7. An informed decision is the only way I can go. Who doesn't want to say that they made the best decision for their loved one?

I thrived on this when we were told that Jake would be legally blind and to accept it. Had I simply done that, he would not be where he is now, at near perfect vision with his corrective lenses that are double digit prescriptions weaker than his first pair of glasses as a baby. I found the therapy of research soothing when Noah was diagnosed with an Autism spectrum disorder. There is comfort in knowing that you're not the only to have experienced certain things, and even more so when you are not blindsided by some new behavior presentation. With so many treatment options out there for just about anything that ails you, it is always good to make an informed decision. However, when it is your child, and you are the person they are counting on to advocate for their best interest, the responsibility of that task can weigh as much as much as a Buick.

I found my know it all status was helpful to my acceptance of what was to come with my Momma's health. Having grown up with Asthma, having had two children with RSV as infants, and a daughter with severe Asthma I was familiar with much of the medication that Momma required. Having been working at a Hospice agency with the resources of coworkers I developed a greater understanding of COPD than I ever needed to know. I was able to know what was to be expected next, and although it was heartbreaking when each step arrived, there was a sense of comfort in having been at least mentally ready. The case was much the same when my Gradad's Alzheimer's declined. Although I wasn't ready for the decline to be so sudden and swift, from a clinical viewpoint, it was all following the same textbook path.

Having survived the year, when the dust settled it was decided that my Dad would be coming to Ohio to live with me and my family. My know it all status was at an all time high. I was knowledgable of Dad's health concerns, and medical history. I knew all of his medications, what they were for, the importance of each one. I knew which doctor's he needed to establish ongoing care with, and started a to do list of of how we were going to get him overhauled and back to optimal shape. Once we got his routine stuff taken care of, it was on to mobility. He was in desperate need of knee replacement. During his pre-surgical physical there was a heart beat irregularity. We got a thorough work up with a Cardiologist the next day and a green light for the surgery. The day of surgery came and his blood wasn't quite ready, we had to come home for a few days with injections to allow his blood to thicken just a bit. None of this seemed odd given his medical history and medications. I was thankful for the precautions of the doctors and hospital. However after surgery came the chaos of the unprepared effects of surgery. There is always risk. What I wasn't expecting was for it to actually all come down around me. Post-op became Hell. Dad's blood pressure dropped, leading to acute renal failure. With his kidneys not working properly he started building up fluids and much of the medication started to build up as well. His blood was dangerously thick and he started to become increasingly lethargic and altered. After this had gone on for days, I demanded a consultation with a neurologist. With his kidney function improving, his mental status remained the same, and on some days was worse. An MRI revealed that Dad had developed at some point prior, Vascular Dementia. Initially, it seemed surreal. Hadn't this man been through enough? How could I, who knows it all, have not seen this? But it all adds up. His behavior prior to surgery and medical history all line up. He has had all the risk factors for developing it. I had attributed so much to other causes, masking it. While they could still be reasons for it, it really doesn't matter. What matters is moving forward. Starting a new normal for my family. Accepting that it is not going to be easy, it is going to be hard work.

I don't know it all, but I am going to make darn sure that I find doctors and therapists willing to teach me. I will find a way to manage a 3 generational household of misfits who each have their own quirks and special needs. I will manage a budget that will look like advanced calculus. But with the knowledge that God always has provided a way, and he will continue. I will research ways to make sure that Dad gets the most of everyday, and do my best to be ready for the next step. Whenever it decides to present itself. I will do this not only because I promised my Momma, but because it is what I want to do. We are called to honor our parents. It is a joy and a privilege to take care of him. He adored my mom, worked hard to provide for his family. He has a kind soul, and a heart for his family. What more do I need to know?

Family defined

Fam·i·ly (noun)
a. a basic social unit consisting of parents and their children, considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not: the traditional family.
b. a social unit consisting of one or more adults together with the children they care for: a single-parent family.

2. the children of one person or one couple collectively: We want a large family.

3. the spouse and children of one person: We're taking the family on vacation next week.

4. any group of persons closely related by blood, as parents, children, uncles, aunts, and cousins: to marry into a socially prominent family.

all those persons considered as descendants of a common progenitor.


A quick search on Dictionary.com will reveal the definition of family. However I am not so convinced anymore that it is an accurate description of what family truly is. I have a feeling that I may not be alone in what I feel defines the term “family”. Does a family go beyond genetics and a common last name? I guess in this case, size doesn’t matter. I may have been brought up in a relatively small group of family that I am related to by blood, but I feel that my true family is vast, and growing continually.

The establishment of family was created to tie people together. So that each member would be shored up by another so that with a strong foundation, it could stand up against the strongest of storms. One of my favorite versus that convinces me that God wants family to work as a unit is from the Psalms, But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children. Psalm 103:17

Yet, I just can’t stop there. Why? Well, my traditional family has undergone many changes. My previously small family has become even smaller. Those who I dwelled with and have descended from are now only 1 other, my sister. I do have my step father, who I adore and now care for full time in my home. His steadfast love of my mother, and her two daughters helped build the foundation of my ever changing idea of what a family is. I have also created a rather large family of my own with my husband. My husband is a fantastic blessing to me and is an incredible anchor in the many storms. But I have realized that my family is so much larger. I see family everywhere I go.



This is a picture of my daughters cross country team. They remind me that family is a fortress that stands strong. I have been brought to tears and we have only had two meets this season. These girls pump one another up. They encourage one another, and they hold one another up. I have witnessed these girls run their hearts out, then get right on the route lines and encourage the boys, whether they are friends or not. All that matters is that there is a fellow runner wearing a Bethel Tate jersey and they will not run alone. They run along the route cheering, encouraging and pumping the runner up. Even if they are the very last runner of that heat. Social status doesn’t matter, runners are family. I have watched parents wait until the very last runner comes in. They cheer as though it was their child, even though their child finished minutes, sometimes hours ago. It doesn’t matter, that child is a runner, runners are family.


I also learned that my family spans the years and the miles. Time holds no boundaries to family. My time spent in California to support my family during my mom’s illness and passing was revealing of how time does not change ties. Friends from my childhood called, texted, and made sure I was well fed. The day that Momma passed I had more support than I ever thought I would need. My nearly three hour layover in Philadelphia was met with one of my bestest friends driving 2 hours to make sure I had lunch. It was then that I found out that my Momma had gone peacefully. The five hour flight was made easier by wifi access so that I could communicate with my husband and dear friends who were doing all they could to help pass the time. I was met at the airport by my sweet friend, Jennefer. She insisted that she pick me up at LAX so that my family could focus on each other until I arrived. She made sure I ate, and stayed with me and my family. Her family offered me a car to make sure that we had enough vehicles to do the things that we needed to do. Memories of sleepovers spent at that home, treats made, curfews, late night giggles, and hugs. The last time I had seen her brothers they were just little boys running around in under-roos and capes. Now they were men, one raising his own family. A dinner with who I grew up with as a second mom made me jealous of my friend. Yet I now am thankful that I can still call her mom.

There is this strange yet blessed phenomenon that takes place when you endure an incredible loss. You become a part of a small selective society. It’s a club of sorts. The only thing that gets you in is having shared a common burden. If you have lost your mom, then you understand the heart break, the jealousy of friends who still have theirs, the anger when that first mother’s day comes and you can no longer hear her thank you. You know regret of missed thank you’s, I should have called more, and why didn’t I visit more. If you’ve been a caretaker for a sick loved one, then you understand the exhaustion, the devotion, the guilt of wanting more sleep, the heartbreak in watching them lose weight, and slip further away, the difficult decisions, the 3 am prayers whispered.

My sweet friend, Jennefer is having to experience the anguish and the blessing of caring for a loved one who is fighting the fight of her life. You see, her precious niece, Sterling (the daughter of one of her under-roo wearing brothers), experienced some headaches that were discovered to be caused by a rare form of cancer. There have been incredibly tough decisions, difficult nights spent in countless hospital hallways. It’s barely been over a month, yet their journey is just begun. This battle requires lots of man power, lots of prayers and is going to require the support of many who are willing the join the ranks to see that Sterling receives as much love and help as she can to fight. I welcome you to be a part of Sterling’s journey. To uplift her family, to witness the blessings unfold. I would be hard pressed to find someone who has not been touched by cancer, touched by watching the daily battle against it. The family ties to that experience are far too reaching than I could ever fathom.


This is how you can follow Sterling's Journey and help:
https://www.mylifeline.org/sterlingchronicles/?page=welcome.cfm

I’ve heard the phrase, “Blood is thicker than water”, but I have also heard, “friends are the family you chose for yourself”. What I do know for a fact is that you can never have too much family, be it those who you are bound to by genetics and namesake or by the mutual understanding of the souls journey. I love my family, it stretches across the miles, oceans and time. May God bless my family, and may I always be at the ready to shore up those who I am bound to.

II Cor.13: 11-14

11 Finally, brethren, farewell.  Become complete.  Be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.  12 Greet one another with a holy kiss.  13 All the saints greet you. 14 The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.

In a FUNK.

I have been in a funk this week and I couldn’t figure out why. I have been thinking of my Momma more and more over the past couple of weeks. With the end of the school year for the Indians, there are plenty of choir shows, plays and awards shows. When we would talk she would love to hear about all their accomplishments and always ask for photos. With our move we’ve been putting countless hours into getting walls painted, and I’ve been putting in a paper bag floor. I couldn’t help but wonder what she would say about all of that, well, If anyone knew my mom, you can hear her, “Ohhhs and Ahhhs”. My mom was always known for her overwhelming enthusiasm. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of something that would prompt me to call her to share some randomness with her, to hear her encouragement and excitement at our daily adventures. Put that together with Mother’s Day and I’ve been a bit of a mess. I found myself seething with anger the more I went out. I would be at Walmart and they would have tables full of trinkets and signs that Mother’s Day was fast approaching. Even my email was full of offers to get mom the latest in electronics, an offer for a free cup of coffee for mom when you buy yours, and even an offer to get mom anti wrinkle treatment! Because isn’t that what every mom wants? (Heavy sarcasm!) I think my emotional roller coaster derailed when I stopped at Michaels for a few odds and ends. At the register was a sign that said, “Your mom called and she wants a Michaels gift card for Mother’s Day!” I had to hold myself back from punching the clerk and telling her, “Up yours and your moms!” I found myself crying in the car for a short while and wondering what my problem was. Did I hate Mother’s Day that much now? I felt like it was everywhere, in my face, mocking me for no longer having my mom to celebrate. But isn’t all the advertising making a mockery of mom’s everywhere? I have ODC tendencies, (I got it from my Momma) but that doesn’t mean that I want my family to get me a dyson. I don’t want random ceramic trinkets that will clutter shelves in my house. I want to spend a day with my children, and I would give anything to spend a day with my mom. Oddly enough, my mom was crafty and I do believe that much of her income went into a Michael’s register. But if she could call me, I doubt it would be to tell me that all she wanted for Mother’s Day was a gift card. Today, I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. My mom loved nothing more than to spend time with her babies. And I took that joy from her. I chose to move my family over 2,000 miles away. We didn’t spoil her with visits and our time. I didn’t do enough to celebrate her and her place as my mother. More often than not I was selfish with my time, and did not tell her enough how much I appreciate the sacrifice it took to raise me. Perhaps I felt that there would always be time, time to tell her, time to show her, time to celebrate her. Now that she is gone, I can’t help but think of all the things I could have done, should have done. Here I am, still in bed. Waring with myself to get up and get on with today. My little mini me brought me handmade artwork that I will cherish. I know I need to celebrate in the joy that I am now the Mom. I am the one who is devoted to her children, and I get to relish in time with my babies. I know those days are numbered as well. They are young now, but that is moving at the speed of light. All too soon they will be moving on and raising their own families. I will be the one asking for their time, their visits. Because I would rather have their time, then anti wrinkle treatments. If you have the blessings of being able to spend time with your mom, do it. Not for me, but for you. I am sure your mom wants nothing more for Mother’s Day than to enjoy you. Happy Mother’s Day. I hope to find a way to use today to celebrate my Momma and all that she was, is, and will be to me as I journey on through my days. May I do all that I can to honor her, and make her proud of the Mother I strive to be. One who loves unconditionally, carries a wooden spoon, and is not afraid to be herself. I love you, Momma.

“Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness.” -James Thurber

There are moments when you hear someone speaking to an audience, yet they are speaking directly at you. It may not be the very words that they are saying, but there is something in the message that gets into your soul and shakes you. There is something about a sentence, or a phrase that they speak that makes your thoughts go in another direction. Perhaps I am the only one? Somehow I don’t think that is the case. This morning I was listening to our pastor give a very powerful message and my mind wandered a little bit. I know he was getting into my kitchen, so to speak. One of those messages that gets very personal and makes you uncomfortable. Those messages make you think and make you see truths about yourself, your path, your actions, inactions, and your choices of where you are heading. You are faced with the good and the bad.

The truth is, I am angry. I have been angry for about two months now, and it has only risen on a near daily basis as circumstances continue to spiral even higher and more out of control. I can pin point the day that it seemed as though the final piece to a puzzle revealed itself to bring about completion to what I had been praying for God to allow us to have for years. Yet it seems as though with the introduction of that piece, many of the others were damaged and destroyed leaving my picture of perfection incomplete.

The church home and spiritual growth that I had craved and prayed for God to provide to our family completed it all for me. I was ready to jump in with both feet. I wanted to grab onto the teaching, vision and community with both hands. I could see my entire family once again being sharpened, on its way to becoming instruments to be used by God for his people. I should have seen it. After having been in the same spot of spiritual excitement, I should have known that it was coming… The storm. You can’t have all the pieces. I have witnessed spiritual warfare, and I know that there are forces who will seek, kill and destroy those who working towards God's will. The storm I have encountered this past year has had far reaching and damaging ripples, has stifled my ability to effectively serve the way I am accustom to, the way I desire to, and the way I feel called to. I have felt under attack, undermined and I will admit at times abandoned by God.

While much has been given, I can’t help but feel that so much has been taken away, so much, so quickly that I had to pause to see what was actually left. I can remember times in my life that were dark, scary, twisty and ugly yet God gave me amazing gifts that offered me hope and light. Out of what remains my most darkest and ugliest experience, He offered me what I considered to still be the most precious gift. A gift I still treasure and am determined to return to Him in eternal perfection. However, through this, I am left wondering where He is right now as I see so much vanishing, leaving me confused and scared. Where is His hedge of protection? Or is He allowing this test? What am I to take away from this? What purpose do this have on eternity? I have experienced moments that I fail to find words to describe. Moments that I would not believe, had I not been present to be in the midst of them. Moments that I never would have been able to create in my vivid far fetched, and at times irrational imagination. Moments that wake me in the middle of the night. They have tested my resolve, my faith, my confidence in myself, and my ability to recognize what is normal, and make me question if I will ever achieve any resemblance of it again. They have brought about feelings of fear, jealousy, guilt, inadequacy, denial and anger.

Yet here I sit, holding on to hope. I confessed, like a scared child to my mother in law that I was angry with God. She said that she was glad. Yes, glad. Being angry with God meant that I still believed that He was there. When I quit believing, then she was going to worry. She then reminded me that He is a big God and He can handle my anger. I hope that is the case, I have quite a large quantity of it as of late. No matter how hard I try to be still, be quite and listen, I can’t hear Him... yet. But I haven’t lost hope that He is there. I am still holding onto promises kept, with clenched fists and desperation. I am anxiously anticipating the revelation of His promises through this. After all, a God of love would not let all this be for nothing.

Jeremiah 29:11
For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.

Like a ton of bricks

Gravity. Flattered. Pressure. Fear. Comfort. Sinking. Anticipation. Overwhelmed. Love. Anger. Gratitude. Numb. Nostalgia. Sorrow. Joy. Guilt. Heartache. Redemption.

All words that describe and define moments of this past week.

Navigating this journey of life and being an adult is trying at times. I have had the oppressive desire to shut out the world around me and just retreat. Sleep, read, and ignore the obligations I have to others, and truthfully be selfish. I want so badly to throw myself a pity party and wallow in my selfishness. But where would that get me? Certainly not forward, where I so desperately want to be.

I am an adult. As hard as it is for me to believe, for it seems like just yesterday I was in fact a selfish teenager. I have to experience adult experiences. Raising children who become teenagers with their own personalities. I have to discipline, and teach these human beings and hope that I don’t absolutely screw them up. I have a mortgage, and insurance, and a credit score. I have had to make funeral arrangements for my mother. Make difficult decisions for elderly family members. Watch people I love struggle with cancer, lose, suicide. I am going to learn the experience of caring for an adult parent. My childhood friend had to make the difficult decision to let her husband go last night after all medical options were exhausted and his body could not sustain him any longer. Long gone are the days of being care free and knowing that my only worry is homework and filling my weekend calendar with complete debauchery. I am not my only concern. This is real. The joy and heartache of the journey.

While I have been lost in the midst of chaos, I have been blessed with moments. Simple moments that have given me joy and a sense of love and gratitude. Moments where my husband allows me to cry into the hours of the night. Moments where friends send me quick messages of encouragement. Using a blend of words that bring tears to my eyes and thankfulness to my heart for their presence in my life. Messages of funny, quirkiness that make me smile. I find myself overwhelmed that a picture or phrase made little me come to ones mind. Then they took the time to share that thought with me. I received the most random message late last night. A person I went to school with, but never had the opportunity to know personally sent me a message. It was simply that they had seen pictures and heard stories of me through the years from mutual friends. They gave me some of the most incredible compliments and thought I would like to know. I was completely overwhelmed with flattery and then guilt. How often have I had the opportunity to do the same for others? More than I can count. How often have I taken advantage of that opportunity and expressed encouragement and compliments? Nearly never.

Yes I am traveling a rough road. But it not a path that has never been travelled. Many have traveled this road. And I have no doubt that I am not alone. For many have made it aware to me that they are with me, willing to carry me even should I stumble, or feel the need to fall apart. Am I extending the same? I don’t think I am. Not well enough. I may not know the extend of the weight of the burdens that one who is traveling along side is carrying. But there is no reason I can find to not offer the same love, words, thoughts, prayers and encouragement that I have been so abundantly given. I do not need to have experienced the same grief, sorrow, lose, or pain to know that others need those vital things. No longer will I take for granted those who love me. No longer will I assume that there are others doing the same in kind for them as they are doing for me.


I feel the challenge to be more aware, more willing, and be more present. I can move forward on this journey with others. There is nothing stopping me. What is stopping you?

Forward Momentum

So often in January I reflect on the previous years adventures. How I may have stumbled, how I may have grown. And likewise as a family. How my children have succeeded and how they have grown. I haven’t quite found the time to spend on reflection. Perhaps it is denial, or rather that I am so focused on the coming changes that it makes it hard to look back.

I have accepted that 2011 dealt many challenges and I had to navigate around a few delicate wounds that I was not ready to encounter. Left untreated they only festered with infection that became a hinderance to personal growth. By November, I had Jake scheduled for surgery to repair his broken hand from soccer, Madison in physical therapy for a fractured back from soccer, my sister in route to California to care for our Mom who was is in the final stages of COPD, and Aaron found me at 3 am scrubbing the vents under the fridge with a toothbrush with one hand, and my cell phone in the other. My cell phone became a permanent fixture in my hand. The anxiety that something would happen, either here or in California was overwhelming. I couldn’t sleep, my chest hurt, I felt like I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t focus and my OCD was at an all time high. Luckily, my husband is an amazing, patient man. He suggested that I talk with our doctor, who is also a friend about my panic attacks. As embarrassing as it is to admit that you have lost a portion of control is, the timing was perfect.

I started medication for generalized anxiety and a medication to help me get some sleep. Within a few weeks Jake was taken care of, Madie was done with therapy and stronger than ever. I had spoken with Mom and she had an amazing weekend out and about. We had discussed some things that she was looking forward to during my visit I had planned for January. Only 5 days later I knew it wasn’t going to be. December was a blur. And I was thankful for the chemical help as well as the calming peace that I desperately prayed for.

I had made a promise to my mom that I would personally see to it that dad was taken care of should her passing come to be. She knew as well as I did that him staying in California and living alone was not going to be an option. Now some might call it fate, but I always think that God, being all knowing like he is, granted us an incredible mercy. My father in law was putting his retirement from the printing world into motion. He has also been pastoring for a sweet country church as well. He was approached with the opportunity to take his ministry to the next level, which he prayerfully accepted. With that came the news that he and my mother in law would most likely need to move. Leaving into question their home. With a few modifications it could provide more than enough room for my family of six, and accommodate the inclusion of my dad. So in July we will be moving across town, over the creek and through the woods. The kids will remain in the same school district and they will each have their own room. My dad will have his own room with access to the bathroom from his room as well.

In less than a years time there will have been so much change, transition and I pray growth in our family. From lose, to opportunity, to new perspectives, to additions. As we go through this forward momentum I am in continual prayer that God’s hand be on each of us. That patience will abound, that words be true, actions be right, and hearts be open.