Gifts

This isn't a man I knew. I never heard his voice or heard his laugh. I didn't know what he liked to eat or which hand he used to write. But this year his life changed mine. 

Christmas is two days away. I love Christmas and I hate it. I spend the majority of the time trying to rush and get things done. I'm worried I don't have enough. Or that what I bought wouldn't meet the right standards. I fear rejection over the presents that I buy. 

I know Christmas isn't about presents, but I love gifts just the same as others. I celebrate the reason for the season with my children. We know Christmas is celebrated because of God's selfless gift of Jesus Christ. No more gift could be so precious. And like so many others I get lost in a "gift."

The man in the picture is Chuck. He is my dear friends brother. Tragically, he was killed in a motor vehicle accident a few years ago. A life treasured and lost. Our paths never crossed, but I will never forget him. 

Each year his family gives in his honor.  This year they gave to mine. I was and am still overwhelmed with emotion. When I read the note they sent to me with their gifts, I sat in my car weeping. It wasn't required. They didn't have to give to us, they wanted to. I have never felt such true kindness. 

Starting this year, we are making a tradition of paying it forward. We will continue to give to others in Chuck's honor. His life changed ours. 

Love one another. Give with no expectations. Be kind. Love Jesus. Be selfless. 

Merry Christmas

Family schmamily

I'm writing tonight in perplexity. My last post was shocking to some. It contained taboo subject matter. It was hurtful. Grotesque. Ugly. I knew that it would bring pain to some. And I knew it would set parts of me free. 

I know who my biological father is. I've checked him out at the grocery store numerous times. And at my Grandma's funeral, one of my uncles introduced me as his brothers daughter. But I was never his. 

When my mom got married I got a whole new family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, nanny and papa. I loved them. I still do. Very deeply. We've all been mad at each other for various reasons. And then forgiven or at least tolerated the other person. They are mine. Or were. 

Fifteen minutes after my last blog post I received a phone call from an aunt. I let it go to voicemail. It was astounding. I was kicked out of the family. I understand their pain and disbelief. They were aware. Cried with me when they found out saying they would have saved me. And now because I broke the silence that has entrapped me, I got the boot. 

I was deleted from facebook accounts. Told "even if" those things happened I didn't need to tell the whole county. Appearances in the community are taking precedence over my healing, my journey. 

Here's my conclusion. Fine. Go for it. Disown me. I'll still be me. I'll still love you. I'll still want healing between us. However, I won't be silent anymore. I won't be held under the bondage. I now know who I am. I'm fine with it.  My family has no shame to bear. If the entire world knows the baggage isn't theirs to carry. 

And here's some more of what I've learned. Family is who loves you for you. Who comes when you need it. When my darling Shelbie had her seizure there was an army of people from OB waiting for me. Organized by my soul mate Hil. After my recent surgery they were the ones who called, sent pizza, texted, and came by. That's my family. Then ones I want in the trenches of despair and on the hills of happiness. 

I still stand.

My story

Last Saturday my dad had been gone three years. I went to work. Had a normal day. Memory of that day flitted through my head but didn't really make me sad. That makes me seem cold and heartless. But I'm really not. This is the hardest post I'll ever write. 

My mom got married when I was five. The man she married adopted me. That's when my life changed. He was a fun loving caring individual. People liked him. He worked at a local garage and drove a wrecker. He was damn good at it and helped at many motor vehicle accidents. But he was also a sick man. 

The first time I was molested I was five. I told. It was a big deal. And it was never supposed to happen again. But that's a darkness and a sickness that never goes away. Through the next decade those episodes happened repeatedly. The depths of depravity in my childhood aren't for the faint of heart and I still have trouble telling them. 

I became an insecure mess. I believed that it was my fault. I thought that I made him feel that way. I was afraid to tell anyone because I didn't want anyone to not like him. I knew his family wouldn't believe me, and I was afraid I'd never see my mom again. That's a heavy burden for a child. 

I've often said that I ate my way to safety. No one wants a fat girl. The more depressed and abused I became, the more I ate. I'm still a nervous eater. A habit I'll probably never kick. 

As the years went on I became the most socially akward teenager ever. I didn't take care of myself. I didn't shower often enough. Changes in my body freaked me out. When hormones hit I became attracted to boys it felt dirty and wrong. I was clingy and desperate for friendship. I thought everyone one knew I was a dirty whore and didn't like me. None of those things were true. I hated going home and tried so hard not to. 

It's strange how all your life you want out. Away from the hell you live in, but when I became old enough I was too afraid to do it. The world is a scary place. I'm still afraid of the dark and have just recently been able to sleep alone in my house. The damage abuse does stays with you. It's like layers of an onion. Even when you peel one away, there's more. 

I had no idea how to deal with boys. I still don't. I can talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere; But if a man approaches me I become instantly stupid and crazy. I have trust issues before I can even remember their name. 

The anxiety that has consumed me from my experiences is hard to shake. The fear of being molested and raped is something I deal with on a regular basis. I swear sex offenders can instantly tell that you are "their" type. Memories every once in a while pop up in my mind and make me a mess. I even still dream about it. It never ever heals. 

Most of my family and friends know. It all came out a few years ago. It was just as traumatic as my childhood. It changed my whole life. Now my family understood why I didn't give Johnnie my dads name even though he was named after his other grandpa. And they knew why I eloped. I just couldn't let my dad give me away. Or why I refused to breast feed my children. It made me feel dirty. And why I was so weird. I didn't know how to be normal. 

I didn't write this for sympathy. I wrote because it frees me. I loved my dad. I grieved for him. Part of me misses him. I forgave him years ago. If I didn't let it go, it was going to kill me. I've only been to the cemetery once since he passed. I hope his heart was right with the Lord. 

I'm sure I'll be disowned by a few family members. I'll hear how the internet isn't the place to air your business. It's really not. But I don't care. This is my story. This is my life. 

Japanese spaghetti and we take em light

I get the urge to write in the strangest places. Phrases and thoughts rush through my mind and I always worry I'll forget them. Today was one of those days. 

When my mom married my dad I was five. My biological father wasn't a part of my life, so I got adopted. There were some pretty terrible things that resulted from that. It's been three years this November since he's past. I've been thinking about blogging about just him and my childhood. But I guess I'm not ready. 

I like to remember the good things from my youth. When my parents married I instantly had another family. Aunts, uncles, and cousins. Immediate and extended. I can't say we've always gotten along or that it was always perfect. That's just family I suppose. 

My dad had an aunt and uncle he was particularly close to. Warren and Leo. They had a HUGE house full of kids and food. Leo was one of the best cooks I've ever met. Her and Warren had the most majestic gardens. I swear they could grow anything. I spent many many nights riding bikes off the hill in their backyard. 

Today was Leo's funeral. It was so bittersweet. Hearing the stories. Reconnecting with family I hadn't seen in ages and perusing my own memories. 

Japanese spaghetti. It's one of my favorite things Leo ever made. She had this big pot and I swear she made enough to feed a thousand people. It's not Japanese. It's bacon, burger, green peppers, onions, carrots, and ketchup. All mixed together with spaghetti noodles. I used to beg for it. I ate endless plates of it sitting around her dining room table playing "pass the trash." Sometimes if I close my eyes I can hear the laughter. I miss that laughter. 

I feel like my kids are missing that. The coming together of family. Crazy memories. Laughing until they pee their pants. Life is so busy. And we just don't take the time. It breaks my heart. 

My dad and his cousins had a special bond. Just to sit and watch them interact was a treat. They were ridiculous together. Schemes, plans, and adventures were planned and usually resulted in bouts of hysterical laughter. 

I don't remember all of the story, but there's one involving my dad and his cousins. I believe they all went to the cemetary at night. At one point some one spit out the phrase, "we take em light." I can't tell you how many times I heard them say that at random times to each other and then laugh like crazy. God, how I miss that. 

Some of my favorite memories were spent at Warren and Leo's. Today as we gathered to say goodbye I felt bereft. I sat amongst some of my favorite playmates. I laughed. I cried. And I felt lost. My life is leaving me. Piece by little piece. And I'm hanging on dearly to those memories. I don't want to forget. 

I want to take em light, eat some Japanese spaghetti, and play some pass the trash....

 

Call anesthesia!

Tonight was the worst night of my life. I watched my two year old have a grand mal seizure. I watched her turn blue and while holding her in my arms, I felt her stop breathing. At this moment, I'm sitting next to a bed on the pediatric ward, scared out of my damned mind. 

Life never prepares you for anything. And the skills you think you have are virtually useless when it's your own child.  Your mind is fuddled, you can't even remember how to dial 911. It's probably to soon to write about this, but I'm awake and scared. And I need to write. 

I work labor and delivery. It's nuts. It's fun. And it's scary. I'm the secretary. I tell everyone over and over, I just answer the phone and file the papers. Essentially, that's true. And when it all goes to hell, you call anesthesia. And Michelle. 

I know lots of numbers. I can tell you almost every extension we ever need to call. I know nurses and techs personal numbers by heart. And my friend Misti, the care manager, I know her extension, pager, and cell number. In emergencies I've dialed them in a panic and never forgot them. I can't remember to make patient folders on a daily basis, but I can call people. 

Earlier this year it became a requirement for every staff member to have BLS. Basic life saving skills. I have jokingly said if someone collapses in front of me, all I'm going to know how to do is call anesthesia. 

On our way home tonight, 100 feet from my driveway, I glanced back at Shelbie. I'll never ever forget her face. If you've never seen a grand mal seizure, it's like someone being possessed. Her eyes were fixed and her whole body shaking. She wouldn't respond because she couldn't. When I got around the car and opened her door she was turning blue. As I carried her towards the neighbors house I heard her sigh and couldn't feel her breathe. There's no rational thinking. There's just panic and adrenaline. I laid my baby on the ground begging her not to leave me. And trying to remember what to do. I did chest compressions, I don't even really know if I should have. I just know I thought my baby died. I cried, I prayed, and I did every life saving thing I knew. 

I wanted anesthesia and I wanted Michelle. In our little regulated hospital environment, there's a process to the chaos. In your neighbors front yard, there's nothing. But you, and the neighbor telling dispatch to do something! And the ambulance seems to take forever!

She's now laying sound asleep in her little hospital crib. I'm sitting in the chair watching her. I'm a hot damn mess. Every time in close my eyes I can see her. I can hear my Shiloh screaming and running for help. I'm so proud of her, by the way. My little first responder. 

My L&D girls were here. Waiting when they walked us through the door. Those kinds of moments bind you even tighter. No questions asked, just ready to do whatever I needed. I am forever grateful. 

I may never recover from this. I thought I lost her. I don't understand how people recover. I'm fortunate. Mines right here. Breathing. I know because I keep checking. I feel like I did everything wrong. Helpless and lost, and I don't want to go home tomorrow. 

For now I'll watch her sleep. Thanking God again for not taking her from me. I won't sleep at night. I'll cry. And I'll bury my face in her neck at night just to smell that baby smell and hear her breathe. And breathe. And breathe.

Boy: n. A noise with dirt on it

I was never having kids. I said that over and over. I didn't want to be a mom. I wasn't going to be good at it. I was afraid my childhood would cause me not to be normal. I didn't even like little kids. They were hard to control. I look back on that now and see how wrong I was. I love all my children. They are beautiful and unique. My girls are amazing, smart, and are going to change the world. And my boy, well he stole my whole heart. 

When Shiloh came along I was scared and afraid of having a girl. Girls get abused. And she's all girl all the time. I wouldn't trade her for anything, but I can't even describe the excitement I felt when I saw that little boy swimming along in my ultrasound. 

I bought every camoflage item I could get my hands on. I bought ball caps, boots, pirate binkies, cars, trucks, trains...well you get the picture. We were going to have a boy!!!

Being a mom has changed me. Healed me. And strengthened me. I love it. The daily routine is constantly shaken up by the funny and amazing things my kids do. 

This is the funniest child I have ever met. He makes me laugh constantly. He always says what he thinks. Occasionally he curses. It's not appropriate, but I can't help myself but to giggle. He's sweet, caring, and tougher than nails. I call his antics Johnnie-isms. They are epic. 

I'm trying so hard to raise all of them in The Lord. And to teach them a servants heart. I want nothing more than to see all of my children saved and doers of the word. I think it's especially important for the boys to learn to be the spiritual leader. And I completely lose my heart every night when I hear Johnnie pray, "God, you are wonderful and beautiful."

Being married has taught me so many things. Mostly how I never want my girls to be treated, and how I want Johnnie to never ever treat a woman. Some days I'm worried that he's surrounded by women too much. The boy wears heels for crying out loud! 

I'm so stupid in love with him. I didn't know I'd say things like, "Get your hands off your weiner," as much as I do. I didn't know peeing outside was a rite of passage. And I didn't know I'd ever love so much. 

This post is mostly about Johnnie. I love them all. But I felt the desire to write about him. I'm the only girl he'll ever love. I make him tell me every day. I'm so proud of him. And I hope that he'll love with his whole heart. That he'll respect everyone, especially whomever he chooses to be with. And I hope he becomes a strong man of faith. 

A man who treats his woman like a princess is proof he was raised by a queen....

America

"I'm just a singer of simple songs

I'm not a real political man

I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell

You the difference in Iraq and Iran

But I know Jesus and I talk to God" 

---Alan Jackson---

13 years. It's a lifetime. I struggle to remember yesterday sometimes, but I know exactly where I was. I even remember the shoes I was wearing that day. Fear, sadness, anger, and an overwhelming desire to do something hit me in an instant. 

I can't say I'm much different than I was then. I'm older and a mom now. I work, pay bills, and take my freedom for granted. There are a few things in the political world that I'm educated on. I have very strong opinions about them and I will express those opinions at any given point. Mostly my day is filled with kids, diapers, and grape jelly. 

I love being American. I'm a patriotic kind of girl. I've always been a sucker for a man in uniform. I think self sacrifice for others in noble and honorable. I get teary eyed at the national anthem and TAPS. I think our country is great. But as Merle would say, we're a snowball headed straight for hell. 

I'm baffled by the injustice and absurdity in this world. Our own citizens struggle with no healthcare, but you come from another country you can get it all. Especially if you're expecting a baby. No matter your wealth in your home country, good ole America will foot the bill. Yet we have hard working Americans who can't afford to have their teeth cleaned. And let's not forget, if you come here it's our job to speak your language, allow you to express your religious freedom, and cut you a break for your cultural differences that we don't practice.

Our veterans are homeless, suffering from PTSD, and many other ugly things. But we give more help to aliens than our own who sacrificed to give us our freedom. I find that disgusting. 

America has become a place of constant anger and conflict. Everyone wants their way at the cost of someone else's. Gay, straight, Christian, atheist, black, and white. We are fighting for equality in a world of selfish buffoons. Equality requires compromise, giving, and acceptance. 

September 11, 2001 changed us all. It put fear in us we never experienced before. It united us as one. It made us a strong force to be reckoned with. And it made us avengers. I reflect on that time often. Where I was, what I felt. I still cry. It still takes my breath away. And I'm still pissed at the terrorists who managed to catch us unaware. 

America is beautiful. It's crazy. And it's the only country I'll ever call home. I'll rant and rave about my tax dollars being spent to pass a law for permission slips to use tanning beds if you're a minor, but absolutely no legislation to charge mothers who abuse drugs during pregnancy. But I'll also be a die hard red blooded, flag waving, patriotic fool until I die. I'm thankful for my home. As jacked up as she is.

God Bless America. We will never forget. 

I could love you if....

I'm a lover and a lover of words. I'm also a fighter. Not a fists and violence kind of girl. But I will have the last word and I will use words, lots of them, to cut you. And when I love you, I will shower you with all kinds of words. 

Language in it's positive form can build, restore, and heal. Music, poetry, books; all of these are made of words. Pleasing to the eyes, ears, and soul. The greatest book ever written, God's Holy Word, tells numerous stories. Stories you can vividly imagine, depicted by the words God gave each and every writer. 

Much negativity can come from our words as well. Degrading and abusive. Mean and cold hearted. I myself am guilty of saying things I can't take back that have hurt others. 

I'm constantly worried how other people feel about me. I haven't reached the I don't care point in life. And I'm always devastated by the negative words said about me. 

When I was 18 I was madly in love with a friends brother. Typical high school stuff. Being insecure made me a desperate fool, something I still battle with. One night I got brave enough to call him. That call changed everything. I heard him say, "Here talk to her. It's my sister's friend. She's like 300 lbs." I hung up instantly sobbing from the hurt. I couldn't believe that was the only thing he had to say about me. Surely, I was more than my weight. It took me a long time to let that go. Sometimes I'm not even sure I have. I still hang my head in embarrassment when I see him. I'm sure it's long forgotten in his mind, but it is something I'll never forget. Careless words...

I work with a wonderful lady who never fails to tell me that I do a good job. When all hell breaks loose on the unit, she always comes to me afterwords to say thank you for calling people and running. Validation and reassurance of a job well done. Thoughtful words...

I could love you if...

I hate those words. I've heard them countless times. Followed by all the reasons I'm not good enough. It begins to transform you into a person who believes that you'll never be good enough. That no matter how hard you try you will never measure up. It puts you in a place of uncertainty until you aren't even sure who the real you is. The constant change has you lost. 

In the past 7 months I've learned things about me I forgot. I love to sleep late. It's ok if I'm crabby in the morning. Cereal is ok for supper. I have fat, but it doesn't define me. Tattoos make me insanely happy. My opinion is mine. It's ok if I share it. Spending time with my friends hurts no one. Being alone sucks sometimes. And sometimes it's glorious. I'm a fantastic mess when I'm pissed. And I'm even better when I'm truly happy. 

I will never again settle for, "I could love you if..." Love isn't perfect. It's messy. It hurts. It's powerful. And I long desperately for it. But I will not take anything less than love freely given. Without expectation and conditions. And I will give that kind of love back. 

Change sucks

Nothing ever stays the same. It's both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes I like change. I'm learning to embrace it. And sometimes it just sucks. I have to be dragged kicking and screaming while I'm grasping to hang on to where I want to stay. 

Three years ago I started working on a labor and delivery unit. I love my job. I'm not foolish enough to believe it will always be secure, but I love it. It's a tough crowd sometimes and you have to earn your keep. Those girls are tough. Rock solid. And their family. My family. 

In November of 2011 my dad suddenly passed away. I had only been working on L&D for a few months. I hadn't earned my keep yet. My dads death was hard. Unexpected. And I had a lot if emotions to deal with from my childhood. It's at those times when a small gesture means so much. During the visitation I turned to find a coworker coming to find me. A woman I barely knew who lived over an hour away. That simple act of kindness created a bond I hope to never lose. 

This is my friend Stephanie, but I call her Melton. I love this woman. She was the only one from work that came at one of the most traumatic times of my life. I know the others were busy and I was new. But Melton came. Just to be kind, and because that's what she does. She shows up to help. She cooks. She gives the most fantastic lip balm at Christmas. And she makes me laugh. 

I've learned tons from Steph. She has the best stories about life. She taught me how to make the best pie crust I've ever ate. I'm learning to be a more relaxed parent. And that worrying is futile. Life will continue whether I worry or not. And I've learned bunions are a problem. 

Melton is leaving our unit. Moving on to a job that fits her life better. She'll still be in the hospital. She's still going to cover shifts. But I'm freaking out. She's leaving! Whose going to make me pie?! Where am I going to get parenting advice?! Whose going to make me laugh?! This is the change I hate. It's like my family is moving away. I'm happy that she'll be happy, but I don't want her to go.

In reality I know that friendships aren't over because someone switches jobs. And that change is inevitable. But I also know I'm gonna cry like a baby and probably cling to her leg begging her to stay. 

More change is coming. More people will enter my life and then move on to something else. Life will go on. I don't always have to like it, but I might as well accep it.

My favorite Melton-ism: "Amy, lower your standards of cleanliness. You'll feel better." 

A lonely exile

Lonliness....destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship,intercourse, support, etc.:

a lonely exile.

It's a terrible place to be. The constant searching. The need to be wanted. The desire to have someone. To be two united as one. 

I like my solitude. I like time to myself. I like moments where I can reflect, create, and write. I like doing what I like and not answering to anyone. But I also like time of togetherness and passion. My ideals of a relationship are skewed. I think a relationship is grounded in fear. Fear of losing that person over petty things like razors and hair dye. Fear of who they talk to when you're not around. Fear of not being enough. Fear of rejection. In my mind I'm afraid I'll never be good enough. 

It's possible to be lonely in a relationship. To feel isolated and lost. I was lonely for eight years. And afraid. I'm afraid now. 

I hate dating. It's the most ridiculous institution on the planet. I'm more straight forward. If I like you I like you. I'm terribly insecure and nervous. And I come across as a neurotic woman. I'm ok with neurotic in my comfort zone. There's a certain kind of joy in being crazy. It just doesn't work well in dating. 

I'm in a new chapter in my life. But I'm not all that excited about it. As stupid as I think dating is, I really want to date. But I'm not sure I can. I'll always know that there's someone skinnier, prettier, quiter, and saner than I am. 

My kids are down the hall sleeping. They were with him all weekend. They need that. But it's a terrible time for me. To be surrounded by the quiet. I spend most of that time laying on the couch while my mind races on. I'm ok with me on most levels. But dark parts of me are back. The ones that feel hopeless and alone. 

Today I went to work. I laughed. I talked. I soaked up the fantasticness that is my friends. I made salsa with one of my favorite women. Then I came home. That's when the sadness comes. I'm so out of place here. This isn't my home anymore. I walk into this house feeling the weight of fear settle over me. I need out. I need freedom. And I need someone. 

Once again today I was riddled with criticism. Hearing how I'm nothing. How I just stand with my hand out to take money. How no man will want me because I'm trash, unless it's some drunk thief. Hearing how I'm allowed to do this and not do that. I'm a liar and a whore. And he can't wait until I'm dead. 

It wears on you. Destroys pieces of you each day. And the longer you go with no one, the more truth you see in those words. It must be true. My phone is silent. There's no one there. I'll continue on this path of nothingness...it's scary. What if I enter another terrible relationship because I'm lonely? I can't do this again. I'll be so blinded by the security of not being alone and I'll let them tear me down. 

I'd give anything for peace. For contentment. For there to be no lonliness. I'm sad tonight. I'm sitting in my chair afraid to go to bed. It's lonely there. 

http://youtu.be/yJbmXvBJhCs

It's not your eyes

It's not what you say

It's not your laughter

That gives you away

You're just lonely

You've been lonely, too long

The stars that shine

I've wept over a man I didn't know. I've whispered prayers for his soul. I'm stunned, shocked, and bereft. And I understand. 

My first five years of life were the best. I spent them in the safety of Grandma Bell's house being spoiled and loved. The years that followed were not as pretty. It's taken me years to get to this point, but I now talk about it freely. I grew up in a home of abuse. The shame of that was overwhelming in my younger years. I now know it wasn't my fault. My dad was a sick man and needed help he never received. Don't feel pity for me. I don't. I feel liberated. Tough. Amazingly strong. 

I've always combated my demons with food and laughter. I'll eat my way out of it and when I can't I'll make you laugh. Inside I'm a mess. I'm depressed. I hate me. I feel worthless and lost. Many times standing in a crowd with a smile on my face I feel like I'm circling the drain. 

Suicide has crossed my mind a thousand times. I've truly believed that if I left no one would care. Had I not been involved in church to hear the hellfire and brimstone sermons I probably would have ended my life years ago. I've been trapped in fear and shame. In lonliness and insecurity. I can't honestly tell you what's held me back from suicide other than the fiery pits of hell forever frightens me. 

It's a dark road to be on. The plights of depression. To see and feel no hope. To know you're not wanted. To be rejected. As easily as I love, I hate. I'm constantly riddled with emotion. I'm a sensitive soul.  When I hurt, I hurt deeply and I struggle to move past it. 

My heart aches for those affected by the loss of Robin Williams. I hurt over the loss. I never met him, but it was evident what a beautiful human being he was. It's also a true testament of the demons we all face. Some of us are able to battle it differently and some of us succumb to the pressure. 

I don't know where his soul is. I know I was taught that suicide is a sin and you will go to hell. Deep in my heart I pray he had a chance to get right with The Lord. I'll never know. This world lost a genius. A true genuine and caring human being. It baffles my mind to think there are truly evil people who have not a care and never feel pain for what they've done, but those who truly give and love find ending their life the answer. 

Do I feel suicidal? Not today. Am I depressed? Yes, nearly everyday. I'm lonely. I'm insecure. I'm seeking someone to make me feel whole and that will never happen. Do I want inner peace? Yes more than anything. 

I encourage you all to not judge the sensitive soul. We aren't weak. We aren't dumb. We just feel more deeply than most. Understand that we don't possess the ability to just get over it. And without expressing ourselves we would fall to our demons quicker. Let us be ourselves and love us anyways, it's really all we want. 

God speed Robin. I pray you found your peace.... 

http://youtu.be/69v3usAk8oA

Ripples in the pond

Each day is a new beginning. Each word spoken can change a life. Each action can affect the lives of many. Each opportunity for kindness should be grasped and exhausted. We have the power to change the world. 

I often view myself as a tiny speck in life. Mostly I think that's true. The world is vast and diverse. And I don't even know if I'm noticed. Sometimes that's a good thing. 

When I was in my early twenties my Grandma Bell told me that when she was younger she prayed everyday that she would be a blessing. Her life was a true testament of Christian love. And pure kindness. No one left her home hungry, cold, or feeling unloved. She was my blessing and savior. When she left this earth a piece of my soul went with her. The lessons she taught me are too numerous to mention but are evident in my everyday life. 

I'm a succer for people. I have a very soft heart and a sensitive personality. I forgive too easily at times. And can be naive to what people really are. But I love to give. I love to care. I love to love. 

I met a woman a few months ago. She was in a terrible place in life. Addicted. Lost. Afraid. I've seen the power of addiction in others and the destruction it causes. I believe it's a life long battle but it can be won. I've seen that too. I can be very judgemental, especially of mothers who choose drugs over their children. I'm not sure what made me full of compassion for this woman, but I felt the overwhelming need to offer her support. 

As we talked about life and the choices we make I knew she needed prayer. I asked if I could pray over her. Even if she'd said no I'd have found a place to pray and lay her at the Lord's feet. I prayed for that woman. I told her she was better than the situation she was in and she could change it. I never saw her again. She never came back. I've thought of her often wondering where life had taken her. 

Today I ran into her and I didn't recognize her. She stopped in passing and said, "Excuse me. Do you remember me? You prayed for me." I was blown away. I can't even describe the emotion that filled me. She's clean, happy, working, and attending church. She told me that she hoped she'd see me again some day to say thank you. And that she knew God could do anything. 

I am filled with so much joy for her. I am shocked that my simple prayer held so much meaning for her. I didn't do anything. I know that praying for her was at God's leading. I am constantly amazed at the little ways He works. I may never see her again, but her life touched mine. I'm so humbled to have been used in her life. 

I, like my grandma, hope I'm a blessing. I hope no one ever leaves my company hungry, cold, or feeling unloved. I pray that I use the opportunities God gives me. And I hope I never become prideful in my abilities. 

Be kind. Be compassionate. Love one another. You never know when one simple act will help change a person's life. 

Moving forward

Today was the day. Eight years, three kids, two cars, a house, and tons of life lessons over and done with. I'm not sure what I feel. I think deep inside there's a sadness. Sadness over the failure. Sadness over the change. There's alot of fear. Where will I live? How will I handle holidays alone? Will my kids be so messed up from this they never have a normal stable relationship? Are they going to hate me? Am I going to be alone forever?

When I was a little girl I always pretended to be married. It was my favorite thing to play. I had it planned out. He was going to be devoted to me. And love me. He was going to think I was the most beautiful woman on the planet. He would never be interested in anyone but me. And we would grow old together. I carried a lot of expectations into my marriage. 

It was never anything I thought it would be. It's not magical. It's not easy. It's rarely romantic. Marriage is hard. It's a journey. Ever changing. It takes years to build and an instant to destroy. Getting it back after infidelity or other forms of mistrust is often impossible. 

I don't regret it. I've learned so much. About men. About marriage. And most importantly about myself. I'm a remarkably forgiving and resilient person. At times I've thought I was weak and worthless. I am not. I've withstood the storm. I've let it damage me. I will wear those scars with pride, knowing I didn't let it kill me. I won't settle. 

I hate that my kids hurt. I hate that he hurts. I hate that others around us hurt. I hate being the outcast. The ex. The used to be friend. I hate that people choose sides. I hate that they tattle like children. I hate that they push you away. 

Today is the end of some things. The beginning of others. I'm terrified that the lonliness will swallow me. I'm terrified I will always believe that my body is what keeps me from finding love. I'm afraid my knight in shining armour, who will teach me love is real, will never come. I'm afraid I'll never feel whole. 

To those who have walked away from me, treated me as an outcast, ran your mouth, called me names, and betrayed me during this; to you I say fuck you. I will walk away from the pain you've caused me and I will never give you another thought. 

To those of you have carried me, prayed with me, wiped my tears, called, showed up and listened; thank you. Your kindness and love are what have kept me from going insane. 

To my OB girls. My love for you knows no end. You have been my sounding board. My strength. My laughter. My advisors. Thank you for being my family. For accepting me as I am. For sticking up for me and for your encouragement. 

To my darling Christine. The very first day I met you was epic. Today you came to sit beside me in court. To tell me that it was ok. And to ask me if I sprayed froo froo spray in the bathroom because if I didn't my, "hoohah must smell good." That's always important....I will love you always. 

I will be ok. I am ok. I'm divorced and slightly crazy. 

Wisdom of the ages...

I over analyze everything. I love to hear what others think, and I constantly want others opinions and advice. I may not follow it, but I want to hear it. 

I was blessed with a crazy family. On both sides. And they aren't shy about giving you their advice. I have fantastic friends too...they aren't shy either. Here's some of my favorite advice. 

1. You knew what I was when you picked me up

My daddy always told me a story when I was frustrated with my own choices. It goes like this: 

A man was at the top of a mountain getting ready to go down. A snake lying on the ground said, "Sir it's such a long way down. Will you carry me to the bottom?" The man thought and said, "No, you will bite me." The snake responded, "Oh no sir, if you help me I promise I won't bite you." So the man picked up the snake a carried him to the bottom of the mountain. When the man sat the snake on the ground it turned and bit him. "Why did you do that?! You promised you wouldn't!" The man yelled. The snake replied, "You knew what I was when you picked me up."

This story has proved to be true in so many things in life. Dating, friends, jobs...so many times we make unwise choices and get upset by it even though we knew what the outcome would be. Be careful of what you pick up. 

2. Never date a man you wouldn't marry

My dad had three sisters. We call them the twisted sisters. They LOVE to tell you how to live your life. Sometimes it's disturbing, sometimes it's amazing advice.

When my cousins and I reached dating age my Aunt Pat always said, "Never date a man you wouldn't marry." I thought this was the dumbest thing I had ever heard. But there is a lot of truth in that statement. We meet someone. We start dating. Getting to know someone takes time but it rarely gets taken. So many times we jump right in to a relationship and get serious before we should. 

I don't regret my marriage. It's given me three amazing children and taught me a lot about myself. But I jumped in. I wanted to be loved so badly and to be married. I can't say what would have happened if things would have went slower. Maybe we wouldn't have ended up here. 

I will tell my girls this advice. And  my Johnnie too...don't date someone you wouldn't want to spend the rest of your life with. Date someone who treats you with respect, sacrifices for you, worships with you, has the same values as you, and most of all loves you completely. If they don't meet your standards move on. Never ever settle for less. 

3. You are who you hang with

More advice from the twisted sisters...

I like people most of the time. I trust too easy and get burned. When I was younger I was impressionable. If my friends wanted me to do it I usually did because I was afraid of the rejection. It's easy to get caught up in your situation and surroundings. 

I didn't realize how important it was to guard yourself until I had my own kids. I'm scared for the people they will meet in their life. And I hope I raise them with enough sense to be true to God and themselves. 

Scripture says: 

• Proverbs 12:26

  A righteous man is cautious in friendship, but the way of the wicked leads them astray.
  
  
• It's human nature to be like those around you I think. For the first time in my life I'm learning the value of true friendship. And I want to be with God fearing, honest, kind friends. And I'm learning sometimes it's better to cut unhealthy relationships out of your life.

4. Don't flog a dead horse

My Uncle Ken is the best man I've ever known. I truly believe God gave him to me to save me. If I'd have been given a choice for a dad he'd have been the man I picked. He's a rock solid Christian man. Works hard. He's usually pretty quiet but when he speaks it has a lot of meaning. 

He's notorious for responding to situations with one sentence. My favorite is, "don't flog a dead horse." 

I suck at letting go. I dwell on things. I worry. I ponder. I hang on with every single fiber of my being. It gets me no where. I just need to stop. You can't fix some things. Sometimes it's just better to let things be.

5. Either change it or love yourself

This is a new one. Just recently said to me by a complete stranger. He was funny and nice. We bonded over karaoke. As we watched the crowd around us and picked out songs we chatted about life. I'm a very open person and have a tendency to cut myself down. During one of my self critical moments he said, "Let me give you some advice. Either change it or love yourself." I was blown away. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before, but this time it changed me. 

I'm not stunning but I'm pretty. My skin sags. I'm big. I'm talking big. It's not attractive. Or at least that's what's been drilled in my head. I so often feel like I'm not good enough. And that no matter what good there is in me there will be no one who sees past my faults. I'm not a 100% on the loving me yet, but im working on it. 

I'll never see that man again. But I'll never forget him. Ever. His words changed my life. It was a chance encounter and now a favorite memory. I love those moments in life. The ones that just happen and take you by surprise. 

There it is. A few words. Things that have stuck with me. Stories I tell. Advice that has stuck with me. I may never be considered wise. I may never follow the advice I'm given. But I have learned a few things and I will learn a few more. And I will try to live a good life.  

If it's on the internet it must be true

I find myself ridiculously gullible. And for a person who works in the public, I'm naive as to the honesty or lack there of in those I meet. Sometimes I think someone could sell me ocean front property located right here in Missouri...

This week has been one full of news, chaos, goodness, and complete absurdity. And it was all reported in the social media. I've read things that made me cry, I've read things that were interesting, and I've read things that cracked me up. 

I'm sure many in my area heard of the tragedy surrounding a child that drown. Before he was located it was blowing up my newsfeed on Facebook. In the days following it continued to dominate many friends posts. I think social media is both a blessing and a curse. Funds have been set up for the family. With the click of a button you can offer monetary support to a family in despair. In the same instance you can read the posts of those who feel it's their job to judge his parents, the business owners, and anyone else involved. I feel a deep sense of compassion for them. We may never know the circumstances that led to that child's death, but I'm positive it was not something his parents wanted. It's easy to get distracted. Kids are quick. You never think it could happen to you. I hate to think of what that mother is going through. I could never imagine the loss of my child, nor can I imagine trying to bear the guilt I'm sure she's feeling now. But where is our compassion? Where is our kindness? Why must everyone cast out so much hate?

On the lighter side of life I've seen some good things. Pictures of my friends children. Celebrations of marriage. New homes. Great memories. I love that. It gives a sense of connection I might not otherwise have. 

I've also seen the down right ridiculous. Today while scrolling through Facebook I saw an article I almost couldn't believe. According to the internet, if you are a medical marijuana patient in California, they can sell you a product that will cause a long lasting pleasure with your partner. I'm flabbergasted. Who comes up with this?! 

And now we come to this. I write because I like it. It's therapy for my soul. I share it because I have hope that maybe I can help others. Or inspire someone. I don't know who reads this blog. I don't know their reactions or thoughts. Since I've started people in Russia and Algeria have read my blog. That blows my mind. Technology is a fantastic creation. I can't even remember what's it's like to not have the whole world at your fingertips. I worry about my survival skills without the internet. 

I'm sure this week will pass just like the last one. Tragedies, blessings, laughter, and just plain life. I just hope we remember to love one another and show kindness. 

And in the spirit of truth on the internet, have you seen this? I knew it was true all along!!! Bahahahaha!!!

http://youtu.be/znzocTa3S4o

Joy cometh in the morning

Yesterday I told God He sucked. I was mad. I'm not nice when I'm mad. In the middle of my why-does-everyone-I-care-about-hurt-me tantrum I let God have it. I have mixed feelings about this. Probably not the wisest thing to say to the Almighty. The Alpha and Omega. The Beginning and the End. 

Life sometimes is crap. It's not fair. It hurts. It sucks the very joy from your soul. I find it easy to stay in the lows of life. Even when it's good I'm waiting for it to go bad. 

Working in labor and delivery reminds me often that life sometimes is crap. But mostly it reminds me of hope. New life. Creation. And instantaneous love. That's the best part. 

This is my friend Amy. I love her. I met her three years ago on the L&D unit. This chick rocks. She can sew anything. She makes the absolute best asparagus and pea casserole ever. (Don't knock it until you try it.) She's really funny and when we are together we're down right hysterical. 

She's also tough. I'm talking rock solid. When I met Amy she was a young mother and widow. Not even in her thirties and had been through an unimaginable loss. I don't know all of her journey. It's not mine to know. But she shows joy and happiness. Even after a death that seems so unfair she has joy. 

And The Lord said: 

To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.

Isaiah 61:3

Yep I've used this verse before. But apparently I needed to hear it again. 

I'm so self absorbed these days I almost miss the amazing things in life. How God gives good. How sometimes life isn't crap, but extremely precious and rare. In the midst of my fit I felt The Lord show me the truth behind that verse. 

Meet Mikah Sueann. I'm stupidly in love with this baby. She's perfect. She's joy. And she's beauty....

My friend Amy has remarried. A fantastic man. As I watched them gaze upon their new baby it struck me; this right here is beauty for your ashes. God brought Shawn and Amy together. And from that came Mikah. And love.

I'll never understand why God took Amy on her journey. I'm sorry for the hurt she's endured. But I'm also inspired. I'm thankful for her friendship. I'm so glad God brought her into my life. 

I'm on my own journey. My hurts are different but they still hurt. God doesn't suck. He is faithful. Sometimes he says no. Sometimes he takes things away. I don't know where I'm going. I'm scared I'll endure it alone. I may not see it here on this earth, but I believe God will give me beauty for my ashes. 

*WARNING* Pity party raging

I like this blogging thing. It's a good way to get things out. I have about a million random thoughts a day. And sometimes one will jump out at me. I never really plan what to say. Today, I'm mad. It's a pity party day. 

Today hasn't been terrible. We stayed at home. Watched some movies. Played. Just a doing nothing kind of day. I love those. This evening Shiloh was in the parade. The shirt she was supposed to wear was at her dad's. No biggie. When we parked our car it was at the end of the parade route. We had to walk to the beginning of the route. I had all three kids and Shelbie's legs were apparently not working. Again, no biggie. This is all normal stuff. And certainly nothing to be overwhelmed with. 

A little ways into the parade, while trying to smile and wave it struck me how alone I was. Nothing like being in a crowd of a bazillion people and coming to the realization that you have no one of your own. 

I have my kids. Don't question my love for them. Every part of every day is for them. I'm not perfect. My parenting style is quite unorthodox. And quite frankly, I have no clue what I'm doing. I just make it up as I go along. 

I'm still alone. I crave someone. Someone that's all mine. That wants me. All of my life I've wanted to be somebody's. I spent many a day as a child pretending how it would be when I was in love. I was let down. 

Relationships are hard. Love hurts. I once had a friend recovering from addiction tell me the main problem with life is, "feelings suck." No truer words have ever been spoken. 

I want to be loved. I have myself convinced I'm not worthy of love. I don't keep my car clean enough. I'm cluttery. I like to dye my hair. I whine. I do NOT do mornings. I want all of those things to not matter. 

I want someone to pray with and pray over me. I want someone to hold my hand. I want someone to seek me out. Put me first. I want someone to be proud of me. I want someone who will NEVER seek out the attention of another woman. I want someone who will feed my need for attention. Who will buy me shiny things. Who will listen to my non stop chattering. Who will let me be my wild crazy self and love me anyways. Someone who makes me feel sexy and desirable. And someone who is tough enough to handle my hellaciously pissed of self. 

Most of all I want someone to pick me. Not settle until something better comes their way. Or settle because no other man would want me so they're safe in that area. I want someone to see something so special in me that they work at a relationship with me.

My pity party is in full swing. I'm lonely. Yes, I know it's too soon. Yes, I know I have Jesus. He picked me. He loves me. He's tough enough to handle me. But I still want someone. I want butterflies. I want to be so in love with someone we make others gag with our lovey doviness.  I want to hear someone whisper my name like it's the last word they'll ever get to say. (Pardon me, I've read too many romance novels.)

I leave you with this. Have you ever noticed that there is a song for EVERY moment in your life? As I was driving home tonight these song lyrics popped into my head....

http://youtu.be/GY-mTbv38Io

I hope it's soon...

Schizophrenic chihuahuas and The Lord

I'm a nut. An all out anxiety ridden nut. I panic over everything. I'm scared of my own shadow. I'm wild and rough around the edges. You either like me or you don't. And if you don't, I panic over the rejection. 

I asked The Lord for my salvation as a child. I often wonder if children understand salvation and the calling of The Lord. The Bible tells us Samuel was a child when he heard The Lord's voice. The Lord calls you when He's ready. 

I knew I wanted Jesus as my savior. My childhood had some dark secrets. I was abused. Many nights I lay in my bed praying for protection. I knew that feeling of peace washing over me. I knew His voice.

As I grew into a young adult, God's calling on my life wasn't as important as fitting in. Worldly things became the center of my life. Like many of my friends I chose a path of alcohol, promiscuity, profanity, etc. 

God has a purpose for me. I don't know what it is. I just know that He has saved me. Time and time again. When I should have been a sunk ship, he's pulled me back to shore. 

During a particularly low point in my life I found myself on the floor face down in the carpet yelling at God. Asking, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" That's when it happened. A God moment. One of those ones that makes every hair stand up and knocks the wind right out of you. I heard The Lord speak to me.

 

God pressed the words, "Be still" into my heart. I didn't know it at the time. Because I mean really who "hears" The Lord, right? A few days later while browsing a resale shop a framed cross stitch caught my eye. I literally stood dumbfounded at the shelf for at least five minutes. It contained this verse: 

Apparently when God needs you to listen, He's not above putting his point in ugly cross stitch. I bought it, took it home, and hung it on my wall. It's still one of my most treasured possessions. 

I've often described myself as a schizophrenic chihuahua. God has me on his leash and gives me some freedom. For the most part I do ok. Then every once in a while I go a little nuts and The Lord has to yank on my leash to get me to shut up and be still. 

Again, I'm in some dark days. I HATE it. I feel like there is no end. Like I'm trapped in this junk for.ev.er. I'm at the end of my leash snarling, barking, and trying to break free. I need to be still. God does things in his time. Which is ridiculously slow. (He knows how I feel about that.) 

And The Lord said:

To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.

Isaiah 61:3

My unwanted pregnancy

In June of 2012 I gave birth to the most fantastic fireball I have ever met. And I didn't want her. 

My marriage had just come out of a terrible storm. We had agreed, no more children. We had a boy and a girl. Our youngest was working on potty training. They each had there own room in our house. Our car was just the right size. Life was just how we wanted it. 

Then I was pregnant. Unexpectedly. Unwantedly. Pregnant. I'm ashamed to admit this now, but I was devastated. I was sobbing so hard when I called my husband he could barely understand me. This baby was going to ruin everything. 

Some of my inlaws told us we were stupid for having a baby. Some family we didn't even tell because I was too embarassed to hear their negativity. Heck I was negative about it. 

I am the most miserable pregnant woman EVER. I'm crabby. Everything hurts. I can't poop. I'm tired. I can't sleep on my stomach. My anxiety is out of control. And I didn't want to do it. WHY ME LORD?!

And The Lord said: 

Psalm 127:3-5 

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

About 2 months into the pregnancy the guilt hit. How could I not want the blessing I was about to receive? Not once but three times my body held a life. Nurtured a life. Birthed a life. There are women who never get to experience that. Who never know what pregnancy heartburn is like. Who are never kept awake at night by baby hiccups. And God chose me to do that. 

By the end of the pregnancy I was excited. Smothered again by every pink thing imaginable. I swore she was never coming. And that I couldn't make it to the end. A friend even prayed for me to have endurance. I almost killed him. 

On June 16, 2012 Shelbie Jaymes made her appearance. She had all this chocolate brown hair and fat rolls everywhere. I was instantly in love. I didn't even know how bad I needed her until that moment. And I'm so thankful for that blessing. 

All of this layed on my heart after the Hobby Lobby ruling. I'm not a supporter of abortion. I'm not a supporter of Plan B. As much as I was overwhelmed by my last pregnancy it never occurred to me to end it. Pregnancy, children, adoption, family; all of these things are a blessing. Not something you throw away. 

Do I want to do it again? NO! I even threatened to handcuff myself to my bed unless they gave me a tubal before I left the hospital. Am I glad I had her? More than words can ever say. Am I ashamed of how I felt about my pregnancy? Yes. Our society has taken the worth of pregnancy down to something that you throw away. If you didn't want to be pregnant, no worries. Take this pill. Have the surgery. And your fixed. It's a shame. 

And The Lord said: 

John 16:21 

When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.

Thigh gaps and back fat

I wore a swimming suit in public....and I'm just a shocked as you. I read a blog post on the internet this week about wearing a swimming suit in public in front of your daughters. This frightened me. I'm talking deep down freaked me out.

Picture it. I'm in the car with the kids at the lake. There are a handful of people on the beach. I'm in my swimming suit with my cover up on. I've talked to myself all day saying, "you can do this!" But at this moment there is no air in my lungs. I'm seeing spots and pretty sure I'm hyperventilating. I'm probably going to die! It's like the walk of shame down to the beach. I just know the entire free world has stopped what their doing to watch me and collectively *gasp* at me. 

When did I become so afraid of someone seeing me? My swimming suit is modest. But I'm a big girl. I've got rolls and bumps in places I shouldn't. My thighs have never had a gap and now sag in spots and my veins are showing. I've got back fat...

And when did I'm become so insecure that I believe everyone has time to pay attention to me? That my flaws take precedence over the lives of others so much so that they ignore their own busyness to check me out. (For the record I HATE narcissim.)

So to this I say phooey! I've always been a big girl. But I'm not ugly. I'm funny. I'm nice. I can cook an awesome dinner. I've got too many freckles but they make for an interesting game of connect the dots. My feet are huge but I need a solid foundation. My arms have wings but their strong enough to carry my children. My belly sags but that's because three kids have pushed it out of shape. I'm not the kind of woman every man drools after but I'm not sure I want to be. So I rocked my bathing suit and hopefully made a positive impact on my kids self esteem. 

(And to the smokin hot chick who showed up in a bikini, I'll pray for you. Eat some cake girlfriend)

Crying is for babies

I'm a weeper. An all out, snot running down my face, awful noise making weeper. And if you decide to comfort me I will unapologetically blow snot on your shirt. Be warned. 

I cry when I see new dads shedding tears over their new babies. I cry when someone dies, even if I don't know them. I cried when the Cardinals won the World Series and I cried when they didn't. Recently during a very stressful time for some coworkers I lost it in the elevator over the show if support for them. I'm a ridiculous crier. 

Lately I cry all the time. I'm having some dark dark days. I try for a happy face, but I'm not good at guarding my emotions. What I feel is written all over my face. It's these times that I feel alone. People will fail you. They're only human. It's also these times I feel so far from God. I think he forgot me. That he doesn't love me. I can't see his plans for my life, so it's probably going to suck, right? 

I can tell you at this moment I'm not full of hope. I can say I've seen God's hands in my life so many times. Those God moments where you just know He totally did that. I KNOW I've heard His voice. But I feel blocked, shut off, and quite frankly I'm having a three year old tantrum at God right now.

Recently I've been given scripture at random points. Scripture that totally is speaking to me. I was particularly touched by one this week. 

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalms 34:18

That's me crushed. Ran over by a Mack truck. Lost in my own pity feeling so far from God. And there it is in His word. He's close. And he'll save me. I cried. I cried for what I've lost. For what I haven't lost. For the things to come. For the fear of dying alone. Of never hearing "I love you." Of never being able to say that to someone. Of the fear of not having control of my future. I just cried. It's healing. It's a moment of weakness and vulnerability. And it's opening my heart to the God who has saved me and who will save me from my crushed spirit. 

I quit

I've thought a lot about this blog. Whether I should or shouldn't. Who will be mad and who won't. Quite frankly I don't want to care. But I do. I'm a people pleaser. I'm afraid of criticism of any kind. What if I just quit?

I'm tired of quitting. Of backing away. Of giving up. Recently some friendships have taken a battering due to the whole divorce thing. It doesn't just affect your home. It affects your kids, your extended family, your friends, your church, and on a particularly stressful day, the gas station attendant. It's exhausting. So I quit.

I quit singing. I quit talking. Which is weird for me. I quit participating. I quit being friends. I quit being nice. I just quit. 

Church has been the hardest. It's scary. You feel like every eye is on you. And it kind of is. You hear rumors about yourself. You feel stupid. Like you are a huge peice of dirt marring the pew in the holiest of holies....

Before I go any further I just want to say I have a wonderful church family. People who are genuinely concerned. A church family that welcomes you with open arms. I'm just struggling...

I used to wake up excited to go to church. There's nothing better than worshipping with a congregation. The fellowship of God's children is amazing. But now I get sick when I think about going. I feel like I'm a thorn in the church. A rotten apple. I feel like I don't fit, like I don't belong anymore. I've prayed about quitting. Asked for guidance. I've said I'm not going back. But I still go. I sit and listen to the music, but I don't feel it. I listen to the sermon, but I'm empty. 

Then today I came across a song, and for the first time in weeks I felt it. Like someone took the thoughts from my head and wrote them to music. I almost didn't share it, but I really felt I should.

http://youtu.be/DP0u56MKs0I

So there it is. I'm sure I'll meditate and reflect in this song. Listening to it over and over like a constant prayer. Time heals all wounds they say. And I hope that it does. I hope those around me that are affected by my divorce give forgiveness. I hope I can give forgiveness to those I feel have betrayed me. And most of all I hope I feel like I belong again. Right smack dab in the middle of church. 

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry. —Psalm 34:15

Where to go from here....

No one said this was going to be easy...I've heard that so many times. I hate hearing it. Mostly because it's the truth. Yet here I am. A morbidly obese mother of three currently getting divorced. It sucks. Like really sucks. It's the hardest thing I've had to do so far.

I don't hate him. I've thought I did a time or two. I certainly didn't get married thinking "you know what, I'm going to divorce this man!" I don't like him some days, but I don't hate him. I certainly wasn't raised to believe divorce is an answer. I believe in fighting for your marriage. But I also believe there are times when divorce happens. This is one of those times.

I really don't know why I thought blogging would help. I just know I've got a lot to say and no where to say it. I'm not sure how I reached this point. I don't like me. I don't like my body, my hair, my teeth, my voice, my overly emotional personality, my inability to let go, my neediness, and so on. I hate even more that I hate me. Self esteem has never been my strong suit. Nor has self control, joy, gentleness, and all the other things I'm supposed to be as a Christian woman. And I don't know how I ended up this way. But here I am.

I have three amazing children. And by amazing, I mean the most amazing children ever. Smart, brave, and ridiculously funny. The fact that they've survived me as a mother proves their strength. And there it is...a post full of cutting me down. I'm my own worst enemy. I am stopping this right dang now!

So this is my divorced slightly crazy life. It's chaotic. It's wild. Spontaneous and overwhelming. This is my journey into peace. Into becoming a mature woman of faith. One who is comfortable in her own skin. One whose faith and love of God is evident in her actions and one who totally rocks motherhood!

Galatians 5:22-23

New International Version (NIV)

22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love,joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.